#something something time paradox later they’re gone now :(

[h3lgertime]

If I told you that I made this shit up when I was eight would you believe me

This is Benjamin. He might get his own card, he might not. He’s the first antagonist I’ve ever made next to Permetheon and whatever I was doing with the Fairies and Dreamers. Anyways, Benjamin would randomly appear somewhere and screw things up, and it was down to some children to kick him back to his house. I haven’t thought about him in a while actually until I had to go through some old stuff, so here he is now.

No thoughts, head empty, full of soup.

[their-destinys-writer]

Akuma Flashpoint - Chapter 4

Rated: M

Chapters: 4/?

Chapter Summary: Marinette and Alya finally get to talk.

Info: Canon compliant up to Season 3, Episode 'Ladybug'. Miracle Queen never happened. Canon divergent from that point forward, but might borrow a few details from later seasons. Very loosely inspired by DC's Flashpoint Paradox (the animated movie). Updates on the last Monday of every month.

Ao3 | Wattpad

A/N: Merry Christmas! Have a new chapter as a gift.

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The Recruit

It had been a long morning and midday, and yet Marinette still felt lost. To figure out the right thing to say for the now dreaded breakfast, she had to ask about her history with Adrien in this timeline. And it sure was… interesting. Starting with the fact that they got together when they were fourteen, instead of sixteen. Apparently, since he never fell in love with Ladybug, it opened the door for him to instantly fall for her civilian identity instead.

That was one what-if scenario she never knew she would get the answer to. Not that she had ever actually wanted to know. But it also meant Lila was Adrien’s second girlfriend, meaning she shouldn’t underestimate the importance Lila had acquired for him in this timeline.

Another awful revelation was that he was the one to break things off. According to Tikki, their communication suffered greatly after Nino passed away, and this timeline’s Marinette didn’t want to fight for the relationship, blaming herself for what happened. After that, she distanced herself from everyone, resulting in Adrien giving up in the relationship.

But every now and then, she would drunk-dial Adrien to tell him how much she cared about him and that she was glad he was alive. Among other things Tikki wouldn’t divulge. As for his relationship with Lila, that was a more recent development. Something that started between four to five months prior. And apparently, Marinette did not take it well at all, ending up at his doorstep, drunk and sobbing.

“That’s so embarrassing,” Marinette whined, dragging her hands down her face. “No wonder he’s pissed. I’m a total disaster.”

“More like cripplingly depressed,” Tikki said with a cringe.

“And borderline alcoholic,” Marinette pointed out, as she checked her phone again. “I have so many calls made to Adrien in this phone. At least three times a week. Why was I drunk three times a week?!”

“Well—”

“You know what? I don’t need to know,” Marinette intervened. “On the bright side, that gives me a few ideas of what I can say to them.”

“Really? Already?”

“It’s obvious I had a drinking problem before I got here, so what do alcoholics do when they’re finally ready to get their life back together?” Tikki shrugged. “They admit they have a problem and, somewhere along the line, they make amends. I can start by jumping to those amends. I just have to convince them that this was something I had already been thinking about for a while.”

“Oh!” Tikki said excitedly. “Simple!”

“Mhm,” Marinette nodded. “So, now that that’s settled, I just have to make sure I don’t mess it up. And in the meantime, I can try to figure out how to fix everything.”

“May I ask, how will you know when something or someone was responsible for changing everything?”

“Unfortunately, I think that’s something I’ll figure out along the way,” Marinette admitted.

“Is that why you still made a plan for tomorrow? Even though you hope to find the akuma before then?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Because I have absolutely no idea who The Genie could be, and I’m not even sure she knows I’m here. There’s a chance this might not have been part of her plan. And if that’s the case, she has no reason to suddenly show up.”

“Wouldn’t we have noticed someone walking around in blue skin, though?”

“That’s the part that I least understand.” Marinette started pacing in the small room. “Surely someone like that would’ve stood out by now. And I also don’t think she would’ve gone through all the trouble of time travel if this timeline didn’t end up benefiting her in some way. She did say something about getting her wish. Maybe Adrien not being Chat Noir triggered a better life for her.”

“That implies that she’s been here the whole time since he lost his miraculous.”

“She could have.” Marinette tapped her lip. “She was able to become somewhat invisible during our fight. Maybe she can change her appearance and make herself look normal.”

“But that would mean she could be anybody!” Tikki gasped.

“It would explain how no one has ever seen her. Or even suspected that she’s akumatized.”

“Did you ever figure out her akumatized object?”

Marinette stopped on her tracks, thinking back to that last fight. She wracked her brain, searching for a clue, but she couldn’t remember. Genie didn’t ever seem to use anything to make her wishes true, or even her movements possible. She just willed everything. Like a cartoon genie.

“I didn’t,” she sighed. “All I remember is her tacky and culturally insensitive costume, and a bright light before I woke up here. Nothing really stood out from her. It happens sometimes with willing akumas. They’re always harder to beat. But this one really takes the cake in difficulty.”

“Is that why you’re looking for a pattern?” Tikki asked.

“Exactly. Well, not necessarily a pattern, but any clue—”

Marinette’s phone vibrated. A quick look into it revealed an unknown name.

“Who’s Mrs. Boche?”

“Oh no, your work,” Tikki slowly placed her paws on her cheeks.

“Ah. I’m guessing she’s my boss?” Marinette asked, to which Tikki nodded. “That’s fine, I’ll just tell her I’m not feeling well.”

“She might chew you out for that,” the kwami warned.

Marinette let out a long sigh. It sounded like she had already used that excuse too many times. Nevertheless, if she got fired, so be it. She was hoping to not spend enough time in this reality that finances would become a problem.

“Hello?” she responded to the call.

“What happened to you today?” a woman with a demanding—and slightly intimidating—voice said from the speaker.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Boche, I’m not feeling well today,” Marinette excused herself.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I cannot keep accepting your excuses anymore,” Mrs. Boche said. “It’s the fifth time this month already. If you’re not willing to do something about it, I’m afraid I can’t keep you in our team. And you know that would mean termination. You understand that?”

Marinette gulped. She may have never worked for this person, but that tone made her feel ashamed for something she didn’t even do.

“I understand,” she responded in a small voice. “I promise not to let it happen again.”

“I’m tired of your excuses,” Mrs. Boche huffed. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t send you a letter of termination right this second.”

Marinette opened her mouth to give another plausible excuse, but immediately closed it. Considering how she had managed to balance work and being a superhero in her reality, she had a feeling her absences had nothing to do with that. This universe’s Marinette was clearly going through a lot, meaning what was really wrong was a health issue, and not a superhero one.

“I have no good reason to give, Mrs. Boche,” she responded as professionally as she could with missing context. “I clearly haven’t been well for some time, and I’ve made a lot of mistakes. The best I can do is say that I will be seeking the help I need, and that if I were to continue under your employment, I would do my best to not slip up again. However, if you understand I have exhausted my chances, I will respectfully accept your decision and wish the company the best.”

There was silence from the other side of the line. Marinette exchanged a look with Tikki, wondering if she said something she shouldn’t have. Or maybe she had already given a similar excuse in the past. But Tikki’s expression was hard to read.

“You better walk through that door tomorrow,” Mrs. Boche finally said. “I hope you feel better.”

The call ended. Marinette let out a breath, glad that if it took longer than expected, she would at least not die of starvation. However, it had the downside of cutting into the time she would need to find The Genie.

“Is she a bad boss?” she asked Tikki.

“I don’t think she is,” Tikki responded. “I think it’s more that you’re a bad employee.”

“Sounds about right,” Marinette muttered. “Ugh, this is starting to become more complicated than I expected. Now I need to catch up on anything that has to do with work. Though, it can’t be that different from the job in my reality, right?”

“You didn’t know who Mrs. Boche is,” Tikki pointed out.

Marinette let out a drawn-out groan, as she dragged her hands down her face. The miraculous, Adrien, Alya, work, it was a lot she had to figure out and come up with solutions in order to maximize her time to find The Genie. And the more things continued to pile up, the more it was starting to look like she might be stuck for several days.

“I need help, fast,” she admitted. “I can’t do this on my own. I need to find a way to convince Alya to help me as soon as possible. Does she patrol often?”

“She does,” Tikki said. “I know I said we can try to convince her, but after this morning, I don’t see her helping you very soon. She might need time before you ask her.”

“I have to try.” Marinette turned back to the corkboard, already interrupted several times from being continued. Without another word, she added Gabriel’s and Nathalie’s pictures on the upper-right corner of the board, plus the miraculouses they owned. “Any miraculous we do know who has them?”

“I know Mayura has the mouse miraculous. Hawkmoth definitely has the dragon and pig miraculous. The rest, I don’t know who has which.”

With a hum, Marinette placed the mentioned miraculous under its respective thieves. Slightly lower, she placed the rest of the drawings and added the word ‘stolen’ over them, merely to identify them as not in her possession.

“Did I ever make a proper investigation about these?” she asked, to which Tikki nodded. At least that was one thing she did right in this reality. “Okay then. That’s as much as I can do with that.” As she looked at what she had so far, her brows furrowed. “You said we lost the box. What… What happened to Master Fu?”

There was silence. Marinette turned slightly towards Tikki, only to find her looking away, eyes becoming glassy.

“No,” Marinette breathed.

“It happened two months before Nino passed,” Tikki said quietly. “He didn’t even get the chance to relinquish his guardianship before he…”

Before he died, Marinette finished internally, feeling her eyes well up once again. Her gaze turned down to the desk, mindlessly landing on Master Fu’s picture and a piece of paper with the word Deceased on it.

“Who did it?” she asked.

“The sentimonster active at the time,” Tikki explained. “Or at least, that’s what we think. There was also an akuma, and Hawkmoth and Mayura weren’t very far from him. It could have been any of them, but the sentimonster was closest.”

“Was it the same with Nino?” Tikki nodded. Marinette let out a shuddered breath as she proceeded to add Master Fu on the corkboard, close to Nino’s picture. “I really hate it here.” As she looked back at the desk, she realized there was one miraculous left. “Whatever happened to the black cat miraculous is still a mystery, right?”

Tikki nodded again. So, Marinette proceeded to place the picture of the ring isolated in its own corner, with the word Lost. Further right to it, she added pictures of Adrien and Lila, making a face of disgust as she did. Underneath their pictures she added: Untrustworthy.

“I’ve never in my life thought of Adrien as someone I can’t trust,” she said quietly. “I can’t believe I just associated that word with him. It feels so surreal.”

“But he did lose his miraculous,” Tikki reminded her.

“I know, I know.” Marinette swallowed, her stomach making a nasty lurch at the thought of him with Lila. “I think I’m going to need a break.”

“Are you okay?”

Marinette shook her head, as she sat at a nearby chaise. In fact, it seemed to be the same chaise that had been in her room at her parents’ apartment. She must’ve salvaged it from the destruction. Yet she couldn’t salvage her relationship with Adrien? The thought made her nauseous. Just imagining those nasty claws of Lila caressing his arms, it sent a cold shudder through her body.

“What’s wrong?” Tikki asked.

“I just need to remind myself that this reality will cease to exist,” Marinette whispered. “And everything that’s happened here will fade like a bad dream. All of you won’t even remember it. Please distract me, Tikki.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, um… The rest of the core team. Chloé, Kagami and Luka. Where are they?”

“Oh.” Tikki tilted her head. “Well, Chloé and Kagami are not in Paris.”

“What? Why?”

“They’re with their mothers. Chloé in New York and Kagami in Japan.”

“Why? Their mothers are awful.”

“Maybe so. But you weren’t exactly close to them to—OH! Marinette, look!”

Tikki grabbed Marinette’s cheek, pushing her to see through the window. A speck of orange was visible over the city’s rooftops. Marinette sprang to her feet, ready to transform.

“Any advice on getting her to my side quickly?”

“Just blurt out whatever you think might get her attention,” Tikki said.

Marinette looked back at the corkboard. “I think I have just the thing. Tikki, transform me!”

The light had barely finished washing through her body, when Ladybug was jumping out the window, swinging her way across the city as fast as she could. Although it was only an hour after midday, the sky was dark with heavy rain clouds. Nevertheless, Ladybug wasn’t letting the opportunity slip through her fingers.

She landed on the edge of a tall apartment building to survey the area she had seen the speck of orange. But it was like it vanished into thin air.

“Dammit,” Ladybug cussed. “Where are you? I just saw you.”

“You’re unbelievable,” a voice said behind her. Turning around, she saw the very person she had been looking for. “What part of ‘fuck you, Marinette’ do you not understand?”

“Hey, Alya. Um, Rena Rouge.” Ladybug held her hands together.

“You go looking for me one more time, and those earrings are coming off,” Rena Rouge threatened.

“I’m sorry,” Ladybug loudly said, taking Rena Rouge aback. “I’m very sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“Oh, save it,” Rena Rouge spat. “I don’t care for your pity. I just need you to stay the hell away from me. I thought that I had made myself clear.”

“Yes, and I understand that. But—”

“But nothing,” Rena Rouge growled. “You don’t get to decide what I need. Much less after the display you pulled today. Just get out of my life!”

She turned around, about to leave, so Ladybug made a last desperate attempt at retaining her.

“Nino’s alive!” Ladybug shouted. And to her relief, it had the desired effect, for Rena Rouge stopped dead on her tracks.

“What did you just say?” She turned her head to the side.

“I-In my timeline,” Ladybug continued, hoping Rena wouldn’t change her mind. “This reality, it’s not what it’s supposed to be. I’m not who you think I am, I’m not the Marinette you’ve known, I’m from a reality where Nino is alive and we won. But an akuma caused this and I need your help setting it right.”

Ladybug could see Rena’s breathing accelerated. She wondered if it was enough, or if the damage had been too much. Rena Rouge opened her mouth slightly, but no words came from it. Perhaps it was time to push her luck.

“I know you don’t have many reasons to believe me, but don’t you think I was too oblivious this morning for it to just be a hangover?” She continued. “As awful as I’m sure I’ve been in this timeline, I doubt I’d go as far as being cruel. So there would have been no reason for me to bring up Nino, unless I had no idea he passed away. And trust me, that’s something I would never forget. I know it’s hard to believe me, but please give me a chance to explain everything.”

“How can I know if you’re telling the truth?”

Ladybug pressed her lips together. “You don’t,” she said. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me.”

“That’s not good enough,” Rena interrupted. “Unless you can provide proof, I can’t get my hopes up by your word alone. I also don’t understand why it has to be me. Seems convenient.”

“You’re the only one of my team left with a miraculous and not dating one of my enemies.”

The wind blew past them, the smell of approaching rain filling Ladybug’s nostrils as she waited for a response. When Rena Rouge turned back ahead, she said at last: “I don’t buy it.”

A mournful breath left Ladybug’s lips, just as her transformation collapsed without warning.

“SHE’S TELLING THE TRUTH!” Tikki screamed. The fox hero turned on her heels, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Marinette attempted to call her back, but was ignored by the kwami. “Please believe me. She’s not our Marinette. There’s a reality out there where I still get to see Plagg. But we need to beat the akuma for it to come back, for our lives to be out of this awful place without the ones we love. Please, I’m begging you, Rena Rouge, please help us!”

Marinette could feel her eyes well up for the hundredth time that day. After eight years as a team, she had never seen Tikki in so much anguish. She couldn’t help but reach out and hold the small goddess as she sobbed.

“Tell me everything,” the voice of Rena Rouge demanded.

* * *

The rain was falling hard against the windows of the café, as Marinette finished telling Alya everything about her arrival to this reality. She waited with bated breath, as her best friend removed her hands from her temples.

“So,” Alya said after catching her breath, “you’re saying that Chat Noir not being around as your partner derailed our entire existence?”

“Pretty much,” Marinette sighed, as she took a sip of her coffee.

“Damn,” Alya scoffed. “I would say you’re full of shit, but I had never seen Tikki vouch for you like that.”

“Yeah, I noticed how unhappy people are with me,” Marinette said quietly. “I’m sorry this timeline’s version of me made you guys go through such hard times.”

“Hmm.” Alya brought the tea to her lips, hesitant. “I mean,” she started, “I guess, to be fair, you were going through a hard time yourself, you know, having literally no one to lean on. If I had known about your parents…”

“It’s still not an excuse to act unkind,” Marinette insisted.

“Look, what matters is what’s happening now,” Alya interjected, landing the cup of tea on the table. “You said you can fix this. Now tell me how.”

“Okay, so you know how I have to defeat a villain in order to fix all the damage they made, right?”

“The thing I learned today, yes.”

Marinette winced. “Right. I need to find The Genie in this timeline and defeat her. Once I free her of her akuma, I can purify it and revert this reality she created.”

“Even if you do purify the akuma, how are you so sure the Miraculous Cure can bring back an entire reality that’s currently lost.”

“I once brought back a temple that had been lost for over a hundred years by purifying an amok,” Marinette stated. “If I can do that, I can bring back a lost reality. Which I’m sure is not a hundred percent lost. I just need to find that akuma.”

“And you said you don’t think she looks like an akuma currently,” Alya added skeptically.

“Right,” Marinette sighed. “Considering she can change an entire reality, I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to assume she can also change her appearance. Otherwise, someone would’ve seen her by now.”

“Good point,” Alya muttered, before raising her voice slightly. “So, what’s the plan? If you have one.”

“I started making a board to figure out everything that’s different in this timeline and where the heroes and villains are. Obviously, I know exactly where Gabriel is, but I don’t know much about Ms. Sancoeur. And I can’t take their miraculouses yet, or The Genie will figure out I have my old memories.”

“Good call. Okay, so, that’s the villains. Does that mean you know who Chat Noir is and where to find him?”

Marinette pressed her lips. “I do. But… Ugh, I can’t trust him here,” she admitted. “I already bumped into him, and he was so hateful towards me. Well, Marinette me, at least. I think he wouldn’t believe me if I tell him everything, so right now, he’ll be staying in the dark.”

“So you know who he is!” Alya said, edging her seat. Marinette nodded. “I would love to know the identity of the coward who abandoned you.”

“If you want to know just to kick his ass, I’m afraid that information is currently off-limits.”

“Come on—”

“And like I said before,” Marinette interrupted, “whatever the reason that he’s no longer Chat Noir, I know it wasn’t his choice. He loves being Chat Noir more than anything, and I know he would never give it up unless he thought it was a matter of life or death.”

“If you say so,” Alya sighed, sitting back while drinking some more of her tea. “What about the other heroes you mentioned?”

“Well, I got you, so that is my biggest relief,” Marinette said. “I know now what happened to Carapace. What I don’t know is about his miraculous—”

“I have it,” Alya responded.

“Oh. Good then,” Marinette let out a breath of relief. “So that’s another miraculous Gabriel and Ms. Sancoeur don’t have. Anyway, the bee holder is not in France, and neither is the dragon holder. So that leaves the holder of the snake miraculous, but that was where I left off.”

“You thinking of bringing them in?”

“I’ve considered it, yes,” Marinette confirmed. “Out of the entire team, he was always the most levelheaded one. Of course, I don’t have the snake miraculous, so the bee will have to do. But I have no idea where to find him, and I don’t have his number in my phone, for some reason. So I need you to help me make contact.”

“Why me? Wait, do I know him?”

“Yes, Luka.”

“Luka?!”

“Yeah, I thought about calling Juleka or Rose, but I don’t wanna come off a bit weird, since I don’t know—”

“Waitwait, time-out.” Alya made the gesture she said. “You’re telling me, of all the people in the entire city, you choose Luka? Luka?”

“He’s basically part of the core team,” Marinette argued. “He was one of the firsts I trusted with my identity, he recognizes the importance of teamwork, has the most patience out of all the holders, and even had to wear the black cat miraculous once. I know he can do—”

“He’s in rehab,” Alya interjected.

The coffee cup landed loudly on the table. Marinette’s mouth hung open, right where she left off her sentence.

“He’s… WHAT?!”

“Ow,” Alya winced, covering one of her ears.

“What do you mean he’s in rehab?!”

“I mean,” Alya said, pointedly lowering her voice, “he decided to get clean after Juleka woke up from her coma.”

“Juleka was in a—God, why do I even question anything in this timeline.” Marinette dragged her hands down her face, attempting to get her tone several octanes lower, yet failing miserably. “This is literally my worst nightmare. And everyone else’s it seems!” Marinette grabbed at her hair. “I-I… I don’t have a team. I literally have zero core members available outside of you. I mean, unless… How long has Luka been in rehab?”

Alya blinked. “Don’t even think about it.”

“He’s our best shot.”

“He’s an addict. The last thing he needs is stress.”

“Or maybe he needs to be trusted. And a support system.”

“No, he can’t be around you,” Tikki interjected, poking out of Marinette’s purse that was sitting on the table.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Marinette groaned.

“You two have a history together,” Tikki explained.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a big deal. He’s my ex-boyfriend in my timeline, too.”

“Wow, your timeline sounds fascinating,” Alya said, resting her chin on both her hands. “So you actually dated Luka in your timeline.”

“I—Wait, I’m confused.” Marinette said. “Tikki just said we have a history, but you’re acting like this is new information.”

“Alya doesn’t know,” Tikki cleared up.

“Know what?” Marinette and Alya said in unison, the former concerned while the latter excited.

“Before Luka went to rehab, you two had a… I think what you call a fling?”

“Okay?”

“Oooh.”

Marinette and Alya said in unison.

“It didn’t end very well,” Tikki finished, tucking back into the purse.

“Of course it didn’t,” Marinette deadpanned. “Though, to be fair, things could’ve gone better in my timeline, too.”

“What happened in your timeline?” Alya asked, sitting back while sipping her tea again.

“My secret identity is what happened,” Marinette said with a tired sigh. “Eventually, it wasn’t sustainable.”

“And yet, you’re still with Adrien in that other reality?” The reporter arched a brow.

“Things are different with Adrien,” Marinette reasoned, careful not to let slip his identity. “We found a way to make it work. But that doesn’t matter, Adrien’s not part of the plan, nor is he getting a miraculous.”

“Why not?”

Marinette shifted in her seat. “I just see no reason to bring him in. The only thing I need to do with him is make sure he doesn’t get in my way. Which I’ll be doing tomorrow.”

“Whatta you mean?” Alya pried. To which Marinette explained part of her encounter with him that morning. “So, you could be delayed in your investigation because of a potential court order.”

“Yup,” her lips made a popping sound at the last letter. “If I want to reverse this mess as quickly as possible, the last thing I need is to worry about going to jail, or something of the likes. So, I will convince him and… ugh, Lila, that I’m done and that I’ll be leaving him alone.”

“You seem to dislike Lila,” Alya said, eyes squinting.

“Let’s just say she’s very different in my timeline,” Marinette limited herself to say. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I do that tomorrow so I can focus more on finding The Genie. And to do that, I need to know everything there’s to know about this timeline.”

“Does that include…” Alya gulped, “Does that include Nino’s death?”

Marinette’s gaze lowered to the already cold cup of coffee in her hands.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” she whispered. From the corner of her eye, she saw Alya’s tea land on the small plate.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Alya said quietly. “But not here.”

Marinette slowly looked back up, finding a solemn expression on Alya’s face.

“Okay,” she agreed. “We can go to my place.”

First | Previous | Next

[derekscorner]

Witchy Timed Extras

Eyes and Time

I was wrapping up my Bayonetta phase last night and figured I’d drop one small tangent. Nothing negative or nitpicky like the Bayonetta 3 posts but rather a curiosity I’ve had about Bayonetta 2 for a while.

The series story was always entertaining and far from flawless (which is why 3′s horrible writing is so damn jarring) but it was a fairly consistent duology. There’s the amnesic Bayonetta and the time displaced young Cereza from Bayonetta 1.

That resolves rather simply with Bayonetta remembering her past while Cereza’s future is altered entirely creating a new timeline that we barely see.

Then Bayonetta 2 comes along and just does this random but fulfilling 180 on the villain from the first game. Balder sacrifices his own morals and soul to trap an evil god in a time loop. It’s beautiful in a way and the extra scene at the en d of 2 even shows the first games title logo.

The timeloop creates Bayonetta 1 and that games leads into the sequel. It’s all nice and neat except for the paradox of the eyes.

Now one shouldn’t take story too seriously but it’s also best to keep in mind the story acts as the vehicle for Bayonetta’s adventures. As such I do ponder on it now and then just like I feel disappointment and disbelief that the third game could do that badly.

The paradox in question is foreshadowed in 2′s opening scene. Natural disasters are happening world wide and they’re getting worse. Jeanne appears letting you know that something feels off which Rodin later supports.

This unease is due to the Right Eye of the World being gone. It died with Balder.

In order to reclaim his eyes and godly power Loptr summons a younger Balder to the present. In doing this he’s bringing the Right Eye back into the world from the past. An era in which the right eye and it’s host still existed.

Loptr manages to steal this eye and the left eye before Loki erases them. Shortly after Loptr is sealed within Balder who is sent back to his era which will eventually lead to Bayonetta 1.

The issue left here is that Balder was from the past, 500+ years in the past, and the Right Eye he held was erased before he was sent back. As a result the past should now lack the Right Eye.

Yet he has this eye in Bayonetta 1. So knowing this I was wondering what others think? Does anyone have an explanation for that?

Did Loki only erase the eyes in the present letting Balder regain it once in the past?

Did the eyes get removed from all of time & space? Despite our feelings Bayonetta 3 and it’s multiverse exist now so this is a possibility.

This, of course, makes Bayonetta 1 entirely off since that story hinges on the Eyes existing but perhaps you guys see something I do not.

Either way, it’s late for me now, I’ll ponder temporal paradoxes later. Bye~

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For the rest of the Witchy Timez Ramblings go here: https://derekscorner.tumblr.com/tagged/Witchy-Timed

[sciencestyled]

Erwin Schrödinger and the Dreaded Catspiracy: How a Feline Fiasco Led to Quantum Computing

My dear students, allow me to recount a most curious tale, one that starts not in the esteemed halls of academia but rather in the shadowy alleyways of an accidental scientific scandal involving, yes, a cat. I never anticipated that a single feline—hypothetical, mind you—would haunt my existence like the relentless scratching on a chalkboard. Yet, here we are, years later, with my name more synonymous with a perplexed tabby than with wave functions or particles.

It all began on a day like any other, with a routine cup of tea and a stack of physics papers I pretended to enjoy. As I innocently sipped, a headline caught my eye: “Schrödinger, Cat Murderer?” I nearly choked. Was this some sort of smear campaign orchestrated by Einstein after our infamous entanglement spat? Or worse, a prank gone too far by Heisenberg, who was likely uncertain about it the whole time anyway?

Apparently, someone took my thought experiment about a cat in a box—designed to illustrate the absurdity of quantum superposition—and ran with it. No matter how many times I explained that no actual cat was harmed (or simultaneously both harmed and not harmed, depending on your interpretation), people just couldn't let it go. Soon, I was getting letters from animal rights activists, students bringing actual cats to my lectures, and—dare I say it—an offer to sponsor my work from a cat food company. It was a nightmare. I became the world's most infamous quantum villain.

Faced with this feline fiasco, I knew I had to redirect my legacy. I needed something grander, something that would remind the world that I am more than just a man with a poorly conceived box experiment. Enter quantum computing—the brilliant offspring of quantum mechanics and my chance at redemption. What better way to make amends than by diving headfirst into the very paradoxes that had cursed me with eternal feline infamy?

So, there I was, brainstorming ideas to shift the conversation. “Erwin Schrödinger: The Quantum Hero?” Nah, too pretentious. “Schrödinger’s Computer: Now with 100% Less Cats?” That one had potential, but the marketing team hated it. Finally, I landed on quantum computing itself. You see, it’s all about qubits, superposition, entanglement—the usual quantum weirdness, but this time without a single hypothetical cat in sight. A perfect escape.

Quantum computers, unlike our furry problem, don't live in binary states. They’re not just on or off. They, like my unfortunate cat, exist in a superposition of states until we prod them with a metaphorical stick. But—and here’s the kicker—they’re useful! A qubit, much like that poor imaginary feline, can exist in multiple states at once, which makes quantum computing a tantalizing field where one can solve problems that regular computers couldn’t even dream of. And unlike the cat, the quantum computer doesn’t come with a barrage of angry letters from the ASPCA.

The more I delved into quantum computing, the more I realized this was my ticket out of the feline labyrinth. I could reinvent myself as the father of quantum computing! Well, at least an eccentric uncle figure, given that no one person really "invented" it. And so, dear students, I embarked on this noble journey to set the record straight. No more boxes, no more kittens in quantum limbo—just pure, unadulterated quantum mechanics, where I could apply my brilliance without the need for any paws.

And that is why you now find me here, at the precipice of a new age in technology, waxing poetic about quantum gates and algorithms rather than cats. The articles you’re about to read? They are my grand attempt to reclaim my intellectual throne. Sure, I might still receive the occasional hate mail from cat lovers, but at least now I can point them toward my work on quantum computing and say, “Look! I’ve moved on!”

Let us move forward together, students. Into a world of qubits, quantum supremacy, and—most importantly—a future where no cats are trapped in a box because of bad metaphors.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 147

Time After Time/The Big Bang

“Time After Time”

Plot Description: The God of Time sends Dean back to 1944, where he is immediately arrested by the legendary Elliot Ness who, surprisingly, is also a hunter

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: we start with the boys, that is not encouraging for my survival. The only plus is knowing this is a time travel story…so, maybe?? I dunno. Maybe it’s like a weeping angels situation for me

CANTON, OHIO?? It’s funny how we will straight up claim something more than an hour away as still definitely being part of the area.

Dean, what you watch is not just called anime. I love you, but don’t lie to yourself or us. Are you allowed to say the word hentai on network television?

This house where they’re investigating (second one) is beautiful! Got a turret and stained glass

Ohhhhhh that’s the context for the “more anime or are you strictly into Dick(/dick) now?” line. Yes he means Dick Roman, billionaire turned leviathan, but also…

It’s missing Castiel hours…for me.

Lmao at Dean having to use his fingers to calculate what year it is.

Dean gets to go on all the fun field trips. Maybe this is to make up for how everyone made fun of him in the old west. He’s so flustered and excited

You’ll do what to his what, Dean?? But he does look good in 1940s attire

The switching back and forth between Dean & Elliot and Sam & Jody…it, and I’m sorry to say it, feels a little pointless to have the Sam & Jody part. MAYBE they actually contribute later, but Dean’s time traveling adventures are much more interesting

Jody and Sam reminiscing about Bobby is sweet, though

Sometimes I forget that Elliot Ness does have Cleveland ties. Then I remember that a local brewery literally has a beer named after him. WHICH IS WEIRD CONSIDERING HE WAS A PROHIBITION OFFICER. (Now I’m gonna pause the show for a search as to why they did that)

Calling it a paradox seems a bit strong…there is a word for what it is but it’s of course escaping me now. Also, the brewery owners’ mom was apparently Ness’s stenographer

Ness’s trunk arsenal gives the Winchesters’ a run for its mone

I was liking this lady who was kind of like Ness’s Bobby (maybe not in the parental figure way but the knowledgeable about how to kill so many supernatural beings way) until she went and kissed Dean out of the blue and a bit as payment for what she got for him and Ness to kill Kronos

Omg yes Dean. Sending Sam messages on the floorboards from the past. I love it

Not me being like “OH?? THAT day??” when Sam pointed out that Dean’s letter was written on November 5, 1944

Oh so we have a case of Schrödinger’s Dean. He’s alive in 1944, but he’s also dead now, but he hasn’t been born yet in 1944, but also Sam and Jody are still trying to get him back. It’s all very wibbly wobbly timey wimey…stuff. Remember when this was just a show about two brothers trying to find their dad and killing monsters on the way?

Well that was wonderfully ominous. “You’re future is covered in thick, black ooze”

“The Big Bang”

Plot Description: The Doctor is gone, the universe is collapsing, and the only hope lies in a little girl

I remember this one as the fun half (with the exception of the speech to stall the attack), let’s see if I’ve remembered correctly

Little Amyyyyyyy. You know, I never picked up on the fact that she is PRAYING to SANTA. Like…it’s one thing to try to get his attention near Easter, but praying is a bit far. Also…does she think he goes into hibernation? She said it’s Easter now so I hope I didn’t wake you…

☹️☹️☹️ the Doctor didn’t come in this timeline

I wouldn’t want to live in this timeline. How can you live with no stars in the night sky?? Especially if you know they’re supposed to be there, but no one else does

The fact that the Pandorica is just in a museum now…

Man, you have no idea how much I wish I could easily read that note (it just says “stick around pond” but I have a bad time reading things on tv screens)

OKAY I wasn’t crazy for remembering seeing AMY Amy in the Pandorica

Cool. Now we have Schrödinger’s Amy.

Why IS it that the Doctor getting sealed brings about the unbirth of the universe??

Oh no. THAT is terrifying. The thought that we’d definitively be alone in the universe

Rory making the choice to stay with Amy while she’s in there to guard her and keep her company ❤️❤️❤️

The fact that he made it all the way to the 1940s but potentially couldn’t make it that last 60-some (but of course he ACTUALLY did)

I love that we’re getting a very similar story in both of these episodes tonight. The Doctor’s using River’s time vortex to jump between 2000 years of time to leave notes and clues and give solutions

Oh…River being stuck in a few second time loop ☹️

The way they destroy the fez is always a good laugh

When ISNT he being completely ridiculous in one way or another?

I normally really like River, but this is the writing…it’s the writing’s fault. She’s a generic “strong female character in an action film” in this episode…who somehow still needs to be saved, who still defers to the Doctor. Fuck Moffat

Sad goodbyes that you KNOW don’t last long aren’t as good in subsequent watches

I love Amy’s wardrobe. She always has such good outfits

“We’re all stories in the end. Just make it a good one” ALWAYS a good line

Ok. Watching him say goodbye to little Amy IS still sad, but HEY! The stars are back!

(I’m watching this as leaks are starting to drop for mha and it’s just…hard to focus. Thankfully, there’s not much left)

I feel bad for both of them. Rory’s so confused why Amy’s so sad and distracted at their wedding reception, and Amy’s so fucking confused and distraught.

The rest of their wedding seems like a good time though

[baileye]

Basic dynamic in life: there is nothing meaningful enough to make you happy that could not make you sad if you lost it. This is the paradox of feeling, and it’s inherent and existential. If things inspire real positive emotion in you then they are necessarily things in which you are sufficiently invested that you would feel negative emotions when they’re gone. One of the fundamental choices that you face on Earth is the degree to which you’ll pursue deeper but riskier fulfillment or practice avoidance that exempts you from bad feelings but leaves you bereft of good ones. We all move in one direction or the other, from one day to another, certainly including me, but it feels to me as if our society is decidedly embracing the latter. Depth and intensity of feeling risk too much; Xbox and hard seltzer and HR culture anesthetize. Pop culture soothes and placates with a steady series of uncomplicated morality tales in predigested narratives where nothing ever really changes and so there’s no worry that the storyline will move in a way that hurts your feelings. Crowdsourced “content” is built on ephemerality. Ask a TikTok megafan, someone who’s totally unapologetic and proud about their love of the service: what’s a TikTok that you still come back to, a year later, two years later, three? I think the honest answer is “none.” Because like so many other things in our culture, those videos are designed to be thrown away. They can’t hurt you, but they can’t move you. They’ll never challenge you, and they’ll never inspire you. All they’re meant to do is help you pass the seconds that make up your life, a finite and precious resource.

The above image comes from this focus group conducted by The New York Times. I find it very very bleak! Here you have kids talking about why they prefer online life and identifying precisely the conditions that make me despondent: they like being online more than living their real lives because their online lives serve as an intermediary and distraction from what they don’t like about themselves and their world. They’re too young to know that you’re not supposed to admit that the point of being very online is to avoid the self. They say the quiet part out loud. Online life is more “peaceful and calming” because online you’re permitted to be a vegetable. Online you can mute yourself, render yourself an unperson, remove yourself from existence and in so doing avoid the pain of being alive. The attitudes here are indicative of young people who have been failed by the adults around them, who in addition to the responsibility to keep them alive should be forcing them to contend with the inevitability of sadness and the need to come to terms with themselves. Someone has to tell these kids, “wherever you go, you’ll find yourself there, and you have to start to do the work of accepting who you are, as much as you may not like yourself.” The stakes are high. I don’t mean to get dark here, but a kid who fantasizes about the ability to mute himself in real life is a kid I worry about someday muting himself permanently in real life.

I stress that I’m not mad about something these kids have done. I’m mad about something that’s being done to them. For profit. For profit. For profit. For profit.

[hargrieve]

let’s talk about five watching his siblings die.

by the end of season two, he has seen all of his siblings dead THREE TIMES. the last two were over the span of a few days.

the first time was of course when he time-travelled for the first time. just a few minutes after seeing his teenage siblings perfectly healthy and alive at the academy, he’s suddenly in front of the wreckage of the mansion surrounded by all of their dead adult counterparts. for the first time, he’s in a dangerous and unknown situation alone without his siblings. he spends the next 45 years of his life figuring out how to go back to save them from the apocalypse. during his entire adult life both in the apocalypse and with the commission, five never loses sight of his goal to save his family. he risks everything to go back to 2019, knowing that the commission will send assassins after him for trying to change the timeline. when the handler appears and makes him a terrible deal, he accepts it on the condition that his family survives. it’s 45 years later and five would still do ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING to save his siblings.

the second time was mere seconds after watching vanya destroy the world the first time around. five lands in dallas, hoping that his crackpot plan worked and his siblings are safe, only to find that they’re in the middle of nuclear war and the city is literally about to be obliterated with a nuke. to prevent this second doomsday, he tirelessly searches for and convinces and cajoles all of his siblings to gather together. he looks to reginald to give him advice on time travel. when that doesn’t pan out, he cuts a deal with the handler to assassinate the board, even though he clearly does not want to deal in unnecessary violence anymore. he makes an enormous personal sacrifice only to be duped into having no time at all to get everyone together with the briefcase, and then to have his siblings fail to show up again. he STILL doesn’t give up, instead deciding to go after his own past self despite knowing both the dangers of encountering himself as an assassin and all of the risks of paradox psychosis. it has now been fourteen days since he decided to jump to 2019, and (other than a couple scenes with dolores) five has had no other personal agenda except to save his uncooperative, scattered dumbasses of siblings.

the third time was at the farm, right when five thought they were safe. both of vanya’s doomsdays had been prevented; vanya had knocked out all of the commission’s agents; they had lila surrounded and diego had almost talked her down. their biggest immediate threats were gone, they were all together, and they should have been safe for the moment. instead, the handler waltzes through the door and guns down all of his siblings RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM. the handler has always been his problem, and now his siblings were all dead because he had inadvertently brought the handler into their lives. now, even as he lies dying, he again attempts something he’s never done before to save his family.

five lives through decades of hell with the singleminded goal to save his family, yet has to watch them die THREE TIMES. the worst part is that he’s alone in this experience every single time and bears the burden of witnessing their deaths by himself.

(bonus for five not being there when ben died. when he read about it in vanya’s book, he must have wondered whether he could have saved ben if he’d been able to be on that mission.)

anyway five’s character arc makes me WEEP

[frenchly-anxious]

Here’s why you (and I) have been studying the wrong way all this time - part 1

Have you ever studied hard for a test, spending all your evenings on it, feeling prepared, just to fail it spectacularly?

Have you ever been told to re-read your lessons to learn it better?

Have you ever been told after a failed test that you obviously didn’t learn despite you knowing you definitely did?

If so, I’m very sorry, it means school has failed you on something it was supposed to teach you: how to learn. And really, the fault isn’t yours.

Fasten your seatbelts my friends, we’re going on an adventure to explain why school sucks at its own fucking job!

First of all, a little experiment by Tulving. We have 2 groups and we ask them to simply read 6 times a list of 22 words. Then, we give Group 1 the same list and ask them this time to remember as many words as possible. With Group 2, same task but it’s not the same list as before.

Question time: which group will do better? Group 1 with the list they have already read 6 times, or Group 2 with a totally new list?

I can guess you’re probably telling me Group 1, right?

Well. Actually, there is no difference at all between the groups. Nothing, nada. Reading the words 6 times before didn’t give any advantage to Group 1.

What is this witchcraft, I hear you say?

Let me introduce you to the biggest misconception of our school life: reading your lesson over and over won’t help you at all.

How is that possible? Well, there’s a concept we all heard countless time, but that was never explained correctly: effort. To learn something, you need to make efforts. I’m not saying you’re not being serious when reading your lesson, not at all.

The thing is, reading is by now is a reflex for you, it doesn’t require a lot of efforts. Do you remember how hard it was to read when you were a child, or have you seen a young child trying to read? Every word is a battle, to the point that sometimes, they have finished reading but can’t remember what they read: all of their attention was on how to pronounce this group of letters, not on what they were saying.

For us, adults, reading is not something very complicated. It became a reflex, so now our attention isn’t on how to read, but on what we read. It sounds like a good thing, right? It is, but not when it comes to learning.

The action of reading isn’t complicated, and so you don’t have to be involved that much. You’re reading it, you’re understanding it; but when are you making the effort to memorize it? That’s where the problem is: reading is mostly passive, whereas learning is active.

You probably already encountered this paradox, though: the more you read your lesson, the more familiar it feels. You’re reading it and you’re like “Yeah, I remember that, and that too, and this after too”. But once in front of your exam: nothing. Or at least, not enough. This familiar feeling is just that: a feeling. Your brain is only telling you “Yeah, I already read that”, but we mistake it for “I already learned that”.

The difference is quite important, but we aren’t necessarily aware of it. So when teachers are telling us “You didn’t study”, we’re offended because we’re certain we did. Yes, we did work; but we didn’t in the right way.

Another study to prove my point (Roedinger & Karpicke, 2006):

Once again, 2 groups. My question would be: when asked to remember as much info as possible in a text, who would win?

Group 1, with 4 sessions of 5 minutes to read the text?

Or Group 2, with 5 minutes to read it and then without the text, 3 separate sessions of 5 minutes to write down as many things they can remember (without any correction from the examiners of course)?

This time, you already know where I’m going. But our instinct tells us “Obviously Group 1, they had more time!”. Which is technically true. 5 minutes after the end of that experiment, when we ask each group what they remember, Group 1 takes the lead. They get around 85% of the notions from the text, while Group 2 gets 70%. It isn’t much but it’s indeed better.

Which is great. But that’s 5 minutes after learning.

If we meet with them again 1 week later, and ask again what they do remember, Group 1 falls at barely 40% of the notions, not even half of what they learned. What about Group 2, you ask? They’re at 60%, which is very good!

The funny thing is, if asked, Group 1 will tell you how confident they feel about what they remember and that they will nail the test, while Group 2 will be saying they don’t remember a lot. Because once again, Group 1 has this feeling of familiarity about the text.

But then why is Group 2 so much better after a week?

It’s about effort.

The 5 minutes they spent reading didn’t require a lot of efforts. They understood what was written, maybe had enough time to read it a few times. Then they didn’t have the text anymore, but we asked them to write down what they remember. Once. Twice. Thrice.

During those 3 sessions, they had to make efforts. Efforts to search in their memory for what they had read. And this, contrary to reading, isn’t really easy and definitely isn’t passive.

“What did I read?” they asked themselves in front of this blank page, the text long gone. “Wait, I almost forgot this! And didn’t they talk about something else? Wait, what was it?... Oh!”

By doing so, they re-activated neurons, creating paths, reinforcing them. They did that 3 times. So their brain was like “Wait, we searched for that info multiple times, it must be important!”

Then what about Group 1, you wonder? They had 4 sessions to read it! Didn’t their brain also realize it was important?

Your brain’s goal is to automate things you need. Because if those things are automated, you don’t have to focus on them anymore, you don’t have to spend all your energy on it.

Do you remember when you learned how to ride a bike? It was hard, you fell often, but now you don’t have to think about; that’s because your brain was like “Shit, this is giving us a hard time. This is a problem, because if it takes all of our attention to just stay on the bike, we won’t be able to avoid obstacle or anything.” The solution to that is making ‘staying on the bike’ a reflex, something you know so much you don’t have to reinforce it anymore.

With Group 1, reading that text wasn’t hard. Their brain was like “meh, no problem, it doesn’t require more of my help”. If it isn’t problematic, no need for trying to automate it or make it easier.

But for Group 2, it was harder. Making the effort to try to remember what they read was very consuming in time, attention and energy. Their brain HAD to do something so it would become easier: it learned, and it learned for a longer time. Because of the repetition of that effort, because this difficulty kept appearing and being annoying in a way, their brain realized they needed to know that. Just like how you learned your phone number, your address,... You searched for it multiple times, you used it multiple times; now you don’t need to re-learn it, it’s there to stay.

So Group 1 spent 20 minutes reading a text, just to remember it for a day or two.

Group 2 also spent 20 minutes, but 5 for reading, and 15 to test themselves, and it lasted way more than a week.

Both groups did work. But one of them is obviously more efficient.

You want to learn efficiently? Leave your notes aside, and make the effort to try to remember it, even if it’s imperfect. No: especially if it’s imperfect.

Yes, I know, it seems counterintuitive. However it works incredibly well!

But that will be for a part 2...

[laylamva]

Miitopia Nuzlocke!

Okay, so I’d been doing a Miitopia Nuzlocke for a month and decided to chronicle it. Spoilers…I didn’t make it. 

Rules

If a Mii falls in battle, they’re gone for good (Unless it’s the protagonist).

I will only use the Life Sprinkle on the protagonist.

If the whole party falls in the same battle, everyone will still be counted as alive.

If a Mii is resurrected by another party member, they will be counted as alive.

If the dead Miis cost us the final boss, only then will I go back to level them up.

When a Mii dies, I will change their hair color to white, their eye color to black, and rename them “Spooky Ghost” to keep track of who I’ve lost (and also to make me feel better about sentencing my beloveds to death).

I will draw random characters from Mii Maker for every major character and decide party jobs by spinning a wheel.

The Nuzlocke ends after the main story. I cannot bring myself to care about the post-game.

If the protagonist dies on their own, the Nuzlocke is aborted.

Sabrina Raincomprix is protag/safe gorl.

WALUIGI x TEMMIE OTP (they’re the lovey-dovey couple)

Sassy Child Elmo pretending to be a dragon foreshadows Dominic.

Lenny

Dark Lord Chloé Bourgeois is fun to voice

Sabrina’s a chef.

Simone Soleil! Male Pop Star.

Before you look him up, Simone’s an OC. I put an OC in here. Help.

Every time I have played this game with Spotpass on, the freaking blobfish Mii always weasels its way in! (It’s the Nintendo Fangirl)

Got the new Zelda amiibo. Wonder if it’ll give me a costume?

IT DID!

I changed Sabrina’s eyebrows to match the Zelda wig…she looks exactly like me.

Leon Kuwata, Ultimate Mage AU

AU where Genocider Syo is a good guy who unkills people

I almost lost the Danganronpa characters, but we lost the fight.

Simone’s dead. But it’s okay, because he’s a spooky ghost.

I actually made up a “Farm Upstate” story to make myself feel better about Miis dying. “They’re not dead, they just turned into ghosts because of a cosmic paradox and can’t leave the inn as a side effect!”

Leon is at war with the moles. And also Sabrina, apparently.

On a related note, Sabrina Raincomprix and Genocider Syo BroTP???

I made Teruteru Hanamura the King. If you’ve seen all his Free Time Events, the calming fruit mission hits different.

And Sonia Nevermind is the princess. Can you tell what my current hyperfocus is?

Why does the wheel keep giving me Pop Star things? Simone’s been dead for three sessions it’s time to move on—

General Sonia killed Leon and Syo. My entire first party is DEAD.

Sabrina’s a warrior now.

Maya Aida from Glitter Force Doki Doki is my Imp.

One time when I was playing this game, I tried making a Starlow Mii from scratch, but then I realized it looked like someone different. Someone better. And now it’s all come full circle as Tonker Bell joins us as the Airheaded Cat!

Sabrina just got the Bee Armor. Suck it, Chloé!

Genie of the Lamp The Master World’s End Club

Homura Akemi as the Dancing Guide? Imagine Homura being happy.

Steve from Blue’s Clues: The Kind Thief

Steve and Tonker Bell BroTP!

tonker bell just died.

If we’re going with the “Sabrina dumped Chloé” narrative, I feel like even with two kind party members, Sabrina would keep chanting until the genie was sealed again.

Crap I bought Tonker Bell something

I LOOK AWAY FOR ONE SECOND AND NOW MAYA’S DEAD OH GOD—

Steve’s the only one left.

Ugh, scratch that.

OK, Sabrina’s on her own. If she dies, game over.

Why am I listening to Dodie music while I’m doing this? It’s making this sadder.

WHY IS MY FIRST FIGHT ALONE AGAINST HOMURA???

AND SHE’S A PAINTING I’M BONED—

I lost. The Nuzlocke is over. RIP.

So…yeah. I plan on doing this again on the Switch later, but that’s gonna go on YouTube…as soon as I can figure out how my capture card works. BTW, “Spooky Ghost” didn’t fit in the text box for Mii names, so here’s what I named them instead:

Simone: Sun Ghost

Tonker Bell: Disbelief

Maya: AngelHeart

Steve: At College

Syo and Leon were taken away before I could give them ghost names, but if I did, they would’ve been called 11037 and Genocided. And I didn’t name Ghost Sabrina because the Nuzlocke ended. But, hypothetically…Vanisher.

[sepublic]

TOH deserves better

           Y’know what?

           Now that I’ve… Had time to really focus and think and process about the news for The Owl House and its shortened Season 3, now that I’ve really dealt with other things in my life, I’m…

           I’m angry. I’m genuinely MAD…

           The Owl House has always been a comfort show for me! It’s a show I’ve loved, its characters and worldbuilding and mystery is fascinating to me and it’s inspired me! When Season 1 ended... I was excited. I was prepared. I braced myself for the story that Dana Terrace and the writers intended to tell us. I knew we had at LEAST two more full seasons to go, based on Dana’s comment about a third season.

           Season 2 would’ve been a safe season in a sense. A season where we’re in the middle of the action, where we can get onto things that have been planned and set up; But at the same time, it’s not the final season! It’s not the end. There would’ve been an entire, full season, twenty or something episodes after that. I could’ve sat back and enjoyed Season 2 in all its entirety, as another phase of the story set in the middle, and when it was all said and done, I could speculate and hope and wish and think about this final third season; Assuming we wouldn’t even get a fourth!

           But no… NO, Season 3 is literally just. THREE episodes, each twice the normal length, so like six episodes; But still, it’s obvious with how it’s formatted into a trio that Season 3 will be less a season, and more the final battle and climax of the show, the culmination of everything else! Which means for all intents and purposes… Season 2 IS the final season of the show. That everything we want to see, we hope to see; It can only happen in Season 2, because Season 3 is the final battle in a sense.

           Warning: A LOT of text and upset ramblings below!!!

           And that deeply angers me. I’ve done the calculations and there are fourteen episodes we’re missing out on, due to Season 3 being cut down. Fourteen episodes to do any wide variety of things; To focus on side characters, to flesh out lore and plot. To extend and focus on character arcs, to introduce and establish things; Fourteen episodes to introduce, develop, and finish various arcs and smaller plots! There’s SO much to do in fourteen episodes, especially in regards to relationships, and even representation as we talk about Luz and Amity and everyone else!

           And out of NOWHERE, out of the blue- We don’t get that! Dana Terrace herself admitted on Twitter that she left in December to focus on the news. I’m not entirely sure on how production works, but I imagine she and the crew were working on Season 2A when they got this news… Which means they’re going to have to COMPLETELY rehaul and rehash their plans for Season 2B as a result. They’re going to have to hastily pull together and rush the arcs they had planned out, so it can lead up to Season 3.

           They expected fourteen episodes of development; And now they have to resolve that within the remaining ten or so episodes of Season 2, which is already jam-packed with the original plans. At this point, any criticisms for the show’s writing or pacing that might come later down the line… I can’t take it seriously in good faith. Not when I know how Disney just screwed over Dana and the crew so suddenly, so abruptly, so HUGELY. Season 2 was supposed to be the mid-point, and you KNOW there are a bunch of arcs and little plot points that will never see the light of day, or be rushed, to accommodate the change!

           And it really angers me. Season 3 would’ve been made after a lot of fandom response- So all you fans of the Detention Kids, who would’ve liked to see more of them? Season 3 would’ve been the time for Dana and the crew to throw the fandom a bone… EXCEPT, because it’s only three/six episodes, there’s no way the Detention Kids will get focus now. Not when there’s the actual climax of the show left. There’s no room to have fun, to focus on side characters or expand even more on pre-established ones. Fourteen episodes’ worth of kind, small little moments that stand out- Gone, down the drain, never to see the light of day to begin with!

           I just… Feel so BAD for Dana and the crew; Dana fought so hard for this story! Her roommate said that nobody wanted to see a story about an old witch and her young apprentice, and you know what, Dana FOUGHT for that story and got it for us! She had to deal with censors for Lumity, but she fought for that! Dana and the crew were EXCITED to tell us, they no doubt had so much planned and in store, you can tell from the tone of the Reddit AMA and the Charity Livestream, all of which were done months before Disney told Dana and the crew about Season 3 being downsized.

           And like… Dana herself said that she’s still down to do future Owl House content. If Disney asks her to –with pushback from fans- then yeah, she could do more! We might get an epilogue or sequel series… But that doesn’t change how the pacing of the show will be disrupted. How a lot of arcs will have to be prematurely rushed through and finished, instead of having the loving time taken to develop and appreciate them.

          Characters will be rushed through, we had FOURTEEN episodes taken from us! Characters like Belos or Kikimora, or Odalia and Alador, the antagonists- They’re not guaranteed to survive or make it past the end of Season 3, so even if we got more content post-S3, it wouldn’t really be able to remedy for their drastically-shortened screen time, unless through flashbacks or resurrection or whatever. Characters, arcs, development, all are being shafted here.

           And this ANGERS me! Like I said, The Owl House is my comfort show. I finished Season 1 with the full understanding that we weren’t even halfway through yet; We still had SO much more to do, so much more to see, amidst all of the wonders that Season 1 had provided! But now I feel cheated. I feel cheated, because sike! Actually you WERE halfway through, and that changes everything about the tone, the pacing, the setting of the show. Suddenly I’m already looking forward to and anticipating the end, because the end is DIRECTLY after Season 2; And I can’t enjoy it as much, because now I have that anxiety and dread as Season 2 ends that… THIS is the final, full, regular season.

           It was just supposed to be another season for me to enjoy, to further flesh out the show- And out of nowhere, I have to approach this with a sudden sense of finality, I’m forced to really appreciate it even further, because this is it! This is all we have left, when until then, I thought we had so much more! And it’s angering. It’s abrupt. Season 2 was in many ways supposed to be carefree and hands-off…

           But now, I have to approach it in an existential sense. With the full understanding that the show is essentially ENDING by this point, with each new episode, we’re on a timer now. We’ve lost the luxury of Season 1, that Season 2 would’ve had, if it was the midpoint in the series. And now I can’t enjoy things as much because just as quickly as I got these new arcs and characters and developments, I have to watch them be quickly wrapped up. 

          I barely even got them, I was looking forward to more of it, there should’ve been more, and then bam! It’s already done, just kidding! Like it was handed to me, and then abruptly torn out of my hands barely a few seconds later, after I’d anticipated an entire day alone with it.

           I hate this. I’m angry, I’m sad, I’m disappointed. I had so much wonder and joy that this was only the beginning, but now it’s actually the ending! I had so much to look forward to, so much promised- And this show was doing well! It was SUCCESSFUL, Lumity brought a HUGE influx of popularity, and you know what? The show deserves that! 

          Not just for being good in general, but also- This is SUCH a huge step forward in representation, especially given how this is DISNEY of all channels… With Luz being a bisexual, ADHD, character of color! Amity fully being a lesbian ON-SCREEN, no censors, nothing held back, her crush treated and fully indulged the way a straight person’s would’ve been!

           The Owl House deserves so much for just that alone. So much attention, and it got attention, it was arguably at a peak because now so much fans are tuning in… And Disney, those paradoxical cowards, they decide to end it early!? I’m angry. I’m frustrated, I’m sad, I was told to expect more, to just enjoy myself in the moment, but now I have to readjust my sense and perception of everything in anticipation of a sudden end.

          And I’m sure that’s what Dana and the crew have to do as well, they were so excited, no doubt planting things in Season 2A to be resolved later in Season 3… But nope, now they have to rush it through and finish it in Season 2B, along with everything else they had planned! And they might have to cut out stuff from Season 2B, to make room for the ending of those pre-established arcs!

           It’s frustrating and clumsy and sudden, and it just… ANGERS ME! It makes me genuinely mad and frustrated, like I want to punch a wall… And I hate it! And a part of me hopes and wishes that if the fans really DO give enough of a backlash and demand, maybe Disney will change its mind. 

          If we say enough, ASAP, then maybe Disney will delay Season 2B so that Season 3 can be extended back to its proper length, allowing Dana and the crew to redo Season 2B as they originally intended. I’d be fine with waiting additional time, as much as the crew needs, to redo Season 2B with the understanding that they have that full third season back!

           I’d GLADLY, happily, let the crew take their time to redo Season 2B to its original glory and plans, to better set up a full Season 3! I’d let them take their time, I wouldn’t complain at all, I’d still watch! So Disney, go ahead, change your plans abruptly AGAIN, it’s not like you have no qualms screwing over this show or other content creators with this kind of back-and-forth, look at Matt Braly having to contend with True Colors being delayed and almost censored, only for the whole thing to be useless because the original episode was leaked anyway! He had to rush out the Season 3 intro, I’m betting this RIGHT now!

           But even if it was delayed, even if it was released early… It doesn’t change the actual show itself. It doesn’t change the actual story, just how it was presented- But the story itself, it remains intact. The Owl House doesn’t even get that. Brevity can be the soul of wit, but if you’re suddenly told out of nowhere to chop it down, it’s not gonna be the soul of anything. 

          It’s just… SO UNFAIR, and it makes me genuinely pissed off. Like, I could handle True Colors being delayed by the end of the day, because the show is otherwise the exact same- But TOH being so drastically reduced, abruptly shortened, I think that’s honestly objectively worse… So I braced myself for and adapted to one bad thing, and then got another thing even MORE terrible! Much more terrible, in fact- Amazing.

           I’m just… Tired and frustrated. Like it feels like I had this happy thing in my life and it was taken away from me, I can’t even have that, I can’t have the hope and anticipation for more, that’s it! It’s already done and gone! I knew I’d have to prepare for that eventually, but in a manner that felt fleshed-out and well-rounded, like I’d really had my time to enjoy and appreciate… But just kidding! It’s like a punch in the face, and it makes me honestly depressed and sad, and I kind of don’t know what to do besides… Ask for more, and hope?

          A part of me feels like the investment, the enjoyment, was lowkey all for nothing, meaningless and worthless, now that so much was cut down- And obviously it IS worth it, it always is! But in the moment of despair, I’m asking… Is that it? It was all for nothing, then… All that effort. All of that speculation and enjoyment and anticipation. 

          All you had look forward to, all of that emotion you put in- So much of it is going to be left unresolved because how the show was so enormously cut down. And now it makes me hesitant to invest in other shows, I’m afraid, in case they get cut down like this, in case my attention is punished and deprived for engaging with the material like that to begin with.

           As a viewer and someone who loves and enjoys media, I feel like there’s a trust that’s being breached, I can’t really rely or depend on things I enjoy to last or stay there, so why bother getting invested? Why put in the effort for fandom and content if it’s going to be gone like THAT, if all plans are thrown out the window, and all attention and feedback is meaningless! 

          What’s the point of showing that you love this, of expressing yourself, if you’re going to get even LESS than what you’d cautiously hoped for? Why hope at all? There’s this bitterness left inside of me, that you shouldn’t have bothered enjoying or getting invested, or pouring yourself into this, because in the end you weren’t going to get anything close to that.

           Which, fan content is ALWAYS valid! But it’s usually done to expand on stuff that’s already there… But if there was nothing there because it got pulled last second, then why bother? Why enjoy if it’s so brief? Why invest if the conclusion is so sudden and out of nowhere? Why care at all? And I know that shouldn’t change how I feel… 

          But with Infinity Train and Amphibia, I guess I really can’t count on anything, not even the mutual solidarity of numbers, to change a thing. So why hope for and ask for more and better? Why even enjoy what I have, knowing it’ll be cut off by itself in the future because the planned arcs were forcibly dropped? I can’t enjoy an episode as part of a larger story now, just a shorter one, and now there’s this pressure.

           Pressure, that’s it- A pressure on the show. A pressure on the writers and audience. To suddenly cram in and make the most of this time. Pressure on every Season 2 episode to go above and beyond to make up for the almost complete and utter lack of Season 3; Season 2 will practically have to carry the weight of TWO seasons on its back, two condensed into one! And it just… There’s so much pressure. No time to breathe or enjoy myself or relax, because now it’s all suddenly ending and fleeting in front of my eyes when I hadn’t done that, and now I go back and yell “Come back!” 

          I wish I’d enjoyed it more knowing it was already ending, but it’s too late. I wish I could’ve done something, but what could I have done? And I really did try to appreciate and cherish this to my ability, but I did so expecting more, as I should’ve- And now it feels I didn’t do enough. I feel cheated. Like the rug was pulled under me, that my effort was rendered naught and never enough no matter how hard I tried, the game is rigged.

           I’m frantic. I’m paranoid. I’m already having to say goodbye and brace myself for the end, when I expected at least another full year to unapologetically not have to worry about that, to just be in my zone and be myself and ENJOY… To not have to worry existentially like that. I can’t have that peace, I can’t have that longing, lasting fun. 

          I knew it’d come to an end, but now I can’t have the time to properly enjoy and relax and appreciate it, to truly live it out meaningfully and deliberately… I’m going to have to laser-focus now and put aside other things, because this thing is NOW and won’t last, unlike the rest; And in a way, that kind of rush and pressure, it just ends up paradoxically making the whole thing LESS fun, even!

          So in my attempts to appreciate and enjoy it more, I enjoy it less. It’s like a punch in the face in direct retaliation for getting invested and attached, for actually being connected to the story. I’m being punished for enjoying, for letting myself feel, so why ever bother with that, ever again? Why should I get attached? I’m just punished for that, so I won’t bother. I won’t put myself out there so even if it DOES see itself through, I won’t have been there for it from justified paranoia, and then I’ll miss out when it IS there. Like I can’t win, no matter what- So why participate?

          It doesn’t matter, it’s all useless. “It makes me happy”, well, maybe that’s no longer even a reason to do and make and enjoy things anymore, huh! And now I’m just… Bitterly putting it aside. Feeling like I should’ve known better, that at least I’m being more ‘mature’. I feel like Luz in the first episode, throwing her book away, her prized hyperfixation that invigorated and brought so much meaning to her… I feel like Luz, just almost apathetically, in resignation, throwing it into the trash while someone smiles and tells me it’s okay and good and I SHOULD have done that, actually!

           It’s making me tired and exhausted. I didn’t want to have to suddenly feel and deliberate over all of this, all at once, right now- But I feel I’d regret it even more if I DIDN’T do that, and then it ended, and the time and moment, the opportunity, it passed! It’s a frantic dread and paranoia that means I can’t appreciate and enjoy properly, because every little thing I so desperately claw at and prize and treasure, but also I keep telling myself not to get my hopes up, and…

          It lowkey makes me want to curl up and cry? And sob, because now that insecurity, that voice in the back of my head, it was RIGHT, I really should’ve listened to it to begin with, and not ever bothered! Don’t risk the trust in connecting with someone else’s story that’s still in process, only ever engage with stuff fully finished. 

          I can never enjoy that anticipation and hope now, of being along the ride for the journey, of just getting to look out the window and wonder; Not knowing the ending, but looking forward to it! And I can’t do that anymore, not when I’m afraid of the trip suddenly grinding to a screeching halt out of nowhere!

           But yeah, I’m just… I…

           …I’m sad. I’m angry, and now I’m sad. Depressed, outright, directly because of this, when otherwise I wouldn’t have been- And that’s painful and frustrating and makes me feel like I’m being tossed around a whirlwind, with no hope. No say or agency, just a constant bad hand I have to brace myself for. So all I can do is curl up and lie down and hope for the worst to be over, and never dare to be so ungrateful or greedy to ask or hope for more, for good things, just for the bad things to lessen or stop.

          In the end, it didn’t even matter, so I should just throw it all away, never try again; And everything I did beforehand, up until then, I’ll look back at it all, those fond and innocent memories, and I’ll look back with an eternal bitterness that will forever corrupt and scar those recollections. So even the past, which allegedly can never change, is ruined for me! The past never gets better, it only gets worse, so WHY… Why believe and hope, and love and live???

          I’m just a stupid fool for being so invested in this cartoon, in fiction, why don’t I just GROW UP and focus on REAL things that matter, huh?!? I really do feel like Luz genuinely thinking and resigning herself to the Reality Check camp, having that childlike passion and joy just whittled down and strangled, feeling it die out; Knowing it will, so just getting it over with and killing it now, before I have to mourn later.

          I shouldn’t ever put forth the trust in engaging with others’ stories, just my own because I at least have control there, I should just be alone and by myself with only my stories, and never get to connect with or experience companionship with others’ stories, ever again. Just build up my walls and hide and be alone and isolated as I’ve always been- It seems even with fiction or media, I’m STILL by myself! There’s an intimacy in reading and emotionally engaging with others’ stories, where other writers put a piece of themselves into that… Hoping others will read and respond and reciprocate, and feel the same!

           Well, maybe I shouldn’t put myself out there, either, in fears of being punished and cut off and whittled down like that! Why express myself, why be, why live? Why be invested into the soul of others, manifested in their own content, if it’ll never come to fruition, if my own soul will only hurt for connecting?! This is worse than a fave or a comfort character dying, because at least the integrity of the story itself remains and is worth it.

          There’s always the chance of a return or a revival or a flashback to appreciate, but THIS… This is real life. And it’s THE ending in the most abrupt and literal and tangible sense, of the media itself; An ending more powerful and harsh than any resolution to an arc. Because now NOTHING will ever be expected to come out from this, ever again- No new content, nothing else to enjoy. Media is like a fantasy, an escapism from real life, but even when I fully expected and accepted and saw the boundary and end between fantasy and reality… I still get punished with reality regardless! I can’t escape that real life because it WILL go out of its way to directly cut in and interfere, and ruin, what I love.

           So why escape? Why invested? Why love? Why should I ever feel comfort??? It’s all stupid. I’m stupid. Life is finite and it’s merely what’s directly in front of you, don’t dare to dream or imagine, or think or hope, just focus on what’s in front and get by and try to live… Or at least ‘survive’. Or ‘not die’, I guess.

          And now I resent real life even more for ruining this for me, when beforehand I could still like and appreciate it, even if I still needed some time away every now and then. So paradoxically, trying to get me to focus on real life, has made me detest it moreso! It’s that whole thing of don’t bother trying because you’ll just get punished for it, just passively wait and receive, don’t LIVE. Don’t stake initiative or agency.

          At least if a character dies, the universe and immersion is still intact, if not moreso because then you feel and become even MORE connected and get that emotional catharsis, everything up until then and after takes on a whole new meaning and appreciation; But if it ends in real life, the immersion is gone. The fantasy is permanently shattered, and now it’s all worthless in hindsight because you’re reminded that it was never real to begin with.

          And what little you DID get, is now ruined; And you’re not going to get anything else new, either! You can’t even KEEP things anymore… You’re just a bitter fool who’s going to get old and wither, look back, and become even MORE bitter and miserable. All of the emotion you felt, it’s been rendered worthless and meaningless, that connection once made… And I hate to see things ruined like that, so maybe don’t have things to begin with!

          I’m bitterly, enviously jealous of others who still manage to enjoy, because why are you still invested?! Why still keep trying, don’t you realize how pointless it is!? And now I’m just ruining that for them, I’m ruining THEM, in my own mind and heart and place in life. How can you still keep going!? So even that stuff they make, that fandom content that exists on its own more or less in a sense, even THAT is marred and ruined for me… And I feel like I’m internally ruining that for others, that makes me feel guilty as I loathe myself for being so awful, so why believe that I can be better? Why try to be better then?!

           I’m envious, because you guys still manage to cope and handle this in a realistic way, in a safe and mature manner. And anything others make, it’s just a cruel, cold reminder, a mockery even, of what I’ve lost, of my dashed and ruined hopes. And then I can’t bear to look at or even enjoy THAT, especially stuff made post-announcement, because you guys managed to keep making it anyway. And me, I didn’t, so what does that say about miserable old me? But then don’t make this about MYSELF…

          Seriously though, if you’re going to still enjoy and create, please do so! Don’t let this bitter fool stop you. Don’t let me hurt you. Just keep going out there and be yourself, me, I’ll… I’ll figure something out I guess? But yeah, that’s MY problem, not yours, those of you who keep creating anyway, you’re everything I admire and more! You’re all heroes in a sense, and I encourage and fully support you- If my ramblings make you hesitate or discourage you, then just throw them aside and disregard that! I’d never want to intrude or interrupt someone’s own expression, not when I mourn my own, that’s for sure!

           And y’know what? Other people who keep creating… You remind me that there IS hope. That there maybe is a point in going on and being invested, especially indie creators, because y’all have control and agency and take over what you make, and don’t have to depend or rely on, or fear, some gross corporation butting in and pulling the strings, threatening to revoke and take it all away! Thank you, I’m grateful, truly I am, I’m eternally indebted in a way I can never fully repay. Maybe I can try to make up for this by continuing to make my own things… So now this depressed, cynical rant, suddenly it takes a more hopeful turn as I write it, because of others!

           And now I’m thinking to myself… It IS worth it to connect. For those little moments of inspiration and joy and hope that others can instill. Thanks, you guys. Out of nowhere, you suddenly made it better for me, and kind of helped me overcome this depressive slump; And here I was, just thinking and resigning myself to the end! I guess it never really IS the end… And what I said about feeling like Luz, throwing away her beloved book and joy of her life? Well, she DID go back to grab that book, and in doing so, found love, found family, and happiness she couldn’t have anticipated beyond her wildest dreams!

           …Even so, wishful thinking aside, this has all been a whirlwind to me;

           I’m tired.

[tangent101]

A Strange Life: Chapter 12

Warning: This chapter includes a brief segment with a character waking up after having been raped. Reader discretion is advised.

Part 5 

Polarized  

Chapter 12 

A Dark Place  

I hurt. My eyes felt like I’d been face-down on the beach and I clenched my eyes shut, trying desperately to get tears to flow. And then they did. 

Yang’s body flew back, blood spraying out. ��

The back of Cinder’s head blown open, her haunted eyes staring at me as she fell beside me.  

“No...” I whimpered. I opened my eyes, shivering. My dress was pulled up past my breasts, my bra, my panties gone... I swallowed hard, feeling bile in my throat. Everything hurt, but between my legs... I retched and forced myself to look away. 

A cart was next to me and I forced myself to sit up. “Is anybody out there?! Please, help!” 

No response. I blinked the tears from my eyes and looked at the cart for anything I could use to free myself. But there was nothing. Just a photo of me looking blankly at the camera. Calm down. Okay. Let’s use the photo. See what happened. I focused on the picture, hearing tidbits of sound, a man’s voice. Adam’s voice. I had to swallow back bile again but I continued to focus... until I fell into the photo. 

White light filled my vision and I forced myself to look up as Adam’s face came into focus. 

“That’s just great... oh Blake...” 

I was lying on the ground again, my hands tied before me. Adam knelt before me, taking picture after picture. “This angle highlights your purity, see? When a model is just starting to regain consciousness, she’s at her most open and honest. There’s no vanity. No posing. Just... pure... expression. 

Adam’s hand slid up my legs and I squirmed. “No! Stop!” 

“You were wasted on that dyke. I know what women really want. I’ll have you begging for more before we’re done,” he said. My mind froze for a moment and Ilia’s voice came to me. 

So. If Zach ever tries anything like that again when I’m not around? There’s one thing you can do. Piss yourself. I’m serious, Blake. Men like to think of sex as this pure thing... so if they’re not expecting it? If you pee yourself, you sully yourself in their eyes.  

Adam’s hand brushed against my underwear and I closed my eyes and listened to my sister. 

“Oh God! You bitch! You’re just an animal, aren’t you? How disgusting...” I opened my eyes to see Adam standing up and storming away. A moment later I heard the sink in the bathroom turn on and looked around desperately. I had to distract Adam, get him focused on something else... my eyes focused on one of his cameras, attached to the tripod, and I wormed over to it, kicking out. It toppled and smashed on the ground.  

Moments later Adam rushed back in. “What the fuck are you doing? You bitch! You’re going to pay for that!” He smacked me across the face and I reared back to spit at him, but he dodged it. “Okay. Time for you to take a nap. You’re far too feisty right now for me to work with.” His hand closed over my throat and I trembled as I felt the cold metal of a needle against my neck. There was a pinprick and things started to blur once again before everything went white. 

-

I came to with my face aching. My underwear was damp and clammy... I glanced down and saw I was now duct-taped to that horrible chair. While my dress had been pushed up to bare my legs, Adam hadn’t touched me further. It took everything in me to keep from bursting into tears. “Hello?” 

There was no response. 

I struggled against my bonds but I couldn’t move. The cameras were out of sight, though I caught a glimpse of shards of light on the floor by where the tripod had stood. The cart that held that first photo was still there, and I noticed the pictures had changed. 

Wait. Did I... did I create a Paradox? I destroyed the camera... I glanced around the room. He drugged me for his fucked-up binders, taking photos like with those other poor girls. Why didn’t I see it? I knew it was his style! I had to blame poor Cinder. But... maybe I could use these new pictures? Maybe I can get out of this? Save Yang? I have to. I am not going to die in here.  

I looked at the photos and one stood out. I glared at the camera. I couldn’t help but smile. This was a Blake who was still fighting. This was the moment I had to try for. 

Focusing, I let myself fall into the next picture and its moment....

[blackwoolncrown]

The defining feature of conversation is the expectation of a response. It would just be a monologue without one. In person, or on the phone, those responses come astoundingly quickly: After one person has spoken, the other replies in an average of just 200 milliseconds.

In recent decades, written communication has caught up—or at least come as close as it’s likely to get to mimicking the speed of regular conversation (until they implant thought-to-text microchips in our brains). It takes more than 200 milliseconds to compose a text, but it’s not called “instant” messaging for nothing: There is an understanding that any message you send can be replied to more or less immediately.

But there is also an understanding that you don’t have to reply to any message you receive immediately. As much as these communication tools are designed to be instant, they are also easily ignored. And ignore them we do. Texts go unanswered for hours or days, emails sit in inboxes for so long that “Sorry for the delayed response” has gone from earnest apology to punchline.

People don’t need fancy technology to ignore each other, of course: It takes just as little effort to avoid responding to a letter, or a voicemail, or not to answer the door when the Girl Scouts come knocking. As Naomi Baron, a linguist at American University who studies language and technology, puts it, “We’ve dissed people in lots of formats before.” But what’s different now, she says, is that “media that are in principle asynchronous increasingly function as if they are synchronous.”

The result is the sense that everyone could get back to you immediately, if they wanted to—and the anxiety that follows when they don’t. But the paradox of this age of communication is that this anxiety is the price of convenience. People are happy to make the trade to gain the ability to respond whenever they feel like it.

While you may know, rationally, that there are plenty of good reasons for someone not to respond to a text or an email—they’re busy, they haven’t seen the message yet, they’re thinking about what they want to say—it doesn’t always feel that way in a society where everyone seems to be on their smartphone all the time. A Pew survey found that 90 percent of cellphone owners “frequently” carry their phone with them, and 76 percent say they turn their phone off “rarely” or “never.” In one small 2015 study, young adults checked their phones an average of 85 times a day. Combine that with the increasing social acceptability of using your smartphone when you’re with other people, and it’s reasonable to expect that it probably doesn’t take that long for a recipient to see any given message.

“You create for people an environment where they feel as though they could be responded to instantaneously, and then people don’t do that. And that just has anxiety all over it,” says Sherry Turkle, the director of the Initiative on Technology and Self at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It’s anxiety-inducing because written communication is now designed to mimic conversation—but only when it comes to timing. It allows for a fast back-and-forth dialogue, but without any of the additional context of body language, facial expression, and intonation. It’s harder, for example, to tell that someone found your word choice off-putting, and thus to correct it in real-time, or try to explain yourself better. When someone’s in front of you, “you do get to see the shadow of your words across someone else’s face,” Turkle says.

In last month’s viral New Yorker short story “Cat Person,” a young woman embarks on a failed romantic relationship with a man she meets at the movie theater where she works. They only go on one date in the story; they get to know each other primarily over text. When the affair ends messily, it reveals not only how the bubble of romantic expectations can be popped by reality’s needle, but also how weak digital communication is as a scaffolding on which to build an understanding of another person.

In an interview, the story’s author, Kristen Roupenian, said the piece was inspired by “the strange and flimsy evidence we use to judge the contextless people we meet outside our existing social networks, whether online or off.” Indeed, even for the people we already know, we increasingly rely on contextless forms of communication. This puts an unusually large burden on the words themselves (and maybe some emojis) to convey what is meant. And each message, and each pause in between messages, takes on outsize importance.

“Text messages become marks on rocks to be analyzed and sweated over,” Turkle says.

It’s not always easy to figure out what someone meant to convey by using a certain emoji, or by waiting three days to text you back. Different people have different ideas about how long it’s appropriate to wait to respond. As Deborah Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, wrote in The Atlantic, the signals that are sent by how people communicate online—the “metamessages” that accompany the literal messages—can easily be misinterpreted:

Human beings are always in the business of making meaning and interpreting meaning. Because there are options to choose from when sending a message, like which platform to use and how to use it, we see meaning in the choice that was made. But because the technologies, and the conventions for using them, are so new and are changing so fast, even close friends and relatives have differing ideas about how they should be used. And because metamessages are implied rather than stated, they can be misinterpreted or missed entirely.

This metamessage opacity spawns thousands of other text messages a year, as people enlist their friends to help interpret exactly what their romantic interest meant by a certain turn of phrase, or whether a week-long radio silence means they’re being ghosted. (The New Yorker parodied this collaborative textual analysis in a video in which a group of women gather, war-room style, to answer the question “Was It a Date?”)

Features intended to add clarity—like read receipts or the little bubble with the ellipses in iMessage that tells you when someone is typing (which is apparently called the “typing awareness indicator”)—often just cause more anxiety, by offering definitive evidence for when someone is ignoring you or started to reply only to put it off longer.

* * *

But just because people know how stressful it can be to wait for a reply to what they thought would be an instant message doesn’t mean they won’t ignore others’ messages in turn.

Sometimes people don’t respond as a way of deliberately signaling they’re annoyed, or that they don’t want to continue a relationship. Turkle says sometimes taking a long time to write back is a way of establishing dominance in a relationship, by making yourself look simply too busy and important to reply.

But oftentimes, people are just trying to manage the quantity of messages and notifications they receive. In 2015, the average American was receiving 88 business emails per day, according to the market research firm Radicati, but only sending 34 business emails per day. Because—who has the time to respond to 88 emails a day? Maybe someone isn’t responding because they’ve realized the interruption of a notification negatively affects their productivity, so they’re ignoring their phone to get some work done.

I find myself ignoring or procrastinating even important messages, and ones I want and intend to respond to. I had to create a bright red “Needs Response” email label to battle my own “delayed response” problem. I regularly read texts, think “I’ll respond to that later,” and then completely forget about it.  Working memory—the brain’s mental to-do list—can only hold so much at once, and when notifications get crammed in with shopping lists and work tasks, sometimes it springs a leak.

“A lot of the time what’s happening is people have five conversations going on, and they just can’t really be intimate and present with five different people,” Turkle says. “So they kind of do a triage, they prioritize, they forget. Your brain is not a perfect instrument for processing texts. But it will be interpreted as though it really was a conversation, and so you can hurt people.”

* * *

Still, even though instant written communication can be overwhelming and anxiety-inducing, people prefer it. Americans spend more time texting than talking on the phone, and texting is the most frequent form of communication for Americans under 50.

While texting is popular worldwide, Baron, of American University, thinks that a strong preference for communication that can be easily ignored is a particularly American attitude. “Americans have far fewer manners in general in their communication than a lot of other societies,” she says. “The second issue is a real feeling of empowerment. I think we have become a version of power freaks, not just control freaks.”

In a survey Baron conducted in 2007 and 2008 of students in several countries including the United States, the things that people said they liked most about their phones were often related to control. One American woman said her favorite thing was “Constant communication when I want it (can also shut it off when I don’t).”

“What I have seen in this country, and I don’t know if it’s a national trait, is people wait until they think they have the perfect thing to say, as though relationships can be managed by writing the perfect thing,” Turkle says. “And I think that is something we pay a very high cost for.”

In Baron’s survey, people also mentioned feeling controlled by their phones—bemoaning how dependent they were on the devices, and how the constant connectivity made them feel obligated to respond.

But texts and emails don’t create as big of an obligation as phone calls, or a face-to-face conversation. When young adults are interviewed about why they don’t like making phone calls, they cite a distaste for how “invasive” they are, and a reluctance to place that burden on someone else. Written instant messages create a smokescreen of plausible deniability if someone doesn’t feel like responding, which can be relieving for the hider, and frustrating for the seeker.

More than anything, what the age of instant communication has enabled is the ability to deal with conversation on our own terms. We can respond right away, we can put it off for two days, or never get around to it at all. We can manage several different conversations at once. “Sorry, I was out with friends,” we might say, as an excuse for not texting someone back. Or, “Sorry, I just need to text this person back real quick,” we might say while out with friends.

As these things become normal, it creates an environment where we are only comfortable asking for slivers of people’s distracted time, lest they ever obligate us to give them our full and undivided attention.

[mussthemoose]

.....drop the sunny meta.....plssssssss.....do it do it do it.....also what do you think about Sunnys mom? No one ever talks about her but I ahve feelings

Ps don’t leave me hanging!! o/

Hey there! Finally got around to giving this an answer because I’ve procrastinated on it enough! Here’s a few things I’m going to drop that’s personal headcanons and stuff from what I gathered from the game:

-People say Sunny is a good listener, and the reason for that isn’t just because he’s quiet, it’s because Sunny has a very active imagination and whenever he listens to someone talking, he seems to almost be making a whole little scene in his head -He doesn’t express a lot, but you can always tell he gets the meaning behind what you’re saying once you learn to read his expressions -It’s also a sign he really likes you, because the space inside Sunny’s head is very precious to him so him letting your words roam free there of his own choice is just a huge mark of trust for him -In order of people who can read Sunny: Basil, Mari, Kel, tie between Hero and Aubrey. -They can all actually ready him pretty damn well, it mostly comes down to who can notice the smaller signs. -Basil puts as much love and effort into noticing the little things for Sunny as he does for his most loved plants, and he has a lot of experience with noticing when something small is wrong in something that doesn’t give many signs about it -Mari is second, but it’s a very close second. She’s been with Sunny since he was a baby and puts so much love and effort into understanding him. The only reason she is slightly lower than Basil is, in part, because of how well she’s known Sunny in a paradoxical way. -Sunny is after all, at the end of the day, still someone who can be tricky to read, and sometimes it’s easy to look at past ways he’s acted and think it’s just a repeat of that instead of something new. Like a parent who doesn’t realize that they’re using personal knowledge that’s 7 years old to figure out what you like. -Hero and Aubrey can ready Sunny quite well, they just don’t notice the small signs as much. It doesn’t make them any worse friends for that, but Hero tends to take people on their word and Aubrey trusts her friends, and hopes they’d let her know if they needed help or were hurting. -Kel is...an interesting case. You’d think he’d be the densest for reading Sunny, and sometimes, in some ways, he is. But also I think he’d be one of the few to realize how much Sunny was hating the violin. -Everyone else I think, from what we see, seem to think that he’s just being Sunny, worried about doing something with these expectations but thinking that’s just how he normally acts, and he must obviously love getting to play with his sister Mari! -But Kel is so honest and straight forward that he’d put the pieces together, how Sunny has to be pushed to play for them, how sad he looks to have to leave to practice with the tutor, the look he gets sometimes staring at Mari. -He still doesn’t say anything because even though Sunny seems sad and upset, he knows what it’s like to feel like that to do something for an older sibling who’s just so much better, so for once he lets it slide because he also trusts that Mari is a good sibling and would stop him if something was seriously wrong, like when Kel almost got to the point of throwing up in the hotdog eating competition and Hero stopped him (but still managed to win...) -Later, realizing what happened later post-truth, Kel reaffirms to himself that he’s always going to be honest when he sees one of his friends hurting. Never again. -Sunny’s favourite breakfast is that oatmeal with the dinosaur eggs that melt to reveal dinosaurs when it’s warm and his absolute favourite thing is to pretend that he’s digging them up from a sand dune, hence the whole dino dig. -He does this well into his adult years still -Kel got him a pirate eyepatch after noticing this (Sunny makes sure to dig it out whenever Kel visits, it makes him happy...and maybe Sunny happy a bit too). To stop this post from getting too incredibly big, some Sunny’s Mom meta real quick: -I’ve read a lot of meta, and I personally think she didn’t know the truth. -Sunnysviolin did a really great few posts about autistic Sunny which I heavily agree with, and I heavily agree with the fact Sunny’s parents probably aren’t the best fit for the kids they got (it’s really easy to code them as Asian-American and there is a lot there when it comes to non-neurotypical kids) -And while there is a decently common consensus that Sunny’s dad has a lot of disappointment in Sunny for not being like Mari, I feel like Sunny’s mom was one of those ‘bless her heart she’s trying but she really does not understand at all’ -I feel like she’s tried, honestly tried, but didn’t have as much time to try to look into this stuff that Mari had, or the drive to think she needed to do so heavily in a sense. -Mari loved Sunny so much and seemed to want to do so much of the work anyways, and it’s so much effort to even get a proper idea of how Sunny’s mind works so, I think she’d end up being happy to have Mari be a sort of translator for her, more or less -She wouldn’t excessively baby him, though she’d likely act a bit much because she doesn’t really understand how his mind works so she goes with what she knows instead of what’s best -And at the point where we start the game, I think the whole ‘mommy’ thing where she seems to almost baby him comes after Mari is gone. -Her Husband is gone, Mari is gone, and her last son barely seems to be able to take care of himself unless she holds his hand to do it (not because he can’t do it, but Sunny seems to have trouble sometimes finding enough care to put in the bare minimum effort to survive). -It seems more likely to me that she, like some other people, tried to mentally distance herself from everything. -Her sun is all she has left and all he wants to do is sleep, she’s entirely out of her comfort zone and she doesn’t have any lifelines. -I think there’s a part of her that knows this too, that knows that this situation isn’t good, and isn’t fine, but what’s she even supposed to do? She doesn’t know, so she...just keeps going on. -It’s horrible, everything is wrong, she’s hurting and suppressing and she just wants Mari back so so much, she wants her husband back, she even wants Sunny back because at least back then he’d look at her when she said she loved him. -But they’re not coming back, Mari is never coming back and she knows that without her she has no chance in figuring out how to pull in the other two. -Sunny’s all she has left, and sometimes she doesn’t even known for certain if he counts at this point in the bad endings she gets an answer, he did. He counted for so much and now she has nothing

-Sunny’s mom once yelled “Ayo, the pizza is here!” and Mari almost tripped down the stairs with Sunny. They all had a laugh at it after a gentle scolding to be more careful. -Sunny always takes the steps extra carefully whenever he picks up food delivery with his friends post-true end, none of them say anything about the way he grips the handrails hard enough to leave a mark on the way down

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine - Chapter Two

Alright people, say it with me: Trust Issues. Also Finn goes from zero to one hundred real fast.

This is definitely a filler chapter; we’ll get to more spy stuff next chapter.

@lumosinlove

Chapter One

.

Finn made sure to get to the office early enough to have time for a trip down to the Archives, his second cup of coffee in hand as he took the elevator up to the fifth floor of the building. He needed intel. Not on the Snakes – they were getting briefed on them later today. No, he was looking for files on his new partners.

Granted, he could learn a lot from observing them on his own time, but that could only give him so much. In order to get the full picture, he needed their hometowns, history, information about their families, jobs they’d done in the past, you name it. Because, for one of the only times in his life, he was stumped. His entire job was based on how well he could read people; this was frustratingly unusual.

Unusually frustrating? Finn questioned as elevator opened with a ding.

It was both frustrating and unusual. There.

Figuring Logan out was harder than he’d thought it would be. Finn was having a really hard time connecting the Logan he knew from two months ago to the one he was trying to get to know now. He was so different compared to the version of Logan he’d met at the New Year’s party… but alcohol tended to have that effect on people. The guy who cuddled with him on that ratty old couch while nursing a rum and coke now kept his distance. The easy smile and contagious laugh Finn remembered hadn’t been seen or heard since. He was so guarded. About everything, it seemed like. That made him hard to get to know, hard to predict. 

And then there was Leo. Leo made absolutely no sense, in Finn’s opinion. With constant movement but controlled, practiced actions, he was a paradoxical combination of restless and serene. His nerves pointed towards inexperience, but his eyes told a different story – one with complete confidence of his capabilities. He was an enigma. And Finn couldn’t seem to get a read on him.

That was important to Finn. He needed to be able to read and understand his partners. He needed to be able to know their thoughts, predict their every move, trust them. They wouldn’t work together otherwise.

So he woke up at a god-forsaken hour – it was still dark outside – and here he was, outside the Archives.

Staring at the back, broad shoulders, and brown hair of one of his new partners.

Fuck.

He put on a smile. “If I’d known I was meeting you here, I would’ve brought coffee for you.”

Logan didn’t tense, exactly, but his shoulders stiffened slightly. He turned and smiled back. It still wasn’t the smile Finn remembered from that night, wasn’t the one he wanted to see again so badly. “Hey. I see you had the same idea as me.”

“And what’s that?”

He shrugged, indifferent. “Getting intel on your new partners.”

“Nah,” Finn lied as they walked side-by-side to the front desk, “I’m here to brush up on the previous missions against the Snakes’ before our briefing this afternoon. But it’s nice that you want to do your research on us.” He winked. Logan’s lips twitched in an attempt to withhold a smile.

“Can I help you boys?”

Finn turned his bright smile to Lily Potter, who was manning the Archives desk. “Hello, my fellow redhead! We would like the files on past Snakes’ missions, and then the files on Knut, Tremblay, and yours truly, please.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How much time do you have on your hands?”

“Don’t have anything on my schedule until this afternoon. Why?”

“The missions will take you at least two days to get through. It’s probably eight, ten years of files.”

Finn whistled lowly. “Holy shit.”

He hadn’t really thought this through. In his defense, though, it was a spur of the moment idea.

“Well, just the other files, then. Someone over here wants to do research on his new partners.”

Lily sent Logan a curious glance, but left to grab the files. Finn turned to Logan with a flirtatious smile, resting his arm on the desk. “So, what all do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

“I seriously doubt that.”  Logan snorted, nose crinkling in the process.

Finn’s smile turned more genuine. God, he was cute. “Ok, then ask away. Here, I’ll help you out. I’m a Gemini, I graduated from Harvard, I’m a sucker for green eyes, I enjoy long, romantic walks on the beach as long as there’s no seaweed-”

“Why would you think any of that is relevant?”

“I give you all this information and that’s the first question you ask? I’m offended.” Lily chose that moment to return with three files, two significantly thicker than the other one. Finn thanked her and grabbed Logan’s file for himself before passing the other two to Logan.

“Have fun researching!” Finn said as he turned to head for the elevator again. He paused before looking back at Logan and adding with a wink, “Oh, and pass along Nut’s file to me when you’re done reading it.”

***

Remus stepped foot into the briefing room to find Sirius already there, messing with a laptop. Where he got said laptop was unknown. And a little worrying, seeing that he’d shown up in Gryffindor with a bag of clothes, some cash, and nothing else.

He glanced up at Remus and looked him over with a smile. “Good afternoon. Long time, no see.”

“What are you up to?” Remus asked as he set his bag down, clutching his cup of tea in his other hand and looking back at Sirius. There were bags under his eyes, reminding Remus of the fact that he was still sleeping on his couch. Sleeping was a loose term, though. He had also been awake when Remus had gone to bed and when he got up in the morning. Did the man ever sleep?

“Oh, nothing much.” Sirius said, hitting a few keys on the laptop in rapid succession. “Getting ready to brief the cubs.”

“The cubs?”

“Your logo is a lion. And they’re the youngest ones here, right? Hence the cubs.”

“Cute.” Remus sat down in one of the chairs with a sigh and took a sip of his tea. “So what are you briefing them on today?”

“Members of the Snakes. I have a powerpoint with pictures and everything.”

“Oh god.”

Sirius rolled his eyes at Remus. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. Better than me droning on and expecting them to stay focused.”

“They’re spies. Sometimes, that’s part of the job.”

“Sure. But it doesn’t have to be.”

Remus smiled a little at that. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I try.”

He hummed, cupping his mug with both hands. “You know, if you were really thoughtful you’d stop leaving your dishes in the sink.”

That startled a laugh out of Sirius. “Now, why would I do that when it’s so fun to get on your nerves?”

“You don’t get on my nerves.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “No?”

“No.” He took another sip of tea to hide his smile. “I’m a very patient man.”

Sirius was still laughing by the time Knut, O’Hara, and Tremblay entered the room. They all sat side by side, not really talking much and still a little unsure of each other. That needed to change soon. You couldn’t afford to be doubting your partners while on missions like the ones they’d be getting into.

“Alright, cubs! Let’s get started, shall we?” Sirius asked, connecting the laptop to the room’s projector. “Today we’re going over the members of the Snakes and what all you need to know about them.”

An animated picture of a snake in a party hat showed up on the projector. Remus sighed.

“Ok, so we’ll start at the top.” He switched to the next slide. “This is Riddle. Fuck Riddle. He’s in charge of every little detail of the Snakes, and very paranoid about handing over tasks to other members. He’s got a lot of messed up ideas about ethics and – well, pretty much everything.”

“What’s wrong with his eyes?” Logan asked, still staring uncomfortably at the yellow eyes on the screen.

Sirius shrugged. “I think it’s a genetics thing. Something about liver issues. I never really paid attention. On to the next member!”

A picture of a greasy-haired man with a sour expression on his face glared back at them.

“Snape.” Remus said with disdain. At Sirius’ look, he just shrugged. “Pots has gone up against him a few times. He hates the guy and makes sure everyone knows it. He works in the drug side of their operation.”

“Exactly.” Sirius smiled, which proved to be more distracting than Remus thought it would be. There had been teasing smiles, flirty smiles, sarcastic smiles, but this one was new. This was one of the first genuine smiles he’d seen from the ex-Snake. “I think I like Potter a little more now.”

“I think you two could actually be really good friends, and that terrifies me.”

“Ok, next is Bellatrix. Please, please avoid her as much as possible. She’s certifiably insane.”

Finn frowned. “She’s got one of the flash drives, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes. So it’s going to be up to you to distract her and Leo to grab the drive, probably.”

Both boys paled a little, then looked to each other, seeming to have a silent conversation all their own.

Sirius moved on to the next slide, where a man with cold eyes and a feral smile looked back at them. “This is Fenrir Greyback. Don’t fuck around with this one, he’s ruthless.”

Finn and Logan’s eyes snapped over to Loops, who looked pale and slightly nauseous. His hand was on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, massaging the muscle absentmindedly. Not for the first time, Finn wondered what exactly happened on that mission. All he knew was that Loops was supposed to take Greyback down and he came back with a mutilated shoulder and new cuts on his face that were sure to scar. He hadn’t been back in the field since.

Leo’s gaze moved from one person in the room to the next, slowly piecing together the story. He didn’t know all the details yet, but he knew they couldn’t be good.

Sirius, who was still talking, finally seemed to connect the dots. His eyes got wide and his sentence trailed off to remain incomplete. He stared at Loops in horror. “Fuck.”

“I think that’s enough for today.” Leo said quietly but firmly, getting out of his seat while giving Remus a meaningful look. His partners followed suit. “We can pick this up again tomorrow.”

The three of them left in a hurry, leaving Sirius and Remus alone. Remus started grabbing his meticulously organized notes and shoved them in his bag. He could feel Sirius’ gaze on him, but he refused to look up.

“Listen, Remus, I had no idea –”

“Of course you didn’t.” Remus cut in calmly. “How could you have known? Hell, you probably congratulated him after that mission –”

“That’s not true –”

“But you were there. You knew what he did to people and yet you just stood by.”

“Why do you think I left?” Sirius demanded, his voice raising. Remus finally met his gaze. “You weren’t the only one who got screwed over by the Snakes. I grew up watching that shit, just assuming it was normal because that’s the way it’s always been there. And then I realized my parents were monsters and started thinking for myself and realized how fucked up that organization is. Do you really think I’d be here if I condoned that sort of shit?”

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure you cared. The only motivation for wanting to take the Snakes down that you’ve deigned to share with us is that you want your brother safe. You’ve never said anything about how you feel about the organization itself.”

“What are you smoking?” Sirius asked with an incredulous laugh. “I want my brother safe because he’s in that hellhole. What other reason –”

“Then tell us that!” Remus shouted, finally getting Sirius to stop talking. “You keep everything so close to your chest, you don’t seem to want to interact with any of us, and you don’t tell us anything but the bare minimum. How are we supposed to get anything done if we can’t trust you?”

“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? I swear, you’re one of the most guarded people I’ve ever met!”

“Well, you don’t really need to get to know me, do you?” Remus fired back. Sirius froze. “You’re here to take the Snakes down. That’s it. When all this is done, it’s not like you’re going to stay. You don’t have to trust me as a friend, but trust me as an agent.”

“That’s it, huh?” Sirius asked, voice dangerously blank.

“That’s it.”

“Fine.” He said gruffly, slamming the laptop closed and grabbing his jacket from the back of a nearby chair. “I’m headed out. Don’t wait up.”

Remus sighed, staring down at his mug and swirling the now-cold contents. Even though they’d gotten along surprisingly well the past couple of days, they weren’t friends. And they didn’t need to be friends. This was business. They were working together to get a job done. That was all. 

Remus knew that the two of them getting along so well was like an already-lit fuse - it was bound to blow up in their faces sooner rather than later. 

***

Finn walked into the safe room, whistling lowly as he looked around. He’d never been in here before – he hadn’t had a reason to. There were safes of all different types and sizes littered around the room. On tables, on the floor, embedded in the walls. He wondered how many safes there were total, and how long it had taken to collect them all.

Leo was seated criss-cross-applesauce in front of one, pressing a stethoscope against the door of a safe and rotating the dial slowly. Finn smiled a little at the sight. This made more sense, seeing it in action. The constant fidgeting was replaced with stillness, the only movement being those of deft fingers against the dial. All that motion and pent-up energy were now focused solely on the safe. 

He walked up to Leo, completely unnoticed, and tapped on his shoulder. Leo jumped a foot into the air, yanking the stethoscope out of his ears and whirling around to look at Finn. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“Sorry, Nut.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Coming to see you, obviously.” Finn said with a wink. “Tremblay and I were wondering if you wanted to get dinner with us. You know,” Finn made a weird motion with his hand and then cringed, moving his hand behind his back and grabbing it with his other hand to keep from performing any more weird, random movements. “Get to know the team and all that.”

Leo’s smile lit up the room. “I’d love to! Y’all headed out right now?”

Y’all.

Wow, his genteel southern-boy routine could really take him places in this profession. With that combined with his looks, no one would ever think he could possibly be guilty of anything.

“Probably. It’s almost seven.”

Leo blinked, confused. “Is it?” At Finn’s nod, he uncrossed his legs and stretched, his back popping in the process. “Guess we should get going then, huh?”

“Yeah.” Finn held out a hand and helped the blond to his feet. He really was just a giant. How did he find clothes that fit him? Finn glanced down at Leo’s shirtsleeves and - sure enough - they were an inch or two above his wrists. He realized he was sort of staring at this guy’s wrists, of all things, and his eyes shot back up to meet kind, albeit confused, blue eyes. “We were thinking Sid’s for dinner? You been there before?” When Leo shook his head, he groaned. “You’re missing out, Nut. We’re fixing that right now. Come on.”

He led Leo back down the hall to the bullpen, where Logan was still pouring over files. How he ever expected to get through the huge pile of files on his desk, Finn had no idea. “Look alive, Tremblay. We’re getting pizza.”

Logan instantly looked up with a hopeful smile. “Sid’s?”

“Where else?” Finn laughed as Logan shot out of his seat and grabbed his coat. He’d never seen the other agent move so fast. “Hungry?”

Logan turned to look at him, his arm getting stuck in the sleeve of his coat. He grumbled under his breath in a language that definitely wasn’t English and shoved his arm into his sleeve. “I’m going to eat an entire pizza and you can’t stop me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They stepped out of the building together, taking a right and heading down the street. It wasn’t actually that cold outside, for a Gryffindor winter – only thirty-five degrees or so. But Nut still shoved his hands into his pockets and nuzzled his nose into his coat. Finn couldn’t hold back the smile at the sight, noticing red-tipped ears and a slight shiver.

“Cold, Nut?” Logan asked, also noticing the blond’s hunched shoulders.

He looked at his new partners, then buried his nose again. “Don’t judge me. New Orleans winters aren’t nearly this bad.”

“New Orleans, huh?” Logan questioned, although Finn knew he was already aware of Leo’s hometown. It was in his file, after all. “I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Ooh, yes!” Finn agreed, leading them around a corner. “The home of Mardis Gras.”

Leo shrugged. “If we’re being technical Mobile, Alabama had the first Mardis Gras celebration in the States. We just do it better. There’s a ton of people, though. If you really want to see the city, come at a better time in the year.” He sent the other two boys a smile. “Maybe summer, so you can experience real southern heat. And humidity.”

“No thanks.” They said in unison, making Leo laugh. The conversation trailed off as they waited for the sign at a crosswalk.

“Where are the two of you from?” Leo finally asked as the red hand morphed into a walking man and the ticking from the crosswalk speakers changed tempo. They stepped into the street with Logan staring down cars that could potentially start moving again and hit them.

Finn thought that was cute.

Maybe Finn was looking at his personality the wrong way. Guarded wasn’t the right adjective for him - protective fit much better.

“New York City.” He rushed to answer Leo’s question as they reached the other side of the street, pointing out the Sid’s sign for Leo.

“Canada.” Logan said a bit gruffly, but you could hear the fondness in his voice.

Leo arched an eyebrow. “Now I understand why you’re so accustomed to the cold.”

Finn held open the door to Sid’s, motioning for the other two to go on ahead. “You’ll get used to it, too, Nut. Logan, can you believe he’s never had Sid’s before?”

Logan went off on a tangent about the perfection that is Sid’s margherita pizza as they were led to their table by a young waiter, who eyed them curiously. They sat down and Finn noticed Logan choosing a seat facing the rest of the restaurant, back to the wall. He looked around at the others in the building, only relaxing when he deemed the coast to be clear.

They quickly looked over the menu, Finn and Logan giving recommendations about their favorite dishes (practically all of them) and began telling lighthearted stories about where they were from and how they grew up while waiting for their food. Leo’s leg was constantly bouncing under the table, but he looked happy and relaxed, which Finn took as a good sign. Finn finally, finally got one of those rare New Year’s party smiles again, as well as a new sunny, dimpled smile from Leo - both of which he really wanted to keep seeing.

He didn’t understand why he was making such a big deal of causing his partners to smile.

Ok, he might’ve had a slight idea. But he didn’t want to think about it too hard. Not yet, at least.

It was only when their pizzas arrived that Logan brought out the big guns.

“So what made you decide to do this for a living?” He asked, sticking his tongue out to catch a stray string of cheese from his pizza slice. Finn tried not to follow the motion too closely, for his own sanity. “For me, it was Dumo. He was our next-door neighbor growing up, after we moved from Canada. I remember he was always away on business trips, but he would  come back looking exhausted and a little beat up. I’d go visit Celeste while he was away – she was always so worried, so I knew something was up. I can’t remember exactly how I found out, but I think I was thirteen or so when I figured out what his job was.” Logan shrugged. “Nothing else really interested me after that.”

“You guys are close, then?” Leo asked, maintaining eye contact with Logan and grabbing the container of red pepper flakes, liberally adding it to his pizza. Finn watched on in horror. Had he previously burned all his taste buds off or something?

Logan smiled. “Yeah. He’s like a dad to me. The whole family’s great. I babysit their kids all the time.”

That was a mental image Finn would be thinking about for the foreseeable future. God, he was screwed, wasn’t he?

He hurried to talk and take his mind off of it. “I got recruited right out of college. I’ve got a good memory and a knack for predicting people and how they’ll react to things. I jumped at the opportunity.” 

He smiled fondly at the memories his mind brought up. “My brother and I grew up on James Bond movies. How cool would it be to do that for my career? So I joined. The obvious next step was becoming a conman, I guess. It’s where I fit best.”

They looked to Leo, who seemed mildly embarrassed. “My Mama caught me pickpocketing on Bourbon Street.”

Logan and Finn took a moment to process that, and then cracked up. Leo waited for them to calm back down, smiling sheepishly before he continued, “She said if I was going to do stuff like that, I should at least be doing some good in the world. So she googled and found Gryffindor and asked some recruiters to meet with me. I came home from school one day to Blizzard and Talker sitting on my couch, eating my mom’s jambalaya.” Logan and Finn laughed again while Leo dragged his crust through some marinara sauce. “Next thing I knew, I was driving a moving truck across the country.”

“Do you miss home?” Logan asked, finally shoving his plate away.

Leo shrugged, looking back and forth between the other two knowingly. “Doesn’t everyone miss home, in one way or another?”

Finn wasn’t even sure what home was to him anymore. Maybe he’d figure it out one of these days. He glanced over at his new partners. Logan also looked pensive, apparently grappling with Leo’s words as well. 

Leo seemed completely unfazed, his leg bouncing again. “Does anyone want dessert?”

[infinites-chaser]

attachment theory | tears of themis | mo yi

deals with a few more serious themes but nothing too far off from the cases in game! also. suggestive ending pls avert ur eyes

vague, alluded to spoilers for mo yi's story and ch.2 of the main story :>

"not sleeping yet?"

for all its gentleness, mo yi's voice takes you by surprise-- you straighten abruptly from where you'd been hunched over a case file and there's a crunch in your neck-- you instantly regret it until the sudden pain's replaced with a gentle touch, and you're pulled back into his embrace, one hand resting warm around your waist, the other massaging circles around the tension in your neck.

"it's this case," you say, gesturing to the abandoned sheaf of papers. "it's bothering me."

his answering laugh's a tender vibration against your back.

"when do your cases not?"

"no," you reply, "this one's not hard, it just--"

"is bothering you," he finishes. you nod.

his hand slips from the back of your neck to rub gentle across your shoulder, then he leans forward to pick up the file, bringing the pages up to a level comfortable enough for the two of you to read together.

a silence passes. then,

"how nostalgic," he remarks. "a pick up artist and a jealous paramour."

you nod. it'd been a straightforward case: the client had gone through a bad breakup with their long-time partner, only to be preyed upon in her vulnerable state by a pick-up artist. when the ex-partner found out, he'd schemed against her, only for him and his plans to be foiled when she'd found out. it would've been simple for him to be charged, but his family had stepped in, had tried to argue it was all her, her and her abusive family, that she was just the same as them, that she'd been blackmailing and extorting him and they'd been relieved when she was finally gone.

you'd won the trial easily: it had hardly been a trial at all, more of a formality than anything else, but when you'd looked over at your client after the verdict, she hadn't looked happy. she hadn't looked proud.

she'd only looked miserable, sitting on the hard wooden bench, all alone.

you'd gone to her when the courtroom cleared, and she'd broken down, asked if this was all she would ever have in a relationship, if this was her fault, if all she ever did was seek out relationships with people who'd hurt her, just like her mother and father.

"is this all there is?" she'd asked. "to hope and hope for better and only be hurt more every time? I might as well not try at all anymore."

"that's not true at all," you'd replied. "i-- maybe I'm privileged to be able to say this, but I think we always have to keep trying, no matter how hard it gets. because what we want, the love we deserve-- it's worth it. it's something we'll never know if we give up now."

she'd fallen silent, after. you'd pulled her into a hug, and her fingers had dug deep into your shoulder blades, and for a long, shuddering moment, she hadn't let go.

"I wonder," you say now. "how much of us is from our parents? what do we inherit? what do we still have the power to change?"

though mo yi doesn't turn his head, you can feel his attention shift from the case files back to you.

"that woman," you continue, "she had a hard childhood. she had to raise herself. but her ex-boyfriend had caring parents. they'd do anything for him."

"you know," you say, "his mother even approached me before the trial."

"and what did she want?" he asks, voice soft.

you scoff.

"she told me she'd give me any sum of money if it meant her son's record would stay clean."

"oftentimes, parents will do anything for their children."

"she and her husband-- they love him a lot," you say. "they're good people. but--"

"but then why did he grow up like that? why did your client?"

you nod. he sits back, places the file aside, lets his fingers drum thoughtful across your back.

"humans are not so simple," he says at last. then, when you open your mouth,

"but you already know that."

you close your mouth as he laughs softly, then continues.

"psychologists used to think criminality was a gene. it's almost like some religions, if you think about it. you inherit the sins of your past life. if they did not live cleanly, then neither shall you. if your parents became criminals, then, inevitably, so would you."

"we know they're wrong now," he continues, "but isn't there some truth to that? who our parents are come to define who we are. or who we aren't. I believe in your client's and her ex's case, the latter is true."

"what do you mean?"

"your relationship with their parent when you're young shapes you. it's what each of us first learns attachment from. love, caring, connection-- it all stems from there. perhaps we look at your client's ex and his parents, and we see the love they have for him. the care. but for him, all he feels is that it's stifling. that he needs someone of his own to control."

his voice grows lower.

"perhaps, for your client, one might look at her, and how she raised herself, and find her independence admirable. but as you saw, rather than be happy with herself, rather than be proud, of surviving, of living well, despite all odds, all she finds in herself is her own loneliness."

he laughs softly. it isn't a happy sound.

"we humans," he says. "we often are trapped by circumstance, for reasons we can't control. but we often trap ourselves, too."

"we aren't like just that, though," you say. "humans can't always be defined just one way. we grow. we change. sometimes all we need is a direction, but it's never fixed-- there's always a choice. a chance for change. for becoming more."

a long silence passes.

"perhaps you're right," he says at last, voice almost wistful.

"but," he continues, "isn't that enough psychology for tonight? there's only so much information our brains can maintain without proper rest."

"rest?" you ask with a laugh, "what's that?"

"rest," he repeats, firmer. "it's nearly two in the morning. even if you feel awake right now, your body will regret it later."

you'd press him further about the sudden subject change, but something about the way his arms have gone tense around yours holds your tongue.

instead, you acknowledge his point with a nod and a sigh, and let him lead you back to lie down on the bed beside him.

you've had your eyes closed for all of a minute before he's pulled you into his arms, his head tucked warm under yours.

"to rest," he muses, "or to... relax."

"after all that talk about unhealthy attachment, what does this say about you, hm, Dr. Mo?" you chide gently. he chuckles, but doesn't let go, his breath warm at the base of your neck. you shiver. he pulls you closer.

"who can say," he murmurs as reply. "it's interesting, really. normally, I'd never think of myself as someone who gets attached. but around you--"

"around me what?" you echo.

"around you, I can't seem to help myself."

his voice is low. on another man, you'd call it almost needy, but with him, paradox, walking contradiction he is, it's a confessional. a prayer. a promise. a prediction.

"can't help yourself?" you repeat again, hoping the words don't betray the heat creeping over your cheeks. and there's a million questions you want to ask, about his parents, his past, the way he always pulls back from a conversation before you can catch a true glimpse of the inner him,

but he breathes in, breathes out. slow, langourous, savoring the moment, savoring you, and the questions quiet,

"I never can," he muses. "it's strange."

his head dips lower, the silver of his hair brushing low across your cheek.

"why you," he murmurs against the hollow of your throat. you don't dare breathe, dare move, dare think. then his lips find the curve of tender skin where neck meets collarbone and you inhale, sharp and fast, and you don't think at all.

you drown in him, his mouth on your skin, his teeth a gentle rough, his tongue teasing tender, quicksilver, lightning, lava, everything molten, leaving you breathless burning,

he surfaces between your legs, your fingers laced through his hair, turned silvered with sweat, golden gaze on yours, his hands tracing the course of your veins, your pulse racing hard and heavy under his touch.

"you," he breathes against your inner thigh, fingers ghosting gentle, ghosting higher, "you, you, a thousand times over. always you."

he presses his mouth to your skin, lets his lips skim upward, a hundred kisses in one, slow and teasing.

more than anything else, you think, we are what we choose to be. maybe there are parts of him you'll never quite know the way you want to, maybe there are certain things he can't give up, and the same goes for you. but despite his past, despite his secrets, you've always ever known one truth of mo yi, the truth of him when it comes to you.

(he chooses you, despite, despite, despite. and so do you. you choose, in the hopes of growth. of change. of something that'll last, something meaningful.)

"it's always you for me, too," you whisper, then let his lips claim yours.

[flutteringdreams-matw]

Out of Time (8)

First/Last

Read on AO3

Word Count: 4108

Previously: "Dan Phantom grew up to be one of the worst ghosts in the history of the Ghost Zone; he destroyed the world, and the ghost zone, multiple times over. In meeting you, he inadvertently created the one ghost powerful enough to stop him. He would have continued to raze the world if I hadn't saved your family, leaving no one left to stop him." Clockwork's smile fell, and dread started to pool in Danny's stomach again. "This paradox is the best shot of defeating him once and for all."

Danny nodded, feeling the crushing weight of his powers and responsibility. "Three outcomes?" he asked, bringing it back to Clockwork's original conversation.

"Three outcomes," Clockwork confirmed, frowning.

"One favourable," Danny finished, closing his eyes. Silence descended on the pair for a few minutes, Clockwork watching Danny's body stiffen as he slowly realized what that meant. "Clockwork," he said eventually in a small voice, looking up at the Time Master. "I'm not… I don't… survive this…. do I?"

Now: Danny meets with Valerie, Dani and Vlad.

Link to the next chapter will be in the replies once posted. As always - please let me know what you think!

---

"Okay, spill," Tucker said, glancing at Sam from the corner of his eye as he worked at the console. The girl in question looked at Tucker with wide eyes. "You've been mopey and distant ever since you came down here. Something must have happened." Sam sent him a weak glare of annoyance. Tucker chuckled quietly as he continued to type in code at the computer. He paused, looking at the screen in thought as he pulled up the shield schematics.

"Any luck?" Sam asked, breaking her silence.

Tucker sighed. "Kind of – I think we have the energy to create a shield of this size, but separating Danny's ecto-signature from his jerky self is difficult. I thought if we just used the sig from the booo-merang, it would be enough, but using that will either keep Danny out of the town or allow Dan to manipulate his way into it." He put his hands under his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I mean, it would help if we could get Plasmius' ecto-signature and try and figure out ratios, but something tells me that's an even worse idea at the moment. The only good thing about all this is we know that they have different ecto-signatures. We still have no idea why or how… but the fact they do means we can figure this out." Tucker swivelled his chair to face his best friend beside him. "Now, what's eating you? I could use the break and your presence is dampening my mood."

Sam sent the boy another glare, but sighed as she realized he wasn't going to let this go. "I was upstairs looking at some photos, ran into Danny…" she said, blushing slightly at the memory.

Tucker sat straighter in seat, eyes gleaming with excitement as Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Wait – you told him!?" Tucker exclaimed, gathering a few strange looks from the ghosts in the basement.

"No!" Sam yelped back, her face completely pink from embarrassment. "And would you keep it down?!"

Tucker held up his hands as an apology and gestured for her to continue. "So what happened?"

Sam sighed. "We were talking, next thing I knew he was bringing up Nocturn and…" she trailed off, suddenly crestfallen. "I stopped him before he said anything he was going to regret."

Tucker blinked, mouth opening and closing from the cluelessness of both of his friends. "Let me get this straight… Danny, our Danny, the most clueless idiot on the planet when it comes to his own feelings, was about to tell you how he felt about you and you stopped him?!"

"Of course I did!" she shot back. "He has no idea what he's feeling right now with all of that time energy and the visions going through his head. Didn't you hear what Mrs. Fenton said? He's reliving parts of a timeline where we all died, Tucker. I don't want –"

"To get your hopes up," Tucker finished, pointing a finger at the girl. "Sam, all three of us know how you and Danny feel about each other. I've known longer than probably both of you even realized it. You've been doing this dance for almost two years. If he's finally coming to his senses, regardless of whatever is happening, I think you should be jumping for joy. Or whatever Goths do when they're happy."

Sam sat silent for second before sighing. "I asked him why now," she admitted quietly. "He said he wasn't afraid anymore." Tucker made some excited gestures in victory as she continued. "If Clockwork hadn't interrupted, I'm fairly certain he would have said something."

Tucker watched as Sam looked down, lost in thought. "Sam," he said kindly. "Do you want things to change?" Violet eyes met teal ones as Tucker pressed on. "Danny just told you he's not afraid anymore… so what are you afraid of?"

"Of him not coming back," she said softly, looking away. Tucker's eyes widened as the words tumbled out of her mouth. "He's choosing this moment, the one where he's about to face off a big enemy, to tell me. Why would he do that if he didn't think he'd make it?"

Tucker sighed, annoyed. "You idiot." Sam's head whirled back to her best friend at the insult. Tucker's face was serious, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "The both of you. Sam – he knows what's at stake. Danny's not trying telling you to fulfill some stupid self-sacrifice ritual. He's trying to tell you to make sure he comes back. Sure he has a bazillion reasons but there's only one person that gives him the hope to fight through anything. He wants someone to fight for."

Sam stared at Tucker as his words sunk in. Tucker sighed as he turned his chair back to the screen in front of him. "Besides, if anything goes down, we're going out there to save his ass. The both of us - not just you lovebird. He's my best friend, I'm not going to let him lose to some jerkface. So stop being a Negative Nancy, go upstairs and tell our clueless Ghost Boy you like him."

Sam smiled, feeling more confident than she felt in a long time. "Thanks," she said quietly. Tucker smiled, not looking away from the screen and waved her off. She stood up, walked a few steps towards the staircase before stopping. She turned back to Tucker with an eyebrow raised. "Did you just say 'Negative Nancy?' What are you… 80?"

Tucker grimaced. "Shut up," he said, embarrassed. "I said what I said."

Sam chuckled a bit, turning, and came face to face with Clockwork. "Whoa!" she said, taking a few steps back. Tucker looked up at the pair, turning to face the mysterious time ghost with a small frown. "Clockwork! Is Danny still upstairs?"

Clockwork's red eyes looked over the human carefully, his face emotionless as ever as he floated toward the ground. "No," he said simply. Suddenly, he sighed. "I'm being summoned," he said, a hint of disdain and promptly vanished.

Sam and Tucker looked at each other in confusion as the world continued around them.

:-=-:

Green light illuminated Danny's face as he flew through Amity Park. He sighed, looking down toward the town; it had taken a lot for his parents to convince Vlad that the town was in danger and had agreed to up security. Now to add some more he thought as he continued to fly into the outskirts of Amity and into Elmerton, just under the shield.

There are only three possible outcomes here – only one of them is favourable.

Danny frowned as Clockwork's words came across his mind once again. It wasn't like he expected anything different; he knew that this battle would be difficult. He was literally his own worst enemy – powers, strategies everything. Well, almost everything. He shivered slightly as he remembered the coldness of Dan's voice threatening him. If there were three outcomes there had to be one of Dan winning. The jerk could take him out; in fact, he almost did a couple times already. There was also a possibility of him defeating Dan – though with the shield around the town and time energy attacking his core, that was looking pretty slim. Resignation filled the teen as he mulled over the last possible option before he shook his head; right now he had to focus.

Green eyes scanned the apartments below as he attempted to find the right building. Valerie's apartment should be around here somewhere. Danny landed onto the roof of the nearest building, crossing his arms in thought as he tried to remember her address. Without warning, blue sparks of energy coursed through him. Surprised, Danny let out a sharp groan of pain as he fell onto his knees, curling into himself. "Really?" he asked, annoyed as more time energy moved through his body.

The last time he had seen Valerie was the funeral. Why did she get to be so free? Why was it his burden? The hunter would pay; If his family was gone, maybe hers should follow.

Danny gasped as the vision left him, feeling ill as he tried to let the vision pass. He breathed hard, putting one hand out to steady himself as he felt more electricity come to the surface. "Not now," he said, pushing back against it. His core responded, flaring slightly as the energy started to dissipate. A few minutes later and Danny was left panting on the rooftop. "Still… not loving this," he grunted, finally regaining his bearings.

A whine of an ecto-gun from his right made him stiffen on instinct before he sighed heavily. His body relaxed slightly, feeling slightly more in control as he still knelt on the rooftop. "Hello Valerie," he said softly, not looking in her direction.

"Phantom," Valerie replied curtly, as she stopped the charging weapon. She floated in full ghost hunting gear, the red and black sled bobbing up and down in the wind. She put the gun in her holster, flying down to the rooftop and retracted her sled. The ghost in front of her still held his position on the ground, making her frown in confusion. "We've been looking for you."

Danny's head whipped up, looking at her through tired, confused eyes. "We?" he asked.

Valerie crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "Yo kid!" she yelled. "I found him!"

A grey and black blur flew upward toward them, landing next to Valerie gracefully. "Danny!" Danielle yelled, running over to her cousin quickly. "You're okay!" She threw her arms around the stunned boy in a large hug.

"Dani!" Danny exclaimed, standing slowly as the girl released him from the hug. Danny frowned worriedly as he looked between Danielle and Valerie. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

Valerie rolled her eyes, annoyed. "She's fine, I didn't hurt her," Valerie told him evenly. Dani frowned as she looked between the hunter and her cousin. "She got stuck here when you put up this stupid shield. She's staying at my place to avoid Plasmius."

Danny's eyes widened slightly, still frowning as he looked Danielle over. "How long have you been here?"

Danielle shrugged. "Almost a week," she said nonchalantly. Before Danny could protest, she pressed on. "Are you okay? We saw your fight on the T.V. yesterday. Who was that ghost? Why did you put the shield up? Who were the ghosts that helped you?"

Danny sighed tiredly, crossing his arms. He looked over at Valerie, who was surprisingly content to observe them. "I've been better," he told them cryptically. Valerie shifted and Danny saw her eyes move up and down, assessing him for any lies he may tell. "Had another run in with him last night too." Danny put a hand on Danielle's shoulder. "I'm glad you're here – honestly we could use the extra fire power." The younger girl beamed at him.

"Who's attacking the town?" Valerie asked bluntly, causing both ghosts to turn back to her.

Danny's face darkened. "A really long story," he replied. He caught Valerie's eye as the two teens stared at each other. Danny broke their gaze first, staring up at the shield. "He'll attack again tomorrow and I don't think this shield will last much longer."

Both Valerie and Danielle looked at him worriedly. "Danny, what are you talking about?" Danielle asked, confused. "The shield's been up for days! There's no way it'll break that easy."

Danny ignored her, looking directly at Valerie. "I need your help," he admitted. Valerie looked at him questioningly. "This ghost is something you have never faced before and will not hesitate to take out the town. If my shield goes, for whatever reason, I need you to protect it."

"I always protect the town," Valerie replied with a huff, looking away. Danielle looked at her quizzically, remaining silent as she looked between Danny and her new friend.

Danny sighed. "Valerie," he started, getting her attention again. "Regardless of what you think I am, Dan is much, much worse."

Valerie laughed. "Dan?" she asked. "Really? There are more of you named Danny Phantom?"

"Hey!" Danielle exclaimed indignantly. "I didn't ask for this name! Besides, I like it!"

Danny brought a gloved hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to lose his temper. "We don't have time for this," he told her urgently. His hand hands flew outward, moving quickly as he tried to press on. "If my shield goes down tomorrow, take whatever weapons you have, and defend Amity Park. You need to destroy him; take him down with whatever means necessary."

Danielle gasped as Valerie looked at him with wide eyes. Phantom never destroyed a ghost in a fight – Valerie had been stopped by him multiple times for trying to do just that. The fact that he was here, almost begging her to do just that was a testament of how desperate he must be. They were silent for a long time, Danny's words weighing heavily. The ghost boy looked away from the two teens in front of him, while all three tried to figure out what to say next. It was Valerie who broke the silence.

"Where will you be?"

Danny laughed darkly at the question. "It doesn't really matter where I'll be," he said bitterly. "If that shield goes down, it means I failed."

Both girls gasped at his tone. "Danny, no!" Danielle cried, grabbing him around the middle. Danny looked at her, surprised. "Let me go with you!"

Danny smiled gently at his cousin and knelt beside her. "It'll be okay," he said reassuringly, hugging her back. "I need you here – Amity Park needs one Phantom that can kick ghost butt." He heard her laugh into his shoulder. Pulling away, he put his hands on her shoulders. "The Fentons are working on a shield to keep Dan out; you should be safe because they have your exact ecto-signature from the last time you were here. If my shield goes down, their shield will go up. I'm not alone in this." He looked at Valerie once more before looking to his young counterpart. "Stick with Valerie. She'll protect you."

Danny stood again, patting Danielle on the shoulder affectionately. Green met green as Danny locked eyes with Valerie once again, the latter finally realizing the gravity of the situation. "Hey Dani," she called. "Can you give us a minute?" Danielle glanced at both older teens apprehensively, Danny giving her a small nod of approval before she agreed.

Valerie waited until she felt Dani was far enough away before she addressed the boy in front of her. "You were right," she said directly. Danny's eyebrows rose in confusion. "About Vlad – I went back after I released you that night… he really is Plasmius huh?"

Danny observed Valerie carefully before letting out a long breath. He didn't look her in the eye. "Does he know?"

Valerie shook her head. "If he does, he hasn't come after me," she told him. Danny's shoulders relaxed slightly but said nothing. "You've worked with Plasmius before, haven't you?" Danny nodded. "Are you going to him next?"

Danny's arm found the back of his neck awkwardly. "Unfortunately," he said. "Vlad might be an insane mastermind, but he is mayor of the town and powerful to boot. The Fentons have already reached out to create a security plan – I'm headed there to ask him to defend the town too. I doubt he would give up a chance to be the 'Saviour of Amity Park.'"

Valerie took off her helmet, her long hair dropping to her waist as she regarded the ghost in front of her. Neither teen spoke for a few moments, just staring at each other from across the rooftop. "I've seen that look in your eye before," she said softly. Danny looked at her, confused. "During the Ghost King attack - you took my mask off in front of my Dad. Back then, I thought you wanted me out of the way to trick the town. I went looking for you afterwards, to kick your ghost butt back to the Ghost Zone… but you were gone for almost a week afterwards." The two teens locked eyes again. "You're going to face this…Dan, aren't you? Just like the Ghost King." Valerie shifted her tone into an accusation. "You're not here for another team up, you're here in case that ghost wastes you."

They stood in silence for a few minutes after that, before Danny wordlessly nodded. The dark skinned girl was taken aback by his honesty, how much older and tired he looked in that moment. He was injured, almost begging for her help. Snow white hair moved softly in the wind, making his green eyes spark with determination through whatever he must be going through. He was the reason she became a ghost hunter and vowed to destroy... willing to risk his afterlife for a town of humans. She didn't understand –couldn't understand - but regarded him with determined eyes anyway.

"Okay Phantom," she assured. "I'll protect Amity Park and Dani from anyone who wants to hurt them. If that shield goes down, I'll go after this Dan with whatever I got."

Danny's entire body relaxed as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Valerie observed him carefully as he masked any uncertainty he must feel in her presence. "Be ready," he told her before teleporting away.

Valerie stood tall as she scanned the shield around the town. The mantle was passed – all she had to do was wait. It wasn't until Danielle came back to the rooftop and asked her what's wrong that she realised she was crying.

:-=-:

Clockwork sighed heavily as he watched many Observants fly off in different directions. He moved slowly, hovering feebly as he made his way inside of the Observant Tribunal Headquarters. As he entered, many more Observants flew about, often yelling about the 'end of the world.'

"Clockwork! There you are!"

The Time Master sighed again as an Observant came into view. The large eyeball seemed to be more accentuated by the deep black collar of his robe. Clockwork kept his staff on the ground, holding himself in place as the Observant came toward him.

"Is there any news?" the Observant asked desperately.

"As I have told you the previous seven times you've summoned me here – no," Clockwork replied firmly. "There has been no change to the time stream, nor the events that are to come."

"Are you sure Clockwork?"

Clockwork scoffed irritably. "If I could see past a paradox, believe me, I would have told you by now." He gestured to his appearance. "Or at least make myself younger – these trips are becoming tiresome."

The Obersvant's eye narrowed. "Your powers are fading – just like ours." When Clockwork didn't respond, the Observant continued. "So this is truly the end of time? The boy will lose and Dan Phantom will rule the world once more?"

Red eyes rolled in exasperation. "How are you so sure he'll lose?" Clockwork asked, ignoring the question. "He's beaten him before."

"Because of your interference!" the Observant snapped. "Even you can't stop a paradox Clockwork! Once these two face off, your powers will be locked until it is all over."

Clockwork turned his back toward the Observant. "I know my role during a paradox," Clockwork said dangerously. "The next twenty four hours will determine the pathways to the future. Will the Observants face the future head on or run away like the cowards they are?" Clockwork looked up at the Observants flying frantically in every direction. "How many times have you all asked me to intervene to save the timeline? How many times I've refused? You have no right to lecture me when I only interfered because the Observants asked." Clockwork pressed a button on his staff, engulfing him in a blue light. "I will be there when Time recovers, as I have been for centuries – regardless of what happens in this paradox."

The Observant scoffed at Clockwork's tone. "Your fondness of the boy has clouded your judgement," he accused.

Clockwork's red eyes narrowed as he looked back toward the Observant. "My fondness has done nothing," he replied coldly. "Danny Phantom will face his future self once more and once it is all over, I will return to my duty as the Master of Time, regardless of the outcome. You, however, will continue to be blinded by your fear and hatred." Clockwork looked up at the frantic ghosts one last time in disdain before he disappeared.

:-=-:

Dan's eyes were closed as he felt more shadows appear in front of Amity Park. His army was growing, made more powerful by his undeniable rage he felt for his younger self. How has the boy scraped by so easily, Dan thought angrily, eyes opening as he flew upward. He could see the shadows at the shield, ready to attack once he gave the signal.

The boy still had twelve hours left before they attacked. He observed the shield calculatingly, trying to find a weak point to destroy any pitiful resistance that the humans of Amity Park would attempt.

Danny will rue the day he locked me in that infernal thermos.

:-=-:

As he touched down in the Mayor's office, Danny grabbed hold of the closest solid object he could find and doubled over, gasping. His vision swam slightly, vaguely seeing a mass of ghosts attacking the shield as he tried to desperately focus on the task at hand. He felt the sparks of electricity run through his body again, grimacing at the now common event.

"It's about time, Daniel," the annoyed voice of Vlad Masters brought him into focus. Vlad turned at his desk, glaring at the young ghost. "Now, care to tell me what the hell is going on?" Danny said nothing, not quite catching his breath. He fell onto his knees, transforming back into Danny Fenton in the process. Vlad's face shifted from annoyed to concerned quickly, standing up slowly as he regarded the boy in front of him. Danny blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if he was trying to focus, panting from exertion. Vlad could sense the exhaustion the boy felt from where he stood, and sighed heavily. The man walked over to the wall and turning his hand intangible, he stuck it through, pressing a button. In an instant, the wall parted, revealing a steel blue safe. Vlad opened it and pulled out a small black pouch with Phantom's logo on it.

Finally making his way over to the teen, Vlad knelt in front of Danny. "Here," he said gently, helping the boy into the armchair that he was currently gripping for dear life. Once seated, Danny deflated slightly, finally starting to calm down.

"Vlad?" Danny asked, confused.

Vlad frowned as he watched Danny closely; the young half-ghost's breathing finally became normal, but was still quite weary. "Daniel," Vlad said softly. "You've had the shield up for four days now. It's exhausting your core; if you keep this up –"

"I know," Danny said, cutting him off. "But I need to keep them out."

Vlad's frown deepened at the boy's insistence. "What's going on?" Vlad pressed again.

Danny sighed heavily. "Apart from an evil version of me from the future trying to kill everyone I care about and the end of time?"

Vlad blinked, nonplussed, before regaining his thoughts. "You mean to tell me that the evil ghost that's been causing havoc both here and the ghost zone is you? Goody two-shoes Danny Phantom?" he asked incredulously.

"It's a long story," Danny replied ominously, looking away. "A lot had happened."

"Really? Did someone steal your thermos?" Vlad asked sarcastically.

Danny's head whipped forward and glared at the man in annoyance. "More like an explosion killed my friends and family, got sent to live with my cheesehead arch-enemy, asked you to rip out my ghost half who went crazy and merged with your ghost half and destroyed the world," he told the older man darkly.

Vlad blinked as the boy's words sank in, leaving a small silence in its wake. "And you know this how exactly?"

"Clockwork."

"The Master of Time?" Vlad asked incredulously. "You do get around, don't you."

Danny ignored him. "I stopped him once," he continued. "In an alternate timeline. But he exists out of the time stream-"

"Creating a paradox?" Vlad surmised. Danny nodded. "How far in the future are we talking here?"

"10 years."

"Meaning he also had my powers for 30 years," Vlad mused. He looked at his rival young again, noting how rigid the boy was in front of him. "How did you beat him last time?"

Danny looked away slightly, avoiding the question. "Vlad…" the younger half ghost gripped the arms of the chair harshly. "If the shield goes down… I need you to protect the town."

"Daniel?" Vlad was worried at the sudden shift in tone. Steely blue eyes watched as Danny shifted tiredly, grimacing at some unseen force wracked his small frame.

"Promise me," Danny said, looking at the older hybrid desperately. "He'll go after my parents, Jazz, Sam, Tucker. If I'm not strong enough-"

"Not strong enough? Daniel what on earth-" Vlad stopped, wide eyed as he realized what this was. "Daniel, no - I don't care what infernal complex you may have, but facing that ghost the way you are now? That's suicide."

"It's the only way," Danny said softly, shaking his head. Vlad scoffed at his tone. "Vlad, he basically has my ecto-signature. There can't be two of us in one time stream. The only way time can move forward again is if I face him."

"Alone?" Vlad sneered. "Contrary to what you believe little badger, the world does not rest on your shoulders."

"Vlad," Danny started, letting out a large breath. "He has an army – look at me. You and I both know I have no chance alone. Mom and Dad have a plan, so all I need to figure out is to get past to face him - just to make the time lines restart. When that happens, hopefully we'll figure out how to destroy him once and for all."

Vlad raised an eyebrow, questioningly. "We? Are you asking for my help?"

"Dammit Plasmius!" Danny exclaimed, stunning the billionaire at the outburst. Vlad took a few steps back at the sudden volume. "You think I want this? You think I like knowing there's an evil version of me waiting to destroy my friends and family and me? You think I wanted to come here today to beg you to save my family?" Danny's eyes lit up green in frustration. "Fine! I'm begging you, please: When my shield falls; protect my family and friends okay? Happy?! Do what you can to destroy him. You hear me? Whatever it takes."

They sat in stunned silence for a few moments, Danny's chest heaving from his outburst as he started to calm down.

Vlad recovered first, swallowing slightly.

"You said when," he said quietly. Danny looked away from the man. "Danny, you said when your shield falls. Not if." Danny stayed quiet, confirming Vlad's suspicions. The white haired man sighed, resigned to the boy's decision. "You have my word."

Danny deflated, nodding in acceptance. A heavy silence enveloped the room, neither half-ghost speaking. Vlad moved tentatively toward Danny, kneeling next to the boy once more. "Here," Vlad told him. He offered the small pouch he took from the safe to the teen. "I had these created after our run in with the Ghost King."

"What are they?"

"I call them Ecto-Enhancers," Vlad explained. "Think of them like an energy drink." He unzipped them and showed the teen three syringes, all glowing neon green. "They'll give your powers a bit of an extra boost when you're exhausted or hurt. It'll give your body a chance to recover if you're using a lot of energy. Only use them for extreme circumstances; use one every few hours." Danny nodded, taking the pouch. Vlad stood up, turning his back to the teen. Silence descended on the pair once more for a few minutes before Vlad broke it. "Daniel…" he started, before sighing, shaking his head. "Are you sure about this? Facing him?"

"Not like I have a choice," Danny mumbled. Vlad heard the teen grunt behind him. He turned to see to boy standing. "I should get going. Thanks for the Ecto-Enhancers."

"Danny wait," Vlad said, stopping the younger halfa in his tracks. They stared at each other for a second, neither speaking. There was so much Vlad wanted to say to the boy; they were so similar and yet so different. Eventually, Vlad broke the silence with a sigh. "Be careful."

A look of confusion washed across Danny's face briefly before it changed into a sad, guarded mask. Vlad saw it now; Danny's reserved acceptance of his fate, the understanding that he'll probably never make it out of whatever disaster awaits him. A small nod was all Vlad got as Danny transformed and flew out of the office.