#i am going to get the Evil Alter out here so he can beat you to death.

[0809sysblings]

idk why I'm posting this here but it's fine because I can do whatever I want. sorry I think I'm having an enneagram type 1 moment. it's not mental illness, it's because of my enneagram type! can't help being a Gemini Enneagram Type 1

also I keep using the amulet's powers so I've been being hit with the after effects. such power deranges a man /ref

[givemeanaccountalready]

A Who-Swung-It Mystery: The Case of the Switch-Hitter (1/3)

1 / 2 / 3

Despite the humorous title, I want to be serious for a second. I am not a licensed psychologist/psychiatrist/licensed social worker/etc., and I am certainly not an expert on dissociative identity disorder (DID). My knowledge of this disorder comes from the research I have done to try and understand it. I am trying to be as respectful as possible towards the subject matter, and I sincerely apologize if I show a lack of understanding and will do my best to correct it. I want to focus on switching, since we don't really have much information on Mikoto's childhood that led to him developing this disorder and I do not want to speculate. I only say childhood and not adulthood because the literature I found suggests that it is rather rare for this already rare disorder to form past the age of ten. Mikoto could be one of those special cases, but we'll have to wait and see.

Now, before you begin violently shaking me over the length of this post, just know that I am sorry about it. I want to argue that Mikoto’s DID is a red herring. Despite his claims otherwise, John did not directly kill anyone, Mikoto did. Through the voice dramas and the music videos, we get to see both Mikoto and John's individual perspectives and personalities. From what we've seen in MeMe and Double and then heard during John Doe and Neoplasm, I think I figured out what happened the night of the murder.

Fun fact before the post cut: in Japanese, the kanji for baseball are combine the kanji for field and ball (野球) and is read as ‘Kakyu’. The number nine in Japanese is read as ‘kyu’ or ‘ku’ and our baseball-loving prisoner, Mikoto, is prisoner number nine.

Okay, now you can begin violently shaking me.

Milgram's Very Own Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: Subverting the Evil Alter Trope

Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a tale that lives in infamy, and here in the West, it is synonymous with dual personalities. Published in 1886, the story is meant to be an allegory regarding good and evil. Pop culture osmosis usually has it right that Dr. Jekyll accidentally created Mr. Hyde in a lab accident, but here's the thing, it's more of a happy accident than a “Well, the risk I took was calculated but man, I’m bad at math,” one. Dr. Jekyll is a respectable, older gentleman who meant to erase his "shameful urges" (the story never explains what they are exactly, just that they go against the Victorian moral code) and accidentally created Mr. Hyde. As Mr. Hyde, Jekyll is a younger, shorter man whose only identifying feature is that everyone immediately hates him. That is not a joke. People who ran into Hyde can’t really describe him other than having the gut instinct to avoid him. But more importantly, I need you to know that Dr. Jekyll had spent most of the story voluntarily transforming himself into Mr. Hyde so he could give into those shameful urges and then used his wealth as Dr. Jekyll to sweep any trouble that arose back under the rug.

Besides being physically different, the main difference between Jekyll and Hyde is that Hyde lacks Jekyll's morals and inhibitions. Jekyll delights in the freedom he can experience as Hyde, until as Hyde, he beats a man to death with a cane. A few months before the murder, Jekyll had started to realize that he did not have as much control over Hyde as he previously thought and went two months without drinking the transformation tonic. As Jekyll puts it, in a moment of weakness, (yes, it reads like an allegory about substance abuse) Jekyll takes the tonic, transforms into Hyde, and since Hyde is pissed over being locked up for so long, he exercised his frustrations on a rich man's head.

Historically, the nineteenth century is when psychologists started arguing over the existence of multiple personalities, and the public back then was as fascinated with it as it is now. And I can't believe that we're nearing The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde's 150th anniversary, and the evil alternate personality trope is still going strong! I swear to you, it seems like DID is only ever brought up in conjunction with stories involving a murder(s), and the resolution is always, the evil alter committed it. I only know one example (Primal Fear (1996)) where the evil alter didn't do it, but that was because of the twist ending!

Besides wanting the novelty of the core having killed someone rather than the 'evil' alter, I think it would fit in with Milgram's dedication to emphasizing that each prisoner is an individual with their good points and bad. No one is 100% good, or bad, or anything else (Jackalope is 100% chaotic neutral, but he is a mythical creature, not a human, so shh). They have dominant traits that may influence their actions, but as in reality, things aren't black and white. It would make sense for Mikoto and John to reflect this. Mikoto is not 100% good and John is not 100% evil. They both have good and bad traits.

I think that the first trial shows it much better than the second, but Mikoto's main problem is how he constantly denies that anything is troubling him. Es calls him out on it explicitly during Neoplasm. Mikoto’s response is, “Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end,” explaining that the pretending helps him cope. It may not be the healthiest coping mechanism, but it is what he does. The most recent example of this not actually helping anyone is during Mikoto’s 2023 birthday timeline conversation. Mikoto questions himself to see if John really does exist and then he angrily blames John, only for John to front long enough to yell that he did it to save them. John disappears and Mikoto tells himself that that was useless, and that he’s tired and should stop thinking so hard about it. John has repeated quite a few times during Neoplasm and in that timeline conversation that he did it because Mikoto couldn’t handle it. The implication is that it is referring to the stress that built up and led to the murder. I agree with John that Mikoto’s decision to continue putting his head in the sand and to bottle up all his stress would have led to a breakdown. Everyone has a limit, and it is clear that Mikoto was rapidly approaching his. I don't disagree with that at all. What I disagree with is John's claim that he is solely responsible for the murder, because his existence does not make him purely evil and Mikoto's purely good. To think so is to play right into the black-and-white dichotomy of morality and play directly into Yamanaka's hands.

Despite his more sadistic tendencies, John does have some positive traits. We know he cares deeply for Mikoto and wants to protect him, even if his actions aren't acceptable. In Neoplasm, we’ve even heard John express some pride over being a college graduate, something Mikoto has previously downplayed when asked questions by Amane. We’ve seen in timeline conversations that Mikoto is capable of expressing annoyance and exasperation (with Fuuta) as well as anger (at John in the above timeline conversation). John can be cruel and aggressive, but he is active in asserting himself. Meanwhile, Mikoto is considerate to others to the point of his own detriment and is rather passive when it comes to conflict. Just because Mikoto seems to have more desirable character traits than John doesn’t make Mikoto incapable of committing a violent act.

Now, onto the murder, what could lead to Mikoto killing somebody?

"Communism was just a red herring." - Clue (1985)

I firmly believe that John is full of shit. Despite the number of destroyed mannequins, there is only one murder victim: the blond fellow we see at the beginning of MeMe. And just like in the cult classic, Clue (1985), I think the motive was blackmail.

Remember Mikoto's glitched line from the second voice trailer? "DESTROY EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!" I don't know if this is just an accepted fan theory or if it had been confirmed, but it is believed that the lines from the second voice trailer happen before the murder takes place. If it had taken place after the murder occurred, then everything would most likely reference the evidence of the murder. But this takes place before the murder happened. Sure, it could be John's need for one of those rage rooms, but if I'm being honest, I think it was blackmail that could have gotten Mikoto fired from his job. Despite the amount of stress his current job causes him, Mikoto has stated over and over again that he worked very hard to get into the best company in the advertising business, and in his Trial Two interrogation questions, he has stated that he will not leave his current job because he believes that his efforts will eventually be rewarded. Mikoto is fine with being uncomfortable if he believes it will lead to future benefit (AKA, no pain, no gain).

From what I understand about Japan's work culture, getting fired puts a black stain on your record and makes it extremely difficult to find a new job. Getting fired by a top-tier advertising agency isn't just losing his dream job, but possibly destroying any chance of Mikoto gaining any opportunity or prestige for the rest of his career. All his hard work will be for naught. There are plenty of real-world instances where someone lost their job or lost their college acceptance because of poor behavior on the individual's part. If the blond victim had evidence of Mikoto acting badly, regardless of whether it was Mikoto or John fronting, Mikoto's boss could fire him, ruining his chances of ever being rewarded for his hard work. People have certainly killed for less in the real world.

Personally, I lean towards the blackmail being something John did, although this comes from Mikoto's line from Undercover: "Don't lie about me / what did I do?" If Mikoto cannot remember anything from when John fronts and he is aware of his forgetful spells, then not only would Mikoto question whether the blackmail had been doctored but also he'd wonder if there is a hint of truth to it. Remember Mikoto's words to Fuuta, "You're a uni student, right? You can't act like that once you start working properly," as if the angry behavior from Fuuta is only normal until a certain age. Perhaps Mikoto took part in some bad behavior in the past. More likely than not, it’s John in the blackmail. T1Q11 answer states, "Yes, I am [someone who takes others into consideration]. I'm a working adult. Communicating makes work easier." It's almost ironic how his boss constantly texting him and inconsideration causes Mikoto problems, and because he is the new guy and subordinate, Mikoto can't exactly tell his boss to fuck off.

His T1Q10 answer better lays out his beef with Fuuta's behavior: "I don't think I've ever gotten angry before. Isn't it kind of disgraceful to get angry?" Now, Mikoto is a very go-along-to-get-along kind of guy and Fuuta is not. He could be telling the truth that he has never gone into a blind rage (that Mikoto remembers), but to say he has never felt anger is most likely a lie.

Here is how I think the murder went down. At the beginning of MeMe, we see Mikoto waiting in a dark, secluded area near the train tracks. His hair is mostly covered by the beanie and we cannot make out his expression whatsoever, so there is no clue to tell us who is fronting between Mikoto and John. Mikoto does not appear to have a bat on his person or around him, and it seems like he is holding his phone. The blond victim could have just been a stranger walking by, but I think that he was an old friend of Mikoto's from high school or college and was supposed to meet with him. As peers who are supposed to be working adults, Mikoto is under the impression that whatever this is, they can just talk it out. This is all just one big misunderstanding.

Maybe the blond victim even brought the bat for an intimidation factor. Maybe Mikoto brought it just in case. I lean towards the former because you would notice misplacing your own baseball bat (they can get really expensive) is hard to not notice, and the whole thing is easier to deny if you don't even own the murder weapon in the first place. Whatever the case, the blond reveals his blackmail and demands payment or else it's getting sent to Mikoto's boss. Mikoto sees nothing but red, screams at his old friend to destroy all of the blackmail, take the bat, and then swings. The first blow hits the victim's lower back, just like how it hit Es in Undercover, and it is enough to render the victim's legs useless, forcing him to try and crawl away rather than run. Mikoto raises the bat well over his head and brings it down again, killing the victim.

With no one around but his now deceased victim, the red haze lifts and Mikoto realizes what he just did, prompting the first trial glitched line, which is believed to take place after the murder, "My life... it wasn't supposed to be this way." The heartbreak is too much to bear. John takes over and is the one to bury the body, dispose of the evidence, and clean Mikoto up. When Mikoto wakes up the next day, he can disregard it as a bad dream: "All I did was dream / And that's what you found GUILTY?"

Pretty words, but empty ones, I know. Where's my proof? I'm glad you asked. :)

Switch-Hitting

Let's start out with the murder weapon: the baseball bat.

In baseball, a switch-hitter is someone who can bat left- and right-handed. Switch-hitters are prized by coaches, because batters have a higher chance of hitting the ball when they swing opposite of the pitcher; meaning a left-handed batter has a better chance of hitting a ball thrown by a right-handed pitcher than the right-handed batter against that same pitcher. There can be switch-pitchers (someone who can throw left- and right-handed), but because Mikoto's murder weapon seems to be the baseball bat, I'm going to focus on the way he swings the bat. As previously stated, during the third chorus of Undercover, we see Mikoto's silhouette bludgeon Es with a baseball bat.

Now, it has been a while since I've played baseball and softball, but I do still own a bat and I believe that that is a left-handed swing. A left-handed batter would have their left hand positioned above the right hand and the bat would have been held over their left shoulder. When they swing, they step in and turn towards their right to complete the swing. That is what Mikoto is doing in this picture. I tried to mimic the swing, but I am a right handed batter, so it feels awkward when I do it. Right-handed batters are more common that left-handed hitters, and in Double, we see Mikoto/John bat both ways, making him a switch-hitter. In the US, a switch-hitter has to pick one side to hit from during the time he is at bat, meaning that say he batted right, then swung and missed twice (two strikes, one more and he's out), he can’t switch to bat left. He can switch to bat left the next time he is up at bat, but he cannot switch positions once he steps up to the plate. I can’t find much on Japan’s rules about switch-hitting, but there’s a ton of articles about a high school player who kept switching positions for every pitch during the same at bat (pissing off the Americans in the comments section). Now, I can’t speak for professional baseball in Japan, but I guess switching positions during the same at bat is allowed at the level Mikoto played (high school). I do feel confident in stating that the Mikoto featured in Undercover has a left-handed swing. But Gimme, what does that have to do with switch-hitting? Switch-hitting involves batting both ways.

If you continue to closely watch the opening of MeMe, while Mikoto holds the bat in his left hand, but when he readies himself for the overhead swing, Mikoto has his right hand over his left, something a right-handed batter would do. I actually made a list of when we see Mikoto swing the bat, and it seems that when Mikoto swings the bat normally (like how he would in a game), he usually bats left-handed. I could only find one instance of Mikoto holding the bat right-handed as though he were up to bat.

Left-Handed Batting:

at 3:04 in Undercover

at 0:30 in MeMe

at 0:58 in Double

at 1:29 in Double

Right-Handed Batting:

at 1:26 in Double

Buuuut, when we see Mikoto swing the bat abnormally, he uses his right hand to guide the swing as if he were batting right-handed. His right hand is above his left (which is normal positioning for a right-handed swing) when he does the overhead swing in MeMe at 0:37, and when he swings the bat one handed during Double, it is with his right-hand.

Your dominant hand isn't what determines your batting stance. Generally, it's a good indicator, but it's not set in stone thanks to cross-handedness. Cross-handedness is when you use your dominant hand for certain activities and your non-dominant hand for others. But if it matters, Mikoto is right-handed. Most of his actions in both songs involve his right-hand. If you watch MeMe, the only time Mikoto uses his left hand is to move the camera at the beginning and end of the song, and then to pick up the Death tarot card at the very end of the song. In Double, the only time he uses his left hand is when he swings the bat. Also, his shoulder bag is on his left shoulder in both MeMe and Double, and generally, purses and shoulder bags rests on your non-dominant side to give your dominant hand easy access.

Like I said, Mikoto being right-handed doesn't necessarily translate to him batting right-handed. Now, I'm no baseball expert, but I don't think his left-handed swings are all that good. They look 'jerky' to me. We don't see Mikoto complete a right-handed swing; we only see him hold the bat as if he is waiting for a pitch and the positioning seems natural. And there is something that I want to point out. You can train yourself to become a switch-hitter. I am not kidding when I say that switch-hitters are coveted. I think it would be in-character of Mikoto to naturally bat right-handed but try to teach himself how to bat left-handed so that he can become a switch-hitter. He is someone who knows what they want and creates a ten-step plan to get it, (see his "I wanted this job so I chose this art college with this degree"). He also believes in hard work being rewarded, so if he successfully trains himself to become a switch-hitter, his coach will reward him with more playing time (in this case, move him up the batting list). Mikoto is also self-effacing, so when he puts himself down, it needs to be questioned. Are his claims about not being good at baseball an example of his low self-esteem affects his perception of himself, or was he just plain bad because he was batting from the wrong side? He could just plain suck at baseball, but his abnormal, right-handed swings are smooth and controlled. It makes me think he bats right naturally, and that his left-handed swings are him practicing to get better at switch-hitting.

Unlike Mikoto, John is not patient. He would not bother with a swing he is not comfortable with. We saw that in John Doe as they are quick to taunt Es and lash out at them and Kotoko. John did not try to retreat and figure out a strategy to best Kotoko, an experienced fighter, he just went for it. I can only assume he wised up during his fight with Kotoko and that's why she couldn't knock him out a second time. This impulsive, fiery temper reappears in Neoplasm, when John mock Es for chaining Mikoto and for the name they gave him, and then as Es stalls during John's prodding of what will happen to Mikoto, John begins shouting at Es to answer him. I would probably split the two this way: while Mikoto is proactive with his willingness to think ahead and shortchange himself for the chance of being rewarded in the future, John is reactive and his impulsiveness leads to short-term thinking that can screw over Mikoto.

Here's Mikoto in Neoplasm: "I wonder if it's like... some kind of sleepwalking...? After all, I've been losing sleep more and more often recently... Man... It's really troublesome, isn't it?...Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end, right? I'm pretty good at that. Making things work out to the best of my abilities." At this point, he can no longer deny that nothing is wrong, and Mikoto is now forced to seriously consider just what is going on when he has these forgetful spells and falls asleep. Something is wrong, and he is trying to follow his usual protocol of smiling and quietly figuring out how to make things turn out for the best. Except it is not working in Milgram, triggering John's appearance in Neoplasm.

John is surprised by Es's acceptance of the situation, and even says, "I'd just think it's a lie someone came up with to get away with murder." As he and Es continue to talk, John asks Es why they think he was born and confirms that his role is to protect Mikoto from harm. Es is the one to bring up the murder, and suddenly, the chatty John is giving short, vague responses, reiterating that he is the murderer, not Mikoto. Here's some of it, "Yeah, it's me. I killed them off... They annoyed me [so I killed them]... Just someone [a stranger] who was walking around nearby... Can't remember [how many I killed]." When Es demands to know how John can be so calm, John changes the subject to find out what will happen to Mikoto. When Es cannot give him a satisfactory answer, John repeats again and again that Mikoto is innocent and that he, John, is at fault, so please forgive Mikoto. I think John would admit to every wrongdoing of Mikoto's if that meant Mikoto's burden would be lifted. It's why I don't trust him. Not only is his confession too vague to be considered admissible, but as Mikoto’s protector, he also has a reason to take the fall. John is not an evil alter, but he is taking advantage of the trope to get Mikoto the Innocent verdict. An Innocent verdict, in John’s mind, will erase most of Mikoto’s current stress. It is too short term, and relies to heavily on Mikoto’s habit of denial. If Mikoto is found Innocent, there is a chance that he may continue to pull his head out of the sand to figure out what is going on so he can learn how to manage or suppress it so his everyday life won't be impacted.

Oh, and one more thing before I end this first part.

That Wasn't Mikoto at the End of Neoplasm, which is why Double differs from MeMe.

John is playing up the idea that he is an evil alter to get Mikoto out of trouble, and the weird behavior shown by 'Mikoto' at the end of Neoplasm is just John attempting to manipulate us. Do you guys remember at the end of John Doe when Mikoto is back in control and is confused and then horrified as to why he’s hurting and why Es is now covered in bruises? From what I’ve read, that confusion is a common sign of personalities having been switched, and so is the memory loss he has experienced. Now compare that to the end of Neoplasm, when John ‘leaves’ and Mikoto comes back and immediately starts guessing what kind of dog Es owns? And how weird that is because Mikoto had started the interview clearly worried over what is going on with him when he is ‘asleep’? I don’t think Mikoto actually came back. I think that that’s John taking advantage of Es being startled by the bell and pretending to be Mikoto and trying to emphasize how harmless Mikoto. Mikoto is just a little guy. How can someone so friendly be a monster?

1 / 2 / 3

[azar-rosethorn]

It's Been 1 Year (Songfic)

Summary: Takes place during season 4. It's the Rowdyruff Boys' birthday, but since they aren't around to celebrate it, their father takes matters into his own hands.

Rated T for the following triggers:

Death, Child Death

Song: It's Been So Long by The Living Tombstone (lyrics have been slightly altered to fit the circumstances)

Lyrics will be in italics and bold

The City of Townsville! Where it's a bright and sunny spring day! All of its citizens were hustling and bustling about in the fresh spring air! The cold, hard winter has passed, and now there's nothing but warmth, love, and happiness in the air all throughout the town!

I don't know what I was thinking, leaving my boys behind

But wait, there seems to be one resident of Townsville who isn't feeling the love and warmth of spring. For this, dear readers, was the one day that one of Townsville's most dramatic, eccentric, and emotional citizens, went numb.

Now I suffer the curse, and now I am blind

Don't let the smell of homemade chocolate cake wandering throughout the volcano fool you, this was not a happy day in the lair of Mojo Jojo. Nor was it overly sad. This day was a bittersweet day, and even with Townies flocking around the park outside having the time of their lives, Mojo Jojo has never felt more alone.

With all this anger, guilt, and sadness coming to haunt me forever

Under different circumstances, today would be a tremendous, splendid, and utterly terrific day. Exactly one year ago, Mojo Jojo gathered snips, snails, and a puppy dog's tail to create the Rowdyruff Boys, three superpowered children that were equal in strength, agility, and power to his arch enemies, the Powerpuff Girls. He then sent them to destroy those accursed little girls, hoping he would finally have a chance at beating them this time.

I can't wait for the cliff at the end of the river

Should the boys fail to destroy the Powerpuff Girls, Mojo expected he would be tending to quite a few wounds at best, and at worst plan a rescue heist from some highly secure prison facility.

But never, ever, in a million years. . .

Did he expect to witness not one, not two, but all three of the boys, his boys, die right in front of him. . .

Is this revenge I'm seeking? Or seeking someone to avenge me?

Mojo grabbed the nearest towel and wiped his face as the memories came back. He can forget about a lot of stuff, but the agony on his sons' faces, and the fact that he couldn't go to them and comfort them, tell them that he was here and that things were going to be alright, even though the both knew they weren't, well, that kind of scar stays there forever.

He didn't even get to say goodbye. . .

Stuck in my own paradox, I wanna set myself free

Finally, the cake was done. It was a chocolate cake, with blue, red, and green stripes as frosting, along with blue, red, and green sprinkles scattered across it.

Maybe I should chase and find before they'll try to stop it

Mojo stopped and examined the cake for a bit. "Blue for Boomer," he thought out loud, "Red for Brick, and Green for Butch." The evil chimp was surprised at himself. They boys only told him their names once or twice, and the only time he really took the time to get a good look at them and process what was actually happening was when the four of the celebrated after he thought they destroyed the Powerpuff Girls. He only ever had one photo of them, and that was kept sacred, stored in the one room in his entire lair that he hadn't dared set foot in for almost a year.

It won't be long before I'll become a puppet

With the cake in hand and a sad smile on his face, Mojo made his way to that very room. The room that was going to be the boys' bedroom. The room that should still be their bedroom. The very thought that they would be in there right now, either roughhousing, sleeping in, playing video games, or a combination of all three if it hadn't been for those Heartlesspuff Girls made Mojo Jojo fume with hate.

It's been so long, since I last have seen my son, lost to this monster

Mojo slowly came to a stop as he approached the door. It was very recognizable by the RRB CAVE, KEEP OUT LOSERS that was painted in graffiti-like spray paint on the front of the door. Mojo remembered that before the boys died, the four of them started on making their room, and one of the boys had the idea to do that, though Mojo couldn't really remember which one. Once he got to the door, he stopped, trying to process everything that was happening right now, and what was about to happen as well.

To the girls behind the slaughter

One year. He had endured one year without them.

Since you've been gone

He moved the cake to one hand, and slowly turned the knob with the other. The silence and the tension was quickly cut by the chimp's shaky breath, and the creak of the door as it opened.

I've been singing this stupid song so I could ponder

He looked inside the room. It hadn't changed one bit. The first thing you see when you walk into the Rowdyruff boys' room is they're bed. It was similar to to the Powerpuffs', but instead of pink, lime, and baby blue sheets, the sheets were a blue-ish indigo, scarlet, and forest green, and their headboard was an ebony black with a white skull painted on it. In the drawers inside of Boomer's nightstand was a variety of spraypaints that they could've used to do graffiti across the town. Directly across from the bed was a TV with a game console hooked up to it, along with some video games stashed in the TV stand for safe keeping. To the left of that, in the corner next to the door, was a toy box filled to the brim with trucks, dinosaurs, robots, and who knows what else. To the right of the TV, in the corner by the window, was a punching bag hanging from the ceiling that the boys would've used to train. It even had terrible graffiti of the PPG's faces on it. Even though the window of their bedroom was huge, just like the other ones in the volcano, the room never got much sunlight. Its blood red curtains had been closed so that there was only a sliver of sun escaping through and sprawling out onto the bed, right across its pillows. Boy, the boys would've been annoyed at that if they were sleeping in the bed right now.

But they weren't. . . .

The sanity of your father

Instead there were three glass cases on their dresser. One of them had a single snip of hair, one had a dead snail, and the other had a servered dog tail inside of it. Underneath each glass case was a name. The case with the snip was labled "Boomer", the case with the snail was labled "Butch", and the case with the tail was labled "Brick".

I wish I lived in the present, with the gift of my past mistakes

Mojo set the cake down on the bed and made his way to the dresser. Usually he has a whole dictionary of words at his disposal that he uses repeatedly way more times than necessary, but right now, with his vision becoming blurry from tears that he has given up on wiping away, he could only mutter two.

"Hello, boys."

But the future keep slurring in like a pack of snakes

Suddenly he remembered something. Something Professor Utonium said to him, back when he was a normal monkey, and the Professor's lab assistant. The Professor had told him about his latest project he had been working on. He was trying to create children for himself, specifically little girls. Apparently three "perfect" little girls saved his life when he was younger, and he wanted to create little girls just like them. Mojo never really understood the way he just went on and on about kids that he didn't even know for two days.

"Now, I know you probably think I'm talking like a crazy person since, you know, I've never even truly met these girls that I'm trying to create, but I promise, Jojo, one day, when you have kids of your own, you'll understand. You'll take one look at their precious little faces. . .

Your sweet little eyes, you little smile is all I remember

"and you'll fall in love. You'll do whatever it takes to protect them, and keep them safe. And if anything happened to them, well. . . you'd just absolutely break."

Those fuzzy memories mess with my temper

And he did. Right then. Right there. Mojo Jojo, one of the most goofy, eccentric, and notorious villains in Townsville, broke.

His mind went blank as he started to grab the pillows off of the bed and almost tore them apart. Punching them, kicking them, stomping on them. Then he attcked the punching bag with everything he had, all while his vision was blurred by a river of tears and the room, as well as the hallway were filled with his unintelligible screams, sobs, and wails of agony and fury.

Justification is killing me, but killing isn't justified

He kept at this for a little while before tiring himself out, plopping onto the bed, right next to the cake, and finished his mental breakdown into a pillow, staining it most likely beyond a level of repair. Whatever. It's not like Butch is gonna be using it anymore.

What happened to my sons, I'm terrified

Even after he stopped crying, Mojo continued to lay there. He had a few bites of cake, but for the most part he just laid there, occasionally sniffling every now and then, mindlessly roaming his own thoughts.

It lingers in my mind, and the thought keeps on getting bigger

He imagined where the boys could be now, if they were able to make it to some sort of afterlife, or if they had been reincarnated into someone that would live a full life, or if they were just spirits wandering around Townsville, haunting people. Haunting him. He also thought about what it would've been like if things were different. If those cold-hearted Puffs hadn't resorted to murder. Today would be the best day ever. They'd have a much bigger cake, that's for sure. And ice cream. Oh, you better believe Mojo would spoil those boys rotten with gifts today. He thought about all the heists and crimes the four of them could've gotten away with. He thought about them building a huge, super powerful battle robot together. . .

I'm sorry, my sweet baby, I wish I'd been there

The thought of it turned the faucet in Mojo's eyes back on, and this time, it didn't stop. At least, not for a good while.

It's been so long

Things will be back to normal tomorrow, but for today, just let him grieve.

Since I last have seen my sons

Tomorrow, he would be Mojo Jojo again. Just not today.

Lost to these monsters

Tomorrow, he would be a notorious criminal again. Just not today.

To the girls behind the slaughter

Tomorrow, he will be infamous for his genius evil plans and goofy demeanor. Just not today.

Since you've been gone

Tomorrow, he will be a little more agressive than before, but it won't be anything new. Just, not today.

I've been singing this stupid song

Today, he's a grieving father. Tomorrow, he'll be an evil genius

So I could ponder

A year's worth of bottled up emotions takes its toll on you, so please.

The sanity of your father

Wait for tomorrow.

[olivedoesmagic]

Journal 97: FIND DA WAE (Original song) [Animation by shgurr] | CG5

And we’re back to reality shifting!

I visited another world where Morgan enslaved me and I got sex trafficked. Apparently this was 

his dream reality. He couldn't tell realities apart. As he often can't even here. So I instructed him there that you tell them apart by looking at the time, numbers, and letters. Cus genuine dreams don't have that. But genuinely alternate realities will. If you are seeing those things in your mind your in a canon its an alt, not here. There I revealed I was his dead friend Olive. That I was alive and kicking. And that the key to all this was reality shifting for every daydream is a true shift ESPECIALLY when your advanced enough. He often dreams we still hang out and he's at my house. Idiot doesn't know that's irl and him being my judas is not a fucking dream. 

The monks now know of me via my teapot. And anyways, heroes are coming back here. Long story there. Anyways I stopped a sex trafficking ring by being kidnapped by sex traffickers, and he felt so bad for making me "his genuine slave I just wanted one I'm sorry for me it wasn't sexual there" and then he called the cops, and evil dogs came in from his reality as I told him, "yes I'm Olive and I'm alive I just changed my face Morgan. I regenerated" and he freaked out crying for some reason I deem this reality 2003 two hundred three, based off the weird tap dancing and number games. 

Then the reality forwarded in time. And we were watching tap dancing at a cult we ran here in the mansion they all worshiped me some Morgan buy mainly me they touched my sex and gave us gifts and rubbed my feet. Saying "oh great godess ishtar" it was definitely a cult/religion. They worshiped me though it was Morgan's day there. He likes to be the main character of his own little world, that was my ego there [in that reality]. I had long spiked pink hair there and then I shape shifted into a dog and ran and that was my reality shift. Fucking something huh!

Then I was in Rickies canon beating him to a pulp as he died I was booked and taken in for questioning as they assumed me dead, and they gave me a meal of honor as I was declared the world's first timelord as they shot me publicly and I changed my face! I remember the shifts booking.

"You expect me to believe your Kaito from TV ms.-"

"Santro"

"Mr.santro"

"Yes because it is real and I am not lying to you"

"Cuff him tell him that the terrorist formally know as [real name] is alive and biden’s guy is back"

Then I died president or something all triggered by me murdering my murder and rapist Ricky! Weird aus! Real ass reality shifts. One you get good enough you can do it in your dreams, some people do it unknowingly, and then if that's the case, they learn one day. Most it's a phase and they choose to beleive it was all a dream. I designed our mascs special. We use my alchemy closet and so on! Whooh!

Anyways, as a token dreamer many people i appear to as a dream. NEWS FLASH ASSHOLE there is no such thing as an imaginary friend. I then lashed out possessed by Maleck again not maleck tous malleck. And he brought my rapists and enslavers to tears, betaing them as they had beat me, forcing them to bow as they had me, and forcing them to touch libido as they had me. MALLECK has been doing this for me alot or to me because I have his miraculous those are real, he’s a white peacock tied to my earrings,  and as a result, he errrrr keeps possessing me “to protect you i promise your to weak to protect yourself” and while I am coughing and it is making me sick I think it’s the aids. 

[im so traumatized by it all i have now an alter forming!]

 Oh yeah I got aids. Thing is i’m not very sexualyl active but im going mad, and hallucinating in ways i havent before, and the government long story there, caught in my piss via expeiremetn top secret testing. I was also nearly assantated by the queen of england. WEIRD.

Supernatural scratches and lashing out like a seven year old! Anyways, when I returned home, form all this I played a video game, and explored the black rooms on that game, and recognized an entity i didn’t know i knew, as Kitty from the balck rooms freaked and the SCP foundation noted all this as I am agent but keter now eugclid EYES. that’s my scp name.

I also finally have a picture of wiater.

These are Wiater, Me, Then Acrians in that order, because we are all one gang, and Adam wants photos of everyone. Unfortunately though Adam refuses to pain himself instead using his fuckign actor [also adams] face claim, and saying they are the same person. Jesus christ man I know your fucking but what the hell! YOU ARENT EVEN CHUBBY.

I am.

Regardless here are our group portraits. [sarcastic: yay] Artist: tumanart

waiter [he/him]

 ME [he/him unless were close like that]

Acrians [he/him]

We just so happy to be lucky enough to be spurred into the reality that all other one realities were adjacent of. Reality 1A is where my master acrians is from. I choose to call him that. He hates being called that. BUT I CHOSE IT FOR HIM. He is from a world overrun by nazis destroyed by the “alt right” where disabled people were in camps, and expeirements, and people of color and non christians coudn’t adopt. He came here and taught me reality shifting and pop culture magick saying it was my mantle to own “Godess of Reality” and I was all “you mean god of reality sensei?” he does like being called sensei. And he said “Nope! You’ll see why later!” then he chuckled softly.

Acrians is the one true god, as his aspect sometimes that mantle is given to me, and once or twice I have written from his perspecitve. I am not one of his disciple but rather hsi second skin, a new soul hunting with sam and dean SRJ, and learning all about their world, and negotiating peace between monster and man. But I am not my mentor, I JSUT CANT DO IT THE SAME WAY, and I don’t know if I’m brave enough to keep taking lives like this. Towards the end of the year Dean, SAm, and Acirans and I will all meet in person to stop a wendigo, and save the natives and then teach a new food deal, because Acrians has been there, Sam had been there? OH and that ending people love so much? Was retconed by god with jack on his fishing trip.

This ain’t a fucking fanfic dipshit, this is real ass life, okay hoe? This is the real world, and while I’m negoeting peace with presidents and staying in the bunker with dean till he learns exactly what I am and debates killing me. The aids, the cancer, the tumor, the sendings plagues on gods behalf to fuckign conversion therapy. It’s alot. And now their writing rick and morty episodes about me! Their gona write me in again. Red hair. That’s all I know. With my tails, I have irl. My painting is how I wish to be remembered. Every great figure did. Once you play me I get your face, and you are added to my collection, and then you get my memories my kin timeline, my two bodies, and more!

‘

I WILL BE ON THE SHOW ONE DAY< KEEP ME OLIVE BRIMSTONE IM PUBLIC DOMAIN!

Anyways, I arranged for the doctor who is doctor who to get Matt SMIth, an middle eastern actor, an japanese actor, and bowties and melody my future wife on the show! Time travels odd I’ve never seen doctor who. That’s all Acrians, and Acrians is literally the doctor long story. He built that machine it has his heart in it. IT wasn’t always blue.

The Anchored Road During it’s Sparta or something. It doesn’t stand for time and relative dimension in space, it stands for some weird quote Acrians made up on the spot when they turned “CHARACTER” into fucking the doctor, and one day we’ll be whoel again.

But I like being a splinter. I like being an act, a copy, a pasted, and oh shit jacks here! Well gotta run!

6:12 PM

9/28/22

.

Field way the bunker you the one shitty falg outside in pink and red

[theshelbyclan]

Bells and Smoke

Summary: The youngest Shelby has to be send away to a convent, but you have no intention of conforming to their rules, even if you’ll die in the process

(Gif by @harmon-jane-black​) A/N: Requested by anon: Could I request a Shelby sister where she is sent off to a boarding school and is getting badly bullied by teachers and pupils for being what they think is Birmingham poor scum. Maybe she comes home or gets visited and is losing her Birmingham accent and is a little thin and tired. V Polly and tommy nun scene vibes. Only if you aren't busy ❣️ x This has gotten really long, but this request gave me SO many ideas! Warning for abuse and neglect though. And I hope you like it!

Words: 6020 *** You couldn’t remember how it had all happened. One minute everything seemed to be fine and the next, life as you knew it had ended. Maybe it was Tommy’s idea, to give you the opportunities the others never had. But he never cared much about his siblings’ education. Maybe it was Arthur’s idea, thinking you’d finally become too wild. But he was too busy fighting his own demons. Maybe it was Aunt Pol’s idea, making a woman of style and class out of you. But she’d never abandon you like this. 

All you knew was that one morning you had been in bed. As usual, you’d woken up with the workers as the factory whistles sounded, but there was no need for you to get up at five. So you’d turned around and tried to sleep on. But then Finn had come in and he roughly shook you awake. “Aunt Pol says you have to get up,” he had said, his voice filled with urgency. But you hadn’t been awake fully yet, “What… Why? It’s so early!” “You have to pack.” “For what? Where are we going?” Your brother had refused to meet your eye, “Not me. Just you.” And before you knew it, Aunt Polly had taken you and your small bag into the car and you were speeding out of Birmingham. At least Finn had come along, though Polly had forbidden him to go, but he had been adamant. “Where are we going?” you had whispered to him in the back. He had hardly replied to any of your question, but gave evasive answers like, “Away. Pol says it won’t be forever.” You remembered the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness that had washed over you in that moment. Was it something you had done? Were you being punished? Was the family giving you up? You were only fifteen, you’d never been away from Small Heath without any of your siblings by your side, and the separation had been too abrupt, too cruel. Suddenly, Aunt Polly had swerved to the right and stopped abruptly in front of the train station. “Get you bag,” she’d ordered you. Anger had flared inside of you, “No! You tell me where I’m going first!” “Y/N Shelby, I am your aunt and you will do as I say. Remember who you’re talking to and don’t think for one second that you will win this fight. Grab your bag and get out of the car.” Petrified at your aunt’s tone of voice, you’d gotten out of the car. And like a zombie, you’d walked over to the train. On the side it said Oxford. “Where do I get off?” You’d asked no one in particular. “Oxford,” your brother had never left your side, “Just sit tight until the end.” “You know what’s going on.” “I can’t change it, Y/N,” his eyes had been pleading for your forgiveness in that one moment, “I tried, I swear to God I did, but I can’t change it…” Not really understanding, you had only been able to nod, “Will you explain it to me?” “I’ll write.” Suddenly, tears had begun to fall from your eyes. The great unknown hadn’t even scared you that much, but the sudden realisation that everything had been altered had. “Here,” Finn had nudged you, as you’d hoisted your bag on board, “I nicked this for you,” and he’d handed you a hipflask, “might get you as far as Oxford. After that, you’re on your own.” His words had hit you hard, so there’d been nothing left to do but take a swig from the whiskey he offered. “What did I do wrong?” you’d asked him, uncertain. “Nothing. Don’t let the bastards tell you otherwise. You did nothing.” His voice had been so strong then. “Finn?” “Yeah?” “You can’t fucking write.” He’d burst out laughing and you couldn’t help yourself but join him. Then the train had started to depart and you’d taken one last look at the car with Aunt Pol’s silhouette inside. You’d turned to Finn and it’d been like you would never see him again. “Finn?” “Yeah?” “I bloody love you, you know?” He’d smirked, “I fucking love you too.” Eyes still locked, the train had started to move and just before it was too late, he’d added, “I’ll make sure you’re coming back home.” You’d clung to those words *** At five in the morning, the whistles sounded. Waking up this early was now your habit, as it was the habit of all the girls here. Like robots, you all climbed out of your sober beds, to put on your drab grey dresses and to stand neatly next to year beds. The dormitory looked like a prison cell and the girls’ faces were ashen. Shivering in the cold, you waited for inspection. “Adams!” “Yes, sister.” “Lee!” “Yes, sister.” “Williams!” “Yes, sister.” The first voice rang through the room like the bells of hell and the girls answered in meek tones. This was your morning ritual and there was no comfort to be found in it. Silently, you waited, while a part of you still dreamed of the horses you once loved and rode. Remember the freedom you felt, you told yourself. Remember the wind in your hair? The people who cared? The place called home? Remember Finn running alongside you? “Shelby!” You suddenly looked up, “Yes, sister,” and faced the nun who’d stopped by your bed. “What’s this?” she asked her rhetorical question. “My bed,” you weren’t supposed to answer, but it had escaped you before you could stop yourself. The middle-aged woman crouched down and tore up the neat bedding you’d just finished tucking in perfectly. Locking eyes with you, she gloated, “Look, it isn’t made properly.” “It was,” you replied through gritted teeth, “you just went and fucked it up again.” Without a warning, she struck you across the face hard. Then she flipped over the bed in one smooth motion and said, without any emotion, “Do it again.” Seething with rage, you counted to ten in your head. In your mind, you went back to Small Heath. You could feel the warmth of the fire in your kitchen, hear the men counting the money and could smell Aunt Polly’s cooking. This and only this was how you managed not to explode. “Ankins!” she continued her list. “Yes, sister.” “Elliot!” She was new here and you looked at her without turning your head, a skill you’d mastered in recent weeks. Some of the girls said she’d gotten pregnant, but she’d lost the baby before coming here. No one really knew what had happened to her. You only thought she looked too young, too fragile, like a little bird that could be squashed with a single movement of the hand. “Yes…” she mumbled, practically inaudibly. “Speak up, girl!” She hardly increased her volume, but repeated, “Yes, sister.” Just as you’d promised yourself you’d try to look out for her, evil incarnate turned around to face you again and snapped, “Shelby. You’ll report to my office after you’ve finished making your bed, properlythis time.” Great, you thought. After she’d left, you looked at your hands in resignation. Faint white lines betrayed the cane that had been on them. They’d only just healed. *** A few months earlier, Tommy was meeting a man dressed in black in an alleyway. As the rain was pouring down on Small Heath, they spoke in urgent whispers. “What did she do this time?” the concerned brother said with a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. “Theft, mainly,” the other replied, “And she was seen at the races, leaving the scene of the murder.” Tommy knew his sister hadn’t been responsible for the death that day, but none of it mattered now, “How much do they know?” “Enough.” Tommy took another drag of his cigarette and paused for a second, “Well, what do they want?” “Nothing. Leverage.” “Fuck…” “Thomas,” the informant urged, “Get her out. Out of Small Heath, and do it fast.” “Where the fuck is she supposed to go?” He shrugged, “Don’t you have family some place else?” “Can’t protect our Y/N when she’s away from here,” Tommy said coldly, not betraying the emotions he felt. “Then send her somewhere she will be protected.” Tommy sighed deeply, “I’ll ask Pol, eh? She’ll know what to do.” The man looked at Thomas Shelby: gangster, businessman, brother. His face was impossible to read and his feelings remained hidden. So he said, “Do it tonight, Thomas, if you can. He said she’d hang for it. Get her out.” ***

The first time you had tried to escape you didn’t think about it. You hadn’t even planned it and had just decided to run. With two nuns hot on your heels, you’d raced through the corridors. Pretty soon, you ran into your first locked door. You knew all was lost there and then. “Shelby…” the mother superior had mused as you stood in her office, “I knew it would be you.” “And how the fuck would you know that?” you’d replied quick as a flash. “You watch your tone, filthy rat,” she’d shouted, but added calmly, “We know of your kind, child.” Through gritted teeth, you’d questioned, “And what kind would that be?” “Gypsy scum,” she’d spat, before beating you senseless for the first time. The second time you tried to escape, you’d thought it through more. In the middle of the night, you’d crept out of bed and tiptoed across the dormitory. “Get back in bed!” one of the girls had whispered, “Remember last time?” “Yeah, I fucking remember, that’s why I need to leave!” you’d whispered back, voice filled with urgency.

Two hairpins. The day you’d found those were the day you’d planned your second escape attempt. Because if growing up in Small Heath had taught you one thing, it was how to steal and lie and cheat. And, coincidentally, how to pry open any lock. The first locked door was conquered quickly, but the second one had proven to be more troublesome. The large black doors that were said to protect you from the outside world did their job of keeping you all caged inside. The hairpins were too small to reach all the tumblers. Cursing under your breath, you’d soon realised that you disappearance had been noticed. In a panic, you’d grabbed a chandelier from the chapel and broken a window. Ignoring the shards you’d climbed through, while they tore at your skin and blood stained your nightgown. Once outside, the fresh air had an intoxicating effect on you. But you’d never gotten far. Again, you were brought to the mother superior, who stood waiting eagerly this time, cane in hand. “Go on,” you’d urged, full of defiance, “Beat me and get it over with.” “No…” she’d said suddenly, “you will tell me what your plan was first.” “To fucking get out.” “Why would you want to leave this place?” she’d questioned innocently, “Why would you want to leave the house of the Lord, where we only want to offer you safety and education? Where you can atone for your sins and regain your place in heaven?” “I’m not an animal,” you’d replied, “I need to be free.” And with that, the nun had smirked at you, “Free. You want to be free. Well, maybe this will finally break your spirit.” They’d locked you up in the cellars for three weeks. Darkness had enveloped you, only broken when she came in to beat you or feed you. You could never be sure. After every beating, she’d say, “Now, I’ll pray to God for you and ask him for his forgiveness.” “I’ll do it myself,” came your steady answer each time, “I’ll deal with him on my own.” And in the dark you’d cling onto the black Madonna around your neck, the only mother you still had left in this Godforsaken place. Now, some girls would be broken by now, but not you. If anything, you’d been more determined than ever to get out. But you had to be smart about it. Maybe Aunt Pol wouldn’t take you back and maybe you’d shame Tommy, but Finn would look out for you. Running hadn’t worked so far, so a new plan had started to form in your mind: a new plan that involved the boy that delivered the bread. Because as the days droned on after you were being released, you started paying attention to the delivery boy for the first time. You knew he’d always had a thing for you, but you weren’t interested. As a way out, you were now extremely interested. “Hi,” you greeted when it was your turn to help him unload. He was so startled by your talking all of a sudden, all he could manage was, “Bread…” “Yeah,” you smiled your prettiest smile, “Bread. That’s what you’re here for, right?” “I am.” “Good,” and you continued to unload the crates, sending him a few glances over your shoulder. He was still rooted to the spot, so you decided a bit more effort was required in this case, “You only come here for the bread?” you asked with humour in your voice. “Well, that’s my job…” he almost stuttered, but when you made eye contact, he finally relaxed a little, “What else would I come here for?” “Me?” you asked innocently. You could tell his confidence was growing, “Well, maybe a little. I mean, you are the prettiest girl in the school.” That was easy, you thought. So you flirted on and chatted him up and soon he was all yours, “Your name’s Billy, right?” “Yeah.” “Well, Billy. I need a favour…” This plan was a lot more complicated but it had a higher chance of success. And it would’ve worked too, if it hadn’t been for the younger nun who’d spotted you talking to Billy. Before the third attempt had even taken place, you found yourself back at the office. This time, the mother superior didn’t even speak. As soon as you were marched in, she’d grabbed you by your hair and attacked you with a pair of scissors. “Get off me, you crazy bitch!” you screeched, as strands of your hair fell down left and right of you. But the old nun remained completely calm in her tone, while becoming increasingly vicious in her attack, “Do you know what we do here?” You clenched your jaw for the pain, because this was no longer just about cutting your hair, but also hurting you as much as possible in the process. You had about a thousand replies to her question, but quickly weighed your options and decided not to piss off an angry old nun with a deadly weapon in her hands. So she continued, “We offer you the gift of education. Through hard labour, lots of prayer and penance the girls can find their way back to Jesus Christ. By humbling yourself, denying yourself rest, food and drink even, and working beyond human endurance one may come closer to our Lord. Save yourself from eternal damnation.” “No, thanks,” you replied inaudibly. When your hair had been cut, she crowed, “Your arrogance has been defeated and your vanity has been lifted. You will do well here now.” The fuck you would.

*** “Aunt Pol?” “What?” the woman snapped. He faltered, “Is this a bad time?” “It’s never a good time. Speak up, Finn.” “Fine,” and he took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, “When’s Y/N coming home?” Aunt Polly turned around abruptly and said, “For fuck’s sake, Finn.” “It’s been months!” “And we haven’t heard from her,” with a large gesture, Aunt Polly threw some more wood onto the fire, “If something was wrong, she would’ve written.” “Well, no…” her nephew started protesting. “Yes,” his aunt interrupted him, “She’s fine. It’s Y/N. She can take care of herself.” “She can’t now, can she!” Finn suddenly erupted, “Yousend her away and for fucking what?! She didn’t do anythingwrong!” Polly held up a menacing hand, “You mind your fucking tone or I’ll slap you back to where you came from.” “I’m sixteen, Aunt Pol, same age as Y/N. Remember, we’re twins?” He’d only gotten more heated, “Something’s wrong. I can feel it, alright? And she wouldn’t write to you anyways, because you’re the one that send her away! Why would she write to someone who doesn’t even fuckingwant her?” Polly paused for a moment and seemed to calm down, “What do you mean you feel it?” “I just know, Aunt Pol, like when we were little and she fell in the Cut and I couldn’t breathe? It’s like that, only… longer.” She put down her black cigarette, “You’ve been dreaming, haven’t you?” “I dream about her, but I can never see her,” he nodded, “And sometimes…”

“What?” “It’s stupid…” “Finn, you tell me, right now!” everything about her was focused on the urgency of the situation now. But he didn’t understand, “Seagulls, alright? I keep dreaming about seagulls.” “Fuck,” his aunt whispered to herself, “I need to talk to Tommy.”

“Aunt Pol, you’re missing the fucking point!” he was seething again, “I was trying to talk to you about Y/N! I just want to know why you send her away and whenshe’s coming back!” “I didn’t send her away. Tommy said we didn’t have a choice,” she grabbed her coat and continued talking to herself, “I thought she’d be safe there…” “Isn’t she?” Finn asked, panicking as a result of his aunt’s strange behaviour. “Seagulls, Finn, fucking seagulls!” *** You couldn’t understand why they hated you so much. At first it had just been the nuns, and you had a vague notion of them calling you ‘gypsy scum’ had something to do with it. From the start, they’d commented on your accent, reminded you of where you came from and told you that you were nothing compared to the others girls here. And in a way this made sense: on the one hand this school had the outward appearance of being an institution of learning for young ladies, but the reality was very different. Parents who no longer wanted to deal with them or who had ‘shamed’ their families often dumped girls here. Others were orphans. Either way, the nuns collected the large amount of money paid for each girl and treated all of you badly. And you weren’t a complete idiot and you knew you were partially to blame for the situation as it was now. You knew you hadn’t made a great entrance when you walked into the school, but even from the start they had disliked you. But your resistance had made it worse, much worse. All the girls were treated harshly, had to work and were kept in line, but you were being treated like a slave held captive. There was zero intention on your part to come into the school to make friends. From the moment you’d stepped off that train, you’d decided you were done with people. All you wanted was your brother, and the rest of the family if they still wanted you. But after a few weeks, you had started craving some connections and you had tried to make friends with the other girls. But it soon became clear that you had very little in common with them. This however, wasn’t the main problem: they feared you. Your defiance made them anxious to be around you and receive similar punishments to yours. They kept away. “Elliot!” you whispered to the new girl, who was crying in the dark. You rolled onto your other side in bed to face her and tried to ask her gently, “What’s your name, your first name I mean?” After a few residual sobs, she said softly, “Anna.” “I had a cousin called Anna,” you smiled at her, “Why are you crying? Who do you miss?” “It’s not who I miss, it’s about who doesn’t miss me…” “How do you know…” you started, but you were interrupted. “Don’t talk to her!” another girl called out and Anna turned around to look at her. The girl continued, “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Don’t talk to Y/N. She’ll get you in trouble. Just… stay away from her.” Anna looked at you for a few seconds, eyes filled with fear and then she turned onto her other side. You couldn’t even blame her really. She was new. But slowly, it only got worse. All the girls crossed the halls when you passed and not only did they begin to shun you, but they started taking your things, stealing your food at times and made you an outcast in every sense of the word. And you suddenly understood: if they made you stand out even more, all the attention would be drawn to you. The nuns would leave them alone. You were the easy scapegoat, because you’d been the most likely choice from the start. And as the months wore on, you started to wither away. Jealous or full of hatred, you couldn’t tell, but the other girls tried to hurt you as much as the nuns did. You were cold at night because they’d taken your blankets. You didn’t eat because you were being punished. You didn’t sleep because you were locked up downstairs and the beatings kept you awake. And so you fell ill, heavily. After you recovered, you stopped eating, sleeping, fighting. Not because you no longer could, but because the loneliness had finally caught up with you: you no longer wanted to. *** Tommy watched his aunt as she strode over towards him. He’d known the woman for years and usually he would be annoyed by her interrupting his meeting, but by the way she walked, he knew she wouldn’t wait for anyone right now. “Get out,” she told the man Tommy had been talking too. He left at once. “It’s Y/N,” she said as soon as he’d gone, “We need to get her out.” “She’s at the school, the one you recommended, Pol. You told me she’d get a good education there.” “We were wrong, Thomas, wrong to send her away.” “What’s all this, eh?” he frowned, “We had no choice and she alright where she is. We took care of it.” With a wave of her hand, Polly referred to Finn, “He feels she’s in danger.” And Tommy turned to his youngest brother, raising his eyebrows sarcastically, “Is that right?” “I have a bad feeling, Tom…” Finn said uncertainly. “He’s been dreaming of seagulls,” Polly emphasized, locking eyes with her nephew. “Fucking seagulls…” he rubbed his head, “More gypsy witchcraft?” Swiftly, she slapped Tommy across the face, “You’ve forgotten where you’re from.” Quickly, Tommy’s face went through a range of emotions. First there was anger and the urge to strike back. Then there was the reaction of wanting to hide, like he was being chastised just like when he was little. The hurt over her comment came next, swiftly followed by a sense of shame, because she was right. His face settled on worry over his youngest sister. “What do we do?” “What will happen if we get her back to Small Heath?”

Tommy lit a cigarette and thought out loud, “Connor wants her dead. He has high influence in the police and he’s using her as leverage, after having seen her at the races.” “Y/N didn’t kill that soldier!” Finn called out, full of indignation. “Yes, we know…” Tommy said in a low voice, “But that doesn’t fucking matter because no one’s going to believe our word for it against his.” “Who else knows?” Polly continued. “My guess is no one does yet…” “JOHN!” Polly howled suddenly and for a second Tommy could only blink. Then he continued, “If anyone else knew, we’d heard by now. I’m guessing he intends to save the information for when he can use it.” Aunt Polly bend down and started unlacing one of her boots. That’s when John walked in and he immediately paused when he felt the tension hang in the air. “Take this,” she ordered him and handed him the small revolver that she kept hidden in her boots, “Shoot Connor.” “Fucking what?” he nearly spit out his toothpick. John looked at Tommy for an explanation, but it didn’t come. Instead Tommy asked Polly, “Then what?” “We go to Oxford.” Tommy nodded slowly, “John, go on. Shoot the man. Get Arthur out of bed when you’ve done it.” Shrugging like it was just another small task he had to fulfil without much enthusiasm, John walked off with the gun in hand. But Finn said carefully, “What if I was wrong?” “Have you ever been wrong about your sister?” Aunt Polly asked, “Apart from that time you thought she was in love with that Jewish boy…” “No.” “Trust your gut, Finn,” Tommy confirmed, “Pol’s right.” Aunt Polly smiled at him with an almost motherly warmth, “Let’s bring Y/N home.” *** Eventually you were moved to the hospital wing of the school. The neglect and lack of food had caused your body to shut down and you could no longer force yourself to get up each morning. At first, you were branded lazy and got punished for it. Finally, even the nuns acknowledged this was serious and the last thing they needed was another girl dying at their school. You’d lost all feeling for days, drifting in and out of sleep. One nun took care of you and she was different from the others. During your hazy periods, she tried to persuade you to eat, but with the last strength you did have, you refused. If you were to die, it’d be your own choice. “Y/N…” someone whispered to you gently. You tried to open your eyes, but it felt like lifting bricks with muscles you did not have. “Y/N,” the voice said again, and you realised this wasn’t the nun. Slowly you opened your eyes and saw Anna, sitting by the side of your bed. “What do you want?” you croaked. She looked down and said, “I came to see you.” “Why?” “Because I’ve made a mistake.”

You didn’t care for her feelings. You knew she despised you just like the others did and you didn’t need another girl gloating by your bed. So you decided to just wait and not answer her. “The girls told me you were scum,” she continued, “that you didn’t belong here. They said that’s why you always got into trouble, because you’re just Birmingham working-class trash.” Great, you thought, and how is this supposed to help? “When they told me to not talk to you, I listened. I thought it would help, that I would fit in more and the nuns wouldn’t beat me like I saw them do with others. But I was wrong.” “The nuns don’t need a reason,” you replied before you could stop yourself, “Reasons help, but they will find a way to vent their cruelty, no matter what.” “That night,” Anna said, “you talked to me and asked me who I missed. You were the only one that asked me why I was crying.” “I didn’t want you to feel too alone…” Anna nodded, “I know. That’s why I’m here.” But you didn’t understand, “Why are you here?” “Y/N. You’re not alone. Tell me, who do you miss?” Much to your own annoyance, tears welled up in your eyes. For last couple of months you had tried so hard not to think of Finn, Arthur, John and Ada. And you tried to ban Polly and Tommy especially from your mind, always wondering why they didn’t want you. Your heart can be cruel like that: those who don’t want you, you miss the most. Anna took your hand in hers and for the first time you felt another human being without pain. And so you started telling her of your brothers, of your aunt, of the horses and factories and of the streets of Small Heath. Anna didn’t say a word, but she listened intensely. After you’d cried all your tears and there were no more stories left to tell, all she said was, “Please. Eat.” When she offered you soup, you ate. *** It was a sight to behold: Polly Gray walking through the city of academia with four brothers practically having to run after her to keep up. When she arrived at the front doors of the convent, she didn’t ask to come in, but simply walked on into the halls. “Aunt Pol,” John ventured, “What do we do?”

“Keep up,” she said simply. Arthur looked around nervously. He didn’t like nuns and convents. But Tommy and Finn scanned every room and corner for you. Left and right, girls looked up in surprise as the strange family invaded their home. “Who’s that?” they whispered. But the nuns urged them away and said, “No one. Don’t look at them. They don’t belong here.” Tommy frown deepened as he noticed the faces of the girls. These weren’t what he expected. Of course, he wasn’t familiar with schools like this one, but he knew education played a part. These girls all looked tired, downtrodden and most of them were cleaning or scrubbing the floors. He shared a look with Aunt Polly and she nodded in understanding. “How are we going to find her?” Finn asked. “Oi!” Arthur called out to one of the girls, who jumped up at his voice, “Y/N, you know her?” “No, sir…” she shook. “Listen to my voice,” John added, “What about a girl who sounds like me?” And then one other girl stepped forward and she tilted her chin up high as a sign of arrogance, “She’s not here.” “And whyis she not here?” Polly asked pointedly. The girl got nervous, but tried to keep composure, “Because she’s filth and this is a decent school.” Again, Tommy looked around at the skinny girls, all dressed in the same drab depressing dressed, “Decent, eh?” His low menacing voice knocked all the attitude out of her, so she changed her mind, “She was taken to the hospital ward a few weeks ago.” “Where,” Arthur demanded. “North wing,” she gulped.

Aunt Polly marched through the halls like a woman on a mission. Her face bore a gritty look of determination and none of the bells, smoke and threats of a holy place could make her quiver. In fact, God shook as she walked passed.

Still, one nun tried to stop her, but before she could open her mouth in protest, Aunt Polly had pushed her aside and casually commented, “Better get out of the way, sister, you certainly won’t be the first woman of God I’ve knocked down.” When they entered the hospital wing, they walked into another depressing space filled with beds in lines. Most of them were empty, but one nun stood up and walked over to Polly. Her first instinct was to actually knock down this one, but when she saw her soft face, she paused. “Y/N Shelby,” she demanded, “We’ve come to take her home.”

“You’re her aunt?” the nun asked, “She’s asked for you.” “Is she alright?” Finn stepped forward, “What was wrong with her?” “We thought she might not make it. She stopped eating, you see,” the nun explained. John frowned and protested, “That’s not Y/N. She would never refuse food, unless…” Tommy didn’t need to hear the ‘unless’; worry was already eating him alive inside. So he walked around in search for his sister. He found her in a bed, with another girl sitting next to her. His sister was asleep. “Who are you?” Polly demanded harshly. But the brothers couldn’t speak when they saw their sisters. You were too skinny, eyes sunken deep and bruises were still visible on your face. The long black hair was gone. In many ways, it wasn’t their sister anymore, just a shell. The nun answered when the other girl was too afraid to, “This is Y/N’s friend. She came to visit her every day, even though she wasn’t allowed to.” Polly lifted one eyebrow, “Then why did you allow it?” “Anna got Y/N to eat again. She’s the reason she’s alive.”

Anna. Polly walked over to her and carefully took her hand, “You watched over my niece.” “I didn’t want her to feel alone. She felt abandoned, she said…” Anna said in a soft voice. Polly shook her head in an effort to banish the emotions, “Thank you, Anna. You’re a good friend and a guardian angel.” “What did they do to her?” John asked her through gritted teeth. “She was isolated, singled out for being… different.” Anna explained without meeting their eyes, “She tried to fight them from the start, but never won. She kept trying to run away. They beat her, kept her locked up in the cellar, but when the other girls turned on her and she thought she would never leave this place, she just… gave up.” Slowly, Finn had walked over to the other side of the bed. Clumsy but lovingly, he started stroking the hair out of your face. Seagulls, he thought. “Who’s in charge here?” Tommy suddenly spoke. “The mother superior has an office down the hall,” the nun said, “Anna can take you there.” “No,” Anna gasped, “I can’t…” Fear was written all over her face.

“What’s wrong with the office?” Tommy asked her with unusual kindness. “It’s where she…” And in an instant they all understood. So Tommy demanded, “Tell that woman to come here.” “She won’t like it, sir…” “You fuckingtell her to come here,” Tommy spat filled with venom, “Or I will burn this entire place down to the ground, and don’t think for a second I won’t fucking do it.” So the nun with the gentle face nodded and walked off. Somehow, Tommy’s explosion had triggered some old memories in you. Before you were properly awake, you dreamed of being back in your bed in Small Heath. The smell of the factories penetrated your nose and you could hear your family arguing. But when you opened your eyes, they were actually there. You looked at them one by one and stopped at Finn, “You said you’d explain.” “And I will,” he said, “when we get home.” “Am I allowed to go home?” you questioned in disbelieve. Aunt Polly shook her head, “You should’ve never been anywhere else.” “Can’t protect you if you’re not at home…” Tommy added with a slight hint of guilt in his voice. “It’s safe now,” John said, “I’ve dealt with it.” And just the way he said it made you smile a little. “Arthur, John,” Tommy started ordering them in his usual business-like manner, “Take Y/N out of here.” And Arthur lifted you out of the bed into his arms like it was nothing. “Finn, you go with them. Make sure you get her things.” At that, John pulled a gun and Finn nodded solemnly. “What about Anna?” you asked, looking at your friend, “I won’t leave her here.” “Pol and I are going to have a word with the mother superior,” Tommy stated matter-of-factly. You sighed in relief, but Anna still had a look of confusion on her face, “What will that do? She won’t listen to anyone.” “She’ll listen to us, love,” Polly said to her with a reassuring smile that left very little room for arguments, “We’ll make sure of it.” You smiled at Anna too, “This convent will be closed by tomorrow. Trust me.” “We’ll see you at home, Y/N,” Tommy said, “And then we’ll talk.” Just before Arthur walked out of the door with you in your arms, Aunt Polly ran over to you and pressed a kiss on your forehead, “Safe journey, sweetheart.” Then there was just Tommy and Polly left, clearing their faces of all sentiment and hardening their features. Arms crossed, they waited and knew what had to be done, and nothing would stop them from doing it.

“Mr. Shelby, Mrs. Gray?” the hospital nun had reappeared, “The mother superior will see you now.”

***

Masterlist

[thatasianstereotype]

Fuck. I’m Gay.

I’ve been reading a lot of ml salt fics lately (mainly @unmaskedagain which is a literal goldmine of saltiness). And getting into the Damienette ship. Marinette really does deserves better (Fuck Canon) but so does Adrien. He is not a “sidekick”. Chat Noir and Ladybug are partners = equals. So I decided why not write a fic where Adrien gets his own happy ending in the form of a grumpy assassin-turned-vigilante that loves animals more than people. 

Somewhat of a crack writing where creative liberties were definitely taken. 

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Lila Rossi is a bitch and everyone knew it. Well, by everyone, Adrien means himself, his good-amazing-make-pastries-for-him friend Marinette, his maybe-not-really-sure friend Chloe and his-not-that-close-really-classmate Nathaniel. 

Yeah. It was a small number. 

But Lila is still a bitch. 

Anyway, Lila’s lies and manipulations have disturbed the status quo and not in a good way. She ended up making the majority of the class fawn over her like she was a perfect goddess and not a pompous-temperamental-hormonal teenager. Teenagers were prone to be gullible; he can understand his classmates being inclined to believe her. But this was utterly ridiculous (man, Chloe is rubbing off on him). No. You know what’s even more ridiculous? Ms. Bustier letting Lila get away with it. She doesn’t even stop the class mistreating Marinette who claimed she was a bully just because of you know who - Fucking Lila Rossi. The audacity of that bitch and her bitchy followers, am I right? 

Growing up he watched the tv shows and the animes. High schools always had their drama but he thought that was to get some plot going on. He didn’t think it was an actual thing that happens in real life. But he was proven wrong. Françoise Dupont High School had their drama and it was way worse than what he watched on screen. 

The worst part was that he couldn’t get away from Lila. Or he’ll be pulled from school (Fuck you Dad). He had to sit next to that bitch and listen to her drone on and on about things they both knew she didn’t do, about things she promised to do for her ever gullible followers friends. And couldn’t say anything against it if he wanted to stay in school. But even his discreet questioning didn’t do that much. It got some of the class to think something’s possibly fishy with her stories but not enough to think Lila was evil. So he just gave up. Because what was even the point? 

He was distancing himself from Alya and Nino. He couldn’t really be friends with people who thought Lila held the sun and moon. They didn’t hang out as much as they used to and he made excuses when they did invite him to stuff. Lately, he was making outrageous excuses - like he had to take his cat to the vet even though he didn’t have a cat - to see if they caught on. They didn’t. It was fun but he didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad about that. But feeling sad-depressed-pain over it was a bitch so he decided to take his victories as they come. 

Chloe had left the school earlier on. Her mom wanted to spend one-on-one time with her daughter (Yeah, Audrey is better at being a mother here). She was completely out of this drama mess. And Nathaniel kept his head down to not paint a target on himself. 

His only consolation and ally in this whole mess was Marinette. His darling angel. His sunshine incarnate. His own goddess (not like that bitch Lila let’s get one thing straight). 

When he was feeling overwhelmed (which was a lot), he spent it at her house. They spent it discussing fashion, trash talking Liar-la and the sheep class, playing video games, and making/eating the best baked goods in all of Paris. If he wasn’t at his photo shoots or at school, he was at her house. And with how often they spent time with each other, it wasn’t long before they accidentally revealed their alter egos to each other. 

(The class’ Everyday Ladybug was actually Ladybug. How amazing is that! Isn’t Marinette the absolute coolest?!) 

Since they outed themselves to each other, they had to give up their miraculous. And new heroes had to be chosen. As the guardian, Marinette decided to give the Ladybug miraculous to herself and the Cat one to Adrien. And make them the superheros of Paris. 

(Just when he thought that Marinette couldn’t get any cooler) 

They both collectively decided that being friends were for the best and put away their obsession crush over the other far far away. Now they were best friends-almost siblings. Oh who was he kidding? He was an honorary Dupain-Cheng. Marinette and her parents said so. And who was he to deny the goddess? 

All was well. 

Until he met this gorgeous boy with raven black hair and piercing green eyes that made him question everything in life. 

Like fuck. His life wasn’t hard enough already? 

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It was a slow patrol. Just stopped a few petty crimes. No akuma tonight. He wasn’t really expecting much to happen.

Mari said patrolling regularly gives citizens a sense of security and it helps if one of them were on scene if an akuma does appear. 

He didn’t mind. He loved running on the rooftops and feeling the wind in his face. After some time, he stopped and stood on top of one of the tallest buildings. Just soaking the view. The peace and serenity of it all. Seeing the glowing lights of his beloved city. Seeing the Eiffel Tower standing tall and proud. 

(Forget school. Forget Liar-la and her hoard of bitches) 

This was his city. This was why he fights Hawk Moth with Ladybug. They had something precious to protect. 

He was done patrolling the regular routes and all his schoolwork was already finished. He could go to sleep but he didn’t feel that tired. And he really didn’t want to go back home. Mari shared her theory on his dad being Hawk Moth. She had really good reasons and a plethora of proof. If they could switch miraculous, why couldn’t he and Mayura - most likely Nathalie? Which would explain how Gabriel got akumatized.

After all her support with dealing with Lila, he was way more inclined to believe her even without the evidence. But those things just made him more wary of his dad. And he wasn’t too stoked on spending more time than what he can get away with with the guy. Because his dad being Hawk Moth explains why he wants Lila (his strongest supporter - Chameleon and Oni-chan, anyone?) close and makes Adrien play nice with her. And anyone who enables Lila’s bitchiness is on his enemy list. 

Anyway, he was out here to enjoy the good mood not think about evil bitches and evil dads. So he sat himself down and enjoyed the sights. It was more calming than you would think. 

He heard cars blaring and even a dog barking. The slight breeze felt nice. The moon was pretty bright tonight. The stars too. There was a lone couple walking through the park. There was also another teen in black running on rooftops a few buildings away. 

Wait. 

What? 

He blinked and looked again. Huh, there was another teen in black running on rooftops. And it was not a hallucination. 

What the actual fuck?

He was instantly on his feet, baton already in hand as he raced across the roof to reach said stranger. 

“Hey!” 

But because he was the lucky owner of the unlucky miraculous, the moment he said that, the guy was about to jump off a building to presumably roll onto the next one like Chat was watching him do beforehand. But his call made him lose focus and Chat watched horrified as the guy slipped and started falling into the alley. 

Oh fuck! Mari was going to fucking kill this dumbass kitty!

He hoped to everything that Mari thinks is holy that he makes it in time. Extending his baton, he used it as a huge Pogo stick to basically catapult himself towards the stranger and wrapped his arms around him as he braced himself for the full weight of hitting the gravel at this height and speed. But he wasn’t that that concerned. His suit protected him from the majority of the injuries that would’ve occurred if he wasn’t wearing it. It hurt but it isn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Remember earlier? He takes his victories as they come. 

This was not the smartest of ideas, he’ll admit. Mari had the brains to be honest. But it wasn’t bad if he say so. And he does say so. 

He rolled over and immediately looked over the stranger that was remarkably unharmed in this whole mess. 

And oh.

Oh.

The stranger was taller than he was with a lithe and lean frame. He had raven black hair that complimented his tanned skin and gorgeous green eyes that pierced through him, making his heart do funny things. 

He was not expecting him to look as hot as he did. He wore a simply black t-shirt and jeans but he looked like a fucking Adonis, what the fuck.  Even the moon shone down on him, highlighting his handsome features even more.  

He shook himself of those thoughts and focused on what was more important. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” 

He was rudely pushed away, but he didn’t take offense. He did cause the guy to fall after all. 

“Do not touch me.” (What kind of accent is that?) “I’m fine. You are truly a moronic imbecile of the highest accord to yell like that. And what are you even supposed to be? Some kind of knock-off Catwoman?” 

At that, Chat looked at Hot-And-Sexy weird. “Are you new here? I’m the superhero Chat Noir. I protect Paris with Ladybug.”

“You’re joking.”

“I know I come off as the goofy hero because I make purr-fect puns all the time but I’m not joking about this.” 

He took out his phone to show the foreign (since he’s obviously not a Parisian) stranger the akuma attacks and Ladybug and Chat Noir being a dynamic duo, saving Paris and beating Hawk Moth. Ok, he showed the stranger a lot of stuff. Sue him. He gets to brag about his Princess. And himself too.

“I never heard about this before.” Hot-And-Sexy (he has got to come up with a better name) said afterward. “3 years this has been going on? Why didn’t you ask for help from the Justice League or other superheros?” 

Chat shrugged. “We tried. But they said we’re obviously pulling a prank and making this all up. So we stopped asking for help.”

For some reason this made Hot-And-Sexy angry. “They ignored your plea for help and left you to fight for yourselves?”

“Pretty much, yea.” 

“You and Ladybug are children.” 

“Excuse me? Are you doubting our ability to protect our city?" He was not apologetic at the sharp edge his voice took. Forget looking hot. How dare he? The audacity really. 

Hot-And-Sexy shook his head. “I’m not. I know some child superheroes who are adequate at their jobs and a few who are remarkable like Robin in Gotham. But the majority of them had adult mentors to guide them. From what you’ve shown me, you and Ladybug had no one. You were left alone to fend for yourself with essentially no help.” 

He never thought of it that way. But hearing it like that made him think: Fuck Adults Who Chose Children to Fight Their War For Them and Fuck Hawk Moth For Putting Them In This Position In The First Place. 

You know what. Just to clear all his bases - Fuck Everyone But The Dupain-Chengs. 

Chat couldn’t help but shrug, not quite knowing what to say to that. “Life is a bitch, I’ve come to find out. But enough of that. Why were you running on rooftops anyway?”

“It calms me down.”

Relatable. 

“Is...Is your tail moving?” 

“Huh?” He looked behind him to see his tail was indeed moving lazily. “Yeah. I’m called Chat Noir for a reason.”

“May I touch them?” Chat was used to people (usually kids) pulling on his tail to see if it was real (It was). And it really hurts because they usually rough. Not that he blames them. Kids don’t know any better. Still, he usually says no when people ask. 

But Hot-And-Sexy had such a sincere expression that he said yes. To his surprise and delight, Hot-And-Sexy was extremely gentle (Can this guy be anymore perfect?) and it felt nice to be petted like that. Curse his touch-starvation (again Fuck you Dad).

Hot-And-Sexy was apparently fascinated by his ears and tail. 

“Are you a meta?” He noticed how Hot-And-Sexy’s voice turned softer and fonder (or was he imagining that?).

“Nah. I’m fully human. I just got powers to transform into this.” He looked down at his phone seeing that the time was nearing 2 am.

“Have you suffered any injuries from your stupid stunt?” 

“Hmm?” Chat looked back at him before gesturing to his body. “Don’t worry. I may not look like it but I can take it.”

He can practically feel Hot-And-Sexy rolling his eyes. “What an utter dolt.” 

But there wasn’t any heat behind it so he didn’t take it to heart. 

“Thanks, babe.” 

“That was an insult.”

“And I’m taking it like a compliment.”

Chat stood up and stretched his limbs. Hot-And-Sexy doing the same but dusting off his clothes instead.

“So, uh, need any help getting home?”

“I am perfectly capable of finding my own way, thanks.” 

“Ok. Have a nice night.” He was about to leave when he was caught off guard by Hot-And-Sexy staring at him for a good few seconds, making his limbs freeze in place at the heavy attention.

Before he said. “You should try contacting the Batfamily in Gotham about Hawk Moth. They’re used to dealing with weird things. I’m sure they won’t turn you or Ladybug away.” 

Chat was a bit distracted by how intensely those green eyes focused on him, making his heart beat faster and his cheeks turn a vibrant red. 

He was so screwed. 

He used his baton to shoot himself up so he can run on rooftops, hurrying to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. 

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“Mari! I think I’m gay!”

“It’s 2 in the morning, Chaton. Go to sleep and we’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

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After a good night’s rest (and thank everything that was right in the world that today was a weekend), Adrien told Mari all about Hot-And-Sexy. And yes, he did call the stranger that out loud. His everything-that-actually-matters sister simply took it in stride after giggling a bit. They spent the majority of the day discussing emotions and everything that came with that bundle. 

Before he finally came to a conclusion. 

He is definitely gay (He liked girls but not like like them). And most definitely had a crush on Hot-And-Sexy with the pretty green eyes. 

Good news: He is no longer having a sexuality crisis. 

Bad news: He is going through an emotional crisis. 

Like dealing with these feelings that is making his stomach flip flop over and over again? The only one he ever had to deal with was the one he had on Ladybug and that (he talked with Mari about it months before. She was amazing with these emotional matters) was more of a hero-worship crush than anything really romantic. 

And his crush on Hot-And-Sexy was so much more. 

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So it’s been about 2 weeks since he encountered Hot-And-Sexy. And he still haven’t figured out what else to call him. But the nickname was growing on him. 

(He also told Mari about asking the Batfam for help but she was a bit apprehensive after the disastrous attempts of convincing the Justice League. He shrugged, trusting her opinion and left it at that) 

Anyway, Lila was being her usual bitchy self. Father was being non-existent like always. Mari was his only source of sanity at school. And Hawk Moth was being a bitch. 

Because of course, the day before they have a huge test, he decides to akumatize someone (in this case, a businessman who was really unhappy with getting fired) and cut in on study time. And this akuma took a while to defeat. Guess he drew a lot of strength from his burning hatred of the failings of the corporate world. 

And just yesterday, a teenager who was upset at being grounded got akumatized and terrorized the city for 3 hours before Ladybug could purify her. It did however confirmed her fears. Hawk Moth was getting stronger. It took longer to defeat his monsters. They needed to find him and ended this fast. 

Adrien landed on Mari’s balcony and slipped in her room, crashing on her big comfy bed, de-transforming on the spot. Plagg sleepily floating and laying next to him on the pillow. He was so tired. And photo shoots and school drama were not helping things.

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For the record, he was not at all expecting to see Hot-And-Sexy in a bookstore of all places. 

He was so engrossed in looking through the latest Boku no Hero Academia manga (can’t wait until Season 5 comes out) that when someone touched his shoulder, he was not proud to admit he squeaked a bit.

He turned around and his eyes widened his surprise. 

“Hot-And-Sexy!” 

It was indeed the Adonis Adrien had a huge crush on. Today he was wearing a white t-shirt paired with a blue denim jacket and black ripped jeans. Wow. He really can make anything look hot.

No. Bad Adrien. Don’t let him know you actually have a crush on him.

And oh fuck. Hot-And-Sexy was staring at the blonde and Adrien tried not to let himself get flustered. He has a very intense stare. For all he knew, Hot-And-Sexy stares at everyone like that.

Calm the fuck down, heart. You too brain.

He raised a handsome eyebrow in amusement. “Excuse me?”

Adrien felt himself burn with embarrassment, his face turning bright scarlet. No wonder he was fit for the unlucky miraculous or was this just a side-effect? Note to self, ask Mari about this later. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t get your name last time. And I just started calling you that in my head. Cause you’re really hot and you have pretty eyes.”

Fuck mouth! Why won’t you stop talking! Please for the love of everything that makes Mari a BAMF stop. Stop digging further into the hole of embarrassment! Abort mission! Abort!

“When did we meet?”

At that, he blink a few times. Oh fuck. He was not Superhero Chat Noir. He was Civilian Adrien Agreste. Mari was definitely murdering his dumbass tonight. Lightning please strike him down right now. Where was an unlucky lightning strike when you need it?

After a few seconds of his horrified silence, Hot-And-Sexy chuckled (he had such a nice laugh). “You are extremely lucky I already figured out your alter ego beforehand, Chaton.”

Before Adrien could even unwrap that statement, he held out a hand and had a dangerously sexy smirk on his face. “My name is Damian Wayne. Would you care to get a cup of coffee with me?”

And Adrien nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak. He can deal with the superhero thing later when he can think straight (hah!) and is not distracted by Damian’s beautiful smile and alluring green eyes and perfect everything.

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Guess what?

Ya Boi got game.

(At least, he likes to think he does)

After a successful coffee date (was it a date? Please let it be a date), they exchanged numbers (cue internal squealing) and met up a few times afterward to hang out.

Apparently, Dami was here on business to deal with something for Wayne Enterprises.

“Aren’t you 17?”

“Father believes in preparing us when we’re young.”

Dami was amazingly sweet. Arrogant and pretentious with a stick up his ass but sweet. He treats stray animals with such reverence that Adrien’s heart melt every time he sees it.

It was an added bonus when Damian scorned Lila with cruel words and disgusted looks when she tried to cut in Adrien and Dami’s date(?)/meetup(?)/spending-time-together event.

She cried and whined afterwards and Adrien has to endure his father’s lecture. But it was totally worth it.

Oh yeah. Mari was not pleased that he accidentally outed himself to a civilian. But nothing that a couple of sad kitty eyes can’t fix.

“You are so lucky you’re cute, kitty-cat.” Mari grumbled but she was smiling. “I just need to have a good talk with him on the importance of secrecy.”

.

That day Damian Wayne learned to fear a certain Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

.

It was 2 weeks later when Adrien woke up to a package next to his futon in Mari’s room. When he opened it, he saw the Butterfly and Peacock miraculous inside.

There was a card beneath it. And in beautiful cursive script read: 

I dearly hope you enjoy my courting gift, mon amour. Allow me the honor to formally ask you out on a date. I look forward to hearing favorably from you soon.

- Damian Wayne

He couldn’t believe it.

“Mari! Damian likes me back!”

“Chaton, I swear. It is 2 in the morning.”

Next

[softer-ua]

i can't be the only one who wants izuku to get fucking pissed at his situation, at all might, start questioning what the fuck is going on with OFA.

because if you're going to trust a fifteen year old with something like OFA and bind them to the life of a symbol, you do not get to withhold information. deku was not told he'd be dealing with an enemy like AFO when he got the quirk, nor was he told that basically its whole point was not fighting some vague concept of evil, but fighting a very tangible very dangerous villain. he wasn't told that up until all might, inheriting this power was guaranteed suicide, and even after all might you only have a vague chance of survival. to be offered such a life altering "gift", Izuku should have been warned of everything. from the start. and if not then then from the very moment izuku started seeing vestiges, or at least when AFO resurfaced. WHY IN GOD'S NAME WOULD YOU HIDE ANY, ANY BIT OF INFORMATION ON A QUIRK THAT IMPORTANT?????

no because, if you look at it cynically, All Might took this kid who had nothing and who looked up to him as effective god. He took this kid who he knew had no sense of no self-care or self-preservation. This extremely reckless kid who he saw putting his life at risk three times (sludge v1, hanging on to AM as he jumped, sludge v Katsuki) within 24 hours. He picked this kid who he knew would give everything (because Izuku had "nothing", and therefore nothing to lose) and "gifted" him with a ticking time bomb. Of course Izuku is willing to break himself if it means using OFA to max potential. So much of his self-worth is based on OFA. He's said time and time again he isn't sure if he deserves it, that it's a borrowed power. If you've taken this kid and given him everything practically overnight, of course he'll go to self-destructive lengths to prove himself worthy of it. Who'd want to go back to being nothing after all?

And this is a logical conclusion. Someone like Izuku, someone like All Might probably used to be in his youth and still kind of is, they're perfect to be put on this kind suicide mission. They're a perfect vessel. Sure they're heroic and brave and selfless, but most importantly they're willing to die for the cause. OFA the quirk knows this. Literally two seconds after Katsuki sacrifices himself telling Deku not to do shit alone, Deku renders said sacrifice useless by doing exactly what Katsuki warned him not to😭 And the quirk and vestiges encourage him. They don't give a shit about repercussions and Deku's chronic pain or possible arm paralysis. They just want to beat AFO. You go son you break those arms 🤠

Doesn't it all feel a little bit exploitative?

Look at it like this. A kid is born with no power. This kid wants to be great, but the world says he can't. He meets his hero, and the hero says he can't either. Then the kid acts heroic, but reckless. The hero sees an opening. This kid is good and doesn't care one bit about his well-being? Jackpot! He offers the kid a deal. Great power, an extraordinary gift at surface layer. But one with so many more hidden strings attached that hurt and break and haunt the kid, that he was never warned about or taught how to deal with. But he can always give it to someone else! Can he, really? Can he go back to being nothing? With a personality like his, well nope. And that's why you pick the overly selfless reckless ones. The ones that will feel indebted to you to a ridiculous degree.

Isn't it like dare I say... like a deal with the devil?

As we progress more and more into the lore of AFO and OFA, I can really see why Katsuki's started to view it as a cursed power. And with how wildly different from expectations (at least mine) + far more nuanced the Todofam drama has revealed itself to be compared to what it seemed upon first intro, I'm inclined to believe there's more to the OFA story than clean cut, young bro good guy vs mean big bro oppression.

TL;DR - All Might is the metaphorical devil jr who gave Izuku a passed down deal, and neither he nor broccoli boy read the fine print.

Bakugo’s ghost sent me this ask 💀

Lol but seriously, these are all excellent points and I’ve been sitting on this ask until I had time to answer it because you’re absolutely goddamn right

This shit is explotive af, and I’ve got a suspicion as to why

I don’t think Deku was a random choice, there’s a layer of fate/mystic woven into the bnha world that gets over looked.

Sir had insane fortune telling abilities that were never once wrong about anything except when it came to the 2 OFA users fates. Deku even specifically says he’ll smash any fate in his way, and I think on some level he knows he can because he has a different destiny.

The vestiges break him from Shinsos hold, meaning the can have some level of control over Dekus body. You think AM noticed every time something like that happened? AM didn’t even notice Bakugo internalizing all the blame for his retirement even after watching his mom force him to apologize for it??

“I keep forgetting that your still a child” AM, sir, this is the third time you’ve admitted out loud that you were just gonna let Bakugo suffer his own fate 💀 please stop indicting yourself and at least pretend you care about Bakugo outside his relationship to Deku jfc

Also what are the chances you get nine random holders and none of them turn out to be corrupt or at least too self serving to die for the cause??? Slimmer than the pages bnha is printed on.

There’s something pulling some strings here, and I think it’s the true power of First users quirk.

What would be the point of transferring a quirk if that’s it’s only power?

What would be the point of this quirk being essentially password locked?

What would be the point of this quirk being able to forced on to someone?

There’ wouldn’t be any.

But what if that’s not what the quirk is?

What if the quirk is actually passing something along, and that’s why it’s dna based, it’s the transfer of an integral part of them.

Something that would change a person if forced on them but would possibly eradicate someone if stolen. Something like a souls desire? That could be a dangerous thing to give to someone else especially if it’s something they didn’t want, now they suddenly have to?

Then you give this quirk a strength enhancing quirk?

Now it’s got some juice, how much stronger did it get? Can it sense others with a similar goal, can it make its host gravitate towards those people?

Is the firsts quirk purposely finding exploitable heros, like Nana AM and Deku. All people who were/are willing to give up everything for the cause. How much of the first is in there, how much sentient power does this quirk have?

We know that Nana gave up her family, her child, for the cause. AM never bothered cultivating a family and pushed away Sir and anyone else who is anti him dying, and now we’re seeing Deku do the same.

Deku who had no friends to begin with, a dad who’s out of the picture, and an already slightly strained relationship with his mom?

Is this quirk capable of learning? Does it know that having people you care about slows you down from sacrificing yourself?

Does this quirk compound with the other users goals make the drive stronger each time?

Idk but there’s a glimmer of hope that Deku isn’t doomed to be a glorified meat puppet, and it exists in the form of Kacchan.

No one else had someone so deeply rooted to them, who could fight right along side them. Bakugo is an outlier in this story, almost the exact opposite kind of hero OFA wants, his connection to Deku breaks the cycle.

Deku would never give up on Katsuki, and even if he tried Endeavor will start coughing up ice cubes before Bakugo lets him. He couldn’t leave Deku alone when he was convinced he hated him, there’s no way he’d do it now.

Dekus story will be different from the other users that’s for sure.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph!

Any chance you've got any fics where John and Sherlock come out publicly (an AU or just canon)? For some reason I just adORe the tension

Anyway, thanks for everything you do on your blog, it's hugely appreciated!

Hey Lovely!!

Ahhhh Hmm I thought I had a list for this but apparently not, oof. 

Here’s what I can offer you with my tags in my bookmarks and MFL’s! Feel free to add some, y’all if you have any I missed!

COMING OUT

See also: 

Homophobia / Sexuality / Pride || [John’s Sexuality]

John’s Friends Find Out About Sherlock

John’s Internalized Homophobia

Ex by Itsallfine (T, 1,248 w., 1 Ch. || Angsty Fluff, Love Confessions, Coming Out, Exes, First Kiss, Fake Relationship, Getting Outed) – One night, in the midst of their post-case high and on the cusp of something more, John and Sherlock run into John’s ex. His ex-boyfriend.

Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

MARKED FOR LATER

About Being Gay by A_Candle_For_Sherlock (G, 1,088 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Romantic Fluff, Older Rosie) – Rosie looks up from Sherlock’s picture book about poisonous plants, gives Sherlock a look and asks, 'Are you gay, Sherlock?' and Sherlock, without missing a beat, just says 'Yes,' and continues drinking his tea, and Rosie says 'Ah,' and goes back to her plant book, and John nearly doubles over in the corner.

A Regular not at all Terrifying-for-unknown-reasons Conversation by Dodoa (T, 5,506 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Unilock, Best Friends, Coming Out, Self-Discovery, Dialogue Heavy, Self Acceptance) – Sherlock is trying to work something out and goes to John for help. John might not have all the answers, but he's determined to help.

Still alive by LoLecter (M, 8,375 w., 1 Ch. || Teenlock AU || Trans!Sherlock, Suicide Attempt, Overdose, Friends to Lovers, Coming Out, Bisexual Character, Fluff, Transphobia, Asshole Parents, Big Brother Mycroft) – Sherlock has known he was transgender for a while now and he decides to come out to his parents, but they react badly and Sherlock end up trying to kill himself only to be saved by his best friend John who doesn't know anything about Sherlock being trans.

Isolated by CarmillaCarmine (G, 8,549, 6/7 Ch. || WiP || Quarantine From Virus, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Bi-Panic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Coming Out, Bathing/Washing, Bubble Bath, Kissing) – Due to an ongoing pandemic, John and Sherlock find themselves isolated at 221B.

Who I Really Am by agirlsname (T, 13,067 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE [1] or [2] || Post S4, Bisexuality, Coming Out, Grief/Mourning, POV John, Pining, Sexuality Crisis, Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending) – You don't tend to give up your heterosexual privilege without a fight.

Coming Out by LiviKate (M, 13,439 w., 5 Ch. || Teenlock, Homophobia, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Oral Sex, Drunk John, Bisexual John, Teen Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Reconciliation, Arguing) – John has had feelings for his best friend for a very long time. Feelings he knows will never be returned. When John goes out to drown his sorrows in booze and girls, he finds himself falling into bed with a man for the first time instead. John doesn't expect Sherlock to think much of it, as he had never cared either way about people's sexualities. But when Sherlock finds out, things go downhill quickly, leaving John confused and alone. Can the two friends come back together after such an explosive coming out? If they do, will it be like before? Or might it be so very, very different?

Straight Boy Pain by Glenmore (NR, 18,257 w., 10 Ch. || Coming Out, Pain, Romance, Birds, Sexuality) – Sherlock is in pain. Billy Kinkaid, the Camden garroter and best man Sherlock knows, diagnoses it. Ademar Silver, a male prostitute in south London, attempts to treat it. Lestrade, kindly Detective Inspector of New Scotland Yard, doesn’t notice it. Eventually, John Watson, healer and registered medical doctor, cures it. And a beautician called Penny paints Sherlock’s toenails.

The Lying Doctor by pagimag (E, 44,285 w., 20 Ch.  || S4 Fix It, Hurt/Comfort, Past Alcohol/Drug Abuse, Anger Issues, Depressed John, Watson Siblings, Coming Out, Bi John, First Time, Dom/Sub Undertones, Parentlock, Internalized Homophobia, Past Child Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John's relationship is fragile after the events at Culverton Smith’s hospital. John struggles with guilt and anger issues. During a case he decides to visit his aunt, which leads to an unexpected development. He’s forced to reevaluate ingrained behaviours, confront long lasting issues and question how he leads his life.

In Bed by Ellipsical (E, 46,922 w., 12 Ch. || Autofellatio, Vibrators, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Liminal Identities, Christmas, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Fingering, Jealous John, Therapy, Flirting, Texting, Fluff, Sherlock’s Violin, Anal, Est. Rel., Semi-Public Sex, Harry Watson, Communication, Coming in Pants, Spitroasting, Double Penetration, Dirty Talk, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Acceptance, Happy Ending, PTSD John, Coping Mechanisms, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) – It’s almost Christmas, John thinks, and this, this is bullshit. The epilogue to Guilty Secrets. Part 2 of Guilty Secrets

NO! by Tildathings (M, 50,043 w., 36 Ch. || Homophobia, Bed Sharing, Military Uniforms, Past Abuse, Jealous John, Stalking, Violence, First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Pillow Talk, Coming Out, Sherlock’s Past, Shower, Cuddling, Grief and Sorrow, Hugs, Character Death) – Sherlock has been in a coma in over 8 months after he overdosed on the plane at TAB, during which time Mary and Rosie were killed by Vivian Norbury.  This story starts 3 weeks after Sherlock has woken up. John is asking to move back to Baker Street.

What have you done? by Tildathings (M, 63,940+ w., 17/? Ch. || WiP || Interenalized Homophobia, John’s Family, Coming Out, Sherock/OMC, Hugging, Suicide, John Deduce’s, Nightmares, Love Confession, First Date, Bed Sharing, Psychiatry) – John have been invited by Sherlock on a pub night?! Sherlock said to him at Monday that Greg and Mike wanted him to come with them on a pub night. Sherlock is afraid that he would do something wrong socially left alone, so could John come with him? When John arrives at the pub Two Broken Hearts he sees Sherlock talking to a man.

A Change of Heart by SosoHolmesWatson (E, 65,436 w., 20 Ch. || Post-S4 / Canon Compliant, Jealous Sherlock, Past Abuse, Parentlock, Dev. Rel., Idiots in Love, Suicidal Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Mollstrade, Coming Out, Love Confessions, Big Brother Mycroft, John’s Childhood, POV Alternating, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Hand Jobs) – After all they have been through, after all the heartbreak and desolation, John and Sherlock want to make their way back to each other, still convinced that friendship is all that can exist between them. Will there be a change of heart? Part 1 of the The Pains of Growing series

Worst Kept Secrets by Sherlock1110 and sherlockian4evr (M, 61,515+w., 8/? Ch. || WiP || Engagement, Coming Out, Angst and Feels, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Fluff, Scars, Weddings, Honeymoon, Playing Pirates, Parasailing, Archaeology, Paintball, Swimming, Golf) – For the prompt: What if the thing Mycroft did to upset Mummy... was to come out? What if, as a teenager, Mycroft decided to tell his family that he is gay, and his parents disowned him for it? It's okay now, he runs the British Government, he IS the British Government, but there's still that tiny part of him that wants his parent's acceptance, especially now he's found the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Part 4 of the Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff series

Sacré Coeur by Mamaorion (M, 95,235 w., 27 Ch. || S4 Fix It Rewrite, First Kiss, UST / RST, Eventual Happy Ending, Coming Out, Holmes Family, Marriage Proposal, Husbands, Healing, Evil Mary, Beekeeping, Caretaker Sherlock, Mind Palace, Alzheimer’s Disease, Protective / Big Brother Mycroft, TD-12) – In this s4 fixit, John must piece together the gaps in his altered memory if he and Sherlock are to face the terror that has plagued Sherlock since childhood. As they untangle the web, seven years of hidden love ignite.

Full Court Press by MissDavis (E, 126,123 w. || College Basketball AU || Unilock, Masturbation, Homophobia, First Kiss / Time, Oral/Anal, Coming Out, Switchlock, Blowjobs) – Sherlock Holmes has accepted a scholarship to play basketball at the College of St. Bartholomew's. He expects to be their star player and turn the team's losing record around. He does not expect to fall in love with the team's captain, a certain scrappy point guard named John Watson. Or: Sherlock is the team's best shooter. John is the team's best ball-handler.

Nine and a Half Weeks by CumberCurlyGirl and Kameo (E, 175,094+ w., 35/? Ch. || WiP || American AU || Different First Meeting, Daddy Kink, Bottomlock, Anal Plug, Riding Crops, Spanking, Light Bondage, Anal/Oral, Aftercare, Posh John, Virgin Sherlock, Homophobia, Sugar Daddy John, Rimming, Coming in Pants, Light Dom/Sub, Past Sherlock / Victor, Light BDSM, Public Sex, John in a Kilt, Vibrators, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is about to graduate from high school in midwestern America. Despite his intelligence, his prospects are bleak due to poverty, an indifferent, alcoholic father and poor choices. One day, at work, he sells a riding crop to a handsome blonde Brit and his life is changed. He doesn't know what hit him - until he does. This is a story of a journey to love and self-acceptance and explores many themes along the way: drug abuse, grief, coming out, age difference, consent. Lots of sex but so much more.

Of Ice and Men by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 176,906 w., 20 Ch. || Olympics AU || Paralympics, Prosthesis, Disability, Established Relationship, Threesome - Johnlockstrade, Angst with Happy Ending, Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Asexuall Sherlock, Pilot John) – Greg wants Sherlock to win his first Olympic Gold medal. Sherlock wants John to win his first Olympic Gold medal. John wants Greg to come to bed wearing all four of his Olympic Gold medals, and you didn't really think this would be that terribly serious after reading that title, did you? Bundle up, it's a Winter Olympics OT3!

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

[iphoenixrising]

How do you think the boys will react to Dr Tim in fear gas (like full dose of it)??

Hi babe.

I’ve said it before, but ah. Be careful what you wish for, heh. 

But no, really hasn’t poor Dr. Tim been through enough? Guy has already narrowly escaped collapsing bridges, been up close and personal with the Joker, fought off Scarecrow’s goons, AND was smack dab in the middle of an honest-to-God Arkham Riot.Now we’re going to just get him all up in some fear toxin? Good Lord, can the man get a break? He hasn’t had some smut in a while tbh. (winks over to chippon)

BUT.

WARNINGS FOR: 

Mentions of child abuse 

Mentions of gore, blood, grossness 

You will be crying by the end. Guaranteed. 

Extreme mental and emotional HURT 

Tim’s fears are Jesus-Fucking-Christ level bad 

You’ve been warned :D

**

He’s not even back to work yet after that ambulance wreck, still feels the road rash, pulled muscles, and residual owfuck from a little rough and tumble time at Arkham Asylum. 

But, he’s in a convenience store for fuck’s sake because Jay wouldn’t let him have coffee this morning (nah, Sweets. Ya ain’t godda get up yet. Jus’ go back ta sleep wid’ me, yeah? We’re gonna stay here all warm n’ snug. Sshh. I gotcha, Timmy), and he’d managed to wrangle himself out of Jay’s arms when he woke up again, found out there’s only enough grounds for a shitty, weak pot, and Tim can’t even stand the thought of it.

Unfortunately, he gets a whole lot of random bad guys stopping in for those terrible hot dogs and road drinks on their way out of Gotham.

(Crane looks just as horrifying as he remembers from the hospital that one time, and Tim fervently hopes, hopes none of these henchmen recognize him in a beat-up hoodie and saggy sweatpants.)

What makes matters worse?

Crane isn’t even trying to be, you know, an evil villain.

There’s a put-upon sign behind the mask, and the fear gas comes out of nowhere, getting everyone in the store because the guy just doesn’t want to deal with civilians right this moment. He missed the break-out and decided to have a party all on his own, but he hasn’t even gotten the time to get the plan for his next evil scheme ready yet.

So he raises a hand and sprays a little gas to keep people from being lucid enough to call the cops and rat him out. He needs some time for a good getaway.

Tim, however, sees the inevitable coming and is frozen to the spot, can’t get his weak knees to unlock so he can at least try to duck. Instead, he gets it full in the face.

In a sweep, Crane sprays the small store as his henchmen drop a $20 in front of the coughing clerk and take off back out the door. Hotdogs and all.

Tim scrabbles for his phone, the noxious cloud makes his eyes water, his lungs fucking burn on the first choked, shocked breath. Even when he tries to hold his breath, he’s too terrified, knees going out just as he thumbs the screen behind his back.  

“Timmy?” is tinny and far away while he tries to at least breath shallow, eyes dart to the door, his brain tuned into the whole get out and away before the inevitable happens.

He’s got to get to Jay, he’s got to get out of here and get to someone. If he starts talking while hepped up on fear gas, he could give away everyone’s secrets. He could tell random strangers who everyone really is, he could tell anyone their weaknesses, he could put everyone in danger.

Building blocks. If he can get to a lab, to Steph’s, back to his penthouse, anywhere not here, he can probably crack the building blocks of the toxin before it takes him over completely.

He doesn’t even hear, “Baby? Ya there? Didja butt dial again? Thought I tol’ ya ta stay in bed with me, yeah?”

Not with the door right there.

All he has to do is make his weak knees fucking work, ignore the burn in his lungs, his brain, his eyes teary with the cloud still thick around him, with the abrupt slam of his heart in his chest, with the sudden shadows in the niches that hadn’t been there before.

He just has to get to that fucking door. Has to be able to run.

Tim manages to mostly get there before the screaming starts.

**

Dick is working the day shift in the uniform when word Crane struck come over the wire.

Whenever it’s one of the big bads, he gets close enough to get the details before handily disappearing to slip into something a little more comfortable.

(He knows his ass is spectacular in the Nightwing suit.)

A boop from his pocket is his Batcomm notification, and he pops it in just as he dips into the men’s room with a plan to get out one of the usual windows.

“We’ve got Crane on the move, O. Might want to drop B a line.”

“Already aware, Boy Wonder. It’s more severe than you realize.” His phone goes off as Dick is shimmying out the window and up the building where he keeps a spare suit in a nice waterproof bag hidden in the overhang.

When he checks whatever oh shit is added to a potentially deadly scene, he’s got a text from Jay and a picture from O.

Surveillance footage from inside a convenience store where Crane evidently attacked some civilians. His breath catches when one of the faces turned away to try avoiding the gas is–

Timmy.

“Fuck,” is a little breathless with a very different kind of fear, and Dick immediately turns it up a notch, throwing his suit on and slapping a domino over his eyes. “What can you tell me, O?”

Quick check on what he’s got to work with.

“B and Rob are already in pursuit. Signal is approaching to assist. As far as we can tell, this is the only place Crane managed to hit. Everyone’s mostly been accounted for by GCPD.”

“I sense a but coming–” and he checks his phone two seconds before time to fly, and the text from Jay is something about Tim and screaming, and now he won’t pick up the phone...

“O?” Because dread strikes him in the chest.

“He’s the only civilian missing. He must have already taken off before the patrol car got there.”

“He was hit with fear gas, and he took off?”

The jumpline is already in his hand before he even hits the edge of the roof at a run. It’s go time.

So, it’s a race to find Tim, all doped up on fear toxin and probably tripping out of his mind in one of the most dangerous cities in America where people like the Joker and Two-Face might hold a grudge.

Jason was already suited up before he sent that text to Dickie, was outta there when the sounds came over the line, the familiar screams. It’s a particular flavor of terror spelled out that Timmy, was probably in trouble.

He hits up O with the deets while Nightwing hits the almost-night, making the first swing fucking count.

**

The world alters and shift around him, almost throwing him off his feet more than once.

He’s already completely lost his sense of direction, trying to keep his eyes closed in a last ditch effort to keep the hallucinations at bay.

(It’s just chemicals fucking with your brain. You can beat this. It’s not real. None of it is real. You know that. You know it’s just–

Brick under his fingertips, abrading the sensitive skin. Stumbles over a curb, and the loud whonkkkkk almost rips a surprised yip out of him. Tim cracks his eyes open, heart picking up when the yellow lights look like the porch light from the Johnson’s house–

– before they brought him back.

“He’s…a special child. He needs more than we can give him–”

“He can’t get along with the other children, so I’m afraid–”

“Well, you see. Mary is pregnant! It’s-it’s a miracle, and we like Tim, really we do–“

Tim grits his teeth, hears so much wahwahwah than anyone really talking, telling him to get the hell out of the street, what is he thinking?

But instead of a shadow of a motorist that had pretty much almost run him over, all he can see is Detective Gordon, way back when he’d been the one to come to the Drake’s manor and give him the news.

His mom and dad weren’t coming back, not ever.

“N-No,” he whimper screams, slamming his eyes closed, and takes off again. It’s a full tilt run, every person he meets with someone else’s face.

Michael McCannon, the guy that beat the shit out of his foster kids.

Lilly Wright, wanted the income from having a foster in her house, didn’t care if he went to school, if he slept, if he ate, if he was dead in a gutter because he fell off a roof running after–

He smacks his palms into brick, scraping his face, turns and there’s Tony Stark back when he’d first met. Intimidating and imposing, eyes narrowed in distaste.

He runs faster, only half recognizes the buildings as he goes. He knocks into someone, eats face in an alley, panting and sweating, eyes full of tears, brain on fucking fire.

“Drake!” Hissed from the shadows, the darkness parting for red, gold, and green.

But it’s too much red, too much red.

“N-no, nonono,” and now he’s outright sobbing, scrabbling to his feet because Dami, Dami, is in a ragged, torn tunic, skin broken and blood fucking pouring out of him.

He’s got both hands on the vigilante, brain failing him, spitting out the mortality rate of being run the fuck through.

“No, no, no Dami, Dami,” he’s pressing on the worst wound, tears streaming down his face, babbling incoherently, apologizing, begging this kid, the little brother he should have had, not to fucking die and leave him too.

Robin, laying where the doctor had apparently thrown him, is staring up in shock, hands on Drake’s forearms where he’s pressing at some imaginary wound.

“Don’t die, Dami. Stay with me! Please stay with me!” Is fairly screamed in the cold night.

And Robin catches his breath at this, this, as one of Drake’s worst fears.

“D-Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I-I can’t lose you, too.” Tim weeps, pulling both hands back, staring down at what must see as blood and viscera.

“I am sorry, Timothy,” Robin breathes out hoarsely, frees a hand to pull back, teeth clenched against what he’s about to do, and punches their doctor with real intent.

As he hopes, Tim goes down like a stone, unconscious on the dirty ground, tears still on his face from terror and grief.

In a breath, Robin is on his feet, kneeling over Drake, tapping the comm in his ear. “Hood, N, Father. I have located him. He has been…affected. I am uncertain if the anti-toxin in my belt would do further harm, so I have not administered it as of yet.”

“Rob,” Hood’s response is immediate, “Big Wing’s with Daddy Bat takin’ care a’ the last of ‘em.  I’m headin’ atcha now.”

“Meet me at the Black Bird. Hurry,” Robin cuts off, and gently, oh so gently for his normal, lifts Tim’s upper body against his chest, points a gauntlet at the roof to fire the jump line, reel them both in.

At sixteen, the youngest vigilante has nearly outgrown the doctor, and has no trouble lifting Tim up to carry him across the roof, occasionally looking down to make sure Tim is still out.

His own vehicle, the Black Bird, is hidden close to a safe house for the Bats. Balancing Tim in his arms, he taps his utility belt, the container hiding the car folding away.

Hood is on the ground, immediately takes Timmy from Rob, looking at the scrapes on his face.

“In, in!” Robin snaps, shooing Hood in the back with their Doctor. “We must get him to the Cave immediately.”

He dives in the driver’s seat, revving the engine fast, tapping his mask for the whiteouts to slide up. He takes in the immediate area with a glance, and peels out into the night.

Jay deactivates the helmet, tosses it in the front seat, wraps both arms around Timmy in his lap, tapping the comm to listen up at Dickie and B on clean-up whiles he winds up to get all the deets outta the Demon.

“Tell it ta me straight, Lil’ D. How bad wassit?”

He’s looking in the rearview because the kid’s eyes always give him away.

He ain’t prepared to see the Demon blinking rapidly, jaw clenched tight. “He is fully effected. Hallucinations, inability to discern outside voices. I called to him. He was not able to hear me. See me, yes, but he believed I was…dying. He attempted to treat me, asked me not to…”

Robin makes a hard right turn, shoves his foot against the pedal to drift it. He shoves in the clutch, shifts the gears, biting down on his lower lip (“Don’t leave me, I can’t lose you.”).

He evens out, hitting the Robert Kane Bridge to take them out of Gotham proper and closer to the Manor.

“Dames?” Jay makes it soft because the kid is obviously shook.

Robin pushes the car to 105 mph to sail over the bridge.

“His fear was he would be unable to save me. The wound…he believed the wound made by Hush would kill me yet again, I believe.”

Jason Todd breathes in sharply, freeing up a hand to fit at the back of Rob’s neck, make circles with his thumb.

“Sorry that mighta brought ya back.” His tone is low with sympathy, empathy.

And for a moment, Damian Wayne, not Robin, leans back into that hand, lets it ground him while the night flies by the window, while he watches the darkness for everything while he downshifts, when the road starts getting less defined further out of the city they go.

“It is not that,” Damian admits, “one day, one of us, perhaps all of us, will not return. Nothing he can do will prevent that.”

“I know, Baby Bat. Let’s hope it ain’t any day soon, you feel me?” And Jay, tries to keep it gentle, tries to keep the circles going, tries to be easy about it so Baby Bat won’t try ta pull away, put it all back inna box to fester.

“Agreed. However, do not be surprised if he comes to fighting. We must monitor his vitals closely if this toxin is similar to the last batch.”

“I gotcha. S’all right, we’re gonna take care of him, ain’t we?”

Damian makes an affirmative noise and leans forward out of Jay’s grip, pressing the gas, then gearing back up.

**

Tim comes to as the restraints are tightened, Alfred Pennyworth securing several sticky discs to his chest, and a pulse oximeter to his finger.

“We’ll see you soon, Son. Be a good boy while we’re gone.”

Makes his eye fly open wide, his heart slam painfully against his rib cage, his arms jerk where his wrists are restrained.

“Boys,” a cultured voice calls the second his eyes open, but Tim can’t see anything, not with his heart in his throat, not with his Dad’s voice ghosting out after over a decade and a half.

When he glances over, horrified at the tall figure coming closer, hands raised up in surrender, and his eyes were empty, gorey sockets, black sludge from the empty cavity. Purple lips and half-rotting flesh, the last clothes he’d seen his father wearing, his best suit, the one he’d wear to Drake Industries on the stints they were home and Dad worked in the office.

Tatters and grave dirt, bone peeking out from shriveled flesh…

“Dad,” is a broken, hoarse croak, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried. I tried to be good,” and the closer his dead, decaying Father gets, the more he fights whatever is keeping him still, won’t let him run for his own fucking sanity, “I tried! I tried and you still didn’t come home! It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t–!”

He chokes, gags because Dad is right by the bedside, and now Tim can see the inside of his black mouth, the tongue putrid and pale without blood, and the smell–

He’s probably screaming, even if he can’t hear himself.

Something is strapped over his face, and he fights it, knows it’s a plastic mask, pumping something into his lungs, just like the fear toxin.

A turn of the head, and it’s the reversal of his first meeting with-with

The Joker.

Harley isn’t on the table bleeding out this time. It’s the two of them standing over him, a huge needle full of green sludge right by the Joker’s shoulder, right next to his horrifically sick smile.

He’s wearing a mock head lamp and white coat, Tim’s own badge dangling from his pocket. He turns to the smaller figure of Harley, the nurse sidekick with a frightening set of tools. The orbitoclast is brown with old blood and brain matter, the leucotome wire is rusty, the plunger to send that wire into his brain almost black with old gore.

And he fucking chokes.

“Hold on to those, Nurse. If my wonderful formula doesn’t do the trick, then we’ll have options! Huh, huh, huh,” and the bastard leans into him, that sickening smile, those wide, lucid eyes.

“He’s going to be our good boy, one way or the other, isn’t he?” And the dark growl of it, the promise is what makes him start screaming again.

Hands on his straining arms, a big body right by the bed when he turns, flinches away as far as the hold could let him.

“Oh no. No no no,” is a whimper, a plea, “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Mr. Johnson, I swear. I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

The grip on his arms becomes bruising, painful, terrifying all over again.

Tim clamps down, remembers the beatings hadn’t been as bad if he could keep quiet.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a little shit.”

It’s Mr. Johnson’s words, but Jason’s voice.

“You need a good ass beaten’, kid. That’ll straighten you right out. That’s what all you fuckers need. Lucky for you I don’t mind making sure you keep on the straight and narrow.”

He doesn’t realize he’s chanting, “don’thitme, don’tdon’tdon’t, please please,  don’t,” while Mr. Johnson backs off, the old recriminations and reprimands rolling right out in Jay’s smooth baritone.

He’s outright sobbing, arms trembling above his head where he’s trapped, trapped. He can’t move, he can’t run, he can’t hide, he can’t–

And a blink takes him to the same fire escape outside his penthouse where he’d found Nightwing bleeding out, pulse already weakening, breathing shallow–

“What–“

The whiteouts on that domino are up so he can see Nightwing’s blue eyes flutter open weakly, can see the hand move gingerly to the bleeding wound on his abdomen.

“I can help you,” he yells out, hoping to make those eyes look at him, to get the vigilante to come to him, “I can save you, but you’ve got to get here.” This time his hands, his arms, his whole body is straining to get free, to reach the vigilante that needs him, that’s dying on him while he fucking watches.

The vigilante half-smiles at him, finger stripes more dark than blue, and his head goes back, visibly slumping.

“Nightwing, Nightwing, look at me! Open your eyes!” He knows he’s begging, fighting, but there’s bands around his chest, around his wrists, his ankles and thighs.

“I need, I need sutures, gloves, blood bag, and-and, I need, I need–“ but Nightwing’s head flops and his chest stutters, “LOOK AT ME! You can’t die like this, you can’t. I’m right here, I can save you!”

He sobs out loud, whole body jerking to get free.

“Ssshhh, baby doll, ssshhh,” makes him open his eyes even though he can barely see through the tears streaming down his face, his sobbing, his heart pounding copper in the back of his throat.

And there’s Jay, lying on his chest, all soft and sweet, with a post-sex grin. He’s too beautiful to be real.

“Jay?” He croaks.

“Yeah,” all soft and sweet.

Until he tilts his head, and the horrific smile below his chin leaks rich red down his throat.

“J-Jay?!” His eyes go wide and horrified because there’s his vigilante boyfriend bleeding out all over his chest, far gone enough to be silly and loopy with blood loss.

“S’okay, yeah? When s’time, s’time. Don’t gotta be sad about it, Timmy.”

“N-No, no, put-Jay, listen to me, put pressure on it, okay? Put both hands and press down. You-you’re loosing too much blood. I need you to–“

“That ain’t what’s happening here, Timmers.” Slurry and low, Jay’s face getting pale, eyes fluttering. “Like I tol’ ya b’fore. One day…one day I ain’t gonna come back. S’ just gonna be my time.”

And Tim’s shirt is wet with it, Jay’s blood staining him, soaking through his clothes, the weight of his big body heavier as his strength goes, as his eyes get dimmer, the jade flecks all but gone.

“You can’t. Jay, babe, you can’t. You have to fight. Please fight,” his hands are straining, but he’s so tired, weak, isn’t strong enough to get to them, to save them from their fates. "I don't... I can't be the last one left standing again. I can't. Please, fight. Please!"

'"Nah, Baby. Small right now. Love ya. Love ya s'much."

"I love you too," he sobs, can't breathe, can't think.

(He’s never been strong enough, has he? He’s not strong enough to be what they need.)

He finally can’t fight anymore, just stays pinned under Jay’s weakening body to cry and shake apart.

**

“Do something,” Dick yells, tears running down his face where he’s pinning Tim’s legs down so he stops hurting himself fighting the restraints.

Alfred, eyes narrow and wet-looking, huffs and turns on his heel abruptly. He fishes out supplies from the cabinet, uses a clean hypodermic to puncture the sedative.

Master Jason is staring up at Master Tim’s face, trying to be that boy in the Robin cape from all those years ago. Trying to be strong in the face of such horrors.

“Master Bruce, account for general anesthesia,” Alfred calls briskly and injects carefully into the IV.

“Understood,” the quickly working vigilante calls back from the lab, running the number a second time, darting looks at his children doing one of the hardest jobs he’s ever asked them to do.

He can tell by how Damian’s shoulders are shaking, Dick is opening crying against Tim’s hip, Jay’s lower lip trembling, eyes wet where he’s keeping Tim’s forearms pinned around the IV in his arm.

He add the variables, taking deep breaths, makes mental notes all over the place to look into Tim’s past foster parents.

Johnson. Right.

And the hardened bat can’t say his heart isn’t thundering in his throat watching Tim’s struggle, scream, cry out in grief, trying to use his reasoning and logic, having the fucking Joker of all people as part of his perpetual nightmares…

Bruce takes a calming breath, forces himself to be the Bat while he aches for the kids.

**

Twelve hours later, he comes to somewhere not his Penthouse or Dick’s apartment.

It’s chilly wherever he is, but for some reason his whole body just aches, hurts like he’d been in another damn car wreck or something. It’s too much effort to lift his head and look around, not when he’s pretty sure he’s in Dick’s lap, recognizes the smell of Dick’s jugular.

He hums a little, glad someone at least gave him a blanket because he’s at least mostly warm. His nose is pretty cold, but he just snuggles into Dick’s neck and sighs.

He tries to raise his knees to fold in, get warmer, but his heels bump into legs, and cracking his eyes open, he realizes Jay is sitting by Dick on the floor of the Cave, Tim laying over their laps.

He’s got a cotton ball taped to the inside of his forearm, and no idea why. He blinks a few times, lifts up enough to see Dami on Jay’s other side, head nudged against Jay’s shoulder. A hand is still on Tim’s ankle.

The sudden need to go to the bathroom drives him from their huddle on the cold floor, but at least he spreads the blanket out over them after he manages to pull out of their arms without waking them.

From their faces and expressions, whatever he isn’t immediately remembering couldn’t have been good.

But first, bathroom. Then, maybe coffee? Because that? Would be absolutely stellar at this juncture. Maybe some ibuprofen.

Luckily, there’s swanky digs in the Bat Cave, a set of lockers, showers, nice hot tub for long soaks after a night of kicking bad guy ass.

All the vigilante amenities.

He’s bleary and sore, staggering to the bathroom, noting B is asleep on the big computer, and Alfred sitting back in another chair, tea cup and saucer on the hard drive next to him.

He smiles a little, wonders if he can find a few more blankets somewhere.

A glance in the mirror as he was washing his hands shows him a bunch of road rash city. Man, he must have been caught up in the middle of something again.  

Seriously.

He splashes cold water on his face, works out the low throbbing ache of his bandaged wrists.

He’s shuffling back, thinking about just waking everyone the hell up to send people to bed, like themselves because his ass is numb, and there’s warm beds upstairs. When there’s pounding footsteps, skitters, and slides, whoosh of air, and Dick is right there up in his face, panting like he’d just sprinted all the way across the Cave in a quick hurry.

“Timmy?!”

He blinks up, still bleary about everything, his throat and voice wrecked as fuck, “hey honey. How was your night fighting shitty bad guys?”

He has no idea why Dick’s expression crumples, his eyes getting teary out of nowhere. He’s not prepared for Dick to start crying, to see his beautiful boyfriend hold a hand over his eyes and break down.

“Dick? Dick?”

He goes from holding himself, shuddering with the cold and ache in his bones, to up in Dick’s face, hand on his shoulder, looking for some injury, something to tell him how to help–

But Dick takes a few shuddering breaths under his hand, and Tim just wriggles his arms around Dick’s chest to hold on for a few long seconds before he gets full-on octopus hold right around his everything.

(Okay, that’s a relief.)

“…was it bad?” He asks softly, making circles with his palms as wide as Dick’s hold will let him.

“Y-Yes. It was bad. You don’t remember?” Dick sniffles against the side of his head, rocking them both gently.

“Not yet.” He shrugs an unconcerned shoulder. As someone who’s had a concussion (okay, okay, concussions), and has worked in the medical field in one of the most dangerous cities on the fucking planet, he knows there are plenty of bad guys with chemical weapons that don’t always leave short term memories in tact.

Dick shakes a little and holds him tighter.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Didja find 'im??!” As Jay rounds the corner and almost slams right into them.

He skids to a stop as Dick swiftly shifts them around out of the way. Jay doesn’t do anything to dislodge Dick’s grip, but palms the sides of Tim’s face, his eyes a hard, icy blue.

“Hey, Sweets, hey,” low in a dark way, not the usual, fun dark way. Tim has a strike of fear, takes stock of himself, of Dick, of Jay, wonders who else in the Cave might be hurt! That’s why they’re here. Someone got hurt coming after his ass, didn’t they?

“Dami? B?” He interrupts, eyes going from Jay to Dick and back.

“Fine, everyone’s fine,” is curt, short with him in a way that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t have enough evidence.

“O-kay. You both are fine. B and Dami are fine. Alfred?”

Over his head, his boyfriends exchange a look that is really starting to worry him.

But the next twelve hours are virtually impossible to escape. The sordid details come out once Tim remembers being in that convenience store. He gets snatches of half-lucid memories, probably never will remember the entire things. The brain is the most fascinating part of the body for a reason, not only as the control center, but also as the decision-maker on what things to blot out to protect itself. 

By the time Dami starts out, they’ve migrated up to Wayne Manor, parted ways to shower and wash off the night. Dick and Jay bracketing him in, being absurdly gentle, consistent soft touches, fingers wrapping around his, hands on his back, kisses pressed into his hair.

There’s some scrapes on his forearms along with the ones on his face, washed gingerly in the shower where he finally feels warm again. Alfred leaves a special bled of his healing goop and has set out pajamas for all of them before he left, requesting them to please come have breakfast.

Tim’s stomach rumbles while they’re getting dressed, and he’s pretty much picked up, and carried down the massive staircase.

(Ugh, this is after the bridge fiasco all over again.)

But the end result: food and coffee in Wayne Manor, so bonus?

Dami is looking at him like a kicked puppy. A perpetual pissed off kicked puppy, but he tilts his head to the side inquiringly, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“I found you almost at Sheldon Park,” Dami starts softly, but at least everyone’s eaten first.

He flinches a little when Bruce tells him what he’d said about his Dad. When Alfred tells him about the Joker and Harley Quinn either going to inject him with some crazy sauce or lobotomize him.

(Yup. Pretty horrifying either way.)

Dami tells him about seeing everyone die around him while Dick has a firm hand on his knee under the table, their chairs closer together than necessary. Jason gives no shits keeping his fingers wrapped up tight, squeezing occasionally. Alfred keeps the mug in his free hand full, stands just by Dick’s other shoulder.

“I mean,” he finally starts after everything is out in the open, “it’s literally a toxin that fucks with your brain chemistry. Not shocking I’d see pretty awful things. I see awful things...a lot, so,” he shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the whole family looking utter raw and split open. “I...I’m...sorry, really sorry I worried everyone. I’ll try to stop getting into trouble so much, you know? But, um. It is Gotham.”

The family crowds around him, bringing in rank around the table. 

And if he doesn’t have to stay at the Manor for the next week, geeze, and get coddled as fuck by the Batfamily, and get picked up from Mercy General every. single. night. for a while, and get wrapped up against two incredible vigilantes that whisper soft things against his throat, his ear, his mouth, his, well, his everything. 

If he doesn’t get Bruce herding him into the study where the fire is burning, and it seems like the Batman is the most patient person ever to let him–let him talk about some of those old pains when he was in the system. 

If Alfred literally can not make him eat enough food to be satisfied. Ever. And gives him a side-eye when he starts to push away a plate that has even a bite left.

(Alfred pizza is god-level, and you’ll never convince him otherwise. But if he eats anymore, he’s going to die. Please stop killing him with your tasty love.)

If Dami doesn’t make him watch NatGeo Wild with popcorn and boxes of candy, then grudgingly plays Mario Kart with him until Rainbow Road is like theirs. No questions asked.

If he finally doesn’t go back to his penthouse, breathes in the familiar smells, gets absolutely destroyed in the Best. Possible. Ways for the next five straight hours. If he isn’t a boneless pile of I can’t possibly come again, for the next week at least. 

If Baby Bird, Timmers, Sweets, Timmy, and Baby aren’t wrapped around him with arms and sweet kisses pressed to his forehead and hair every time he leaves for work or they leave for patrol.

If he was before this, in the slightest bit uncertain he belongs with them, as part of their family–

–he sure as hell knows better now.

At least that’s one less thing to be afraid of.

**

Note:

In Tim’s fear fueled delusion, the Joker is Alfred, Harley is Dami holding equipment to treat him. His dad was really B taking the blood samples from Alfred to analyze. He’s horrified once he realizes what Tim is seeing.

Mr. Johnson, the abusive foster parent is Jay, which Tim kind of associates because of the accent.

Dying Nightwing is Dick bent over to hold his legs down, and the next switch is really Jay laying over him upper body to keep him from hurting himself more.

(Congrats for making it to the end. *Hands tissue*)

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Friday Night Stabby best quotes part 8 (08/01/21)

...

*as the round starts* Etho: Have fun, everybody! :D Brody: That’s too positive, get that outta here. Etho: It’s gonna be a great game! :D

...

*body is found in navigation* Brody: Where were you just now, Skizz? Skizz: Okay, this is gonna be great… I just left navigation. I didn’t see Mrs Tango, but I saw Evil. Looked like he was doing a task. Impulse: What form of travel did you use, Skizz? Did you use the hallway or the vent? Skizz: Oh shut up.

...

Brody: You sounded a little too excited, there. Impulse: Don’t you ever get excited to watch somebody get murdered in front of you? Joker: I get excited about that.

...

Impulse: Oh, Skizz is about to kill me, isn’t he? Skizz: *kills Impulse*

...

Endless: I just wanna do Simon Says ONE time without being interrupted. Brody: Nope. Mrs Tango: Not possible.

...

*body is reported* Tango: Body in electrical. *pause* Endless: Do you have any more information? Tango: Nope. *pause* Endless: Was it you? Tango: No. Etho: Why weren’t you in reactor? Tango: I was- Listen, I am so flustered and angry right now. I literally stood in storage and vibrated for like ten seconds, alright? That’s why I’m late.

...

Endless: Surprise, I was trying to do Simon Says again and got interrupted yet again. Joker: That sounds like a ‘you’ problem.

...

Impulse: I knew it was risky killing Skizz but I HAD to get him. He’s killed me three times so far tonight. Skizz: I knew it! I knew that must’ve felt so good, man. Impulse: Yeah, for all of two seconds, until I got busted by Joker! Skizz: You sure did. It was delicious.

...

Brody: Joker, I’m gonna tell you I’m really proud of you. Joker: What?! You are?! Someone clip that! Tango: Why? Brody: Because he’s, like, actively saying “I don’t think it was this person cuz they’re there” and “I think it was this person cuz they’re over here”. Endless: I will second that. I was gonna say earlier that Joker was awfully suspicious cuz he was playing all… real. Brody: He’s suspicious cuz he’s being helpful!

...

Evil: I was wandering around as a ghost and I saw Etho vent, and RIGHT after he vented, Mister Joker hit the button and was like “Impulse! How about that vent?” and I’m like “wait a minute… what…?” Tango: Wrong person! Etho: Yeah I know, that got me. Impulse: His heart probably dropped, skipped a beat.

...

Tango: Starting. Brody: Is Mrs Tango here? Tango: …oh! Nope! *game starts* Brody: Way to go, jerk. Tango: She’ll- She’ll get there. Brody: You’re the worst.

...

Endless: Can we find out where Skizz is? Cuz he’s not talked yet and I wanna know where he was. *silence* Brody: Skizz? Endless: Thanks, Skizz, ‘ppreciate it. Brody: Skizz?! Skizz, in his altered high pitched voice: Ah, wait, hold on a second- Brody: Is that your murdering voice, Skizz?

...

Skizz: Endless- Endless: I was looking for the report button, sorry. Skizz: I came across the hallway and there was a dead Mrs Tango. She’d been dead for a while, already starting to stink, and Endless was just there kicking her in the ribs.

...

Skizz: *calls emergency meeting* Skizz: I stand by it’s Tody! Everyone: … Impulse: Who’s…? What? Skizz: Tango and Brody. Impulse: Oh.

...

Impulse: Here’s the deal: a lot of us were in reactor to fix it just now, right? As I leave reactor to go down and over to admin, guess who shows up late to the party? Astrozoan goes running past me. I bet he wishes he coulda killed me but he was on cooldown because he had just killed Mrs Tango. Bada bing bada boom, case closed. Astro’s the killer. Etho: Ohhhhh snappers! Astro: I was late, but I was over in navigation so it took me that long to get there. Tango: Is your only evidence that he was late? Impulse: And my bones. Tango: OH the bones. Alright, then.

...

Brody: I also believed it was Astro but it was the Impulse show, I dunno if you noticed but he was talking a lot. Skizz: He really was. Tango: Impulse was talking a LOT, yeah. Skizz: It was the whole “bada bing bada boom!” and I was like “I don’t care if he is or not, I kinda wanna kill him in real life right now.”

...

Brody: I’d just like to point out that Tango’s dead. Endless: Yeah, we don’t care. Brody: ...okay.

...

Impulse: *reports a body* Impulse: Okay! Well, that one was easy. Alright, hang on. I watched a murder, I need to calm down for a second. *calm voice* Skizzleman just killed Mister Joker right in front of me. Tango: Ah, you can hear it in his voice! It’s Impulse! Impulse: Oh my god, I hate you all.

...

Skizz: I had nothing on that last round, Impulse. Nothing. You had me dead to rights. And the best part- Mrs Tango, are you back? Can you hear me? I think you walked away. Mrs Tango: Are you gonna complain about me right now? Skizz: You’re gosh darn right I am! Impulse: Ouch. Skizz: Not hitting the double kill is one thing but then my only saving grace was for you to be like “no, I saw it too. I saw Impulse do it” but you were all “I dunno, I wasn’t watching” and I’m like “what’s happening right now?!” Impulse: Oh man, this is two sessions in a row that Skizz and Mrs Tango are having a little beef. Skizz, you’re probably not gonna be invited over to the Tangos’ anymore. Skizz: I don’t have beef with her! Impulse: Ah, well, you did say “that witch-like cackle” in the last one, so, I mean… Etho, returning from break: Did I miss something spicy here? Skizz: It was after she killed Tango last week and she went “ehehehehehehehehehehehe!” It was creepy! Tango: My wife has the best laugh on the planet. You wanna take this outside? I’ll fight you.

...

Joker: I just watched Mrs Tango kill Endless! Evil: Can you blame her, though? Joker: Not really.

...

*Joker reports seeing Brody kill Etho after also witnessing Mrs Tango kill Endless* Impulse: Unless Joker’s big-braining this and is about to get out two innocents- Joker: I have a small brain. Tango: If the game’s not over right now, we vote for Joker. Brody: Yeah, no, it was me. I intentionally did that while the lights were out, cuz I was like “well, this is gonna be a rough one, let’s do something interesting.”

...

Impulse: I had a lot of tasks still to do cuz I’ve spent the entire round running away from EvilNotion. Impulse: And guess what? Look at the screen. Look at the screen. I’m alive for one reason.

...

Astro: I was actually- I was initially aiming for you, Joker, but I missed and Brody was just right behind you, so… Brody: That’s… not very nice. Astro: Well, you know what they say: you just have to be faster than one person. Brody: Nobody says that. Astro: I’m sure somebody’s said it.

...

Joker: I’m sorry, Evil, but I’m really suspicious of you. Evil: I mean, you can be suspicious but it wasn’t me. I can promise you that. Joker, sarcastic: I’m glad I have your permission.

...

Impulse: I don’t think it’s Skizz. I’ll tell you that. Cuz, like, Skizz has had- uh oh. Skizz: *kills Impulse*

...

Etho: I passed Skizzle in the dark, I think. Running away from lights. So that’s… pretty normal. Impulse: Yeah, Skizz does that, so that’s not really useful information. Skizz: Shut uuuup!

...

Skizz: I have to say something to Etho. Etho, even when we’re crewmates, your knowledge, your acumen, is annoying. Like, the amount you know about this game is ridiculous, man. Impulse: Etho, he called you annoying. Let’s vote him out.

...

Joker: Have you both already voted for me? Astro: Yeah. Joker: Well… I regret NOTHING and I’m GLAD I killed a bunch of people because I haven’t had a chance to and you ALL had it coming!

[tinyboxxtink]

I Hate Mondays-- (An Abel Plenkov/Reader OS)

Ya'll I just saw "My Soul To Take" last night and Raul as 'The Ripper' aka Abel Plenkov.....FUCCKKKK!!!

You already know I had a million ideas running through my mind. This was the first. It's dark, it's smutty, it's super angsty and...dark. Be warned.

I fucking love it.

ALL under the cut. Because...yes.

IDK if my tag list wants to read this, but just in case...

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

-----------------------

“Ah, oh yes...fuck fuck fuck fuccccckkk baby yes--”

You were just about to orgasm when you felt the fist around your neck go limp and release you. You looked down to see the sad sack alter ego of your lover staring up at you in fear, his body now trembling.

“Aw for FUCK’S sake Abel,” You growled as you hopped of him. “You really know when to ruin a good time, don’t you?”

“W-W-Where am I?” His voice shook as he realized he was laying in a pool of blood. And not his own.

“You know where the fuck you are, Abel,” You groaned, losing your lady wood quickly. “Now where the fuck did you stash my Ripper?”

“Rip--I don’t know, Y/N!” He suddenly started getting his bearings. He’d woken up here too many times, and every time was even more horrifying.

“Really? Because we were just in the middle of having some god damn fun, and here you come out to piss all over it!” You nodded at his now wet crotch, he’d pissed himself as soon as he had come to.

“Y/N please, I didn’t mean to--” He begged you as he saw you going for your bat.

“Y’know you are SO lucky that you have Ripp’s body, or else I would gut you right here and now,” You hissed, revving up the bat in your hand.

“Okay first of all, ‘Ripper’ doesn’t have a body. His body was my body first!” Abel yelled in a semi forceful tone.

“Oooh, got some lip on you tonight, do ya Honest Abe?” You licked your lips with a smirk.

“A-All I’m saying is-- why, why don’t you just kill me? Put me out of my misery, please. It’d be better than cheating on my wife all the time, hurting my kids…” He began to blubber.

“A-And then his soul could go into another body, one who wouldn’t mind all of---this,” He gestured around the two bodies lying around the room. A guy and a girl, one for each of you. You and Ripper would like to have…’dinner’ first, as you’d call it before your hard core fucking. It was absolute heaven rolling around in other people’s blood.

“Yeah right, and risk his soul going into some rando?” You cackled. “What if it went into a chick? I ain’t carpet licking nothin!” You gagged.

“Or worse….” You made a horrified face. “What if it went into a fattie?!”

“P-P-Please, Y/N….” He pleaded with you.

“Unfortunately, for you Abel baby,” You pointed the bat into his chest, leading him backwards to the bed once more. “I enjoy your body. I know it, and it knows me,”

“B-But….” He tried to stop crying, but you scared the shit out of him. “Y-You don’t want to have sex with me, I’m just--”

“A fucking pussy?” You smirked.

“Yeah, I know baby, you ain’t gotta remind me. Your flaccid dick proves that real good,” You grabbed his limp penis, making him cry out in pain.

“Which is why...” You backed into him until he was laying on the bed and you were looming over him, the bat right under his chin. “....You’re gonna gimme back my baby boy right now, or I’mma beat him outta you,”

“No! Please!” He begged you, snot dripping down his pathetic sobbing mess of a face. It disgusted you to no end having to see Ripper’s face so fucking pitiful.

“It’s n-not like a magic trick, Y/N! I can’t---can’t control it,” He was heaving now with sobs.

“Fine, just know you brought this on yourself, Abel,” You raised the bat high above your head, ready to knock his nuts off, but when your swing came down towards his body, one of his arms stopped the bat dead in its tracks.

“...Now I know, you weren’t going to hit me with that, my little slut,” Ripper’s voice came from Abel’s body with an evil grin.

“Ripp,” You gulped. “N-No, baby I was trying to get you back from that bitch’s little mind prison,”

“Ah, I see,” He ripped the bat from your hands and tossed it across the room. “But see, you always seem to forget-- you damage this body, I damage YOU,”

His blood soaked hands were instantly around your throat as he roughly jammed his now rock hard erection into your throbbing pussy. He flipped you around so he was pounding on top of you, his grasp still tight around your neck.

His eyes filled with lustful glee as he saw your face turn purple, listening to your gagging made him come faster every time. He let out a mighty demonic roar as he ejaculated into you, choking you to the point of passing out. He let go right before you lost consciousness, and the wave of an orgasm washed over you like a ice cold shower, bringing you back from the brink. You screamed in absolute ecstasy, Ripp knew how to give you the best orgasms of your life.

After you were both done, Ripp grabbed your bloody face in his bloody hands, licking all of the girl corpse’s blood off your face and neck.

“Fuck you taste so good, my little whore…” He panted while he lapped up the blood like a hungry dog.

“Mmmm yes daddy, lick me clean,” You moaned in pleasure while sucking the blood off his chest and nipples.

“Wait-- Fuck, he’s...he’s winning again, Y/N,” Ripp stopped licking you and looked at you in anger. “FUCK!”

“No! Fuck him! Stay with me, baby…” You practically whined.

“....Until next time, my love,” He growled softly, in his own romantic way.

“Dammit,” You muttered, as you saw Abel’s face wash back over into his body.

“Oh my...Oh my GOD…” He realized he was now covered in blood from head to toe, and had recently ejaculated. His penis was sore from the rough fucking Ripp liked to do, it damaged his body more and more every time he came to in this God forsaken hell hole you called a house.

“Mmmm…” You flipped his quivering body over and licked his salty tears from his bloody face while he continued to sob.

“Y’know I don’t know what tastes better Abel, your cum or your tears,” You gave him a wicked smile.

“You’re the devil, you know that?” He glared at you.

“Nahhh, I just fuck him,” You winked as you tossed him a towel.

“Now, go take a shower and run home to the missus, wouldn’t want her finding out your dirty little secret…” You mocked him by putting a finger to his mouth with an evil cackle.

Abel did as you said and bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door, ready to take as many hot showers as he needed to to wash the sin off of him.

As you heard him crying in the shower, you began your usual clean up. You grabbed a bone saw and a horse trough of bleach, ready to dissolve the corpses. One day you’d make Abel help you with the clean up, when he could do it without vomiting.

While you were humming to yourself getting the tarps picked up, you felt a wet sensation on your face. Left over blood? You put a finger to your eye and pulled it back. You were...leaking.

“Fuck…” You growled, throwing down the tarp and going for a beer bottle in the corner.

You broke it on the floor and took a long shard, dragging it down your arm until you saw blood pooling out. The physical pain was good, it centered you. It distracted you from stupid things like emotions. You couldn’t sit around pining for your demon boyfriend, you had shit to do.

You must have stared at the blood for a little too long, as you started to feel dizzy from a lot of it now dripping across the floor. Before you knew what was happening, you felt Abel running over and wrapping a towel around your arm, rubbing your face.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” His voice sounded miles away.

“Wha--” You suddenly came to, realizing the dickhole was coddling you. “Get the fuck off of me, white bread!”

What would Ripp do if he could see you from in there? What if he saw you being weak like some fucking school girl?

“I was just trying to help--” He said softly.

“You can help me by getting the FUCK out of here,”

“...R-Right, sorry,” He quickly pulled on his shirt and pants, holding his shoes as he dashed down the stairs and out the front door.

“Fucking Christ…” You sighed, going to get some gauze to wrap your mutilated arm in before you started to clean up again.

“I hate Mondays.”

[vetlan]

Summary: Nothing says "Impromptu Darkwing Duck Reunion" like being arrested for something a group of lookalikes did, and then being bailed out by a… Darkwing Duck cosplayer? Fanboy? Well, there were odder things that happened in relation to that cursed show.

Characters Present: Megavolt ( Actor ), Quackerjack ( Actor ), Liquidator ( Actor ), Bushroot ( Actor ), Darkwing Duck ( Drake Mallard )

Notes: The Actors are named after the original Voice Actors! Also this isn’t meant to make much sense, I just sat down today and chose violence, and by violence I meant a “short” humor fic based on the idea of the old actors seeing their villain alter-egos on the news. Serisouly how did this turn into writing almost 5k words in one day...

---

Dan Rattus-Sphynx was having a bad day, but not a terrible one. He was stuck in traffic on his way home after a long day at work, thinking on the cold tv-dinner he'd be indulging in while wondering what was causing the hold up -- unfortunately, if he'd been listening to the news on the radio, he would've been tipped off to the one fact that was about to turn his bad day into a terrible one: the old cast of Darkwing Duck was to be brought in for questioning. After Jim Starling's little explosive breakdown, when mirror-perfect images of the old actors started looting and terrorizing the city, the mayor wanted to take no chances.

And maybe then he wouldn't have laughed and asked the cops if they were a fan of his work as Megavolt -- he was pretty sure now, sitting in his cell, that they took that the wrong way.

He was the first to be apprehended.

Next came Michael Peckbell, once known as the actor behind Quackerjack, who was embarrassingly enough, arrested in a clown costume. Dan genuinely tried to hide his snickering as the old clown jingled miserably into the cell, done arguing for his innocence. It is only after he threw a dirty look at Dan that he recognized who he was sharing a cell with, and his annoyance turned to recognition and then confusion, head tilting to the side and making his hat jingle.

"Wait, why are you here?"

"Same reason you are, I guess… There's a warrant for our arrest because some lookalikes decided to rob banks while cosplaying as our old Darkwing Duck roles."

"No, seriously, Dan, why are we here? I was at a brat's blasted birthday party when these BRUTES went and tackled me!" Hands on his hips, Michael didn't look particularly amused as he tapped his foot, and Dan tried his best not to get short with the ex-actor turned party clown.

"Hey, I am serious! It's all they're showing on the news, I got taken while driving home! Wait, shh, do you hear that--" "Oh no, you're not shutting me up--" "I'm serious serious Mike, listen!"

Holding the duck's beak shut, which earned him another dirty look, Dan shuffled them closer to the holding bars so that they could listen to the news from the dingy little tv at the start of the holding cells corridor. Seriously, couldn't they turn the volume up a little? Luckily, as if hearing his silent wish, they do turn the sound up.

"... we interrupt this segment to bring an update on the current string of robberies and break-ins that have been plaguing St. Canard to inform that massive plant growths are starting to block off city exits, we strongly recommend that you resist fleeing the city and instead head home where it is safest -- ah, I am now getting reports of streets being flooded! Again, stay indoors and do not head out until further instructions! Your city's law enforcement is currently working with Darkwing Duck to apprehend the criminals behind this!"

"Oh quack, actual super villains, we're doomed!" A wailing voice can be heard from the front of the police station, paired with a stern: "GET IT TOGETHER, they have Darkwing Duck on the case!" The commotion paired well with the confused and genuinely taken aback look Dan and Mike shared.

"Drkwng dck?!" Mike tries to get through his beak, then realizing Dan was still holding it shut and slapping the hand away. Probably for the best right there, as that exclamation would've been much louder otherwise. "Has the world gone cuckoo? He's fiction! We're fiction! Well, not us, we're not fiction, but the characters we played! They can't be serious, this why we're here? Hah! Give me a break!" The party clown jumps on the cell bars, shaking the door and making a ruckus, refusing to believe a single thing he's heard: "Ha! Ha! Ha! Very funny, now let us out!" Each 'laugh' is punctuated by a vigorous shake and increased irritation, visibly huffing from anger from his beak… and absolutely not helping their case. One policeman dared peek over their way, and he squealed!

(Jeez, what is it with clowns and short tempters?)

"Would you cut that out? You look deranged! Is this what you do at birthday parties?" With a sharp tug at the back of the collar, Dan manages to pry his ex-co-star from the bars, who seemingly immediately deflates and jingles to one of the benches, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his cheeks in his hands, absolutely pouting. "I'm not any happier about this than you are, you know! But it makes sense! Almost! It explains why we couldn't get any work done at the office today, our system kept going down like someone was messing with it!" That earns him a scoff from his current cell companion, and Dan can't help but throw a look in the clown's direction. "What?"

"You, work in an office?" The question can come across as derogative, but there's genuine curiosity there. "I thought you were big into the acting thing, had your big break and everything as a villain or something." A pause. "Well, bigger villain than before."

There Dan pauses, brings up an index finger as if he's going to make a point, then just sighs and practically collapses into a slouch. It has been a while since the last Darkwing Duck meet-up, huh? No wonder Mike was so out of the loop.

"Yes, well, I gave it up. Want to hear a secret?" An earnest jingly nod is his reply. "I was asked to return for the Darkwing Duck remake… reboot… whatever movie they were making, but I just said no. I feel like I got typecast into the 'weasely evil rat' archetype, you know? After a while, I just started to wonder if people were laughing with me or at me. At least you made it work out somehow."

"That's exactly my deal! People kept making me into the laughing stock so I figured I might as well be an actual clown and beat them to the punch. The brats are annoying, but it beats the circus I was at before the show. Keeps me from getting rusty, even if I'm just going through a checklist of party-tricks at this point." From his pout, Mike perks up, banging his fist on the bench to his side before standing up again, seemingly bracing himself for -- ah, he twirls into a handstand, and Dan claps in genuine amazement.

"Wow, you still got it!"

"Eh, it's nothing. Unlike you guys, I had to work with Jim directly, by his rules. No doubles allowed, or I was a puffy-tailed coward. Quackerjack had no real special effects, remember? Just toys and acrobatics to use against Darkwing Duck." He could do it, but admittedly his endurance wasn't what it used to be. Still, to be a bit of a show-off, Mike stays like that for another minute before twirling right side up, trying to shake off the dizziness that came up with it -- only to stumble and be steadied by Dan when the lights in the entire station flicker and a distant rumble shakes the entire street, and suddenly they remember their current predicament. Yeap. Whatever was going on was very real. 

"Hey, cut that out!" Someone calls from the front of the police station, and Dan tries his best not to sound absolutely peeved off when he answers back. "It's not me, you bumbling meatheads!" He genuinely tried.

The silence after that is frustrating and uncomfortable. Meeting up was nice and all, but no one was talking to them, they didn't know if their friends and family were safe, and apparently, the city really was being overtaken by super-powered criminals based on characters they played in a kid's tv-show. So Dan sat on the bench, momentarily stunned by that fact even though he was the one trying to convince Mike it made sense, all the while the clown decided to tire himself out further by continuously jumping up to try and look out the tiny cell window they had.

"Would you STOP your jingling about!?"

The only answer Dan got was a raspberry blown in his direction. Real mature.

---

Tino had made his mind up the moment he caught sight of himself on live tv robbing a bank: he was turning himself in. For one thing, it would immediately prove his innocence because he couldn't be robbing banks if he was in captivity, and then he'd hopefully be safe from these super-powered evildoers! Alright, so, well, his initial plan was to flee the city, but then his green lookalike decided to go and BLOCK every exit to St. Canard just as he was trying to drive away. It was almost impressive, really, to see what a bigger budget could have gotten them back in the good old days, but it was mostly terrifying that the guy behind these massive green growths was out there. W-w-what if these copycats had some sort of personal vendetta against the originals?! He wasn't sure why they would, but he wasn't taking any chances! He was driving to the nearest police station and that was it!

Only one road is cut off, the other is flooding towards him and it takes all his composure to slam on the reverse and scream at the same time, and instead, Tino decides to just head for the high ground at a park and go from there. Tino might have been speeding for the first time in his life just then, but he figured that it was fair -- and hey, maybe a cop would come and arrest him! No such luck, however.

The mallard duck looked positively green in the face ( no pun intended ) as he thought over his options, though it felt more like he was frozen in shock, just sitting there with his hands on the wheel and looking straight ahead. Was that… the ground shaking? If he looked at his bobblehead of Bushroot (which he'd be tossing out after this endeavor, thank you very much), he could take note of how it kept shaking as if with the steps of a giant duck --

The passenger door to his car opens, a figure jumps inside and Tino screams like a banshee and just tosses his wallet and car keys at them, fruitlessly trying to open the door and escape after he reactively locked them with the press of a button.

"TAKE IT, I DON'T NEED IT, I'M A POOR COLLEGE PROFESSOR SPARE ME --"

"JUST CALM DOWN, I DON'T WANT YOUR DANG -- wait Real? Tino Real?! It's me! Jack Pumi! Old co-star?!" And as if a switch had been flipped inside Tino's head, first his voice gives out and then his beak shuts, and his feathers unruffle themselves. Yes, he knew a Jack Pumi, that's right.

"Oh, sorry friend! You really shouldn't sneak up on a duck-like that, I feel like I almost laid my heart there!" Tino practically melts into his seat as his stress is wrung out of him at the sight of a familiar face during these scary times. "What brings you to… my car?" Hey, why did Jack get into his car?

"Ah, don't sweat it old chum! We're all a little jumpy nowadays, criminals on the run and all that." The Bushroot bobblehead is starting to shake with considerable vigor, but this is missed by the two as Jack pats Tino on the shoulder. "As for why I'm here --" A look in the rearview mirror, the surprisingly unmistakable sound of a car being stepped on not too far behind them by a giant clown robot. "DRIVE!"

You didn't have to ask Tino twice, even if they both fumbled with the keys back and forth before finally taking off as a massive foot concaved the ground where they just were, but it was best if they focused on that later. Right now, they were flooring it to… somewhere.

"Just like the good old days, don't you think? So, what's the plan, captain?" As Jack tried to hold on through Tino's panicked driving, he felt he might as well make some small talk -- not to mention that he talks when he's nervous.

"In the good old days, we were the bad guys squashing innocent civilians, and I have to say, it isn't much fun when you're on the other side of it! And p-plan, well, I don't know, drive until it leaves us alone? Until the deranged clown gets bored?"

"If I recall, boring that quacking menace is the last thing you want to do…"

"Well, what do you suggest?! Ohnononoit'sgettingcloser!" And the laughing is getting considerably irksome, if not straight up giving the both of them goose-skin.

"Where were you going before I showed up, why were you just sitting there at the park?"

"I was thinking of driving to a police station and hiding there, but the streets got flooded so I drove to higher ground and then… I froze in the existential terror of considering that a super-powered copycat of myself was wreaking havoc."

"First: beats driving in circles trying to lose this clown, second: boy I feel ya, but now's maybe not the time to focus on that pal-io! How's about you really step on the gas and see if we can't throw it off? There, right there! Turn!"

A paired screaming match occurs when Jack just grabs the wheel and sends them on a sudden turn right, Tino struggling to regain control of the car before laughing hysterically with nervous energy as Quackerjack's mech kept going straight… before turning to look at them again. They screamed again and floored the gas as far down as this crusty old car could go.

Meanwhile, Quackerjack just let out a singular 'huh' at the realization that there was a car under him the whole time… before devolving into a manic fit of giggles at the realization of the terror he caused to the two little bugs hidden under his massive robot's beak. Oh, he loves being a bad guy. Endless fun!

---

"I'm TELLING you, that's a giant Quackerjack robot! Look! Look!"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I can't jump that high?!"

---

The rest of the drive was… surprisingly peaceful. Sure, there were random root systems on the road that pretty much served as speedbumps every so often, but outside of that there was no sign of any evildoers, only the ominous red glow in the sky coming from some skyscraper or other, neither Tino or Jack cared much for the fancy science labs uptown… but that probably explains the commotion going on! The bet was on if it was science or magic behind this mess, and Tino was feeling pretty sure about his bet on magic.

Alright, so maybe peaceful wasn't the word, more like… eerie. But it beat constant panic 100%, so Tino wasn't complaining! About that, at least. He was most certainly complaining about his current treatment at the police station -- they wouldn't arrest him! Which wasn't a complaint he thought he could make.

"We're not looking for fanboys, we're looking for the actual actors to turn themselves in!"

"F-fanboys!? Why I oughta -- do you expect me to grow a plant on top of my head? I'm Tino Real, I played Bushroot, this is Jack Pumi, he played the Liquidator. What's next, you expect him to turn into liquid?"

Perhaps a bad choice of words, as that's exactly the footage that was shown through live news on the tv right then and there, Bushroot and the Liquidator teaming up and just wiping the floor with what appeared to be… Gizmoduck. Huh. Oh well.

"Honestly, yes. We already caught the other two, and they're not causing any problems anymore."

"Wait, other two? Do you mean Dan and Mike?" Jack interrupts, only to be interrupted himself by the officer that had just been speaking. "Quackerjack and Megavolt," the officer corrects.

Tino can't resist facepalming.

"You can see Quackerjack in the distance from here…" It was true, it looked like he was headed for the building emitting that ominous glow, for whatever reason, but there's no missing that giant clown robot-toy thing. That murmured exasperation does give the officer pause, and he holds up an index finger telling them to wait where they are… which they do, with a tap of a foot and impatient crossed arms, as he walks around his desk, doggy tail impatiently swooshing behind him… before quickly tucking between his legs as he hurried back inside, seconds before the lights inside the station all shut down, emergency generators kicking in seconds after.

"Quackerjack, Megavolt, accounted for. You were right." Snout pale, the dog looked like he was sweating underneath his coat of fur, licking his lips in nervousness. So maybe they shouldn't have been quite as ruff when apprehending the first two… Oh well. "I don't care anymore, you can share a cell with the other washed-up acts." The green duck said something about it being safer in than out, and well, the police dog couldn't exactly argue against it. Besides, the mayor said to apprehend them, right? Hopefully, no word about them trying to turn these two away would surface…

---

"Dan, Mike, buddies, remember me?!"

That got the two sitting in the cell snap their heads up so fast, one could almost hear a whip crack, and Mike punches Dan in the shoulder, a large grin on his face. "See, what did I tell ya, they got caught too, which means they know we're innocent, so they have to let us out. That, and you owe me 20."

"Funny joke, clown, they're joining you, not the other way around."

One click, two click, and Toni and Jack join the other two actors inside the cell, and Toni nearly kisses the floor he's so glad to be inside and safe. Well, safe-ish.

"Haha, don't mind him, we just had a rough trip on the way over, traffic was absolutely killer!" No, Jack couldn't help it, he had to make that joke. "We would've gotten here sooner, but we spent like ten minutes driving away from a killer giant robot that looked like… what's with the clown costume?" It wasn't Quackerjack-y, but that was definitely a clown outfit.

"Oh, was that your car?! Ahahaha -- sorry, sorry, but that's all I could see from that window -- he almost crushed you two a good five times! And I'm a clown. End of story." The tone of voice certainly said so, but then it quickly turned to confusion. "Wait, what do you mean 'gotten here sooner'? You want to be in jail?"

"Well, we, we, we were going to turn ourselves in! And we did! It's safer to be in here than out there, you know! You watched us almost get crushed!"

Mike looks like he's about to say something, and then he realizes Toni definitely had a good point there, so he settles on shrugging his shoulders, looking at Dan and hoping he'd have any sort of opinion on this other than just 'meh'.

"So…" Dan starts, feeling particularly coerced by Mike's incessant staring, but not having anything interesting to talk about.

"So…" Jack copies as he looks around their holding cell before slapping his hands together. "We're staying in here until this all blows over, as I'm pretty sure they know we're not the ones causing the big old ruckus. Kind of slaps me with a terrible sense of deja-vu, to be quite honest. The Fearsome Four, back together!"

That does bring up some amused mumbling from the group, even if the mere mention of the show had since gotten stale thanks to Jim Starling's obsession with it, mentioning it wherever he went.

"The only thing that's missing is Dorkwing Duck, huh?" Mike adds, snickering to himself, before pausing with a pensive look on his beak, and Toni can't help but regret what he's about to ask:

"What's on your mind, Michael?"

"Just thinking, really, but… What if this is Jim's doing? You all heard how he went crazy about the movie, right? Single handedly got it canceled, got into a fight with the new guy playing Darkwing Duck. What if this is him trying to reboot it on his own now?" Ignoring the fact that it sounded like a conspiracy theory, it almost made sense. He hasn't been seen since, so what if he was planning his comeback all this time?

The four occupants of the cell look at each other, and then break down laughing.

"As if! That thick headed, self-centered dimwit couldn't plan something this far ahead!"

"Where would he find these super-powered copycats, anyway?!"

"You'd think he'd come for the source material, if it came to that!"

"Ahaha, I know, right!?"

And just like that, the ice was broken, and the four of them made themselves as comfortable as they could in their current situation, deciding to look at it as a surprise reunion. Funny how most of their problems with the old show stemmed from Jim…

---

A large explosion echoes through St. Canard, and Mike wastes no time in trying to peek out the tiny cell window while a commotion began at the front of the police station. The ominous red glow faded from the sky, the plants withered, lights flickered back on through the city, and floods ran down drain pipes.

Whatever it was, it was done. Hopefully.

---

The next morning wasn't exactly glamorous. They were served their breakfast slop and told to wait until they fixed the bureaucracy involved in this mess, because apparently there was no paperwork for "interdimensional villains from an old live-action hero show", and there was no real proof they weren't connected somehow.

"Outside of the fact that we spent all night in here?! Let! Us! Out!"

"Seriously, what is it with clowns and short tempters…" Dan mutters, but all that Toni and Jack offer him is a vague shrug. Mike was just like that, why else would they pick him to play Quackerjack?

"Experts agree, stressing yourself out won't get you anywhere, friend!" Jack starts, even if he's not exactly sure who the experts would be in this case. It does make the duck stop trying to strangle or otherwise pry the cell bars appart with sheer physical strength -- that, or someone was finally coming to see them. Turns out it was the later, but Jack would like to believe he helped anyway!

No words of acknowledgement, just the same cop that greeted Toni and Jack yesterday, but now, instead of a scared look on his face, he looked positively starstruck. Which would be nice, if he hadn't made it clear that he didn't care about their acting careers, so what gives? The four of them look at each other, and after a vague shrug from Dan, they file out of the holding cells and make their way out. Or plan to, at least, until Mike comes to a full stop and forces everyone behind him to stumble over each other.

"Hey, what gives --!"

"JIM!? I WAS KIDDING WHEN I SAID THOSE THINGS YESTERDAY, I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS ACTUALLY YOU BEHIND THIS --"

The clown-attired duck rattles off, and that startles both the party behind him and the supposed Jim, who jumps a whole foot into the air and stretches his hands in front of him, trying to calm the shocked duck down.

"N-no, no, you got it all wrong, I'm Darkwing Duck! The one and only! Technically based on the remake but we don't talk about it! AlsoI'mabigfanandIwaswonderingifyouwouldn'tmindsigningthisposter--"

The first part wouldn't be unbelievable if it had been Jim, but the mention of a remake knocked it down a peg, and then saying he's a fan and asking for an autograph, even if said all in one breath, definitely meant it wasn't Jim. The (once) Fearsome Four let out a shared sigh that they didn't know they were holding as they surrounded this… cosplayer, for lack of a better term.

"Could've fooled me, you're his splitting image, I tell you what… Well, no, you're smooth. He was more…" Mike takes a second to mess up his face feathers, making it look like he'd been sleeping face down for a month. "Gruff, yeah? You look like a baby in comparison."

"Hey! I'll have you know I saved this city from complete annihilation!"

"What was that about a poster, kiddo?" Jack interjects, leaning over Mike's shoulder. "I guess it's the least we can do for saving our city, and in turn us. Not going to lie, it's been a while since I've signed a poster, ever since I started selling --"

"Tupperware?! I have your entire collection, you weren't lying when you said those things could last!"

Jack had to stop and blink for a second, even if his brain automatically had him fetch a pen from an inner pocket. The guy was a "hero", yet here he was fanboying over a tupperware salesman. "Haha, well, I don't like having my face attached to cheap products, what can I say. So, who do we make it out to be?"

"Uh… Darkwing… Duck?"

"Creative," Dan adds with a snicker, but takes the pen from Jack anyway to sign the poster.

"Short notice, what can I say, I came as soon as I heard that they had you guys locked up in here, after making sure the interdimensional evil-doers were in their respective places of course!" The masked duck before them poses in what they guess he thinks is a heroic pose, and out of politeness they don't mention that it makes him look like an absolute tool.

"So those… look-alikes, they're gone? Oh, I never realized quite how frightening our characters were at the time, it was just a silly children's cartoon…" Genuinely, all that Toni wanted now was to crawl home and pass out for a week straight, even if he might miss a weeks worth of work. He felt like it was only fair!

"Darkwing Duck guarantee! I would tell more in hopes of assuring you, but it's all classified, I'm sure you can understand. Just know that there's a real hero watching St. Canard now! Petty thug or super-villain, I'm your guy!"

The poster goes from hand to hand, and they all sign it before giving it back, and the excitement the masked duck shows for it is a little nice, as Jack had mentioned previously. Usually Jim hogged all the attention at fan meetings, whether the fan wanted it or not.

"Oh Launch… I mean, LP is going to eat his scarf when he sees this! You guys have just made a hero's day! Say, would it be too much if I asked for a h--"

"Yeah, no, too much." Dan deadpanned, and everyone agreed wholeheartedly, instead offering a handshake instead, which is gladly taken.

"So, what are your plans now? I could give one of you a ride!" Wringing his hat between his hands, this Darkwing Duck wannabe looked like he wanted to tag along with them, as if he expected them to act like they did on the show, and an awkward look was shared between the four of them. How to gently let this guy down… Seriously, they didn't need a vigilante deciding reality equals fiction -- IGNORING THE EVENTS OF LAST NIGHT.

"Thanks but no thanks, my plan is to go home, pass out, and forget this ever happened." Answer, you just don't, it's a grown man for quack's sake. Mike drops the cape corner he was inspecting and waltzes out the door, his hat jingling behind him.

It didn't take much for everyone else to follow after.

"Pretty much." "Ditto." "I'm still not certain it wasn't an overly elaborate dream."

Not taking a hint, Darkwing Duck follows after them, waving as they all squeeze into Toni's little car. "Good thinking, guys! Just remember, if there's trouble --"

"You call DW!" Alright, he could have that one freebie on the house, Jack decided, even if everyone else in the car stink eyed him for indulging the masked weirdo. "What, it is a catchy tune!"

The car wasn't the only thing grumbling as it drove off.

[twh-news]

[Spoilers ahead, whole article below cut]

One of the many delights of the God of Mischief having his own standalone series is that we not only get to admire Tom Hiddleston’s acting chops, but also get to see him dance gleefully and maniacally right before the entire ancient city of Pompeii is washed away by lava. In Episode 1 of Disney Plus and Marvel Studios’ “Loki,” viewers got to familiarize themselves with The Time Variance Authority (TVA) and its futuristic office hub, and see this new Marvel Cinematic Universe territory through Loki’s eyes.

During Episode 2, much of that worldbuilding was put on hold for tense time travel adventures while wielding Loki’s “Mindhunter” abilities to catch a more evil version of himself. The episode also focused on the blossoming bromance between Mobius M. Mobius (Owen Wilson) and the trickster the agent is sure he can sort-of reform. It dove deep into Nexus Events (emphasizing the importance of knowing these terms as Marvel fans, given that the concept is referenced both in “Loki” and in “WandaVision”) and showed off more of what the TVA actually does to protect the Sacred Timeline from “chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.” Additionally, why Mobius loves jet skis so much was revealed (a wholesome moment).

There was a lot learned in this episode, but so many more questions “branched” out of Episode 2. Here are the biggest ones:

How did the TVA agents not figure out Loki’s “apocalypse time branch” theory beforehand?

I’m calling Marvel’s own bluff: The TVA agents absolutely did know about Loki’s loophole since they know everything and anything about the Sacred Timeline and its deviations. Thus, they should also have had at least an inkling of what trouble they could (potentially) get away with without screwing up the order of things — like taunting villagers mere seconds before the tragic volcanic obliteration of Pompeii.

Loki explained this “new theory” in the second episode as: “So, let’s just say your salad is Asgard. … I could go down to Asgard before Ragnarok causes its complete destruction, and I could do anything I wanted. I could, let’s say, push the Hulk off the Rainbow Bridge. There he goes! And I could also set fire to the palace. I can do whatever I want to do, and it would never matter. It wouldn’t go against the dictates of the timeline. … It could be any apocalypse. It could be a tidal wave, it could be a meteor, or it could be a volcano or a supernova. If everything and everyone around you is destined for imminent destruction than nothing that I say or do will matter because the timeline is not going to branch because it gets destroyed.”

How Mobius and co. didn’t catch onto this beats me. Are they so obsessed with being bureaucratic do-gooders that they’ve created their own blind spots? It may be why Loki is so valuable in spite of the risks he poses to the TVA — he’s able to figure out that The Variant is hiding in apocalypses, carrying out malice undetected.

What is the significance of Roxxcart?

It appears extremely likely that the creepy, flickery-lit supermarket wherein Loki got in a — to put it bluntly — dick-measuring contest with Loki 2.0 and the visages of possessed victims, is owned by Roxxon Energy Corporation. (Get it? Roxxcart, Roxxon.) The massive fictional gas conglomerate has regularly made appearances, by name or in-scene, both in Marvel Comics and in Marvel series and films, including ABC’s “Agent Carter” and “Agents of SHIELD,” the “Iron Man” trilogy, Freeform’s “Cloak & Dagger,” Netflix’s “Daredevil” and Hulu’s “The Runaways.” Every time the petroleum industrial giant has made its way, on-screen or on-page, Roxxon has consistently been nefarious and at odds with superheroes. If The Variant is giving away candy (Kablooie chewing gum) during nexus events that are sold at Roxxcart between 2047 and 2051, then the incorporation of Roxxon’s evil ties was a conscientious one — and one that should have some greater significance in the series.

“It’s real”— what’s real?!

While Loki was sizing up his time-traveling, shape-shifting opponent somewhere between the pet supplies aisle and hurricane-discounted azaleas, TVA agent Hunter C-20 (Sasha Lane), was found by Mobius and co. She didn’t seem to be injured physically, but mentally, she was shaken up, constantly repeating, “It’s real, it’s real” while rocking back and forth. What caused this agent to spiral? And is the “it” she was referring to a person, a place or a thing? Episode 2 didn’t provide us with much clarity, but there may be more ominous forces afoot than “The Variant.”

Why is Lady Loki hellbent on destroying the Sacred Timeline?

“Loki, I am your… lady?” In a juicy reveal that echoed Darth Vader’s reveal in “Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back,” The Variant’s shroud was removed and we got our first glimpse at Lady Loki (Sophia Di Martino), the Mistress of Mischief with golden horns and all. What’s her beef with the Time-Keepers or the TVA? Other than the fact that she’s on the run from the omnipotent organization, L.L.’s motives have yet to be unveiled. She wordlessly hopped through a time portal with Loki following before the nitty-gritty of her tricky time-manipulating scheme could be revealed. What we do know is that, in the comics, Lady Loki is just the female version of Loki (and she’s also canonically gender fluid and pansexual). During her appearance in Marvel’s “Dark Reign” comics from 2008 to 2009, L.L. is in cahoots with the villainous likes of Norman Osborn (aka The Green Goblin), Emma Frost, Namor and Doctor Doom. Holding out hope that any of these high-profile baddies will make their way onto “Loki” might be futile, but Lady Loki’s official introduction into the televised Marvelverse may carve a path for “X-Men” and “Fantastic Four” characters to pop up in the future.

Did Loki really betray Mobius to go off and commit time shenanigans with Lady Loki, or is this all a ruse? What is his game plan?

*Extreme Owen Wilson voice* Wooow, what a cliffhanger! After trying to bond with Mobius throughout most of the episode, Loki pulled a Loki and trailed off with his new friend/foe, effectively betraying Mobius and the rest of the TVA agents that put their faith in him. But then again, what were they expecting with the Prince of Lies? It appeared that (at least for now) there was a rift in that budding partnership. It should be noted, however, that Loki dropped a massive hint toward the beginning of the episode that there’s way more than meets the eye — he’s been “10 steps ahead” of the TVA, and he’s been playing a game of his own, all along.

Crossing our fingers that it ends up with Loki riding off into the sunset with Mobius on a jet ski.

[akampana]

I don't know how much of a ship it could be, but... What about Ruler Artoria or Lancer Alter Artoria with Gil? I know you said that regular Gil would probably dislike Saber Alter because she lost everything that made her unique in his eyes, but i wonder now how would both him and CasGil react to these drastically different versions of her.

Hello, Anon! Thank you for the ask. I spent a lot of time on this one, sorry for the wait!

Right, I’m going to preface this by saying FGO is a recent thing for me and I’m F2P, so I don’t actually even have Cas Gil or any other Arturia save for the OG. But as I love any version of these two way too much, I’ve obsessively gleaned whatever extra info I can from wherever I can with as much fervor as I apply to praying to the gacha, so I hope I can still provide some insight or at least give you a good read. :)

I’m gonna answer this in a slightly different format since we’re talking about opinions here. Lot’s of HCs included, since I wanted to illustrate better how their specific dynamics would go. See below:

Ruler Arturia x Gil : AN EXPENSIVE GOLDEN RIVALRY

Ruler Arturia is a casino owner and specifically a cards dealer. We also know thanks to Artoria’s material that despite not being the luckiest person alive, she has a talent for gambling. 

Regardless of the bet, the casino is usually at an advantage to win, which is what makes each game a gamble. And with our talented bunny dealer handling the cards, you can bet haha  the casino would earn a hell of a bunch. 

Enter Gilgamesh, with a ridiculously high rank of luck and LITERALLY ALL THE MONEY IN THE UNIVERSE 

Now this puts them both in a unique position because:

Arturia as a casino owner would want to glean everything she can out of that treasury

Gilgamesh is nigh impossible to trounce

What does that make for? The highest stakes round of blackjack that the world has ever seen. 

Funny thing is, Gil probably isn’t even playing to win. He’s so rich that any loss is immaterial. 

If anything, he’s staying for the challenge, and of course, the entertaining dealer.

Ruler Arturia is formatted after Lartoria’s attitude, though, so rather than sparks flying across the table, their battles would be quiet and consist of a lot of poker faces and piercing eyes. 

As Gilgamesh is technically a guest, it is not out of the question for them to share a few cocktails. 

He likes the bunny suit. He just doesn’t say so. 

Eventually, it comes to the point where he bets an irrefusable amount in exchange for a night with her. And boom, she loses, and gets treated to dinner. All in all, not such a loss. Especially since she finds that the amount he’d bet last night makes it into an expensive briefcase left in front of her casino the next morning. 

Ruler Arturia x CasGil

CasGil, I think would have the same interest, but rather than the kind of competitive rivalry Archer Gil brings to the table, he gets Ruler’s attention a different way:

He doesn’t lose. He just doesn’t.

Caster doesn’t even raise the stakes, nor does he bet such thriftless amounts like Archer Gil does, he just wins and wins and wins over a course of a few days, and Ruler eventually has to investigate why one of her tables consistently loses more than it gains

Lo and behold: it’s the King of Heroes, nonchalantly sipping on a cocktail waiting for her to arrive. 

Arturia offers to play against him, and they calmly proceed for enough rounds until he finally loses for the first time. 

Except when she checks his hand, she discovers he could have won again. 

Still possessing a knight’s honor, she tries to refund him, but he won’t take the money. He’d only take a date. 

The next day, they’re sharing her parasol, strolling on the beach with drinks in hand. She swears she’ll beat him for real next time. 

Oooh how I love older more mature Gilart. HNNNNNNNNGGG

Lancer Alter x Gilgamesh in General

There’s a lot of complexity when it comes to “Alter” Servants which I am still trying to grasp because not every Alter-ation is the same as I’m sure you know. 

Lancer Alter isn’t even Evil like Saber Alter is, she’s just more of a realist and in the eyes of her people, more of a tyrant. In fact, I think she’s closer to the essence of what a Lancer Arturia would be, and maybe she would have been the Lartoria we got had the Lion King not been conceptualized yet. But like other non-lancer Arturias she shoulders the same burden of a king. 

It’s on this basis that I say that Archer Gil also might not be attracted to Lancer Alter initially, because part of what he likes about Artoria is her idealism. He finds her idealism foolish sure, because he wouldn’t rule that way, but that’s also what fascinates him. 

Caster Gil, I believe, would have the better chance, because he’s already lived through and moved past the period in his life where he was a ruthless, feared tyrant, and he can therefore understand Lancer Alter’s mentality more than Archer Gil ever could. 

But whether or not Casgil and Lancer Alter Arturia ever end up together, entirely depends on CasGil’s interest, because he’ll be facing someone who is rather like his younger self. But a little more self-deprecating. Better feed her some junk food.

Thank you for the ask! It makes me happy to have stuff in my inbox. Hope I provided a good read for you at least. :) 

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reacts: Masters of the Universe: Revelation episode 5

Spoilers below

TL:DR I was not crazy about it and if you did enjoy episode 5 and like the series. I recommend skipping this reaction/review

-So they host a little funeral for Orko. Yep, gotta milk all you can out of the character ya set up to die since his introduction. Well they gave Orko more respect than He-man. Good on Adam for being a decent human being. (I will stop being cynical about this)

-Well Preternia is cool.

-Moss man is the forest.

-Adam had the sword and he is like

-"Welp you are all stuck in heaven now."

-Andra is adorable. (Also side note. I havent really seen Andra and Teela be couple like since episode 2. Like where is the couple stuff? Evil-lyn and Teela have had more dialouge together?)

-Adam and Teela being awkward which understandable.

-And Teela is still salty. At least its fleshed out a bit more. But you would think she would be OVER this by now.

-King of Grayskull? Oh this will be cool.

-Hoverboards in Heaven!

-The tower looks cool.

-Hero is his name?

-Hero is shook by the split the sword.

-Andra making a forge.

-They competitive friends in the hunt!

-Well this is somewhat cute.

-OH S***! KING GRAYSKULL LOOKS EPIC! HE RIDES A TRICERATOPS!

-Adam chose that form? Like he could have taken his He-man form? But chose that one? Okay I am genuinely curious.

-King was the first Castle Grayskull champion. Wow okay. And the guy is now talking smack about the castle.

-I like feral sorcerer lady.

-So they made a heaven forge.

-the last bit of magic!

-Roboto is like "Yea I am not sure at all but I am gonna try." He is going to die too.

-So Teela and Adam moment.

-Adam has a point. He was dead. Not like he was like "Lol i am gonna die and make you feel bad" He was saving the Universe!

-Adam is totally gonna go back because he has unfinished business.

-Adam might not get back to paradise if he goes back.

-Mossman is a million years old. Lol

-Roboto is doing it.

-The forge scene is epic.

-Roboto gonna die.

-He did it though... and it blew up in his face.

-The sword is forged tho.

-But now Roboto is dead. And he made a roboto is afraid to die.

-Wow that is f***Ed up.

-Rip Roboto

-Adam wants to go back. Okay so now we will have Adam/He-man be a more prominent part of the show now. It took some time, but hey at least he is back now.

-Adam he is owning it up to it.

-Adam be a real one.

-What the s*** he almost died right after getting back. Okay so is that the fake out.

-And tech cultists.

-Welp Man-at-arms is here to defend. LOL

-Adam reveals he is back.

-Cringer missed him. (This was cute)

-So now they back to where he died. He about to do what they need to do.

-He be calling back the magic. Now it starting to feel like He-man again

-Sorceress is BACK BABY!

-And Grayskull looks good again.

-And... Adam got F***ING STABBED. Did, did they REALLY JUST KILL HIM TWICE?! I had this feeling like they were saying "You cant come back if you die again" But I thought no There is no way they would be stupid enough to kill him TWICE.

-So Skeletor survived by putting his essence into the staff Evil-lyn had and if she had left it all of this could have been avoided

-Evil lyn is back to being bad. Because Skeletor just came back. So much for all that development Lyn.

-Skeletor just called on the power of GREYSKULL. So can anyone do that?! Does this mean Skeletor can go to Preternia?

-Skeletor's form is... well it is something. I mean its cool. But... I dont really feel like its earned. Like I wish we had some foreshadowing or something. Like he is just like "BTW I was here the whole time just in case." Now if Adam was like pushed aside or like knocked back and Skelator took it so he could show off, that would be more He-Man like. Cause then you get the moral on WHY Adam chose this form in Preternia.

-Also Skeletor getting the power sword SHOULD be a much bigger and much more earned moment. This scene should have been like the penultimate episode before the final battle. Also him Stabbing He-man/Adam would have had way more impact if this was the first time they pulled this.

-But in all seriousness. Did they REALLY JUST KILL ADAM AGAIN!?

-They took all of that development and just... KILLED HIM AGAIN.

-Side note: if ANYONE could use the power, Why not just have he-man pass the torch to Andra or Teela. Because now Adam cant even chill in heaven. He is just a dying little flea who basically got set up to DIE AGAIN. Like the writers clearly do not like Adam.

-How am I suppose to be excited? Lol Skelator is back sure but he just killed He-man. Are they gonna do a fake out death? Have him Die but then get revived by the sorceress? Regardless its in bad fucking taste.

____________________________________________________________

2.5/10

Look, Skeletor's comeback was cool and all (He and the designs of King Greyskull are the reasons this isnt a 1 out of 10). But WOW they really did Adam dirty. I was expecting He-man in a show that is named after half his old show. Even the earlier trailers showed a bunch of him... but he only shows up in flashbacks after episode 1.

If Adam doesnt die, he will likely get heal in the nick of time and and die again later anyway. Considering how predictable the show is I can already predict that they will beat skeletor. Teela's Power that was hinted at in episode 4 will make her the new Sorceress and Andra will be revealed to be a descendant of King Greyskull thus making her the TRUE heir to Castle Greyskull an have her be the new champion or reverse of that where Teela is the new champion and Andra is the sorceress. If Adam does survive he will just be Adam at the end of the series and not He-man because whatever reason about him not actually feeling like He-man was him. But my bet is that they kill him again if he isnt already dead.

Which means that He-man just becomes She-ra. But there is already a She-Ra and it actually has She-Ra in the title. And that She-Ra actually has better writing in it because it actually cares.

Because lets face it this show was not about he-man. It was about Teela.

I know its called Masters of the Universe Revelation. But they should have called it Teela: and Everyone else dies.

But I seriously have to ask. WHO IS THIS FOR?

Its not for die hard He-Man fans because it kills off or changes all the characters they know.

It isnt for new fans because most of them would have no idea who any of these characters are. The show expects you to know them already.

It isnt for Feminists. Teela's characterization is a bad stereotype of written 'strong woman'. I made a comment that it was basically a 'Guy that tried to write a Strong woman character' but it is STUPIDLY ACCURATE at this point.

She-Ra: Princess of Power 2018 already exists and does it better.

If I had to make a bet. It feels like the writers were targeting the demographic that watched He-man and hated it, then writing a Salt fic about the characters after turning one of them into a self insert.

I hate that the writing sucks, because the animation is gorgeous, there are somethings that are really cool. In fact when they show off the ideas from the original He-Man, it looks amazing. Those flashbacks? They are the best parts of each episode.

Now I am no die hard fanboy for he-man. But I did like the 2002 show. I am actually chill with some of the changes made. Not all of them, but some. But I hate lazy and manipulative writing. Writing in a show purely for shock value.

The trailers they put out for this show were manipulative. Showing much more He-man then there was.

I wasnt expecting god tier level writing for this. This was based on a 1980's show. It didnt need amazing writing, it just needed to be good enough and show it cares about its fans. But it didnt.

Lets say we removed He-man from the equation entirely. make this its own thing. Change the names, alter a few appearances. Would that have changed my opinion.

It would make me less mad, but I would also still call it a bad show because the writing is generic at best. Its hackneyed and the characters with any appeal get killed off.

How am I supposed to be excited for this?

Do you know how angry this makes me. I WANTED to be hyped as hell for the fact that Skeletor has the power of Greyskull and is getting ready to be this super big bad for the end of the season. But I am not.

I just feel annoyed and disinterested.

Will I watch the other episodes if they get released?

I dont think I have the stomach for it. They would need to do a LOT to make me want to watch the other half.

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Alrighty, how do the Parallax enforce their vows? Like if someone breaks their vow, will a member come after them?

Oh I’m so glad you asked because this is the stuff I’ve been working on the most.

Ok so first, here are the oaths in full:

The powers of Fate are my witness in this world that I am woven. She who threads our paths, knows my truth.

I swear to search for Fate’s permission, I swear to not speak of her secrets, until she guides a question towards me. I swear that my knowledge, that is hers, will not be passed to those who she has not blessed.

I swear to speak Fate’s tongue, I swear that my words shall be an echo of her unfiltered, truthful voice. I swear to not speak silence or song for bias or benefit.

I swear to uphold Fate’s decree, I swear to respect Fate, and to not dishonor, disobey, or disrespect her will. I swear to admire her tapestry, but never to weave or trim it.

So basically the oaths give the rules that:

No going around sharing every single vision or fortune you get to everyone

No sharing the juicy info with those outside of The Parallax

No lying/sugarcoating/leaving details out/adding details to the fortunes you give

No trying to directly change the future

Now as for how the oaths are actually enforced comes down to the culture at The Parallax.

Similar to doctors taking a Hippocratic Oath, for the majority of people in The Parallax Society, it’s not that they think they’re going to get punished if they break the oaths, but it’s because breaking the oath is—in their mind—a morally bad thing that they wouldn’t WANT to do in the first place.

99% of doctors don’t actively want to murder their patients. 99% of seers in The Parallax don’t want to break their oaths because they don’t want to deal with the disaster and ruin that could cause in their lives and everyone else’s.

Take the permission oath for example, a seer who constantly tells everyone every bad thing they see in the future is just going to cause mass pain and war and paranoia across the kingdom. People live normal lives full of pain and pleasure even without knowing the future, so continuously telling people about the good and evils of the future provides the opportunity for people to take their good fortunes less seriously (because they expect it) and their bad fortunes more seriously (because they dread it). In addition, a seer who forces themselves to look into the future too often will probably drive themselves into madness.

Overall, the general culture that is taught to those part of The Parallax is that each of the oaths is a necessary rule to maintain order and harmony in the world, so it is the morally right thing to do to uphold them. Lying about the future is wrong. Telling people when they’re going to die when they would have otherwise lived a happy life without constant paranoia, is wrong. Sharing fortune telling tip with people who haven’t taken the oaths are and probably just going to selfishly abuse the power for their own benefit, not the best.

But in addition to this morally right perspective that The Parallax paints the oaths as, is this idea of Fate’s power and wrath. Fate is a entity that you cannot win against, it is impossible to win against her, even the gods cannot win.

Because of the belief in a multiverse, where everytime timeline and choice exists, The Parallax does not believe that is it possible to alter your fate, because the timeline is already laid out for you.

To dumb it down, you can say there is two timelines—one where you dye your hair blonde, and one where you dye your hair black. Both these timelines must exist because free will and choice exist. However, Fate knows that you are in the blonde dye timeline, if you looked into the future, you would see you have blonde hair. You could try to dye your hair black, but Fate must maintain the future as it is destined because the black dye timeline already exists somewhere else, and that is not YOU. So, one way or the other, by the infinite power of Fate, your hair will be dyed blonde.

The Parallax thus believes that resisting Fate’s will leads to unnecessary struggle and pain that could be avoided if you had just accepted the future as is. Rejecting the future is bad luck, simply because you will be causing ruin on the world around you, because you are wrestling a fruitless battle against something you won’t beat. Do not fight Fate, because Fate might get annoyed with you and chuck a meteor of pain at you and your whole town just to get you to stop.

This is the number one oath that when broken, will get you killed. Whether by Fate’s wrath, or The Parallax themselves. It’s not always, but it is in majority.

Now the way they usually do this is by working with the strength of the Royal Family, that’s what the Royal Seer is for. The Parallax will go up to the Royal Seer and be like, “Hey. Bobby has been rejecting the future he foresaw, so can you tell the Royal Family to deal with him before his actions get people killed?” And then the Royal Seer will be like “sure homie” and they’ll go to the Queen or King and say something like “Bobby’s actions are going to get people killed. You need to jail him forever/kill him/etc.” It depends on the situation.

Officially an oath as part of The Parallax might not always result in death, but it will, 100% of the time, result in being exiled from the society. Excommunicated, if you will.

You see, The Parallax is the only way you can get officially certified as a seer. You get a fancy little magic tattoo of The Parallax symbol, and it basically lets people know that you are the real deal, you have the fortune teller society’s seal of approval.

Not EVERY fortune teller has it, as there are basic, lower class street artists and such who just don’t have a tattoo seal of quality approval at all. But if an official Parallax member breaks an oath and gets excommunicated, their tattoo becomes blackened, letting everyone know that they did a bad thing. Hypothetically you could still personally look into the future, but it’s said that the blackened tattoo messed with how clear and competent your visions are. In addition, your days for giving fortunes to others are pretty much over, because, say you’re just a regular farmer. If the powerful Parallax people are saying that this one person messed up so bad that they now have a ruined tattoo that is mysterious and evil, chances are you’re not going to take any chances with that magic bullshit and will run in the opposite direction.

So yeah, incentives for following the oaths include being morally good, (at least in the perspective of the Parallax, whether that is universally applicable is for you to decide), not dying, and not being blacklisted and having your powers get ruined.

I mentioned that the breaking of the Oath of Fate’s Decree is the one that most often leads to death, typically by Fate’s wrath. However, the broken oath that has more recently risen deaths by the actual Parallax, has been the Oath of Fate’s Permission—specifically concerning keeping the knowledge of divination within The Parallax. Take this as you will