#i cannot adequately explain how it feels to ask a question

[icehot13]

here to report that sexism is still alive and well on the jobsite despite the groundbreaking “men/women at work” sign out front!!!!

[darkstarofchaos]

Okay. While we're talking about EarthSpark S1 problems that have been made worse by S2. Why is Megatron special?

One of the weakest parts of EarthSpark for me has always been the fact that Megatron is the only Decepticon known to have defected. Later on, Cons like Breakdown, Tarantulas, and even Starscream added some nuance by showing them willing to risk themselves for non-Decepticons, though understandably, none of them were willing to defect at that point. But even though such Cons clearly existed, none of them defected along with Megatron, or at any other point during the war.

And Megatron's own defection was just... It's painfully obvious that he was developed to be a Good Guy and didn't have a lot of thought put into what he was like as a Decepticon. By his own admission and Starscream's assessment, he was a violent leader who ruled with fear, but all it took to make him change sides was... Seeing a human care more about his side than he did? That's it? And if that is why he changed sides, he clearly took the wrong lesson away from that, because he still doesn't care about what used to be his side. Instead of trying to do better by them, he abandons them. And then all he has to do to make Optimus trust him is... Scan an Earth altmode. Really.

It all feels very weak to me, and doesn't adequately explain anything. Did Megatron make any attempt to be a kinder leader, or did he just defect immediately after seeing the Error Of His Ways? How did we get from "damn, I don't care about my guys enough" to "my whole cause is corrupt, I'mma go now"? Did he ever try to use his position as leader of the freaking Decepticons to end the war peacefully or steer them onto a better path, or did he just wash his hands of them the moment he considered himself morally superior to them? If he did try to use his influence before bailing, how did he change so much so fast that none of his officers wanted to follow him anymore? Why did he give up on his entire faction and not bring any of the more open-minded Decepticons with him?

There are so many questions that either aren't answered or only get vague suggestions of what might have happened, and the answers we do get aren't enough for me to buy Megatron's redemption. It all feels too fast and too easy, and I do not understand why he could defect from the faction he led but less committed Decepticons just didn't.

And now all of these issues are worse than ever, because all the nuance the other Decepticons had is gone. Now it's just "Y'know, Decepticons. They're evil." Apparently not all of them, because Megatron is still hanging out with the Autobots, Con insignia and all! I ask again, why is Megatron special? Why does he get to change but all the others have to be flat and evil?

The real-world answer, of course, is that he never changed. He was conceived as a good person and ally to the Autobots, and that's how he's going to stay. But you cannot have a "Cons are just evil" story while the ex-leader of the Cons is walking freely in the Autobot base. Megatron's entire character is only possible with the assumption that Decepticons are capable of changing, and trying to revert to Cons Evil makes his redemption weaker than ever. Because it's so painfully obvious that he was written to be a good person and his dark history doesn't actually matter.

[satoruxx]

unanswered.

zhongli x reader | 1.1k+ words

——»» fluff, angst, implied death, established relationship, lol i apologize in advance for this

zhongli finds it endearing how curious you are.

you’ve admitted to him many times that you found his vast knowledge to be intriguing, it being one of the reasons why you fell for him to begin with. he thinks it somewhat flattering, but more so he finds it to be quite sweet. he likes that you ask him so many questions about the things you don’t know.

“teyvat is so big,” you explain to him, leaning against his shoulder as he sips his tea with a smile. “there’s so much for me to learn.”

——»»

he’s indulgent with you, answering your questions with patience no matter how childish.

“what exactly are adepti?” you ask him one day. it’s one of the first questions you ask, when your relationship is still relatively new, and he can only chuckle as he pats the hand you have looped through his.

“curious are we?”

you giggle, tightening your grip on his bicep and pressing yourself closer to him. “humor me. i know you’re an adeptus right? but what exactly does that mean?”

he explains to the best of his ability. about how he used to be the prime adeptus before he became the archon you revered. how he was the leader of the adepti who made a contractually binding agreement with them to protect liyue and its people.

you listen with wide eyes, not interrupting the flow of his voice save for the occasional nod. he thinks it’s adorable, how much you want to learn about him. he’ll tell you anything you want to know.

——»»

you quickly learn zhongli always had an answer. there’s not a question you’ve discovered that he cannot reply to. it’s awe-inspiring how 6,000 years of ever accumulating knowledge could be encapsulated into one being. you intended to make use of this privilege you were granted. having this much knowledge at your disposal was definitely a blessing, and when you stopped to think about the reason you were given such a boon, you could not find an answer. why the archon with so many names took an interest in one small human was beyond you. so you decide to ask him.

zhongli only raises a brow, eyes like golden honey as he stares down at you. “hm, this is a new variation of questions.” he gently leans forward, holding his chopsticks to your lips. you frown, though you take the bite like it’s routine. it is, and zhongli knows this.

“hey now, mr. zhongli said that he would always answer my questions.” you pout as you stare at him, still chewing. “archons shouldn’t lie. it’s setting a bad example for your people.”

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head with a fond sigh. “alright, my love. you wish to know why i took an interest in you, correct?”

you nod eagerly, eyes shining with a familiar curiosity.

“well, i’ve met thousands of humans in my lifetime.” zhongli answers, his gaze trained on the swirling contents of his tea. “but you certainly were the most interesting.”

you deflate, crossing your arms. “what does that mean? i’m just as boring as any other human. wouldn’t one of the great heroes or someone famous be more interesting to you?” you question and zhongli laughs, eyes crinkling with amusement.

“no. because they are not you.” he answers. at the confusion in your face, he leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead.

“everything about you, from the outermost layer of your skin, to the innermost crevices of your soul, are absolutely beautiful. there are many words in the language we speak that may be adequate to describe the way i feel for you. you are bewitching, enticing, thoughtful, selfless, quite benevolent...” zhongli hums with a smile, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair away from your face. he studies the surprise in your expression and decides not to comment on the flush in your cheeks, instead continuing with a bit of mirth. “…and absolutely mundane.”

your jaw drops, reaching out to smack his shoulder lightly. he only laughs, gently taking your wrist and pressing a kiss to your palm. “but it is that same mundaneness that makes you all the more interesting to me.” he finishes.

the smile you give him after that is uncharacteristically rewarding.

——»»

“what do you think it feels like to die?” you ask zhongli one day. your voice is quiet as you stare up at the ceiling. it’s a new type of question, both deep and tragic, unlike anything you’ve ever asked before. he contemplates your question slowly, letting a rueful smile grace his face.

“i wouldn’t be able to tell you, my beloved.” he finally answers, his fingers threading through your hair delicately. your skin is warm as you trace the faint glowing on his bare arms, a reminder of the powerful element he controls. you sigh, nodding your head before a playful smile tugs at your lips.

“i’ve finally found a question mr. zhongli can’t answer.”

his good natured laugh echoes through the room as he pulls you closer to him. “indeed you have.” he says softly. he’s smiling as you drift off to sleep in his arms, but there’s an odd feeling that settles in his chest, one that seems almost bitter. he chooses not to dwell on it, instead opting to let his body rest in the safe haven of your embrace.

he’d rather not think of anything else, even though he knows that soon enough he’ll have to face this gnawing in his gut. he knows it well, because it’s written in the stars.

——»»

“what do you think it feels like to die?” you’ll ask zhongli one day. he’ll only be able to hold you close, his golden eyes attempting to memorize everything he can about you in this moment. he’ll shake his head, his once rueful smile now looking so much more weak in the face of your inquiry.

“i…wouldn’t be able to tell you, my beloved.” he’ll whisper, pressing his lips into your hair. his chest will ache with something familiar, but the intensity is new.

this time, however, you’ll attempt to answer your own question. he’ll feel your fingers squeeze his, and your voice wobble as you laugh. “i bet it doesn’t hurt.” you’ll say to him.

this will be your last question, and he’ll search for an answer for the remaining eternity he has left. he’ll search and search, determined to find out because the day you are reborn and given back to him, he’d like to answer your question, just as he always did.

zhongli has never liked leaving you unanswered after all.

[googleitlol]

As serious as Dove likes to pretend to be, I also want to show just how slightly unhinged her actions can seem to others. What she does may make sense in her mind, but sometimes all the others can do is watch as they struggle to comprehend her train of thought. She can also just be plain petty, but that's already very obvious.

Anyway, a good example of her behaviour is when the group meets Sandy!

Dove Masterlist:

Dive

“These Flowing-Sand metes, eight hundred wide; These Weak Waters, three thousand deep. A goose feather cannot stay afloat; A rush petal will sink to the bottom.”

Tripitaka reads aloud the stone slab on the shore of the river. Is this really the Flowing-Sand river? You thought it’d take you longer to get here, though not much has happened since your group’s encounter with that tiger and wind demon about a month ago. “I remember this place, from when I last travelled with my own master, Guan Yin.”

“Really?” Tripitaka turns to you. “Do you know of any way to cros–”

Just as he spoke, a figure leapt from the waters, a recognizable blur of indigo and red charging towards the group. Before you can mumble a word, you feel yourself being tugged back alongside Tripitaka. Zhu Bajie runs to meet the challenger, raising his rake high before bringing it down on the newcomer but before you can see anything else, Wukong drags you and Tripitaka away from the confrontation.

The moment he drops the two of you, you slap his hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Saving your life. Keep Master safe, we’ll be right back.” The Monkey King didn’t give you time to retort before taking his needle-sized staff and extending it in his hands.

“Wait! That demon…!” The sage is already bounding towards the fight before you can trail off. Is it so hard to just listen?! With a quick exhale, you turn to the monk instead. “Follow me.”

“…Pardon?” Tripitaka frowns, more out of confusement than anything else. “But that’s where Sun WUkong and Zhu Bajie are fighting the demon.”

“I can explain everything in a moment but for now, I just ask that you trust me.” Tripitaka could stay further back and wait as well, though there was no real danger at the riverside.

With how quickly Sun Wukong sped you away, it took a bit of time to return to the riverbank. It was just as you reached the waters that the two disciples came into view, their opponent nowhere to be found. The closer you get, the more you can hear the two as they bicker.

“If you just waited, I could have worn him down enough to deliver the final blow!” Pigsy huffs, pointing accusingly with his rake to the Monkey King.

The King rolls his eyes, his arms crossed as he argues back. “How could you have expected me to wait? It isn’t my fault he was so intimidated by me.” As you approach the two with their master, the sage quickly straightens his posture, turning before you can even announce your presence. You’ve noticed him do this quite often, him and Pigsy both. Though, the latter never reacts to your presence in the same way. Perhaps it has less to do with them being demons that can feel your power and more that you could manage to get along with one and the other, well…. “What are you doing back here?! I told you to keep Master safe.”

“That is what I’m doing, now where is the river demon?” You question, looking between the two disciples.

“The moment he saw Brother Sun charging at us, he turned and fled back into the river.” Bajie explains, and you sigh in frustration. This could have been easier if that demon didn’t announce his presence by charging at your group. What did he have to gain by attacking anyone that passed by the river?!

The Monkey King quickly steps in before Tripitaka has the chance to voice any of his concerns. “You don’t have to worry, Master. We were just devising a plan to finish the demon off quickly so we can cross the river. You see, despite my skill, I am not the best at combat in the water. Fortunately though, Bajie is adequate enough to pull off what we want to do…”  

You don’t wait for him to finish. You don’t even bother interrupting, it would just waste time to argue with him. Instead, as the sage explains his plan with Pigsy to their master, you set your bow and quiver down on the ground. Transforming, you begin to ascend, flying over the stretch of water. It only takes you a few moments before you find yourself at an appropriate height above the river.

Zhu Bajie is the first to look back and spot you, his eyes narrowed and confused. “Brother Sun?” The demon nudges his fellow disciple, gaze focused on the sight before him.

Wukong is quick to give him an irritated glance. “What is it, Idiot?”

“The woman is about to dive.”

It’s almost as if the pebble of realisation skips over his mind for a moment before sinking in. “What?!”

“Sha Wujing! Surface and face your master!” By the time the other two men turn around to join Pigsy in looking upwards, you’ve already transformed back, shouting before plunging into the river’s murky depths.

The three can only stand there, staring at where their companion had been just a fraction of a moment ago. Even the dragon-horse stares at the point where you disappeared into the water. However, your absence isn’t long, and when resurfacing, they find you with the very demon who had attacked just a few minutes before. Sun Wukong is the first to move, ready to jump into action. 

That is, until the demon lets out a hearty laugh. “Ah, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me! You really are the dove that accompanied the Bodhisattva Guan Yin.”

“Yes, I am glad you remember me.” You nod before nodding in gesture to your fellow travellers ashore. “However, I am now travelling with your master and his other disciples, the one you were instructed to wait for. The same men you so shamelessly tried to attack earlier.”

The demon looks back to the others on the shoreline, their confusion shared amongst their expressions, his brows shooting up in worry. “Oh! I see. Forgive me, young one. I hadn’t realised you were all so close, I’ve been waiting for so long.” He chuckles, almost bashfully, like the misunderstanding was nothing more than a simple mistake.

“Why don’t we go back and you can apologise to the monk yourself.” You suggest, and the sand-demon nods.

Together, you swim back towards your companions waiting on the shore. As you hobble back onto land, looking like a drowned rat, you’re greeted by the other men with silence. Now, finally holding their attention captive, you explain. “Tripitaka, I would like you to meet your fourth and final disciple, Sha Wujing.”

“Fourth?” Pigsy echoes, and with the silence broken, Monkey interjects.

“Why in the world would you attack us?! Why didn’t you say anything??” He points to you, twisting and squeezing the water from your clothes.

You laugh at his almost exasperated tone. “I’d explain that I tried, but you are the one person in the world incapable of understanding how frustrating it can be to get through to that thick skull of yours.” A semblance of a chuckle comes from Tripitaka, and it takes a good amount of self control not to laugh aloud at the outright look of offence on Wukong’s face when he turns to face his master.

Wujing clears his throat to grab hold of their attention once more. “I would like to apologise, Master. If I had known you were the scripture pilgrim, I would not have attacked you.”

“Wait a moment, why would you say fourth?” Bajie interjects, still stuck on your earlier statement.. “Sun Wukong and I are master’s only other disciples.”

Tripitaka is the one to answer in your place, patting the side of the horse gently. “You forget Ao Lie, he joined us just before you did.”

“…The horse?!”

“Actually, he’s a dragon.”

“…” He doesn’t say anything, though the expression of unfiltered befuddlement says all you need to know.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Shifting Wings: Chapter Eleven

Shifting Wings: Before the Raven Matthew, there was Jessamy, and Jessamy came with a little sister by the name of Adrienne. Dream adores his two little Ravens, but after over a hundred years of imprisonment and the death of Jessamy, Dream will find that he has not just lost his companion, but his beloved little Raven Adrienne no longer brightens the halls of his Palace. None of his staff wish to speak of where the Raven has gone, but the silent new resident of the palace is cause for question. After all, she was the one who aided in his release. If none of his subjects would help him find Adrienne, perhaps she could lead him to the whereabouts of the missing Raven. If only the woman wasn’t so flighty and hard to track down.

Warnings: Nudity, Hell, Angst.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x FemaleRaven!Reader, NAMED Reader (I like the name).

Word Count: ~2.9k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

“So… you knew Jessamy?” Matthew asked, cocking his head to the side as you shelved some books for Lucienne.

“Yes, I did,” You answered, wondering why the raven was bringing the topic of your sister up. She was dead and had been for nearly a century. Why was there such an emphasis on her now? “What is it that you wish to inquire?”

“I just— I just want to know more about her, you know, being Morpheus’s raven and all now. I have no idea what I am doing.”

“You are doing an adequate job, Matthew,” you informed him. “I do not see how discussing your predecessor will enhance your ability. You are different ravens.”

“Well it’s obvious Morpheus really cared about her!” Matthew protested, feeling like he was fighting an uphill battle with the Endless. It wasn’t like being a raven of Dream of the Endless came with a manual. “I don’t want to just exist within her shadow, I want to be useful to him, otherwise why am I here?”

Your fingers still against the spines of the books you shelved and you slowly shifted your gaze to him. Matthew was looking at you with such a pleading look. You were unaffected of course, but his desperation was palpable.

“You do realize that I am unable to sympathize with your situation as I cannot feel emotion… correct?” You asked the young raven. Matthew was unperturbed.

“Yeah, but you are the only one who will talk about her.” He pointed out. “Like, everyone is walking on eggshells about Jessamy and then even more when Adrienne is brought up… like what is up with Morpheus and Adrienne? Cause I’m sensing some sort of attachment or— or a relationship between them? I mean Adrienne was a raven wasn’t she? How does that… work?”

“Lord Morpheus is an anthropomorphic personification of dreams and reality.” You explained. “He personifies an idea, not a thing, and therefore does not necessarily conscribe to the social norms of humanoids. As for his relationship with Adrienne, not even I know what it was nor what it could have been. I simply understand it as a relationship in which two beings found comfort and understanding within each other.”

“Yeah this is making my head hurt just trying to think about it.”

“My apologies for causing such duress.” You told the raven, eyeing him closer. “I am sure you do not need the complexities of such relationships to cause you more stress for understanding.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Matthew replied, shaking his head. “I just— Everyone keeps putting Adrienne on such a pedestal, like she meant everything to Morpheus. Like he loved her. Pretty sure he does at this point, he’s sulking about her right now… and assuming she loved him back why hasn’t she shown up yet? Was it one sided? I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding him. If she loves him? Why is she not here? Lucienne and Mervyn keep avoiding mentioning where she is every time she comes up in conversation, and every time Morpheus asks where she is, they get all suspicious and try to bail answering the question. They know something about her, and aren’t telling anyone.”

You blinked at Matthew’s words, surprised at how astute he was to your and Morpheus’s relationship despite still being so new. He was an adequate raven for Morpheus, even if he did not think so. As for Lucienne and Mervyn’s behavior when Adrienne was mentioned, you were sure it was because they still had emotions. Another reason to not have them, emotions were so meddlesome and tiring. But you would not leave Matthew hanging on questions, not when his role for your lord was so important.

“No, Morpheus’s love was was not one sided.” You replied quietly, your mind thinking back to the time Adrienne spent at his side, faithful and dutiful. She hadn’t done much other than be the palace artist, but Morpheus had greatly appreciated her time and company, and often sought her out. She’d been rather pathetic and pitiful now that you thought about it. One look at her and everyone could see how enamored she was with the Dream Lord. How in love. “Conventional, it was not, but her presence was enough for Lord Morpheus.”

“Ah, I guess that explains why the boss is so insistent on Adrienne making an appearance. He’s probably craving her attention at the moment,” Matthew cawed, bobbing his head and shifting his feet. “She better show up or he’s gonna be real pissed. I think the boss might start crying soon…” You blinked, you mind mulling over Matthew’s words. Surely an exaggeration. Her presence was not needed for Morpheus, just a helpful addition. She was a mere blip within his endless existence.

“Adrienne is dead,” You stated flatly. “And whatever Morpheus is looking for, no longer exists, if it ever did in the first place.” It was, perhaps, cruel and heartless of you to say that, but your words were true. Morpheus had set a firm line between him and Adrienne. Nothing was ever to come from it… so why should that change now? Adrienne was dead. Adrienne is dead. She was at peace in eternal slumber, sheltered from her pain, her agony. You would keep it that way. She would not hurt under your care. Matthew stared at you, slightly bothered by the fact that you seemed to know so much, but were entirely convinced Adrienne was dead. How could you know more about her than anyone else? Were you friends with her? And why did you say that she was dead, when everyone else said otherwise?

“That’s not what Mervyn and Lucienne say,” Matthew quietly commented, shuffling his feet and staring at the table he stood on. “That’s not what Morpheus believes.”

“Mervyn and Lucienne didn’t know Adrienne like I did,” You replied, trying to be less stoic and flat to the raven. “Lord Morpheus has been gone for one hundred and six years, how would he know of her condition?” Matthew wilted as you went back to shelving books, your stoicism and emotionless state getting to him once more. You dismissed his echoing words, focusing on the task at hand.

He was new, he would learn.

“So… you want me to be a carrier pigeon to Lucifer!?” Matthew questioned as his feathers ruffled and raised. “Like the mother fuckin’ devil!?”

“Yes, Matthew, I believe you have already met? It shouldn’t be too difficult for you to drop off a letter for me. You needn’t do anything more than that.”

“Okay, yeah, I can do that… but did you see the way some of those demons eyed me? It was like they were looking at a chicken!!” Matthew burst out, waving his wings about and airing his displeasure. “One of them might decide to turn me into fried raven!”

“The Morningstar would not dare to directly attack you, Matthew.” Morpheus sighed, not eager to send his raven to hell but knowing that he had to. “I must reassert myself and the Dreaming as a place of power so those that seek us harm do not think we are available prey.”

“Sorry I know, I know, I just don’t wanna get eaten by any of them,” The raven muttered. “Died once, not interested in dying a second time, ya know?”

“I would not send you if I had another choice, Matthew,” Morpheus said, his eyes tightening. Matthew bobbed his head before waddling forwards and taking the offered invitation from Morpheus. “You only need to be there as long as it takes to deliver my invitation, there is no need for you to tarry.”

“Don’t plan on it!” Matthew chirped, attempting to be enthusiastic about his job. Swooping into the air, he disappeared into a portal that led to hell, hoping that this would be a very uneventful trip. He still found flying through the netherworld odd, but Matthew managed to pop out in hell just fine. It was just as misty and creepy as it was the first time he had been… and it seemed grimmer than before if that was even possible.

“Get to Lucifer, give invitation, leave,” Matthew chanted to himself, clenching the letter within his grasp. He then fluttered his way through the dominion of the devil. Matthew made it to the throne room of sorts where Lucifer and Morpheus had their challenge and touched down on black marble. Standing on the balcony was the formidable figure of the devil, dressed in white. That didn’t take away from their menacing aura. Or their cruel beauty.

“Hello, raven,” Lucifer drew out, slowly looking over their shoulder to eye the lone raven. “What brings you by my domain?” Matthew felt a shiver of fear run up his spine and he forced himself to step forwards, taking the letter from his beak and holding it with his foot. Rather awkwardly too.

“Lord Morpheus has addressed this invitation to you,” Matthew explained, wanting to get this over with so he could go home.

“Did he,” Lucifer aired out, their eyes glimmering with deviousness and venom. “Come, raven, deliver your master’s invitation.”

Matthew had a bad feeling in his gut, but didn’t have much of a choice, so he took to the air and flew closer to Lucifer. He perched himself on the back of a chair and let Lucifer slowly, a little too slowly, take the invitation.

“Okay if that’s all, I should probably get back to Morpheus in case he needs something from me,” Matthew softly muttered, turning his body to take off and flee. Lucifer didn’t let him.

“Why in such a rush?” They asked with a small smile. “Do you not, enjoy hell? Or are we such bad hosts… surely you would like to see some of our sights.” Oh shit, how was Matthew going to say no to Lucifer!?

“It has been too long, Lucienne,” Morpheus spoke, drumming his fingers on the armrests of his throne. “It should have only taken Matthew but a moment.”

“Surely Lucifer wouldn’t threaten or hurt your raven, that would be an outright declaration of war.” Lucienne commented, her brow furrowed.

“I wouldn’t put the Morningstar past anything at this point in time.” The Endless growled, rising to his feet and stepping down the stairs. He approached Lucienne and thought over the scenarios that would delay Matthew. “I shall see what I can and we will go from there, there is no reason for Matthew to remain in hell this long.”

Morpheus concentrated on his connection to Matthew and viewed what his raven was seeing. Instantly he could feel Matthew’s panic as he urgently flailed and flapped around, dodging leering demons trying to get their hands on him.

“Hand off! Hands off!!” Matthew shouted urgently, his panic making his avian heart race unbearably fast. “I’m not gonna be your dinner!!” Morpheus jerked himself back from Matthew’s gaze, rage broiling within his body.

“They’ve attacked him,” Morpheus hissed, eyes blazing with Endless might and power. “I must—” He cut off at the sound of something heavy hitting the marble floor of the throne room. Lucienne and Morpheus turned to see you standing at an entrance, your face blank. You had dropped several books that you were bringing to Morpheus to aid in his quest to solve the current issue within the realm. Lucienne’s heart dropped knowing that you had heard that Matthew was in danger. She knew what you would try to do.

“Blanche,” Lucienne whispered in warning, her eyes showing her fear of your reaction. “Don’t— do not even entertain the idea of—” You were already moving, spinning in a circle to head out. Lucienne called to you one last time in desperation, her tongue slipping momentarily as desperation clawed to the forefront. “Adrienne!!”

A sickened feeling rushed through Morpheus as he watched your body shift and morph from humanoid to a gorgeous raven speckled with midnight and pearl. The very raven he had so desperately wanted to see since returning. You swooped upwards towards the ceiling, disappearing into a portal that would surely lead to hell. If the Endless had a heart, it had either dropped to his stomach or jumped into his throat as he stood frozen in place, trying to understand how Adrienne, his beautiful and gregarious raven, and turned into you. Cold, emotionless, hardened. A shell. You, his precious and beloved raven that Morpheus felt he could not live without, had been here the entire time, and he had not even recognized you.

“Lucienne,” Morpheus said, barely able to find his voice as his fingers dug into the armrests of his throne. “What happened?” Lucienne sighed heavily and peered at her lord and king over her spectacles.

“I’m afraid I cannot say as it is not my business, sir,” Lucienne answered. “Adrienne— Blanche, has requested for privacy and for us to not acknowledge her life as Adrienne. She says she is dead, and that is how she has lived in the past nine decades. As separate beings… and as much as you might wish to address this, we need to focus on Matthew.”

“He is in hell and Adrienne just went after him.” Morpheus hissed, eyes shimmering with supernovas.

“If anyone is going to get him back, it would be Blanche.” Lucienne softly pointed out, not looking forward to the hard conversation Morpheus was going to have with the woman he loved. “She is not the same as you remember, sir, she—” Lucienne paused, her gut twisting and clenching within her body. “I have not seen nor heard from the Adrienne we knew in nine decades, Blanche is in control. Not Adrienne.” Morpheus stared hard at his oldest raven, his vibrant blue eyes border lining silver, and watered down with innumerous unshed tears. Lucienne took a sigh and collected herself once more. “If you wish to inquire what happened to Adrienne, you must go through Blanche first.” An agonizing ideation, as nothing about Blanche was familiar… nor inviting.

Your wings angled your sleek body through the skies of hell as you scoped out poor Matthew who was being harassed by demons. Lucifer would not touch him, but that didn’t mean the demons would do the same. They were going after the touchable, the one that would hurt Morpheus the most should Matthew be killed. You would not allow that. Tucking your wings to your sides, you dove like a bullet for the group of demons. They were not expecting you to dive right into the fray, your feet an nails extended to scratch at their faces. They yelped at your dive bomb and dispersed, leaving Matthew in a dazed heap on the cold ground. You shifted from your raven form to your human form and scooped up the disoriented raven before taking off.

You streaked away from the demons, running through hell with Matthew clutched tight to your chest. The plan was to get Matthew as far from the demons as possible, and when he got his bearings back, send him through a portal back to the Dreaming. The dazed raven was moaning and mumbling nonsensical words against your skin as you rounded a corner and ducked an incoming mace.

“Two for one boys!” A demon crowed, crooked teeth baring at you in a twisted smirk. You were undaunted. “Fresh meats on the menu tonight!”

“I told you I had a bad feeling, sir,” Matthew babbled shaking his head and trying to clear the stars from his eyes. You scrambled over a rock and glanced down at him. “I don’t wanna be fried raven!”

“Matthew,” You called, hoping that he was well enough to fly on his own.

“You don’t sound like Morpheus,” The raven mumbled. “Way too pretty.” You shook the raven in your arm, trying to jostle him out his trance. “MATTHEW!” You barked at him, blocking a shower of rocks headed at you while you slipped your way down a mountainside. The raven snapped to.

“I’m awake, I’m awake!” The raven squawked, squirming in your arms. Then he realized where he was, and that you were clutching him to your chest. Not to mention you were naked. “What the fu—”

“You need to go!” You ordered, crouching down behind a large rock and pulling the raven from your chest. Matthew was placed on his feet and he shook himself out.

“How are you here!?” He asked, staring at you in shock before remembering that you were naked. He quickly covered his eyes with a wing. “I did not see anything I swear!”

“I got here the same way you did and the same way you shall leave.” You stated, eyes lifting to scan the horizon. “You must summon a portal and get back to the Dreaming.”

“You were a mothering fucking RAVEN this whole time!?!” You proceeding gaze had him shutting his beak and processing your words. Matthew would leave. You would stay. “Wait, what about you!?” Matthew protested.

“My life does not matter as I am not Morpheus’s familiar, he needs you,” You stated, glancing over the boulder once more. A demon caught sight of you and they started charging. “It is time to leave, young raven.” Plucking Matthew’s body from the ground, you surged to your feet and summoned all your concentration on building a portal straight to the Dreaming. In the distance one bloomed for you and you ran as fast as you could, Matthew protesting the whole way. You didn’t give him a chance to physically resist your actions because the moment you got within distance of the portal you threw the squalling raven through it as hard as you could.

Date Published: 7/12/23

Last Edit: 7/12/23

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[twofacedtrickery]

Alright, let's see how I should start this post. I suppose I should explain what I am doing and why. I am going to prove that Professor is fundamentally virtuous in nature. Well, I am going to try, at least.

Of course, this is going to be cause for rolled eyes and groans and questions of how, exactly, this is different than every other time I have insisted on his merits. I am going to try to give specific examples, that's how.

These examples are non-exhaustive, and they will be focusing on his merit in our relationship. I do have evidence of his merit in other aspects as well as far more evidence of his merit as a partner, but I am unable to share such.

All of that out of the way, I will begin. These examples will be in no particular order and will be limited to that which I feel is strongest to support my case.

First, there is how he has consistently been a source of safety for me. When I am alone with him, there are no expectations to meet. I can be anything I dreamed of in those moments. He had no reason to give me that safety at first, but he did. He chose to be compassionate despite having every reason not to.

Something that has come up before is his interrupting me. He gets no joy out of doing it, but he does it for me, anyway. He knows that doing so will help me stay clear headed and calm, so he does it.

There's his constant displays of respect for my emotions, even when they differ from what he expects or wants. I have never once needed to repeat myself if I found something he did to be disagreeable.

He makes me feel good, better than I ever did before meeting him. He does this consistently, eagerly, lovingly. He never leaves me doubting his care and affection, despite how easy it would be to do so. He has left me with more evidence of his feelings for me than I could ask for to hold in his frequent absences.

He lets me help him. He knows how much I want that, and I know that letting others help him can be difficult for him to do. He actively goes against his instincts to give me purpose and enrichment.

The one I want to end on is regarding my rescue. The mission itself was a selfless display of love and concern for me, acting to his own detriment to ensure my continued existence. The way he has handled me every day since that has been nothing short of angelic. There are things I do not have an interest in enumerating about that night that he has helped in ways that I cannot adequately describe.

He has done for me more than anyone could ever reasonably expect or want from another and asked nothing in return. If anyone is being too demanding and selfish in this relationship, it's me. I think he would tell me if he felt that way, though.

The point is that he is consistently going above and beyond what he needs to on our relationship, and these tendencies extend to his relationships with others, as well.

[chronicbeans]

The Oath

A "Tales from the Iolite Hospital" story

TW: Hospital Setting/Doctors, Mentions of Chronic Illness

I look up to the large wall in the break room. The ringing of music from my chest and the clicking of my gears is the only sound in the room. As such, the golden words on the wall seem to glare down at me with such intensity that I cannot look away. My robotic joints move on their own accord, approaching the plaque on the wall. The plaque was, supposedly, written by humans long ago, then sent to our world by accident.

"I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgement, this covenant.

I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.

I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures [that] are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.

I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.

I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery.

I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.

I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick."

I stop at the last part, feeling an odd, uncomfortable feeling swell in my chest. I cannot help but remember the look on Aluminum's face after our last appointment when I read the line "I will remember that I do not treat fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being..." We may not be humans, but I feel like I have done something wrong, either way. His words were cruel, but I feel as though they were, in some way, deserved.

I hear the door open and shut behind me. Turning, I see the face of my colleague, Nurse Angel, staring at me. Her voice Pierce's the silence of the room, making her presence known. "Dr. Cogsworth, what are you doing? Your patients are waiting."

I wish to move, to go see them, but I feel I must ask this question. The burning in my chest increases as the words leave my mouth "Are we doing something wrong?" "What do you mean?" "Each patient is different. We treat them almost exactly the same. Patients with a specific GI disease go through the same medications and such, regardless of their differences in other health areas."

She crosses her arms "You must be crazy, questioning that. Look... here's how it works: patient comes in. Patient is sick with say... gastroenteritis. Treat gastroenteritis the way every other case of gastroenteritis is treated. It has been proven to work, after all! Patient is cured. Patient goes home happy. Any differences in treatment are due to outside forces, like allergies or such. Doesn't that make sense?"

I slowly nod my head, explaining "What about the patients that never get better? The chronically ill? Like-" "Like Aluminum?" I hesitate, before nodding again "You are letting his case get to you. I have never believed you could truly care for a patient. Let me tell you something: I never have. You get too close, Dr. Cogsworth, and I never expected you to even be able to feel anything. That robotic expression of yours tells nobody anything."

Nurse Angel takes a deep breath, before continuing "You are letting one patient get to your head. You already know the protocol for chronic illness here. Treat them how their chart says to. The only reason why Aluminum skipped to dupilumab was because he can't swallow pills. When you tried to give him pills, he choked. The liquid slurry was skipped, too, because the creators of dupilumab wanted more EoE patients to experiment with. If this is about him, you know how to treat his case. His condition is still not well-known, so we need to experiment as we please with his case. So, just follow protocol, while asking administration for changes as you see fit with him. The protocol has been proven to work. There are only healthy and sick people in the world, our job is to cure sickness. The chronically ill should just be seen as a lifetime job." With those words, she leaves.

I look back to the plaque one last time. That burning in my chest is spreading to my face. Before I know it, I feel liquid running down my cheeks. I bring a few stiff, shaking fingers to my face, before looking down at them. A clear liquid, which I know as tears, covers the tips of my fingers. I don't know why, exactly, but I am crying.

I am crying and all I can think about is the upset faces of my patients, as well as the words of frustration they have said to me.

[casspurrjoybell-23]

The Raven - Chapter 14

*Warning Adult Content*

"I have been in the tower for my entire life," confesses Caleb, leaning back against the wall as he sits beside Prince Henry on the narrow bed. "Honestly, until recently, I had never even had the courage to venture out of this room," he says, his voice trailing off toward the end of his sentence, his emotions somehow choking him as he struggles to keep his voice steady.

The raven has never had anyone to talk to before, never had anyone to share his burdens with, he has never voiced the pain of his childhood aloud.

Something about opening up to Henry makes the raven feel warm and fuzzy and he latches onto the feeling, holding it securely within his heart.

Henry wonders quietly, his mind overrun with thoughts at Caleb's admission, he could not even imagine being locked in a single room for so many years.

His heart aches for the boy beside him, the overwhelming desire to comfort him and assure him that he no longer has to be alone practically devouring him whole.

Glancing around the small space, the prince asks...

"So you were born in this room?"

"Hmm... not born but created," the raven corrects, his head falling back against the wall behind him and his eyes falling closed.

As much as it pains him to think about it, Caleb cannot help the immense feeling of relief that swarms him as he explains.

"Mother used a combination of dark magic and raven feathers to create me. I do not know how, exactly, as she does not like to talk about it much. But it is the summary of my creation."

"Created from magic and feathers...?" Henry repeats quietly to himself.

He turns on the bed to gaze at the boy with the enrapturing red eyes, only to find those glowing crimson orbs already looking at him and filled with what Henry can only describe as longing.

The prince's cheeks flush pink and he fumbles his hands on the blanket-covered mattress, his fingers accidentally brushing Caleb's leg.

A visible shiver travels through the raven at the touch, catching Henry's attention instantly and sending an electric shock straight to his groin.

In a rush to conceal the tenting in his pants, the prince quickly returns to his original position.

He takes a deep breath before asking...

"Do you know how old you are?" The question itself is not entirely important, as Henry has already figured out that Caleb is indeed the so-called weapon created by the witch eighteen years ago.

However, it serves adequately as a distraction, allowing the offending appendage in his pants the opportunity to calm down.The raven nods in confirmation and replies...

"It was eighteen years ago, I do know that. Obviously, I do not remember much of anything from my earliest days, however, Mother began teaching me to use my magic in this very room not long after I had learned to walk and talk. She has always said that I must perfect my skills as soon as possible because I have a purpose to fulfill and I need to be thoroughly prepared."

"Do you know what the purpose is?" Henry asks curiously, this time only his head turning in the other boy's direction, he would not want to risk the same bodily reaction again.

How embarrassing it might be for Caleb to know just how powerful an effect he has over the prince.

"I am not entirely sure, Mother refuses to talk much about it. All she has said is that it is a matter of life and death and that I would not want to be the cause of someone losing their life if I neglected to hone my powers," Caleb answers quietly.

Guilt fills the cracks of his heart, he has not spent much of his free time practicing lately, regardless of the lies he feeds his mother.

While his skills have progressed to be far more superior than he lets on, the idea of risking an innocent person's life has the raven feeling significantly inadequate.

Henry simply nods in response, noting the similarities between the raven's story and the information given to him by Ella, however, he is wholly baffled by the understanding that this supposed 'weapon' is the seemingly sweet, charming and incredibly beautiful boy sitting beside him.

Sure, he possesses magic but could Caleb really willingly cause someone harm?

The prince finds this extremely doubtful.

How, then, could he be used as a weapon?

And why?

Henry's mind is flooded with questions he has yet to find answers to and with every new unanswered question, another one seems to pop up directly behind it.

And what exactly is this 'war' that is coming?

How is Caleb supposed to single-handedly stop it from causing havoc in the kingdom?

If Caleb knows he is meant to be used as a weapon, why has no one informed him what he will be fighting for or who against?

"Have you ever thought about leaving the tower?" asks Henry, deciding to start with a much simpler of his many questions.

He watches as the raven's eyes grow wide at his words, yet he holds his tongue.

As much as he wants to retract the question after seeing Caleb's almost fearful reaction, the invisible force connecting the two will not allow it, it is insistent that they get to know each other as much as possible.

"I have," Caleb carefully replies. "But Mother would never allow it, not even for a moment."

He swallows back the growing lump in his throat that threatens to constrict his airway, desperately trying to convince his body not to show any weakness, he does not want Prince Henry to see him like that.

The silence between them stretches on for several moments as Henry waits for Caleb to collect himself, his eyes worriedly traveling over the other boy in his evidently distressed state.

The heat of Henry's body as their legs brush against each other seeps into Caleb, soothing him slightly.

After a shuddering breath, he continues...

"I managed to get out of this room once, not long ago but it did not last long. And I know that if Mother ever found out, I would be punished severely."

The sadness in his voice has the prince's heart squeezing.

Henry leans closer to the dark-haired boy, looking deeply into his eyes and promises...

"I will get you out of here, Caleb. You deserve so much more than being locked away in a tower."

His arms twitch with the desire to hold him, to press Caleb against his chest and offer him endless comfort.

The thought occurs to him that such unexpected actions from someone he barely knows may startle the raven or make him uncomfortable.

Instead, Henry gently places his hand atop Caleb's, sweetly tracing his thumb over the back of his fingers.

A well of tears forms behind the raven's eyes as he soaks in the current situation, a warmth hastily spreading through him.

Could Henry really get him out of the tower?

Is it possible he could actually be his knight in shining armor coming to rescue him?

Could Caleb dare to dream just this once?

Only time will tell, he supposes.

[iamdrthekalki]

The day of 20 of may year 2017 is the simplest day of life. because from so many years I have been working on my self and may be that was reason which was preventing my enlightenment. Enlightenment is nothing but a self realisation of everything, the known the unknown and the unknowable. You recognised your self as part of the whole. You yourself feel as a drop of ocean. For the first time you are aware of everything which is available for you for so many years or may be from so many lives. you may came to realise that ignorance and misery has no start points and enlightenment has no end points, each and every moment you will be surprised by the existance in a mysterious way. You will realise for the first time that the misery started from no-where and mystery starts from nowhere. For the first time you realise there is nothing like past and future , you existed as present forever but some how you have managed to remain sleep and unenlightened, the experience of sat chit Anand awake you, when do you empty your self, you see existance starts rushing towards you and now there is no difference between anything Vs anything, just drop your ego, drop your personality , accept the reality of your being and you are at home. You never existed as separate personality ,you always stayed there , you never leaved the place but some how you forgeted the reality,you awake like thunder and in space of time everything seems so clear and so real to you that you cannot believe on it, you want to call it name but you itself don't know it's name it's nature or anything about it , it seem like dream but there is only criterion is you cannot ask this question in dreams , this is your ego which prevents you from your true self, the day you recognise mind as mirror, no thoughts , no clouds , you are responsible for your own misery, you are responsible for your own blissfulness. You will realise yourself as tiny ego which is resisting truth, a drop of ocean is thinking there self as a separate entity, and this separation is suddenly melt , drop has merged with ocean, now the question is not who am I, or what am I , or why am I, or how am I here, now for the first question changes its pattern, now you came the real question" what it is called , you can conceive this experience into any other worlds, there is no language which can explain this deep feelings, except silence, words will look like very fragile in comparison of this experience, so now the question is not remain the same , it has changed his form, for the first time you came to know there is no question, and you are asking your self "what is the question", words become adequate , you know it but you cannot conceive this experience into any other way, for the first time you know it but you cannot name it, it doesn't needs your name, it doesn't depends on what you call it, the very word enlightenment seems to be very small , you want to name it and for the first time you are searching not answer but instead of answers you are searching a big question "what it is ". For the first time you are waking from dreams. Now there is no body who is standing and saying I am enlightened, because the day you enlightened yourself you enlightened everything around you, you will realise dance is the only key, music is the only key, love and compassion is the only key to live the mystery of life, now you have the answers before the question, You came to know everything is as it should be, there no need to any change any corrections, it is as beautiful as it is, but you were not aware , you were wondering somewhere else, you left the home and searching some where else , it is your nature it is your true being, your very core of the centre, you are searching god sincerely but he is searching you desperately, for the first time you came to realise god loves you more you love him, for the first time you came to know what is reaching home

[positivlyfocused]

Why We Are Here: A Great Hidden Gift

Why are we here?

Many people ask this question at some point in their life. But the correct answer lies beyond most people’s understanding. For most people, as Jack Nicholson said in A Few Good Men, “… can’t handle the truth!” 🤣 It’s just too beyond most people’s understanding.

We come into physical reality as humans as a great gift to All That Is. And to ourselves. Even if we don’t understand the reason why, we still get the magnificent gift.

No, it’s not heaven.

We come here, because the very act of coming is literally Universal expansion. It literally is All That Is focusing itself into becoming more of all that is. I know I’m using the word “literally” often in this paragraph. But it literally cannot be stated anymore clearly: our individual human experience is the process by which All That Is becomes more.

Universal expansion, therefore, occurs through the billions of consciousnesses here on Earth. Earth and elsewhere. So not only do humans contribute to it, but every instance of existence does too, whether humans believe that existence is sentient or not. That’s rocks. That’s water. Even air. It’s bacteria. It’s everything.

The best experience of this process happens when an instance of conscious adds to expansion while being consciously aware of its doing that. For in that sacred, glorious act, life becomes delicious. Which explains why animals don’t struggle or toil. They live in Joy.

And so can we.

It’s the Charmed Life

Even the word “delicious“ cannot adequately convey how satisfying that awareness is. But the Positively Focused practice creates this awareness. This awareness, produces the Charmed LifeI write about. It starts with satisfying people’s desires. Satisfied desires form the basis of the Charmed Life.

But eventually, focus expands to include bolder initiatives. Initiatives leading to the bliss expressed above. Bliss born of an awareness that one is god in human form.

The Charmed Life is us living as All That Is. Meanwhile, our nonphysical cadre animates all we experience. It maintains our physical bodies, and, one by one, fulfills our desires. Desires which flow easily into our awareness. All in perfect timing.

^^The Charmed Life becomes ours when we’re aware of our purpose and living from there.

Even those words above don’t capture life’s fullness and delight. But as we continue being Positively Focused, our experience shows us what these words cannot describe.

That experience encourages bolder exploration. We want to see how far we can take this. There are no limits. That’s what makes the Universe unlimited too.

The impossible made possible

So physical life experience is All That Is expanding. Each of us are instances of All That Is participating in its expansion. The complete fullness can’t happen though. That’s because we are all eternal. We’re constantly becoming more. And there’s always more to become. We live, therefore, in perpetual incompletion. That too is a gift.

I can attest to gratification expanding awareness offers. It is this satisfaction that emboldens me. That’s why I pursue things people believe impossible. Only they are not impossible. They only seen that way from limited perspective. From broader awareness, however, everything is possible.

Sound amazing? I think so too! But knowing so is even more amazing!

Realizing that amazingness is part of Universal expansion. So extending one’s ambitions into the realm of the “impossible” represents understanding life’s great hidden gift. It also adds new into the Universe. Something All That Is constantly reaches for.

Because the new usually feels impossible. Until it is done.

The wonder of conscious participation

Our participation is a given. The only option is this: are we participating consciously? My clients are on their way to conscious participation.

I’d love to include you among us.

We come into this world for divine purposes. Universal expansion is the reason we’re here. Our participation is the nature of the Universe. Conscious realization of that has no peer. Extreme satisfaction, delight, and joy results from that. It is the Charmed Life I write about.

Experience it yourself. Contact me. Let’s get started.

[airiat]

Hello! I am an aspiring graduate student, possibly going into a post doc. I love writing fanfic, yet I feel like I must focus on academic writing.

How do you reconcile both styles?

i'm interpreting this question in two different ways. let me speak to both of them. but also know that i am extremely biased--academic writing torments me. i have nothing positive to say about it. this is long, so here's a cut.

one: there is no need to reconcile both styles. you can keep the creativity out of academic writing, and, in many cases, it's necessary to do so. do not think of your academic writings as works of art. think of them as a means to an end. you just need to fulfill a set of requirements. you just need to get a grade. you just need to make a point. they can be soulless. it's alright if they are.

however. you can be creative if it's appropriate, if it makes you feel better to do so. here's the introduction to a paper i wrote last term. you'll see what i mean:

To be human is to tell stories. For as long as we have had minds to think and mouths to speak with, we have been weaving tales about ourselves, our ancestors, about how to explain the way the world works around us. People have been using art, for perhaps almost just as long, to grapple with the pain that comes as a part of living. From J. R. R. Tolkien conjuring a literary marvel out of the horrors he endured in WWI to a teenage girl scribbling angry poetry in detention, creative writing has become a way for us to cope and overcome. It is only natural that it could also be used as a therapeutic tool to process trauma.

this is not my best work. frankly, i don't care that it isn't. it just made me feel a little bit better to write this way. it gave me the relief of that little creative spark while i wrote something that i have to turn my brain off in order to cope. sometimes that's all it has to be. but my professors probably liked it. i got 100% on this paper.

you can grow as a writer through academic writing. it will teach you how to organize your thoughts and present ideas clearly. it will teach you how to convince and how to be concise. but, again, i say: your writing does not have to be a masterpiece. do not hold it to the same standard as the work that you are passionate about. but if you are, perhaps, passionate about academic writing, go ahead and give it that treatment. i'm not, so i won't. i'll cry about an assignment and grit my teeth through the whole thing. that's okay, too. it gets it done.

lastly, my first draft is my final. i run it through grammarly and then hit that submit button. if you have been writing, in any capacity, for a long time, you can probably do this, too. you'll have the foundational skills down, and you can be adequate, or even above adequate, in anything you write with little effort. you can also use your creative process in academic writing. if you outline, you can outline. if you pants, go ahead and do it here, too. use your editing practices. don't reinvent the wheel.

all in all, your professors are not expecting beauty. they just want you to follow their rubric. toss your work into the ether, get the grade, and then forget about it.

two: i'm not sure that this is what you were asking, but i thought i'd talk about it, too, briefly. how can you continue to pursue your creative endeavors while also in school?

believe it or not, you can. it just takes a lot of sacrifice. i'm in school, i work a highly, highly stressful job, and yet, just about every night i sit down and write. but i also have no social life. absolutely none. that's my sacrifice. but it does not feel much like a sacrifice because i need to write. i cannot live without it. it's the only thing i do that makes me feel like i can actually get through my days.

if there's a will, there's also a way. if writing is important enough to you, you will find a way to do it at any cost.

but even if you love writing with the whole of your heart, do not feel badly if you just can't swing it while you're in school, or when you're enduring another stressful time of life. it's okay. it'll be there for you again when you're ready. you're always a writer, even when you're not writing.

hopefully this helped in any small way. but i'm not really in the best place right now, being bitter and resentful toward academia. take it all with a grain of salt.

[theworldisyourlobster]

Who are you and what do you do.

Something that I like about writing is that it is a record.  It gives me breathing space for when someone asks me a seemingly normal question.  

Where are you from 

Where are you based 

What do you do 

The current political climate render this  the same kind of trap question 

As when your hinge date asks you what music you like.  

There is a genre of questions - that although seem to have an easy and straightforward to answer are in fact impossible to adequately tackle in a brief sentence.  Leaving you defeated - feeling you have oversimplified your very existence.  

 When asked where I am - to most I think a not too challenging a demand.  Usually obvious from accent. InsteadI am forced in that moment to perform a character assessment of my questioner.

 Are they worth a dive into the abyss to cover when I mention Ukraine.  

 They can say something that is they say something meaningful, and maybe it’s enough. Sometimes they go on and on about how sorry they are, a sin I don’t feel adequate to annul.   Sometimes they have not that much to say - awkwardly underplay the trauma the whole thing has caused me - for self protection I skim the wars impact, I make a dark joke to level our discomfort.  Sometimes I talk, I explain for what seems like hours.  Opening myself up to deep for someone I have just met.  

Recently I cannot be bothered so I reply my family is still alive - leave it at that 

Another possibility in this scenario they tell me they are from Russia, or worse, that they have sympathies.  These rare occasions I want to shout.  I want to be violent.  I want to stay I wish every Russian would die.  I want to say they are all evil, spit on the ground and turn on my heal. 

I rationalise that  as well as being a major social faux pas, this would not be helpful to my cause, as now it is my duty to take a deep breath and humour them. But to what end? They are an idiot. And now any light conversation we may seek to pursue is futile and I am false. 

Unable to adequately tackle even surface level questions - conversation can be exhausting.  Maybe in writing I hope to answer any number of possible questions.  One day I hope to carry around little slips of paper - that explain my social predicament.  Answers to any query, one may face.  I could just reach into my pocket and pull of a corresponding answer written in beautiful cursive script by an assistant.  

I don’t know how practical this would be, as my pockets might get quite full, and my fumbling might stunt the interaction.. Let me dream.  Of a time when talking is easy, with people to whom I don’t have to explain.  Below surface level I could get somewhere, covering the little amusing particularities of this thing called life.  

[a-witch-in-endor]

I wonder if you might be willing to explain what philosophical razors are? I realize the answer is easily searchable, but it also seemed like something that you might enjoy explaining, should the opportunity present itself.

Hi anon! A philosophical razor is a rule of thumb that allows you to shave off unnecessary/unlikely explanations/debates/etc. It's not a law, in that there are likely always situations in which you'd choose not to apply it based on context, but it helps to navigate arguments and explanations.

Is it possible that I got on this train via alien transport after being abducted last night? Yeah, sure, I guess, but Occam's Razor (explanations that require fewer assumptions are usually correct) would suggest that I probably just bought a ticket and walked onto the train.

I'm not a huge fan of this razor because I think truth does not tend toward simplicity, but it's clearly useful so I won't rage against it. In the story that prompted this ask, Keith is using Occam's Razor to keep anyone from getting too close. Occam's Razor + razor wire = "occam's razor wire".

Some razors are helpful for everyday life. My favourite razor is Hanlon's Razor: never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity. This shaves off all the unlikely explanations about how the man who bumped into me at the train station was doing it deliberately because he's an antisemite who's really good at spotting religious Jewish women via our skirt length and says: the more likely explanation is that he was just being absentminded.

Some razors aren't necessarily useful for every day, but are good for philosophy and debate. Hume's is-ought problem isn't called a razor (though it's sometimes called Hume's Guillotine) but falls under that category: you cannot derive an ought from an is. We're always doing that in life because we infer the relationship between the factual and the ethical, but in philosophy, it's important to note (or at least, I agree that it's important to note) that we should not jump from statements of fact to statements of prescription without something solid between. E.g. you can assert the fact that I am currently on a train, but you can't leap from there to saying I ought to pay for my train ticket without something linking the factual statement and the prescriptive statement. (Again, irl, we just intuit the middle ground - but that's not good enough for philosophers and ethicists).

And some razors are just people attempting to assert their own opinions and dismiss others based on their feelings. E.g. Alder's Razor: if someone cannot be proven through experiment and observation, it's not worthy of debate. Sure, Alder would love to argue about whether this train has WiFi and then look up the answer, but apparently doesn't care to debate when it stops being the Train of Theseus because that's a question of identity and how we interact with the nature of time. Which, let's be clear, is just Alder being lazy and uninteresting and calling it a razor.

[urfavstargirl1]

Streets - a Kylo Ren One Shot

Song Request: Streets by Doja Cat

request a song blurb here!

Requested by: @musicheaux

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

***

A/N: this is my favorite Doja Cat song so I really tried to do it justice! also for my regular readers, hopefully this is a nice break from the empress :)

Summary: months after your terrible breakup with Kylo Ren, you run into him and all those feelings you tried to bury come rising to the surface

warnings: angst

———

“Hi,” I squeak.

“Hi,” he softly mutters in shock. His hazelnut colored eyes peer into mine. There’s a softness to them I once knew, but now they’re tinged with dreariness. It could be fatigue, but it could also be that deep well of pain he knew all too well how to contain.

“How are you,” I ask. We both know the answer to this question, but what else could I possibly say?

“I’m… fine,” he responds and all I can seem to do is nod.

“How are you,” he asks. His lips contort into the shape of a circle at his last word. His pink lips look so soft and full. They’re the same lips that used to profess his love for me. The very same ones that would caress every inch of my skin if given the chance. Now, they belong to a stranger.

“I… could be better,” I admit shakily. His eyebrows slightly furrow and he turns his head ever so slightly to the side. His soft waves follow the movement and it takes everything in me not to reach out and run my fingers through them.

“Have you been sleeping well,” he asks and I shake my head. I couldn’t fall asleep even if I tried. And if I do somehow manage to fall asleep, all I see are visions of the prince of Alderaan. His long thick fingers intertwined with mine. His glossy black waves sprawled out on the pillow next to me. The glow of starlight and the subsequent shadows it cast on his face.

“I can tell,” he comments.

“I could say the same,” I reply. Despite how alluring his irises are, it doesn’t distract me from the subtle bags under his eyes and lack of color in his cheeks. It seems we’ve both been going through some things.

“Oh, yeah… that…” he mutters, struggling to deliver an ever so calculated response. It’s somewhat relieving to know we’re both having to try so hard to keep our cool.

“Getting adequate rest is a bit difficult… in such an empty bed,” I say, peering into his eyes. He matches my gaze, and we stand before the other, ascertaining all the words we cannot say with a simple glimpse into the others eyes.

I wonder if, in his moments of insomnia, he thinks about me too. In his head, do we still belong? Does he wish we’d worked it out, like I do? Does he regret needing space, like I do? Does he hate being so far from me, like I do him?

“I suppose there is a semblance of truth to that statement,” he coldly replies.

Instead of sinking to my stomach, my heart turns to ice and nearly cracks into tiny pieces. This is not the same man who used to fantasize of the day we would run away together. Away to a place where no one would know us and we could start anew. A place where we could get married and start a family. A place where we could live a life of our dreams, free from the trials, tribulations, and obligations of our life here.

“I–”

“Good afternoon, Kylo,” a female from behind me says. Her slender frame glides across the space. As she passes him, she snakes her bony fingers across his shoulders for a moment then keeps passing through onto her next destination.

Kylo turns over his shoulder and reciprocates the greeting to her. When he turns back to me, his smile falters. It takes everything in me not to spontaneously combust. We were made for each other, now here’s some other woman trying to get at my dude.

“That was…” he starts to explain.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” I lie. Who was that? Who does she think she is? Touching him like that for all to see. The only person who should be doing that is me.

“Mhm, y/n,” he muttered between kisses.

“No,” I uttered under my breath and resumed the kiss. As I deepened it, he groaned. My fingertips dragged across the porcelain skin of his shoulders while his found their way to the small of my back. After some time, I pulled away for a breath of air. His ragged breathing was music to my ears.

“Y/n,” he whispered.

“Mhm,” I responded while placing soft kisses along his cheek and moving my way downward to his neck.

“I think we should–,” he says until I locate his sweet spot and an involuntary moan travels out his mouth.

“Hm,” I hum in response, smiling into my kiss.

“Really, we should–,” he starts and I repeat my motion, resulting in another moan from him.

“What were you saying,” I ask softly as I move away from his neck and face him.

“Y/n, I… I love you but I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he blurts out. Everything in me falls apart.

“What,” I whisper.

“I-I can’t keep doing this back and forth. One day you want me and the next day you don’t. I can’t take it,” he says, shifting his body away from mine.

“What do you mean? We can work this out,” I reply.

“We’ve tried to work this out,” he exclaims, then, under his breath utters, “I wanted to work this out.”

“What do you mean you wanted?”

“I would have given up everything to be with you, y/n. But I wasted my time realizing you wouldn’t do the same.”

“Kylo, how can you say that? I love you. I want to be with you, but I need time. It’s just… too much… too soon… It’s like I’m stuck in the middle and baby, I need you to pull me out.”

“Well, you may not want to know now, but you’ll find out sooner or later and I’d rather you hear it from me,” he starts and consequently knocks all the air out of my lungs. Is that his new… girlfriend? Already?

“She was an old friend from my childhood. We lost touch for many years but she moved aboard Starkiller base recently and we’ve… uh… reconnected,” he recounts, rubbing his palm along the back of his neck.

“Oh,” I respond.

“It’s still early, but… I want to see where things go with her.”

“Oh, ok,” is all I manage to deliver without throwing up. We were like birds of a feather, but now he’s found another to flock with.

“What about you? Have you been seeing anyone?”

It’s been several weeks, so I guess I should be, but I’m not, at least not seriously. I found it hard to find someone like him. I’ve gone on dates and met others, but none have been able to make me feel the way he did. Kylo really was a one in a million. There isn’t a man like him in this whole galaxy.

“Um, here and there,” I responded truthfully, albeit pathetically compared to his response.

I used to think Kylo was the right person for me, but it was just the timing that was wrong. I hoped that one day when the time was right, we’d find our way back to each other. Yet here we are. I guess if he was truly the right person for me, it never would have been the wrong time.

“Oh,” he responds, his eyes turning ever so glossy.

“Please don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you pity me. I don’t want it nor do I need it for that matter.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m just…”

When he struggles to figure out how he wants to respond, I take it as my cue to leave. I can’t stand being here in front of him anymore. Being with Kylo always made me feel lightweight and full of energy, and now it’s anything but.

“It was um, nice seeing you, but I should probably get going,” I say.

“Oh, um, okay… well, take care of yourself y/n,” he says with concern. I always have Kylo, I always have.

“Oh, um, you too,” I say and practically run away.

Up until this moment, I still held on to the hope that we belonged together. It’s gotten smaller as the time has passed, but it was still there till Kylo took it just now and crushed it in his large gloved hands.

Seeing him like this, I still feel like I can't be without him, but I know I have to be. I know I need to move on, but it’s hard because whenever I look at Kylo, I think, why can't I find no one like you?

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

Kinda hate myself for coming up with this one, but: A young teenage (Maybe 13 or 14 year old) SS who was raised in an abusive family and as a result, is very jumpy and easily scared, and can't stand up for herself very well.

Dang, y’all are gluttons for punishment with all this angst.... 😔 But I do like writing it 😂🤣

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy! 💙💛

Cait - Immediately feels deep sympathy for the kid, and she resolves to take her under her wing. If anyone dares mess with the girl, Cait can and will become volatilely and aggressively violent as she defends her little buddy. No one will ever put their hands on the girl again. Not on Cait's watch.

Piper - Feels her stomach flop as soon as she realizes that the kid instinctively flinches when Piper reaches up to try to touch her face or to put a hand on her shoulder. Piper quickly makes it her mission to introduce the kid to as many kind touches as Piper can spring on her. She also will jump all over someone else if they try to hurt the kid regardless if physical or emotional injury is intended.

Curie - Feels absolutely horrible for the girl, and she is offering her hugs as often as she can. She always wants to make the girl feel comfortable, happy, and safe as she can possibly be. If anyone tries to insult or hurt the girl, Curie does the best she can to defend her, explaining to the offender that they are being quite rude and awfully inappropriate. They usually end up laughing at Curie, so she just leads F!Sole away from the situation.

MacCready - Feels pretty sorry for the kid and tries to watch over her in as non-hovering of a manner as he can. If someone tries to mess with her, he is quickly there to back her up and he threatens them quickly. They usually do not take him seriously. That is, until he pulls out his gun and tells them that they better leave her alone or they'll figure out just how serious he is.

Deacon - Before he even knows her personally, he sees how jumpy she is, so he makes a mental note to keep an eye out for her. During his times undercover watching her, if someone messes with her, he will actually interfere, utilizing his undercover identity as a drifter or a scavver and staying in character the entire time he defends her. When she actually knows who he is, he keeps up this trend of protecting her except now he will do it regardless of whether he's undercover or not.

Codsworth - Feels frustrated and upset that he could never do anything about it. He was programmed to serve her parents first and foremost, and while he could offer her comfort after they hurt her, he could not stop them. He blames himself for her condition, but he tries to make it up to her by defending her to the best of his abilities and standing by her loyally always.

Hancock - Immediately feels terrible for the kid, and resolves to do everything in his power to make sure that she is completely untouchable. By the time he's through, absolutely no one in Goodneighbor lays a hand on her and most of them are either very respectful or completely avoid her. Out in the wasteland, if someone even tries to hurt her, he is already gutting them with a knife before guiding her away carefully.

Danse - Feels very sorry for her and decides that he will keep her as safe as he can. Of course, absolutely everyone around is extremely discouraged from hurting her physically or emotionally when she has a giant, power-armor-clad paladin behind her that looks like he could kill them with just a flex of his pinky toe. He keeps her very safe and he always offers a sympathetic ear if she needs to talk about things.

Preston - Cannot believe that someone from such a perfect world knows intimately about abuse. He feels terrible for her, and he does the best he can to make her feel as safe as possible. He often pats her on the shoulder when she does a good job with something, and he tries to praise her a lot for things so maybe she can build her confidence back up. He also will lead her away from a situation if someone is being confrontational.

Valentine - Feels as if he's been hit in the gut when he realizes it. He from then on keeps an even closer eye on her and he makes sure that no one messes with her. He also offers to talk to her about stuff, and offers advice whenever he can. He just tries to play the role of a wise grandfatherly figure for her.

X6-88 - Feels that the situation is terribly unfortunate. He does not act much different, but he does more proactively take part in defending her and keeping her safe. If anyone even says anything less than kind or respectful to her, he withdraws his gun and tells them to step away from the situation quickly.

Dogmeat - Smells the fear on her when she is near large people or when people seem angry or upset about anything. Therefore, he just stands closer to her, pressing his nose against her hand until she pets him. If anyone tries to get in her face, he is immediately growling and if anyone dares raise their hand as if they might hit her, he is jumping to attack. No one will hurt her ever on his watch.

Strong - Tells her that she needs to be stronger. He tells her that she has to be mean and loud to show other tiny humans that she is boss and the best fighter. He is somehow really encouraging in his strange way and if anyone tries to mess with her when he is around, he is all but ripping them apart as he starts attacking in a pure rage.

Maxson - Feels quite bad for the child and resolves to keep her doing things on the Prydwen in order to keep her away from anyone who might be toxic toward her. He starts out giving her relatively easy things to do so she can succeed and feel good about herself. If anyone criticizes her work while she is in earshot, he will make sure that there is adequate punishment.

Sturges - Feels terrible for the girl, and he does the best he can to watch over her. He gives her plenty of work to do with him, and they talk about all sorts of things while they're working on different projects. He just tries to make her feel comfortable around him. However, if anyone messes with her, he will stand up for her quite sufficiently, telling the people to back off. People usually do not question him since he has such muscles and he looks so threatening when he scowls. Even if he truly would not hurt a fly.

Glory - Feels awful for the kid, and asks Desdemona if she can mentor the girl. Desdemona agrees, and Glory immediately starts trying to show her how to stand up for herself. Of course, Glory stands up for her regardless of whether the kid is trying to stand up for herself or not. When Carrington starts talking down to her and treating her less than nicely, Glory is already in his space, practically snarling in his face as she tells him to leave the kid alone.

[dp-marvel94]

I am you (and you are me)

For Invisobang 2021. Art by @bibliophilea

On AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Summary: Set post Kindred Spirits. Something has been different since Danny came back from Vlad's and it started when the older half ghost had the tiny clone overshadow him. The half ghost remembers: His own screams. A pain in his inmost being, in his core. A tug back and forth. Being squeezed. A crash, a collision. And then... the blackness of death.

Danny comes back from the experience changed, with the memories of two lives stuffed in his head and new powers. The fire powers are pretty cool but shrinking, often involuntarily, makes him feel weak and vulnerable. All of it, the powers and memories, terrify him as he learns what they mean. And the thought of telling his loved ones...How can the half ghost hope that Jazz, Sam, and Tucker will understand and accept him now when he himself cannot?

Warnings and Tags: Self harm, Identity confusion, Self-Hatred, Ectoplasm and melting clones related gore, Clone Angst, Nightmares, Memory Issues, Involuntary Shrinking. Panic Attacks, Frostbite is Danny’s Icedad.  Evil Vlad Masters, Bad Parent Vlad Masters, Split Danny, Ghost Catcher, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual acceptance (by Danny and by his loved ones). Sibling Bonding, Friendship, Danny finally gets a hug.

Note: Welcome to my Invisobang fic! This is a semi-sequel to my story "Nothing and Everything." It's set directly after that story, though assuming an alternative ending. It is not necessary to read the older story to understand this one. All you need to know is, it deals with the aftermath of Danny being overshadowed by one of the clone's in Kindred Spirits and the emotional impact of the experience.

All that being said, big thanks to my amazing artist @bibliophilea for the amazing comic, and for beta reading! Thanks to @welcome-tothe-mystery-shack  for your comments and feedback on this story. And finally, a huge thanks to my dearest sister @nervousdragonrebelpie for looking over chapters and listening to me ramble about this story for the past few months. I wouldn’t have been able to finish this without you.

Preview Below:

Chapter 1:

“No! I’m a person. People have names! I have to have a name. I’m not….” A sob tried to break free from his throat.

A knock suddenly rattled the door. “Danny!” Mom called.

Both boy’s heads popped up, focusing on the door. They turned to face each other. “Don’t do this.” The real Danny begged.

“What?” The being asked.

“Every time you get close to the truth, you dream up a distraction.” His eyes widened in desperate panic. “Please don’t-”

Danny’s eyes popped open, a dream swirling in his mind. His heart raced, the sheets sticking to his sweaty body. His brow wrinkled, one shaking hand moving up to rub his aching head. Aching…. He still had that damn headache.

The boy closed his eyes, trying to push the pain away, to coax his heart rate down. He breathed. In and out. In and out. Slowly, so slowly, the throb in his head dimmed, his heart calming. But still, anxiety ate up his insides. 

Blearily, the boy opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Dissatisfied, he groaned and rolled onto his side. He clenched and unclenched his fists, balling up the fabric on his bed. His bed. Yes, this was his bed…. Sleeping in a bed was so nice and comfortable but at the same time... something about it felt…. off.

The boy pinched his eyes closed, trying to make sense of the feeling. His stomach flopped. Something was off. Something was different. After today, after he’d come back from Vlad’s, after the man kidnapped him, after the man clo-

Danny cut off the cursed word, his mind refusing. He buried his face in his pillow. Vlad’s. Something had happened, something had.. had changed at Vlad’s but he couldn’t... quite... remember.

It flashed in images. Being locked in a pod. Electrocution. His own screams. Pain. A pain in his inmost being, in his core…. On the bed, Danny’s core throbbed at the thought… A tug back and forth. Then being squeezed. A crash, a collision. And then... blackness.

He’d passed out. Danny knew that much. And he’d woken up at some point later but everything between that and when he had arrived home was a blur.

Confusion. His head swimming. Danielle.. sister… frowning in worry. The hiss of the pod being released. A sigh of relief. An ectoblast. Twisted metal and glass. Ectoplasm. Ectoplasm on his hands, on the floor. Oh god, oh god. He hadn’t meant to do that. He wasn’t... the others weren’t supposed to…. weren't supposed to...

Vlad... Master... Vlad... glaring in pure hatred. “Get behind me.” His ears ringing with a scream. The older halfa being knocked into his shelves. His knees wobbling. He fell and turned human. (Human... why did the fact that he could do that make him so happy?) But then horror. Vlad was still up and moving.

Then Sam and Tucker crashed through, hitting the older man. Locking Vlad (Master) in a pod. He needs... he needs to find Danielle. He needs to find his baby sister. But she’s gone. She’s gone.

His friends’ worried faces. “Danny, you’re not making any sense.” “Hey! Hey! Stay with us!” He wobbled…. where was Danielle?..... falling forward….. Sam and Tucker caught him.

At some point later, he’d woken up on his bed with worried friends and sister who he couldn’t adequately comfort. His head had been pounding and he couldn’t remember what happened to him… and what he did remember made little sense. Sam had checked his eyes; he didn’t have a concussion or any other injuries. With his head throbbing, he’d dismissed the confusion as being from the stress of the kidnapping and electrocution. His friends believed him, though anxiety was plain on their faces. But after a few minutes, his friends had said their goodbyes, leaving him to get some much needed sleep.

But now, the night after, Danny laid on his bed. His headache was gone, his mind clearer. He should feel better yet... his heart was sinking like a stone in his chest. That dream. That dream. That was familiar. So familiar. Like it had really happened. Like... it meant something. And yet…. Danny yawned, sudden tiredness overtaking him. He closed his eyes.

Maybe this was the ramblings of a sleep deprived brain. Yeah, maybe he was just tired. Maybe he’d wake up in the morning and everything would be okay. The boy pulled his covers more tightly around himself and fell asleep.

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

The next morning, after quickly getting ready for school and rushing off, found Danny at his locker. The boy frowned, wracking his brain. What was his locker combination again? He spun the lock, landing on 25. That was the first number, right? Then….56. And finally….12? The lock clicked and he pulled the door open.

Danny sighed. Why was that so hard to remember? He’d had to open his locker just yesterday. He should remember… but why did that feel like a lifetime ago?

“Hey! Danny!” Tucker’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Danny gasped in surprise. In his chest, his core swelled and his body reflexively flickered invisible. A second later, he reappeared, rubbing his chest.

The next thing he knew, Sam was at his side. “What was that?”

“Yeah.” His technogeek friend took a step forward, voice quieting. “Your powers haven’t slipped up like that in months.”

Danny frowned, shaking his head. “I guess... I guess I’m still kinda shook up after….” He wrapped his arms around himself.

Sam’s face softened, seeming to understand. “Do you feel any better?” She asked kindly.

The halfa’s brow wrinkled. “Well, my headache’s gone.”

“You do look better.” The goth commented, her brow furrowing with worry. “You looked rough last night.”

“Yeah, you were really out of it too.” Tucker frowned. “You kept asking where someone called Danielle was? And for your sister?” Clear confusion rang out in his voice and just a hint of teasing…. “We kept telling you Jazz was at home, covering for us.” as if the idea that he was worried about his older sister, when she wasn’t even involved, was funny.

But something in the recollection made Danny shiver. He remembered worrying about Danielle. But…. sister... he hadn’t been talking about Jazz. He’d been asking about another girl, with blue eyes and-

“Then you passed out.” Sam continued. “And we took you home.”

For a too long moment, his friends looked at him questioningly. Finally, Danny bit his lip. “I think I remember that.”

The confirmation seemed to encourage his friends. “That’s good.” Said Tucker.

Danny wasn’t sure it was. But he had no more time to think on it before the bell rang and they were walking to their first class.

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

During lunch period, Danny sat down at their familiar table, the same one as yesterday and every day since the start of freshman year. He placed down his tray and looked over the tables, waiting for Sam and Tucker to join him.

The boy’s brow furrowed. The cafeteria looked the same as every day. The same as yesterday when…. Danielle phasing through the table, a tiny green speck racing passed him…. At the lunch table, Danny’s core pulsed anxiously. Yes, that had happened but at the same time…. Looking back at the two chasing him. Laughing without sound at their fun game.

Danny shivered, feeling cold. He rubbed his chest, nervously.

“Danny?” Someone was waving a hand in front of his face. “Danny? You with us man?”

The halfa blinked and turned, meeting Tucker’s eyes. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“What’s with the spaciness?” Sam said bluntly. She stabbed at her salad. “You were like that all during English too.”

“Was I?” The boy questioned. He shook his head. “Sorry. Just... thinking about stuff.”

His friends gave him worried looks but didn’t question him. Frankly, it was to Danny’s relief. He couldn’t seem to put his thoughts in order. He couldn’t explain this... weird feeling. 

The friends chatted for most of the lunch period, Sam and Tucker dominating the conversation with a debate about the newest Doomed update.

All the while Danny idly rubbed at his chest with one hand. He picked at his cheese fries. Normally they were pretty good, but he wasn’t feeling it today. He shivered again, flinching as his fork fell through his intangible hand.

“Again?” Tucker questioned with a raised brow.

Danny didn’t respond, instead picking up his fork only for his core to flare and the utensil to fall through his fingers again. With an annoyed grumble, the boy rubbed his chest again.

“Do you think something’s up with your powers?” Sam quietly asked.

The halfa looked up, frowning. “No... I mean…”

The goth pointed. “Danny, you keep rubbing your chest.”

Danny looked down, brow furrowing. Below his palm, his core pulsed. There was something… strange about the rhythm and…. he adjusted the position, pressing just the smallest bit harder. Normally, it fit comfortably under his palm but now... “It’s... bigger?” He muttered.

“What?” Tucker asked.

Danny lowered his hand. “My core?” He shook his head. “No... I’m imagining it.” His core pulsed unhappily, even as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

Sam and Tucker again looked like they wanted to argue, but the bell rang and they split up, each hurrying to their next class.

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

The rest of the school day was surprisingly normal. Just his typical classes, without even a ghost fight to interrupt his day. Danny should have felt relieved for such a chill day after what happened last night but yet…. The boy tapped his pencil on his desk. He felt anxious. He must still be shook up, like he told his friends this morning. 

Danny bit his lip, shaking the writing instrument in his hand again. It went flying out of his grip and clattered onto the floor. The boy huffed as he bent down to grab it. His hand hadn’t even turned intangible this time.

With that, the boy straightened in his seat. He glanced at the clock. 20 more minutes left in class. Just 20 minutes. Then he could go home and take a nap. He rubbed his eyes. He was still tired after getting back so late. Maybe some sleep would help him feel better.

Soon enough, the bell rang. Danny stood and walked to his locker. This time, he remembered the combination without wracking his brain. He pulled out his books and turned to his friends, who were collecting their own belongings.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Danny said.

“Yeah, see you later.” Tucker replied.

“Call us if something comes up with the ghosts.” Sam frowned. “I’m grounded but…. I’ll sneak out if you need me.”

The technogeek groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m grounded too.”

The halfa looked down guiltily. “Sorry.” He bit his lip. “You guys shouldn’t be grounded because you had to save my sorry butt.”

“It’s fine.” Sam comforted. “We weren’t not going to save you. We’re your friends.”

“Yeah.” Tucker agreed. “It’s just the price to pay for being superheroes.”

Danny half-smiled, though he didn’t much feel like it. He wasn’t much of a hero. Guilt still choked his heart. He hated getting his friends in trouble. But still…. “Thanks for having my back.”

“No problem.” Tucker confirmed.

Then down the hall, someone called his name. “Danny?”

The boy turned. It was his sister, Jazz. He frowned. Oh right, he hadn’t talked to her since he’d been half out of it last night.

The girl quickly approached. “There you are. Come on. I’m driving you home.”

Jazz didn’t give him a choice as she started leading him towards the entrance. Danny waved at his friends, watching their worried faces until he turned the corner. 

Less than two minutes later, the pair were seated in Jazz’s car. The girl didn’t start the vehicle, instead turning to face her brother. “Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?”

“I... Uh…” Danny stuttered, trying to collect his thoughts.

“You disappeared during the middle of school. Sam and Tucker said some weird ghost girl showed up. You went off to fight some ghost and the next thing they knew, Vlad was carrying you away.”

The boy crossed his arms. “It sounds like you already know what happened.” He muttered.

Jazz pinned a serious look. “I know Vlad kidnapped you but…. what did he do to you?”

Danny paled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Something happened. You were unconscious when Sam and Tucker got back. And you were super out of it when you woke up. But you weren’t physically hurt. What did Vlad do to you?” His sister pushed.

Danny swallowed, his stomach flopping. “I... I don’t…. It’s fuzzy….” 

Jazz rose a brow, her tone suggesting she knew there was more to it. “Danny.”

The boy flinched. “I... he... Vlad electrocuted me?” He remembered. Being locked in a pod, electricity running through him. The creepy hologram of his mom. But... but... there was more.

His sister paled. “Oh... I’m so sorry.” Her voice softened and she didn’t say anything for a while, then… “Do you know why he did that?”

Danny stiffened, looking up. The reason sparked in his mind, with the image. Vlad hissing in front of him, boasting his plan. The man had explained but…. the words stayed just out of reach. Danny's face set in a pointed frown. He shook his head.

Jazz’s own frown deepened. “That little girl…. Sam and Tucker said she looked just like you in ghost form. What does she have to do with all this?”

The boy avoided her eyes, heart fluttering nervously. The little girl.... her face snapped into focus in his mind. Danielle, that was her name. But... there was another word. Started with an S or…. a C. She was like him; she was a clo-

Danny shook his head. No, that wasn’t right. Well…. part of it was right. Danielle had been there. She’d been helping Vlad. She helped the man hurt him; painful betrayal stabbed at him from the thought. But at the same time…

“She helped me. She helped me fight Vlad.” The half ghost said quietly, awed realization sparking as he remembered.

“But… who was she?” Jazz asked, equally quietly.

Just like that, the boy paled again. The word, the cursed word, formed in his mind without his permission. Clone. She was a clone of…. him?... No... that didn’t sound right... he was the same as her but... it had to be true. His frown deepened.

“Who was she?” His older sister asked again.

The boy shivered. “I... I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Danny.” Her voice softened. “You can tell me. It’s-”

“I... I can’t... I don’t wanna talk about it.” He focused on his hands in his lap, trying to keep them from shaking.

“Clearly, whatever happened is bothering you. You can tell me.”

“No. I-” Danny bit his lip, reaching for the door. He couldn’t stay in here with her, couldn’t deal with the questions he had no answers for or rather... questions he couldn’t bear to answer. The… the c word... he couldn’t say it, could barely think it. How could he explain how everything felt wrong, like he wasn’t actually-

“Wait.” Jazz cut off his thoughts. “You don’t have to talk until you’re ready. Just... let me drive you home.”

The boy lowered his hand and slumped back in his seat. “You... you promise? You won’t press?”

His sister’s brow furrowed. Her face was tight, like she didn’t want to agree; but after a long moment, she sighed. “Alright. I promise.”

Danny nodded. “Let’s go then.”

Jazz turned the car on, put it into drive, and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove home in silence. Once they arrived, the boy went straight up to his room. He rubbed his head, flopping down onto his bed. He needed... he needed a nap. Yeah…. That was it. He was still tired.

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

Sister smiled down at him. “Look at this!” The black haired girl held up her crayon drawing. “This is me.” She pointed. “And Muscles. And Bones. And Daniel.” Her smile widened as she tapped at the last figure. “And this is you.”

The being tilted his head. He floated up, placing small hands on the green figure on the paper. He blinked owlishly up at the girl.

The corner of the girl's mouth turned down. She placed down the paper and offered him a crayon. “Come on. You try.”

The tiny being hovered forward, reaching out to touch the crayon. It was so big, almost half as tall as he was. He frowned, trying to understand.

“Make yourself a little bigger and you’ll be able to hold it.” She encouraged. “Come on. You can do it.”

The being scrunched his brow and he stretched. He was about the size of a toddler, maybe two and a half feet tall. He reached out, grabbing the crayon with his slightly larger hands.

“Great.” Sister said. She pushed a fresh piece of paper in front of him. “Now you draw. Like this.” She demonstrated, rubbing the crayon against the paper so color transferred onto it.

The being flopped down, sitting on the floor. Slowly, so slowly, he copied the girl. He traced his drawing instrument over the paper. He scribbled, creating a mess of lines and shapes without meaning or purpose.

Sister smiled proudly anyway. “You’re doing it. Good job, Tiny.”

He beamed, something in him sparking at the praise. He continued scribbling but the image changed into something more purposeful. A house took shape, stick figures. A large man and slimmer woman. A little girl and a little boy.

The little boy giggled at his drawing. His hands were chubbier than before. A toddler’s, instead of the miniaturized version of a teen’s. 

“Jazzy!” He looked up, showing off his drawing to the little redhead girl.

His older sister looked up. “That looks great, Danny!” She put her own crayons down, rubbing her sweaty forehead. “It’s so hot.”

The boy suddenly dropped his crayons and drawing. “Outside! Let’s go outside!”

“But it’s hot.” The girl repeated.

The boy was already running off. “Mommy! Mommy! Can we play in the sprinklers?! Please! Please!”

Mommy turned around from where she was making lunch. “After we eat, okay?”

“Okay!” The four year old beamed, already running up the stairs to get his swim trunks.

The next thing he knew, he was outside. Mommy set up the sprinkler. He and Jazzy ran around it, giggling. Daddy came outside with water balloons and Danny let out a happy scream. “Water balloons!”

The little boy grabbed one and threw it at his sister.

Danny blinked awake to bright light on his face. His nose wrinkled. It was still light out? Oh wait, he had been taking a nap. He sat up, yawning and rubbing his forehead. He’d been dreaming again, this time about…. He shivered, remembering. He’d been playing in the back yard with Jazz when he was four. And... he’d been with Danielle. She’d been showing him how to draw. 

The boy’s stomach flopped. That didn’t make sense. That hadn’t happened. Maybe... maybe he was thinking about her because Jazz had asked, earlier, when they’d been in the car but... that had felt like a memory.

Dread balled in his gut. He’d been small, smaller than her hand. And then he’d stretched and he was bigger, about the size of a toddler. Danny looked down at his hands, his human, properly sized hands. That, changing his size, wasn’t something he could do but…. In the dream, Danielle had called him Tiny. It didn’t make sense and yet….

He remembered. One of the other clones. The small green one. Danny shivered. That one, that one could shrink. That clone had overshadowed him.

The knowledge hit Danny like a ton of bricks. The tiny clone had overshadowed him. How... how didn’t he remember that until just now? How hadn’t he realized? Danny grimaced, a sickening feeling squeezing his insides. He’d been possessed. Someone else had been in his body, controlling his actions, messing with his mind. The boy wrapped his arms around himself. He felt violated at the thought. That was so wrong. Vlad had ordered one of his clones to overshadow him. And…. more memories of the experience pressed into his mind.

Danny had been semi-aware of the other presence. There had been a fight for control, another core so close to his and…. Memories, thoughts that weren’t his. Flashes of the tiny clone’s memories. And the feeling of tiny hands rifling through his own mind.

Danny pulled his knees to his chest. That must be why he’s felt so off. It was the aftereffects of being possessed. And that dream, the flashes of memory…. he must be remembering what he’d seen and felt from the tiny clone while it had been possessing him.

The boy sighed. But... the feeling would go away eventually, right? It would. He’d felt off after Sidney had overshadowed him as well. It had taken a bit to get used to being in his own body again. And Sidney was more experienced with overshadowing than his clone had been. The ghostly nerd knew how to push Danny’s spirit out of his body, instead of forcing both ghosts to cohabitate. That was why there were strange memories now, unlike last time.

But it didn’t matter. He’d get back to normal soon enough and his friends and sister would have nothing to worry about. Everything would be okay, right?

Danny stood up, rolling his shoulders to stretch. He had homework to do. He sat down at his desk, trying to ignore the way his stomach still flopped.