#or just deciding for myself whether it quote unquote Counts

[ispyspookymansion]

i cant answer the question “have you had gay sex” without consulting a council of dyke scientists and experts in the field

[albatris]

ok ok alriiiight ok so the plot of ATDAO

this post is not, like........... well, it’s not gonna be a blurb or a summary or a nice neat synopsis, this is not Professional Writeblr Business, this is, this is, uhhhh

this is like drunk house party logan rambles

works best if you imagine ur just like “hey man how’s it going” super casual and I grasp you firmly by the shoulders and look you dead in the eye and just ramble all of this without taking a single breath

could I have explained in a nice neat concise "elevator pitch" sort of way? probably. mind ur business. that’s not how we do things here at albatris.org

anyway the purpose of this post is “hey people seem to know a lot about the characters and the worldbuilding and the premise but have no clue what happens in the actual story” so I’m not going to be talking about said characters and worldbuilding and premise in depth

in terms of rambles, that stuff’s been covered! this post assumes you know what Ports are, n what the nature of the ATDAO apocalypse is, vaguely what the MCs are like as people......... though I can fetch this info for you if you like

but yeah if you are coming into this post with zero prior ATDAO knowledge........... deeply deeply from the bottom of my heart: sorry

also if this is your first time experiencing One Of These Rambles

also @safe-in-the-steep-cliffs​ and @siarven​ I am tagging you because you said you would like to be tagged and also hi and also I hope y’all knew what you were in for

anyway without further ado

(visual representation of my approach to this rant, not of how complicated my plot actually is)

(my plot is not that complicated)

ALRIGHT

there are two viewpoint characters! and two plotlines which converge near the end of the story, but honestly there’s a very real possibility I will decide these are two separate books meant as companion stories to each other because I love making things difficult for myself yeehaw

ATDAO’s co-protags are Tris and Noa, best buds four years and counting. their friendship is one of the single most important aspects of the story, n the ongoing love and trust they have for each other despite the way unfolding events force their relationship to change is integral to the themes and making the heart of the story what it is. I will now proceed to not mention this friendship for the entire remainder of this post. they’re bros. that’s all u need to know. listen. listen. I have a lot to cover

so yeah, ur first key player is Tris Greer, whose parents are dicks but whose siblings are chill. most notably of said siblings there is Jacob, older brother by thirteen years, whom Tris believes is just about the coolest person on the entire planet. this plotline kicks off when Jacob gets caught in the midst of a freak car accident that kills a dude and wrecks a street corner and also somehow causes Jacob to just kind of................. blip out of existence entirely and without a trace?

n Tris is understandably horrified and distressed by Very Much All Of This, but hey, at least there are responsible adults who can look into this obviously Port-related weird disappearance and figure this mess out, right?

INCORRECT

the relevant interdimensional authorities are brought in to suss out the situation and these authorities are kind of like “hmmmm idk about this” but are all set to take Tris at least somewhat seriously until they learn the following:

that Jacob had already been reported missing to police in his home state three days earlier

that Jacob was in the midst of several ongoing personal crises and at least one nervous breakdown

that Jacob was allegedly tangled up in some real weird shit that would more than account for a disappearance under suspicious circumstances

that Tris is schizophrenic, prone to hallucinations, confusion, memory issues and quote unquote “letting his imagination and anxiety get the better of him”, and precisely zero people can actually corroborate his story that Jacob was even there are the time of the accident to begin with

and after some back-and-forth and Looking Into The Evidence pretty much everyone in any position of authority comes to the conclusion that this is just Ordinary Regular People Crimes and whatever happened to Jacob had nothing to do with weird apocalyptic energies, and that Tris is (at best) stressed out and delusional or (at worst) lying through his teeth because he knows more than he’s letting on

so Tris is forced to hop pretty quick from “I’m sure someone will handle this” to “no one believes me but I’m sure if I can find some concrete proof they’ll listen and someone will handle it” to Well Fuck I Guess That Someone Is Me

cue bizarre reality-hopping fantasy quest, which is ten times easier said than done when most of the time Tris is terrified enough just, like, going to the supermarket

he enlists the help of his new classmate Shara, amateur paranormal investigator and professional weird-bullshit enthusiast, who agrees to help him puzzle out what the fuck happened to Jacob in exchange for his assistance in mapping out Adelaide’s interdimensional “fault lines” as part of her ongoing quest to track down the source of the apocalypse

she’s got big fuckin dreams, ok, go hard or go home

slso worth noting at this point that there HAS been an uptick in Ports and their related reality-bending strangeness in Adelaide recently which is why this is of particular interest to her currently. gotta find out What Makes The Weirdness Tick, gotta find out Why The Sudden Extra Weirdness

..........and also Kai is there

Kai has no nice neat reason to get involved with the plot, Kai just likes drama and being all up in people’s personal business. Tris brings them on board for one single afternoon like “hey I will pay you some money to come to my house and fix my fucked up phone so I can listen to an interdimensional voicemail” but forgot the apparently key addendum “and then leave”

their first three chapters of knowing each other is basically Tris being like “stop inviting yourself into my house we are not friends” and Kai being like “that’s a rude thing to say to your friend. also your sister gave me the netflix password and I used your kitchen to bake pastries feel free to help yourself”

but yeah so Tris’s story mostly focuses on his quest to figure out where Jacob got yeeted to and how to get him safely home (y’all probably know a bit about The Unreality already maybe?), whilst also dealing with rising family tensions, whatever shifty stuff Jacob was involved with prior to his disappearance, and his own creeping doubts about his perceptions of reality

n I’m also saying flat out it’s not a plot that’s going the “oh the whole thing was just a delusion all along” route because ew

his psychosis is a fairly involved part of his character but the explorations around it are more to do with, like......... the difficulties he has in trusting himself and whether he has the luxury of letting himself get swept into some Big Weird Implausible Adventure when this has extremely different implications for him than it would someone else. n eventually to how his success and survival is not ~in spite of~ but specifically because of the different way he understands and interprets the world and the skills he’s developed

THAT TANGENT WAS A PERSONAL RANT IT WAS NOT RELEVANT I just have words to say on the subject of how psychosis is treated in fiction and didn’t want people jumping to the “none of it is real” conclusion anyway ok moving on

ur SECOND key player is Noa Yun, who has rather a lot on her plate right now. she’s broke as fuck and her mum is sick and her car is making Noises and she’s not getting enough hours at her job at Not-IKEA and everyone is on her back about her failing studies as if that’s a thing she has the energy to care about. feeling rather backed into a corner by life’s bullshit and her financial situation, she blatantly lies her way into a field job at the Department of Interdimensional Instabilities, because A) surely it can’t be THAT bad, and B) what does she have to lose?

so more or less what she’s doing is the equivalent of emergency services for Port-related weirdness, it’s going out and dealing with highly unstable otherworldly energies head on, navigating Weird Phenomena and bendy patches in reality......... it is, among other things, a job that’s relatively easy to get into because no one wants to touch it with a ten foot pole unless they absolutely have to

n the DII is a whole other post, this shit has lots of different functions and levels and branches and corruption and secrets and a tendency to view workers who have to go out and deal with the brunt of the apocalypse head-on as vaguely expendable and I’ve talked about it a bit before and in more Serious Words

things kinda kick off for her when in true Noa fashion she hurls herself into a dangerous situation to help out a coworker, n enters a pretty standard issue “overlap” where the barriers between universes are a little fucky, but hey, she seems to come out of it with nary a scratch, so it’s reasonable to assume everything is fine, right?

INCORRECT AGAIN

she basically gets some whacked-out otherworldly energies latched onto her that are now following her through her everyday life, and it turns out she’s starting to bend the reality around her the way certain types of Ports do, which is! obviously not ideal! she’s not exactly a Port herself, because she’s pretty sure that’s impossible, but it’s clear capital s Something happened to her in that overlap, and she doubts it’s good news. and to make matters even more disconcerting, she’s now being dogged at every step by strange visions of a child who speaks in an unfamiliar language and who seems Real Fuckin Pissed at her

so her thing is basically “I acquired fucked up reality-bending powers against my will and they might be lowkey killing me ‘cause Ports are notoriously unstable like that and also I’m haunted for some godforsaken reason” which all somehow ended up being, like, the least interesting part of her plotline for me lmao

oh and Noa also enlists the help of Shara, Because Ghosts

anyway yeah so her search to find out what’s happening to her re: Weird Children, being a Port-adjacent something-or-other, and whether there’s a way to stop her own unravelling leads her to (rogue computer programmer? mad scientist? general shifty bastard?) Laurence Marrick Thiele, who claims to have suffered a similar affliction in the past and now does some real interesting research on the subject. n this guy. well. he’s got some fuckin stuff going on

he definitely knows more about the nature of Ports than he should. also is he actually researching what he says he’s researching? also what’s with all the weird tech? also did he just straight up murder that guy Avery? all will be revealed later, maybe, if I feel like it

but yeah at about the same time as Noa goes “actually fuck this you’re shady as hell I’m out” she stumbles into, like, The Actual Reality of what Marrick is up to re: manipulating Ports and interdimensional doorways for his own gain, and the various ways this spells bad news not only for her but potentially for the entire city and anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire, and she shifts gear to “actually you know what I’m gonna kick your ass”

there are various reasons for this, but first and foremosterly you have to understand that Noa’s got a fuckload of pent-up rage and she will bring it in full force the moment you say some stupid shit like “some people are expendable” or “it’s inevitable for the greater good”

(there’s also a fun ongoing subplot with her work at the DII where she and her team are investigating a string of strange illnesses with bizarre symptoms that appear to be spreading via obscure radio stations so that’s. happening. I guess?)

but yeah the main story here mostly follows Noa’s attempts to undermine Marrick, bastard supreme, and find a way to fuck him up before he goes, like, Full Cartoon Supervillain, n also like........... her attempts to keep up her work at the DII despite her rising paranoia that the teammates she’s growing to care about will notice her increasingly unstable state and the fact that she’s all tangled up with the very forces they’re meant to be thwarting. n along the way discovering the reality of what happened to her in The Aforementioned Overlap Incident and about her visions and such

so that’s all that. did that make sense

n she’s got a whole arc going on about trust and learning to lean on others, like, she comes into this story as a very standoffish person with lots of paranoia, she’s spent much of her life feeling like she can only rely on herself, n she’s. well. yeah, like I said, she’s got a lot of anger at the world and at the various systems that have failed her and her loved ones, n the story puts her in a position to become even more isolated

and her plotline isn’t so much “you have no reason to be angry or afraid” or her learning to Not Be, It’s more, like........... yeah you have every fucking right to be furious and of course you’re afraid! but there are people around you who love you and who will jump at the chance to defend you and who will help you carry the weight of your anger and grief and none of this needs to be yours to bear alone which is extremely cheesy

which applies to both her Weird Supernatural Goings-On as well as her regular ordinary life goings-on

I feel like Alice and Jet deserve a mention for Noa’s plotline but also this went on and on too long already so. well. Alice and Jet exist! yep. they work with Noa at the DII. I have things to say about them. I will not be saying them today

and uhhhhhh

in general, for Tris, his plotline, you wanna think, like, fantasy/adventure vibes which veer pretty sharply into horror, and for Noa you wanna think...... kinda, sci-fi mystery conspiracy vibes with a dash of some superhero bullshit maybe except not really

and that

pretty much is it I think

also the fact that Kai just invites themself into the plot for funsies and then is dragged kicking and screaming into caring about themself and making positive changes in their life means there was no convenient place in this post to be like

"oh there's also a whole major subplot about a time loop"

but there's also a whole major subplot about a time loop

goodnight! thanks for coming to....................... whatever this was! have a nice saturday everyone

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

stephanie perkins: ‘anna and the french kiss’

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Then again, if you’ve read any YA book, ever, it’s fairly obvious what’s going to happen.

I was going to go easy on this book; I really was. It’s really unfair how media aimed at a female demographic is seen as frivolous and vapid, and more often than not bashed and bullied when it comes to reviews. “People actually enjoy this crap?” ask the powers that be. “It’s worthless! Pulp! Dreamy-eyed nonsense only complete nimrods could ever like!”

And I take offense to that. There’s nothing wrong with liking romance or happy endings or stories about cute European boys. I was ecstatic when I stumbled across Anna and the French Kiss upon a chance trip to the bookstore. The cover was… meh (Century Gothic? Really? There were no other fonts?). But I’d heard nothing but praise about the book, and I was prepared to stay up all night and into the wee hours of the morning to finish it.

Admittedly, I was far from impressed upon the first reading. The characters were unlikable, the plot would’ve worked better for less shitty characters, honestly fuck these characters am I supposed to like them, fuck Anna, fuck Étienne, fuck Bridgette, fuck Toph, fuck Dave and Meredith and Amanda and Seany and every other stupid character in this stupid book.

The second time around, I expected to not hate it as much as I did when I first read it. It’s happened- I hated Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda when I first read it, and when I read it again, all that red-hot anger simmered down into an overall dislike. I thought To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before was trash at first, and then I read it again, and it got promoted to recyclable waste matter.

I found Anna and the French Kiss horrendous the first time I read it, and then I read it again, and… yeah, it’s still pretty awful.

Le Sommaire:

Anna Oliphant is a seventeen-year-old wannabe film critic who is #NotLikeOtherGirls – so she’s exactly like every other female YA lead. To her credit, she never explicitly says she’s special… everyone around her does.

She has a pretty meh life in Atlanta, Georgia with her mum and little bruv Sean- and then her dad decides to ship her off to France for her final year of high school. I’m not judging Anna for bawling her eyes out on her first day; I’m a huge mummy’s girl myself and I’d probably (definitely) do the same.

Meredith is Anna’s next-door neighbor, who does that thing which only happens in YA where she’s like “Oh, newbie? Let’s be friends!” (Or maybe it does happen irl and I tend to make a bad first impression which is why no one has ever approached me.)

Meredith’s friends are: Rashmi and Josh (who are a couple), and Étienne St. Clair. Guess which one is the love interest.

Étienne is cultured in that white person way where he’s half American, one quarter French and one quarter British. A true international.

But- *gasp*- American-British-French boy has a girlfriend, Ellie.

Anna has an absolutely gorgeous punk rocker (yum) boy with sideburns (yikes) back home named Christopher. Also, Christopher’s nickname is ‘Toph’ instead of ‘Chris’ because he too is #NotLikeOtherGirls. Anna tells us that nothing will happen between her and Étienne.

Anna is wrong.

Meredith has a crush on Étienne. So does the Regina George of the school, Amanda.

Étienne and Anna have some moments ™.

♫ Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but Anna ♫

I tear my hair out in frustration.

Several other white boys vie for Anna’s heart. Anna remains blissfully unaware (♫ that’s what makes you beautiful ♫). Étienne (who is still dating Ellie, mind you) is unreasonably agitated by this.

Étienne’s mum has cancer btw, which excuses all the shitty things he does, because he’s just a poor, misunderstood boy.

Ellie dresses up as a, quote unquote, ‘slutty nurse’ for Hallowe’en, though- so it’s perfectly okay to dislike her (even though, in the first interaction she had with Anna, where Ellie meets Anna and Étienne, after Étienne takes Anna to the movies, Ellie is perfectly sweet).

Anna, however, is NOT a slut. Amanda is, though. And Rashmi’s cold. And Meredith’s desperate. And Emily’s a slut, too. And her friend Bridgette from Atlanta is a traitor. Anna has an intense case of internalized misogyny.

Anna’s friend Bridgette from Atlanta is screwing Toph, and Anna throws a fit.

Étienne and Anna have some more moments ™.

A truly chaotic series of events befall Anna. She somehow winds up dating Dave (one from the harem of white boys who likes her) to spite Étienne, she gets into a fight with Amanda, more drama ensues, there’s a hint for a spinoff, Étienne and her kiss, Meredith sees and feels betrayed… several misunderstandings and more bullshit later, Étienne and Anna wind up together, because true love conquers all.

Mes Réflexions:

(If the French is off, blame Google Translate.)

Usually, it takes me half a page of my notebook to scribble down my thoughts about the book I’m reading. This motherfucker took me almost an entire page.

Granted, a solid 30% of those notes are me throwing insults at Étienne, but still. ‘STOP STOP STOP YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND YOU DICK’ counts, right?

(That was #17 in my notes, by the way.)

For the record, I like Stephanie Perkins’s writing. It’s not as over-the-top and unnecessarily introspective as Jenny Han’s in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and the interactions between Anna and her classmates were natural and not the “How do you do, fellow kids?” style of Becky Albertalli’s Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. The pacing is decent- I didn’t feel like it was too rushed; not the insta-love trope most YA romances unfortunately fall prey to.

And yet. AND YET.

Anna: “What’s your problem?” Amanda: “You.”

Same, Amanda, same.

Anna Oliphant is one of my least favorite leads in a book, ever. Étienne’s even shittier. And it’s not like Nick or Amy Dunne from Gone Girl, or any of the main characters from The Secret History, where readers pretty much unanimously hate them. You’re meant to relate to Anna, you’re meant to find Étienne charming and dreamy. I literally had to put the book away and calm myself down several times- especially in the last quarter of the book.

One of my main gripes with Anna is how… dumb she is. I guess Anna’s “Oopsies, silly me, I don’t know French!” is meant to be relatable to the readers. And some parts (like her not knowing how to order food because she can’t speak French) are plausible, but- sis, you didn’t know how to spell oui? And my idea of a cinematic masterpiece is Kung-Fu Panda, but even a dumbass like me knows that France is the film appreciation capital of the world. And yet Anna, a self-professed film freak, doesn’t?

Of course, Anna’s gorgeous, but she has no clue, because of course she doesn’t- even though she has multiple guys falling head over heels for her.

I’m in a short skirt. It’s the first time I’ve worn one here, but my birthday seems like the appropriate occasion. “Woo, Anna!” Rashmi fake-adjusts her glasses. “Why do you hide those things?”

Étienne is staring at my legs. The scales covering them throb under his intense gaze, and the pincers sticking out of my thighs start clicking rapidly in arousal. My hooves shiver in ecstasy.

… sorry, that’s not funny.

Her friends think Anna’s weird for wanting to write film reviews (which is the most contrived thing I’ve ever heard) instead of being the next Margot Robbie or whatever, but of course Étienne doesn’t and he thinks it’s not weird and cool and that Anna is such a special snowflake.

(Man, I sound like Amanda.)

And then we have this spiel by Anna about how she got into film critiquing (?), because we the readers need to know how special and #NotLikeOtherGirls Anna is.

To this, I say, “Piss off, you pretentious fuck.”

Of course, Anna’s a virgin and she’s never gotten drunk before or worn short skirts- she’s not a slut, she shaves below the knees only.

And would YA really be YA without several hearty helpings of internalized misogyny?

First up, we have the bimbo; the Barbie doll archetype whose only goal in life is acquiring the main guy (who is quite obviously uninterested in her), and making life hell for our protagonist. Amanda Whatsername (is she ever given a surname?) has this coveted role in Anna and the French Kiss. She’s blond (because of course she is); the first time we meet her, she’s in a, quote unquote, ‘teeny tank top’, and she also ‘positions herself for maximum cleavage exposure’. She’s always flipping her hair, getting her grubby paws on Étienne, giving Anna the stink-eye, being homophobic and a grade-A bitch.

Meredith goes batshit when Anna and Étienne kiss, and is very pouty and unhappy during prior Anna x Shittiene moments. Honey… he’s just not that into you. Rashmi’s the Ice Queen reincarnate and halfway to bitchdom. Anna doesn’t go as hard on them as she does on literally every other female her age in the book, though.

Rashmi looks at me for the first time, calculating whether or not I might fall in love with her own boyfriend.

Anna, hate to break it to you, but not everyone’s a possessive fucking weirdo.

About Cherrie, her ex-boyfriend Matt’s new girlfriend:

And maybe Cherrie isn’t as bad as I remember. Except she is. She totally is. After only five minutes in her company, I cannot fathom how Bridge stands sitting with her at lunch every day.

Her lifeless laugh is one of her lesser attributes. What does Matt see in her?

Even Bridgette, Anna’s best friend from Atlanta, isn’t immune to Anna’s anti-female propaganda. She’s screwing the guy Anna used to like, and Anna, the hypocrite, throws a huge fit.

For context: Bridgette and Toph are in a band called the Penny Dreadfuls (why is it with YA books and horrible band names? ‘Emoji’ from Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda was bad enough), and Anna + Matt + Cherrie go to a bowling alley to see them perform. After the performance, Toph announces that he’s sleeping with Bridge, and Anna confronts Bridge… onstage.

“… You’re welcome to move in when I leave again, because that’s what you want, right? My life?”

She shakes with fury. “Go to hell.”

“Take my life. You can have it. Just watch out for the part where my BEST FRIEND SCREWS ME OVER!” I knock over a cymbal stand, and the brass hits the stage with an earsplitting crash that reverberates through the bowling alley. Matt calls my name. Has he been calling it this entire time? He grabs my arm and leads me around the electrical cords and plugs and onto the floor and away, away, away.

Everyone in the bowling alley is staring at me.

I duck my head so my hair covers my face. I’m crying. This would have never happened if I hadn’t given Toph her number. All of those late-night practices and… he said they’ve had sex! What if they’ve had it at my house? Does he come over when she’s watching Seany? Do they go in the bedroom?

I’m going to be sick.

Give me a goddamn break.

Anna, about Ellie:

To my amazement, Ellie breaks into an ear-to-ear smile. Oddly enough, it’s this moment I realize that despite her husky voice and Parisian attire, she’s sort of… plain. But friendly-looking.

That still doesn’t mean I like her.

“Anna! From Atlanta, right? Where’d you guys go?”

She knows who I am? St. Clair describes our evening while I contemplate this strange development. Did he tell her about me? Or was it Meredith? I hope it was him, but even if it was, it’s not like he said anything she found threatening. She doesn’t seem alarmed that I’ve spent the last three hours in the company of her very attractive boyfriend. Alone.

[about Ellie’s Hallowe’en costume] Slutty nurse. I don’t believe it. Tiny white button-up dress, red crosses across the nipples. Cleavage city.

If I didn’t like Ellie before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now. It doesn’t matter that I can count how many times we’ve met on one hand.

I fantasize about their break-up. How he could hurt her, and she could hurt him, and all of the ways I could hurt her back. I want to grab her Parisian-styled hair and yank it so hard it rips from her skull. I want to sink my claws into her eyeballs and scrape.

It turns out I am not a nice person.

YOU DON’T FUCKING SAY.

Emily Middlestone bends over to pick up a dropped eraser, and Mike Reynard leers at her breasts. Gross. Too bad for him she’s interested in his best friend, Dave. The eraser drop was deliberate, but Dave is oblivious.

One of the juniors, a girl with dark hair and tight jeans, stretches in a move designed to show off her belly button ring to Paul/Pete. Oh, please.

And I’m meant to like this character? I’m supposed to root for her?

I’m not saying every girl in the book should be perfectly sweet and friendly- that’s just not realistic. But when Anna has something judgmental to say about every other young female character… maybe she’s the problem.

In fact, the only girl I recall getting a pass is Isla Whatsername. And why do you think?

Brilliant.

And now we have the amalgamation of almost every fanfic boyfriend trope from 2014, Étienne St. Clair. Brown-eyed Harry Styles. I can’t fucking wait.

Étienne could’ve discovered the cure for cancer, or abolished poverty, or volunteered at animal shelters in his spare time. He could’ve been the most virtuous guy around (fret not; he decidedly isn’t). And I still wouldn’t’ve thought of him as the man of my dreams because HE HAS A BLOODY GIRLFRIEND.

I mean, which girl doesn’t want her boyfriend to say:

“I cheated on her every day. In my mind, I thought of you in ways I shouldn’t have, again and again.”

Fuckin’ smooth, bro.

“No matter what a terrible boyfriend I was, I wouldn’t actually cheat on her. But I thought you’d know.”

Such a gentleman!

“So you can keep dating Ellie, but I can’t even talk to Dave?”

Étienne looks shamed. He stares at his boots. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t even know what to do with his apology.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. And this time, he’s looking at me. Begging me. “And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need more time. To sort things out.”

And this gem:

“If you liked me so much, why didn’t you break up with her?”

“I’ve been confused. I’ve been so stupid.”

*me, banging pots and pans together* F U C K Y O U

“Ellie’s not like you, Anna; she’s a slut and a whore even though I’m the one who’s been thinking about another girl inappropriately and I’m the one who gets my knickers in a twist when another man glances in your direction because my masculinity is extremely fragile and I’m a total hypocrite and a dickhead.”

I mean, he didn’t actually say that, but that’s the gist.

WHILE DATING ELLIE: he gets Anna a book of sexual love poems, he calls her attractive (“Any bloke with a working prick would be insane not to like you.”) multiple times, he gets jealous whenever another guy so much as breathes in Anna’s direction and constantly interrupts such interactions, he’s been ditching his friends for his girlfriend but suddenly decides he prefers a new girl over said girlfriend, he thinks bread pudding tastes good- in conclusion, he is a Massive Fucking Prick. Though in hindsight, him and Anna deserve each other. They’re awful.

I had loads more notes taken down (Anna using Dave; “The important thing is this: Dave is available. St. Clair is not.”); the implication that cheating is okay because Ellie is bad or whatever, even though the sudden change in her character seems contrived because she was perfectly okay with Étienne and Anna hanging out before; how my blood boils whenever I read an American book and American girls are like “oOoOh AcCenT!!!1!!1!!”; me reading “DAVE SAYS YER A SLUTBAG” in Hagrid’s voice; the sheer atrocity of the name ‘Étienne St. Clair’ (sounds like a caricature of a French person)… but this ‘review’ is already pushing 3k and I can’t be fucked to expand on any of those points.

Verdict (which is apparently the same in French):

Who needs Christopher when Étienne St. Clair is in the world?

Speak for yourself.

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 17 - "my hands"

Season 9, episode 3 "Final shot" (this is the one where the team has to catch a sniper: initially they thought the unsub was motivated by racism, and when they discover that the gun was the same used a few months before by "The General" - in prison, ex leader of a white supremacists group - to kill a black councilman - Adrian Clay - AND that in one of the shootings the assistant d.a. prosecuting him for that crime was killed; they decide to interview him. Re-interpretation of the scene where Morgan and JJ hold hands to make uncomfortable "The General" - racist son of a b*tch - during the interrogation... only there's Reid instead of JJ ;)

I believe @amplifreid and @smileythirteen asked me to tag them ❤️

Also, in my imaginary world, Morgan and Reid are a well established couple by season 9, but to illustrate this scene properly I think it was way better to assume they weren't a couple yet. Also with the same intent, the interview to "The General" (Adam Dawson) happens in an interrogation room with the one-way mirror glass and everything. Bear with the divergence from the actual scene - some of Dawson, Morgan and JJ's (=Reid) lines do remain pretty much the same, though

Read it on AO3

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

"Look at the change in his posture when Morgan got in..." Blake sighed, staring attentively at the interrogation room on the other side of the one-way glass. "Cocky. This guy's not gonna give us anything useful."

Rossi gave her an agreeing look, silently mimicking her head-shake while his hands slid in the pockets of his jeans.

"We'll have to work with that. Playing the black agent card is our best and only shot." Hotch replied.

"It's also very much obvious..." Blake added half-heartedly.

"He'll be too blinded by hate to even notice." Reid reassured her with a shrug, finally saying something after being glued to the glass for a few minutes with his arms folded on his chest, concentrated on the interrogation.

-

"Mr Dawson," Morgan greeted the convict with a fake polite tone, closing the door behind his back.

He sat in front of him and crossed his hands atop the metallic table. "Do you happen to have wondered why you're here?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

"I have a few guesses, yes." Dawson answered confidently.

Morgan tilted his head, while his brows shot up. He'd already picked up on what type of attitude the guy was planning to pull off on him for the whole duration of the interview. 

"Would you mind naming a couple of those for me?"

Dawson sighed, nodding his head. "I guess we're talking about my past involvement with the Southern Aryans."

"Past?"

"Past. Look, I even got my tattoos removed." he confirmed, not hesitating to show him the laser scar on the inside of his arm with a self-complacent grin, even if constricted in his movements by the cuffs chained to the table top.

Morgan couldn't bring himself to feign praising at the thought the guy once marked his skin with symbols and slogans to proudly remind himself and others that not only he was a racist son of a bitch, but more than that he also acted upon those retrograde and disgusting ideologies of his. So he just nodded, not even bothering to actually look at Dawson's arm.

-

Hotch's phone rang in his pocket, distracting him from the dynamic slowly - very slowly - unfolding in the other room.

"What is it Garcia?"

"My baby is in there with Dawson right?? Not that you aren't my baby too, sir- I MEAN you guys ALL are my babies regardless of our age gap-"

"Garcia." Aaron reprimanded her.

"Yes! I'm- I'm sorry, back to business: I managed to dig deep and dirty into every single detail about the murder of Adrian Clay, and in general every little, petty criminal activity this group of disgusting bigots have committed." she paused, gulping so noisily they could all hear it through the phone.

"They- they have engaged in a series of, quote unquote, 'harassments of any sort', in those areas of the city principally frequented by the lgbtq+ community through these past couple years. And- and Clay himself was rumored to be homosexual, but there's no reliable source for that." she explained in a rush, like she wanted to get it out of her brain as quickly as her breath allowed her to.

"...don't know about you, but I'm not all that surprised the shitheads are also homophobic. Those things don't sound like anything a group of neo-nazis wouldn't do, am I right?" Rossi snorted. "They'll target anything 'impure'." he air-quoted the word.

"Yes, that's what I had imagined too, I just- I just hoped I didn't have to get to the point of reading proof of it with my poor, pretty eyes! Like these guys weren't evil on earth already..."

"Garcia, is there a reason why you're telling us this?" Hotch furrowed his brows. They were running out of time, and Morgan was running out of questions aiming at making Dawson say what they wanted him to say.

"Actually sir, I hoped you'd ask because YES, there is a reason, and I know that this is not part of my job but I was thinking that maybe...you guys could use his homophobia at your advantage?" she kept it vague and stopped for a second to catch a reaction. Anything at all. But the others stayed silent to digest that idea.

"like, one of you boys could go in there and act a lil? Believe me I would sacrifice myself for that role, but you know-"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea at all. As Blake said earlier, Dawson was probably expecting us to use a black agent anyway, but this could actually set him off because it's a part of the group's criminal activity that's been hidden from the media and the general public. We're not supposed to even know about this." Reid spoke his mind out loud, receiving in response complete silence and three - well, four, if you count Garcia - pairs of eyes staring at him.

He stared back at them with his lips parted. "W-what? I'm right, right ?"

"You are." Blake simply said, raising a brow.

With a little delay compared to the others' - which NEVER happened - Spencer's mind started to process what that whole staring contest was supposed to mean.

"No- guys, I'm- I'm too young he won't- he'll never fall for it! If you take in account that I look way younger than I am, the age gap between me and Morgan is too wide, he's not a fool I can't-" he was starting to stutter and flush and almost hyperventilate to the point Hotch had to interrupt him.

"Reid. You know it has to be you." he gave him an apologetic look.

Reid wasn't trying to dodge the situation because he had a problem with fake flirting - he did not have a single problem with doing that. On the contrary: fake flirting for an interrogation or the like was the only way for Spencer to manage to pull off a flirty attitude with someone, covering it up with the fact that he was simply good at acting, since in actuality flirting wasn't exactly his first natural skill - it was Derek's. Problem was: he had to flirt with Derek Morgan, not someone.

On the other hand, Spencer also perfectly knew why it was their best shot to send him in instead of Hotch. Still, it was worth the try to dissuade him.

"You could do it, right?" he asked apprehensively, the tone of his voice lower and less certain than before.

Hotch knew he didn't need to explain it to him, so he didn't bother, keeping his gaze steady. Blake took on that duty for him, though:

"Spencer, you are exactly Dawson and his followers' stereotype of ideal human being. You're young, educated, intelligent, attractive, and more importantly: white." she paused, seeing that Reid had embarrassedly dropped his eyes when she mentioned him being attractive. Guess Morgan wasn't the only one labeling him as 'pretty boy' then.

"The only thing that parts you from being total perfection in his eyes, is your sexual orientation." she concluded.

"The minute we send you in, he'll think you're there to save him from an uncomfortable interview with a black agent. But when you'll start making avancés on Morgan, the guy will freak out." Rossi added, straight up.

Making avancés on Morgan. Dear God - Spencer knew he could do that with a minimum effort, and certainly without Derek making a big deal out of it; however the issue was: he would never get away with the physical reaction the avancés on Derek 's part would certainly trigger in his body, would he?

"THAT's what I meant!" Penelope's squealing voice filled the room all of a sudden, reminding them that she was still on speaker phone.

"Alright, thanks Garcia, that was a good catch." Hotch's firm facial expression never wavered an inch, even when he complimented her.

"Duty, sir."

"We can't call Morgan out, though. It has to be unexpected." he added, now only talking to his teammates in the room.

Without waiting for the others' agreeing - there was no need for that: he was right - Hotch pressed the button that allowed him to talk into Morgan's earpiece.

-

"Morgan. Guy's not only racist, but also homophobic. We're sending Reid in."

Morgan swallowed, trying not to make Dawson notice that he received an unspoken command he wasn't quite sure whether he'd be ready to obey, nor handle - emotionally AND physically.

When the door opened a second after, though, and he glanced over his shoulder at his tall, lean colleague standing behind him, waiting for permission to come in, Derek figured it shouldn't be all that hard to flirt with that.

"Pretty boy! Have a seat, we're having fun here." he gave Spencer his brightest grin, hand gesturing at him to come closer.

The younger agent smiled awkwardly and closed the door, making his way to the chair only 5 inches beside Derek's - who, by the way, was overly aware that their knees would inevitably touch if he didn't pay attention to keeping his legs glued together.

As Spencer got comfortable in his seat, keeping eye contact with him and subtly brushing his tongue in between his pink lips, Derek wondered if that was gonna come naturally to Spencer as it surely was to him. From the look on his face and his body language, Derek was leaning toward yes as an answer to that question.

"Mr Dawson is sick and tired of me." Derek scoffed, leaning back in his chair to stretch an arm on the backrest of Spencer's. "Guessing you came here with a few questions of your own?" he asked him.

"I did." Spencer replied, squinting at Dawson with an inquisitive look. "Mr Dawson, by any chance you've kept in contact with the other members of the Southern Aryans' group?"

"Agent-"

"Doctor." Derek pointed out dryly. "Doctor Spencer Reid." the way he pronounced his name caused Spencer to shift in his seat. Morgan wasn't quite sure why.

"Doctor, then." Dawson snorted, eyebrows raised in surprise as to why the older agent cared that much about specifying the other's title. "As I was saying: I'm in prison. My opportunities to socialize are...somewhat limited." he replied sarcastically. Which was how he'd been doing it at every single question Derek had asked.

The fact that he was managing to keep that cocky attitude was a sign that he wasn't uncomfortable enough. Everyone had imagined he would've got all jittery the second the nickname "pretty boy" would've come out of Morgan's mouth. Apparently so, Derek had to step up his game.

"Spencer, baby," Derek called him so he'd lean back in his chair as well, drawing his face farther away from "The General" and from under the blinding neon light beam illuminating the area of the table.

-

Reid leaned back as Morgan had implicitly asked him to, crossing his arms on his chest. Spencer, baby. The instinctive part of his brain didn't hesitate a second to recognize the combination of pet name + uncommon use of his first name, associated with Derek's deep voice. Probably because he'd imagined his colleague calling him that a thousand times, along with other names - some less appropriate than others - he couldn't keep his mind from drifting to when he heard that voice of his. The other part of his grey matter though, the logical, predominant one, the one used to Morgan only calling him by his last name or "pretty boy" and "kid" at most; sent a tingling sensation from the canal of his ear where the words reached him, all the way down to his arms and hands.

Spencer kept his gaze on the convict sitting across from them, as he realized Derek had inched dangerously closer to his ear. Dawson shifted nervously in his seat, jerking his eyes away from the two of them.

"You think we should kiss at some point? " the man asked mockingly at last, whispering and with a hand half-covering the motions of his mouth: he was acting like he didn't want Dawson to be able to hear, or read his labial - which, on the contrary, was exactly his plan.

Spencer froze. He tried to keep his look on Dawson unchanged. What he could NOT control, though, was the sensation of heat spreading up his neck, 3 inches from Derek's mouth. Dawson, too, was very noticeably trying to contain his sickened reaction, which turned out to be a mere close-eyed sigh and an irritated clench of jaw.

Reid pulled off the most natural chuckle he could, before answering out loud.

"I don't think it'll be necessary." it was true: Derek had asked only as a joke, and Spencer understood that. But he kinda wished in that moment it were appropriate for him to reply "yes, please, tongue me down during an interrogation."

Derek leaned forward again, finally removing his eyes from that spot of Spencer's jawline below his ear that moved as he spoke.

"Anyway. That's not what we heard." he said, pointing at him and Reid with his finger. "Rumor has it that you're in charge. In fact, you're still known as 'The General'."

"Some folks would like to, uh, imbue me with a great deal of power. But it's a mantle I choose not to accept." The General answered, his voice less arrogant than before and maybe even ever-so-slightly hoarse.

"So you COULD call the shots, you just... choose not to...?" Reid asked, unconvinced and a bit concerned about what kind of annoyingly fake-innocent answer the guy would give this time.

"That's what I said. How can I lead when I no longer believe, 'pretty boy' ?" Dawson replied, back at it with his smug tone, air-quoting the nickname.

Spencer had the abrupt - albeit fictitious - feeling that someone was knotting his guts with their bare hands, when he heard the man pronouncing those two words. Sacred, two words, only reserved to Morgan.

"Doctor Spencer Reid, is my name. Thought you were smart enough to understand it the first time." he said ice cold, leaning forward, knuckles white from crossing his hands too tightly over the table top.

"You're not allowed to call him that." Morgan stated, his black eyes piercing through the man in front of them.

"With all due respect, that's what you called him earlier, agent Morgan."

"With all due respect, Spencer is MY boyfriend, not yours." Derek bit back.

The lack of hesitation in pronouncing the words 'Spencer is my boyfriend' and how good they sounded coming out of Morgan's lips, along with the way he untangled Reid's hands to take one of them in his, warmly and comfortingly intertwining their fingers to loosen the tension in his phalanges - all of it, made Spencer's heart speed up, and his lungs hitch as he breathed, and his mouth water, realizing now more than ever how much he actually wished all of that could be real.

-

"Although I bet you wish he was your boyfriend, don't you?" Morgan added, teasing Dawson even more. The man snorted, but his body language was telling them that he was struggling to keep an unbothered attitude.

"Is that why you killed Adrian Clay? Because he was black and probably had a boyfriend, just like agent Morgan here?" Spencer asked.

Derek looked at him with his brows raised, pleased at how well he was keeping up with his game. Though, that sensation managed to ease only partially the slight but sudden feeling of discomfort that hit in his chest, at the news that the councilman that was killed was black AND gay, just like...him? Was he bisexual? The things flashing in Morgan's mind in reaction to the proximity with Reid's body, and that feeling of having his hand melting in his - the feeling that holding Spencer's hand was right - were making Derek doubt even more his already unclear understanding of his own sexual orientation. Doctor Spencer Reid was making him doubt once again his sexual orientation.

Clenching his hands in tight fists, Dawson made an effort to visibly swallow the expectedly offensive comments he bore on the matter - Derek found himself mentally thanking him for that - and shifted his eyes toward the wall at his left, too disgusted by him and Spencer to keep looking at them any longer.

As soon as he did that, Morgan felt Reid's hand slipping out of his, much to his silent disapproval.

"Alright Derek we- we're wasting our time here." Spencer mumbled, turning his back on Derek with his eyes low and placing a palm on the table top, about to stand up from the chair.

Derek had the impression that Spencer's reaction was somewhat genuine, that he really was starting to get triggered by The General's attitude - righteously. But, as selfish as he knew it sounded, he didn't want Reid to leave his side. His hand. Him.

Before he could effectively get up, Morgan wrapped his hand around that spot on Reid's arm, the crook where his forearm met his bicep, a couple inches below his shirt rolled up sleeve; that spot where his exposed skin was sensitive enough that those curling fingers sprung tickling chills everywhere, intense to the point of Spencer freezing in place and turning his head to give Derek worried puppy eyes and sweet, slightly pouty lips that Goddammit can I just KISS them off his face?

"C'mon baby, I just have a few more questions" Derek settled to say, softly, trying to recover from that fucking look of his.

"No seriously, can- can we just g-"

"Hey, hey, hold tight. We haven't even got to the point yet. It'll only take a second and then we don't have to see this son of a bitch's face anymore alright? Promise." Morgan reassured him; pitch black irises staring straight into hazel brown ones.

Spencer sighed and nodded, as Derek loosened the grip. He leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms, annoyed but ready to listen to more of the man's crap.

Dawson snorted. "You must have quite the nerve to come in here and insult me, tell me I'm a racist and a homophobic-"

"Nobody said either of those things, Mr Dawson." Derek tilted his head. "We asked, and you didn't answer. Not verbally anyway. Seems to me that now you are the one saying those words, uh?"

"What do you know about today's events?" Reid cut it short, not even willing to wait for Dawson's reaction at Morgan's insinuation.

"Today's events?"

"You must have heard about the shootings." Derek specified, carelessly leaning on the backrest, and decided it was the moment to do what he had planned on doing since Spencer entered the room.

-

Reid had his eyes fixated on Dawson, to catch every single twitch of his facial muscles, or minute movement of his body.

Suddenly he felt a hot, broad hand wrapping around his inner thigh. He sincerely hoped the only physical reaction to that were his toes curling up inside his shoes, or at worst how his breath got stuck in his throat for a second, and nothing visible on the outside - because on the inside, he could feel his whole abdomen heat up at a concerning rate.

When the man's hand started stroking back and forth, each time his palm went upwards it seemed to Spencer that it was getting closer and closer to that part of his body he wished so bad Derek wasn't aiming for - at least not in that context. Spencer tightened the grip of his hands bracing his arms, thanking God that shirts were made of cotton and not paper that would start flaking off under the squeezing pressure of sweaty fingers.

He couldn't allow himself to take his eyes off Dawson, especially now that he'd seen Morgan's hand on Reid's thigh and had immediately stiffened up; his temples glimmering with sweat under the neon light.

Dawson gulped nervously and looked away from the whole rubbing of skin on fabric, bringing his gaze back to Morgan's smirking face. "Enlighten me."

"The assistant d.a. prosecuting you for the murder of Adrian Clay was killed." Reid condensed the explanation, realizing that if he wanted to look natural he had to say something. He admittedly did a pretty good job at keeping his voice steady, considering Morgan's hand seemed having no intention to find rest any time soon.

A confused scowl crinkled the convict's face.

"Did you order that hit?" Derek asked. To be fair, both him and Spencer were almost 100% sure by then that the guy had no idea what they were talking about.

"I had nothing to do with it." Dawson asserted without hesitation, his voice deep and unfazed.

By that point, Spencer had relaxed into the other's touch, and he didn't know whether it was supposed to be a good sign or not. He didn't know whether the fact that he melted like jelly under Morgan's hands, even being usually uncomfortable with touching in general, was a good sign because it meant that he felt safe within their friendship and trustful of him; or it was a bad sign because it meant that his body was designed to be touched like that by his colleague and him only. He didn't know whether it was good that if he thought of anyone else - his former crush JJ, for instance - touching him in a way that wasn't finalized to be emotionally comforting, he would picture it as uneasy regardless, be it 30 seconds or 30 minutes long; whereas he was almost certain that that very same kind of touch applied upon his body by Morgan's hands would be in equal parts electrifying and soothing each time, all the time.

He wasn't supposed to try and understand any of it, though. Nobody was asking that of him - Derek wasn't asking and would never ask that of him. There was no need for Spencer to spend hours analyzing how that kind of approach would affect him. Because it was an unrealistic scenario that didn't belong in his future, anyway.

A growing wave of self-consciousness and realism woke Reid up from that thought. All of a sudden he realized he couldn't bear staying there any longer than a couple minutes at best. Hence, he speeded things up.

-

"You had nothing to do with it?" Spencer's calm voice echoed in the room that had been silent for a while. Dawson didn't repeat himself.

Derek was ready to throw in the towel - he was frustrated that the case wouldn't come to a solution as easy and logical as a white supremacist targeting the assistant d.a. prosecuting him, but on the other hand he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed spending time touching Spencer without the commitment of having to admit he would've wanted to do it regardless of the interview.

With the corner of his eye he saw Spencer finally untangling his arms and stretching one of them toward him. He didn't have the time to take a mental guess on what he was planning to do, that he felt his feather-like fingers slightly brushing against his nape.

Derek's palm stopped moving on the other's thigh, immobilized, the moment Spencer's cotton-hand spread to cup the back of his neck; a lukewarm and soft sensation growing on the very surface of his skin as well as deep inside his chest - nothing short of a cheesy metaphor, if you will, of how Spencer's touch had the power of rocking up both his emotions AND his body.

When Spencer's thumb started tracing slow circles on the side of his neck, Derek found himself imperceptibly tilting his head back to sink into his touch; trying not to put pressure or, way worse, squeeze the other man's thigh, who might've taken it as a cue that Morgan was enjoying what he was doing. He most certainly was, by the way.

"And that would be, because you're not racist or homophobic anymore?" Spencer ultimately asked.

God, he was smarter than he gave himself credit for when it came to pushing all the bad guys' buttons. And they couldn't even get mad, with that face that he had. At least, Derek knew he could never - best case scenario, he would limit to sprinkling said face with kisse- ahem, what?

-

"I'm done talking to you." Dawson claimed, having pulled himself together enough to bring back almost entirely that confident attitude he had when Morgan first got in.

"Oh, we are too." Morgan said arching his brows. He stood up on his feet, regretting detaching from Reid's contact immediately after.

"Mr Dawson, I can't tell you how impressed i am with you!" he added dry-wittingly.

Derek leaned forward over the table and grabbed the man's hands in his own, cuffed to the cold, metallic surface. He kept his eyes no more than 7 inches from his, making sure he couldn't escape them.

"So I'd like to shake your hand, and congratulate you for making such a positive change in your life." he said, his voice low and thorough, resonating in The General's ears.

Dawson lost his cool and instinctively tried to snatch his hands away from Morgan's grip, soon realizing it wasn't his grip he couldn't escape, rather the one obliged by the chained handcuffs.

"I'd be really careful." Morgan advised, a stabbing glare in his eyes.

"Because somebody might think you still believe."

Clearly, Derek had long lost any interest in keeping the boyfriend-play going: he looked furious and quite nauseous - and it was his God-given right to feel as such. Nonetheless, that was nothing but the millionth proof that Spencer had no reason to fantasize about their relationship becoming something more, someday.

Morgan stormed out of the room. Reid followed a few seconds after, which he'd spent shooting Dawson one last glance - not nearly as threatening and blood-freezing as his colleague's, but still.

-

When they got on the other side of the glass, Reid felt all eyes on them - especially on him, for some reason. It was like someone slapped him back into reality.

"Sorry guys, I- I kinda snapped." Morgan finally spoke up, a hand on his hip and the other rubbing his face.

"Don't. It was very much understandable." Blake reassured him, waving a hand and shaking her head.

"Well, what can I say?" Rossi changed the topic. "Great job in there." he added with a hint of smirk, arching a brow and shifting his gaze from Spencer to Derek and viceversa several times.

"Pretty boy here did all the work." Derek's tone was lighter now, as he pointed at pretty boy.

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek, unable to even say a due "thank you" - it would've come off as pathetic in that moment, to say the least.

"It- it was kinda useless, though...he had no idea what we were talking about." he said instead, sighing disappointedly and crossing his arms on his chest.

"He didn't even explicitly confess anything about his past crimes that we brought up. We literally only managed to confirm that he's a racist, homophobic piece of shit." Derek scoffed.

"We didn't need to put up a show for that though, did we?" he concluded, as his previous frustration arose again; seconds before splitting his way through his standing teammates to get out of the room.

They followed him with their eyes, and once the door was closed - slammed, almost - behind him, they got back to looking at Reid, who was frowning deeply.

After a long silence, Rossi nodded his head toward the door, like he was giving him permission to go and talk to Morgan.

Reid sighed and followed Morgan's previous steps, trying to hide how his words and tone from earlier had someway offended him. Judging by his demeanor and his glances in the interrogation room, Spencer could've sworn Derek seemed to have almost enjoyed it - he didn't care that it was probably more of a mocking kind of enjoyment, rather than a genuine 'I enjoyed touching you'. It was still something. And, at the end of the day, Derek Morgan had rubbed a hand on his thigh 2 inches from his groin, for Christ's sake, how dare he keep complaining?

He was startled awake from his paranoia by Hotch's hand, placed on his shoulder the second Spencer had grabbed the door handle.

"I hope I didn't push you too much. I'm sorry if I did."

Spencer shook his head. "Not me. I don't know about Morgan, though."

-

"Hey" a soft voice awakened Morgan from his thoughts.

He stopped pacing up and down the hallway and raised his eyes from the floor. He truly wasn't expecting Reid to follow him.

"H- hey, kid."

"Everything alright?"

No. Nothing was alright. From how wrong and dirty Dawson's behavior made him feel, to how right he found himself unwillingly thinking the contact with Spencer's body was: NOTHING was alright.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." he answered anyway.

Spencer nodded, unconvinced. And this time it wasn't because of his capability to read his colleague and best friend like an open book, rather simply because Derek didn't know how to hide his discomfort anymore.

Reid made a few steps forward, supposedly to make the conversation more intimate - though nobody was really around, so that left the other a bit confused. Plus, boy was definitely too close now, if it was Derek's to say.

"Look, I- I'm sorry it had to be me, I tried to convince Hotch to do it at my place but- but he said that I was more suited to be-" Spencer almost hiccuped. "...for the role, because I'm younger and-"

"Hey, hey, it's alright, it's not you." Derek interrupted him, placing a hand on his shoulder, seeing that he was starting to get flustered and even guilty on some measure. He also noticed how he avoided the word 'boyfriend'. He wasn't sure what to think of that, though.

"It's him. How he looked at us- at ME. I just- I don't know, I just can't believe some people out there really think it's not normal to be gay or black or both, that's all." Derek paused. "as if one could help it, right?" he snorted.

Spencer raised his eyes from the floor. "Yeah. I get that." he murmured.

Derek chuckled a little as a thought popped into his head, taking his hand off of Spencer's shoulder and shoving it back in his pocket.

"Honestly I don't know if I could've done it with Hotch. He's my superior, it would've been...weird, lemme tell you."

Reid giggled and...blushed a little? At least that's what it seemed. Morgan didn't take it well, though: he thought he'd made him uncomfortable.

"I mean," he swallowed sheepishly. "I mean, I hope I didn't...mess you up. I know you're not comfortable with touching."

-

Mess him up. That was cute. Derek Morgan had "messed him up" the second he had introduced himself to Spencer on his first day at the BAU. The guy had never known Spencer as not messed up.

"W- what?? No, no absolutely not, it was part of the thing. We- you had to...touch me. Wouldn't have worked otherwise." Spencer replied, furrowing his brows and shaking his head vigorously.

Silence.

"I have to ask you this..." Morgan said, regaining his usual teasing attitude. Reid wasn't sure if he was supposed to be relieved, because it meant the man had relaxed a little; or if he should start worrying about what that attitude would imply. Probably the second.

"Ask what?" Spencer hoped his heart couldn't be heard as loudly from outside as it was inside his ears.

"Was it all...acting?" Derek paused, and Spencer faked a confused expression, because before answering he had to be sure he meant what he thought he meant.

"...cause it looked very natural, if you ask me." Yeah, he did mean what Spencer thought he meant.

Morgan looked around quickly and came even closer. He non-chalantly took Reid's tie in his hands and straightened it - earning a gasp from him - biting his bottom lip like he was really concentrated on the task - which he wasn't. He didn't give a shit if his tie was ok, he was clearly doing it to make Reid's blood pulse out of his veins.

"Was it? Natural?" he repeated, almost murmuring at that point.

Spencer didn't know what to answer: he had stopped the train of thought that would've eventually led to a proper answer to that question when he was in the interrogation room, and he had suddenly realized that Derek would never ask such a thing of him. And there he was: asking it to him.

"I guess, kinda...? I- I'm not sure-" he finally replied, his chin tilted down to follow with his eyes what the man's hands were carefully doing with his tie, taking advantage in the fact that Derek couldn't look at his face in order to do that.

He couldn't stop his mind from drifting to that imaginary place where Morgan's hands would most definitely not stick to adjusting his tie; that place where he was allowed to wonder that if the man was so good at adjusting ties, then what else could those nimble fingers do.

As if that weren't enough already, Derek ran his tongue in between his lips, before speaking up.

"Me neither."

Suddenly, he raised his eyes to look at something that was happening behind Reid's shoulder. He coughed and nodded in that direction, forcing himself to take his hands off Spencer.

Reid turned around and saw it: Hotch, Blake and Rossi were walking their way toward them; luckily chatting instead of looking at Morgan "adjusting his tie" or whatever.

-

"And did you mind? My hands, I mean." Derek whispered in his ear from behind him, making him wince at how those words flowed smoothly in a hot, steamy wave over his neck.

Spencer didn't turn around, nor look at him with the corner of his eye - which he could've easily done. He concentrated on staring forward at their teammates approaching closer, rather than on the inviting heat radiating from the man only a few inches behind him.

"...n- not- not really..." he muttered, not sure what kind of nerve pushed him to give Morgan even the slightest hint that he could've enjoyed it, instead of denying adamantly.

Another breathy, humid whisper tickled his ear.

"Me neither."

[idiot-cheesehead-archenemy]

Resistance

My truce gift for @kinglazrus! They asked for Electric Core AU and Clockwork Teaching/Training Danny, which seemed to go together pretty well so I used both. (They also asked for Danny in College but I have no idea what being in an American college is like so … he’s in high school.) Hope you enjoy!

CW for transphobic bullying

Summary: 

Danny struggles to control his new electricity powers, among other things.

Word count: 9069

Also on AO3

Danny took a deep breath and raised his hand. Slowly, he reached forward, his entire body tense. He knew what was going to happen, but he tried nevertheless to hold on. Inch by inch his hand grew closer to the object in front of him. He wasn’t breathing now. Finally, he made contact, a single fingertip touching the cold metal. All at once he felt the rush of energy leaving his body, and he swore loudly. 

“This isn’t working,” Danny said, turning back to Clockwork. 

“You knew this would take time, Danny. Don’t give up yet.”

“I’m not giving up, I’m just being realistic. Whatever I’m doing, it’s not working. We’re just wasting …” Danny remembered where he was and shook his head. “Whatever, you know what I mean.” 

“I know this is frustrating for you, but if you keep practicing, I’m sure you’ll -”

“Stop saying that!” For a second, Danny’s entire body was alive with energy. The brightness of the glow and the loudness of the buzzing, whining tone were unpleasant, but those sensations paled in comparison to the fire that raced through his veins and over his skin. As soon as he realized what was happening, Danny’s eyes widened, and he placed his hand on the metal pole beside him to discharge the energy. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I didn’t mean -”

“It’s alright.” Clockwork hadn’t reacted in the slightest, of course. It would take a lot to phase someone who could see the whole of time. Danny sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

“It’s just that I don’t think the problem is that I’m not trying hard enough. I think I’m just trying to do the impossible by changing the way electricity behaves. I’m fighting against the laws of physics, here.” Clockwork raised an eyebrow but made no comment. Danny rolled his eyes. “Ok, yes, I know ghosts have a … looser relationship with physics in general, but, evidently, electrons still flow from negatively charged substances -” he gestured at himself “- to positively charged ones -” he gestured to the metal pole. “And I can’t change that. It’s not like my ecto-energy where I can control what it does.” 

“No, the electricity isn’t like your ecto-energy,” Clockwork said, “it is your ecto-energy. It is one of the forms your energy can take.” 

“But it’s not ecto-energy, right? It’s electricity. As in, moving electrons. I can’t control electrons.” 

“No? Why not?”

“Because … I don’t know. I just can’t.”

“You have an electricity core, Danny. Controlling electrons is precisely what your core allows you to do.”

“If that’s true, then why doesn’t the electricity do what I want?” 

“It does.” Clockwork saw that Danny was about to object and raised a hand. “Or, at least, it does what you expect it to do. It’s following instructions that you’ve subconsciously given it. You need to acknowledge that you have control so that you can consciously issue different commands.” Danny huffed.  

“Listen, Clockwork, it’s not that I don’t believe you. You are, by all accounts, the expert here. But, I don’t know, maybe there’s something wrong with me. I’ve been trying, and I’m telling you that I can’t control this.”

“You already do.” Clockwork gestured toward Danny, who looked down at himself and saw that his hairs were standing on end. Of course they were, because he was getting upset again, which meant his body was building up a charge again. He wondered idly whether he took on a negative charge with negative emotions and a positive charge with positive emotions. Probably not, he decided. Somehow he suspected that it was always negative. 

“Ok, so I can, what, summon electricity? Or turn my ecto-energy into electricity? I don’t know what this proves.”

Clockwork sighed. “No, I suppose you don’t. I think we can call it for today. Please think about what I’ve said. Once you accept that you are in control, everything will be so much easier. But you have to truly believe it.” 

“You sound like a fortune cookie. Are you still talking about my powers or is this just general life advice?” Danny was being sarcastic, but Clockwork just smiled warmly and said,

“Perhaps it’s both.” 

***

Danny wasn’t listening to the teacher. He had been earlier, he was pretty sure. She’d been talking about Ulysses S. Grant, but then he’d tried to remember where he’d heard the name Ulysses before. He thought it was someone in Greek mythology, but, no, that was Odysseus. Was Ulysses short for Odysseus? Did ancient Greek people even have nicknames? Then he’d realized that he wasn’t paying attention so he tried to pay attention again, but now he was just thinking about how he hadn’t been paying attention and he’d probably missed something important and this kept happening and he wasn’t sure why because he’d been getting more sleep lately because the local ghost activity was way down and he didn’t feel like he needed to be out patrolling every night and he kind of wondered whether Clockwork had anything to do with that but he didn’t dare say anything because if Clockwork was somehow responsible then he was definitely breaking some rules and it was probably best to keep quiet about it just in case and if he wasn’t responsible then he would probably be offended by the implication so it was best not to say anything regardless and Danny still wasn’t paying attention so he tried to focus on what the teacher was saying but for some reason the words just slid past him and it almost seemed like the harder he tried to focus the less it worked because he was just thinking about whether or not he was paying attention and noticing that he wasn’t and then thinking about how important it was that he pay attention because he knew he wasn’t going to go over this again outside of class and even if he did it would be more difficult to learn from a book than from the teacher so this was the best time to learn the material which he could only do if he stopped tuning out and thinking about other things which really shouldn’t be that hard. 

Science was easier. They all went to a computer lab and spent the period playing what could generously be called a game. It involved breaking apart molecules and building new ones to mimic what happened during chemical reactions. It wasn’t the most interesting stuff, but it didn’t demand too much mental exertion, and when he made a mistake he just got a message telling him to try again. Plus, the teacher couldn’t watch the whole class at once, which gave him the opportunity to check the local news for potential ghost activity. He didn’t expect any, and there wasn’t any, as far as he could tell, but it never hurt to be too aware. Well, it probably did, but he wasn’t worried about it, anyway. While Danny was looking at the news, another student got sent to the principal’s office for going to a website that should really have been blocked on the school internet. Danny went back to building molecules until the bell rang for lunch. 

Danny bought some quote-meatloaf-unquote and a soda and went to his usual spot. Sam was already there, eating a vegetarian dish she’d brought from home with her own biodegradable cutlery. He smiled when he sat down and asked Sam how she was. Pretty good, apparently; she was getting a think piece published in an online paper about local environmental issues. Danny told Sam that he was happy for her, and so did Tucker when he joined them. Then Tucker turned to Danny and asked,

“How’s your training going? Can you shoot lightning bolts out of your eyes yet?” Danny’s smile dropped a bit. Sam tutted.

“Dude, could you lay on the pressure a little thicker? I think Danny is feeling too good about himself.” Tucker seemed to notice Danny’s expression, then, and he smiled sheepishly. 

“Oh, uh, I meant, ‘how’s your training going? It’s totally ok if you haven’t gotten the hang of your electricity powers yet.’” Danny laughed weakly.

“Don’t worry about it, man. Yeah, no gains yet, but it’s …” Mentally and emotionally draining? “It’s just a slow process, I guess. Right now it seems like all I can do is build up a really strong static charge and then discharge it as soon as I’m grounded. If I could hold on to the energy and release it on-command that could be useful, so that’s kind of what I’m working on.” Sam was nodding.

“That’s definitely something, Danny. Even if you can only use it in close-combat, a strong enough jolt could knock a lot of people out in one shot.”

“Not that we know exactly how a ghost will respond to it,” Tucker added. “Ghosts might not be that susceptible to electricity, and even if they are, some ghosts are probably resistant, especially if they have an electric core, too, so …” Danny and Sam were both looking at him with slightly confused expressions. “What? I’m just saying, there’s no pressure. Whatever happens with your powers, we all need to make sure we stay sharp. Always have a backup plan and such.” 

“Yeah,” Danny said, “that’s true.” You probably shouldn’t rely on me. “I probably shouldn’t put so much pressure on myself.” He started cutting up the ambiguous-meat-based loaf on his plate with a plastic fork. “It would be nice to shoot lightning bolts, though,” he said wistfully. There was a slightly awkward silence before Sam said,

“Did you guys hear they’re remaking The Bride of Death?” Danny and Tucker both groaned.

“Of all of Karlos Harstin’s classic horror movies,” Tucker said, “that’s the one that needs a remake? Really?” Danny shook his head. 

“Why are they remaking all these sixties flicks, anyway? Who is asking for these?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said with a shrug. “I think they could do it well. Give the bride more agency, for one thing. I mean, the movie is named after her and what does she do in the original? Nothing; she’s a sexy lamp. I, for one, am looking forward to a more modern take.”

“But why not just make a modern movie?” Danny asked. “Why not have a new character and a new story and actually do something inventive?” 

“Because they need to sell tickets.” Tucker nodded.

“It’s always about money.” 

“Capitalism ruins everything,” Danny said with a scowl. Sam smirked. 

“Are you just figuring that out now?”

Tucker started to ask, “So, who’s directing -” but then he apparently noticed something behind Danny’s head and frowned. Danny followed Tucker’s gaze and realized what he was looking at just as Tucker was saying, “Ugh, Dash alert.” Danny quickly turned around, hoping Dash hadn’t noticed him, but it was clear he and Kwan were already walking toward them.

“Don’t engage,” Sam whispered. Danny nodded slightly, focusing on his food as he heard two sets of footsteps approach and then stop right behind him.  

“Aww, Kwan, look - it always warms my heart to see the losers huddling together for warmth in this cold uncaring world. It’s so sweet that you guys think that being friends with each other will make it any less likely that you’ll all die alone in a ditch.”

“Well, probably not Sam, because her family has a lot of money,” Kwan said. 

“I guess that’s true. Is that why you guys hang out with this goth freak? Is she paying you to be her friends?” Danny saw Sam rolling her eyes, and he smiled. “I bet she pays you to do all sorts of things. Tell me, do you guys both fuck her at once or do you take turns?” The trio all kept their eyes down. “That embarrassing, huh? She must be into the really weird shit.” 

Danny felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder, but he kept still. “Come on, Fenton, give us the deets.”  After another few seconds of silence, Dash knocked on the top of Danny’s head. “Hey, we’re talking to you, Fentina.” 

Danny tensed. Immediately, Tucker was saying,

“Whoa! Not cool, dude,” while Sam said,

“Uh, transphobic much?” 

Danny was glad his friends were there to defend him, but in this exact moment he wished they had just stayed quiet. He really didn’t want to make a scene. He tried to subtly shake his head, but they were both focused on Dash.

“What did you just call me?” Dash’s voice was quiet, and it sounded like he was giving them a chance to back down. Danny shook his head more insistently. Sam opened her mouth to answer, but then looked at Danny, who was silently pleading with her to drop it. She huffed and then looked back at Dash. 

“I said, just leave us alone, Dash. Go eat your lunch.” Danny held his breath during the silence that followed. Finally, Dash scoffed. 

“Fine, but not because you told me to.” Danny rolled his eyes even as he let out a sigh of relief. Dash and Kwan both walked past the table. Kwan stopped for a second and let Dash get ahead before turning and quietly saying, 

“Sorry, Danny.” Then he caught up with Dash as they made their way to the cool kid’s table. The trio all watched them go, and once they were out of earshot, Sam started angrily stabbing at her salad with her fork. 

“Ugh, I wish I could just … ugh!” Her knuckles were white. “He shouldn’t be able to get away with saying whatever he wants.” Tucker was looking at Danny.

“You ok, man?” Danny took an unsteady breath instead of answering. Now that Dash wasn’t breathing down his neck, the cold fear that had filled him a few seconds ago was quickly being replaced with a hot anger that had his skin tingling and his hair standing on end. He was gripping his fork at least as tightly as Sam was gripping hers, which he realized when the thin plastic snapped in his fist. He reflexively turned his hand intangible before the sharp edges could cut him. Sam was looking at him, too, now, with a concerned expression that matched Tucker’s. With some effort, Danny smiled.

“Yeah, I’m good. I mean, who cares what Dash says? He’s Dash. Fuck that guy, right?” Danny idly picked up half of the broken fork and turned it over in his hands. “He’s gonna peak when he’s twenty-four and I’m gonna … go to space or something. Change the face of astrophysics. I don’t know. I’ll have a good half a century when I’m living my best life and he’s desperately trying to fill the void with food and sex. So he can have his fun now.” 

Danny realized that Sam and Tucker were staring at his hands. He looked down and saw that the plastic fork was blackened and partially melted. He looked back at Sam and Tucker, who’s expressions were both now somewhere between concern and fear. Sam was the first to speak.

“I appreciate destructive post-modern art as much as the next girl, but maybe there’s a better time and place?” 

“Yeah, dude,” Tucker added. “I get it, but what if someone saw?” He punctuated this by looking around to the other tables, none of whom were apparently interested in the trio. 

 “Right, yeah, I’m …” Danny felt like he should apologize, but he wasn’t sure what to apologize for. He sighed and picked up the other half of the broken fork before standing up. “I’m gonna get a new fork.” Sam and Tucker glanced at one another, but said nothing as Danny walked away. 

***

Danny was staring out his bedroom window and trying not to think about anything when heard a quiet knock. 

“Yeah?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Jazz open the door and poke her head in. He was sitting in the middle of his bed with his arms wrapped around his knees. Jazz stepped slowly into the room. 

“How are you doing, little brother?” Danny continued staring out his window for a moment before looking at her. 

“Well, I’m afraid to touch my phone, my computer, or my playstation, so, uh. Bored.” She made a face that Danny recognized as a combination of disappointment and concern. Everybody seemed to be concerned lately. Danny didn’t like that, but he had to admit, even if only to himself, that they had good reasons. 

“Have you tried reading a book? Maybe doing some homework?” 

“I …” He had, in fact, but he couldn’t really focus on it. He kept getting up to do other things, or he would just stare at the page and not do anything. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do it - he didn’t, but that wasn’t the issue. He just couldn’t get into the right frame of mind to sit down and work. Normally, he did his homework either late at night or in the morning before school, since he spent most of his time ghost hunting. As a result, he was usually too tired to get distracted. With the recent lack of ghost activity, he actually had time to do homework after school, but he couldn’t take advantage of the time because he apparently was incapable of doing any work during the day. 

He wondered, not for the first time, whether Jazz’s psychology obsession might actually be able to help him. He certainly felt messed up enough. Not that he would ever tell her as much; it wouldn’t be fair to put that on her. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll get started on my homework.” 

“That’s good. And don’t get too worried about your powers, ok? You dealt with all of your ghost powers coming in at once somehow, so I’m sure you can handle all this new electricity stuff.” Danny nodded and didn’t say that he was well aware of that and it made him feel like an idiot that he was struggling so much with something he would have been able to handle easily a year and a half ago. “Actually,” Jazz said, “about your powers …” Danny tilted his head to the side as Jazz averted her gaze. “Uhm, it’s not a big deal, but I found scorch marks around the outlet by the kitchen table. I’m guessing that was you?” It was Danny’s turn to look away sheepishly. He nodded. 

He’d been planning to do homework in the kitchen, so he’d brought his computer and charger down. When he plugged the charger into the wall, it started sparking and burning. Thank goodness the other end hadn’t been plugged into his computer. With his hands carefully covered by a dish towel, Danny had removed the charger - now probably ruined - and quickly brought it and his computer back into his room. He hadn’t even thought about the damage to the wall. 

“Ok, like I said, not a big deal, I get it, but, if it happens again, can you clean the scorch marks off? If mom and dad see that, they’ll want to know what happened, and, you know. There’s no easy explanation.” Danny nodded again.

“Yeah, sorry, will do.” 

“Ok, thanks. The outlet still works, by the way, so we’re good there.” She stepped back into the hall. Before closing the door she added, “And good luck with your homework. Let me know if I can help.” Danny smiled.

“Yeah, thanks.” Jazz smiled back as she closed the door. Danny sighed and looked over at his desk where his math textbook was still sitting open.

***

“No, I haven’t made any progress,” Danny said as he crossed his arms. “I don’t even know what progress would look like. Apparently all I need to do to control my powers is believe harder, and that doesn’t seem like something I can practice. What do you want me to do? Believe six impossible things before breakfast?” 

“It was merely a question.” Danny scoffed.

“A question you already knew the answer to, because you know everything.”

“Yes.” Danny rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t …” Danny glared at the floor. “I mean, it’s a lot of things, I don’t know. I feel like you’re putting a lot on me, but also, like, these powers are ruining my life because I basically can’t touch things anymore. I keep melting things or setting them on fire when I’m not careful. So that’s kind of a lot. And I’m definitely freaking out my friends and Jazz but I have no idea what to do to make them think I’m ok because, you know, I’m really not, but it’s not something they can help with. And I’m stressed about school. And I still have to deal with any ghosts that try to start shit in Amity. And Dash all but misgendered me at lunch the other day and I really want to just kick his teeth in which I know is bad but it doesn’t even matter because I can’t because if I tried anything I’d probably end up electrocuting him.” Danny looked back up at Clockwork, who’s expression had softened.

“I’m sorry. Of course you’re going through a lot right now. You know I can’t interfere, but I do care, and I am here for you. If you want to talk …” Danny shook his head.

“I don’t really think talking helps.” Clockwork hesitated for a few moments, but at last he nodded. 

“Very well. Let’s focus on getting control of your electricity powers, then. The last thing anyone wants is for you to hurt somebody.” Danny chuckled.

“Can’t have me turning evil, right? The Observants would probably dock your pay for that.” Clockwork smiled.

“I find your consistent misunderstanding of my relationship with the Observants endlessly entertaining.”

“That’s good, because I have no intention of learning.” Danny was very aware of the fact that Clockwork hadn’t dismissed his comment about turning evil. He tried not to read into that. Clockwork gestured forward. 

“Shall we?” 

They flew to the ‘training room’ Clockwork had put together two weeks ago when Danny had first asked him to help with his new electricity powers. It was basically just an empty stone room with a few objects strewn about as targets or obstacles, some conductive and some not. The arrangement of the room suggested that Clockwork had intended for Danny to stand in the centre of the room and try to hit the targets at range, but it had become clear very quickly that ranged attacks were well outside of his ability. Danny had spent pretty much the entirety of their first session just getting to a point where he could consistently produce a charge, and their second session simply trying to hold on to his charge while he was grounded. The latter hadn’t exactly been successful.  

Clockwork stopped in the middle of the room and turned back to Danny. “I want to do something different today.” Danny was relieved to hear that, but he tried not to show it. “Before you can control how your electricity behaves, you need to feel that it is your electricity. You need to believe that it is something you do, rather than something that happens to you. To that end, I want you to try summoning electricity intentionally without relying on your emotions. You should be able to remain perfectly calm while creating a charge.” 

Danny took a deep breath. That sounded good, if difficult. He’d more or less gotten the hang of working himself up until he could feel the electricity, but he’d suspected that wasn’t the best way to do this. He still wasn’t sure about this ‘believing he was in control’ business, but surely, if he could remain calm while using his powers, then he’d have an easier time controlling them. It made sense that his emotions would get in the way and keep him from focusing the way he needed to. 

Of course, it was easy to say that, but he still had to figure out how to draw on his electricity powers. They didn’t feel the same as his regular ghost powers. The electricity, if Clockwork was right, ultimately came from his core, but it wasn’t as simple as drawing energy from his core as he usually did. There was an extra step that needed to happen to turn that core energy into electricity, a step which had only ever happened unconsciously before. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what it felt like when he got angry or frustrated and recreate that feeling without actually becoming angry or frustrated. It was about as impossible as he expected. 

“It’s alright. Do what you need to do to summon the electricity, and, as you do, focus on what’s happening in your body.” Danny nodded and took another breath as he thought about Dash. It was an easy go-to to get himself angry. He remembered various taunts and insults that Dash had thrown his way in the past year. He had become less physical lately, probably because Danny had handed him his ass one too many times with the help of his ghost powers, but the words had only gotten worse since then. Danny felt the familiar buzzing, and he tried to focus on that.

He felt the prickling heat throughout his body, but he had no idea where it was coming from. The buzzing, tingling sensation seemed to mostly be on the surface of his skin, and especially in his hands. Did that mean it was coming from his hands? He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. The tingling disappeared first, while the heat remained. So, then, the electricity must come from deeper in his body. But as he relaxed, he found that the feeling simply faded away. When he started thinking about Dash again, the heat returned, but it didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular. He opened his eyes and shook his head. 

“I don’t know. It’s just … It all just happens at once. It definitely doesn’t feel like I’m doing anything.” 

“And is that different from all of your other powers?” Danny considered. Certainly, some of his powers did happen reflexively on occasion, and they had done so much more when he first got them. 

“I used to go intangible a lot without meaning to. I don’t think it was ever tied to my emotions, but it definitely wasn’t intentional.”

“And how did you learn to control that?”

“I’m not … really sure? It was kind of trial and error. Now I just do it, same as flying or, I don’t know, breathing. It’s like a muscle I can flex. But early on … I remember trying to - and don’t laugh - to just think intangible thoughts. Like, I would try to picture myself being intangible.” Clockwork didn’t laugh, but then, he so rarely did. 

“And what happens when you picture yourself using your electricity powers?” Danny shrugged. “Why don’t we try that?” Danny dutifully closed his eyes and pictured himself summoning electricity, his body glowing and crackling with energy. 

They spent an hour or two like that, alternating between Danny summoning electricity with his emotions and trying to do so with his mind. By the end of it, he was feeling as frustrated and disappointed as ever, but Clockwork reminded him that it had taken over a month of practice to get his other powers under control. 

“Yeah,” Danny sighed, “I guess. But I feel like it should be easier now than it was then. I should be better at this because I’ve done it before.” 

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. This is new, and there’s no reason for you to be especially good at it or to improve especially quickly.” 

“But I could, right? If I just believed that I could?” Clockwork inclined his head slightly.

“More easily said than done, I gather. But yes.” Danny gritted his teeth as he smiled.

“Cool.” 

“I think we can put this particular exercise on hold for now. Was there anything else you wanted to do or discuss?” Danny shook his head. “Are you certain? I know you don’t want to talk about everything, but if there’s anything I can do to support you, all you need do is ask.” 

“I know, and that’s really cool of you, but …” But I don’t even know what to ask for. But I feel like you’d just be wasting your time on a lost cause. But I’m afraid of what would happen if I did ask for help. “But I’ll be okay.” 

Clockwork was silent for a long time, and Danny imagined that he was scanning possible futures to see whether there would be any horrible consequences if he let Danny just walk out. Clockwork had explained once that timelines involving beings who existed outside of time, including himself, were much harder to see and much less certain than most. Considering how much Clockwork interacted with him, Danny wondered whether his timeline was still visible at all. When the silence started to get uncomfortable, Danny said,

“Really, I’ll be okay. And I promise to let you know if that changes.” After another moment, Clockwork finally nodded. 

“Then I will see you in a week.”

“Well, I’ll see you in a week. You’ll see me right now, because time doesn’t exist here.”

“No, that’s still not how that works.” Danny rolled his eyes. “But, if it makes you happy, then yes, I’ll see you right now.” Danny smiled again, more genuinely this time. 

“See you then.” 

***

 Danny had a math test on Wednesday, which meant that he couldn’t think about anything on Tuesday. For the past two weeks, he’d been telling himself that he still had time, but now he didn’t and he wasn’t prepared. History and science passed in a blur. At the end of each class he had about a page of notes and absolutely no memory of writing them. Tucker tried to help him study during lunch, the two of them sitting alone in a stairwell. Unfortunately, Tucker was a lot better at math than he was at teaching. By the third step of an explanation, Danny had already lost the thread. When he got the wrong answers on practice questions, Tucker couldn’t understand where he had gone wrong or why. At one point, a small group of people walked past them, and one of them made a comment about Danny and Tucker’s sexualities, and then another made a comment about Danny’s genitals and wondered aloud whether that made a difference, and the group continued discussing it as they walked away. Tucker yelped at the electric shock he received through the floor. Danny thanked Tucker for trying to help but said he’d rather keep studying alone. 

After lunch was math, which thankfully was a review period. Danny was somewhat comforted by the fact that a lot of people in class had a lot of questions, many of them the same questions that he had. The answers the teacher gave made sense, but then it always made sense in class. He had his pages of practice open in front of him and he wrote on them in pen explaining what he had done wrong and what he should have done. He wrote a lot of exact quotes of what the teacher said. He wasn’t sure it would be enough. When they did practice questions in class he was still getting wrong answers. He didn’t understand why. The teacher would say something and Danny would write it down and then ten minutes later he would be looking at the question and not remember what they’d just talked about. He did get some right, though. He wasn’t sure whether it was luck or skill, but he got some questions right and he had to hold on to that. The test would be worth fifteen percent and that seemed like a lot all at once. Danny knew that being stressed wouldn’t help and he would hate himself if he failed because he was too stressed to focus on that one day.  So he tried to figure out how to do the questions he didn’t understand and to remind himself that he did know some of this and based on the questions other people were asking he probably was doing better than some people and that was a good thing and he just had to relax and trust that he was smart enough to pass because if he didn’t relax then it wouldn’t even matter how smart he was and he wasn’t exactly sure how to relax so he just tried to breathe deeply and hoped that was close enough. 

Gym wasn’t great, but gym was never great. Danny was a lot stronger and more coordinated in ghost form than human. They had recently started their football unit, which was a blessing in disguise as the coach was almost entirely focused on the students who were on the football team, leaving the rest of the class to devote as much or as little effort as they wanted to the class. Danny was barely aware of what he was doing as he practiced throwing and catching with a partner. He overextended his arm a lot and every time he felt a pang in his elbow, but he wasn’t too worried about it because his ghost powers made him an impossibly fast healer. By this time tomorrow his arm would be perfectly fine and ready for him to wreck it again. He knew that if he just threw the ball properly then he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain. He didn’t want to hurt his arm. So he should probably just stop overextending it. He knew how to; the coach had gone over it at the beginning of class. Danny threw the ball back to his partner and winced. 

***

“We’re only bringing this up because we’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Danny didn’t make eye contact with his parents, who were sitting on the couch across from him. He was sat cross-legged on a chair, staring at the blank TV screen. He’d been watching some mindless made-for-TV drama flick until a few minutes ago when his parents had turned it off and said they wanted to talk. 

“Can you tell us anything about what’s going on?” his father asked, his voice and eyes pleading. Danny understood their concern, of course, but what could he tell them? That he was frustrated because he couldn’t control his new ghost powers? He didn’t imagine that going over well. He shook his head.

“It’s really nothing. I’m sorry if I worried you, but I’m fine.” His father shook his head.

“Danny, it’s obvious you aren’t fine. Please. Is something happening at school? Are you being bullied?”

“No, of course not. I would tell you. That’s what you do, right? ‘Always tell an adult,’ or whatever?”

“Is it drugs?” his mother asked. Danny rolled his eyes.

“No, mom, I can absolutely promise you that I am not now doing nor will I ever do drugs. I’m not an idiot.”

“Sometimes smart people make mistakes, Danny. We want you to feel comfortable enough to come to us if you do make a mistake.” Yeah, actually there was this pretty big mistake involving the ghost portal … He sighed. 

“Of course I do, mom. You guys have always been supportive, and I know you’ll love me no matter what.” As long as you still believe that I’m me, and not some ghost pretending to be your son. “Please believe that I would tell you if something was going on.” His parents looked at each other for what felt like a very long time. Then his mother looked back at him and smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ok, Danny. But just … just talk to us, ok? Whatever’s going on, good or bad, we want to hear about it.” 

“We want to be a part of your life,” his father added. Danny did feel guilty for shutting them out, but he knew it had to be done. He wanted to believe that they would accept him as a half-ghost, but … well, but he didn’t. 

“You are a part of my life,” he said, chuckling slightly. “I mean, family, friends, school, that’s pretty much all I’ve got going on. By my math, you guys and Jazz are like, an entire third of my life. I’m not sure I can give you much more than that.” 

“Speaking of which,” his mother began, her tone still serious. Danny sighed again. “How is school going? Your grades dropped a lot when you started high school. Are you getting the help you need? Are things getting any easier?” Danny shrugged as he looked at the carpet.

“Yeah, I guess? It was just the workload, you know? I wasn’t prepared for it.” Somehow he hadn’t anticipated that he would have to deal with dying and then becoming a superhero at the same time as he was adjusting to high school. “I think this year will be better. I’m starting to … find my rhythm, or something.” 

“You’re getting your homework done every night?” Danny cringed, but he covered it with another shrug.

“Yeah, I mean, most of it is optional, anyway. Like, we usually go over everything in class, and the homework is just if you need more practice.” Admittedly, that was true for his math and science classes, so he was only half-lying. He also conveniently left out the detail that he absolutely could use the extra practice. His father smiled brightly.

“Ha! So you’re too smart to need their dumb homework. That’s my boy!” His mother frowned.

“I would feel better if you did the homework, even if you don’t think you need to. Practice never hurt anyone.” Danny almost laughed as he recalled how often he and his friends had gotten hurt when he practiced using his powers in the months after he got them. It wasn’t really funny, though. 

“Yeah, I’ll try. Are we done here? Not to be rude, but I was kind of watching TV.” His mother sighed and his father nodded.

“I think we’re done, right Madds? Just remember that you can talk to us about anything that’s bothering you. Especially if it’s ghosts.” He suddenly squinted his eyes. “You aren’t being bothered by ghosts, are you son?” If only you knew. “Because you know your old man could take care of that problem, no … problem.”

“No, dad, I don’t have a ghost problem.” Danny reached for the remote, but hesitated for a moment, partially to decide whether he should say something else and partially to let the tingling in his fingertips subside. The remote was covered in plastic, but he’d learned the hard way that that wasn’t always enough. After a second, he added, “And thanks for reaching out. I know you guys just want what’s best for me. I love you.” His parents both smiled. His father said,

“Anytime, son.” His mother nodded and said,

“We love you, too, sweetie.” Danny smiled back at them for a moment, but he found that he had to look away. After a year and a half, he would have thought lying to them would come naturally, but it still made his stomach twist and his eyes sting. 

***

Danny thought that the math test went alright, which possibly meant that his last-minute studying had paid off and possibly meant that he was so unprepared that he couldn’t even tell when he didn’t know the answers. He wanted to believe he was just being pessimistic, but considering how often he’d gotten wrong answers on the practice questions when he thought he was doing them correctly, it seemed at least as likely as not that he had bombed the test. Or maybe he’d performed completely middlingly. He wouldn’t know for at least a few days. That wasn’t going to stop him from worrying about it. Luckily, he also had a history paper due in less than two weeks, so he figured he could switch things up and worry about that when he got tired of worrying about his math grade. 

Gym class managed to distract him pretty well as they were now learning plays, which meant a lot of moving around and paying attention to where other people were and hand-eye coordination. He was pretty bad at it, and he got some comments to that effect from other students, but he was used to that. 

The football team had practice on the field right after school, and several of the team members arrived a few minutes before the bell. The coach was already completely distracted, so Danny decided he didn’t need to stick around. He changed as quickly as he could in a bathroom stall and sprayed himself with too much body spray because he had long since learned not to shower at school when other students might walk in. He was walking out of the changeroom just as the bell rang, and he saw Dash walking toward him. He put his head down, but there was no way to avoid walking past him. Danny hoped that Dash would ignore him and just go into the changeroom, but when Danny turned down a side hallway, he heard footsteps behind him. 

“Leave me alone, Dash. Don’t you have to get to practice?” 

“Oh, I’ve always got time to make your life harder, Fenton.” Danny rolled his eyes and kept walking. “Hey, how is gym going for you, anyway? You look like such a scrawny piece of shit, I can’t imagine you’re acing the class. Which is funny, because you want to be an astronaut, don’t you? You know that astronauts have to be in shape, right? As in, a shape other than a stick.”

“‘Stick’ isn’t really a shape.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I just said, isn’t it? Jesus, are you deaf, too?”

“Whatever.” Danny was at his locker, now. He turned his body to hide the fact that he opened the door by briefly making the lock intangible. 

“Kind of makes me wonder what you’ll actually end up doing for money once you realize your dreams are stupid. Maybe you’ll join the freak family business with your useless dad and weirdly hot mom.” That one got Danny to look up.

“What was that about my mom?” Dash laughed as he leaned casually against the lockers.

“Oh, does that bother you?” Danny shrugged.

“Eh, not really. You’re not the first creep to have a thing for my mom.”

“Well, it’s no wonder. The poor woman doesn’t have real man in the house to look after her. Your dad’s a fucking joke, and you’re, well.” He looked Danny up and down in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable. “Huh. You know, you’ve kind of got her figure. If you hadn’t decided to be a dude, you probably would have looked just like her.” Danny was packing his bag, now, as quickly as he could. He hated everything about how this conversation was going and he could already feel the heat rising in his veins. “You’ve still got a pussy, though, don’t you? You know, I’ve got a couple ideas for how you could make money, if you want.” 

 What happened next seemed like the kind of thing that should happen in slow-motion, but, instead, it was all terrifyingly fast. 

Danny shoved the last book in his bag and slammed his locker shut. As soon as his hand touched the metal door, electricity was flowing out of him, through the wall of lockers, and into Dash’s back. Dash made no sound as he fell to the floor, his body completely limp. There was a slight whisp of smoke rising from his burned shirt. 

Danny was frozen in place for several seconds, staring at Dash’s body, praying that he would move, or make some noise, or something. Nothing happened. Soon enough, somebody would come looking for Dash, and Danny felt very strongly that he needed to not be here when they arrived. He locked his locker; somewhere in the back of his mind he thought that leaving it open would tie him to the scene, and closing it would give him plausible deniability. Then, without another look at Dash, he grabbed his backpack and ran. 

***

Danny was sitting outside of Clockwork’s castle and thinking. He might have killed someone. He couldn’t control his powers and now he might have killed someone. Dash was an awful person, but did he deserve to die? Actually, Danny didn’t have a good answer to that question. He wondered whether the world would be better without Dash. Then he felt guilty because even if that was the case, it wasn’t Danny’s place to decide who lived and who died. He had lost so much sleep worrying about becoming the kind of person who thought that they could decide who lived and who died simply because they had the power to do so, and now that Dash might be dead he found himself trying to justify his actions and he wondered whether it was already happening and he was already the person he had feared becoming and that terrified him but the idea that he might have just killed an innocent person for no reason simply because his powers were out of his control wasn’t much easier to palette because firstly that meant that he had killed an innocent person which was exactly the kind of thing that the kind of person he didn’t want to be would do and did it really matter why he killed them or whether or not he felt guilty about it when at the end of the day the person was still dead and all of the consequences of that would happen regardless of why he had done it or how he felt about it like all of Dash’s family and friends would be destroyed and all of them were innocent victims too so it wasn’t even just one person that he hurt but countless people in countless ways that he would never even know not that knowing would make it any better and secondly that meant that his powers were out of control and he thought he already knew that but he’d still been careless and acted like he could control them and he didn’t take any precautions and now it was too late and even if it wasn’t too late for Dash Danny still couldn’t avoid the fact that he could have killed someone because he couldn’t control his powers but he had no idea how to control his powers and he wasn’t sure that it was possible and that was really the worst part of all of this because it meant that this could happen again and Danny didn’t want it to happen again of course he didn’t but he remembered what Clockwork had told him that he really was in control but he was just controlling the power subconsciously and all he needed to do was believe that and he could bring that control to his conscious mind and Danny had wanted to believe that before but he couldn’t because it didn’t feel like he was in control but now it was worse because if he accepted that he was in control all along that he would have to accept that he had chosen to electrocute Dash and what really terrified him was that he couldn’t dismiss that possibility out of hand because of course he had wanted to electrocute Dash even if he would never ordinarily have done it and honestly even if he was right and Clockwork was wrong about his powers it was still true that Danny had felt the electricity inside himself and he had seen that Dash was leaning on the lockers and he had touched the metal door so he couldn’t even really say that what had happened had happened because he couldn’t control his power because he could certainly control what he touched and when and he had chosen to touch the locker at that moment which meant that he had chosen to electrocute Dash which meant that he was turning evil and he wanted to say that he didn’t want to be evil but of course he did because if he didn’t then he wouldn’t have done what he did and Danny could swear all day that he hadn’t wanted that to happen but if he really hadn’t wanted to kill Dash then he wouldn’t have but he did or at least he tried to so then Danny must really be evil even though he felt like he didn’t want to be evil and he had no idea what that meant and all he could think was that sooner or later he would probably just accept it and stop feeling guilty and when that happened he had no idea what he might do so he had to make sure that didn’t happen or Clockwork had to because wasn’t that the whole point of their arrangement that Clockwork was supposed to stop Danny from being evil or kill him if he did turn evil but he hadn’t done anything yet which might mean that there was still a chance for Danny or it might mean that Clockwork was just giving him time to process and make peace with what had happened before killing him or maybe Danny was just going to be stuck here in Clockwork’s castle forever where he couldn’t hurt anyone which wasn’t exactly a pleasant idea but he supposed it was better than him hurting people but then if he really believed that then maybe that meant that he really wasn’t evil at all because how could an evil person be willing to sacrifice themselves to save others but then how could a good person have electrocuted someone just because they were being a dick because that was exactly what Danny had done and actions spoke louder than words even the words in someone’s head.

Danny went through the same circular thoughts for what felt like hours, though of course in reality no time was passing. He wondered several times why Clockwork hadn’t come to see him yet - it wasn’t like he didn’t have the time - but he eventually realized that he wasn’t in any state of mind to talk. Gradually, he managed to become … not calm, exactly, but much less agitated. 

When Clockwork did appear, he didn’t speak, and Danny didn’t either. He had a lot of questions, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to any of them. For a long time, they both just stared out into the ghost zone, watching the colours in the sky flow and swirl. 

“Did I kill him?” Danny asked when he couldn’t bear the silence any longer. Clockwork hesitated a moment before responding. 

“You know I can’t tell you what’s going to -” Danny shook his head.

“Yeah, I know. But can you tell me if he was dead when I left?”

“He wasn’t.”

“Ok.” Danny nodded. “Ok.” He didn’t know what else to say. 

“You know that you have to go back.” It wasn’t a question, but Danny shook his head. 

“I’m not sure I should.” 

“I know you’re not, but that doesn’t change anything. You can’t stay here forever. Sooner or later you need to face the consequences of your actions.” Danny closed his eyes.

“I’m not ready.”

“I know.”

Danny tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat. It was only then that he noticed the prickling in his eyes, and within moments the tears were flowing freely. He was dimly surprised to realize that this was the first time he’d cried all day. He’d been thinking so much about what happened, running it over and over and analyzing everything, but he hadn’t really felt it. Now that he was experiencing those emotions, they overwhelmed him. He was scared and sad and frustrated and disappointed and angry and shocked and he had no idea what to do with all of that so he just wrapped his arms around his chest and sobbed. He barely even noticed the other set of arms that encircled him. 

The two of them sat, unmoving, for a long time while Danny cried. He felt like he could stay here crying into his mentor’s shoulder forever. Indeed, they were in the one place where that might be possible. But Danny could still feel the passage of time, and, slowly, his tears started to subside, though his emotions were still a mess. 

“I can’t do it,” Danny whispered, his voice choked. “My powers, I can’t -”

“You can.” 

“I can’t. I can’t even do my homework. I can’t pay attention in class. I can’t throw a goddamn football properly.” Danny sobbed again, and it took him a few tries to get his breath back. “I should be able to, but if I could then why would I be doing this? Why would I make my life harder on purpose? Why would I fucking elecrocute someone? If I could control it then this wouldn’t have happened. Or if I can, then I’m a psychopath.” 

“I’m sorry,” Clockwork said gently. “I know this is difficult, but I promise to help you in any way I can.”

“You can’t help me. If I’m the only one who can control what I do, then you can’t help. I’m the only one who could theoretically help me, and apparently I either can’t or won’t.” Danny’s tears had completely stopped now, and he wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“We’ll keep working on this together. I won’t give up on you, Danny, and I won’t let you give up on yourself.” 

“You’re going to be disappointed.” 

“Are you implying that the Master of Time doesn’t know what’s going to happen in the future?” He said it like a joke, but Danny couldn’t bring himself to smile. 

“Not when you interfere with events.”

“True enough. Even so, I know that you could never disappoint me. And I know that, sooner or later, you will figure out your powers and whatever else you need to figure out. And I know that, impossible though it may sound, you will be happy.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t have to just yet. For now, I will believe it for both of us.”

[banditthewriter]

The Woman Without Fear - Matt Murdock

This idea was sent to me by an anon for Valentine’s Day. I don’t actually work Valentine’s day into it, haha, but hopefully you still like it darling!

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, torture, talk of needles. Take care of yourselves dears!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

It sounded like someone was crying in the distance. It was a daily instance, but this sounded different. This sounded more like someone was scared.

The sound of a slap made you jerk your head to the side. Down on the ground you saw the form of a man raising his hand to strike the crying woman again.

Not on your watch.

You dropped off of the fire escape you were crouched on as you tuned your eavesdropping device. It left you on the far end of the alley, away from the couple, and you quietly made your way forward.

He might have a weapon and you didn't want the girl to get hurt. Or you.

Close enough to be able to see him but not for him to see you just yet, you grabbed the little cylinder off your belt. With one brief squeeze, a metal shaft shot out of either end.

Bo staff in hand, you gave it a quick twirl before you stepped into the light of the streetlight.

“I think you're going to want to step away,” you said as you shifted your weight, preparing.

The guy had a strong grip on the arm of a smaller woman, his fingers turning her skin pale from the hold. She looked petrified and you were a little disheartened to see that at least some of that was directed at you.

The hood and mask you wore were to protect your identity, not to strike fear into the hearts of the people you interacted with.

That was just a nice bonus.

“Release her,” you demanded in a firm tone as you spun the bo staff around menacingly.

The guy stared you down. If he was perturbed by staring at a masked person with a metal staff, he didn't show it. Instead he started to smile, teeth showing like a snarl more than anything else.

He didn't say a word. He just pulled a gun out of his pocket with his free hand and aimed it directly at you.

“What's that shiny stick gonna do for you against this?”

You were ready, knees bent and staff held level. Time seemed to slow down as he pulled the trigger at the exact instant a body dropped down on top of him.

The bullet shot wide of its mark but you still felt the pain as it grazed you. You grit your teeth and spun around, your staff knocking the attacker down as your quote-unquote savior stood up.

Daredevil. You should have known.

While he made sure the assailant was down for the count, you turned to the girl that was cowering against the wall.

“You're safe,” you said as you twirled the staff away from her. “Are you hurt?”

Her eyes darted past you and you watched them widen with fear before she crumpled onto the ground. You shot to her side, tearing off your gloves to check her for a pulse or any injuries.

“She fainted,” Daredevil said in a gruff voice. “She's not the one bleeding from a gunshot.”

“It was a graze,” you shot back as you continued to look the girl over. “I had it under control.”

“He had a gun,” he replied as he stalked forward.

You stood up and looked him over. The costume looked like it probably kept him mostly safe. The mask was a little terrifying, you had to admit, but only when he was frowning at you like that.

And why didn't it have eye holes? What kind of material was it that he could see through it?

“You aren't the only one that can protect this city, Daredevil. And I can take care of myself.”

His head tilted towards your arm. Whether or not he could see through the mask, you knew he couldn't make out your wound in the dark and through the layers you wore.

You twirled the staff around until your fingers found the slight depression. With a quick squeeze, the sides retracted back in and you replaced the cylinder to your hip.

“You shouldn't be out here trying to take down the criminal element,” Daredevil said with another frown.

It was almost word for word what he said the first time you ran into him.

“I'm not asking your permission.” And then, as you brushed past him back to the fire escape you had been staked out on, you gave him one last look. “You aren't the only one willing to bleed for this city. But at least with me it's not permanent.”

Let him ponder on that, you thought as you took off at a run, climbing up onto the fire escape and back to where you had left your hearing devices.

The night was still young.

------

The first time that you met Daredevil, you had been following what looked to be a gang. You couldn't be certain but you were pretty sure that they were about to commit a crime so you followed them.

It wasn't hard to do. They were on foot and not trying to be stealth or evasive. But they had guns and knives and you weren't about to let anyone come to harm that night.

On one rooftop overlooking the run down apartment building they entered, you were poised to head in if you heard any sound or commotion.

One second you're bracing yourself on the edge of the roof, ready to run to the roof access door if needed. The next you were spun around to face Daredevil himself.

Quickly you went into defense mode, knocking his hand free and ducking away when he tried to grab you again. He was quick and apparently skilled but you weren't some slouch. You didn't just wake up one morning and decide this sounded fun.

“Stop trying to hit me,” he complained through clenched teeth.

“Well stop trying to grab me. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to grab a woman without her consent?”

His mouth ticked upwards and you weren't sure why you felt so proud for having made the devil smile.

“I make exceptions for when innocent people are stalking cartel members.”

A cartel? You thought they were some local gang members. You turned towards the street but he pulled you back a bit.

“Their lookout scours the rooftops. You might want to stay out of sight unless you want a bullet to the skull.”

You smirked but didn't say anything. Instead you pulled out of his grasp and headed over to the roof access door.

“If there is a cartel in my city, I'm not going to just let it happen.”

He followed you and kicked a foot out to keep you from being able to open the door.

“Someone like you shouldn't be out here trying to take on the criminal element of the city.”

That made you pause from wondering if you could trip him up.

“The devil is sexist? Good to know,” you said as you yanked on the door as hard as you could.

“It's not that. It's that you don't know what you're getting into. No one should try to take on the dark underbelly of this city.”

That was interesting. You pulled away from him and the door, eyes canvassing the rooftop for another way down.

“You take it on. You go through every inch of Hell's Kitchen and bloody up anyone that dares to cross your path. You do it every night. You think you own the rights to this city? You think you’re the only one that feels it’s their duty?” You scoffed and shook your head, taking a few steps backwards. “You’ve never been more wrong.”

You turned and took off at a run, the gravel on the roof crunching under your boots. You heard Daredevil call something out but you pushed that to the back of your mind as you launched yourself up and over the lip of the roof, sailing through the air before you landed on a nearby roof with a quiet thud.

The impact jostled you a bit, but you’d had worse. You stood up and looked across the opening to where Daredevil was still standing on the other roof. With a sarcastic salute, you turned and darted across that roof as well.

Let him handle the cartel for the night. You weren’t done just yet.

------

The actual first time you had met Daredevil had been before the red suit. It was before the nickname, before word of a man running around in a black mask had begun to circulate. You had watched him come from seemingly nowhere before he dragged your would be attacker away from you.

A right hook. A jab with the left. He spun around and kicked the man in the face, effectively knocking him out.

When he turned back to you, you could see his chest rising and falling. It didn’t look like it was with exertion because surely that hadn’t taken much energy. No, you had a feeling it was something else.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t do more than nod, unable to find your words. He had asked again, probably wanting to hear you verbalize it. Instead you stood up and ran out of the alley you had been pulled into.

That night you had sat on your bed and looked at the scars that circled your wrists from the way you had been strapped down during the experiments. They were the only scars that never seemed to heal.

With the memory of that man saving your life and the rush he seemed to get from it, you started to plan.

A few years later and you were the person that was rushing in to save people’s lives. You wore an outfit that was inspired by what you had seen on the not-yet-Daredevil; black pants that gave you didn’t hinder your movement but that wouldn’t weigh you down, a long sleeve black shirt, and a black jacket with attached hood that helped obscure your identity.

The mask was for that purpose too. It covered your face and it masked your voice to a point. On the off chance that you encountered someone you knew, you didn’t want them to figure out your secret.

Well, any of your secrets.

You placed the utility belt that you had made on the table and sighed. Next you shed your boots and jacket, your mask having been removed the moment you landed on the fire escape outside your apartment.

The wound from the bullet had already healed even though the blood on your shirt was still wet. You dropped the shirt onto the coffee table and moved over to where you kept a sewing kit. You’d patch the shirt and the jacket; at least this wound was small enough you didn’t need to pull out one of the others that you had stock piled when you started this.

Becoming a vigilante hadn’t been your plan. As a kid you had dreamed about becoming a doctor or a vet or something of the sort. You had it all figured out but it didn’t matter.

The experiments had been something your foster parents had signed you up for. They had told you that it was to help you but you weren’t so sure that that was the truth. It didn’t seem to matter. After days and weeks of boring medical tests, you were strapped to a bed and injected with multiple needles.

The lacerations on your wrists from where you tugged and tugged, desperate to run away, had never fully healed. Sometimes they still hurt, sometimes they burned.

You’d been awake for every second of the experiments. Some of the injections burned, some of them felt like you had ice being poured in your veins.

It was something you learned much later, but some of the kids that were forced into the experiments didn’t make it. You were one of the lucky ones.

The side effects included blinding headaches, fatigue, speedy healing, and extreme agility. It made running across rooftops and jumping from one building to another easier; you didn’t have to worry about not making the landing.

Granted you weren’t sure what it would take to kill you. Maybe a fall from a ten story building would leave a mark. Maybe a bullet to the brain or a knife to the heart.

So far you hadn’t found anything that kept you down for long.

That’s why you were going to keep doing what you could. That was why Daredevil wasn’t going to stop you.

------

Rain was falling pretty steadily and you frowned as you sat on a part of a roof that was covered. The device that you usually used to find trouble wasn’t working very well in this weather. It was partly a surveillance tap, using a mild transmitter that could pick up sounds up to a few blocks away. It also had the addition of being a police radio scanner but that didn’t help you stop crimes from happening.

The sound of boots on the roof made you grow rigid. You had been there for a while so surely no one had seen you. You took a deep breath and reached for the cylinder, but a voice made you freeze.

“This isn’t exactly the best weather for looking for trouble,” Daredevil said as he came around the wall of the little enclosure you had holed yourself up in.

“Who said I’m looking for trouble? I’m just minding my own business.”

He tilted his head for a moment before he smirked. His hand shot out and grabbed the cylinder on your hip, pressing the mechanism that made your staff stood out. He spun it around before he hit the mechanism that made it retract.

“I think that speaks for itself,” he reasoned as he held it out to you.

You snatched it from his hand and tucked it back onto your hip. The suit was wet but it didn’t look soaked through. Either he had been nearby or it was waterproof.

The heavy feeling of your soaked clothes made you a little envious of that. If you got into a fight right now, you had a feeling there’d be a lot of chafing.

At least it’d heal fast.

“There’s not going to be anything to do tonight,” Daredevil stated as he tilted his face towards the opening. It was eerie with the lack of eye holes, but you didn’t say anything. “You might as well go home.”

You rolled your eyes and reached up to wipe away the rain water that had started to drip under your mask.

“Yeah, and I bet you’ll just head back to whatever cave you crawl out of once the sun goes down, huh?”

He inclined his head as if conceding to you. While he was quiet, you lifted out the tiny device that had a wire in your hood, protected by a layer of plastic to keep it from shorting in the rain. The audio tuner wasn’t picking up anything but raining nearby so you flipped over to the police scanner.

“Is that how you find who needs help? A police scanner?”

You shot a look at him before you leaned back against the brick wall once more.

“Sometimes, yeah. Can’t always just walk past someone when they are in trouble.”

Did you detect a smirk on his lips? You tucked the device back into your pocket with the volume low enough that it barely registered to you. While you weren’t sure if you were on friendly terms with Daredevil or not, you couldn’t stop the thought that he had a nice smile.

The rain wasn’t pouring as hard as it had been. You stuck a hand out and then wiped it on your pants leg.

“You should be wearing gloves,” he said as he turned to face you, a frown covering that nice smile you had just been enjoying.

“I have them,” you said as you pulled them out of your jacket pocket. “I can’t tune the scanner with them on in the rain. You don’t have to worry about me getting frostbite.”

“Wasn’t worried about that. I was thinking about fingerprints.” He gestured to his mask and then to yours. “Figured the reason you wear that is because you have a life that takes place off of rooftops and you don’t want people to know that this is how you spend your free time.”

He had a point. You tugged on the gloves and crossed your arms over your chest. It didn’t feel like conceding to his demands. In fact…

“Are you giving me vigilante tips right now?”

The laugh that that brought out of him seemed to be a surprise even to him. He shook his head a bit.

“I haven’t been able to talk you out of this. I can at least make sure you’re doing it right.” And then with a smirk, “I’m not a vigilante, by the way.”

That made you laugh in return.

“You got a devil kink? And a rooftop kink?”

He started to reply but he froze, his head tilting to the side. You listened as well but there didn’t seem to be anything there. You fumbled with your radio before you could skip it over to the other channel. It didn’t pick up anything nearby.

“What is it?”

Did he have some sort of radio in his cowl? That would be cool… and really extra, which fit his whole aesthetic.

“Trouble,” he said with a wicked grin before he started to head out from the awning. Then, with a look over his shoulder, “You coming?”

You grinned wide under your mask and took off after him.

------

The pain was a dull reminder that you weren’t immune to dumb ideas. It also wasn’t going to stop you from other dumb ideas. Pain was funny like that.

The building that you and Daredevil had cleared during the fire hadn’t been very safe. He had told you to get out but you wanted to do one last pass. And good thing you did because there was a kid on the third floor that would have died.

You got him onto the fire escape and made him go first while you made sure there wasn’t anyone else up there. The sound of the crackling inside the building made you realize that there was about to be an explosion.

There was a window at the far end of the hallway that you were fairly certain led to a parking lot. It was the third floor so it wouldn’t hurt too bad. With that in mind you had taken off at a run and burst through the window right as the gas line blew.

The force of the explosion threw you further and you slammed into the ground harder than you had planned. The number of injuries was higher than you wanted to count. At that point you were breathing in concrete and praying that the building didn’t collapse on you.

Hands were on you, a frantic voice asking if you were okay. You groaned as you were rolled over, the thick taste of copper in your mouth.

“Fuck,” Daredevil swore as he pulled you a little further out of sight. Then he yanked off one of his gloves and started to pass it over your body. “Jesus, what were you thinking? I have to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” you said as your vision swam a little, seeing four horns instead of just two. “No hospitals. I mean it devil boy. No hospitals. I’ll be–”

You didn’t get much more out than that before you coughed up some more blood, feeling it trickle out from under your mask. Oh yeah. That was going to hurt for a bit.

And then it was dark.

------

There was a very obvious lack of a mask on your face. You reached up to check just in case and you saw that you weren’t wearing gloves anymore. Or your jacket or belt.

As you started to sit up, you felt a hand press against your shoulder and push you back down on the bed you were in.

“You had a rough night,” a somewhat familiar voice said. “Although by time my nurse friend got here, you were mostly healed. Neat little trick. Not something you can teach me is it?”

You tilted your face up a bit in the direction of Daredevil’s voice. Instead of seeing red leather and horns, you saw a very attractive man that looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. His hair was a mess, his eyes glassy.

Actually…

“Are you blind?”

A little color went to his cheeks and he leaned over to the bedside table where he grabbed a pair of red tinted glasses. He put them on and you watched him shift a little where he was sitting on the side of the bed next to you.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You jumped out of a third story window of a building that exploded and you look good as new.”

You sat up with a groan, ignoring his insistence that you lie back down.

“Might look good, but I feel like shit. And how do you know what I look like anyways?”

He cleared his throat and then gave a quick nod.

“I’m technically blind but I have enhanced senses. It’s a long story,” he said when you opened your mouth to ask, “and I think your story is more important right now. I had a nurse friend come over but you were healed by time she arrived. She looked you over anyways and gave you a clean bill of health. Does it still hurt?”

Your eyes went to your wrists and shook your head.

“I’ve had worse,” you promised as you started to move to the edge of the bed. Then you realized you had no idea where you are. “Did you kidnap me?”

“You’re in my apartment,” he said with a laugh.

“Yeah, that doesn’t answer my question. Seriously Daredevil-slash-blind-man, where am I and where are my clothes?”

He gestured over to a pile of dark clothes on the dresser nearby. You stood up with a groan, wavering a bit before you limped over to it. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust him, but you didn’t know him. You checked to make sure that everything was where you had left it, fingers rubbing at a char mark on the edge of the mask.

“How’d you survive that?”

His voice was soft, gently inquiring. You glanced over your shoulder at him and then back at your mask. The ache in your wrists drew away from the ache in your body.

“I’m technically hard to kill,” you said sarcastically, playing off what he had said about his blindness.

He noticed and you watched him curiously as he seemed to ponder his next step. With a short nod to himself, he stepped over to you and held his hand out.

“I’m Matt Murdock. During the day I’m a lawyer at a firm with my best friend. At night I’m Daredevil. I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

You looked between his hand and his face, those eyes that were hard to see through the tinted glasses. At least now you know why his mask didn’t have eye slots.

With a sigh you reached out and grabbed his hand for a shake.

“Y/N Y/L/N. You got any alcohol in this bachelor pad? I think I’m going to need a drink before we get into this.”

His laugh made you smile.

------

It was the first time you had ever told the whole story. And while it didn't seem to be the first time for Matt, he also seemed almost relieved to get the words out.

There was a certain freedom in having someone know it all. And he didn't seem to regard you any differently than he had before.

There was also the shared trauma of being in an orphanage. You joked that you would have picked nuns over becoming a lab rat, but you knew you both had a troubled childhood.

“So what made you decide to do this? You've been like this since a kid. How long have you been running around in a mask?”

You shifted on the couch, tucking your legs under you as you stared at the glass of bourbon he had poured for you.

The cheap stuff. Not that you cared.

“Actually I was saved by some guy in black pajamas and a mask. He didn't know what I was capable of,” you added with a grin.

Matt's mouth dropped open in surprise and you could see him racking his brain for a memory of you. He had taken off his glasses at some point during the conversation so you watched his apparently sightless eyes dart back and forth.

“I don't remember you.”

You knocked the back of your hand against his arm gently, fully aware that he could avoid the touch if he wanted to.

“I'm not offended if that's what you're worried about. Just means you save so many people that you can't keep us straight.” You paused for a moment before you continued. “I want to thank you for that. Not just for saving me, although that's pretty awesome. But because you're the reason I do what I do.”

It wasn't that you thought that he would be blown away by the sentiment but you did notice that he looked relatively crestfallen once you'd spoken.

“I don't take that as a compliment,” he said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I do this so that other people won't have to.”

You turned to place your feet flat on the floor, straightening your spine as you did.

“I don't do this because I have to. I do this because I can and someone should. I'm like this for a reason.”

“But your reason doesn't have to be this,” he explained as he gestured to your wrists.

“You think those people that performed the experiments on me as a kid did it because it was going to help me? They preyed on foster kids because no one would care if we didn't make it out.”

You stood up and paced, unable to take the lack of movement any longer.

“The people that did this to me were criminals. Whatever they wanted me for was probably not good. I was created for the wrong reasons. So if I want to use my new abilities for good, who are you to tell me that's wrong?”

You turned to face Matt who had followed your trek. He had listened intently to your rant. At that point he nodded and stood up, taking a step towards you as he did.

“I always told myself that God made me this way for a reason,” he said simply as he gestured to his eyes. “The way I am now and what I'm capable of? It gives me the opportunity to help those in need. I shouldn't judge you for feeling the exact same way.”

He seemed so sincere. You turned away from him and looked out of the wide windows, biting your bottom lip.

The hours had stretched on since you had met him on the roof the night before. Now the sun was starting to make its presence known through the buildings.

The illuminated sign seemed duller in the growing light. You'd noticed it when you first came to in his apartment but you hadn't gotten a good look until now.

You knew around where you must have been located at least.

“I'm not asking your permission to do this. I know what the danger is and I know what I'm capable of. I jumped out of that window knowing that I might not make it.”

“But you did,” he said as he moved up to stand beside you. “You made it and you saved a lot of people in the process.”

You rubbed a hand over your wrist, the feeling of the scars a grounding reminder of how you survived that fall.

“We saved them,” you said instead.

------

You hadn't seen the gun. You had just taken out three men who were suspected of human trafficking, using your staff to knock them unconscious. As you tugged out the zip tie cuffs you usually used to restrain the people you caught, you heard a noise behind you.

It'd been almost a month since you found out who Daredevil was. Almost a month and in that time you had seen him almost every night that you put on the mask. It made sense that you thought it was him.

With your guard down, you spun around to face Matt. Only instead you found a man dressed like his unconscious buddies.

Your first instinct was to take him down too. You spun the staff, ready to fight, but you never made it that far because you hadn't seen the gun.

The shot sounded like an explosion, the noise bouncing off the metal walls of the warehouse you were in.

First there was nothing, just the noise. And then there was pain.

The man seemed surprised when you didn't immediately fall over. You gasped through the pain as you tried to stay upward.

The next shot shouldn't have surprised you. It did knock you over.

One hole in your chest, one in your stomach. The one in your chest was already starting to heal, but that didn't stop the pain you felt.

The shooter walked up and peered down at you. He tilted his head as he looked you over, probably not sure what he was looking at. You watched through blurry eyes as he aimed the gun at your head.

With another ringing gunshot, everything went dark.

------

The thought of showing up unannounced made you feel a little vulnerable, but right then you didn't mind. You wiped at your face and prayed that there wasn't any left over blood, but you hadn't exactly stopped to check a mirror.

It'd only been a few moments since you had knocked but you raised your fist to do it again. Instead the door swung open and you were faced with a panicked looking Matt.

“Get in here,” he said as he dragged you in by your arm. “I could smell the blood through the door. What the hell happened?”

He was wearing sweats so obviously he hadn't been out tonight. Or he had already come back home.

You let him guide you to his couch. Then he felt around to check that you were in one piece. His hands were warm as they brushed your face and then your chest.

You grabbed his hands before they went to your stomach, your fingers linking with his almost immediately.

“I think you may have had a point when you said that I shouldn't do this alone,” you said as you squeezed his hands.

“What happened?”

With his hands in yours, you explained that you'd been taking down some traffickers when you realized there was a fourth one. You relived the moment of being shot three times, the aches making it hard to catch your breath.

“I knew I'd heal from the one to my chest and my stomach because I've done it before,” you explained quietly, eyes locked on your clasped hands. “But I didn't know if I'd survive a shot to the head point blank.”

“Y/N,” he said as he reached you to cup your cheek.

“In that instant before he pulled the trigger, I couldn't help but think that was it and I was about to die. And the last thing I thought was that I didn't want to go without telling you…”

You hesitated then, unsure how to word it without making a fool of yourself. But the look on his face made you feel calmer than you had any right to be.

He felt it too.

Instead of finishing your sentence, you simply leaned in and pressed your mouth against his. It was a kiss full of desperation and longing, but it filled you with such joy.

You'd never thought you'd have something like this. Because of who you were, you always thought you would end up having to hide a part of yourself. You never dreamed you could find someone who would know all about you and not pull away.

And Matt was definitely not pulling away. In fact he was tugging you closer, his mouth moving against yours eagerly.

Having another mask ruined was worth it for this moment.

------

There were too many for you to take on by yourself. You spun your staff around as you looked at the people surrounding you.

Way too many for you to take on alone. Good thing you weren't alone.

In the instant that Daredevil appeared, you struck out and attacked. The two of you worked together flawlessly, dropping armed thug after armed thug.

The two of you had developed quite the reputation on the streets for being capable and even ruthless at times. It was also well known that where one of you were, the other was soon to follow.

Apart you were both fearsome opponents. Together you were a force to be reckoned with.

No criminal stood a chance against Daredevil and the Woman Without Fear.

X

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[barapoe]

08/26/17

okie dokes, i think i’m gonna keep a log of mental well being here, as sort of like an online diary ;D you can read it if you feel like, or not, doesn’t matter to me! i’ll probably tag as feel free to read! posts like these will be under a readmore 

and i won’t include names or initials or anything unless i find it totally necessary! 

yesterday was my second ex’s birthday (counting ex’s back to the beginning of the summer) and i think i handled it pretty well though there were definitely thoughts of things like “i better do this, that, and the third harmful behavior” i.e. drinking/smoking (because robert is probably getting drunk/high too and since i couldn’t break up with him, i can at least get drunker/higher than him), or sex (since he broke up with me because of how much sex i had before we started dating) 

which is totally stupid in retrospect, because i shouldn’t allow myself to be controlled by other people like that - if i get drunk/high, it should be of my own volition; if i have sex, it’s cause i wanted to have sex.

i had a friend over and we got drunk and hella high. he left and i messaged this guy on okc and we almooost met up for a hookup (though, i gotta say he made a rape joke? i honestly have difficulty interpreting some of his messages, “haha”s can really change things up if they’re sarcastic or not) but then i fell asleep LOL at twelve or one like a baby, and woke up around 3 to a message from this one guy i really like!!!

beginning of many tangents (can skip to the end of it, at “TO SUM:” because it’s a lot of rambling) : 

now here’s the thing that i can’t decide for myself. do i actually like this person or am i rebounding? i’ve had a couple of chances now to rebound. i rebounded with this one guy but we stopped dating because we didn’t really know each other much at all, and this one guy i rejected because i wasn’t really attracted to him, and i started liking this one guy but i didn’t think he was into me - and really that’s the key. i don’t know whether or not i like this person i’m talking to now or if i’m just confusing that with attraction. because i don’t know them. i like the air they give off - i’m attracted to how they talk, and their overall demeanor, and i’ve only hung out with him literally once yet i get so upset when he doesn’t give me attention/send me snaps/ask to meet up (but he’s been so busy with his family, and he just came out of the hospital yesterday, and he has messaged me almost everyday since we met in person and ohmygod this was the cutest thing he sprayed my pillow with his cologne i was like LOL that’s adorable). 

(but one thing that also really gets me is when people i like give other people i know in my snaps attention LMAO that makes me so upset, also note: everytime i mention i get upset over something, i’m probably crying like a bitch and lmfao i know i’ve cried almost everyday for the past three or so weeks [excluding my trip last week to new york which was fantastic!!! i got to see one of my best buddies from sixth grade for the first time in real life!!!] because of my second ex it’s so lame i’ll be sitting there doing my makeup and then i’ll start sobbing like what is wrong with me, i just end up hating myself so much during those moments - gotta be more gently with myself)

but idk if all this is just me wanting that person specifically to give me attention, or if it’s because i ultimately feel absolutely disgusted with myself perpetually, physical appearance-wise, personality-wise, action-wise, &c &c. like, would it matter who was giving me the attention? is the only stipulation there that i be attracted to them? 

though, to be honest, i sort of seek attention from people i’m not really attracted to too. i’ll consider them friends and i’ll have sex with them (i guess in exchange for that attention, or for drugs/alcohol, or both - definitely both, because i hooked up with this one guy who gave me an attention that didn’t fulfill any of my emotional drives and i told him never to talk to me again, though i think if he got me something of perceived equal or higher value to the emotional turmoil i could have experienced at his hands, i would’ve contacted him again) but they’re not romantic interests like i do the guys that i quote-unquote like. 

and it ultimately ties into the fact that i don’t know whether or not i ever truly liked my second ex. he tells me he treated me horribly, but then the main thing i think of is the fact that he voluntarily cuddled me after sex in the absolute cutest koala-y way, and i just can’t bring myself to think that he had treated me bad in any way. (especially given the fact that he cuddled my like so when my open relationship with my first ex was going down the fucking drains and into a radioactive wasteland) 

okay, okay, so i had to reach and that’s proof enough that i’m misguided, but now i do remember the first time me having sex with other people really came up when we were both hanging out with a friend of mine that i had participated in an orgy with (a little part of me sort of weirdly endearingly, partially spitefully, thinks “you are the cause of my breakup”) and sometime after that friend left (that day, the following day? idk), my second ex got ridiculously day drunk and we cried a lot a lot a lot about how he felt about my sex life. the implication that he thought i was a whore, something he didn’t disagree with. (and then when he drunk texted me oh. my. god. whyyy am i still upset over this guy?) 

and then maybe you can consider it treating me badly when he breaks up with me because of my sex life (note: i should not be calling myself a whore, as much as i’d like to reclaim that term there is a marked difference between reclaiming it and using it to degrade myself - if i feel sad when i call myself a whore, then i should not call myself a whore) though it’s difficult to think that, especially after conversations with my dad about how people will perceive me when i do have sex with a number of people. (i haven’t even had that much sex, compared to some, and it makes me so frustrated) ‘cause it’s true! people do perceive you differently when you’ve had tons of sex! doesn’t mean that they should perceive you differently, cause in the ideal world that double standard wouldn’t exist, but it totally does.  

i enjoy sex on a number of different levels: 

as a means of validating myself, confirming tangibly that i am attractive, people like me (though one night stands aren’t the best way to confirm people like you, and i feel like i don’t have many friends here though really that’s more self-imposed than anything else) 

to have a good time, cause sex is just fun lmfao especially when you’re doing it with someone who’s a good kisser/eats pussy LMAO it’s nice to get away and focus on another person and perform something physical 

to get at my first and second exes, prove not only to myself that i’m pretty and can move on but also to them 

(1) is definitely why i won’t stop having sex altogether, i kind of need it lmfao, and (2) is definitely why i will not stop having sex kind of riskily/gratuitously, no matter what people think of me. i like sex lmfao i’m a nympho and i feel like there’s nothing wrong with getting validation! (i just gotta be safer with it)  TO SUM:  do i actually like this person or am i just attracted/infatuated with this person? is it a matter of rebounding? i think: i actually like this person tbh or i’m really attracted to them and i could very easily come to genuinely like this person as we get to know each other. 

did i like my second ex or did i like the feeling of love he gave to me? i think: both. i don’t think i would be nearly as upset about this if i didn’t genuinely like him - seeming to me, he gave me every reason to like him. and i think that’s my final response to that. 

i hate/want to hate people who treat me like dirt/make me feel bad about myself an overwhelming amount of times and i will stop liking said people nigh immediately once i realise what’s going on to protect myself. this was the case with my first ex, and has been the case with anyone i’ve met since my second ex, but with my second ex i never came to the conclusion that he gave me a reason to dislike him - recovery from him is searching for a reason not to like him, or finding someone new to like just as much

my second ex broke up with me straight up because of the sex double standard, but despite this i’m going to continue to have sex. gotta keep my “snapchat first, meet after” rule checked though, no need to rush into things even if i’m sad and in extra need of validation/fun times.  

end of many tangents!

so this one guy i really like right now came out of the hospital yesterday and said he wanted to meet up today!! i’m so excited LMAO!! the past couple of days since we met when i’ve slept during the day, it was because i wanted time to go faster between his snapchats lmfao! i felt really sad when he wasn’t messaging me a whole ton and definitely thought he didn’t like me at all (before i knew he was in the hospital or visiting family, though no lie there will be an irrational bit of me that’s like “what if he’s lying???” so though i didn’t really want to, to protect myself and to keep myself from getting too attached, i’ve still been talking with people on okc - we’re not dating or anything, but it doesn’t feel great to like someone and have sex with other people)  

so i’m basically having one of the happier days i’ve had pre/post-new york trip! especially now that my head has adjusted to my medicine being back in my system. LOL standards are soOO high when you can say that you didn’t cry within the first hour of being awake (or at all so far!!! WOO) and that’s a sign of good wellbeing! 

i’m preparing myself for plans to meet up not to come through and i’m not entirely sure how i’ll react but i’m 66.7% certain i won’t do anything besides drink some! or maybe meet up with this other guy i was talking to? it won’t be desperate, is what i’m saying, lmfaooo! i feel much more in control of my emotions than i have been in a looong while!