#FIT Stock Analysis

[oakgreenoak]

Something I've always found kinda interesting about Red and Green in gameverse is how they turn some of the Stock Shōnen Protagonist/Rival tropes on their heads.

This is really long character analysis of these two and various media counterparts of theirs, so I'm gonna stick it under a cut.

In some ways they fit their roles quite well - aside from the obvious colour associations, you have Red as the hero whose sense of justice is stronger than his sense of self-preservation, and you have Green as the privileged rival who cares about beating Red above all else.

But, if you look at it another way - Green's got the light spiky hair, the hot-headed and boisterous personality, the drive to Get Better And Win. He's designed to read as really open and chipper, yet snarky. Sure, he isn't dumb, but he's arrogant, and he's got something of a one-track mind; the guy finds himself in the middle of a hostage situation because he's just that hellbent on fighting his rival, and does not seem to be thinking about anything else. He's also got a motivation - given how the Professor talks to him in the championship room and supplementary material like his Generations appearance, it's not a stretch to think the reason he's so driven to Get Better And Win is to prove himself to his grandfather. It's shown in later games and supplementary works that he's become somewhat of a mentor as he got older and wiser.

Red, on the other hand, is a quiet loner whose only motivation seems to be to get stronger for the sake of getting stronger. He's level-headed and dark haired, his cap rounding off his edges and obscuring his face. He's heroic, but not really sociable, as evidenced by the fact he spends the Johto games alone on a mountain without having told anyone where he went. He seems isolated in a way that later games' protagonists really don't. He may have always been a step behind Green, but he's always better.

Equally fascinating to me is how other adaptations have changed the base designs around and rewritten personalities to suit different purposes, while still being visually recognisable as counterparts to their game-selves.

For example: Red and Green's counterparts in Special slot WAY more neatly into their stock shōnen roles, with Red as the boisterous hero and Green as the broody rival, and it's reflected in their new designs.

Red's hair becomes spiky to reflect his more excitable nature. His hat, in turn, never obscures his face; it's always either tilted back to accommodate his fringe or turned backwards. Green's hair, on the other hand, is not quite as spiked upwards and instead falls into his face, frequently obscuring his far eye in the same way game!Red's hat does.

And then, of course, the anime balanced them in a totally different direction.

Instead of scrapping Green's personality wholecloth, it's become exaggerated in Gary. He's not the broody antihero rival, he's the arrogant, privileged, better-than-you rival. He's always ten steps ahead of Ash, always pisses him off, and is ALWAYS better until the end of his run. The anime also emphasises his intelligence far more, with him doing things like rattling off dex info and the speed of light in mph off the top of his head, to further contrast him with Ash.

Ash, who is of course THE shōnen protagonist. He's dumb, but determined, and always ready to help people in need. Unlike game!Red, the power of friendship (with more than just pokémon) is central to him; any given season of the show is defined as much if not moreso by his travelling companions and interpersonal relationships as it is by whatever he's actually doing.

It's funny to me, though, how most adaptations seem to find the fact that gameverse Red and Green have swapped some stock roles as something to fix. Even Origins, which is probably the closest a high-profile adaption has come to game-accurate, made its version of Red louder and more standard-hero-esque.

I'm not knocking any of these things, of course, just observing. I adore both Special and anipoke. I just think that the way the game characters are written could lead to some interesting dynamics were it to be explored more.

[hazel-coryl]

anyways here's an over analysis of the guns of love bullet.

Starting with the GOAT, Koharu.

Despite it being the main character Koharu's weapon was the hardest to pin down. This is solely because there's like 50 models of Glock pistols. And this is very clearly a Glock, but which Glock? Its clearly not a subcompact, leaving the full-sized and compact models. Based on the placement of the slot in the lower frame, just below the front sight, we can discount the full-sized pistols, leaving only the compact. From there we can use the number of pins in the lower receiver, shape of the slide and the placement of the slots on the slide to narrow it down to the Glock 23 and 19, generation 3.

Its a little hard to pin down the exact make since a lot of the Glock series look almost identical. The drawings (esp early on) aren't always consistent, which is understandable given the level of detail. The 23 is a slightly more accurate match, however the detail is small, simply the shape of the front and rear sights. The Glock 23 is a compact pistol chambered in .40 S&W, the pistol is almost identical with the Glock 19 save for the aforementioned difference in the shape of the sights. The Glock 19 is likewise a compact pistol but it is chambered in 9x19mm. The Glock 19 is much more popular and widely issued and is chambered in the world's most common pistol cartridge. It is for these reasons it would make more sense for it to be a Glock 19, however the visuals lean towards the more uncommon Glock 23. Glocks, and especially the Glock 19 is kind of a "default gun", widely issued by police and military forces and popular in the civilian market it lacks an identity in its ubiquity. Therefore I think its very fitting for Koharu who is a recently born cupid and hasn't had the opportunity to carve her own identity as a cupid.

Next, we have this image from Chapter 7. She hasn't used this rifle yet, so its probably not canon but whatever. This one is pretty easy, this is a M24 Sniper Weapon System. The M24 is derived from the popular Remington Model 700 rifle by the US Army. Its identifiable by its adjustable butt stock and bipod. Somewhat interestingly its fitted here with a suppressor, which would suggest a later variant, however the pictured rifle has an original model stock.

Now, Kanna.

This was one of the easiest, this is a Milkor M32A1 Multiple Grenade Launcher. It differs externally from the earlier M32 by its shortened barrel. The M32A1 fires 40x46mm grenades from a six-round revolving cylinder. The M32A1 can fire a wealth of specialized ammunition types, however we've only seen what I believe to be high explosive so far. Somewhat notably the reflex sight that the M32A1 comes standard with is deleted. Perhaps this explains her lack of accuracy. In addition to launched grenades Kanna uses hand grenades.

Helpfully one of these comes with a label! This is clearly based on the M67 hand grenade, the other is a M84 stun grenade. Both are American models.

Lastly in the chapter 8 cover we see her with some make of landmine. There's a lot of these and they aren't that well documented from what I could find. Its mildly reminiscent of a soviet TM-62, however the vertical ribs along the rim suggest some manner of Italian made model. Whatever it is, based on its size its probably an anti-tank landmine.

Kanna has an obvious bias toward explosives, at first this clashes with her somewhat reserved personality. However there are some angles where it makes sense. Explosives tend to get the job quickly, which favors her laziness. There is also the notable component that all of these weapons possess the capability to fight an opponent without direct confrontation.

Ena.

Ena is... Kind of boring, weapon wise. This is a M4A1, one of the many, many makes and models of the M4/AR15/M16 family. Together these represent the 2nd most produced rifle in the world, just below the omnipresent AK family. The AR15 is known for its modularity and massive potential for personalization. The rifle, or carbine more accurately, is chambered in 5.56x45mm. This intermediate rifle cartridge is standard across NATO nations. If you have a keen eye "556" is a number that comes up as an easter egg throughout love bullet. Ena's M4 is fitted with a KAC vertical foregrip and ACOG TA31 assault scope. This set of attachments play towards the M4's strengths, allowing it to reach out to its maximum effective range with the scope while preserving its CCQ capabilities. In short, its versatile and utilitarian, and while we haven't gotten to know Ena that well, this seems to pair well with her personality. And for why I said it was kind of boring, these are not unique accessories by any means, in fact there are probably hundreds of photos of US soldiers with this exact set up.

Last and certainly not least is Chiyo!

This one was difficult, but I'm pretty certain this is a MAC M10, as opposed to the smaller M11. Both are nearly identical with only size and a few minor details being different. The M10 comes in two variants, one chambered in .45 caliber and the other chambered in 9mm. Chiyo's weapons posses features of both the .45 and 9mm models, so who's to say. Next to Kanna, Chiyo might have the most unique loadout. The M10, more commonly known as the "MAC-10" is a very popular weapon in action movies and video games. Because its possible to be held with one hand and its high rate of fire the weapon comes off as very cool. Its interesting to note in reality the M10 was made to be fitted with a large suppressor and nylon foregrips as a kind of commando weapon. Chiyo fits none of these and with her dual wielding style is clearly playing into the movie hero image.

Chapter 9 gives us this striking image. She's kitted out with a M60A1 and an RPG-7. The M60 is a General Purpose Machinegun chambered in 7.62x51mm, NATO's full sized rifle cartridge. It became famous and almost indictive of, the Vietnam war and also in movies like Rambo. The RPG is the first non-us weapon we see the girls use. Likewise it also made its debut in the Vietnam war, although the RPG's iconic image extends well beyond that conflict. Because of the heart shapeification of the weapons its hard to say what rocket its using, but its likely PG-7 or PG-7M. Both of these weapons play well into Chiyo's action hero trappings while also giving a mercenary impression.

As a whole, she breaks from the others as the M10's are not standard issue with the US military. I think that fits with her independent attitude. Which brings up an interesting throughline, outside of Chiyo all the other girls field weapons that are standard in the US military or police forces. There also appears to be a trend towards weapons that were popular in the Gulf and Afghanistan wars. Whether this trend reflects only Inee's personal preferences or something deeper is currently mysterious, but may remain something to watch as chapters come out.

Thanks for reading this far.

[sol-insidious]

Bringing my two cents to the (in)famous Luke "Chanel Boots" Skywalker joke because I actually have weird thoughts about Luke and fashion tropes that go beyond haha gay blonde twink like luxury brand.

Thinking about Luke's characterization and fashion as a narrative device. The significance of Luke leaving Tatooine with literally nothing but the clothes on his back and donning Corellian Bloodstripes at the end of A New Hope.

Thinking about Luke's wardrobe gradually transitioning from lighter colors to black throughout Episodes IV-VI.

Thinking about the sheer intentionality of Luke having an all-black wardrobe in Return of The Jedi onwards. Is it to honor his father? To mourn him? To remind himself of who he could be and who he already is? All of the above? Thinking about the deliberate asymmetry of Luke's single black glove. Thinking about the white flap on his chest.

Thinking about Padmé and how she was molded into fashion since birth, the extravagance of her outfits and makeup as an Amidala. Thinking about how Luke seems to mirror her regal anonymity with his cloaked grim reaper fit. Thinking about Luke's disconnected relationship with his late mother and wondering if he ever felt the same level of restrictive empowerment she did when she wore her gowns.

Thinking about the nuances of queer fashion and how it can equally be as empowering and restrictive to the wearer.

Thinking about the white and orange prison uniforms in Andor and the colors of the Rebel Alliance.

Thinking about my old Modernist Literature professor who wrote her thesis on the colors of stockings in D.H. Lawrence's fiction and how women characters chose to wear bright stockings under their long, billowing skirts that no-one else but themselves could see. Thinking about the color pink in Legally Blonde. Thinking about reading dress and fashion as a legitimate pathway to literary analysis. Thinking about the utter significance of Luke's entire outfit. All of his outfits.

Thinking about those damn Chanel Boots.

[cadybear420]

Evie's Class Schedule for the OG HSS Trilogy school year! With Headcanons and Meta below the cut!

Yet another set of details that working on the HSS Adaptation Fic has helped me think more deeply about hehe <3

Tags for those who may be interested because I'm excited:

@lover-also-fighter-also | @loreofyore | @rjschoicesstuff |

@aria-ashryver | @choicesmc | @where-the-wind-travels |

@zhoumeyourlove | @storyofmychoices | @rosesnink |

@dutifullynuttywitch | @aces-and-angels | @pansexy-choices-the-sequal |

@somerandomjewelleryonthefloor | @peonyblossom |

Meta Details:

I was initially unsure what course/subject Ms. Maddox was teaching in the OG trilogy, since I don't think it's ever explicitly confirmed. The background used is clearly for an English/Writing classroom (albeit it is technically a very stock background, but still), but there's also a later scene where Evie accidentally takes Brian's Math textbook during homeroom. But Ms. Maddox also gave me History teacher vibes at first for some reason.

The English classroom background won in the end, especially since Evie would be taking Algebra Honors while Brian would definitely think that that's for "nerds". I figure Evie accidentally taking Brian's Math textbook is something that could still happen in an English class.

In Book 2, it's confirmed that Gym is MC's last class of the day.

In Book 3, when MC and friends hang out with some Hearst kids at lunch, it's mentioned that both Emma and Cameron take a Creative Writing course. Evie loves Creative Writing too for sure, so there was no way I was passing up that opportunity.

As I'll mention in the next section, one of the books Evie reads in English 10 is Julius Caesar. I picked all of those books because they were what I read in my English 10 class, but Julius Caesar is also fitting considering the Book 2 conflict with Isa taking over, which I think would be happening a few months after the Julius Caesar unit. Evie, being freshly familiar with the play and also being a huge Mean Girls fan, will absolutely make a lot of "We should totally just stab Isa!" jokes to herself in Book 2.

All teachers' names besides Diana Maddox and Ricky Burke are of course made up rather than from the story. Same with all the room numbers besides 225B.

A moment I may include in the first chapter of the Adaptation Fic is, when Evie is in her Gym class, Coach Burke reveals that in 5th period Julian told him about the race that they did with Caleb and Brian at lunch (as per the jock minigame in canon) and Evie's performance in it, and thus he encourages her to try out for the team.

Headcanons:

Evie is quite good at Math and Science subjects. They're usually her favorite subjects, and I say usually because thanks to Creative Writing, Math and Science hold the second place spot this year. Scott is a mechanical engineer, so he was able to give Evie a bit of a jump-start in those subjects. He of course never pushed Evie to pursue those kinds of fields, and Evie does genuinely enjoy Math and Science as a result of how he taught her. Especially Science, it's cool to see how things work.

History is probably Evie's least favorite subject genre. The topics are very hit-or-miss, and a lot of the time it can feels like it's just learning a bunch of facts, unlike in Math and Science where there was also a sense of *how* things worked. So unless those facts are about interesting things... it can be kind of a drag for her. Berry's History classes, however, would try to put more of an emphasis on analyzing the history facts and timelines rather than just memorizing a bunch of facts-- which Evie would still struggle with, but would ultimately feel more engaged by.

Evie is neutral to English, probably. She loves reading, but the actual books themselves can be hit-or-miss for her. And even when they are hits, it can sometimes be difficult for her to keep up with assigned reading. Literary/textual analysis is also an area that is new to her when she starts high school, but in 10th grade she starts to become increasingly more proficient at it.

The books Evie will read in English 10 at Berry are: Sophocles's Oedipus Rex, Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Elie Weisel's Night, Alexander Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, and Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns. None of them become major favorites of hers (except maybe TSS), but she does consider them all well-done for what they are, as well as important to her for kicking off her skill in textual analysis.

Evie enjoys stuff like mile runs and warm-up runs in Phys-Ed, but at the same time she takes running very seriously and so she tends to get a bit more nervous about them than she probably needs to. Ever since 9th grade, she'd always be keeping track of her times and trying to improve on them.

The units Evie has in Phys-Ed this year are: Tennis, Soccer, Volleyball, Flag Football, Badminton, Basketball, Softball, Field/Street Hockey, Swimming, and Track. Evie of course excels at Flag Football, Basketball, Field/Street Hockey, and Track. She's pretty good at Softball and it helps kick off her interest in joining the Baseball team later in the spring. Badminton is fun but frustrating. Soccer is decent. She could be better at Volleyball. She has a lot of trouble with Swimming.

Creative Writing is one of Evie's favorites of all time. She's loved writing, coming up with her own stories and characters, playing imaginary games, playing dolls, etc. ever since she was a little kid. There was this one time in second grade where she was allowed to join a middle school level Creative Writing course, and it was great until the very kind teacher retired a month later and the school ended up dropping the course entirely. Evie was an uncontrollable sobbing mess that entire night.

[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Whole Cake Island (part 12)

Lawlu in Whole Cake Island? There is none! Actually... do we really need Law to be present to analyze it, come to think of it? Luffy is really all we need; to watch his behaviour, things he says, his determination, to guess how Law's influence would show and how partying ways with him (even if temporarily) would impact Luffy.

This is the Alice in Wonderland Arc of One Piece, which means Luffy's main struggle will be to face himself, his own weakness, fears, and maybe even his own self-hatred. Which is why this time it won't be the usual scrutinizing analysis of frame by frame, but instead I will take a deep-dive into Luffy's mind. Are you ready? :D

Luffy starts Whole Cake Island arc in a rush. Because why wouldn't he feel in a rush? There's a wedding to stop! There's a chance they won't make it in time, after all. But... seeing how Zou ended, there's probably one more reason why Luffy is so irritated and wants to get things done as fast as possible... there will be someone waiting for him in Wano, alongside the rest of Luffy's own crew. Luffy could tolerate being seperated from his own crew for two years, but this two weeks trip to Whole Cake Island seems like a torture to him. What changed exactly between timeskip and now? Oh, right, Law got added into the picture ;)

"See? She didn't have any problem with my yeeting!" and I wish he could add "Law also had no trouble after I yeeted us in Dressrosa, you should be more hardboiled like him!", because I swear, this feels like the thing he actually means. And he is right, Law hated being yeeted, but he dealed with it just fine in the end, keeping his clear mind and sense of direction intact.

And then, out of nowhere, Luffy gains an interest in cooking. Luffy, of all people! The very same Luffy who thought a musician is more essential on the crew than a cook!

He even compares Nami's nutritional knowledge to a doctor instead of a cook. For Luffy, a cook is just someone who makes your food look and taste extra great, but it's not neccessary for a kid who grew up in a jungle eating everything the way it comes or simply by roasting it over a fire. So why is he suddenly so interested in cooking?? Is he missing Sanji that much? Is he trying to make his crew miss Sanji so the reunion is more emotional? Good guesses, but they have one flaw: they don't take Luffy's personality enough into account.

Back in East Blue, Luffy agreed to recruit a cook before a musician only because his crew wanted one and also because he's a freaking glutton.

"You guys are really rude, I made this food for you!" now that doesn't fit with Luffy's personality of "I want to eat all the meat". Suddenly, it's for them, hm?

Then he tries his own "kitchen sink curry", spits it out, shouts that's it's inedible and flips the table! Why so mad? Oh yeah, because as we learn soon after, he tried cooking multiple times and it's still something that can't be eaten. He tried so many times that he wasted a stock of food they had that was supposed to last them for a week, for all of them! And it's all gone in one day.

Luffy's frustration is understandable then, because this is what he considers to be "his best attempt". As we learn from SBS, Luffy's best dish is just a bowl of meat (in other words: pieces of meat put in a bowl lol), which means he would not prepare "curry" or any sort of exquisite dish for himself. He indeed did this dish with others in mind. He would be more likely to just roast whatever he caught and shove it towards them, asking "you want some?", if it was only about him.

Despite his constant failures, he's still not getting discouraged and wants to learn how to cook edible things for people to enjoy. Nami though stops him and tells him "to never go into the kitchen again", ouch. They have been starving for days as the result of Luffy's "cooking attempts" and Luffy almost lost his life as the result (eating poisonous skin of a fish they finally caught), so her reaction is understandable. But this should make us realize that Luffy, thanks to this whole (mis)adventure, understands Sanji better without even realizing it. After all, Sanji was also told to "never cook again" by his father.

But I think this adventure has one more meaning. Whole Cake Island is basically a tale about the good and bad sides of food industry, but also how food creates connections between people. And I think XxXholic covered the latter part better than I could ever put in words, so forgive me for the unexpected crossover here. You don't need to know XxXholic, its plot or characters to be able to follow the quotes, they also don't spoil anything from the plot, so don't worry. We're just following one of the many, many side characters there.

First of all, if you want to repay a debt or show your gratitude, the best way is to offer food and good drink. And the best way to do it, is to offer stuff you cooked yourself, because they require your own time and effort, and include your feelings (of gratitude and love) for the person you cooked it for. If someone does you a favour, it's a good idea to say "thanks" by preparing a dish they like, for example.

"I would like to cook with you and then eat it together. And then I would really like to know more about you. And for you to learn about me, as well" says the protagonist to one of his clients. Cooking together is a big thing because it creates an equal, mutual bond: you get to know me, I get to know you, and we can both try to become better at cooking together, but also better people for each other as well. Because by cooking we learn more about what the other person likes and dislikes, but also about their personality: their usual way of problem solving, about their patience, flexibility, stubborness, ability to learn etc. Your prefered way of cooking can also reflect your personality this way and you try to offer your best through a dish you put a lot of effort to make, for someone to enjoy.

You can learn a lot about yourself as well through cooking. If you compare your own cooking to someone else's, you can realize your own personality traits you wished you would have never noticed (for example impatience, like Luffy flipping the table in anger: even Nami called him out on it, Sanji would not approve of that action!). You might also realize that someone preparing food for you did it with lots of feelings, of kindness and love, and that's why that food tastes good. And if in comparison your own food is terrible, bland, without flavour or personality, it just shows you don't really share your own love with the world through the act of cooking. In Luffy's case up there, his food was so terrible (though definitely full of his personality lol) despite him putting in his best effort and feelings. How did it make him feel about himself? Perhaps like he has nothing good to offer to people he loves? But his final reaction is always this: try to be better and do better!

Luffy offering his failed attempts to his crew serves the same purpose: he's offering them what he has, even if the result is disgusting. But this is the kind of person Luffy is at the moment and he has nothing better to offer!

The sidestory in XxXholic has a happy ending, the struggle continues on and the woman's significant other supports her efforts and says they will wait for as long as it takes. Now, what does that have to do with One Piece? The reason this woman couldn't cook something that would taste good wasn't because she's clumsy, or didn't put any effort in or lacked knowledge (she actually studied cooking like it's an university subject, it clearly mattered a lot to her!).

What she lacked in the end was love, not for others, but for herself. She hated herself so much that she believed anything she would do would turn out bad (which is exactly what happened over and over), almost like she was subconsciously self-sabotaging her own efforts. And since she didn't have love for herself she had nothing to give to others either, despite caring for them and being so grateful to people who loved her the way she is, imperfect, disbelieving in her own worth, broken. She just didn't feel like she has anything to offer to all the great people around her.

Sounds familiar?

"What can you do?" Arlong asks Luffy. "You can't do anything, you're a disgrace as a captain". And Luffy proceeds to say he has great people who support him (which means he does not think of himself as great, he knows he lacks in so many ways), but there is one, just one thing he can do for them back: it's to beat up people like Arlong.

And yet despite that, in Whole Cake Island, Luffy attempts to do what he literally can't do: to cook. He knows he can't do it, but he tries it anyway, knowing very well what the end result will be. It's not that he lost his mind. We mustn't forget why he's doing a stealthy mission on WCI. It's exactly because he can't do what he usually does: beat up Big Mom. He promised he won't do it. But what *can* he do then? It's his struggle to become better and get out of his comfort zone, and he starts that from attempting cooking. It won't be the first or last time that he will fight against himself in this arc, even denying things he had the most confidence in. This is the arc in which Luffy loses the sight of what he can and can't do, and needs to come up with a new answer or rediscover the one he already had all along. This is Luffy in a crisis.

Now is that related to Luffy being seperated from Law and dealing badly with it? Or Luffy realizing how much he knows Law has faith in him and he wants to live up to it? Because like we established before, Luffy is doing this stealthy attempt only for the sake of his alliance with Law, he would not bother usually and would just destroy Big Mom because she's in his way. I can only imagine Luffy's inner struggle when he tries to come up with a new solution here but can't get any, nothing works out if he just can't beat up the bad guy and move on. Luffy's later refusal to eat anything that isn't Sanji's cooking, not even the syrup rain, must reflect how Luffy feels about himself in this moment: he feels pathetic and useless and he must hate himself for it.

There's one more angle to it. Luffy suspiciously wants to cook as fast as they're seperated from Law. He thinks nutritional knowledge is something a doctor does and he's impressed with it. Law is a doctor. It's not a stretch to think that Luffy wants to learn something new to impress his favourite person upon return. It's highly likely he wants to cook for Law as well (and he's using his crew for taste-testing for now), because he has feelings of love and gratitude he wants to convey to him, but he doesn't know how to do it. But Luffy always had Sanji who used his cooking exactly for that: to show his feelings of love for people (and was very vocal about it!). Luffy is just trying to do the same, but he realized he can't do it no matter what. By the end of the arc he comes back to terms with himself and finds the old truth again: he will leave the cooking to Sanji and rely on his crew. He can try to be a better person in other ways, but he will keep on searching for a way to show love and gratitude to them.

And we will not talk about Luffy suddenly remembering people smooch each other and talking about it in context of Sanji's wedding, uhum. If that's on his mind all of a sudden when it wasn't even once for last 80 volumes, then you can guess why it suddenly would be. People who love and care for each other smooch, so maybe he was considering... things...

Another odd thing Luffy does, which is to check on the map and comments, frowning "it's weird". He has a point, because we learn later it was a deliberate trap. But he's paying attention here because he tries to be useful and does things he usually wouldn't be doing. Just like with cooking.

Same here. It's probably the first moment in which Luffy realizes that having a longterm plan would be actually a good thing. Yeah, Luffy of all people. That's because he must be thinking "if it was Law, he would definitely have one". I feel like other people were pointing it out to Luffy before, but it's the first time he actually shows that he kinda cares and isn't answering with "I'm just here for the adventure. And become a king of the pirates, no plans included!".

Look here. This is Luffy in a crisis. "I have to get back and I'll destroy everything in my way if I have to!" Not only he's not supposed to destroy everything or beat up Big Mom, which he points out a moment later, but Luffy is clear here, he made his decision: if he can't go back, he will simply get rid of everything on his way. Getting back is the most important thing, everything else be damned.

Except... are we really talking about Sanji here? Get back where, Luffy? To Wano perhaps, where your crew and Law will be waiting?

"I'm not going to die in a place like this!!", "I made him a promise, but it's not here!!". I'm just saying, this applies both to Sanji and the promise Luffy made "to meet up in Wano". And if he wants to get back no matter what, it's because he knows he can't die here, he can't force a certain someone to go through a big loss again. He would rather tear off his arms than not return at all and break his promise.

And we get Sanji with his "I didn't tell you to wait..." and Luffy just laughs in reply. This particular laugh he used only once before, btw, and I don't recall anywhere else:

When he was telling Zoro how much he's worrying about Sanji. Because why wouldn't Luffy know that Zoro and Sanji are the most important people for each other? Zoro is his best friend and his first crewmate, Luffy just knows what's in his heart, the same way that Zoro probably knows who is so important for Luffy as well.

Do you still think Luffy-Sanji scene was *only* about Luffy and Sanji? That the whole promise talk was only about Sanji? And not two particular people waiting for both of them in Wano? It was always about both reasons.

Luffy says he can't be the king of the pirates without Sanji. And demands that Sanji says how he really feels (which is "to go back on Sunny" ❤). Imagine if Luffy said both of those lines to Usopp in Water 7. Maybe a lot of the conflict could have been avoided. Especially if Luffy would also follow his very own advice, because he was not saying his true feelings in the quarrel with Usopp. What changed since Water 7 in Luffy? A lot, actually. Ace, timeskip, Dressrosa, Law... All those things are huge milestones in Luffy's development. But there's also the promise he made. He promised Zoro his crew to bring Sanji back. And that promise also changed everything.

WCI is also the first arc in which Luffy says he is ready to drop everything, even his own dream, and go save whoever needs to be saved for his crew's sake. It's very ironic how in this scene he also needs to struggle against himself, this time with his enormous hunger, that seems to sabotage his ironclad determination. For once Luffy doesn't do things for food and that despite the whole arc being exactly about food. That's how serious he is.

Now we have to talk about the alliance with Bege. Here is Luffy's initial reaction: "what an awful person", "Bege is gonna get it!". He does not like Bege at all, he also wants to punch him for what Bege did to Pekoms. In other words, Luffy doesn't think Bege is a good person, at all.

But just a moment later, when Jimbei tells him "you should work together with Bege", Luffy changes his mind immediately. He's all up for this alliance. His crew, that has been with Luffy the longest (Nami and Sanji) can't believe their ears. What an interesting change, isn't it? Like I argued at the beginning of this post, Luffy has to do things differently this time instead of doing what he usually does. The problem is, he's not good at anything else than "beating the main bad guy". That's why in this case he's determined to do something he would usually never do. And forgive me for the callback again to XxXholic, because I can't resist:

Luffy has the same idea as the protagonist here. "This is all I can do", and "if this person was with me, they would be able to find a better way". In other words, Luffy agreed to this alliance because he thinks this is something Law would do as well. Luffy is constantly wondering in Whole Cake Island how Law would handle the situation and he knows he can't come even close to his level, but at least he will try to follow in his footsteps.

Of course Luffy wants at first to punch Bege for Pekoms. He's still trying to make this alliance a friendship, and if he hits Bege then they will be even, so they can try becoming friends. That's basically the idea.

But he doesn't get to do that and in the end, Luffy agrees to alliance based on "common goal" or "allignment of interest". He did not become friends with Bege in the process and didn't make things even between them. This proves Luffy knows what an alliance is and it's not friendship. I wouldn't say this means Luffy finally learned what an actual alliance is (though it's tempting, ngl). I would rather say he always knew that, but he chose to make it a point that whatever he has with Law, is friendship firstmost, alliance second.

And here is Luffy listening to Bege's plan. He's trying, okay. Not his fault he's constantly getting distracted, sidetracked and overfocused on making a silly entrance party trick (jumping out of the wedding cake). Bege is just not Law, and Luffy's tiktok's level span of attention is struggling here, heh. Also please notice Luffy's unusual focus on the smooching lol.

Oh, so that's Luffy's idea for the wedding surprise. He just wanted to do ninja's shadow clonining trick, definitely inspired by Raizou's show in Zou.

Coincidentally, that's the technique that was Law's request and made Law so damn impressed. Yeah, this is for sure a coincidence, that Luffy chose to do it like that, even though he didn't really have to have multiple copies of himself here to make it work. I bet he just thought "if Law would be here, that would impress him, I'm sure!" and I bet he's looking forward to telling him all about this adventure later on and seeing his face.

But it was essenstial for his plan to create chaos! He didn't do it just for fun! Are you sure? Because it was Brook who hid himself in the midst and did the deed with Mother Carmel's photo frame, and Luffy did not tell him to do this. Luffy simply wanted to be cool, okay, he didn't think that far ahead. He was supposed to cause chaos, he delivered.

And in his fight with Katakuri, Luffy is the one who has to have faith. Law had his faith moment in Dressrosa, now it's Luffy's turn.

Luffy found his answer about what he can do and how to become a better person for someone. It's to master his observation haki. Which, coincidentally, is Law's forte.

Luffy's curious, very strict words to Jimbei. "Don't let even death stop you, we'll be waiting in Wano!" It's basically Luffy's own promise he made before leaving Zou, just said in more deadly serious manner. That's because his experience in Whole Cake Island made him realize it himself: he will go back to Wano and not even death can stop him from achieving that. Because he promised that to Law people.

I'm sure for Law this would be indeed the most important thing, not to lose anyone ever again, especially Luffy who he (miraculously) managed to save all the way back in Marineford. I don't know how Luffy knows this or if he knows at all about Law's deepest fear, but he's determined not to die on him, that's for sure.

This is also the first big seperation for Luffy and Law. Luffy deals with it, treating everything like an adventure to tell Law later so it feels like Law is there with him even though he's not. But also treats it like a challenge, to become a better and stronger person so he won't disappoint him.

Still convinced there was no Lawlu in WCI? Oh well, if that's the case then all I can say is: I tried my best :D

If anyone wants to read all the parts of this series without going to my masterpost, then just click "love is a hurricane" tag :3

[hirocimacruiser]

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[begrudging-fudanshi]

I'm not sure where I saw it but there are a few references to classes and teachers (like in the character book where they have subjects they're best and worst at, in a few chapters where they reference "class/es", and in an interview with satoru nii, I think, though I can't find it) – the Reddit pinned post for the manga is ood for the interview where they talked about it. In the interview, it sounded like they said it was just a pragmatic thing; the story follows the action, so there's not really any need to flesh out the school side of Furin, but that could have just been a deliberate obfuscation. I hadn't really thought about it (generally, I don't care to, because that side of fandom can get really condescending and form echo chambers of "no one else is thinking about this right or as much as us") but I found your thoughts interesting to read and thought you might have wanted to know about the teacher thing, because even if teachers are there, they haven't been included in the main story at all, and don't seem to be trying to teach them anything beyond the academic curriculum.

Thanks! I had seen that, but I try to mainly base my analysis on what's in the text itself ("the author is dead" and all that). However, I appreciate the input and I actually do have some related thoughts on this.

By the way, if you or anyone else seeing this post can tell me any specific chapters where the Furin kids talk about school stuff, please share! I totally missed any mentions of that, so my views below are all based on the assumption that the kids never mention anything school related.

A few messy thoughts:

I accept that the Furin kids do go to class, but to your point, their teachers seem ineffectual at best (and, as I'll get to later, extremely trusting). I figure that anyone who'd teach at a delinquent school notorious for year-round fighting is probably not great at their job. Before Bofurin, I imagine the teachers had all given up any hope of teaching anything and just tried to survive. Ever since Umemiya took over, they've probably been so happy to finally have some peace that they just let him and the other kids do whatever they want.

While I try not to speculate too much about authorial intent, it often feels to me like Nii has challenged himself to take as many stock tropes as he can and to use them as effectively as possible (or maybe he's just a really good writer using a lot of stock tropes lol). For example, Sakura is a classic tsundere, but it's actually rationalized in a really compelling way by his characterization. Likewise, WBK also takes the trope of invisible teachers and actually fits it into the broader themes of the story (as previously discussed in the post you're referencing).

I kinda wonder if Nii was forced to show the protagonists going to high school in order to be published, and thus chose to do it in the most cursory way possible. It kinda feels like the story was meant to be told with a cast of young adults, but maybe Nii or the publisher felt like it'd sell better with teenage protagonists in a school setting. I also suspect it would be controversial (and understandably so) to publish a series aimed at teenagers where the teenage protagonists choose not to attend high school, so I've thought the whole invisible teachers approach could be a workaround for that.

That said, the absence of teachers (and any other responsible adults) just feels so conspicuous that it's hard to write it off as purely pragmatic. Plenty of series have seemingly nonexistent teachers, but they usually avoid showing kids in settings where teachers would appear. WBK could have easily done that (e.g. by giving Bofurin an HQ near the school where they spend all their time), but instead it practically goes out of its way to rub the school setting in your face. For that matter, Nii also could have chosen a different setting where kids wouldn't have to attend school at all, but he explicitly chose to set WBK in what is very clearly present-day Japan. I don't think it's worthwhile to speculate about what Nii "really meant" by this (or if he really meant anything at all), but from an analysis point of view, this is just too conspicuous for me to ignore.

A theme in WBK that I'd like to explore in-depth at some point is trust—namely, how WBK challenges us to imagine trusting these so-called delinquents who are rejected everywhere else and to imagine that they might make their world a better place of their own accord. The absence of visible teachers really highlights this trust. The kids have been given free reign of the school to do whatever they please but, despite adult authority figures being functionally nonexistent, they've still managed to turn it into a better place.

Lastly, while I have to admit I probably fall closer to that "no one else is thinking about this right or as much as us" side of fandom than not, let me just say: fuck anyone who's condescending about it. I personally enjoy deeper media analysis and am trying to cultivate more of it around WBK in my own way, but everyone is allowed to engage with media how they want. The angle I'm trying to take is more "Hey, here's this neat thing I noticed!" as opposed to "You're enjoying this wrong." and I hope that others will do the same.

[divorceblogger]

horrible when people jump on a post to defend popular fandom expressions that are hollow and eliminate nuance by pigeonholing stories into ill-fitting narratives. some of these phrases have done nothing for serious media analysis - they’re just deployed as stock analysis in place of complicated examinations of the text. let them go.

[preciouslandmermaid]

like dead-eyed sharks, Gotham watches (battinson x f!reader)

Note: This takes place pre-movie and you can find the rest of this series. (Part 1 here) (part 2 here)

Safety notes/Warnings: The Kinktober prompt was "blood kink/i just wanna see a man all beaten up and bloody" I have never written for that before and honestly...i think this fic got like away from me tbh. so im sorry if this isn't want u wanted lmao

Additional notes: No use of Y/N. established childhood friends with Bruce. confessions. secret identity revealed. canon-violence. cursing/explicit language. explicit consent during sexual content. smut. no physical descriptors are used for the reader. (and yes, dr. crane is absolutely cillian murphy/nolanverse dr. crane sue me)

prompt: blood kink pairing: battison/f!reader | warnings: explicit sexual content/above notes. bonus: on ao3, i split it into two chapters for ease of reading. the first half is plot, the second half is smut. ;) enjoy.

( read on ao3 ) || kinktober list

You lean on the railing of your small balcony and watch the streaks of red and white lights below. The cool night air kisses your skin and tousles your clothes. Gotham’s air has a burning singe to it too malicious to be reminiscent of a campfire. It’s more akin to a cigarette lit by the gas stove combined with cheap perfume. You toy with the invitation between your fingers. The swooping, gilded text is embossed across the creamy card stock and you rub your fingers over a specific sentence: This invitation a courtesy by Johnathan Crane, M.D.

Arkham hospital is having a charity auction.It’s an opportunity. One you maybe wouldn’t have gotten while working at the paper. But what’s the catch? What purpose would Crane have to invite you?You replay your short interview with the enigmatic, intelligent doctor. The man has secrets but who in Gotham doesn’t? This charity provides an opportunity to snoop around Arkham and talk to Dr. Mercer’s co-workers who refused to meet with you earlier. Below, several cars beep at the same time and it creates a strange, dissonant melody. Youcan’t pass this up.

You wonder if Bruce will front you some cash. It’ll be easier to blend in if you can pretend to try and buy a piece of artwork or maybe a little stone statue to use as a door stopper. You chuckle to yourself at the idea and brush the idea aside. You won’t use Bruce’s money to spend on frivolous artwork and sculptures that you cannot possibly fit inside your one bedroom apartment. That settles it. You have to attend. The soft pitter patter of fresh rainfall tings against the high rise windows, railings, and roofs. From high above, Gotham is shiny chrome and long dark shadows.

You wonder if Vengeance is in those shadows tonight.

You haven’t seen Batman since your failed chemistry experiment. Your lower stomach clenches at the memory and you willfully push the lustful thoughts aside. You and Vengeance have little reason to see each other right now. It’s been nothing but dead ends since Falcone avoided arrest. According to Gordon, the evidence locker was recently flooded due to a pipe burst and the analysis of your blood samples—containing whatever Falcone did to you—were destroyed.

So, you’ve been busy working on re-writing your Arkham article under Bruce’s employ. Your time as a vigilante journalist has dwindled. Yes, there are other stories in Gotham that need your attention, but none are as urgent as reviving the Arkham story. Plus your instincts keep telling you that it’s connected: Falcone. Dr. Mercer’s death. Arkham. The mysterious drugs.

There’s a thread here. You just have to find the right one to pull.

You flick your thumb against the card’s corner. You should tell him. Batman needs to know about this. If you want your plan to snoop around Arkham to succeed—you’re going to need Batman’s gadgets. You bend down, the wind and rainwater tickling the delicate skin at your temples, and click on the multi-colored lights that frame the balcony window. Your own secret call to the Bat.

You return inside, leave the sliding door unlocked and wait.

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

Bruce gets a call from Alfred while driving down fourth street. His voice crackles warmly over the headphone inside Bruce’s ear, “she’s got her lights on.” Alfred knows to periodically check the security cameras they installed across the street of your apartment and Bruce is grateful for his vigilance.

He pivots his motorcycle and takes a sharp turn through an alleyway as a shortcut. Someone on the sidewalk shouts profanities at him.

The rainwater ricochets off his helmet and spins like a hyped-up Ferris wheel around the tires. He’s seen you a handful of times for coffee dates or short walks in the park. Never lingering. Never doing more than kissing you. No matter how badly he wants to. It’s stupid. He’s fucked you twice as Batman, felt your walls quiver around his fingers and cock, listened to your sweet cries and watched your pretty eyes roll back into your skull. And yet...

It’s Batman who you call for in the middle of the night. He suspects that Bruce—in your mind—is at home, maybe asleep, maybe pacing his study, maybe watching some black-and-white foreign film. He wishes he could invite you over, sleep next to you, show you how he feels about youwith slow kisses buried between your thighs, but he can’t. The night is for him. For Vengeance. Gotham never sleeps so why should he? He needs to be awake and on the prowl. He needs to be ready for anything and that includes answering your silent and iridescent call.

He stows his motorcycle in the usual safe spot within the alleyway and uses his grappling hook to ascend to your floor without entering the building. His heart pounds as it always does when you’re in close proximity. Like his heart is trying to escape his chest and offer itself to you.

He sucks in a breath before sliding open the door. One of your downstairs neighbors is boiling cabbage, there’s a pair of wet socks on your radiator, and a candle on your coffee table flickers with the influx of air from the balcony door. The sight and smells of your apartment are achingly familiar. He prefers it—this tiny, homey space—compared to his large and extravagant penthouse. But then again, he prefers anywhere where you are.

He wishes he could remove his cowl and lay his head in your lap, but he folds his arms across his chest and says, “what did you find?”

“Take a look.” You toss a card onto the coffee table and the laptop illuminates your face in a blue-white glow. “I’m rubbing elbows with the right people it seems.”

“Crane?” He mutters to himself while examining the fancy, expensive card stock. A charity at Arkham. It’s strange that they’re hosting at the hospital instead of a fancy hotel. He makes a mental note to check the guest list.

“Several of Dr. Mercer’s co-workers talked to me before Mercer died. And now they won’t talk to me. That means someone or all of them are dirty and in someone’s pocket.” You explain and your eyes are lit furiously from within, “I hoped I could use Dr. Crane to reach the other employees of Arkham and this is my chance.”

“Do you think Falcone is involved?”

You shrug, “if not him then it’s another one of Gotham’s criminals.”

Bruce considers this information. It’s a decent lead. You aren’t looking at him. Your eyes are glued to the computer screen as your fingers move across the keyboard in quick, precise strokes. He could watch you for hours but those are hours he doesn’t have. Gotham needs him. As much as he wants to linger in your presence and kiss you—those are luxuries he cannot afford despite his generational wealth. He sets the invitation back onto the table.

“What’s your plan?” He asks.

“It’s simple. I go to the charity, talk to anyone that I think is involved, then we meet up during the auction itself.” Your eyes flick up and down, but he gets the distinct sensation that you’re not sizing him up in a flirtatious manner. Your expression, your tone, and body language is cool and professional. It reminds him of the early days working together...before he kissed you and pressed you against the windows of the Wayne penthouse.

“I assume you’ve got a way to enter Arkham without being noticed.” You return your attention to the screen, “we can snoop through their offices.”

“They’re likely to increase security during the event.”

You wave a hand, “that’s why I’m telling you now. It gives us time to prepare.”

He clenches his jaw. You are an unstoppable force when a story is involved. Your safety might not matter to yourself, but it matters to him. He can do this alone. He can visit Arkham while the charity takes place and discover whatever Crane or Dr. Mercer’s associates are up to. You don’t need to put yourself at risk. Even the small risk of arrest makes his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. He can’t protect Gotham and you at the same time.

He says, “I’ll go alone.”

“And do what?” Your nostrils flare, “punch some confessions out of doctors? No way, Batboy. I’m not letting you try and take this one from me. This is my story.”

“All you need is evidence.” He counters, “I can get that for you.” You stand from the couch and place your hands on your hips. You’re shorter but you glare up at him with the heat and intensity of a car lit by a Molotov cocktail. He holds your gaze and cherishes the burn he feels prickle across his skin.

“I need firsthand accounts.” You say, your voice firm and unyielding, “you could rifle through their paperwork and take pictures of every record available and it would take us months to find what we’re looking for. And who knows! Maybe Arkham will smarten up and wipe everything clean before I have the chance to publish.”

“You think people will talk to you at the auction?”

He watches your chest rise a little with your inhale. The way your eyelashes flutter close. You always closed your eyes before saying ‘yes’ to him. He wonders if you ever notice this little tell of yours—if it ever registers that the boy you scraped knees with and the man standing before you in black armor are the same.

“Yes,” You reply while opening your eyes, “I do.”

“Fine.” He bites out. Arguing with you is akin to arguing with a brick wall. “But, I’m not sending you in there without protection.” He won’t let what happened with you and Falcone happen ever again.

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

You toy with the little black bracelet on your wrist. A gift from Vengeance. It’s simple and straightforward. All it takes is one little press of a button near your wristbone and it releases an electric shock more painful and debilitating than your average taser. He explained that he wanted you to have something in case anyone got ‘too close’. Honestly, you hope you don’t have to use it.

Arkham’s charity event is being held in the new wing of the hospital. There are currently no patients, but it’s the perfect location for the chairmen and board members to show off the latest technology, the new rooms, and convince Gotham’s rich and powerful to make donations.

You let out a small breath of relief as you take in the freshly painted walls and large windows covered by thin, latticed metal. At least it’s spacious.Some of the other wings within Arkham State Hospital tended to trigger your claustrophobia. The murmurs of conversation float through the circular room above the music of stringed instruments by the door. The windows within the high ceilings look down at you like large black eyes as they reflect Gotham’s dark skies.You think, they should’ve made this a daytime event. It would’ve been more remarkable.

The pamphlet in your left hand boasts about the ‘benefits of natural light while providing safety, comfort and security for our patients’. In other words—Arkham has patients that can’t go outside due to the security risk and this newly built wing is their solution.

The two other exits lead into hallways but those doors are closed and guarded by security. A sign is posted nearby that reads: For Private Tours – Inquire with Director Susan S.

“I was wondering if you received my invite,” a smooth voice says from your right side. You turn to see Dr. Crane wearing a tuxedo, his brown hair slicked away from his angular face and shining beneath the warm florescent light bulbs.

“Did your secretary not pass along my RSVP?”

“She didn’t,” His sharp blue eyes drop to your shoes and then rise to your face, his look appraising and yet distant, “but she’s new and you look gorgeous so I’ll let it go.” Dr. Crane offers you his elbow and you politely take it, sliding your hand into the crook of his arm and allowing him to lead you through the swarm of well-dressed and perfumed bodies.

Youdon’t know how Bruce stomached these events. His parents were socialites and humanitarians who believed in a brighter future for Gotham.Youwonder what they’d say about Arkham's recent addition.

Crane passes you a flute of champagne and you use the opportunity to ask him how he’s settling into Arkham. His lips tug into a smile that feels secretive. He bows his head toward you and his breath ghosts along your cheek and neck.

“Some of my co-workers dislike me,” says Crane, “but I don’t take it personally. Every place has their hazing routines, their cliques, and established loyalties.”

You notice the discreet looks being tossed your way. Bored, inquisitive, jealous, and others are outright scandalized. You suspect that someone’s told Crane who you actually are by now which means he invited you for a reason. Time to find a thread to pull, you think.

You ask, “did you invite me as your plus one to disrupt those routines and loyalties?”

His eyes glimmer, “I did.”

“I’m honored.” You press the rim of your champagne glass to your lips, then lower it, watching Crane’s gaze as they follow your every movement. “Why me, though?”

“I see myself in you,” Crane guides you to the middle of the room where some of the guests are dancing in slow waltzes and whispering business deals to each other. The dark sky of Gotham—light pollution never allows for twinkling stars—peers down at you like the eyes of a shark. You can guess where this is going. The music and conversation provides enough white noise to muffle your conversation as long as you and Crane continue to whisper. You set your champagne glass on a nearby tray.

Crane gently takes your hand and your black bracelet slides on your wrist. “I’ve done my homework after our first meeting.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t do research prior to our first meeting.” You chastise as one of your hands settle on his slim shoulder, “I gave your secretary my real name.”

“A mistake I intend to never repeat.” He leads the dance. It’s a simple box step that doesn’t require much effort nor skill, “thank you for that lesson.”

You smile. “The first one is free.”

His hand slides to your lower back as he nudges you closer, “you really are determined to uncover Arkham’s secrets, aren’t you?” He whispers into the shell of your ear. You glance around the room, ensuring no one is watching—and if they are—well, all they’ll see is Dr. Crane getting close to an attractive woman. He’s good at this. Something in your gut urges you to be careful and play it safe.

“I’m here for the auction, Crane.”

“You’re here for more than that.”

You avoid his keen perception and change tactics.

“You said I remind you of yourself. That’s a bold statement considering we’ve spoken once.” You narrow your eyes over his shoulder at a familiar face. A part-time nurse named Jessica who refused to speak to you after Dr. Mercer’s death. The color of her dress washes out her complexion and the necklace around her throat sparkles like freshly fallen snow. Crane pivots and you lose sight of her.

“I’m a good judge of character,” he replies without missing a step. “In fact, you and Dr. Jacobs...”

Dr. Jacobs. He was on your list as one of Dr. Mercer’s associates, but you never had the chance to interview him. In fact, you planned on following up with Dr. Jacobs after Mercer’s death, but the man wouldn’t return any of your calls. You chalked it up to grief. But now...

Crane continues, “you both have an inner fire that cannot be understated.” He slows his step and tilts his head back to meet your eyes—steady and true. Dr. Crane looks at you as if he’s gazing into a house fire. You swallow.

“They called you ‘quicksilver’ didn’t they? At the Gotham Gazette?” You sense his questions are rhetorical. “I found that fascinating. They named you after a chemical element, a Roman God, because you--” he says your name “—are a force to be reckoned with.”

He leans in, speaking low, “and I pity anyone who underestimates you.”

You comb through his compliments, his lingering looks, and piece together your response. His hand on your lower back threatens to burn through the fabric of your clothing. What will Crane gain by helping you? Does he know that Dr. Jacobs and Dr. Mercer knew each other? And if he’s not helping then he’s...merely pointing out that he sees your ambitious nature...and signaling that he’s the same.

You reply, “maybe I’ll talk to Dr. Jacobs tonight and find out if we’re as similar as you say.”

“I’m afraid he’s not here.” Dr. Crane sighs, “I believe he mentioned a family obligation conflicted with this event.”

Good. His office will be clear to search.

“That’s too bad.”

Dr. Crane smirks lightly, “indeed.” He leads you to the edge of the circle, “I believe I’ve monopolized enough of your time tonight.” He took your co-joined hands and pressed a polite, chaste kiss against your knuckles. Your gaze darts away from him. “I need to speak with a few of my colleagues.”

Finally! The sooner you can snoop the sooner you can leave Arkham.

“Of course,” You step aside and try to not let your eagerness show on your face, “I should go to the ladies room before the bidding begins.”

“I’ll save you a seat.” Dr. Crane says.

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

Arkham’s security is not without its flaws. He and Alfred decided it would be more useful and less disruptive to hack into the system and program the cameras to play a loop of footage rather than try and disable the system from the outside. Thankfully, you needed access to the doctor’s offices which were far less patrolled and monitored than the area where Arkham housed its full-time patients.

An alert pings on his device. That’s his cue. He cuts through the skylight with a thin, blue laser. Then, using a handle with a glass-safe suction cup, he pulls the glass free and carefully sets it aside. Ideally, he’ll return through this skylight once the job is done.

He stands from his crouched position by the window and tests the tension in his repel line.It feels good, secure. He drops into Arkham State Hospital with a faint ‘zzzziiippp’ sound and lands behind you.

“You made it.” You whisper, relieved.

“Worried I wouldn’t?”

“More worried someone would catch me wandering the halls.” You smile a little and his heart squeezes, “I can only use the ‘I’m drunk’ excuse so many times before it gets suspicious.”

“We’ll be quick.” He checks the time, “Alfred said the camera feed will give us an hour, but we should plan for less.”

You set off toward the offices while holding up the flashlight on your phone, “we need to check out Dr. Jacobs’ office.”

The wood-paneled hallways are dimly lit and the only light source is the exit signs glowing red above doorways. The thin dark green carpet helps to muffle your footsteps. He takes a moment to appreciate you walking in front of him. He loves how efficient you are, how fearless, even when it threatens to give him a heart attack. And your ass looks incredible.

You stop in front of the metal double doors. A key card reader glows a muted yellow on the wall.

“Okay, your turn.”

“Why Dr. Jacobs?” He asks while approaching the key reader. He inserts a featureless key card into the slot. It’s attached to a device in his hand by a wide and thin wire and several numbers rapidly scan across the screen and illuminate his jaw in a greenish glow.

“Crane mentioned him.” Your rub your hands over your upper arms, “he said that Dr. Jacobs and I are similar because we’re ambitious. I don’t know. Crane doesn’t strike me as the type of person to say something without it meaning anything. He’s too smart for that.”

Bruce ignores the twinge of jealousy in his stomach. You aren’t interested in Crane. He knows that. You’re using Crane. But it still feels strange to hear you mention another man with a hint of admiration in your tone. He clenches his jaw. Crane isn’t that smart.

Bruce doesn’t look up from the device. “And you think he’s involved in Mercer’s death?”

“Mercer and Jacobs worked together and I never had the chance to interview him before Mercer died.” You lean in to watch the gadget in his palms, “I figured we would search the most likely suspects instead of digging through everyone’s desk.”

You continue, “we start with Jacobs, then Crane, and lastly Haywood.”

He mentally reflects on your files and notes. He should have known that you wouldn’t remove Crane from your list of suspects. Just because Crane wasn’t at Arkham at the same time as Mercer didn’t mean he was off the hook. You regarded everyone at Arkham with a low-level of suspicion. It didn’t matter if they were a groundskeeper, security, or head of the boardroom. Falcone’s payroll is the greatest mystery and it served to err on the side of caution when dealing with a dangerous criminal.

“Jessica Haywood?”

“Mhm.” The device beeps, the light turns green, and the doors click unlocked. “The jewelry she’s wearing tonight is well above the pay grade of a Per Diem nurse.”

Bruce unhooks the device from the reader and opens the door for you. You slip past him and for a brief second—the air lingers with your scent. His eyelashes flutter. It’s getting harder and harder to be this close. He pushes the thoughts from his mind and follow you into the personal offices of the doctors.

He says, “if Haywood is a part-time nurse, then she won’t have an office.”

“We’ll check HR for pay stubs and the nurse’s station log to see which floors and patients she’s worked with.”

Bruce grunts.

“You’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

Your smile threatens to topple the walls inside his heart and drag his loyalty Gotham into the ocean.

“Mostly.”

Dr. Jacob’s office smells like cigarettes. Together you meticulously comb through his files, check under seat cushions, and search for false walls. Bruce plugs a USB into the ancient computer desktop. In ten minutes, he’s obtained the contents of Dr. Jacobs hard-drive and sent it to Alfred for decryption.

On the way to Crane’s office, he asks, “are you still going to re-interview Mercer’s patients?”

“Assuming my relationship to Crane allows me access then yes.”

His heart ignites, burning hot inside his chest, and he exhales sharp through his nostrils.What happened tonight between you and him?He clears his throat and says, “relationship?”

You laugh quietly. “Professional relationship, Batman. Like us.”

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

You realize how silly your words are the second they leave your mouth. Batman stops short and pins his steely blue gaze on you. You shouldn’t have compared you and Crane to you and Batman. They are completely different. Your relationship to Batman almost borders on friendship. Or maybe it’s more like...co-workers who never dated, but did hook up and now have underlying sexual tension.

“Okay, not like that.” You lift your hands, “I’m not out fighting crime with Dr. Crane.”

Some of the tension in Batman’s jaw lessens. “We don’t fight crime together.”

“Well, that’s because you haven’t taught me to fight.” You wiggle your bracelet wrist, “and honestly you’ve been overprotective lately.”

“You’re a civilian.” He counters gruffly.

“So are you.” You lean your shoulder against the wall as Batman crouches at Crane’s door to pick the lock. “Unless you’ve recently been hired by the PD?”

Batman looks up at you and all that dark makeup around his light blue eyes highlights their color and depth. Your skin prickles, hot and sharp and painfully—painfully aware of what those eyes look like during the throes of desperate and sweaty sex. You want to kick yourself. You’re loyal to Bruce, you want to be with Bruce, but that doesn’t erase the attraction you feel towards Vengeance. His eyes drop back to the doorknob and he leaves your question unanswered.

Dr. Crane’s office doesn’t smell like anything which is a relief to your nostrils after the toxic and cloying scent of stale cigarettes in Dr. Jacobs. There isn’t a desktop in Crane’s office which leads you to assume that he takes his laptop home with him. You start with the filing cabinet that Crane glanced at during your interview with him. Batman searches his desk. And you work in comfortable silence. The anticipation gnaws at your stomach.

Come on, Crane.You need something tangible so you can start putting pressure on the doctors and nurses who are involved. Yourfirst article proved that the corruption within Arkham travels all the way to the administration. Mercer said they were powerful which means other doctors are involved. They have to be. So what did Jacobs do? Why did Crane mention him?

You step from the filing cabinet and pace the small office with your arms crossed.

“Dr. Mercer was afraid. He didn’t want to keep giving the police drugs and administration told him to stay quiet. His patients spoke highly of him. His co-workers liked him. Mercer dislike how the administration ran things.” You repeat the story to yourself in the hopes that you’ll find the piece you missed.

“Then, he dies two weeks after I present my article and the Gazette fires me. That’s not a coincidence.”

Batman opens one of the filing cabinet drawers. You let him continue his work as you talk yourself through the file details. There were plenty of co-workers of Dr. Mercer that have issues with Arkham but they were typical standard labor complaints—not enough holiday time, staffing issues, or personality clashes with other doctors. Who else could you talk to?

“I can try Jessica. She stopped talking to me after his death, but I know she idolized Dr. Mercer. Maybe I can appeal to her. Find the humanity.” You pause and press your fist against your lips.

There’s no way she could afford that necklace. Either she has a very wealthy partner or she’s accepted a bribe to stay quiet. But why? What does she know? Or are they just afraid of anyone who MIGHT talk?

A low ‘thump’ noise comes from Batman’s corner of the room.

Batman asks, “what’s Dr. Jacobs title?”

“Chief Psychiatrist.”

You hear him move closer and you turn to meet his stormy eyes. “Quicksilver, you need to see this.” The filing cabinet drawer is open, but a hidden inner compartment is unhinged and Batman grips a thick manila folder.

He opens the folder on Crane’s empty desk. Your heart bottoms out into your shoes and you clamp your fingers over your mouth to muffle your gasp.

“Holy shit!” you breathe.

The file spills out with evidence of experimental trials on patients. Experiments aren’t uncommon at Arkham. Sometimes drug companies and Arkham will partner up to test treatments, but it goes through a whole process of licensing and legal clearance. But this--? You steady one palm against the desk and your knees threaten to collapse from under you. The experiments involved sedating the patients with experimental manufactured opioids and then exposing them to high-stress situations—like torture—to see if their bodies and minds could withstand the pressure while on the experimental pain medication.

“Dr. Mercer…” His name glares in black ink like a gallows noose tightening around your neck. He was involved in this?!

You recall his final words to you before his death, “The guilt,” Dr. Mercer said, his expression pained, “I think it might eat me alive, Silver. I can feel it’s teeth in my heart.”

Your fingers tremble as you lift your phone to take photos of the files. The tests, the results, the sign offs of two prominent doctors: Dr. Jacobs and Dr. Mercer. Your eyes scan through the dates. Eventually, Dr. Mercer’s name stopped appearing. The files shift into another direction. The pain medication is no longer the focal point. Instead, the abstract of the experiment is: ‘To discover the effects of hallucinogens on recovery and behavioral control.’

“Wait,” you flip the pages and count the dates, “what happened to the pain medication trials?”

“It looks like they started a new project.” Batman’s hard and armored shoulder brushes against your body and you tremble for an entirely different reason. You bite your lip and refocus your attention.

“Why didn’t Dr. Mercer tell me? He said he was giving drugs to cops not--” You let out a frustrated sigh, “subjecting mentally ill patients to torture and experimental off-market drugs.”

Gotham, even on her worst days, manages to surprise you. Youbelieved Mercer was one of the good ones. He wanted people to get better. He wanted to help. How could this get so twisted?

“Why does Crane have all this?” he grumbles.

“What do you mean? It’s obvious.”

Batman turns his head toward you, his eyes questioning, and you close your eyes.

“Dr. Jacobs has some big skeletons in his closet. There’s no saving his reputation from this. Arkham will have no choice but to fire him to save face and claim they knew nothing about this. And an internal investigation will likely take place after Jacobs is fired.” You gesture to the files on the desk. “That means Crane, the new blood of Arkham, has the perfect opportunity to apply for his position.”

You recall Crane’s secretive smile, his perceptive gaze, and deliberate and careful words. His glances at this cabinet during your first meeting were planned. He curated this moment from the start.

“He doesn’t want to be the one to blow the whistle on Arkham.”

“Because it would impact his chance at the job,” Batman guesses. It’s a fair enough assumption. You’d bet money on it if you were a betting woman.

You reply earnestly, “no one likes the person who reveals the truth.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Batman places his gloved hand over yours and gently squeezes your fingers, “Gotham needs people like you, Silver.”

Your lips shift into a grateful yet embarrassed smile.

“I know.”

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

ARKHAM’S CORRUPTION BROUGHT TO LIGHT. The bold text slams across the headline with a grainy, colored photo Dr. Jacobs being arrested outside the hospital.

Every news outlet whether newspaper or television is reporting the story you wrote. The story secretly bankrolled by Bruce Wayne. Your childhood friend and sort-of boyfriend (you haven’t discussed labels yet). The article was published with an independent paper outside of Gotham. It spread like wildfire online and took Gotham by storm. The rest of the media vultures were forced to scramble to keep up.

And—it wouldn’t have been possible without Gotham’s caped crusader. Vengeance. The Bat. He cross-engineered the pain medication and it matched the drugs on the streets. Then, in a surprise twist, he revealed to Gordon that the ongoing hallucinogenic trial had components that matched your blood sample from your time with Falcone. Was it a little weird knowing Batman had your blood samples somewhere? Yes. But it led to the greater good so you chose to accept the weirdness.

The complied evidence encouraged Gordon to look into it. He obtained a warrant to search Dr. Jacobs home and office. His hard-drive contained copies of patient medical history and backups of all of his unethical experiments. ‘Sadly, the documents we found at his office were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to Jacobs little pet projects’, you think.

However, the search for his co-conspirators is in process. It’s likely that Dr. Jacobs provided Falcone with the drugs he used on you and the other girls, but you’re doubtful Falcone will face any justice for it. Falcone is too slippery and influential. It’ll take something big to take him down.

Everything was connected just not in the way you imagined.

You click away from the news article.

Arkham’s official statement is “we are saddened to hear that our chief psychiatrist took advantage of our patients and staff. His actions were never sanctioned by our hospital and our thoughts are with the families of the patients at this time.” A rather magnanimous statement considering they’re scrambling for any good PR coverage lately.

You grab your coat from the edge of the couch and check your phone.

The text from Bruce reads: I’m outside.

You haven’t processed everything that’s happened in the span of a week. Gotham Gazette offered you a job with a pay raise and corner office. Dr. Crane mailed you a thank you note for attending the charity auction. The words were typed, concise, and polite. But you see it for what it truly is—Thank you for taking out the competition. Dr. Mercer’s involvement in the experiments is a tender sore on your heart. You never uncovered if Falcone or someone else killed him and now it’s over. You wish you could have put Falcone and his associates behind bars. But you’re forced to settle for shutting down Falcone’s drug connection.

It’s a victory. Victories are rare in Gotham especially for those on the side of justice. You try to remember that.

Arkham will move on. Gotham will move on.

And you have to move on too. There are other stories to be written, truths to bring into the light. You have a date tonight with Bruce and you’re determined to enjoy it.

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

You loop your arm around Bruce’s elbow as you walk down the sidewalk toward his car.

“I appreciate that you came out, you know.” You say with fondness laced through your tone. “I know you prefer staying in.”

He’s a recluse, but he comes out to meet you every time you ask. You’re grateful the paparazzi are too swept up in the Dr. Jacobs story to care about the enigmatic Bruce Wayne. You know how he feels about being in the public eye and you don’t want any unnecessary strain added to this new, budding relationship. Life feels almost normal when you’re like this…There’s no lead to chase, no witnesses to interview, no late night sleuthing through the library archives.

His lips twitch upward. “I don’t mind it.” His clear blue eyes glance sidelong toward you, his sooty eyelashes flutter against his pale cheeks, “as long as it’s with you.”

“Hmm?” You lean closer into his side and let the expensive woolly warmth of his jacket seep into your elbow and arm. “Sounds like you’ve got a soft spot for me, Brucie.” You use the nickname from your youth and Bruce reflexively cringes.

“Maybe,” he teases, “but can you blame me?” He suddenly draws to a stop and cradles your cheek with one hand. You lean into the familiar mounds of his palm, the curve of his fingers. The chilly air of Gotham drifts through your legs and curls around your ankles. Every nerve in your body sings with joy at his closeness. Who knew you’d go from childhood friends, to strangers, to this? The tender display of public affection is enough to send your heart into overdrive and your pulse throbs inside your ears.

He gazes at you, pupils dilated, lips softly parted. You think he might kiss you at any moment. Bruce tends to get this look before kissing you—like he can’t believe it, like he thinks he’s dreaming. Your faces draw imperceptibly closer as if pulled by an invisible string. His breath is warm on your lips. It’s a delightful contrast to the chilled wind that tugs at your coat and sneaks cold kisses behind your ears. Your eyes slip shut.

“Oof!” Bruce exclaims. A blunt pain ricochets into your side. Your eyes spring open. You have barely enough time to throw your hands out and catch yourself as you’re knocked sideways and onto the hard and uneven asphalt. You wince as your skin scrapes against the ground. Bruce is on his hands and knees, his eyes wide, hair falling in dark strands in front of his face. A masked assailant towers above him with a wooden baseball bat. Oh God. Oh God.

“Story should’ve stayed dead, bitch!” Someone shouts before their boot stomps into your lower spine and pins you to the asphalt. Instinct takes over. Fear overrides logic. Your breath comes out in haggard puffs. The dark bracelet from Batman glimmers in your peripheral vision. You just need to get close enough. The boot lifts from your back. Someone grunts. The sound of shoes scuffling on the pavement reverberates in your head. Now is your chance! The boot returns with a swift, hard kick into your rib cage.

The air is forced from your lungs in a pained exhale. Everything feels raw. Your throat constricts. Another kick. The world blurs with tears. Your body instinctively curls like a wounded creature. One arm wraps around your stomach and the other to your head. The bracelet dangles like a cherished heirloom in front of your eyes. Batman showed you how to use it, but you can’t activate it from this position, can you? You need your hands free. The next kick hits your shinbone. The pain is acute and travels up your knee. You squeeze your eyes shut. What about Bruce?! You hate this stupid parking lot. You hate that no one is stopping to help or intervene. You hate that you can’t think and that your body is tense and trembling in preparation of the next blow. You hate the helpless feeling that’s building inside your chest and shaking salty tears from your lashes.

Someone is laughing. A slurred, drunk sound. “This one’s got some fight in him!”

“Whadda you think we should we do with him?”

“Just knock him out!” The one above you yells, “we’re here for her. Not him.”

Three. Three voices. There’s three of them. The next kick hits your shoulder and your forced onto your back. There’s no time to prepare, no time to cry out, as the boot presses into your throat. Fuck! You glance quickly to where Bruce was and see that he’s fighting—you gurgle as your assailant applies pressure to your neck and glares down at you through the holes in his ski-mask. A ski mask? What a cliché. An unexpected, hysterical laugh bubbles out of you. You flail and scratch your nails against his denim covered leg.

“This is what happens to nosy journalists in Gotham,” he sneers from above, “you should have just kept your pretty mouth shut and wrote stories about missing puppies and shit.” Several white dots dance around your vision.

Bruce grunts in pain. Your worry for his safety abruptly overrides your fear and hysteria. You don’t care if these guys are here to kill you or scare you, but you aren’t going to let them keep hurting Bruce. His only crime was being close to you. If he wasn’t here with you...then this never would’ve happened. You aren’t powerless. You aren’t helpless.

You release your hands from the thug’s leg and grab your bracelet. Muscle memory takes over. You presses into the spot near your wristbone and the bracelet hums to life. Two prongs like a spider’s fangs eject from the edge of the bracelet near the back of your hand. You slam the fangs into your assailant’s leg. They easily bite through the fabric of his jeans. The electric shock throws him off-balance and he convulses with a screech of pain. Your lungs rapidly expand as if to greedily swallow the air you were denied. You roll onto your stomach, onto your hands and knees, before pulling yourself upright. The scene comes to you in broken, jagged pieces.

The leader in the ski mask is on the ground sprawled out and twitching. If he’s dead then good riddance even though you’d like to know who sent him. The other two thugs are on the ground and Bruce is standing over them—chest heaving, his dark hair in disarray, his bloodied fists clenched at his sides, his chin smeared with blood from a split lip.

You exhale, “Bruce.” It’s unclear who moves first: you or him. Your arms encircle his middle and he clutches you to his chest like you’re going to fade into smoke.

“You’re okay?” His voice is raw and trembling, he strokes the sides of your face, your arms, your shoulders with desperate and careful motions, his eyes roam every inch of you, “you’re okay?”

You manage to nod. It’s surreal. You’re no stranger to violence in Gotham. You’ve run from drug dealers, used pepper spray on someone trying to steal your car, veered off the road due to a high speed chance, and not to mention your time with Falcone—your investigative journalism is a high risk occupation. But you’ve never been scared like this before. You can’t help but wonder if it’s because Bruce was involved. You feared for his safety. You refused to entertain the thought of losing him.

“Let’s go—let’s go.” He urges, pulling you by the elbow to his car, “c’mon, Silver.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’m so sorry.” It’s your fault. Bruce paid for the story, but you’ll pay the price of exposing Arkham for the rest of your life. “I’m sorry...”

Bruce shakes his head.

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

You don’t recall the drive to Wayne Penthouse. You sat in the passenger seat with your eyes closed, your hands cupped around your head between your knees, forcing air into your lungs and exhaling slowly until your heart regulated. Bruce is painfully quiet. You don’t register anything until the purring car engine shuts off.

“Bruce,” you begin, lifting your head, “I’m so sorry.” Bruce is staring straight ahead at the concrete wall of his garage, raw knuckles clenched around the steering wheel, his eyes closed. His expression pained and closed-off. Your feel your heart drag across razor blades. He fought for you, bled for you. You’re relieved he could hold his own and grateful that the thugs didn’t bring any weapons besides wooden baseball bats and bare fists. You don’t want to think about what could’ve happened if any of them had a gun.

He rasps, “Don’t.”

You unbuckle and angle yourself toward him. Your bruised skin bristles with pain at the twist of your spine and shift of your hips. You need to explain. You need to help him see. This is an unfortunate part of the life you lead. He once joked that you were a ‘journalist with a death wish’. It’s not true, of course. You have no desire to die. But you have and will continue to suffer for the sake of Gotham’s truth. When you pursue influential people and start airing their dirty laundry, they will use their power, wealth, and any illegal or legal resources to try and scare you away.

Unfortunately for them, you aren’t easily cowed. What was it Falcone said? You’ve got Gotham in your blood. Gotham raised you. She taught you how to read people, and be resourceful, and hungry for truth.

“Bruce—they wanted me. They wanted to punish me for the Arkham article.”

“I know.”

“If you weren’t with me…” You trail off and look at the center dashboard of his expensive designer car. The guilt gnaws at your bones, threatening to break them. Bruce grabs your chin. His grip isn’t painful—it never is—but it is pointed, urgent, and he yanks your face toward his.

His lips press into yours without warning. Your mouth opens for him and a faint taste of copper bites your tongue. You’ve kissed Bruce more than a dozen times. But never like this.

His tongue moves in desperate, messy strokes and each movement sends a hot and powerful spark to your core. He groans loudly into your mouth, cupping the back of your skull, keeping you close, not even allowing you to break away to breath. You inhale raggedly through your nostrils and push your fingers up along his chest. Something fragile and tenuous shatters between you. He’s alive. You’re alive. It was a harrowing experience—but you are here. Together.

“I need you,” He gasps, “please.” He presses his forehead against yours and his sweet blue eyes bleed into yours. Up close, you can see the reddish-purple swell of a bruise forming on his cheekbone. His lips are raw, bloody, the split lip likely re-opened and aggravated from kissing. You close your eyes to collect your thoughts. You know Bruce. You know him like the lines on the sidewalk outside your childhood home. You know him like the curved handle of your favorite coffee mug. You know Bruce isn’t lying when he tells you he needs you and you know he’s not exaggerating either. You’ve wanted him for years. Ached for him. And this moment might not be perfect, it might not be what you imagined, but God—you’re not going to turn him away. Not when you need him just as desperately as he needs you.

“Okay,” You swipe your thumb across his bloodied lip, “yes, Bruce. Yes.”

Bruce’s expression crumples with relief and he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is slower this time. You take a moment to savor it. Your fingers card through his silky, dark hair and he sucks your lower lip into his mouth with an appreciative hum.

His cool and calloused hand pushes along your upper thigh.

“Right here?” You guess.

“Right here.” He adjusts and grabs your hips to pull you over the center console and into his lap. Your ass bumps against the steering wheel. At least it’s private, you smile at the thought. No one is going to come wandering into Wayne’s personal garage. Except for maybe Alfred? But you assume the old man has enough sense to give you and Bruce plenty of space. Bruce’s lips travel down your jaw to your throat and you angle your neck back to allow him more space to explore. His kisses are light and exploratory, slightly roughed by the dryness of his mouth and gentle scrape of his stubble. It feels better than you could’ve imagined.

Bruce exhales, his voice pitched low and gravely, “I’ve wanted you for so long,” his mouth closes over your collarbone. Your heart leaps at his words, at the implication, at the idea that maybe...just maybe...you weren’t the only one yearning and hoping for years on end.

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

His body is sore. He forgot how much things can hurt when he’s not in the suit. But nothing is going to tear him away from this moment with you. He’s careful where he touches. He knows that low-life got more than a few kicks onto your perfect body and if he had been alone then he would’ve broken every bone in that man’s body as recompense. His anger threatens to boil to the forefront of his mind, but Bruce wrestles it back. Now isn’t the time.

He tugs your dress off your shoulders and his cock twitches at the sound of your pleased sigh. Your breasts are perfect. Perfect shape. And at this angle? The perfect height for him to bury his face between them and trail kisses across your skin. He’s never had the opportunity to worship you like this. To press his lips and tongue against your skin, taste your sweat, feel your heartbeat against his nose. His lips enclose around one of your nipples and you cry out, your fingers entangling in his hair to pull him closer, and he flicks his tongue against the hardened nub.

“Fuck,” he moans, his hot breath pants against your skin, before he cups the breast in his hand and holds it while his tongue and mouth lavishes across your nipple over and over again. Your hips cant into his, seeking friction and release, and he trembles as your clothed cunt grinds into his hard cock.

“I’ll give you what you want, Quicksilver.” He promises and you whimper in reply to his words, “Shh.” His bloodied knuckles shine in the light as he kneads your other breast beneath his palm. “I’ll take care of you.”

He wants to make this memorable. He wants it to mean something. He’s outside the shadows with you for the first time. He isn’t hiding behind the cowl, behind his loyalty to Gotham. He is raw, and bloodied, and trembling with anticipation. Your fingers fumble with the hem of his long-sleeved dark shirt and yank it upwards in a graceless motion. He winces as he leans back, his arms overhead, and the shirt is tossed to the passenger side.

“Oh, fuck, Bruce!” You blurt and place your hand above his right pectoral. He winces again at the pressure, but gently places his hand on your wrist. His heart swells with pride and appreciation at his bracelet dangling from your wrist. It saved you when he couldn’t.

“It’s okay,” He looks toward the cut. It’s shallow. Superficial. It likely won’t scar. “Hey, hey, look at me.” He guides your chin, meeting your eyes, and his heart capsizes at the concern pouring from your gaze. “I’m okay, Silver. I promise.”

He holds your chin and kisses you before you have the chance to apologize again. It’s not your fault. It’s his. He got complacent after the article was released. He made a grievous error through his lack of vigilance. He should’ve been more careful, should’ve had Alfred checking the footage to see if you were being tailed, should’ve suggested you stay at the penthouse for a few days until the dust settled. People at Arkham and people connected to Jacobs and Falcone are going to try and settle the score.

He won’t let that happen, though. He feels you relax beneath his touch, feels your lips move urgently against his, how your body arches into him and your hardened nipples press into his bare chest. Bruce shivers. God, it feels so good to be skin to skin with you. He is wholly without armor in both the physical and metaphorical sense and it’s terrifying and electrifying.

He wonders if you know how you affect him. His hands cup your backside, squeezing, pressing you closer into him and pressing his agonizingly hard length between your legs. You make a sweet, soft sound and Bruce swallows back his groan. Everything you do is intoxicating to him.

“I’d like to do this again after we’re inside,” he says to the hollow of your throat, “properly.”

“Properly?” your laughter runs like a vein through your voice, “like with candles and roses?”

“Something like that,” he bunches the bottom of your dress until its hiked up in a ruffled heap around your hips and his gaze snags on the bruises on your ribs. “I’ll leave it to your imagination.” He says with a small grin.

“Ohh, a surprise.”

“Mm.”

He pushes his hand between your legs and discovers the dampened fabric of your underwear. Fuck. You’re always so wet for him. Bruce’s eyes roll back into his skull and he hisses through his teeth.

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

You were worried the sight of Bruce’s injuries would be a deterrent, but it isn’t. His bloodied lip, swollen cheekbone, and the bleeding cut on his chest are proof that he lived. A little scuffed up, but whole and alive and touching you with comfortable ease. You whimper at the first touch of his thumb across your swollen clit. Your body thrums with frustrated desire. He’s already made the tempting promise to continue once you’re inside the penthouse and quite frankly—you want to two things: for Bruce to be inside of you and then to see what he has planned in the comfort and luxury of his home.

“Bruce, please,” Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, “don’t make me wait.”

He buries his face between your breasts, his kisses sloppy, and mumbles, “I want you to come first.”

Always a goddamn gentleman!

He arches his neck, leaning his head back against the headrest of his seat, and gazes up at you with fervent adoration. You open your mouth to quip at him, to tell him the car is cramped and you’re feeling impatient, but then the concentric motion of his fingers tightens, adding pressure, and the effect is dizzying. Your mouth lets out a garbled “please” instead of articulating any of the other thoughts inside of your head. You lean forward to kiss him, feeling his nose press into yours and the coppery taste of his kiss blossoms on your tongue. Your hips thrust and chase the movements of his hand.

Your hands glide across his chest, his arms—which are surprisingly sinewy—and your fingertips catch along ridges and bumps that can only be attributed to scars. But scars from what? Before the thought can form, Bruce’s index and middle fingers plunge into your wet cunt and your spine convulses and your walls clench around his digits. The world goes muted and soft. Gotham narrows into two souls in an expensive, black car within a private garage beneath a penthouse.

You pant into Bruce’s mouth, sweat collecting on your temples, as he strokes and coaxes the fire burning low and hot in your lower belly.

Bruce says, “you’re so beautiful.” His words are quiet, bashful. And your neck prickles at the compliment. It means more coming from him than anyone else in the world. You hide your face in the crook of Bruce’s warm neck and pepper kisses along his jaw and the side of his face. The windows fog. The sound of his fingers moving slick and fast between your legs fills your eardrums. Your thighs shake.

“F-fuck.” You choke out, “close.”

“That’s it,” he whispers, “that’s my perfect girl. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

The orgasm hits you slow and serene and drawn-out. Your neck arches and your chin rests on Bruce’s forehead as the quakes tremble through your body in throbs of heat and euphoria. Bruce keeps his hand there, poised within as your walls rhythmically squeeze around his fingers, and he doesn’t pull away until your head drops against his shoulder and pant onto his damp, bruised skin.

He kisses your temple. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes.”

It’s awkward. You lift your hips and your arms tremble as you hold yourself steady. He struggles to unzip his pants. You only get a brief glance of his cock before he positions himself between your legs and motions with his other hand for you to lower yourself. You brace yourself on his shoulders and Bruce looks up, holding your eye-contact, and is unwavering as the tip of his cock slips between your folds.

His teeth bare into a snarl, “Oh, fuck.”

The blue of his eyes are nearly swallowed whole by his pupils. He moans your name like it’s being ripped from his soul. You let out a breathy chuckle, allowing yourself to close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you as Bruce sinks into you inch by inch. It feels so good you don’t want to move. You rock your hips back and forth instead of thrusting and it creates a deep and wonderful sensation that travels from your head to your toes. He fits perfect. His mouth travels hungrily across your chest and neck and jaw. His tongue licks glistening stripes of sweat from your skin. His hands knead and squeeze your ass. You feel as if Bruce is trying to melt your bodies together, consume you, and you find yourself copying his motions. You kiss him, bloodied lips and all, and drink in his low and deep groans. Your hands, even as they smear with the blood from his cut, travel across the muscled expanse of his pale chest and your fingertips occasionally dig in when he thrusts up into you. You’ve passed the threshold of your earlier desperate frenzy to touch and be touched, to feel alive and safe together.

These movements, these gestures, speak to the deep cavern of tenderness that is shared between you. Your throat tightens. Bruce’s fingertips trail along your spine and he turns his head to whisper your name into your ear.

Time doesn’t move. It melts. It shapes condensation on the windows. It pools at the dip between Bruce’s collarbones. It glistens where your bodies are joined.

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

Afterwards, you cradle his face between your hands and touch sweaty forehead to sweaty forehead. Your heart is pounding. Your dress is crumpled around your hips and stuck to your skin. Your bruises pulsate with muted pain. Bruce’s dried blood peeks between your fingers. And yet you’ve never felt more at peace.

He says, “stay with me.”

“W-what?”

“Stay with me,” he repeats, unfazed by your confusion, “for a few days. Maybe a week.”

You swallow. Okay, stay calm. He’s not asking you to move in. Your smile breaks across your face and Bruce’s eyes widen at the sight of it. As if bearing witness to your joy is a privilege and not something he’s earned.

“We’re having this conversation now?”

“Silver,” he chuckles dryly and your smile widens. It’s so wonderful to hear Bruce laugh. “Someday, I’d like to ask you a question and get a straight answer.”

“I’m a journalist.” You roll your eyes, “asking follow-up questions is my forte.”

Bruce takes your hand between his and intertwines your fingers, “and you’re the best journalist Gotham has.” He meets your eyes, “so, will you stay?”

You should tell Bruce ‘no’ from time to time. It’ll be good for his pride. Today, however, is not the day.

“Yes, Bruce. I’ll stay.”

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

You wake during the night. Bruce’s bedroom is cozily lit from the bedside table lamp and you reach across his back to shut it off. Your hand freezes in mid-air. They are scars. After you and Bruce left the garage, you meant to ask him about it, but his hands and mouth were...too distracting...and you lost all train of thought. You sit up and analyze the serpentine shape of his spine, the moles totting his skin, the curve of his shoulder blades, the cream colored sheets wrapped around his slim waist.

You resist the temptation to trail your fingers across the scars. You don’t want to wake him.

You hope that those thugs didn’t leave him with any scars. He claimed the one on his chest would heal fine. But, how does he know? He isn’t a doctor. You shift and sit upright. Your instincts flare. A gut reaction hits you like a punch to the throat. There’s blood in the water. There’s bones under the soil. A story. Another thread to pull. You carefully climb out of bed and grab a few pieces of blank paper from Bruce’s desk.

You start with today—it’s fresh in your mind.

The bracelet. Bruce didn’t notice or make comments when you first began wearing it. He didn’t ask any questions after seeing the bracelet electrocute someone into unconsciousness. Okay. A little odd, right? But there’s a few possible answers. Maybe he didn’t see it happen. Maybe he assumed you used a standard taser.

You write ‘why didn’t Batman come for me?’ on the page and stare at the letters. Batboy always has a knack for knowing when you’re in trouble. He didn’t show today. You know you aren’t his first priority. You know he’s got an entire city to look out for. But…

You write ‘Security’ on the page. Alfred told you that the Wayne home has ‘top of the line’ security. How the hell did Batman break-in without tripping any of the alarms? You’re certain that Bruce or Alfred would’ve mentioned something if they were worried about the security of the home.

You write ‘Falcone’. You sketch out the timeline out of instinct. Falcone is well-known around Gotham, but when you and Bruce reconnected, you never explicitly told him you were investigating Falcone. It was better to keep that sort of thing under wraps. It’s safer that way.

After you were released from the hospital, Bruce said something like ‘Falcone can’t hurt you’ right? You rub your hand over your jaw and frown. This is a long shot. You grab your phone and text Gordon the following message: ‘Hey, did you tell Bruce that I was drugged by Falcone?’

You scribble onto the page and let your mind wander. You doodle a little flower. And the memory hits like a freight train. Bruce’s flowers. They said ‘to my perfect girl’. Never in your time together had Bruce used that nickname. Batman, however, did. Your heart leaps inside your throat and your phone buzzes in your hand.

Gordon replies: God, kid. What are you doing awake at this hour? To answer your question, no. When I called Mr. Wayne, I informed him that you were caught in the middle of an active investigation and dosed with an unknown drug. I might have mentioned Falcone while ya’ll were together in the room, but I never directly stated that Falcone harmed or drugged you. Now get some sleep!

You reply a quick thanks and set your phone down. This is crazy. Bruce is Batman? He’s Vengeance? You press your fingertips into your tired eyes and your thoughts circle like sharks. And if he is then why didn’t he tell you? You huff and stare at your quick notes scribbled on various pieces of paper scattered on the carpet.

It isn’t so unusual, is it? He’s grossly wealthy, intelligent, and without a social life which gives him lots of free time. And you recently learned that Bruce can fight! Those scars of his aren’t from kitchen mishaps or car accidents.

“What’re you doing?” Bruce’s groggy voice lifts from the frumpy bed sheets.

Well, it’s now or never. There’s no way you’re going back to sleep with this question hanging like an anvil over your head.

“Are you Batman?”

Bruce sits up.

“Or Vengeance? Whatever you like to go by, I suppose.”

He rubs his hand down the length of his face. His shoulders are stiff. You watch as he swings his legs and clambers off the bed with clumsy grace. His boxer briefs hang low on his hips and as he stands before you in the light of his bedroom you can’t help but notice the scars on his chest.

His eyes scan the disorganized and chaotic papers on the floor. His expression is unreadable. You lay your palms on your knees and wait for his reply. Although you think his silence is answer enough.

“Silver…” He says with a minute shake of his head, “can this wait until morning?”

“No.” You deadpan, “I won’t be able to sleep without knowing.”

Bruce slowly lowers himself to sit across from you on the floor. Suddenly, you are eight years old again and having a sleep-over party at the Wayne’s. His mother is downstairs making popcorn. You both won’t stop arguing over which movie to watch. Your heart clenches. You blink away the memory. Once upon a time, you called Bruce Wayne your best friend.

He sighs.

“Bruce,” you wait until he meets your gaze and you hold it, “I want the truth.”

“I know.” He drags his fingers through his messy dark hair.

“Is that something you can give me?” You swallow the lump in your throat. If he can’t be honest, if he brushes it off or refuses to reply, then you know this relationship—hell, your rekindled friendship—is dead in the water. Even your partnership to Batman will be forced to end. He peers at you through the strands of his hair falling in front of his forehead. You wait. He can agonize over his response all he wants. The truth, as always, is the only thing that matters.

He finally says, “yes.”

“Yes as in you’re Batman? Or yes as in you can tell me the truth?”

“Both.”

You tap two fingers against your papers on the floor, “ha! Knew it.” You scoot closer to Bruce and his eyes widen.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You gaze up at the high ceiling, your brow furrowed in thought. You slept with Batman—Bruce – twice and he never thought about revealing his secret? Would he have just continued to live a secret double life while dating? Did he seriously expect that you wouldn’t figure it out someday?

“I wanted to keep you safe.”

“After today,” you chuckle, “I think I have more enemies than Batman does.”

Bruce says your name softly, “This is only the beginning for me, Silver.” His hands curl into a fist, “Gotham needs me.”

“Gotham needs me too, you dork. You said so yourself!” You smile. “None of these other freelance journalists have the courage to take down the big fish. We both are driven by our love for this city. We both take risks. If you can continue to do your job and I can continue to do mine then I don’t see any issue.”

He stares at you and his lips part in awe.

“I thought if you knew...” says Bruce quietly, “you’d leave.”

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his curled fist. “Bruce, I – well—I endured several years without you and you know what? Those years sucked.” You smile, a timid and gentle smile, and more vulnerable than you’ve ever given him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bruce. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

Bruce leans in and rests his forehead on your bare shoulder.

He murmurs, “I don’t want to be anywhere else either.”

“Then it’s settled. We stay together and fight crime and change Gotham for the better.”

Bruce lifts his head and levels you with a serious look, “you are not fighting.”

You tease, “okay, you say that now, but I’m already work-shopping costume ideas and team names.” You cup the side of his face, “The Silver Bat? Mercury and Vengeance? Batboy and Journalist Gal?” You ramble off your ideas until Bruce’s serious expression melts away and his lips twitch in a begrudging smirk.

[multidimensionalguidance]

📚💸 Career + Wealth Analysis 💸📚

One of the most frequent questions astrologers receive from their clients when doing a chart reading is about their career, profession or work.

The labor we do on an everyday basis is essential when it comes to our finances and self fulfillment. It can either be something we enjoy doing that meets all of our needs, or what brings a paycheck yet lacks inner satisfaction.

There are several ways to confirm if the work you are doing is activating your Venus properly, and you may wonder why that planet in particular? Simple! Venus is related to finances, luxury, and comfort. The jobs that align with our Venus sign tend to be the ones that not only fits into our financial needs, but also provides a genuine feeling of contentment.

So, if you want the straight forward answer to “What career/field/job/hobby can help me create wealth and feel joyful about it?” Then Venus is your short answer. Remember that wealth will look differently for everyone since we all have different perceptions of how much money is truly enough to have the lifestyle we dream of.

Look for the Sidereal sign that your Venus falls in, find below the careers or fields related to it, and confirm for yourself the difference in your wealth accumulation once you incorporate it into your life.

Note: please keep in mind that if your Venus is conj, square or opposite a malefic planet/s (Mars, Saturn, Rahu/Ketu), there will be some natural resistance or challenges that you will experience throughout life with work, job, profession, or financial matters. Venus in Virgo, Scorpio, and Capricorn to a degree could also experience similar experiences.

The house where this planet is placed also tells a lot about the way your job manifests in your life (places, people, etc). Now, there are many ways to remediate any negative effects, so no need to be concerned or feel doomed.

There are many advanced Vedic Astrologers who mostly focus on remediation of planets that are in difficult or challenged positions, so take a look at the options available if you ever feel like there's an extra difficulty for you in those matters.

♈️➡️ Vocations that require independence, daring and the pioneering spirit: entrepreneurs, pioneers in any field, idea people, those who initiate new projects, troubleshooters, directors, adventurers, executives.

Firemen or fire fighters, forest rangers, engineers (metallurgical), members of the armed forces, firearms experts, police officers, machinists, mechanics, iron and steel workers, locksmiths, welders, athletics that involve speed and daring, race car drivers, contact sports, boxers, dancers, movement therapists, physical education instructors, surgeons.

♉️➡️ Vocations dealing with the earth and substance: farmers, ranchers, agriculture instructors, landscape architects, gardeners, rock collectors (semi-precious gems), builders, carpenters, building contractors, concrete pourers, chiropractors, massage therapists, computer programmers.

Occupations involved with money and finance: bankers, bank tellers, stock brokers, financiers, money managers, investment advisors, security analysts, treasurers, economists.

Artists, sculptors, jewelers, pottery makers, fashion designers, tailors, florists, musicians, singers, voice teachers, throat specialists.

♊️➡️ Vocations involved with communication or transportation: authors, proofreaders, ad copywriters, screenplay writers, editors, reporters, teachers, lecturers, linguists, speech therapists, librarians, bookstore owners, publishers, magazine employees.

Radio operators or disc jockeys, television producers, telephone operators or repair persons, telemarketers, stationery store owners, journalists, salespeople, printers, book distributors, clerks, office workers, secretaries, typists, typesetters.

Messengers, mail carriers, taxi drivers, bus drivers, railway employees, plane pilots, accountants, jacks-of-all-trades. Can engage in two or more occupations at once.

♋️➡️ Vocations that nurture: physically or emotionally (especially through food): caterers, restaurant owners, chefs, cooks, bakers, waiters and waitresses, confectioners, dairy farmers, grocers, food distributors, nutritionists.

Social workers, counselors, psychics, nurses, family therapists, preschool teachers, children's writers, tioners, caretakers, water-related occupations, plumbers, swimmers, lifeguards, fishermen.

All careers dealing with the home: realtors, hotel managers, innkeepers, homemakers, governesses, maids, laundry workers.

♌️➡️ Performers of all types: actors and actresses, playwrights, entertainers, dancers, singers, musicians, movie stars, circus performers, jugglers, clowns, sports figures, teachers (good teachers are entertainers), amuse ment park owners, speculators, gamblers.

Leaders of all types: executives, managers, government officials, politicians, foremen, judges, athletes, salespeople, the profession of selling, promoters, dia: mond and precious metal brokers, gold workers, heart specialists, all vocations involving children.

♍️➡️ Vocations dealing with analysis, detail and technical expertise: statisticians, accountants, book-keepers, computer programmers, teachers of technical subjects, stenographers, critics, inspectors of all types, draftsmen, graphic artists, technical illustrators, crafts-people, specialists.

Health occupations and the social services, mental health workers, therapists, psychiatrists, psychoanalysts, social workers, employment counselors, nurses, doctors, massage therapists, respiratory techairians, dental hygienists, dentists, secretaries, office managers, food service worker, nutritionist, waiters and waitresses, dieticians, veterinarians, zoologist, sanitation workers, janitors, public health officials, house cleaners, butlers.

♎️➡️ Vocations that pursue balance, harmony and justice: negotiators and counselors of all types, marriage counselors, wedding related businesses, diplomats, labor arbitrators, judges, lawyers, managers, salespeople.

Occupations dealing with beauty: artists, architects, painters, illustrators, photographers, fashion designers, fashion industry workers, milliners, color consultants, clothing store owners or salespeople, beauticians, hairdressers, cosmeticians, interior and exterior decorators, cosmetic manufacturers and dealers, jewelers, florists, candy makers.

♏️➡️ Vocations that focus on uncovering hidden secrets: researchers, muckraking journalists, investigators, detectives, physicists, occultists, those who work behind the scenes, espionage agents, psychics, astrologers, all matters dealing with death, funeral home directors, morticians, cemetery workers, insurance salespeople, soldiers, those working under the earth, undertakers.

Those who work as healers. all medical practitioners, physicians, nurses, psychiatrists, psychologists, surgeons, pharmacists, pathologists, past-life investigators, hospice workers, chemists, music therapist, musicians.

♐️➡️ Vocations dealing with exploration, travel and adventure: explorers, astronomers, travel agents, airline employees, flight attendants, astronauts, import-export agents, foreign correspondents, language interpreters, traveling salespeople, promoters, customs officers, athletes of all types, archers, sporting goods manufacturers, horse trainers, breeders and jockeys.

Occupations dealing with higher knowledge: philosophers, college professors, ministers, theologians, missionaries, preachers, orators, publishers, metaphysical writers, philanthropists, lawyers.

♑️➡️ Vocations dealing with administering and organizing: administrators of all types, managers, business owners, executives, government officials, politicians, judges, manufacturers, coordinators, principals at schools, wardens, disciplinarians, buyers, consul-tants, vocational counselors.

Occupations that work with form and structure: architects, contractors, builders, carpenterivil and rivil and get industrial engineers, economists, chiropractors, orthopedic specialists, osteopaths, miners, landowners, mountain climbers.

♒️➡️ Vocations dealing with progress and inven-tion: inventors, scientists, educators, researchers, astrologers, social workers, psychologists, futurists, humanitarians, social reformers, United Nations workers, employees of world relief organizations, future-oriented occupations, astronauts, airplane pilots, aviators, parachutists, hang glider pilots, solar energy researchers, physicists, radio and television technicians, electricians, electrical engineers.

♓️➡️ Vocations of a spiritual, healing or artistic na-ture: religious workers, priests, monks, nuns, sisters of mercy, rabbis, clairvoyants, mediums, charity workers, prison workers.

Physicians, faith healers, psychic healers, nurses, hospital workers, psychiatrists, psychologists, hypnotists, anesthesiologists, podiatrists. Poets, musicians, writers (inspirational, fantasy, metaphysical, science fiction), actors, dancers, painters, artists, entertainers, comedians, singers, filmmakers.

Water-related activities, fishermen, sailors, divers, swimmers, lifeguards, marine scientists, oceanographers, bartenders, oil industry workers.

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

Is your Venus sign all you need to know to find all the clues and perfect descriptions to tailor your ideal professional life? No, but it is a huge start in a small way and with short information.

If you guys would like to go more in depth with career astrology, then also take your time to check the following, and find the common theme:

•10H sign + where its lord is located

•D10 Lagna (Dasamsa chart)

•Mahadasha planet in your chart, the house its located, and where the lord goes.

[diamondoffaith]

ALL SO BAD ANALYSIS

surprise surprise its me again. there isnt a set theory on this one this time i think? just expanding on the previous theories (hence why the header says analysis and not theory)

read these to understand this post: Ever Red theory, Cielomort's death

Last updated: Jan 15 2024

Full English lyrics

LYRICS

No One Is Recalling + Make it "NOIR"

No one remembers the Noir Bouquet OR Noir Bouquet doesn't want to be remembered. The SEEDs affected their continent too much. They've been fighting them off for years, but fail once they reach Hallritt, leading to the overall disaster. Notice how "NOIR" is in quotations. "Make it so that no one remembers."

"Six souls are worth a hundred." Six souls could save hundreds of lives, but hundreds of lives could also end because of the actions of the Six souls.

Badobarm isn't letting himself be corrupted by SEEDs, even though it seems to already be overwhelming him.

The damage has already been done to Noir's continent. Now, they're spectators to what will happen to the Red and Blue bouquets like a show.

They also mention being "upside down" a few times. Being upside down usually means that things aren't as they seem which definetely fits Noir. They're hiding something from the other bouquets.

MV

Both Ever Red and All So Bad have glitch effects, while Aozora no Memory doesn't. The damage has already been done to the Blue Bouquet with Cielomort's death, leaving Red and Noir being spied on by SEEDs.

There's a quick shot of a moon probably in the first quarter. A first quarter moon can mean a call to action.

The sun (Hallritt) brings warmth and comfort, guiding the way, but the moon (Badobarm) is always chasing behind the sun, carrying the weight of the dark and scary things night brings (unwanted memories). They stay in the same sky (Cielomort), who watches over both them.

This whole clip. Just watch it. Please I love it so much oh my god. I don't even need to explain it it speaks for itself

Oil...????

This line really threw me off when translating but. I swear this makes more sense if you're in the discord server but. We got Jesus Cielomort comparisons. So. Biblical meaning for oil

"We're out of stock on oil" = We're out of luck and solutions

Summary of the "Eldritches"

Eldritt - The cause of everything

Cieldritch - Wants his friends to forget his death and live peacefully, possibly killed by Hallritt

Badoritch (aka el bado <3) - He holds his friends close and is his motivation to fight. Especially if Hallritt killed Cielomort, Badobarm represents the guilt and consequences Hallritt has to face for it

BONUS

Almost all of Arupek's lines are suspicious he's definetely more important to the plot and isnt just a litol babyboy

Hangyon says "ごめん/Sorry" in its kanji form that I don't really see being used often (御免な) and this is what each kanji means

im watching you old man .

"We won't you go away" can be interpreted either way "won't let you go away" or "we want you to go away"

Can't stop to go my way Follow me glow my way Come with me go my way We won't you go away Where have you gone away?

[myloveismineallmine]

Part 3!

Going back to sydcarmy for this one!

This might be the first instance of a romantic song being used with sydcarmy?

Song: In Too Deep- Genesis

Technically, it's only Sydney in this scene. However, contextually, it applies to a situation with Carmy, which is why I'm counting it. (There's a few that are like this I will go over later)

So, plot recap: Carmy is busy dealing with his grief, and he tells Syd to basically reorganize the whole work environment all by herself.

We see this shot of Syd trying to pull herself together in the walk-in, and as she exits, the song begins.

Lyrics over the shots of her with Tina and Ebraheim:

All that time I was searching with nowhere to run to It started me thinking Wondering what I have could make of my life And who'd be waiting

Sydney walks past Marcus, cuts herself on the box cutter, Tina & co ask her if she's okay:

Asking all kinds of questions to myself But never finding the answers Crying at the top of my voice and no one listening

"Crying at the top of my voice and no one listening" is audible as Sydney yells at the staff and tells them she's fine, which is super on the nose.

On Tina:

All this time, I still remember everything you said, ah-ha There's so much you promised, how could I ever forget

The volume grows for this line, so you can really hear the lyrics.

On pot over heating:

Listen, you know I love you, but I just can't take this

Shots of a pigeon and other stuff in the city to establish that we are no longer in the kitchen:

You know I love you, but I'm playing for keeps

The song is abruptly cut off as we see a shot of Carmy, the audio drowned out by the sounds of a train going over tracks.

Kind of a weird cut for the song, since it cuts in the middle of chorus and not in between verses. Like, you're not gonna even play the "But I'm in too deep" part? Damn.

Contextually though, the main chorus "You know I love you, but I just can't take this." was obviously chosen because it fits this scene perfectly. Sydney is having a breakdown because Carmy put her in a really shitty spot. It is technically a love song though? Like, let's not forget that.

I wonder if the choice to cut off the song in the middle of the chorus, especially by being drowned out by a louder sound, was meant to showcase that Carmy was not paying attention to how stressed he was making Sydney. The scene of him they cut to is actually him seeing Nico, who was the person who called him on the phone earlier, reminded him of his dead brother, leaving Carmy to disassociate and leave Sydney on the struggle bus for the subsequent 5 or how ever many minutes of runtime while he goes to al-anon. I didn't really get why they included that sequence before, but it actually makes way more sense after doing this whole breakdown of it.

Bonus song analysis:

Song: Heat Not Hot - Serengeti

Carmy is yelling at Syd about the stock boiling and the onions not being cut and we all feel bad for her.

Don't have the exact lyrics for this song, so I can't break down what the lyrics are in this shot, but the volume does increase as Sydney steps away and starts chopping onions.

How many times I gotta tell you your heat shouldn't've got hot?

How many times you given up, telling me that’s all you got?

It’s not all you got

All you need’s direction

How many times you want the answers for the same questions?

(Tried to write what I heard, may not be 100% accurate.)

How do they find these songs, lol. Such a fitting verse for this scene. Not a love song or anything, but one of many examples of how on the nose a lot of these lyrics are to the story.

[jjmcquade-misc]

Food Products Sold in the U.S. with Insect Flours: A Growing Trend

In recent years, a quiet revolution has been brewing in the U.S. food market: the rise of insect flours. Made from ground insects like crickets, grasshoppers, and mealworms, these flours are popping up in everyday food products, offering a sustainable and nutritious twist on familiar favorites. This article dives into the world of insect flours, spotlighting specific products you can find on American shelves today.

What Are Insect Flours?

Insect flours are powders crafted from dehydrated and finely ground insects. They’re packed with protein, vitamins, and minerals, and they’re increasingly used as an eco-friendly alternative to traditional flours or meat-based proteins. Whether it’s crickets with their nutty flavor or grasshoppers with an earthy kick, these flours are finding their way into a surprising range of foods.

A List of Insect Flour Products

Here’s a roundup of food products sold in the U.S. that feature insect flours as a key ingredient:

Protein Bars Brands like Exo and Chapul have pioneered the use of cricket flour in protein bars. These bars pack a hefty protein punch, often 10 grams or more per serving, and come in flavors like chocolate and peanut butter. They’re marketed as a sustainable snack for gym-goers and eco-conscious eaters alike.

Pasta Cricket and grasshopper flours are giving pasta a high-protein makeover. Bugsolutely offers noodles blending insect flour with traditional ingredients, while Banza has experimented with cricket flour in its gluten-free pasta lineup. The result? A hearty, nutty-tasting pasta that boasts more protein than your average spaghetti.

Baked Goods From cookies to pancakes, insect flours are hitting the bakery aisle. Bitty Foods and Cricket Flours LLC sell baking mixes that use cricket flour, letting home bakers whip up treats with a sustainable edge. Think chocolate chip cookies with a protein boost or brownies that double as a guilt-free indulgence.

Snack Chips For a crunchy fix, brands like Chirps Chips and Seek Food offer chips made with cricket flour. Available in flavors like cheddar and BBQ, these snacks are light, crispy, and surprisingly addictive, proving insects can be just as tasty as potatoes in the chip game.

Protein Powders Fitness buffs can scoop up insect-based protein powders like Griopro Cricket Powder or Entomo Farms’ cricket protein blend. These powders mix easily into smoothies or shakes, delivering a clean, sustainable protein source without the chalky aftertaste of some plant-based alternatives.

Where to Find Them

Ready to give insect flours a try? You can snag these products online through brand websites or retailers like Amazon. Health food stores like Whole Foods and Sprouts often stock them in their snack or specialty sections. Some regional grocery chains and co-ops are also jumping on board, especially in cities with a sustainability bent.

The Buzz Ahead

Insect flour products are still a niche market, but they’re gaining buzz. While some shoppers hesitate at the thought of eating bugs, the tide is turning as more people prioritize nutrition and sustainability. From protein-packed bars to savory chips, these foods are proof that insects might just be the next big thing in American cuisine. So, next time you’re browsing the aisles, why not grab a cricket-flour cookie and take a bite out of the future?

Uncharted Side Effects and Potential Consequences

The integration of insect-based flours into food products has gained traction in Western markets, including the United States, as a sustainable and protein-rich alternative to conventional livestock-derived ingredients. Proponents highlight the low environmental footprint, high nutritional value, and potential to bolster global food security. Yet, beneath this enthusiasm lies a host of unknowns, side effects and consequences of consuming insect-based flours that remain insufficiently explored. This analysis delves into the health, environmental, social, and regulatory dimensions of this emerging trend, emphasizing the need for caution until these uncertainties are resolved.

Health Risks: Allergens, Toxins, and Nutritional Ambiguities

One of the most immediate concerns is the potential for adverse health effects. Insects, such as crickets and grasshoppers, share biological similarities with crustaceans, raising the risk of allergic reactions, particularly for individuals sensitive to shellfish. Cross-reactivity could become a widespread issue, yet research on the allergenic profiles of various insect species is limited. Processing methods like dehydration or grinding may alter these proteins, potentially heightening or reducing risks, but this remains a scientific blind spot.

Beyond allergies, insects can harbor toxins and contaminants. Depending on their diet or habitat, they may accumulate heavy metals, pesticides, or other pollutants, transferring these into the human food chain. While controlled farming can mitigate some risks, the absence of uniform standards across the industry leaves room for inconsistency. Certain species also produce natural defensive chemicals, which, if not neutralized during processing, could pose additional hazards.

Nutritionally, insects offer protein, vitamins, and minerals, but their bioavailability, how well these nutrients are absorbed, is not well-documented. Chitin, a component of insect exoskeletons, may act as fiber but could also hinder nutrient uptake. Without long-term studies, the impact of sustained insect consumption on human health remains speculative, potentially concealing deficiencies or imbalances.

Environmental Uncertainties: Beyond the Sustainability Narrative

Insect farming is praised for its minimal resource demands compared to traditional livestock, yet scaling it up introduces environmental risks we have yet to fully assess. Mass production could lead to monocultures, reducing biodiversity and increasing susceptibility to disease outbreaks that might spill over into wild populations. The feed used, often waste or byproducts, may strain agricultural systems if demand surges, challenging sustainability claims. Energy-intensive climate control in farms could further erode environmental benefits if not powered renewably.

A less-discussed risk is the potential for farmed insects to escape and become invasive species. Non-native insects disrupting local ecosystems could alter food webs and outcompete native fauna, a threat amplified by underdeveloped containment and regulatory measures in nascent insect-farming regions.

Social and Cultural Ramifications: Equity at Stake

The global rise of insect-based foods also carries social implications. In regions where insects are a traditional staple, commercialization for Western markets risks overharvesting wild populations or appropriating cultural practices without fair benefit-sharing. Industrialized farming could sideline small-scale producers, deepening inequalities in the food system. Meanwhile, in affluent markets, insect flours are often marketed as premium products, unlikely to address food insecurity broadly and potentially exacerbating access disparities.

Regulatory Voids: Safety in Question

The regulatory landscape for insect-based foods is nascent and uneven. In the U.S., the FDA provides some guidance, but it lacks specificity, there are no standardized tests for insect-specific allergens or contaminant limits. Long-term safety data is virtually nonexistent, leaving consumers vulnerable to chronic risks like toxin accumulation or delayed allergic responses. Inconsistent labeling further complicates matters, as some products obscure insect content, undermining informed consumer choice.

Conclusion: Proceed with Prudence

Insect-based flours hold promise as a sustainable protein source, but their adoption must be tempered by the side effects and consequences we have yet to fully understand. Health risks like allergies and toxin exposure, environmental pitfalls such as biodiversity loss, social inequities, and regulatory gaps all underscore the need for rigorous research and robust oversight. Until these unknowns are addressed, the enthusiasm for insect flours should be balanced with a commitment to safeguarding human health, ecosystems, and cultural integrity.

[bigasscontinent]

5.23.2025 missed meteorite dream with girl and first tarot spread in a long while

M A Y 23

I want to copy paste some of my other recent dreams and also go into an analysis of the spread I did on the 6th. It fit pretty nicely in the last month.

I just wanna be myself agaiinnnn.

May 6 2025: 

I lit some incense and relaxed a bit with deep breathing then shuffled my Ethereal deck by something visions I forgot the name lolol. There wasn’t a specific spread template calling out to me so I just meditated and came to the idea of an anchor. What’s my anchor? Feels like the fabric of time almost kind of slips from me sometimes, making it difficult to feel like my brain is in my body.

Anyways, once I finally felt ready I split the deck into 3 stacks. I pulled a card from the top of each one but did it reversed for whatever reason. Just felt right I guess lol. From left to right: Judgement, The Tower, and The Empress.

Right off the bat, I noticed that the perspective switch in The Tower felt personal. I’m not sure how to explain it exactly but it was like instead of seeing someone fall out of a tower, I was up close and there falling with them.

After examining the spread, I flipped them all. Now, I was back at watching the descent. Thinking back it does feel like it reminded me that “zooming out” of situations, like Tower moments lol, reveals the bigger picture which includes a sort of mindset expansion. Annnd in a way, it is an anchor.

This is the dream I had on May 16, the most vivid one I've had since then.

Notes: 

The boss and my work in the dream was not the same as in waking life. I think my job was mainly stocking a convenience store and otherwise helping the owner.

The girl was maybe about 10 and wore a light colored dress, maybe beige?

Time of day was either late afternoon or dusk.

—

A meteorite was going to appear in the city. Gatherings were planned on the bridges throughout the city to watch.

I was rushing to finish some work up so that I could meet with a girl on one of the said bridges. My boss allowed me to leave early and I rushed to meet her. I was afraid of arriving late.

I ran up to the middle of the bridge. She had come from the other side and didn’t cross all the way to the center so I met her where she was. We both looked up to the sky, searching for the expected spectacle. However, the meteorite didn’t pass before I woke up.

The girl wasn’t exactly a family member but we had a personal relationship that felt pretty close to family. I wanted to see her happy by accompanying her to the viewing. I felt a very strong sense of wanting to protect her. 

The main appeal of the meteorite was that it supposedly sang as it streaked by, that or it made a certain loud sound.

I submitted this dream to a podcast and it was actually picked! Their input was super valued. One of the insightful things they had to say was the connection between the meteorite and the Judgement card. There’s an impact associated with meteorites, causing subsequent damage. The singing could also relate to the sound of the angel’s trumpets. Judgement for me is mostly internal, so the individual’s own feelings about themselves. It’s a reminder that we can’t hide from ourselves. The more we try, the harder the shame/pain is.

While typing this out I remembered a part of another dream a while ago. I was working as a stocker in a supermarket. I felt super lonely and like I’ve been there forever when a new girl was introduced. Management had her shadow me and we chatted it up. I felt a sort of warmth filling up my chest because I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

I wonder if there’s any personal connection to the act of stocking by myself. That’s a good prompt for another day.

How does it feel to stock, or otherwise work, by myself?

As for last night’s dream, all I could recall was that there was a tiny Jamba Juice either right behind my work or behind one of the cafes. I wishhhh that was the case.

[pallastrology]

january notes

(trying out something new for the new year, kind of general vibes and advice for the month, let me know what you think! <3)

this is a month of assessment and analysis. with the sun moving through capricorn into aquarius, the month may feel quite heavy at times; whether that's down to pressure, despondence or the feeling of being slammed back down to reality against your will, the month may feel a bit draining. the vibes for this month are earthy, with lots of capricorn and virgo, and some taurus too, being significant signs this month. it's a great time to take stock of your possessions, your goals and situation, and figure out where you want to go from here. you may feel tempted to overspend due to jupiter in taurus, but remember what really matters to you and what aligns with your goals. that's not to say you can't treat yourself now and again, but ask yourself, is this particular treat worth the investment?

all that earth can feel dull and lead to burnout at work or home, trying to perfect everything. remember, it's the start of the year! venus spends most of the month in sagittarius, bringing some enthusiasm and curiosity, while the middle of january brings the moon and neptune together in lyrical pisces. you have plenty of time to do what you need to do, progress over perfection all the way. earth signs can get a reputation for being unimaginative but i believe they're brilliant creatives, so tap into that side of yourself and start creating; try out bullet journalling if you're not 'classically' creative, or invest - with caution, of course - in a hands-on hobby that yields a tangible result; cooking, crochet, gardening, painting...

after the holidays i always find i feel physically tired and just not my best, and capricorn season is, in my opinion, a great time to get back to myself. i know there's a lot of pressure around this time of year to start crazy diets and fitness routines and buy £££ of skincare, but really, the best thing we can do for our bodies is to accept them as they are while striving for the healthiest version of that body. work out in a way that is manageable for you because you feel good afterwards, eat well because it's nourishing and tasty, double cleanse because you like that clean feeling afterwards; but don't blindly trust people who make their living off of making people insecure. do your research and come to your own conclusions, then invest your time and resources accordingly.

[tubetrading]

Key Factors to Consider When Selecting an IBR Fittings and Flanges Supplier in Gujarat

In the rapidly evolving industrial landscape of Gujarat, choosing the right supplier for IBR fittings and flanges is crucial for ensuring the safety, efficiency, and longevity of your operations. Whether you are a manufacturing company, a power plant, or part of the chemical industry, sourcing the best components plays a pivotal role in your project's success.

With several options available in the market, how do you select the most reliable IBR fitting and flanges supplier in Gujarat? What differentiates a good IBR fitting and flanges dealer in Vadodara from the rest? In this blog, we’ll explore the key factors you must consider when choosing the right partner for your industrial piping and pressure component needs.

1. Compliance with IBR Standards:

The foremost factor to consider is compliance with Indian Boiler Regulations (IBR). These regulations govern the design, material, fabrication, inspection, and certification of components used in boilers and piping systems.

An ideal IBR fitting and flanges distributor in Vadodara should provide products that are fully compliant with IBR norms. Look for suppliers who can offer you third-party inspection certificates and IBR approvals, ensuring you meet legal and safety standards.

2. Product Range and Inventory Availability:

A dependable IBR fitting and flanges supplier in Gujarat should have a comprehensive product range. Whether you require elbows, tees, reducers, sockets, weld neck flanges, blind flanges, or slip-on flanges, the supplier should be able to fulfill diverse needs under one roof.

Additionally, consistent stock availability ensures that your project timelines are not disrupted. A well-stocked IBR fitting and flanges dealer in Vadodara can offer quicker deliveries and reduce downtime, which is critical for industries with tight schedules.

3. Quality Assurance and Certifications:

Quality is non-negotiable when it comes to high-pressure piping systems. Choose a supplier who follows strict quality assurance protocols and is certified by reputed institutions such as ISO, BIS, or PED.

The best IBR fitting and flanges distributors in Vadodara will have a dedicated quality inspection team and in-house testing facilities for hydro testing, ultrasonic testing, chemical analysis, and dimensional inspection. Such practices ensure that you receive durable and high-performance products.

4. Technical Expertise and Customization:

Every industry has unique requirements. Hence, your supplier should have the technical knowledge to provide custom solutions based on pressure ratings, material grades, or design specifications.

A trusted IBR fitting and flanges supplier in Gujarat will have experienced engineers who can advise you on the right specifications and even develop tailored components if needed. This technical support can save you from costly errors and mismatches during installation

5. Competitive Pricing and Transparent Quotations:

Cost plays a crucial role in the supplier selection process. While it is tempting to go for the lowest quote, it is important to ensure that quality is not compromised. A professional IBR fitting and flanges dealer in Vadodara will offer competitive rates with complete transparency in pricing.

Look for suppliers who provide detailed quotations outlining material grades, sizes, delivery timelines, and payment terms clearly. This helps in avoiding hidden costs and budget overruns.

6. Timely Delivery and Logistics Support:

Delayed deliveries can impact the entire project timeline. Choose a supplier known for prompt and reliable delivery services. A reputed IBR fitting and flanges distributor in Vadodara often has a strong supply chain network and logistics support to ensure on-time delivery, even to remote project locations in Gujarat.

Suppliers with in-house warehousing and transportation arrangements add an extra layer of convenience, especially for large volume or urgent orders.

7. After-Sales Service and Support:

A professional supplier’s responsibility doesn't end after the sale. Post-delivery support, installation guidance, and handling of warranty claims are part of a comprehensive customer service experience.

Choose an IBR fitting and flanges supplier in Gujarat who offers dedicated after-sales support and is available for quick assistance in case of technical or delivery issues. This ensures a smooth and hassle-free experience throughout your project lifecycle.

8. Customer Reviews and Market Reputation:

Before finalizing your supplier, it’s wise to research their market reputation. Online reviews, testimonials, and references from industry peers can give you an idea about the supplier’s reliability and service standards.

A well-established IBR fitting and flanges dealer in Vadodara with a proven track record is more likely to meet your expectations than a relatively unknown vendor. You can also ask the supplier for client references and project portfolios to gauge their experience.

9. Location Advantage and Local Presence:

Proximity matters when it comes to industrial supplies. Working with a local IBR fitting and flanges distributor in Vadodara has its benefits—lower transportation costs, quicker delivery, and easy coordination.

Moreover, a local supplier who understands regional business dynamics can offer better support and responsiveness compared to distant vendors.

10. Sustainability and Responsible Sourcing:

In today's environmentally conscious world, it is important to work with suppliers who follow sustainable manufacturing and responsible sourcing practices. Ask your IBR fitting and flanges supplier in Gujarat about their efforts towards energy efficiency, waste management, and eco-friendly packaging.

Industries are increasingly adopting green practices, and associating with responsible suppliers enhances your company’s sustainability goals and reputation.

Conclusion:

Choosing the right IBR fitting and flanges dealer in Vadodara is a critical decision that can impact the safety, cost, and efficiency of your entire operation. By considering the factors mentioned above—quality, compliance, technical expertise, service, and reputation—you can build long-term partnerships that support your business growth.

If you are looking for a reliable and experienced IBR fitting and flanges supplier in Gujarat, trust TubeTrading to meet your needs with quality, commitment, and customer satisfaction. As a leading IBR fitting and flanges distributor in Vadodara, we are dedicated to providing industry-grade solutions that meet IBR standards and exceed client expectations.