#+that is literally the only instance of him putting himself 'in harm's way' (again he wasn't in danger) we see in-game

[yappacadaver]

how dare you insinuate he's anything but a fucking loser

[asidian]

I nattered on about this a while back as an addendum to one of my other posts, but it got a little lost since it was a reblog, and the idea of it's stuck with me, so I wanted to come back to it again and expand on it a little.

One of the major themes of Dead Boy Detectives is that the good you do comes back around.

It surfaces and resurfaces throughout the series. The instances in the final episode are the most spelled out for the viewer, but there's one example that lives at the very heart of the show that isn't quite so obvious on first glance.

When Charles dies, Edwin is newly returned from hell. The show doesn't specify the timeline aside from that he escapes hell in the same year he meets Charles, 1989, but overcoming that much trauma within a year is a big ask any way you slice it. He's spent seventy years in survival mode. He's got to be a wreck, still.

At this point, he hasn't had time to develop any complicated leniency schemes to keep himself out of hell. Certainly their detective agency hasn't been formed yet. It comes later, in 1990.

For the entire rest of the series, Edwin has a least a partial ulterior motive for the good he does. He takes on cases and tries to make an impact for their clients at least in part so that he can build himself up such a shield of decency that if he ever gets dragged back to hell, he can try to plead his case. He's so ashamed of this that he doesn't admit it out loud until he's forced to by magic.

But when he meets Charles, none of that plan is in place yet. Here he hasn't taken the time to sit down and work out a plan at all. Here the agency doesn't even exist.

He sees this boy in the attic, beaten and freezing and huddling in a corner, and he comes to offer the only thing he thinks he can: light.

And when he realizes he can give more than that – when he realizes that Charles can see him, and what that means – he stays and gives more. Comfort, and kindness, and company, in the very darkest hour of all.

He takes one look at how battered Charles is, and he tells him, "I shan't hurt you."

And it is a big deal.

Arguably this one line is the very best thing he could have said to Charles in this situation, and Edwin, who struggles with people, who has spent seventy years in hell, who is still trying to sort through his own trauma, takes one look at this boy who has been beaten soon-to-be to death, and he knows that intuitively.

And to Charles? It must have meant everything. Charles has spent his entire life trying to be good enough. He smiles and struggles to please. He does the best he can for whoever he can, and for his entire life, it has never been enough. He's been hurt, over and over again, for failing to live up to his father's impossible standards or guess at his impossible rules. His so-called friends turned on him and murdered him for trying to keep them from hurting someone else.

He's on the verge of tears, alone in the dark, dying.

And then Edwin steps up carrying the metaphorical and literal light in the darkness, and one of the very first things he ever says is, "I shan't hurt you."

That's the baseline. That offer comes when Charles isn't putting on a show. He's not being brave, or strong, or charming. He's hiding in a corner, quietly freezing to death. But here comes this boy anyway, with a light in the darkness and a promise not to hurt him.

It's a moment of simple, honest kindness – of Edwin doing good because he sees someone and he wants to help.

And to Charles, it makes such an impact that he gives up his afterlife for this boy. He spends the next thirty years stepping in front of things that would do him harm. He keeps the lantern and brings it with him, when he comes to save Edwin from hell.

It's that very first moment of kindness, in the attic, that sets into motion the events that result in Edwin's rescue.

That one moment of genuine good, with no furtive selfish side intentions, comes back around to save him. He only knows Charles at all because he stopped to help. Charles only didn't pass on to his afterlife because Edwin was there for him.

And then, all those years later, Charles sets out like Orpheus down into hell to get his best mate back.

That good has come around again. That light in the darkness, literally and figuratively both, is there for him in his lowest moment because he offered it to someone else when they desperately needed it.

And that's beautiful.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 9: Bloodletting (Vampire)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairing: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: Medic is a vampire and vampire related things happen

Tags: Blood, biting, oral, vampire au (literally the only difference is the at medic is a vampire)

Word Count: 4.2k

The Masterlist

You and Medic had always been close. From the first day you joined the mercenary group, the two of you had immediately clicked. You made a good team on the battlefield, and you were one of the few mercenaries that willingly entered the infirmary while Medic was wrapped up in his newest experiments. You just liked hearing him talk.

Over the months the two of you had grown from friends to something that neither of you ever cared to put a label on. Whatever it was, it was obvious enough for your teammates to take notice, as you became the target of teasing remarks whenever you would sneak away to the infirmary, and everyone seemed to know better than to intrude when you and Medic were in there alone.

This was one such instance, as you slipped away from a poker game one night after losing an embarrassing amount of money to Scout of all people. The typical jokes were thrown your way, but you let them slide off your back. They didn’t mean any harm. Honestly, some of them even seemed happy that you had found someone in the midst of this purposeless war.

When you finally made it to the infirmary you pushed the doors open to be greeted with a situation that should have shocked you. Medic looked up at you, eyes wide, clutching a half full blood bag with an unmistakable red liquid staining his lips and teeth. Those teeth- you had always assumed Medic was just one of those people with unusually sharp canines, but apparently there was more to it than that.

At one point in your life, this sight would have sent you running like a bat out of hell, but now, after all you had been through and witnessed- death rendered meaningless by respawn, experiments that defied modern science, literal open heart surgery being performed while the patient was still conscious- all you could think was, ‘Yeah, this might as well happen. Of course the team medic would turn out to be a fucking vampire.’

Honestly this probably wasn’t even one of the strangest things you had walked in on Medic doing, but it definitely was one of the hottest. Then again, this was the first time you had seen Medic look so horrified at you walking in on him, so maybe leading with the fact that you found this endlessly sexy wasn’t the best idea. You gave him a second to gather himself, which amounted to tossing the still leaking blood bag to the side and desperately trying to explain.

“Liebchen! Don’t scream, bitte, I can explain-”

“So this is what all those blood tests were for?” You cut him off before he could spiral into a panic.

“What?”

“The blood tests,” you repeated. “You were always insisting that we needed to have our blood drawn after almost every post-battle physical. We never received any results though, and now I know why.” You motioned towards the blood bag. You had never questioned why those mystery ‘tests’ required an entire pint of blood to be drawn. Most of the mercenaries knew better than to question Medic’s methods, after all, he was their doctor- well, ex-doctor- so he probably knew best. It really was the perfect cover for him to create his own personal food source.

Medic nodded slowly, looking like he was trying to keep up with the conversation. “Ja, that is correct, but- I’m sorry, liebe, are these really the first questions you are asking?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders.

He narrowed his eyes, looking you over as if you were one of his beloved experiments, ready to be studied and analyzed. “You are not scared?”

“Nope.”

Medic approached you cautiously, perhaps worried that any sudden movements might cause your odd sense of bravery to shatter, sending you sprinting away like a startled animal. However, you didn’t falter once. It was strange, because despite your outward body language, Medic knew you were scared. You had to be. He could sense it.

“I feel like you’re lying to me, liebchen,” he said. “I can hear how fast your heart is beating.”

Ah, so hyper-aware senses were in fact a part of this particular brand of vampirism you had stumbled upon. How fun! You were just glad he didn’t sparkle in the sun. But then again, that was a ridiculous possibility for you to even consider. It wasn’t like some author would one day write an entire book series that would launch the very specific concept of glittering vampires into mainstream media. Because that would be weird.

“An elevated heart rate doesn’t necessarily mean I’m scared,” you said, taking a step closer to Medic, gradually closing the distance between the two of you.

“Your blood is rushing so fast,” he muttered to himself. He met your gaze, your half-lidded eyes piercing the soul he no longer possessed. His expression flickered from concern to realization, with a quick flash of something else managing to peek through before he smothered it with a mask of neutrality. Desire. You saw it, and it thrilled you.

“What else can you sense?” Your hand wrapped around his tie, pulling him forward. He stumbled forward, falling against you. You chuckled when you realized he had inadvertently pressed his face against your neck. Medic shuddered, and before he realized what he was doing, he was inhaling, breathing deep, drinking in your scent. It was so strong, tinged with adrenaline and…

“Arousal…”

The word came out as a whisper. If it weren’t for the fact that he was nuzzling into your neck, you probably wouldn’t have even heard it. You smirked. “Come on, Medic, don’t act so surprised. I mean, who hasn’t fantasized about fucking a vampire at least once?”

The tension seemed to melt away from Medic’s body, only for him to immediately start laughing. You watched, dumbfounded as he threw his head back, nearly wheezing between bouts of laughter. This wasn’t the reaction you expected, nor wanted.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you said, glaring at him indignantly.

“Nein, nein, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just, this isn’t how I expected to be spending my evening.” Medic chuckled, still trying to catch his breath. Eventually he let out a sigh before speaking again, his voice dipping low in that way that sent shivers up your spine. “Not that I have an issue with it. I’ll take any opportunity to ravish you, liebling.”

Medic really had a way of sweeping you off your feet. In this case, it was literal. You gasped when he dipped you, your legs swinging out from under you as you were lifted into his arms.

“Aw, did I startle you, little häschen?” He met your surprised expression with a teasing smirk. “Isn’t this what you wanted? To be swept away by a creature of the night?”

Medic carried you to his room, laying you back on the bed as he had so many times before, only this time, he wouldn’t need to hold back. He didn’t waste any time. Before you could even settle into the bed he was on top of you, pressing feverish kisses to your lips. You raised your hips to grind your hips on his and he stifled a groan against your mouth. He trailed lower, kissing over your jaw and down to your neck.

Medic had always been fond of kissing and sucking at your neck. Of course, it only made sense now. You had always assumed he liked it because of how sensitive you were there. Even the gentlest of kisses there could have you squirming and whimpering. Now, you wondered how often he had teased himself with the possibility of taking a bite, how close he had gotten during those few times he let his teeth graze over the skin. Could he tell how wet you already were from the scent of your blood rushing just beneath his lips?

“You’re so sweet,” Medic muttered, clearly reluctant to pull away from your neck. “You always smell so delicious. You have no idea how tempting you are, liebchen.”

Your fingers tangled in Medic’s hair, making a mess of the usually well kept locks. You pulled him back, and you could have sworn you heard him whine when he was forced away from the crook of your neck, that is before you smothered the noise with another kiss. You let your lips part, tasting him, running your tongue cautiously along those sharp fangs. When you finally broke away, both of you were panting.

“I think I have another way to quench my thirst for you, liebling,” Medic said, his voice soft and breathy. “It may not be blood, but I’m sure it will be just as delectable.”

You watched with intrigue as Medic began to work his way down your body, edging towards the foot of the bed, slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants and pulling them down along with your underwear. You yelped at the sudden exposure of your wet cunt to the cool air. Medic’s room was always so cold, probably due to its proximity to the even more frigid infirmary. It didn’t seem to bother him, as he stripped off his coat and undershirt, naked from the waist up- basically the opposite of the state of undress that you were in. You wanted to run your hands over his chest to feel the defined muscle, developed from years of lugging the Medigun and all its associated equipment into battle. However, Medic had descended between your legs before you could even ask him to lean down within your reach.

You could feel how fast he was breathing, the quick exhales against your cunt making you shudder and tense up, trying to resist the urge to grind against his mouth already. Medic took his time to savor the scent of your arousal. It was so much stronger here, almost enough to drive him mad. He wanted more, needed more, and he knew just how to get it.

“Sehr schön," he whispered. There was a slight tremble in his voice, but he spoke so softly that you barely heard it, or if you did, you simply didn’t point it out. Not like you could have said anything anyway, because in the next moment, Medic slipped his tongue into you. You gasped, immediately entwining your fingers in his hair again. He took to that with ease, letting you use his hair to steer him freely. So long as he got to keep inhaling this intoxicating aroma, you could use him however you wanted.

“Fuck!” You cursed through clenched teeth, feeling his nose bump against your clit while his tongue thrust into you. With every exhale he moaned. You gasped when he hoisted your legs up onto his shoulders, just to feel the way your legs trembled and squeezed around his skull. “Medic- wait, wait! You’re going to make me come!”

Medic pulled back, broken out of his stupor long enough to look at you with some confusion. “Is that not what you want?”

“Well, yeah, but not so soon.” You shot him a sultry gaze, which you desperately hoped came off as enticing and not silly. “I want you to fuck me. Don’t you want to feel me come on your cock?”

That definitely got a rise out of him. He shuddered, just barely managing to stop himself from biting his lip in anticipation. He licked the remnants of your taste from his lips, savoring every drop before he took your legs off of his shoulders, holding them apart. The fingers that gripped your thighs were rougher, his hold more aggressive. He was sure to bruise the supple flesh.

Your skin was red. Medic knew that your face had been sporting a fetching blush since you first saw him, but now it seemed to have deepened, spreading down your chest, to the tips of your ears, and even further, veins widening, letting blood tint the skin scarlett. Medic wasn’t sure when he began grinding uselessly against the mattress, feeling himself hardening at the thought of that sweet ichor rushing just beneath his fingertips. He wasn’t sure he would be able to resist a taste.

“Liebchen, would you be alright with me biting you?”

The question was hesitant, almost shy. Your response, however, was not. “Yes!” you nearly shouted. “Fuck yes!”

“Perfect. There is a wonderful artery right along your thigh.” Medic traced his fingers over your leg as he spoke, making you shiver. “And it only seems fair that I partake of it, since you interrupted my meal earlier.”

That was all the warning you received before you felt him sink his fangs into your thigh. You cursed softly, feeling him draw your blood outward. It was an odd mix of pain and pleasure, as the masochistic part of you was truly getting a kick out of the sensation of sharp teeth being embedded in your flesh. Even now, Medic continued to tease you, using a free hand to circle your clit, making sure not to bring you too close to the edge.

You shuddered and chuckled softly when you felt Medic’s stubble rub against your inner thigh. “That tickles,” you said. The edges of his mouth curled up slightly as he drank from you.

Perhaps this would become a regular occurrence now that you knew the truth. How many orgasms would he draw from you in exchange for a taste of your blood? How many bite marks would come to decorate your thighs? He could always heal them with the Medigun, but you weren’t sure you wanted that. You enjoyed the idea of his marks being hidden beneath your clothing, a reminder that you were his.

You jumped when you felt Medic’s fingers begin to stroke your clit faster, rubbing back and forth over the sensitive bud. He moaned against you as more blood rushed over his tongue, being coaxed southward by his ministrations. It wasn’t long before he had to force himself to withdraw, afraid that he would simply suck you dry if he didn’t get ahold of himself. Blood trickled from the two puncture wounds, and Medic struggled not to lick the remaining drops from your skin.

He might have stayed there, staring at the crimson fluids trickling over your soft flesh until it dried and turned umber, but a sudden tug on his hair forced him back up your body. You pulled him down, pressing your lips to his and being met with a soft sound of surprise before he relaxed, melting into the kiss. You were surprisingly unbothered by the lingering, coppery taste of your own blood. When the two of you parted you were breathing hard, a giddy smile on your face as you spoke.

“Fuck me.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. Medic’s cock twitched, straining against the confines of his pants. His whole body ached for you, and with his thirst quenched, the only thing left was arousal. He undressed hastily, dropping his pants freeing his cock with a moan. Your gaze raked over his body hungrily. His dick curved upwards, looking flushed and painfully hard. It made you feel good to know that you weren’t the only desperate one here.

You bit your lip to silence yourself as Medic let his cock glide against your slit. He was far less restrained, immediately letting a shaky moan fall from his lips as he felt how wet you were for him. An even louder noise followed when he finally sank into you to the hilt. Your own moans joined the fray as you felt him stroking you deep in your core.

“Bitte, wrap your legs around me,” Medic groaned. You let your legs dangle lazily around his waist as he began to thrust into you. His pace was slow, agonizingly slow, in fact. You whined, bucking uselessly against him. He was teasing you, there was no doubt about it. You didn’t need him to be gentle right now. You were more than wet enough, and you wanted him to fuck you hard.

“Come on,” you muttered, tightening your legs around his waist, as if to pull him deeper into you. “I know you can go harder than that!” Medic actually looked surprised, but you continued before he could say a word. “I already let you bite into my thigh. Do you really think I can’t handle rougher treatment? Don’t tell me you’re scared that I’ll break.”

You were outright provoking him now. It was bold, and even a little impressive. Still, it was clear to Medic that he would need to deal with your new attitude. You were quite literally asking to be put in your place, and who was he to deny you?

“Alright, taube,” Medic chuckled, his voice low and dangerous. “You want it rough? Fine, but I don’t want to hear another complaint out of that pretty mouth.”

He took your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. You struggled playfully and he squeezed his fist tighter. Medic watched your eyes flutter closed, a look of rapturous bliss on your face. So, this was your true fantasy- to be taken and thoroughly ravished by a blood sucking creature. You loved feeling weak beneath him, positively helpless, even going as far as to arch your head back, exposing your neck. Medic nearly salivated at the sight, but he had to hold himself back, at least from that.

“Liebchen, I won’t bite your neck.” You opened your eyes, and the disappointment was obvious. “I’m sorry. Your emotions are running too high.” ‘Mine are too,’ but he didn’t say that part aloud, still trying to play the part of the stoic dom, despite everything. “Another time, I promise, when both of our minds are clearer. For now, I just want to make you feel good.”

Even though you were a bit disheartened, Medic’s sweet words placated you. He knew how to make you feel special, to lavish you with attention, praise, and pleasure until you were trembling with bliss. You shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable to lay back and enjoy the ride when a certain change in angle left you seeing stars.

“Fuck!” you gasped suddenly, legs tightening around Medic’s waist. You froze, and Medic froze too.

“What? What is wrong, liebe?”

“Don’t stop!” Your cries were desperate. “Right there, keep fucking me, right there!”

Medic’s concern melted away into a devious grin. Without another word he resumed his pace, listening to your cries of ‘faster, harder, keep rocking your hips, just like that!’

“That feels good, doesn’t it, liebchen?” Medic asked, smirking wide enough to bare his fangs, still stained crimson from your own blood. “Gott, I know it does. I can smell the adrenaline coursing through you, and all those endorphins flowing into your bloodstream, bringing you closer and closer to euphoria.”

At some point, Medic had released your wrists. You weren’t sure how long you were simply holding your hands above your head of your own accord before you realized they were free. You draped your arms over Medic’s shoulders, loosely at first, but soon tightening enough to pull him down for a kiss between thrusts.

Eventually, you managed to pull Medic especially close, burying your face against his shoulder, your moans muffled against the warm skin. Medic’s first instinct was to pull away, to remove the buffer between him and those beautiful sounds you were making. Before he could, he jolted forward, gasping, his body reacting before his brain even registered the throbbing pain near his collar.

You had bitten him.

Honestly, you weren’t even sure that it was intentional. Everything from the dull ache that still radiated from your inner thigh to the ruthless pleasure overwhelmed you. You needed a release, and for a moment, you didn’t care whether it was a release of a sexual nature or simply a sudden, impulsive, animalistic act that ultimately took the form of the reddening bite mark that now adorned Medic’s skin.

As for Medic himself, he hadn’t even paused. Other than that slight jolt, he kept up a steady pace, but any trained eye could see that he was becoming sloppy. His thrusts were uneven, and it took him a moment to realize that he was about to come. He had been approaching his peak slowly, building up tension, only for that bite to be his tipping point.

Medic snarled, voice deep and bordering a growl as he came. Letting loose like this was so new for him- he could never let this more monstrous side show with previous partners. It would terrify them, but you looked anything but terrified. You looked ecstatic, enjoying the show, watching him come undone with unbridled ferocity- but you weren’t sated yet. Medic could sense it, and that just wouldn’t do. No matter how ‘monstrous’ he may be, he wasn’t about to leave his little dove unsatisfied.

He reached down, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing quick, firm circles over it while thrusting into you, his movements uneven. His strength was waning as the afterglow tried to creep in. Thankfully, you weren’t too far behind him. It seemed all you needed was those skillful fingers working you over to finally find release.

You arched against him, panting, moaning, and letting your orgasm overtake you. Medic fucked you as best as he could through your climax before finally collapsing beside you. He pulled you closer, holding you through the aftershocks until you finally went still, soft moans dying into even softer sighs.

“Did it live up to your fantasy, liebe?” Medic asked, running his fingers through your hair.

“Fuck, yes,” you said, barely above a whisper. “How about you?” Medic smirked, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you breathless when you parted. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The two of you rested in comfortable silence for a while. You rested your head on Medic’s chest, staring at the ceiling and letting your mind wander. You noticed how warm he was. It was comforting, and a little ironic, given that most legends about vampires seemed to agree that they were cold as death. You supposed that you shouldn’t trust everything you read, although you were still curious.

“Does blood taste different depending on the person?” you asked.

“Ja, but it’s hard to describe.” He thought for a moment before going on. “It’s like different kinds of wine, each with flavors that make them distinct, but still recognizable as wine.”

“Interesting,” you said.

“It is quite fascinating. A person’s actions can affect their flavor as well. Scout’s blood is almost sickeningly sweet, no doubt due to that radioactive swill he insists on putting in his body.” Medic cringed, as if even recalling the taste was physically painful. “Demoman’s is obviously overpowered by alcohol, so much so that I couldn’t even tell you what his natural flavor is.

“Can you get drunk off of it?”

Medic laughed. “Nein, although I have tried.”

You nodded, figuring that if you were a vampire, you would probably try as well. Perhaps it was better that it didn’t work that way. After all, Demoman’s blood would be more likely to give Medic alcohol poisoning rather than simply getting him intoxicated.

“Now that you know the truth, I can admit that yours was always my favorite.” It took you a moment to realize what Medic meant.

“What do I taste like?”

“Coffee. Not like any cheap, drugstore instant brew, but something rich, dark, and deep with notes of sugar and cream.” Medic sighed, as if reminiscing, and nodded towards the infirmary, where several blood bags most likely remained in storage. “I’ve tasted it many times, of course, but drinking it straight from you doesn’t compare, and blended so nicely with your adrenaline and arousal… mein gott!” His lips brushed your shoulder and along your collarbone, making you shiver. “You are a truly magnificent specimen, liebchen.”

“Oh, you charmer,” you teased. However, that brought up another question. “Wait, can you charm people?”

“Glamour is the proper term, and yes, with some effort, I can.”

You paused for a long while before responding. “Would you ever…”

“Nein,” Medic said curtly, knowing exactly what you were about to ask even as your voice trailed off. “I wouldn’t ever use that power on you.” He pulled away from kissing your neck, tilting your head so that you could look him in the eye, and know he was speaking the truth. “It would be wrong to do such a thing, but also, it wouldn’t be real. I don’t need any cheap mental compulsion to know I have your love, taube.”

“Well, obviously!” you said, rolling your eyes and trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. That blush returned with a vengeance. “I must love you a lot to let you fuck me like that!”

Medic scoffed at the sudden vulgarity, but it couldn’t kill his smile. You always changed the subject when you were flustered. It was cute. He kissed your cheek softly, feeling the warmth against his lips. “Let’s get some sleep, liebling. We don’t have work tomorrow, and I plan on sleeping in until noon.”

He wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you against him. His hold was tight enough that you probably wouldn’t be leaving this bed until noon either. Not that you really minded. Plus, if you played your cards right, you might even be able to convince Medic to treat himself to a little breakfast in bed, courtesy of you, of course.

[zoroara]

Okay you know what I wanna share another type of interaction analysis, I did this yesterday but got nervous. Anyway It's about Squalo's loyalty and then lead into just noting the reactions of Squalo being harmed by Xanxus, when and why they happen. This is how my rambling works Idk why, though the first half is definitely more interpretation the part where I get into the harming is more direct analysis. Short note: It's actually used really sparingly only really once an arc but at specific key moments. but the longer one will be below.

Squalo's intense loyalty is just an inherent trait to squalo I think it's very interesting to make it sheer willpower and drive that Squalo does most of his things, he's shown to be incredibly motivated to anything he puts his time into, to an overzealous degree. I really do think he was simply Impressed by Xanxus' ambition, strength as well as his wrath as Squalo himself claims, and wanted to see where it would go, as it presented many opportunities to improve himself further which it kind of has. He's also eternally focused on many causes, such as wanting Yamamoto to be at his best so they can fight again and he can win. He literally hates being in the same room as Yamamoto, gets pissed off at Yamamoto's light treatment of something he devoted his life to, yet just for his goals he spent an entire week alone in the forest with the kid JUST to make sure he could be ready to fight Genkishi again and take back that loss. Not only that shown to be loyal to the vongola, protecting them twice in future arc, trying to stop shimon, so on, he's an very intense and despicable man, but the things he chooses to be important to him are what he will devote himself to, no matter the cost to himself It's more to me that Squalo is willing to suffer through things to get what he wants one way, or another. So Squalo allowing Xanxus to take the leader spot isn't an act of submission to Xanxus. But he saw it beneficial to what his own wants were. it should be noted the fact that Squalo only ever really takes being harmed in the present but when then that's only because the scene moves far too much for him to stay focused and mad at Xanxus usually be interrupted by things by everyone literally having to haul ass somewhere, and when given the chance to do so in the future he has to be held back by Luss. The man is READY to at least give Xanxus what for, just more important things prevent him to doing such because unlike a good amount of other varia members, he very much focuses on what objective is most important at the moment.

Squalo's VERY first instance of being harmed is when he failed with the rings, and it's immediately "okay we need to move fucking NOW", It's not that squalo just accepts it, he just needs to move right away. plus this one specifically Squalo realizes that he failed, so of course he's a little more stunned than he usually is when it happens. he didn't KNOW and has to process he was also TRICKED.

The next, is the whiskey scene, however, in the manga it cuts off before we see any resolution, clearly more of an egg on, and we do not know Squalo's reaction after this, and honestly I would not be surprised if he kicked the shit out of xanxus. But also in this scene, both times in Varia arc Xanxus does have a clear reason for his actions. One was punishment for failure, and one was because Squalo was literally insulting him and what he was doing.

This was however changed to Squalo leaving the scene in the anime, leaving a different feel to this. Which is honestly a really good way to show how a small change can lead to a very different feeling in a scene. Because the anime version makes it seem like Squalo accepts this treatment. In the manga by having it hold on both of their eyes, the tenseness never relieves itself and makes it seem like they are prepared to clash instead. Emphasizing the next thing Dino said.

The ONLY time Squalo has time to react to this and isn't in the middle of something, is only in future that we get to see the after in the manga, and then there's someone to actually hold him back. which feels more consistent to the manga version of after the alcohol gets thrown at him. and he's ready to beat the shit out of xanxus(maybe he learned after the previous time not to throw shit at Squalo while they're alone.)

then, the last and final example, he is once again distracted because this happens in the middle of the hibari/fon fight in rainbow so he needs to focus immediately after it happens, with Mammon's little petty complaints against fon(A majority of panels being flashback panels so it feels like it takes longer) only in the middle of these two things in real time.

It's used very sparingly, usually when the viewer least expects it for emphasis which is why it sticks out so much in our minds. But not only that, there's usually some things that influence Xanxus' when and why for doing this.

As already stated, the TIMES Xanxus actually does this are usually chosen in the sense that a good 90% of the time, Squalo actually has his hands tied and can't retaliate at all, either by virture of other people being there, OR by virtue of something far more important happening there was only ONE time where it was just them But one of the most consistent reasons is that Xanxus is doing this to literally knock him down a peg(and then it doesn't work) it's not a good reason but it's still notable as a reason.

First one he's literally saying he deserves a reward for his work(without knowing he failed). Second he was telling Xanxus this was a waste of time and that he was going to win. Third he was asking if the vongola kids manages to survive and saying how they would have to help them. Fourth he literally was talking shit to hibari and Fon on how easy to beat them it would be. Xanxus is narratively used to bite down when Squalo's pride goes too far. But Squalo FAR from accepts this treatment.

Additionally, if you're choosing to count gags and such, Squalo isn't actually the only target to it. There are ones where they complain that Xanxus does this with all of them and he even blows up the whole castle because they were all annoying him. So when it comes to jokes there's more of an equality about it, just Xanxus is generally violent. Though! Even then I've noticed that he's only explicitly that violent when it won't backfire against him in non-gag scenarios. His rage is a little more tempered when you look at him, it's just when he knows it's not going to be an issue it's at 100. Xanxus is a lot more logical than even I initially realized but that's a different post.

[arabian-batboy]

Was Damian's time with the league all That traumatic? I'm reading some fics and wanted to know how much (if any) was based on canon. (sorry if this bothers you, i just think you know Damian very well)

That's a complicated issue, mostly because Damian's horrid upbringing is directly connected to Talia's character-butchering. Since pre-Morrison Talia would never allow her son to be raised the same way Damian has been raised, but at the same time Damian wouldn't be Damian if he wasn't raised in the LoA, so that puts us in a difficult situation (I did write about how you can have a middle ground here)

Putting Talia's situation aside, yes, Damian's childhood was 100% traumatic. From the day he was born, he was never allowed to live like a normal kid and instead was trained by the world's most deadly killers, which includes him constantly going into missions to kill, torture, battle and kidnap other people. There's no beating around the bush here, his childhood was mostly grim.

With that being said, a lot of people are forgetting that Damian is also the grandson of the league's immortal leader/founder and heir to the throne, in fact whenever we see members of the league interacting with Damian in canon, they always refer to him as "prince Damian" or "lord Damian" because that's literally what he is and there are some privileges to that (not that it will cancel out the abuse he faced)

For instance, while I'm sure all of his assassin teachers have trained him very harshly to atrocious levels, they would only give him as much as he can take without dying (we saw tutors of his being exiled/killed before because they took things too far and risked his life) and when he's NOT training, absolutely no one is allowed to harm him and he would be as pampered as any other prince, but again, his duty in life is to be the league's future leader, so its not like he had much free time outside of his training in the first place.

So yeah, he had a traumatic life, but in a twisted way, the abuse he went through wasn't out of malice or done with the intentions to harm him, but to advance his capabilities to make him the most formidable version of himself and during all of this, he was still revered and treated with the utmost respect from his abusers (which might be a reason to why he didn't realize how traumatic his life was for the longest time).

[swifty-fox]

Spoilers for your newest chapter of KFAKYM, but I think it kind of reminds me when I was younger as a baby bi realizing that just because a couple or experience is same-gender doesn't mean that sexual communication is automatically easy. I'd kind of assumed that as an AFAB person that preferences were automatically the same and realized that's not true physically or mentally. James clearly doesn't intend to trigger or upset Gale during their hookup but does, because turn-ons for him are off-putting at best, actually and literally triggering for Gale. Part of it is obviously the period of the time and Gale's own hidden trauma, but I feel like James would not be unusual for his time to assume that, because they're both gay vets who've been in POW camps, that it'll be fine? There's a callback I think to an earlier chapter in which Gale admits that he'd get in fights all the time as a lonely, unwanted child and it seems like he feels like he's not only unwanted by John but too isolated to really engage with others that his trauma has brought him back to that.

oooo yes lets talk about James!!!

I went back and forth and did a Lot of Editing to make sure James and the way he and Gale have sex came off with a lot of nuance. He's not a good guy, but he's not evil either.

“You’re so beautiful,” James repeats roughly, biting down on the arch of Gale's chest until he hisses. There’s something desperate and dark to James’ desire. A man taking one last sip of wine before the gallows. “What’d they do with a pretty boy like you in the army huh? Pass you around for the officers?

He's literally being compared to someone facing execution (heterosexual Marriage) this is his last chance to have full agency of his sexuality, his body, and who he gets to give it to. And yes he's trying to be sexy trying to flirt, and it is NOT working for Gale (for a multitude of reasons lol) In some ways it is exciting, in a kinda 'holy shit I cant believe you said that' sorta way but that isn't always a good thing. Like I've talked about how the taboo can be arousing it can also come from a place of harm, at least in this specific instance. if it were a different day, different emotional state, different person maybe would feel differently about this line of dialogue

He feels dizzy, arousal and anger and some breed of delight at James’ depravity engaged in a sick dance around his brain.

For Gale he's approaching this out of spite. To show he can and damn him he's just gunna do it. Sometimes you have sex just to prove you can and that's not necessarily a bad thing but Gale is in such a heightened state it swiftly turns into an act of self harm. He's been in a triggered state ever since the car backfiring with John Sr. in fact. This breakdown/snapping has been building all day and layers keep being added until he hits his limit.

But yeah at this point in time all Gale has is John (in his eyes) Throughout this fic he only feels safe with John, feels like he's the only one he can truly talk to. He struggles with Marge again and again and even though she would be a wonderful support system he can't separate himself from John. He led himself to the slaughter by being too loyal of a dog :)

[crossroadsdimension]

Final Fantasy 1 Overworld Theme in Final Fantasy 16 Represents a Character's Harmful Fantasy (Part 2)

(part 1 here; part 3 here)

As I said in my last post, the FF1 Overworld theme is in FF16's soundtrack. I've posted Part 1, where I discuss the first time it shows up (right before picking up Eikon set #5), and now here are my thoughts on its second appearance, not too long before we pick up Eikon set #6.

Here is the original FF1 music for reference:

Everything else is under the cut because -- once again -- LATE GAME SPOILERS!

(And warnings for some religion talk below for this one -- nothing Earth-based, but there are enough similarities with how a certain character acts that I'm sure it'll set some folks off.)

After listening through the FF16 soundtrack a couple times -- and finding a couple scenes on YouTube where this song plays -- I've noticed it really comes into prominence for 3 characters: Anabella, Barnabas, and Ultima. Their perspectives on life and what they dream of -- or fantasize, if you will -- are why I've chosen to title these posts this way, and I'll explain my reasoning as I work my way through each of them, in order as they appear.

Barnabas' Religious Fervor

Barnabas gets two instances of the FF1 theme. One is called "Mighty Acts of God," and the other is "Salvation." Fitting, considering his mindless, complete obedience to the utter monster that is Ultima.

The first of these two, "Mighty Acts of God," plays when Clive confronts Barnabas on the sea -- or, rather, on the sea floor, after Barnabas has cut the water in two and is trying to prove to Clive that his bonds with others is only going to slow him down. You could argue in this instance that Barnabas is literally an act of god, considering the man is nothing more than a puppet that reacts to Ultima's commands as his master pleases (and oh does that hit a few angsty spots in my brain. If anyone here followed me back when I was deep in Gravity Falls, you know why).

The other song, "Salvation," plays in the scene before Clive has his final fight with Barnabas at the top of the tower of Reverie. It's when Barnabas is waxing poetic about how Ultima plans to save them all, and that the only way for them to be saved is if they give up their free will to the monster. Barnabas has done so himself, leaving him nothing more than an akashic being that feeds on aether and is somehow still able to maintain a human appearance and personality. I called him an energy vampire when I saw him absorbing the dissolving akashic villagers right when Clive arrived at the tower, thinking that was why he was so casual about using his Eikonic abilities and summoning so many Sleipnir-egis. Half-right, that.

But these two versions of the FF1 overworld theme do give us some insight into Barnabas' character -- as much as Sever and The Riddle do, for his boss fight. His fantasy is a cult-like belief that all will be well if everyone believes in his "one true god" and fall into line acting like mindless pawns for Ultima to play with as he pleases. Unlike Anabella's song "Bloodlines," which comes off as desperate and tense as she scrambled to defend herself, "Mighty Acts of God" and "Salvation" are slower, calmer, more sure of themselves -- and more ominous as a result. Barnabas has been moving towards his goal for a long time, and he can afford to wait a little longer for Mythos to come to terms with what must be done.

The problem here from Barnabas' perspective is that humans like their free will, and they aren't going to give it up when a so-called god demands it of them. We value our connections with others, and put our faith in the people around us as much as they put their faith in us. Walking away from that to mindlessly serve a higher power is asking a lot of the people who Barnabas lives with -- severing friends from friends, family from family. And it's asking too much from Clive, who has so much to lose if he follows in Barnabas' wake.

(And I can see some similarities with modern religions on Earth, but I'm not going to bring them up here. What I've said about Barnabas likely has brought up more than enough bad memories for some folks.)

Barnabas' fantasy falls apart when Clive proves that not only can he fight as he is, connections intact, but also as the entire continent of Storm rebels against his mindset and beats back those who have fallen to the best of their ability. They don't plan to fall victim to his mindless mindset -- and neither do we. Barnabas cannot force others to follow in his footsteps, and those who do follow end up pushed past the point of no return, becoming akashic as a means to an end.

If the world is to recover from Origin, there will be an entire continent to repopulate, if the orcs don't take it over first.

[wallcravvler]

This has been rattling around in my head for like a week, and I just find myself needing to write this down. And what is THIS, exactly? Well, I'll tell you! This, here, is a meta post on Peter Parker & how he projects his feelings of guilt onto things. Which I'll put under a read more for reasons (aka it's HELLA long)

So, I wanna start by saying that Peter is a very private person when it comes to certain affairs. For instance, as far as I know from reading the comics, he's never told anyone about the night Gwen died. The only people who know are those who were involved in the matter, with some notable exceptions, those being Ben Reilly and Kaine Parker as well as Jessica Drew, Ben and Kaine are exceptions because they're literally Peter and thus, have his memories. And Jessica knows because he told her (as said by Jessica herself during Spider-Gwen volume 2, issue #3) she even tells Gwen "Jeez. Which jerk told YOU about the bridge?"

What I'm getting at is that Peter usually doesn't talk these things out, if other heroes know, it's not because he told them. It's because they figured it out. Peter internalizes these things and, in a way, keeps traumatizing himself, he replayed Gwen's death so many times that he effectively invented a way to save people who are falling and not risk killing or harming them.

Two big examples come, of course, from Norman's hands. He tried it twice after Gwen, one with MJ and another time with Anna Maria Marconi, and Peter's inner monologue says "Practiced this a thousand times, where to latch on to someone... How much counter-force to use reeling them in. At this point, I could do it in my sleep... Because I'm determined never to relieve old nightmares."

This is just one example, another one is how he projects all his feelings regarding Gwen onto Earth-65s Gwen. During the Sin-Eater storyline, he texted Gwen and when they have a chance to talk he tells her, "Look, I know you're not MY Gwen Stacy, and I'm not your Peter Parker. I get that. But right now? Right now, I just really need to know what she would want me to do-- And you are the closest I can get to having an answer." This right here is the best example I have of how he works. With E-65! Gwen he's projecting all his feelings of shame and regret but more importantly his love and guilt. Pete is determined to never face another Gwen situation again, and for the most part he follows through on it.

Yet another instance of him projecting his feelings is when he failed to save J. Jonah's wife, Marla. He made this whole vow saying "Whenever I'm around, wherever I am… No one dies!". As y'all can see, he's projecting his guilt onto saving EVERYBODY, even though it's not realistic.

What I'm trying to say with this wall of text is that Peter carries around a massive amount of guilt for his failures, sure, he uses them to motivate himself, to be better, to avoid a repeat of that situation, but he doesn't process these things in a healthy way! There’s no way to even go into the topic in a way that doesn’t make him sound like, at best, someone who needs constant therapy. He just doesn't talk about it willingly, he only brings these things up when he's under extreme stress (Sin-Eater, saving Anna Maria, etc) or when he's forced to.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Screaming again don't mind me, just I usually realise the tags are going to be trashfires but I went to bed before the inciting incident last night and oh boy are my blocked tags insufficient huh.

This should be taken in the context of I've had a long week, I'm literally ill, and I just want thoughts out my head so I can enjoy the streams tonight please thank you love you all <3

I'm sat here like on the one hand Sunny being upset about last night is COMPLETELY legit. Like I think I know where Philza was coming from - Tubbo and Slime both respawn when killed, which 'real' eggs don't - but many of the words he said while his usual teasing were out of line, especially when Tubbo wasn't there to defend himself. And like a kid isn't going to see that so fine its cool if I thought it was ever going to get resolved yeah no perfect sense here. And even with that logic in mind it's a fucking dick thing to say. There were only bad answers. It was a question designed to have only bad answers. The least bad answer was probably honestly Trump as not only is he dead all his parents are too, but that suuuucks.

On the other hand, I know where this started and what it started with is with ccPhilza's tone of voice and phrasing (because those are the same as qPhilza's in many of the instances), and I do not think it was ever appropriate to have this come up as a thing in the first place. I don't care about the IC-ness or whatever right now, I mean pure simple if this should ever have been a plot point in the first place. And the longer it goes on without anyone fucking telling Phil so he can fix it the more certain I am it was a fucking awful move that never should have started - and if Sunny didn't already think Phil hated her, maybe this would be more interesting! The whole thing with the Tubbo and Gegg.

Anyway point. QSMP is supposed to be about cultural exchange and communication over differences and language and stuff, but what's being done here is reinforcing genuinely harmful with real life consequences stereotypes about English Northerners - the sorts of which have things like people being put on blacklists by their own home insurance providers due to being 'difficult customers', and having the cops called on them for 'being aggressive' when they said fuck a bit and laughed too loud, and being failed in class for talking wrong, and I just... The one thing from last night is completely legit. That's entirely and perfectly legit and all that, but the fact is it's not in isolation and whether intentionally or not every time Sunny and Philza are in a room together no matter what I blacklist if I look in the tags for my primary PoV it becomes a fucktonne of classist microagressions.

And like ccPhilza may well be fine with it! And that's cool and all! (Though I'm honestly not convinced he's entirely aware ooc Sunny's afraid of him) But much like any of these things, it's not /only/ the cc who stands to be hurt by it.

Which is to say I think Sunny's admin is a good roleplayer but not so good at being an NPC and is - probably accidentally, and only in a minor way god knows the rest of the media joins in - contributing to genuine and actual harm with their choices here. Calling Philza aggressive or scary based on his accent, phrasing, and tone of voice (and like this is outside of last night - this is how it /started/ not where it is now) is in a similar if smaller vein to saying the French players are stuck up, entitled, prissy, flirtatious, etc for having French accents. Or the Mexicans are stupid for their accents. And when he's the only northerner and he genuinely isn't being aggressive when he's being accused of it it's... uncomfy. ESPECIALLY as it's not from another player, it's from a fucking admin('s character) who should be being held to a higher standard on shit like this as the admin's are part of the organisation team.

It'd be less bad if there were more regularly playing northerners, or if tubbo wasn't a southerner, or if she was afraid and people were yelling about her being afraid of other characters too, but it's /so/ noticably Philza.

And it's not intentional, there's very little chance it's intentional, but it's still why I have to put on a fake accent to call the DWP else I get blacklisted and treated significantly worse. One time I rang up, usual accent, after 40 minutes of being bounced around was told no. Rang back, spoke to someone else, put on my other accent, was treated significantly nicer and got told yes. And this shit happens regularly in my life. Northern is more natural to me but I can also do southern. And my sort of northern is considered more acceptable than ccPhil's!

I don't really want to talk about it, I just want to scream.

[mc-lukanette]

I haven’t watched the new episode but I heard it was awful. Do you have a fix-it that I can pretend is canon?

- Marinette is stressed, and extremely so; her schedule is more hectic and the kwami have been keeping her busy with teaching her any guardian rules/lessons they know from their limited knowledge that she might not have gotten from Fu since he hadn’t had the time to teach her due to what happened.

- Because of these factors, her dates with Luka have often been interrupted and constantly replanned, only the cinema date being anywhere near complete due to her giving him the guitar pick necklace. Luka is trying to be respectful and not pry, but can’t help being disappointed whenever she leaves.

- Eventually, Luka talks to her on the matter, concerned for where she goes and how she always seems anxious when she does. Marinette assures him that she adores him, but she has... things that she has to do, and even though she wishes so badly for it to be different, she’s forced into this situation and she’s so sorry for it.

- Luka is pained by the secret she’s forced to keep, but gives her a sad smile and ends the conversation there. She can tell that he’s putting on a brave face from the slump as he walks away.

- Later on, Marinette is walking down an empty street, muttering to Tikki about the situation, when an unfamiliar form descends from above and lands in front of her. Tikki quickly conceals herself and Marinette goes on the defensive, recognizing that this must be an akuma. “Who are you, and what do you want with me?!”

- The akuma reaches out... and gently takes her hand in his. “We have a date planned today, Marinette, and I want to make sure that we get to finish it this time.” “...W-what? Wait--Luka?”

- In that instance, someone from a distance screams at the sight of the akumatized Luka, yelling for someone to call Ladybug. Luka faces them, muttering, “You’re disrupting us,” his sentimonster helper using their ability to make the person and even the phone they were trying to use go completely silent, much to their shock. Roger, who was nearby at the time, approaches and gives a speech about defending Paris, then tries to attack Luka, but Luka uses his own power to flash Roger back to where he was a minute ago (meaning Luka’s sentimonster is an equivalent to Silencer whereas Luka himself is similar to Viperion); this happens to put Roger in the middle of the street - where he’d originally been directing traffic - and he has to dodge an oncoming car.

- “Luka!” Marinette states, panicked. “You can’t do this! You’re akumatized, you’re not thinking!” In response, Luka settles his hand on her shoulder. “I’m thinking perfectly well, and all I can think is about how you’re so burdened by something that I could never help you with. Now I can, and I’ll stop anyone or anything from bothering you or interrupting us, so we can have the date you deserve.”

- It’s at that moment that Marinette realizes that this akuma literally just wants her to have a nice time and that’s the sweetest freaking thing she’s ever heard.

- She can’t help being torn. On one hand, this is an akuma who will inevitably cause havoc, and she stops akuma as Ladybug... but on the other, this is Luka and she’s so touched and this is an offer for them to finally have a date not interrupted by an akuma because he IS an akuma, and she’s felt so bad ditching him before so this is a chance to remedy that.

- Marinette can see Tikki peering at her judgementally from her purse, but the opportunity is too tempting to pass up and Marinette agrees to go on a date with him, exciting Luka as he enthusiastically tugs her closer so they can walk together.

- Cue montage of Luka recreating their dates, though this time where she can actually enjoy them without interruption. Luka and his sentimonster occasionally use their powers and Marinette clearly hesitates, but he dotes on her so much that it’s hard for her to not want to continue their dates.

- Meanwhile, Shadow Moth probably: Wh--where the heck is Ladybug???? (there’s also probably a moment where Luka mentions Shadow Moth and Marinette uses the opportunity to gather some information)

- During one of the recreated dates, Chat Noir shows up and manages to snatch Marinette away, jumping up and out of harm’s way while trying to find a place to hide. He ducks into an alleyway and is about to go on about how neat his save was when Marinette huffs and asks, “What do you think you’re doing?!” “...U-uh, saving you?” “I didn’t need saving! We were on a date!” “You were on a what now.” “Chat Noir, it’s very rude to interrupt someone’s date. “I’m sorry, Princess, but I’m still stuck on the fact that you said you were dating an akuma--”

- At that moment, a hand clamps down on Chat Noir shoulder. He stiffens and turns, seeing Luka there and very much not happy. Luka squints, asking lowly, “What did you call her?”

- Chat Noir can only weakly look back at Marinette, who waves apologetically at him right before he’s yeet’d off into the distance. The sentimonster gives chase.

- Marinette does eventually leap into action as Ladybug once she recognizes that okay this was amazing and incredible and I’m officially de-stressed but Luka is akumatized and there is definitely a rule against Ladybug dating supervillains.

- Naturally, when Ladybug arrives, Luka’s first concern is what happened to Marinette. Ladybug tries to get him to back down and points out that he won’t even remember any of this once de-akumatized, but Luka insists that, “It’s okay. Marinette will remember.”

- Ladybug is internally like okay but can you not, I’m trying to fight you here and you’re making it difficult.

- Ladybug tries to negotiate/convince Luka into getting de-akumatized, until Chat Noir shows up on the scene again, the sentimonster following after. The fight itself is significally difficult and limiting; if they make any loud, disruptive noises, they’ll be silenced, but if they try to fight Luka directly/physically, he can zap them back to where they were a minute prior; knowing Luka, he could even engineer it so that one of them perhaps gets trapped if they’re not careful.

- Post-deakumatization, Marinette meets up with Luka and gives him a long overdue kiss. Luka is stunned, having been prepared to apologize for getting akumatized, and asks her what he did to deserve it, to which Marinette explains that he’s amazing and she’s happy to have him.

- They end up talking and Luka apologizes for trying to pry about her secret, but explains about his dad and the mystery behind his identity (foreshadowing the conflict for a future episode: I'd have the whole Jagged thing be a different episode so it gets proper focus). Marinette insists that she understands and he has nothing to apologize for, but pauses and laments that their dates might very well continue to be interrupted.

- Luka hesitantly starts to ask if she thinks it’d be best if they broke up, but Marinette cuts him off to insist otherwise. She wants to make this work with him but it’s complicated and she literally (stressing that it’s not a trust issue) cannot tell him why she leaves all the time. Luka smiles reassuringly and points out that a perfect song doesn’t exist and that every song goes through edits. Marinette asks what he means and Luka explains that he can’t help wanting to be selfish and spend time with her, but also that the knowledge of them dating is enough.

- Marinette, considering this, realizes that - yeah - not going on dates doesn’t mean they can’t be in a loving relationship, and maybe they can stop planning dates and get together right after she deals with akuma instead. She’s been a mess because of stress and that’s caused even more problems, so it doesn’t make sense to cause herself more stress by breaking up with Luka; she needs to take care of herself.

- The episode ends with Marinette in her room, some of the kwami being a bit chaotic/loud but Marinette being completely unphased and talking excitedly to Luka on the phone about their recent date “after that crazy akuma attack,” as Luka can’t hear the kwami due to their voices not breaking through technology.

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (3)

warnings: misunderstandings, OCs, mild drowning/hypothermia, violence, one instance of self-inflicted injury, attempted self sacrifice, cliffhanger

-

Virgil laid low for a while after his encounter with Roman, avoiding towns and taking winding paths far from the main roads. Every passing moment, he half-expected a maniac with a sword to descend upon him out of nowhere.

Isolating himself probably made him seem more suspicious, an easier target, but he didn’t want to risk getting caught in a crowd. Demon slayers were an odd bunch, rumored to have supernatural senses to counter a demon’s, and the last thing he needed was to be outed in front of everyone.

The rumors about the ‘Hooded Demon Slayer’ had shown him that gossip spread in unpredictable ways, and he didn’t want to have that unpredictability turned against him.

So, yeah, no towns.

Unfortunately, that plan hadn’t accounted for the people living out in more rural spaces, the way his own family had once.

And now he was here, in a silent standoff at the shore of a frozen lake with a stranger who was staring at him with far too much alarm for his liking.

He held up a hand in an awkward wave. The stranger threw a handful of salt at him, made a sign to ward off evil, and then twisted on their heel and bolted.

Virgil blew some salt out of his fringe, nonplussed, but didn’t move after them.

Either they’d noticed his eyes reflecting eerily the way they sometimes did when light caught on them, or they really hated social interactions. Regardless, who was Virgil to stop their frantic flee to safety?

There was an ominous cracking sound from the direction they’d just run off in.

That could be anything, Virgil told himself stalwartly.

As if in retribution for the thought, there was a splash, as though perhaps something approximately human-sized had been abruptly plunged into the waters of an icy lake.

Virgil was sighing even as he hurried onto the ice after them.

Sure enough, the stranger was scrabbling at the edge of the brand-new hole they’d made, eyes wide and breath coming in tiny little gasps as they clawed at the ice.

He stepped closer testingly, and the ice pinged in warning, hairline fractures spreading under his feet. The stranger let out a half-sob, probably thinking that an evil demon was taunting them or something.

Virgil pulled off his cloak, brushing his fingers over the clumsy stitching of the patch closest to the neckline for good luck. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to patch it up further after this.

His ears catching every minute noise the ice made, he leaned forward as far as he could and tossed one end of the cloak in front of the stranger’s grasping hands.

They latched on with surprising speed, maybe due to cold shock, and Virgil tugged them up.

The ice in front of them broke the moment their weight was leaning on it, and he hissed through gritted teeth. Didn’t this person know anything about escaping thin ice?

He struggled to speak, and only growled, the noise low and half-choked. Somewhere between his mind and his mouth, the words became tangled and refused to form. He would guess that horrific man-eating monsters didn’t deserve to talk, but he’d witnessed other demons chattering away, so maybe it was just something in his brain that had been scrambled. Figured.

Giving up on words, he instead slowly lowered himself until he was flat on his stomach, now eye level with the stranger. He forced his hand into a flat shape and laid it on the ice several times, hoping that they would catch on.

Gradually, they did, though they looked as though they could hardly believe they were listening. They stretched their arms out and kicked their back legs in the water until they were as level as possible, though their movements were growing more sluggish.

Virgil reeled the cloak towards him, providing the leverage needed to help them propel themselves onto flat, unbroken ice. He relaxed slightly in relief.

They immediately tried to get to their knees, prompting a creak from the ice beneath them, and Virgil snarled so viciously that they went right back down like their limbs had given out, terrified eyes locked on him.

That was one way to tell them not to stand, he supposed.

As quickly as he could, he shuffled back to solid ice, towing the stranger along with him over the smooth icy expanse. Once the ice beneath them was solid against even a few elbow jabs, he rose to his feet and gestured for them to do the same.

Apparently being dunked in life-threatening waters had taken the fight out of them, because they followed without protest, trembling from the cold or fear or both. They were still clutching tightly to the cloak, so Virgil used it to lead them along the ice until they reached solid ground again, mindful of their slow, stumbling pace.

All told, they hadn’t been in the water very long, perhaps under a minute or two. Still, Virgil knew better than to leave them to their own devices. One didn’t grow up on an icy mountain range without knowing what the cold could do to people.

He sniffed the air, the dip in water thankfully muting the scent beside him, and easily caught the trail that the human must have taken. Hopefully, it would lead to an actual building as opposed to some campsite in the woods.

The stranger seemed to be about Thomas’s age, though they currently looked more like a drowned mouse than anything else, and Virgil had been able to lift Thomas up into a fireman’s carry even before he’d gotten the supernatural strength of a demon, so he had no problem scooping them up and beginning to run.

They kicked and flailed for a short moment before seeming to just… give up, letting their limbs go limp and heavy, their only movement the full-body shivering that was still tearing through them.

Shivering was good, Virgil reminded himself, shivering meant they weren’t at lethally dangerous levels of cold or shock yet. He should feel reassured about that, but he couldn’t ignore the terror that was practically coming off the stranger in waves.

He couldn't shake away the memories of carrying a younger Thomas around in the same hold, either. The gleeful shrieks of his kid brother being toted around overlapped with the taut, tremulous silence of this stranger, painful nostalgia twisting in his chest.

Once again, the world proved that he was right to have left Thomas. Even the idea of his little brother like this-- drenched and resigned and terrified of him-- was enough to make his stomach roll. He didn’t want to imagine how bad it would feel to face it in reality.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek and kept moving, hoping that shelter was nearby.

-

The upside was that Virgil had found a small house, saturated thickly enough with the stranger’s scent that it had to be their home.

The downside was that there was someone in there.

The other downside was that as soon as he got within sight of the little home, the drowned-kitten stranger found a reserve of energy apparently dedicated to trying to smack the shit out of him.

He grunted in annoyance as another swing thwapped against the back of his head, their other hand frantically attempting to grab at his ears and throat with surprising vehemence. It was about as effective in actually harming him as a kitten’s pounce, but he tilted his head away anyways before they could get too close to one of his eyes. Sure, his eye would probably heal from any damage human hands could inflict, but superhuman regeneration didn’t mean he couldn’t feel it.

Calm down, he tried to project, but the few throaty chirrups that curled out of him weren’t exactly reassuring to a human.

They continued to struggle, not subsiding even when Virgil’s annoyance turned to literal growling, and he eventually just gave in and crouched to shift them off his shoulders.

Rather than try to struggle to their feet and bolt for the door, they plunged a hand into a pocket and came out with-- Virgil’s irritated rumble spiked up into an alarmed snarl, but he was too late to keep them from putting the carved whistle to their lips and blowing hard.

The piercing noise was enough to make him shift back, and two heartbeats later, the door of the cabin slammed open, revealing the silhouette of a new stranger.

Next to him, Drowned-Kitten was making a motion with their hands over and over, but the new person barely even glanced at them before running directly at Virgil, pulling a knife from a sheath with vicious intent.

The dagger’s blade practically glowed, even in the dark of the night, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose up the moment it got in range. He jumped backwards, but Stab-Happy just kept coming, matching his ‘back-off’ growl with a shattered human snarl of her own.

Slayer-knife or not, this human didn’t have nearly half the trained grace he’d witnessed from Roman, and so he was able to trip her up and grab her wrist mid-strike, ignoring the way being so close to the blade made his skin crawl.

He twisted, forcing her to drop the knife, and the moment it hit the ground, he dragged her back toward the open doorway, ignoring her vicious swearing as she struggled to break away.

Drowned-Kitten made a choked-off sound but was barely able to move, let alone stand and stop him.

The interior of the cabin provided what he needed, and he yanked a blanket from the mat on the floor and shoved Stabby into a chair, swiftly wrapping the blanket around her until she could only snap her teeth and kick her legs, the rest of her swaddled against the chair back.

“Get back here!” she screamed when he turned back to the door, the anger in her voice cracking into something close to fear.

Drowned-Kitten had crawled a few paces from where he’d left them, and they’d grabbed the fallen blade. Virgil grimaced as they pointed it at him with trembling hands, looking frantic enough that they seemed more likely to injure themself with the jittering knife than him.

He couldn’t tell exactly in the dark, but it seemed like their hands were turning the shiny red that heralded frostbite. They needed treatment. Why did people have to make everything so damned difficult?

A moment passed in this silent standoff, Stabby’s angry shouts still going strong, and Drowned-Kitten’s gaze strayed past Virgil to the doorway before their gaze went firm and hard.

They tightened their hand on the knife hilt-- and ran it clumsily over their other palm, opening a thin red line.

Virgil was there in the next instant, wrenching the knife away before they could try again for a less shallow injury. They shuddered but didn’t recoil, tucking their face away like they didn’t want to see what happened next.

The smell of blood turned thick and cloying in the air, and Virgil swallowed the sudden welling of saliva in his mouth with no little irritation.

Snarling, he grabbed the back of their shirt with his other hand and yanked, using the shirt as a makeshift scruff and stomping back inside. He dropped them on the mat, pulling the satchel he’d restocked at the last town from his back.

“Don’t you dare touch them, you monster!” Stabby yelled indignantly, and Virgil ignored her entirely to press a pad of gauze against the cut and breathe very carefully through his mouth.

Drowned-Kitten watched him wind thin cloth bandages around the gauze with wide eyes, like they weren’t quite sure this was real. More of those hand motions-- signs?-- and even Stabby grew quiet, thankfully for the headache beginning to pulse behind Virgil’s eyes.

The two of them were eerily silent as they watched him poke around their cozy little home with bated breath, dragging any extra cloth he could find to drape over the one who’d fallen into freezing waters and stoking the fire stove until warmth suffused the room.

Drowned-Kitten’s breathing turned strained almost immediately, the increasing temperature likely feeling much too hot on their skin, but they grit their teeth through it and didn’t try to shed any of the blankets after Virgil just insistently pressed them back on.

He crouched in front of them and held his hands up, moving his fingers through the slow stretches that would help ease the near-frostnip that had blistered Drowned-Kitten’s fingertips red. This, at least, was something he was familiar with, having done it frequently for passing travelers back when he apprenticed under the town’s doctor.

Back then, he’d mostly helped neighbors with colds or bruises and ran delivery errands, rarely seeing the doctor perform actual large-scale treatments. How was it that he was only getting more experience with medicine out in the field after becoming a demon?

Seriously. He was pretty sure that having a monster tending to them was freaking people out.

Case in point, the silent, secretive conversation that the two teens behind him were trying to have, made slightly less discreet by Stabby’s occasional hissed answer. He added a bit more charcoal to the stove, and rose from his squatted position to stare at the two of them, feeling fairly satisfied at the way Drowned-Kitten no longer looked as though they’d been dunked in freezing waters.

It had been an annoying detour, but at least he could say that he hadn’t yet managed to drive someone to death-by-lake just by walking past them.

Dawn would come soon. He unraveled the knotting keeping Stabby in the chair and ducked through the door back into the cold night air before she could fully untangle herself.

He took the knife with him.

-

Naturally, because the fates weren’t fond of him, the pair found him curled up in a cave the next day.

Drowned-Kitten-- or Harley, as Virgil would learn-- could smell demons, and had followed his trail, DW-- also known as Stabby-- right behind them. He hadn’t bothered to hide his scent trail because he hadn’t caught wind of another demon for miles, and foolishly assumed that he was safe. Which had led to him being cornered and interrogated by two teenagers.

Yeah, he’d been less than pleased.

Still, he could snarl and snap until they stepped out of his cave, but he couldn’t exactly get away with the sunlight bright overhead. So, he grumpily conceded to the questioning.

Surprisingly enough, they seemed to believe him when he shook his head ‘no’ to ‘are you going to eat people’. They hadn’t outright expressed doubts, at least. It was kind of concerning that they took his word for it.

DW had demanded the knife back, at least. Smart kid.

He’d attempted to shoo them off afterwards, but Harley had been very insistent on ‘repaying their debt’, wary in the way that meant someone had given them kindness before, but with strings attached. DW had eyed him with more blatant suspicion.

They didn’t owe him anything. Debts, deals, returned favors... Those were for people, not monsters. Virgil had dragged a hand over his face and wished he could say as much.

And then he’d paused.

He’d jabbed a clawed finger at the little hand signs that Harley made, the ones DW had been translating the entire time, and tried to mimic them sloppily until the two cottoned on to what he was asking.

Lessons in hand-speech.

Maybe there was still a way for him to speak after all.

-

From there, they settled into routine.

Virgil spent his days in the shadiest corner of their little house at the urging of Harley’s puppy-dog eyes, and at night, after their daily work was done, he would slink out under DW’s wary gaze and learn how to angle his hands into the proper shapes and flick small motions full of meaning in the right directions.

He picked up on the structure of the language surprisingly fast. Harley was a patient teacher, and DW was always willing to provide extra details on where Virgil had gone wrong.

He’d half expected them to usher him out the door once he’d had the basics down, but the season began to turn and still, they allowed his presence. The blatant trust was enough to make him worry, though any attempts to convince them to be more careful around demons earned him a confused look from Harley and a derisive snort from DW.

Hopefully, Thomas wasn’t being so reckless.

Since he was staying, he insisted on carrying their heavier goods down to the market in the nearby town, heading out with them in the early-morning dark and making sure they didn’t fall into any more lakes on the way there. He spent those market days waiting in a dark spot, his nerves frayed, until evening fell and he could meet them at their agreed rendezvous point.

As he adjusted to the sudden presences around him after so long traveling alone, the two adjusted to him as well. He hadn’t realized just how many noises he made aloud in substitute for his thoughts until Harley showed him all the signs for different emotions, and matched each of them with a soft imitation of Virgil’s growl, or huff, or even, embarrassingly, that cat-like purr that got started when he was particularly pleased. DW had laughed hard enough to make her side cramp up.

He could admit it. It was… nice. To not be feared. To have people to look after again.

Naturally, though, his occasional presence at their side couldn’t go unnoticed forever, and once one person knew, practically the whole town was guaranteed to hear about it. If Virgil had been paying better attention to anything but the two teens under his protection, he could have had advance warning.

But he hadn’t, and so he wasn’t ready when a polite knock came at the door, unusual considering how remote their little home was. He wasn’t ready for the sudden foreboding that washed over him as the three of them exchanged glances.

He wasn’t ready when DW opened the door to the sight of a smiling stranger with a sun-bright sword at his hip.

[five-rivers]

Solutions to Nonlinear Equations

For @currentlylurking for the Phic Phight.  :)

.

“Ancients, Vlad.  I’m not rejecting you because I’m a rebellious teenager and you’re an adult, I’m rejecting you because you’re incredibly creepy.”

Vlad sniffed in what he hoped was an aristocratic manner and raised an eyebrow, minutely adjusting his grip on Daniel to keep him pinned to the floor.  

“We’re human-ghost hybrids, Daniel.  I’d hoped that you’d have realized by now that we are meant to be ‘creepy.’”

Daniel squirmed and began to mutter into the carpet. “Clockwork never acts like this, I’m fine with him—”

Vlad pulled back as if burned.  He hadn’t heard that name in—in—

In a long time.  

Years.  

The thought was almost expelled from his head when Daniel managed to elbow him in the jaw hard enough to make him see stars. Before he knew it, Daniel had slipped from his grasp and zoomed away.  

Whatever aspersions Vlad cast on Daniel’s mastery of his ghostly abilities, the boy was fast.  When he put his mind to escaping instead of picking a fight, he managed it more often than not, to Vlad’s great frustration.  Hence Vlad’s usual strategy of needling the younger half-ghost until fighting was the only thing on Daniel’s mind.  

He set down on a nearby roof.  There went his plans for the day.  Which, admittedly, had consisted of distracting Daniel while his ghostly minions set up a nasty surprise for him at the school, hence making him fail his test, which would, in turn, convince Maddie and Jack to let Vlad set Daniel up with a tutor, something he had suggested to them earlier, and—

Well.  Daniel would find them, now, no doubt.  

Ah, well.  

He had more important things on his mind, now.  Such as, how in two worlds did Daniel know Clockwork?  Because Daniel never just said things like that.  He barely knew anything about ghost culture.  He wouldn’t know to bring up obscure, secretive, ghost historical figures.  He wouldn’t know what that particular name would mean to Vlad.  

Tongues of fire flared out of his fingers, bringing a measure of stability to the gyrations of his core and his emotions.  

Daniel knew Clockwork.  And, it seemed, met him with some regularity.  Enough for him to compare his actions to Vlad’s.  

Would that ghost never be satisfied with ruining Vlad’s life?  Was he not satisfied with—

He cut off the thought, shaking his head.  Never mind that.  

What Vlad needed to do was find Clockwork.  Which meant inducing Danny to go to him at a time when Vlad when Vlad could follow.  Which meant determining when he had visited Clockwork in the past.  An undertaking to be sure.  

He closed his eyes and teleported to his lab beneath his mansion.  

“Maddie!” he called out, even before his body had fully reformed.  

The hologram flickered to life with a faint crackled from the projector.  “What is it, sugarpie?” it asked with a smile.

“Review the audio recordings from Fentonworks,” ordered Vlad.  “Search for the term ‘Clockwork.’  Report findings to me.”

“Sure thing, honey!”

Vlad had to review the cheerfulness settings on the Maddie program.  Maddie was upbeat, but not that upbeat.  This was almost sickly sweet.  

He threw himself into a nearby chair.  

Clockwork.  He thought he’d never hear that name again.  Not after he’d been literally and figuratively ghosted by him.  

He telekinetically pulled a book off his shelf. He ran his fingers over the leather tooling on the cover.  The book had been given to him by Clockwork, years ago, when he was still in that hospital.

Clockwork had been the one to first show him the Ghost Zone, and all the wonders in it.  Clockwork had been his friend, his only friend, through that long, agonizing hospital stay. He had been supportive, wonderful, kind. He visited often, though not on a regular schedule.  He’d helped Vlad ride out the waves of misery and anger that so often threatened to overwhelm him.  

Then, without warning, nothing.  

No goodbye.  The last time he left, he had even said something along the lines of ‘see you soon,’ although the memory was frayed from age and Vlad could no longer recall the exact words.  For a long time, Vlad had worried something disastrous had happened to Clockwork. But then he had finally managed to build his own portal, reach the Ghost Zone under his own power, and, according to every search he did, every line of inquiry that bore fruit, Clockwork was just fine.  

Vlad had been furious.  He had been betrayed.  He had spent the better half of a decade trying to plot revenge against Clockwork, before realizing that was akin to plotting revenge against a god and turning his sights to a more manageable target.  

Now…

Now, Vlad just wanted answers.  Both as to the reason behind his abandonment and as to why Clockwork was apparently repeating history with Daniel.  

“Sweetie pie,” said the hologram, with a chime, “audio processing complete.  There are over ninety-nine instances where the word ‘clockwork’ is mentioned.  Would you like to play the selected files?”

“Yes,” said Vlad.  “Include the video portions where available, and the thirty seconds immediately prior to and following the mention.”

He turned his attention to the nearest screen.  He had a lot of videos to watch.  

There was an envelope pinned to it.  It was sealed with wax, impressed with the image of a pocket watch and the initials CW.  Vlad attempted, and failed, to suppress the growl that grew in the back of his throat. Was this a joke to Clockwork?

He tore the envelope from the screen, ripped it open with equal viciousness, and began to read.

.

Three cups sat on the tea service tray next to the teapot.

“Are you expecting someone else,” asked Danny, “or am I going to break one of these?”

Clockwork chuckled as he began to pour the tea.  “The former,” he said.  “Although you may always surprise me with the latter.”

He handed Danny his cup.  Danny inhaled deeply.  It smelled sweet.  “What is it?” he asked.  

“A chamomile blend,” said Clockwork.  “For calm.”

“I think Sam drinks chamomile before she goes to bed,” observed Danny, offhandedly.  “Who’s coming?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Danny made a face.  “Do you have to be mysterious all—”

The front door of Clockwork’s lair slammed open, and Danny jolted forward in alarm – the only people who regularly did that were the Observants, who didn’t much care for Danny – but Clockwork put a steadying hand on his shoulder and rewound his tea into his cup.

“Clockwork!” came the expected yell.  The yeller, however…

“Is that Vlad?” asked Danny, not quite scandalized, but more than a little surprised.  

“Why, yes,” said Clockwork.  

“Did you – Clockwork, did you invite him here?”

“Other than the Observants,” said Clockwork, “no one can enter unless I will it.”  He took a sip of his tea.  

“But,” started Danny.  

Clockwork raised a hand.  “Don’t worry, he’ll find us soon enough.”  He repurposed the hand to pat Danny’s knee.  “And even should he prove to be in a combative mood, I will not allow you to come to harm.  You are safe here, Daniel.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Danny, looking away, towards the door in the sitting room through which Vlad would presumably enter.  

Sure enough, a few seconds later Vlad half-flew half-skidded into Clockwork’s sitting room.  He leveled an accusatory finger at Clockwork.  “You!” he proclaimed, with a great deal of venom.  

“Hello, Vladimir, I’ve poured you some tea.  Why don’t you sit down?  I understand it has been some time.”

“You under-?  No!  I will not sit down!  I will not drink your tea.  Not after you abandoned me for over a decade, just like that bumbling oaf—”

“Hey!” interjected Danny, not only because Vlad had once again insulted his father, but because he could tell that Clockwork, regardless of his stoic façade, was actually quite upset.  

“Don’t interrupt me, Daniel,” snapped Vlad.  “You don’t know what this, this ghost is. What he does.  You don’t know that he gets close to you, makes you think you’re friends, and then drops you without a moment’s notice.  Did you think it was funny to string along a man in dire straits? Did you?”

“I did not abandon you, Vladimir, I—”

Vlad scoffed and went on a tirade that Danny honestly found hard to parse.  But it sounded like Vlad and Clockwork had known each other in the past and then fallen out of contact in a way that aggravated Vlad’s abandonment issues.  Which didn’t seem like Clockwork at all, but Vlad sounded extremely certain and insistent, and Clockwork’s upset was actually finding its way into his voice, now.  Danny didn’t—

With all the force and abruptness of epiphany, Danny realized what was going on here.  

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Danny, putting down his cup. “Vlad, breathe or whatever.  Clockwork, you did tell Vlad that you experience time nonlinearly, right?”

“Of course,” said Clockwork, clearly offended.

“But Vlad, ah, had you gone through natural portals often when you met Clockwork?  Or, like, did you ever see him without him initiating contact?”

“I didn’t have my portal built yet, Daniel, so, no.”

Danny turned to Clockwork.  “Why did you-?  No that doesn’t matter.  Haaauuuhh, Clockwork, do you have-?”

Clockwork waved a hand and a whiteboard appeared.  

“Thanks,” said Danny, picking a marker up from the little shelf on the bottom.  He uncapped it, then recapped it.  “Actually, before that.  Vlad—” he pointed at Vlad, who looked about one second from exploding “—you have some idea of how old Clockwork is, right?  Or at least how old ghosts can get?”

“Yes, Daniel,” said Vlad, managing to overlay his supercilious ‘I know better than you’ attitude over his still obvious anger.

“Okay, great.  So, just to establish, Clockwork has been around at least since, uh, beginning of time?”

“Give or take,” agreed Clockwork.  “Although I have not experienced it all directly.”

“Right,” said Danny.  “Just, already, his perception of time is different from our because of age differences.”

Vlad looked slightly less angry, and slightly closer to curious.  

“But, then, there’s the larger issue,” continued Danny.  This time his uncapping of the marker was decisive.  He drew a flat, straight, horizontal line across the whiteboard.  “This is our timeline.  We deal with time linearly.  We’ve also got, I don’t know, parallel timelines, like this.”  He drew several more lines.  “You following so far?”

“Yes, Daniel, I’ve read my share of science fiction.”

He was probably rolling his eyes.  Curse his solid-colored red eyes.  It made interpreting his looks and figuring out where he was looking during a fight much more difficult.  

“Anyway, Clockwork isn’t on any of these lines. Because he experiences time nonlinearly.”  He drew a squiggly up and down line on the board that resembled the world’s saddest sine wave.  Or cosine wave.  There wasn’t a y-axis on the not-quite-graph, so it wasn’t like anyone could tell the difference.  They were effectively the same.  

And Vlad still made fun of him for failing math. Danny knew plenty about math.  He just didn’t have time to do the work.  Mostly because of Vlad.  

“Now, that, that is Clockwork’s timeline.  It isn’t always in contact with ours.  It’s, like, solutions to a system of equations. Nonlinear equations,” he specified, in case it had been too long since Vlad had encountered basic high-school-level algebra.

“It is somewhat more complicated than that, Daniel,” said Clockwork, exasperated.  “It’s more of—"  

“Yeah, but this gets the idea across more than the whole parade metaphor, doesn’t it?”

“I would say not.  This doesn’t even begin to touch on my abilities.”

“That’s because we’re just talking about your perception of time,” said Danny.  He considered for a moment.  “And also your ability to interact with our timeline.”

“Which includes my ability to perceive multiple timelines.”

“But that’s complicated, and I still don’t get it,” complained Danny.  

“It is less complicated than what you are currently trying to explain.”

“To you maybe, but the whole point of this is that you aren’t seeing things the same way we are.  You disappeared on Vlad, what, a decade ago?”  He looked to Vlad for confirmation.  

“A decade is hardly any time at all,” said Clockwork with exasperation.  He sipped at his tea.  

“It was fifteen years.”

Clockwork made a somewhat dismissive motion with a gloved hand.  “It’s a tiny fraction of your life as a whole.”

“It’s… closer to a third of his current lifetime,” said Danny with a wince.  “Or a fourth?  I don’t know how old you are, dude.”

“I went to college with your parents.”

“I know, and you were already graying then. Your age is weirdly hard to place.”

Vlad gave Danny a look, but his body language was no longer screaming ‘I’m going to beat the snot after you.’  Danny counted that as a win under the current circumstances.  He disliked Vlad, but in a fight with Clockwork… Well, Clockwork could demolish just about anyone.  

Not that Clockwork would.  Just that he could.  

“Daniel—”

“Please, Vladimir.  Just sit down.  Try the tea. I made it for you.  I knew you would be upset, although I could not see exactly why.”  Clockwork was almost pouting, now.  “Fifteen years is such a short time.”

“Clockwork, I’m fifteen.”

“I know,” said Clockwork, patting Danny on the knee. “Your timeline is so small.  And cute.”

Vlad was now distinctly on his back foot, offput and disarmed.  “His timeline is cute?”

“It is.  Don’t worry, yours is almost as cute.”

Vlad opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish. Danny pushed the whiteboard away.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he said.  “Like I said, different perception of time.”

“I really didn’t mean to make you feel abandoned, Vladimir.  I simply wanted to give you some time to, ah, how should I put this?  Have space?  Find yourself?”

Vlad sat heavily on the couch.  

“You get used to it,” said Danny.  “But, Clockwork, do you think you can talk him into having fewer evil plans?  Because, really.  There are way too many.  Like, one a week.  They’re destroying my grades.  Have you ever seen anyone else who had weekly evil plans?”

“Evil plans, Vladimir?  Really?”

[happyandticklish]

Disarming Your Demons

Notes: Okay, so I’m only halfway through Jujutsu Kaisen, but I had an idea and I had to write it down. I’m not sure if I’m gonna write anything else for it until I actually finish the show, but I said that before and now this exists, so who knows really. 

Summary: Itadori discovers a new method to deal with misbehaving curses. 

Sharing a body with a thousand-year-old curse could have its downfalls, something Itadori was quickly becoming familiar with. Though he could control it most of the time, it was difficult, and took a strain on his mind and body. He put on a brave face afterwards, insisting that it was no big deal, but the truth was anything but. Sukuna’s ability to switch out with him was growing stronger, and the exhaustion was setting in faster now with each time Itadori wrestled back control over his body. In the heat of battle was one thing, edged on by desperation and the will to keep his friends alive. But it was the other times, when Itadori was tired and vulnerable and fully unprepared to battle his literal inner demons, that he regretted the lifestyle most.

Say, for instance, in his dorm room, half-asleep and dreary from a battle earlier that day.

“Hello again.”

Switching out with Sukuna was strange. He didn’t feel it in a physical sense, no pain or sensation inflicted upon him. One moment he was in his body, and the next he was trapped, a helpless bystander to the other’s will.

“You know, it’s awfully bold of those teachers of yours to leave you all alone like this at night.” Sukuna stood, stretching his arms above his head in satisfaction. “Do they really put so much stock in you to assume you’d be able to fight me, like this?”

“Sukuna.” Itadori’s voice was inaudible to anyone who might be passing by, an aimless thought floating around in his consciousness, but he knew the other could hear him nonetheless. “Give me back my body!”

“Please,” Sukuna dismissed, waving one hand as he strolled around the dorm, examining objects with a vague curiosity. “After you used me earlier? I’m growing rather tired of this dynamic, you know. Only ever summoning me when you need your friend healed, or a new big baddie rears its odious head. Then, afterwards, you hide me away without so much as a thank you.”

“I do appreciate your help,” Itadori started carefully, trying to keep his tone neutral. It was difficult though, when the other could easily read his true thoughts. “But you can’t expect me to simply hand my body over like some kind of puppet. I know what your true intentions are, and I won’t let you harm my friends or anyone else.”

“Oh, of course not, not heroic, selfless Itadori.” He placed a hand on the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open with one hand. “I wonder what would happen if I went to pay them a little visit now?”

“No!”

“Oh? Don’t like that, do you. Then why don’t you do something about it? Force me back, take over your body once more.” Sukuna chuckled dryly, pausing in the doorway. “If you can, that is. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the toll this is taking on you. Do you really think you have the strength to best me now, when you’re tired and weak from battle?”

Itadori tried, he really did. He knew he had to do this, but Sukuna was right. In his current state, he could hardly focus enough to remain present enough to speak to the other, let alone reclaim his physical form. With his last remaining willpower, he managed to gather enough strength to take control of one arm before he found himself blocked by the other. 

Sukuna’s eyes widened, and then he laughed, a throaty, derisive thing that made Itadori clench the fist he had. “One arm? Is that it? You truly are in for it now. I must say, I am impressed though. I didn’t think you had even that in you. Still, it’s no matter. I could end your world as you know it with both my hands tied behind my back. This pathetic defense is but a pebble in my path. I must thank you for the amusing display though—I needed a good laugh.”

Itadori watched helplessly as his body moved forward against his will, his mind racing as he tried to think of anything he could do in his position.

I needed a good laugh.

That was it!

Itadori would have smiled if he could use his mouth. An idea was formulating in his mind, crazy and nonsensical, but possibly just the thing he needed. It was a method that Gojo had employed once, to train him to focus on maintaining curse energy and resist distractions. He had no idea if the same thing would work on Sukuna, but seeing as he was in his body and therefore should be just as susceptible as Itadori had been, it just might work.

Sukuna stopped short as a jolt of sensation shot through him, and he snapped his head down to see his own hand squeezing his hip. “What the hell?”

“Ha! I didn’t think it would actually work!” Itadori’s voice rang out triumphant through the other’s mind as he squeezed again and again, quick and sudden so that Sukuna had no time to adjust to them. “Who knew that my own ticklishness would come in handy one day?”

“Tickli—what?” Sukuna started in confusion, but quickly slapped his other hand to his mouth to hold back… was that laughter?

He stumbled back against the wall, torn between shoving the other’s hands away and holding back the embarrassing noises leaking between his fingers. It was in times like these that he missed his four arms. It was hard enough to work with only two arms—one was impossible.

“W-What are you d-dohoing?” Sukuna grunted, trying to sound intimidating despite the silly grin quickly taking hold of his features.

“Tickling you, duh.” It was weird tickling his own body, and weirder still to have the sensation disconnected from him. He could feel the AC in the hallway on his arm, and the warmth of his hip under his hand, but that was all. It was disconcerting, but Itadori was grateful for it in this moment. He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to continue if he could feel everything the other was feeling. He could only imagine how Sukuna was managing to stop himself from collapsing into an Itadori-sized puddle of laughter on the ground. “Haven’t you ever heard of tickling before?”

“I-Is that some k-kind of hihidden Jujutsu?” Sukuna snapped angrily, annoyed at the chuckle that had slipped into his words halfway through.

Laughter rang through his head, unhelpfully as Sukuna tried to hold back his own. “Dude, what? Of course not! Tickling is… well, it’s a human thing you know? When you lightly touch the human body, like this—” he scribbled his fingers up his sides suddenly—“They laugh! I’m not sure why though… science is still a bit iffy on that.”

Sukuna had stopped listening at this point. He had burst into panicked giggles the second Itadori touched his side, unprepared for the other’s change in strategy. Sukuna’s hand come down, wrapping around his wrist and pulling it up, away from his sides.

He drew in an exhausted breath, grinning in relief as he held the other firmly away from him. “There. Your… tickling, or whatever it is, is ineffectual now. Seems like you didn’t think this plan through, did you now?”

He was right. It was a temporary solution, but the truth was that Itadori was going to get nowhere with just one hand. Which was why…

Sukuna’s eyes widened as he felt a sudden pull at his person once more. His body was rebelling, and he fought back, trying to push back at Itadori’s attempt to switch back. He was getting stronger now, and Itadori was still weak, so it should be nothing to keep control from the brat. What he hadn’t expected was for Itadori to focus all his energy on reclaiming a single part of his body, leaving Sukuna unprepared for the concentrated force. He felt his fingers slipping on his wrist, his left arm losing connection just like the first one had.

“No!” Sukuna growled, but it was too late. Both arms were lost to him now, and he knew if Itadori could, he would be smirking.

“Yes,” Itadori countered. Surprisingly enough, he kept his one arm raised. He lowered the other one, poising his fingers under his arms and wiggling them in the air threateningly. “I remember this always being one of my worst spots. Unfortunately for you, I’m afraid.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes in confusion, but before he could say anything he was stopped by the sensation of nails gently spidering under his arm. It was a slow, unhurried process, that never missed its mark. Instinct shot through him like a bullet and Sukuna attempted to bring his arm down protectively. He was stopped by the other’s remaining control of the limb, which kept it raised exposed and vulnerable over his head. It didn’t help that Itadori hadn’t worn a shirt to bed the previous night, so Itadori had full access to his bare torso.

Sukuna spluttered over a laugh, a hysterical cackling that only grew in desperation as time went on. Sparks flurried through him, his stomach erupting with what felt like millions of butterflies all taking off at the same time. It was impossible to explain how unbearable the feeling was, and Sukuna wondered how humans lived with such a weakness on their body all this time.

“A-Ahaha, stahahahap, eh, gah, stahahahap i-ihihit!” Sukuna’s head was thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut as a wild grin danced along his features. “Y-Yohohou irritahahating b-brahat!”

“Intense, right?” Itadori asked, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice. “If only you had chosen a less ticklish vessel. You’re in for it now, though. I got to be honest, it’s kind of funny seeing a bigshot curse like you writhing around like a worm on a hook.”

“Shuhuhut uhuhuhup!” Sukuna demanded, though it came out far more giggly than he would have liked. He couldn’t concentrate like this, couldn’t even begin to start to try to reclaim his arms. He needed him to move his hand, maybe back to his hips, or somewhere else, anywhere else. He wasn’t sure if the rest of this body was less ticklish, only that he needed Itadori to move away from that spot.

“Not a chance,” Itadori scoffed. “This is way too much fun! Of course, you could always stop me. Just switch back and the tickling won’t affect you anymore; it’s that easy.”

“L-Lihihike hehehell Ihihihihi wihihihill!” He was slipping now, his body sliding down the wall in an attempt to get away. Unfortunately, you can’t run away from yourself, and those wiggling fingers followed him all the way down. “Cuhuhut ihihit ohohout wihihihith thahahat sphohohot!”

“Why?” Itadori asked innocently, loving this a bit too much for his own good. But could he really help it when he was given such a perfect oppurtunity for revenge? “Does it tickle too much for the big bad curse?”

Sukuna was going to kill him. Then, once he was sure the pest was well and truly dead, he was going to bring him back to life so he could kill him all over again. Right now, however, his focus was only on those devastating nails, light, barely-there touches that had his mind reeling. When his fingers traveled a bit too high, skittering at the top of his armpits, he finally gave in. “Yehehehes, ohohokay, ihihit tihihihickles, ohohor whahahatever y-yohou cahahalled ihihit! Sohohomewhehere ehehelse!”

“Are you sure you want me to go somewhere else?” Itadori questioned teasingly, circling the area with just one finger. Sukuna ducked his chin into his chest, unable to hold back the flood of giggles that caused. “Really sure?”

“Y-Yohohou, ahaha, yohou lihihittle—”

“Okay, okay.” Itadori moved his hand away, pulling his other arm down. Sukuna exhaled in relief, an exhausted grin still dancing on his features. Unfortunately, Itadori noticed. “Hey, don’t relax just yet. I’m not done with you. After all, you still haven’t given me back my body, have you?”

“What the hell—noHOHO!” Sukuna burst into laughter anew as his arms wrapped around himself, trapping him in a tickly hug as fingers wiggled up and down his sides. “S-SHIHIHIT!”

“Regretting your words yet?”

Sukuna thrashed wildly, howling as he doubled over in a useless attempt to protect himself. The snarky remarks were gone now, so completely was he lost to his own laughter. His skin twitched and goosebumps scattered up his sides, a helpless reaction to the playful tickling.

Because it was playful. Despite everything, he could tell that Itadori was having fun with this. And maybe, just maybe, the other was too. His insides felt warm and fuzzy in a way they hadn’t in a while, his laughter peaking between desperation and silly giggles. It was strangely addicting to give in like this, allowing the tickling to consume his thoughts and blur out any remaining negativity.

It was… nice.

“I-IIHIHITADORI!” His head was thrown back, a hearty flush spreading across his cheeks and warming his skin. “I-IHIHI CAHAHAN’T!”

“You know how to stop this,” Itadori reminded him. “Just switch back and the tickling stops.”

Sukuna fell back on the floor, unable to hold himself up against the relentless tickling. He let out a frankly embarrassing squeak, the sensations breaking through the last of his revolve. And finally, at last, he caved in.

With a start, Itadori felt the other ducking back into himself, releasing his body in the process. He stopped wiggling his fingers, sitting up slowly as he regained control of himself once more. He was sweaty and exhausted, like he’d just ran a marathon, and he could feel that familiar floating sensation in the pit of his stomach that came with being tickled.

“Damn brat,” Sukuna complained from inside him, and Itadori smiled fondly. He would have to remember this method for next time.

“What the hell?”

Itadori startled as a voice shot through his thoughts, and he glanced up to see Megumi standing in the hallway. He was still in pajamas, and his hair was sticking out in several directions. The look on his face implied he’d just woken up. The two made eye contact, Megumi taking in Itadori’s flushed features and his sprawled position on the floor.

Megumi furrowed his brows in confusion. “Itadori? I heard a noise and I thought… are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” Itadori dismissed, sitting up slowly. “I was… sleep-walking. Yeah, that’s it. Just a weird dream, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Megumi continued to stare at him for a moment, clearly debating whether or not to believe the other. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Alright. If you say so. Just keep it down next time, will you? Some of us are actually trying to sleep.”

Itadori threw the other a hearty thumbs-up, grinning innocently. “Will do!”

Megumi frowned, but eventually disappeared back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Itadori stood up fully, his legs a little shaky from the previous tickling, and decided to do the same. It was the middle of the night after all—sleep was probably in order. However, as he turned the knob to shut the door behind him, he heard a voice loud and clear in his head.

“Sleep tonight, young sorcerer, and get your rest. Because tomorrow—” a sudden pinch to his side as Sukuna wrestled control of his hand—“it’s your turn.”

Itadori regained control almost instantly, and his hand was his again as though nothing had happened. He smiled nervously, not doubting the other’s words for a minute.

And as he got into bed that night, pulling the covers tight around himself, he found he couldn’t wait.

[stxleslyds]

Interesting take. I feel like the Jason doesn't like kid vigilantes thing only shows up in the Titans Tower story where he fights Tim. The only other time he says anything about sidekicks is when he tries to recruit Mia. He wanted to work with her not to stop her. In Lost Days he is happy to help some kid soldiers get revenge so I don't think it is the sidekick aspect he dislikes it is having sidekicks and not allowing them or yourself to do everything you can to stop the worse of the worse.

Hm, yeah, I think this is related to perspective and how we interpret what we are reading.

The Titans Tower story as you put it, never looked to me like “Jason not liking kid vigilantes”, it looked like Jason hated Tim Drake with everything that he had, Jason broke into TT and beat up Tim because he had “replaced” him. Geoff Johns literally came out of nowhere with that narrative, Jason, until that moment was very indifferent about Tim as an individual, his beef was with Bruce and the fact that not only did Bruce not “avenge” Jason by killing the Joker but he also had another child doing the same work he died doing at the age of 15.

In Teen Titans (2003) #29, Jason Todd is written as a petty little bitch, he comes to TT to beat Tim because he took his place as Robin and as a Titan (?), that never translated to me as Jason disliking child vigilantes because that’s not really what is happening and he was also incredibly OOC.

Jason is beating Tim to death just because Tim is Robin and a Titan and Jason feels replaced, he never said that he disliked sidekicks here, and neither did I.

He was just the worst kind of petty for absolutely no good reason.

Then the Mia thing, well, that one is different and I talked about those issues in a post last year, when Jason appeared in the Green Arrow book the events of UtRH had already passed. When he went to star city (?) he only did it to piss of Bruce, he said it himself, and in a sense Jason “tried to recruit” Mia in the same way he did with Onyx, only as a power move. In both instances Jason was playing a game where he acted like he wanted to build a team but in reality, he only wanted to cause trouble and turn people who thought differently than him against Batman (in Onyx’s case) and Oliver (in Mia’s case), which is also said in those GA issues.

At that time Jason had two purposes, survive and make Batman’s life a living hell by appearing everywhere and leaving people thinking whether their no killing route was the best. He wasn’t planning on building a team, he was planning on bringing chaos everywhere he went to piss off the Bat after Bruce had betrayed him at the end of UtRH.

Green Arrow (2001) #72.

When you mention Lost Days you lost me a little bit, because both times that Jason comes across kids in that book he is definitely not “happy to help”, although maybe that’s not exactly what you meant.

The first instance in which Jason comes across kids in that book is when he is training with Egon, a guy who murdered for a living, but also had a very shady side business that Jason found horrifying enough to make him poison Egon. I will leave several panels below.

Jason Todd is first and foremost a child protector.

Red Hood: The Lost Days #3.

And the second time, Jason comes across children in Somalia, he calls them “child soldiers” and he doesn’t help the kids fight, he kills the mercenaries that were there killing children for no reason at all.

At first Jason only said that he “ratted (the mercenaries) out” but later when he is talking with Talia, he says that he stopped them from killing anymore children.

Also, in this issue Talia mentions that half of the people that she sent Jason to ended up dead, and Jason explains why he killed them, two of the people he killed from this panel were people who harmed children.

So once again Jason is proven a child protector which, I believe, kinda makes the trope of Jason having kids/teens as sidekicks a little bit too OOC.

Red Hood: The Lost Days #4.

-

I don't think that he doesn't like sidekicks, I think that he would never put a kid/teen in danger himself, and he wouldn't put them in the position that he was put when he was 15. Jason could train "his sidekicks" all he wants (he was trained too) but the responsibility of their safety and livelihood would become an insane weight on his shoulders.

It is my belief that Jason would do anything to keep kids/teens away from the vigilante/superhero lifestyle. He fights so kids aren't left alone on the streets and have to fend for themselves, he doesn't want them to live their whole lives seeking justice, he wants them to live their lives as any kid should.

But then again, that's how I see things, we can both be right, like I said at the beginning, it is all about perspective.

[bigskydreaming]

I am looking (disrespectfully) at the trope of Bruce and other family members only seeming to respect Dick’s wishes when doing so aligns with what they already wanted to do.

Let’s go to the examples!

1) Bruce not broaching adoption with Dick because he wants to respect Dick’s first parents and feels like he would be taking their place or overstepping or putting himself in between Dick and his memories of his parents. Sometimes its cited that Dick himself expressed this wish early on after his parents died, sometimes its not and this is still just upheld as Bruce’s reasoning for not adopting Dick before he was already well into adulthood.

THE FATAL FLAW (in mine own personal opinion, natch. Personal mileage may vary, check your speedometer to be safe):

This particular plot point or tangle is in my experience ALWAYS paired with Bruce’s own insecurities about his role in Dick’s life, or not wanting to push that or receive an answer he doesn’t want to or is afraid to hear. Sometimes its about his fears of unworthiness to be Dick’s actual parent, etc, etc. But the bottom line is, there is always the presence of SOME element (and not a small one) in which Bruce’s own self-interest or feelings are protected by him NOT broaching the adoption conversation with Dick and having to confront these fears head on.

This is additionally juxtaposed with the problem that although there’s a lot of variance in regards to stories where Bruce fired Dick versus stories where Dick gave up being Robin and moved on to Nightwing voluntarily....there’s NOT a lot of stories where Dick makes Jason Robin himself or is asked by Bruce first. The part where Bruce takes this initiative on his own, without thinking through its repercussions on Dick emotionally.....this is practically always present.

Now, the problem here is that......Dick became or began becoming Robin well into his time with Bruce. Its frequently cited as the thing that began allowing them to truly connect, their time training and acting as Batman and Robin.

Meaning no matter WHAT interpretation you go with as to why specifically Dick chose the name Robin, whether it was a family nickname or an homage to Robin Hood.....the fact remains, NOTHING of Robin, THEMATICALLY, nothing that spoke to Dick in regards to what he wanted Robin to be - specifically in honor of his parents because avenging his parents and making sure what happened to them didn’t happen to others like, this was literally a key part of what bonded Dick and Bruce, the fact that Bruce was TRYING to help Dick specifically BECAUSE they shared this particular overlap of purpose - like the bottom line is, nothing about Robin CAME from Bruce. Or Dick’s feelings about Bruce. That....didn’t really even exist yet, at the time he created Robin. Everything about Robin, other than the physical costume itself, not even the design just the actual creation of it....all of that came from BEFORE he met Bruce. None of it was thoughts or feelings derived from BRUCE. Its the whole reason Dick was never Batkid or Batlad, or any derivative of Batman.

It all, ALL came from what Dick came to the manor WITH. Remnants of his life with his first family.

So the fatal flaw of Bruce’s reasoning that by not broaching the subject of adoption with Dick before well into adulthood, he was actually just respecting Dick’s relationship with his first parents and not trying to come between them and Dick’s memories and feelings about them....

All of this is inherently undermined by Bruce’s own actions.....when by repurposing Robin to ANY degree, even just to give the mantle to Jason.....this meant that he was inherently viewing Robin as being more about being Batman’s partner, HIS partner....then it was about being Dick’s heritage, his last intangible keepsake of his first family and life BEFORE Bruce.

In effect....Bruce making Jason Robin or firing Dick as Robin, either way....both betray Bruce’s OWN alleged intentions for only wanting to respect Dick’s relationship with his parents, and that being why he didn’t want to overstep by trying to impose or even ask for his own official parent/child relationship with Dick. Because that’s exactly what appropriating the Robin mantle was. It was Bruce ignoring the relationship Dick had with his parents and their memory and the fact that Robin was directly born of that....and making Robin entirely about Bruce’s OWN relationship with Dick, heedless of any other factors.

And the second Bruce did that.....his entire justification for not raising the adoption issue....disappears. It goes away. Because you can’t claim inaction being just a result of not wanting to disrespect something you’ve already voided respect for. No matter whether Bruce INTENDED it or not.....by crossing this boundary, Bruce already acted against Dick’s feelings in this regard and well, disregarded them....which makes claims of Bruce not raising the adoption issue pretty much JUST self-serving at that point. Its an alleged viewpoint of Dick’s that Bruce largely just ASSUMES....and only ultimately respects - in direct contrast to how he didn’t respect the associations Dick had with Robin - because it aligns with something Bruce ALREADY wanted to do, rather than what Dick actually wanted. It provided justification for Bruce to just....not have a conversation he was afraid to have. And that’s about Bruce at that point. Its not about Dick. Its just like...not.

2) Another example of this that is not unique to just Bruce, but recurs frequently in both canon and fanfics in Dick’s dynamics with other characters he’s close with.....is characters not apologizing for things they’ve done to Dick or raising the issue of things they did a long time ago but never apologized for....while claiming to do so because they thought DICK didn’t want to talk about it.

THE FATAL FLAW (in my own personal opinion. Nuances and variations may not be identical at all store locations, please see your local branch for details):

The particular problem I have here is that....Dick never ever ever in the history of ever and also the before ever time.....has EVER expressed a desire to avoid confrontation.

Like. That’s what he DOES. That’s his JAM. That’s literally CITED time and time again as one of the reasons he’s viewed as more of a people person and natural team leader than Bruce and other Batfam members....because he’s not afraid to cut straight (or bi) to the heart of the matter and air out a dispute.

In fact, this very character trait is one of the ones most commonly utilized AGAINST Dick in various depictions of him, as he’s often cited as TOO confrontational, TOO eager for a fight or conflict especially when his temper is engaged, such as when he’s well....personally hurt or offended.

So how does it follow, then, that avoiding tough conversations ONLY when its on the OTHER person to INITIATE, because they were the ones who DID the wrong-doing and Dick the subject of that rather than the instigator....how does it work, exactly, that these are the only times in which we DON’T tend to see a direct conversation about the harms done and the fallout that resulted? With it being claimed that this is solely for Dick’s benefit, out of a desire to avoid pulling him into an allegedly unnecessary (but really just unpleasant) confrontation?

When the concurrent reality is that whether stated or acknowledged or not.....avoiding these specific conversations and ONLY these conversations (as there never seems to be a problem finding canon or fanfic stories in which Dick apologizes for harm HE’S caused to others or is clearly expected to).....this avoidance also carries the side benefit of allowing the character who DID something wrong to Dick to....not ever have to have that super uncomfortable conversation in which they actually verbally acknowledge the thing they did to him and the effects it had on him, and apologize for that.....and then render themselves vulnerable to actually hearing whether or not he accepts their apology or is still upset with them regardless.

While - as long as they DON’T ever have this conversation, for whatever reason - they can look to the clear and consistent precedent of Dick continuing to work with people who have done things like oh, I don’t know....punched him in the face cuz they’re mad at him (and this isn’t a Bruce critical point, this is a whole damn family critical point as the only one who HASN’T actually done this is Duke. Well, Cass technically just threw him out a window, but I mean, tomato toh-mah-to). Writers and characters both can lean on the fact that actually Dick has a pretty clear track record of ultimately giving up a grudge or at least showing a willingness to look past those grudges enough that it doesn’t prevent him from still maintaining or resuming some kind of relationship with the person who hurt him.

And thus, like Example Numero Uno......this ultimately just lets other characters off the hook while claiming to do Dick a favor, but actually Dick receives no real benefit from it and instead now just has another instance of characters saying “see we respect your wishes” when ultimately their inaction is MORE in service to their own wishes and self-interests.

2b) See also the variation of this in which characters such as Bruce, Jason, Tim and assorted others like....are written specifically determining that they’re not going to apologize to Dick or beg his forgiveness because they feel they don’t DESERVE to be forgiven, and once again....its in HIS best interests that they not even give him the opportunity to say he forgives them....because they know Dick Grayson of course, and they know he’s too forgiving for his own good, so its better to like....not make it ever a possibility in this particular instance.

With the problem here being like.....Dick can’t and shouldn’t be expected to KNOW that’s their logic? So....all he’s going to actually SEE is loved ones just....not expressing remorse for hurting him or acknowledgment it even happened? Which....hurts?

So......hurting your loved one MORE after already hurting them....because you don’t feel you deserve to be forgiven for hurting them in the first place and are actually PROTECTING them from being hurt more when mistakenly forgiving you.....by.....hurting and continuing to hurt them with your silence and lack of evident remorse....

Mmmm.....

Its not the best approach, y’know?

Flaws are detected.

3) Dick’s friends and family manipulating situations in order to get the end result THEY desire, while claiming to do so for his benefit only. Dick being willing to manipulate people to achieve his own ends comes up a LOT actually....but there’s relatively little examination of how often people do this to him, claiming his best interests but really just circumventing his clearly stated desires for independence and the right to make his own choices about what HE needs....or when this is brought up, its usually limited to JUST Bruce doing it, but uh....no that ain’t it.

Specific examples of this are like when Wally joins the 1999 version of the Titans specifically to get Dick to join up, because in his estimation Dick needs more of a social life and is drowning himself with his responsibilities....and then quits not long after Dick is finally officially invested in staying with the team. Another example is when Roy gets Dick to join the Outsiders based entirely on his pitch of NOT treating the team like a family, like they did with the Titans, so that Dick could keep emotional distance and not be as worried about losing them like he suffered from losses like Donna....with his claim again being that he worried about Dick in the aftermath of that loss, etc.

And to be clear! Its not that I think Wally and Roy and others who do similar things have NEGATIVE intentions in mind for Dick. That’s the whole point of this post.....like the other examples, I fully believe THEY believe (or writers believe when writing them this way) that they have Dick’s best interests in mind and not their own. I just....disagree.

THE FATAL FLAW (at least as I see it here):

Is that I view this and Batfam members who do similar stuff as like.....falling into the trap of the savior friend complex. Its that thing when you see a friend hurting, and over time get FRUSTRATED by seeing this when a solution seems obvious to you but think they won’t take it because they’re too stubborn or don’t know what’s best for them....with this specifically recurring a LOT with Dick in particular, due to his core characterization of wanting to be the one to make his own choices. The problem here, same as the problem with the savior friend complex....is that it treats the subject of these views as like....incapable of determining what they need. Its a tacit condemnation that they actually don’t know how to cope with things and are doing it wrong - even though the ones making this assessment will never be the ones actually having to LIVE with the outcome of their meddling. Its the conviction that someone like Dick needs to be HANDLED, for his own good....because he can’t be trusted to KNOW what he needs, not as well as them at least.....and so they jump to manipulation rather than just....ASK him what he needs, or HOW they can best support him, or even just WHY he’s making the choices he is.

For instance, the problem with what Wally did was never that Dick wasn’t struggling. He was. He was drowning in his responsibilities, he had very little to no life outside of them.....Wally is not remotely in the wrong for WANTING to do something to change this situation. The problem is Wally basically defaulted to just...HANDLING his friend by restarting the Titans just to give Dick a social life again, which is pretty much a line straight out of the comics...and basically railroaded right over Dick’s initial ‘no’ when he first heard the proposal. And kept pushing things until Dick eventually joined up in order to get Wally to commit to the team too, because Wally spun it as though Dick was helping Wally by getting Wally to commit to the team for the very same reasons Wally wanted Dick to. And then....right after that, Wally quit to go back to just focusing on the Justice League, which was part of what Dick predicted would happen all along.

The thing was.....at no point along the way did Wally actually ask WHY Dick initially said no....he jumped straight to assuming his own view of the problem, that Dick just COULDN’T be made to ever see the reason to take a break occasionally and put his mental and emotional health as a priority. If he’d done this, Wally could have had dozens of other options to achieve his desired end result....he could’ve like....set up regular hangouts with Dick. 

But Wally jumped to assuming he knew the answer, he knew what was best for Dick, and that Dick’s logic was inherently self-destructive and self-flagellating.....and he felt the solution was to bring back the Titans, as he recalled their earlier times as Titans together as a time when Dick was better able to balance his social life and responsibilities.

But by not ever stopping to LISTEN to why Dick felt the way he did and was initially opposed to rejoining the Titans....Wally overlooked one crucial fact: He isn’t Dick.

And more important, his view of the past wasn’t Dick’s view of the past.

Wally was a lot more capable of viewing the Titans as not just a family, but an inherent social life, a hangout, a kind of club....because that’s what it had always been to him.

But he’d never been the leader.

Throughout all their childhoods, the whole time the Titans WERE all of the above, and relatively light-hearted in comparison to their older selves....Dick STILL had the weight of responsibilities that none of the others had by virtue of just...not being the leader. Ultimately, all of their lives were in HIS hands. He was the one calling the shots. The buck stopped with him.

And this is precisely WHY Dick had gotten to the point he had in adulthood. It wasn’t because he’d changed. It wasn’t because he’d stopped figuring out what he needed and how to take care of himself. Its because the position he’d ALWAYS been in as leader....has WEIGHT. That eventually added up more and more and weighed him down. A huge part of the reason Dick had ended up leaving the Titans in the first place, before they disbanded prior to the 1999 revival....is because of the sheer WEIGHT of all the deaths and misfortunes that had befallen the Titans....and how much he and he alone struggled with it in ways the others didn’t....because they didn’t have to. It hadn’t been their plans, their calls, their RESPONSIBILITY to find a way the others could have all made it out alive or at least less traumatized.

So.....of COURSE Dick said no when Wally first proposed restarting the Titans, before Wally defaulted to using his own membership as a lure to get Dick to agree.....because......nothing about the above paragraph had changed, via Wally’s ‘plan.’ It wasn’t because Dick just didn’t KNOW how to be a fully rounded person....it was because nobody was helping him find actual OPTIONS for doing that....that didn’t just double as MORE responsibilities! Because that’s exactly what ended up happening! Dick wound up the leader of the Titans again, just as responsible and just as invested as always.....just like he always knew he would....and also as he knew would happen...Wally ended up quitting not long into it and persuading Jessie Quick to step in as his replacement....aka just one more person for Dick to worry about when it wasn’t like he was going to be worrying any less about Wally, just now he wasn’t going to have Wally there to even POTENTIALLY be able to support him when tragedy inevitably struck because they’re freaking superheroes....and instead he’d just have another person looking to him for the answers but with no reason or chance of being the support Dick could ACTUALLY use at times like that!

Wally’s manipulations circumvented Dick’s opinion that no, actually he knew what was best for him and it wasn’t what Wally was suggesting....without actually accounting for the fact that hey, Dick might actually know that. And in the end, Wally got the result he was after, he got to feel that he’d HELPED his friend....which again, this isn’t WRONG to WANT to....but Dick didn’t...exactly....benefit from this. It wasn’t actually in his best interests ultimately.

I mean...see Donna’s death for details.

And in the aftermath of THAT....Roy essentially did exactly what Wally did....just in REVERSE! Roy got Dick to agree to lead the Outsiders, to shoulder responsibility once again....by promising that Dick WOULDN’T have to view them as family. And did Dick go too far and end up TOO uncaring about their welfare? Yup! No disagreements there! Problem is though....he only ended UP in that situation because yet again a friend thought they KNEW the solution to what Dick needed.....only for Dick to end up essentially punished and further self-blaming....just for doing exactly what Roy had told him TO do, with this particular team. Again - Roy hadn’t EXPECTED Dick to take it this far. But that’s the whole point! Roy had expectations about what Dick would ACTUALLY end up doing, that didn’t match up to the pitch Roy actually gave Dick to GET his agreement.....because Roy all along was of the assumption that by virtue of being Dick Grayson, he wouldn’t be ABLE to avoid connecting with these new teammates and viewing them as family, and thus he’d end up ‘snapping out of it’ with it being the funk he’d been in since Donna’s death.

Roy’s intentions might have been noble, once again.....but his methods stuck to the same pattern of people around Dick believing they knew what he needed or knew who he was or knew what it meant to BE Dick Grayson....better than Dick actually did...particularly when Dick said no, this isn’t what I need or this isn’t a good idea or just...I don’t want to do this.

And in the end....its Dick who ended up paying the price for it, as well as the people who got hurt because of his INTENTIONAL emotional distance.....because the ‘view all surrounding people as new surrogate family’ aspect of the Dick Grayson Experience hadn’t kicked in as Roy thought inevitably would....but the ‘view all this as directly my fault and suffer guilt for it forevermore’ aspect of the Dick Grayson Experience most certainly did! Not at all actually helped along by the fact that like....Roy also expressed frustration with Dick that like.....Dick hadn’t actually responded to Roy’s intended manipulation of his emotions the way Roy had expected him to when he EXPRESSLY TOLD DICK TO BEHAVE THE WAY THAT DICK ULTIMATELY BEHAVED. (Just, he didn’t tell Dick to dial that all the way up to Extra, but given that’s the only setting Dick does ANYTHING at, I feel its a possible outcome Roy should have at least considered. I mean, wasn’t the whole point that you know Dick Grayson better than he knows himself?)

But lo, I am salty.

LMAO, but I mean, you get it right? Obviously, I LIKE Wally and Roy. I LIKE Jason, etc. I’m not saying all of this to be like ugh how dare these characters do all this to Dick....I’m saying it because like.....they all keep falling into the same patterns of making a big fuss and acknowledgment of how much Dick prioritizes being able and free to make his own choices and decide what’s best for him and what HE wants.....

But without ever like....actively asking him AT THE RELEVANT TIME....what he thinks and feels about all this. What he thinks and feels he needs. What he ACTUALLY wants from them, or why he’s ACTUALLY saying no to something and maybe it being for reasons that aren’t just him inherently being stubborn and self-destructive.

And instead just defaulting to falling back on whatever he might have said or expressed in an entirely different context at an entirely different time.....and saying okay, by doing so, we are abiding by his wishes and thus doing what he wants and respecting his right to make his own choices.....

But ONLY when doing all of the above just so happens to align with these other characters then getting to do the thing or take the approach they’re already predisposed towards wanting to take because of their OWN self-interests at the same time.

With this never actually coming into play when respecting Dick’s wishes aligns with them taking actions they DON’T personally want to undertake, because it makes them uncomfy or they think its a bad call, even if it is something that should be his call to make.

Like....the pattern. It very much exists. And abounds. Like I could cite examples allllllllllll the way up to Ric Grayson, where Bruce respected RIC’S wishes to be left alone and not interfere in his life no matter what.....in ways Bruce almost never respects Dick’s actual expressed wish for Bruce to butt out of matters when Bruce is actually quite keen on meddling and would very much like to....

But notice how the other thing about the Ric Grayson storyline is that Ric’s expressed desire to stay the fuck out of vigilantism and superhero work, like.....just so happens to align with Bruce’s longstanding desire for Dick to like...get out of the vigilantism and superhero work? With butting out of Ric’s life and respecting his privacy in ways Dick has to FIGHT him for, like......absolutely the optimal action to take in order to allow this expressed desire of Ric’s to flourish in the ways Bruce always wished would kick in for Dick?

.....just saying. 

The pattern. It abounds.

And the key to breaking any pattern, of course, is to first recognize....and acknowledge....that it exists.

Otherwise you tend to fall into the trap of repeating and perpetuating it over and over without even realizing it, simply because its what’s familiar.

This has been A Post by Me. Thank you and have a nice day. Or don’t. Idk. I’m not the boss of you. Whatever.

[thebiasrekkers]

Star of Fate [Vampire!VIXX]

Plot: The longer you stare into darkness, the more  you realize that something could be staring back. Even more so when that  darkness doesn’t want to be brought into the light and will do anything  to stay that way.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Vampire!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: OT6 VIXX x OC(s)

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Links: FAQ || VIXX Masterlist || Admin L’s AO3 || Admin L’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2042

AO3 | WP

Tag List: @tanithrea​

© thebiasrekkers (Admin L). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Chapter 9- Majesty

All the stars and galaxies address me as your majesty So better say your majesty, I might react erratically Throw you in a fire, purify you I'm the sire, my empire's on the rise

Once again, Lucky woke up in an unfamiliar bed but this one was different than the one she had previously woken up in. It was less fancy but still drastically luxurious than whatever she had known. The bed was still that impossibly soft material that she almost didn’t want to get out of with a few huge pillows. Her green eyes opened, trying to focus without her glasses but she could distinctly tell the color of gold that was looking at her. 

She paused for a moment, letting some of the memories come back to her before drawing in breath and scrambling up. A huge hand slapped itself on her mouth before the scream erupted while the other hand clasped the back of her head to keep her in place. Hands scrabbled at the confines but they were ignored as loud shushes came from the man holding her.

“Hey hey! It’s me, Hyuk… remember? I was the one that saved you from those assholes? Look, if I let you go, will you promise not to scream? Ken and Leo are still sleeping while our master is in a bad mood. Hongbin and Ravi were too shy to let you sleep in their beds so I gave you my bed for the night.. or day.”

Lucky had to think for a moment, the name sounding familiar to her. She finally put a face to the name as she remembered the baby faced being that took care of the two guys that killed the man. She nodded slowly and inch by inch, his hand left her mouth as if he was scared she would scream regardless. Grinning, he quickly plucked up her glasses and gave them to her before leaning in to take a whiff of her hair. 

Alarmed, she reared back away from him. Hyuk raised his hands up defensively and to let her know that he meant no harm, just barely containing himself with her there on the bed. 

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I’m still learning a lot of things when it comes to the whole vampire thing and it doesn’t help that you smell… really good. I don’t know why. Most humans have a stale smell to me. You smell like tangy flowers. It kinda sets my teeth on edge but in a delicious way.”

“I’m sorry.. Did you say vampire?”

The analogy about her smell aside, Lucky’s only thought was the fact that he had mentioned vampires which reminded her of when she was in the police station. So it wasn’t a dream, she realized with cold dread down the entirety of her spine. Hyuk nodded as if he knew what she was thinking, smiling before leaning in closer. She watched as the canines slid out like he was doing nothing but breathing. Before she knew it, she had edged to the side of the bed and when chomped playfully is when she fell right off the thing. Once again, she landed on the floor with a mighty thump and that prompted Hyuk to speed right on over to her. He picked her up, literally right up off the floor like she had weight nothing at all. 

Squirming in his grasp, Lucky tried to get him to put her down since all she needed was a hand to get up. That and she didn’t want to be too close to the fangs that were still extended. A rush and the quick opening of a door could be heard, revealing the droopy eyed vampire she met last night. 

“Oh hey! I--”

“What are you doing Hyuk?! He literally just told us not to feed from her, no matter how good she smells! What’s wrong with you? I can practically hear her screaming!”

Thus started the tug of war between Hyuk and the one whom yelled at Hyuk to stop. He had one of Lucky’s legs in his grasp while Hyuk had her upper body, the both of them bickering back and forth about what was going on. The noise soon grew and attracted the interest of another one. She realized that it was the one she accidentally hit, with the owl eyes. He came around, an annoyed look on his face as his owl-like eyes took in what was going on. 

“You know that Ken and Leo are up now because of you guys..” He leaned against the door frame, lazily eyeballing the area. The vampires both stopped what they were doing, frozen to the spot. Eventually she kicked him in the knee, which prompted him to let her go. The tug of war episode was a welcome distraction despite what all that had transpired but the feeling of danger still didn’t subside, no matter how many times they insisted that she was safe with them. 

And it didn’t help that she was constantly being chomped at or placed into dangerous situations when with them.

After going downstairs to see the rest of them, Lucky could still remember how close they got as she looked at them. She frowned as she got closer to the main floor, however she still stood way off to the side as a precaution against the rest of them. After all, she still didn’t know why she was there and what was going on.   

She walked towards the living area, where there was a huge chair she didn't notice before. Lucky was met at the bottom of the stairs by two vampires that were familiar. They introduced themselves formally as Ravi and Ken. Lucky eyeballed Ken because she still remembered when he went berserk. He gave a wide smile at her, knowing what she was thinking. Ravi leaned over and poked him, shaking his head at the other. Ravi gave her a kind look, as if he was asking for her to forgive them. Lucky looked around the room, thankful that during all that mess–her glasses weren’t broken. 

She noticed two more vampires, one being her savior from the police and the other that she hit. Ravi bent down to her ear, making her jump and introduced them as Hongbin and Leo.

“I believe we can all speak normally with that human around.” Hongbin sneered at them. “I hope the Prince gets rid of her, she’s done enough–”

He didn’t get to finish when Hyuk suddenly appeared in Hongbin’s face, seething. Lucky could see that he was angry as those words and honestly– she was too. She didn’t even want to be in this house with them, knowing she did nothing wrong. Before they could start fighting, a hum could be felt like someone had struck a chord on a guitar. It made the rest of them stand up straight and the hairs on her arms stand up. Leo and Ravi moved to stand next to the chair while the other two, Hongbin and Ken were standing behind her. As Hyuk started to move, his body seemed to go rigid and march directly in front of the chair, kneeling. 

Lucky was about to go to him when another vampire came in. All of them saluted him as he walked in, graceful and menacing. He had almost golden skin, a bit darker than Ravi and his clothes complimented his skin. The black and red robes he had on almost made him look like he was gliding. Once he sat down, he looked at her–and smirked.

Hyuk’s face suddenly fell to the ground, causing him to give a start of surprise.That kind of extreme bow was pushing his face into the floor. He grunted as he tried to resist it but he could not move.

“I–I’m sorry but please don’t kill her! She’s my friend!” Hyuk begged from the floor, unable to get up no matter how hard he tried. “I’ll take full responsibility! Please!”

Lucky could hear Hongbin scoff at his words and before she realized it, she had marched over to Hyuk and tried to pull him back up. She tried with all her might but she couldn’t even get him to budge. A fire burned in her eyes as she glared at them all for not helping, Ravi looking away guiltily but the rest were stone still.

“And what would they do when they know he’s being punished? After all–” The leader stood up from his throne, the robes settling into place as he started to approach her, “Sanghyuk let a human into our world, almost blew the masquerade and he gave her blood to heal.” 

He was directly in front of her face, bending down a bit because of her height. His golden eyes were in slits as he stared at her. Lucky was a bit taken aback by him, the soft voice coming from him but she returned the stare. He stood there for a few minutes, making her eyes water from the staring contest but he stood up and started to walk in a circle around her. His fingers plucked at the shirt she had on, the one Lucky had borrowed from Hyuk right before coming down.

“Lucky for you, there are circumstances that have my attention and you have landed yourself in the thick of it. Nevertheless, Sanghyuk must be punished because these deeds have been made to light.”

“Hyung.. Most of them were not caused by him-” Ravi attempted to say but suddenly he dropped to one knee with the force that would have broken his knees.

“Be glad that I’m not doing more..Wonsik. Not even killing this interesting human.” His hand brushed against her check, moving some of her hair but she didn’t move. He walked to the chair again and sat, his long fingers steeping in thought. A beep broke though the silence and Hongbin grabbed his phone, scrolling through something, Lucky noticed that all of them were suddenly focused on the vampire and when he looked up, he nodded. The leader started to chuckle before turning his attention back to Lucky.

“Well, then. It seems you really are fated to help us.” He remarked, turning his head to look at Ravi. He kept his gaze down and was still kneeling on the floor. The leader looked back and smiled, one that Lucky didn’t trust at all. “I have a proposition for you. You can take it or we will remove your memories properly. The alternative to that is death.”

“How do I know that you’re not going to go back on this? I don’t know you and as far as I knew, you never existed before today.” Lucky scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. He smiled even wider before appearing in front of her face again. He grabbed her by the jaw and lifted her up, her legs dangling. She ended up biting her tongue as that happened, the blood dribbling out of her mouth.

“I don’t have the patience to toy with you as some would. It offends me that you would cast me in the same mold as those other heathens that kidnapped you.” Dropping her, he leaned down to wipe that blood away –still smiling. “Oh yes, I know of everything that has happened to you these last few days. That is why I am offering you this, for protection.”

“You mean for another blood bag?”

“Well I won’t deny that you will have some use to me but that will be explained in the paperwork. As for now, you’re given leave of here. Try not to waste this chance.”

A pair of arms wrapped themselves gently around her and Lucky could feel herself becoming sleepy. She could hear talking but the muffled sound was growing dim along with her vision. As she succumbed to the darkness and was carried out by Ravi with Ken following, Hyuk popped up and thanked the leader, scurrying out. 

Leo came up to him as well as Hongbin with concern in their eyes. He waved them off and soon was left alone in the room. He reached up and licked the blood off his hand, almost shivering as he did so. He had to use all his willpower not to give chase but instead he sat down, looking at his hand in wonder.

“Hakyeon, what have you gotten into this time?”