shifting purple

Shades of Blue

For @azure-mirror, just because. Kind of based off of @marchingspace‘s Synesthesia AU (found here). Everything I know about Synesthesia comes from books and wikipedia. Put under a cut to save space. 


Colors. There were too many colors. His lion was red, always red, but today she was a softer red, like she knew, like she was trying to calm him down, like she could sense the pounding sensation in his forehead. Maybe she could. Keith didn’t know how the lions worked, not really. Maybe they could read their thoughts, knew their emotions, could adjust to help their paladins. That would be nice.

Pidge was bright, too bright sometimes, their voice sliding between octaves of lime and emerald and forest that made Keith’s headache worse. They didn’t mean to, he knew that.

Hunk was warmer, easier to be around unless he got excited. His autumn color switched then, from the fall yellow of maple leaves to the brightness of the sun. It hurt Keith’s eyes. It made him wonder if Hunk had always been yellow, or if he only was because of his lion.

If all of them were because of their lions.

But they weren’t, because Shiro was brown when he spoke. He was cinnamon when he commanded them, chocolate when he was scared. Sometimes it was almost black, but brown wasn’t usually too vibrant for Keith. He liked being around Shiro because he was calm, because he was brown.

Coran was good too, unless he was excited. He was an orange that made Keith think of leaf piles and pumpkins, but if he got too ecstatic over something he became the ugly orange of a traffic cone. Allura was a mixture of pinks and purples and reds, her voice like honeysuckle flowers and warmth. But she was too many colors for Keith, constantly fluctuating.

And Lance…

“Keith?”

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Alone (Reader x Gilgamesh)

A/N: When you get the distinct feeling that you’re writing things that you shouldn’t but you do it anyway because fuck it, honestly.

★★★★★ 

Cor had left you alone in the small chamber to make sure nothing had trailed after the two of you. Gladio had left earlier to complete a trial on his own. You sighed as you leant up again the wall of the cavern, happy for the moment of peace.

There was no way you could have let Gladio leave on his own. You knew something had been eating him up after the encounter with Ravus. You had known Gladiolus your entire life, he was your closest friend, pretty much a brother and there was no doubt that you had picked up that imperceptible change in his demeanour. As soon as he had declared that he was going to handle some business on his own, you had followed after him leaving no room for argument. Noctis had Prompto and Ignis with him so he would be fine.

At the time you didn’t realise Gladio had called up Cor for help, but it didn’t hurt having you around. Even if the Amicitia didn’t express it, you knew he was happy to have your support. He always was.

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The Boss Pt.2

It’s a little later than I had planned, but here it is! I hope you guys enjoy part 2! Thank you so much for your kind words on part 1; you’ve given me so much to live up to, haha! (I’m giffing the fuck out of the I’m Dying Up Here trailer).

After your shopping trip with Nat, Bucky wants to see where his money went (4,000 words; 70′s Bucky x Reader; 18+, smut; 70′s Bucky Barnes strip club AU; WOO BLOWJOBS!; Part 1.)

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2

“Go go go go go!” Peter’s voice sounds from behind you as you rush into the ship, climbing the ladder to the controls. He’s right behind you after shutting the hatch door, and the gunshots rock the ship as you try to get airborne.

Finally, you’re up and away, and both you and Peter sit in the same chair, you practically on top of him. “What the he’ll did we steal for all that violence?” You ask. Reaching in his pocket, Peter pulls out a purple gem, no bigger then your thumbnail, and your eyes grow wide. Even with its small size, it’s beautiful.

“This,” he says, twisting the jewel around in his hand, “is worth all the money you can imagine. A certain Lord would pay a lot for this.”

Mouth still wide open, you take the gem and twist it around, watching as it’s colors shift from shades of purple to blue, just by how the light hits it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is,” Peter responds, and you don’t know he’s looking at you, not the gem.

Giving it back to him, you stand up. “So, where to next, Starlord?”

He grins. “It sounds weird when you say it.”

“Shut up.”

anonymous asked:

prompt: marinette almost gets akuma. almost. the akuma flies away or so she thought. Throughout the week the akuma keeps coming back as different animals/ forms and keeps trying to egg her on to make her akumatized. (honestly this was a dream i had)

lol, I tried.  X’D


Marinette was known for her sheer optimism.  Other than that one, teeny, tiny exploitable force that she was certain only her best friend knew about.

Evidently not.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” sneered Chloe, not even bothering with a typical judgmental look.  The girl, tired from last night’s patrol, couldn’t be bothered to note the lack.

“Chloe,” responded the girl as she plopped down into her seat.  She was, for once, early and decided to attempt making the few precious moments before class as productive as she possibly could.

By sleeping.

Marinette put her head on her desk and burrowed in between two arms which weren’t a great pillow, but would have to do.  She closed her eyes and willed the silence to last just a bit longer.  Just so she could get five more minutes…

SLAM!

Marinette jerked out of her seat, her pillow of arms unfurling in order to defend herself from the sudden onslaught.  Blearily, she recognized the source of the sound as an object on her desk.  A ruler?  She looked up.

Mme. Bustier was less than pleased with Marinette.

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, while I appreciate your effort to come to the classroom on time, it would be beneficial for you to remain awake while here.”

“Yes, madame…” muttered Marinette meekly.  Mme. Bustier stood there for a moment before deciding to continue with the lesson, which appeared to be trigonometry.  Marinette glanced over to her side to see that Alya, her one and only true blue friend who would have kept her out of this mess, was no where to be found.  She glanced forward to Nino, confusion in her eyes.

Nino pantomimed throwing up and wiping his mouth.  Marinette got the picture.  She shuddered and turned her attention back to the front, now feeling slightly more awake.

A cruel chuckle from the right drew Marinette’s attention.  She glowered in Chloe’s direction for a moment, wondering what on earth was so funny.  After a few moments, the girl’s chortling died down.  And then she turned and looked at her and started again.  What was so funny?

“Marinette,” whispered Adrien.

Sweet, kind, perfect Adrien who had turned around and was pantomiming something at her.  What was he doing with his hands?  Rubbing his face?  His mouth?  Was he trying to impersonate a cat?

Dumbly, she found herself copying him.

And she wiped something wet from the corner of her mouth.

Shock flooded her system, rooting her to the spot.

No.  No no no no no no no nonoooooo….  Marinette glanced at the desk and sure enough, a small puddle of drool sat before her, a criminal that looked completely innocent.

Nino had pantomimed wiping his mouth.  She thought he had been talking about Alya still.  Chloe had kept chuckling at her.  She thought she was laughing at her in general.

Adrien had seen her with drool on her face.

Mortification swept through her and she hurried to hide the evidence, though the damage was done.  Her reputation was shattered.  Adrien would think she was a total loser and never want to associate with her again!  She–

Something slid into her peripheral vision.  A handkerchief?  What?

Marinette looked ahead to see Adrien sitting completely inconspicuously.  Completely innocent. Absolutely divine.  And as though he hadn’t just passed her her one and only salvation.  She glanced over at Nino to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.  He simply gestured for her to take it.

And take it she did.  Instantly, she felt so much better.  Adrien was kind and perfect and wonderful.  And he didn’t care if she drooled in her sleep–even though she really didn’t do it very often, only when she was face down.

Marinette cast these thoughts aside as she used the handkerchief to wipe her face and the desk clean as discreetly as possible.  In her love-induced joy, she almost didn’t notice the little purple butterfly  fluttering away from the window.

She wondered if it would be a problem for later, but she decided to enjoy the feeling of Adrien’s handkerchief in her fingers for now.


“Sorry, ‘Nette, I thought it was obvious,” apologized Nino as they left class.  He and Adrien had offered to spend the time with her as her best friend was currently MIA.  Nino’s presence was Marinette’s temporary grounding for Adrien’s presence.

“I thought you were telling me Alya was sick,” she said, glaring at him.  Half of it was because she really was mad.  Half was because she was trying desperately not to get tongue tied around Adrien.

“I was, but then I thought I’d warn you, but…”

Marinette sighed.  She couldn’t stay mad for too long.  His heart had been in the right place.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The raven haired girl turned to look at Chloe, who was standing a good five feet away.  It was odd, since the girl had a tendency to always get up close and personal with her victims.  Still, the girl appreciated the distance.

“What do you want?” asked Marinette.  “I’m trying to enjoy break.”

“I want you to get your slobbering self away from my Adrikins,” retorted Chloe.  “Nino may be dirty, but at least he doesn’t drool all over Adrihoney’s head or steal his handkerchief.”

“Hey!” called Nino.

“Chloe, she didn’t steal it, I gave it to her,” said Adrien.

“Look at you,” cooed Chloe.  “Still doing charity for the most pathetic people in class.”

Blood rushed into Marinette’s ears.  Seriously, how dare she?  Yeah, dinging on her in front of Adrien was mortifying, but dinging on Adrien in front of her was horrible!

“It’s not charity, Chloe!  He’s a genuinely nice person who does genuinely nice things!”

The blonde could only scoff.

“Please.  As if you would know about being genuinely nice, Maritrash.”

The girl struggled to keep a lid on her anger, she really did.  But then something happened.  Something absolutely awful.  Something despicable.

Poop landed on her shoulder.

White bird poop.

On her hand made.

Black.

Jacket.

If she was mortified this morning, she felt positively humiliated now.  Anger and shame washed through her and she wanted nothing more than to find some way to make Chloe pay.  She was only aggravating the wound.

Marinette, don’t let her get to you.

The thought jarred her from her anger.  How long had it been since her conscience had begun to sound like Tikki?

Nevertheless, the thought had left a small seed. It wasn’t Chloe’s fault.  Yeah, she was making it worse, but getting angry would only give her the satisfaction.

Spite, fuel her, she was going to have the best day ever no matter what.

“…ot nice, Chloe.  You should apologize.”

Adrien’s voice reached her ears and Marinette tuned into the conversation around her.  She saw Nino holding back his laughter while looking at Chloe, who looked shocked and maybe even a bit disgusted.  And Adrien…  he looked upset.

Such a look on his face saddened Marinette.

“Whatever,” said Chloe as she stomped away.  Confused, Marinette turned to the boys.  One was howling in laughter and the other looked at her with worry.

“Do you want to…Huh, you must have already done it…”

“Done what?” asked Marinette.  As an answer, Adrien pointed to her shoulder.

“Cleaned up the bird poop.  That was really quick, I didn’t even see it.  Is it some sort of secret seamstress knowledge?” asked the boy, his beautiful and innocent green eyes wide with curiosity.

Curiosity which Marinette shared.  But rather than look to her shoulder, she decided to scan the sky for the bird that had targeted her.

And worryingly enough, the bird flew past.  A deep shade of purple.


“..and then it left.”

Ladybug sat on the rooftops with her partner Chat Noir, going over her day and what she had seen.  Her partner gazed at her with half incredulation and half amusement.

“And you’re sure it wasn’t just a normal bird that pooped on you?”

“I’m sure, kitty.  Even if it didn’t mysteriously vanish when I felt better, it still gave off that same purple that the akumas give.”

“Well, are you sure–”

“Chat Noir, I’m sure.  It kept coming back throughout the day!  How everyone else missed it, I don’t know.  It came back as a bird, a rabbit, an armidillio, a ferret, a dog, even as a sea-otter!”

“A sea-otter?” asked Chat.  “And no one else saw it?”

“I swear on my Ladybug luck, a purple sea otter splashed me in the face, soaking my shirt in front of half my class.”

“And no one questioned it?”

“They all thought that it was a runaway from a zoo or something.  Half the class was trying to stop someone from taking pictures and the other half helped me clean off.”

Chat Noir frowned.  “It sounds like whatever this was was trying to make your day even worse.  Make you angry, maybe.”

“I’m almost positive that’s what it is.  I’m glad it didn’t follow…me…on…”

Oh no.  Oh heck to the no.  No way.  Nope, nope, nope, nope.

“Ladybug? What’s–oh!  Look, it’s a cat!”  Chat Noir reached for it with a smile.  “I wonder how it got up here.”

The anger that had been swiftly boiling at this thing’s audacity to turn itself into a cat broke.  Confusion took its place and wrapped around Ladybug.  It was right there.  Chat was about to pet the thing!  She grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back.

“My Lady!  Hey!”

“How are you not seeing what I’m seeing?”

“What are you seeing?  It looks like a black cat to me.”

“Are you sure?”

Ladybug glared at the cat which Chat claimed was black.  To her, it was a mass of purple, shifting and staring at her.  She took several deep breaths.  She didn’t have Marinette’s problems now, she was Ladybug.  Ladybug was a superhero.  Ladybug should be able to fact check.

Fact check.  What was something she did to akumas that wouldn’t hurt anything?

“Chat, I’m going to try something real quick.  If it fails, you can pet the cat, okay?”

“Uh, sure thing, bugaboo.”

Ladybug opened her yoyo and tossed it in the cat’s general direction.  Cursed with curiosity, the creature nudged itself closer to the light and sniffed.

And then Ladybug and Chat Noir literally watched an adult cat get sucked into Ladybug’s little yoyo.  The lid closed on top of the entrance and Ladybug could feel the creature within being purified.

“…did it really look like just a normal black cat to you?” asked Ladybug as she stared at her yoyo.

“Yeah,” answered Chat.  “And you said it’s been following you all day?”

Ladybug nodded before reaching to her yoyo.  She pressed the entrance and backed away, not sure what animal would come out.

Out flew a beautiful white butterfly.

Bewildered, Ladybug could only bid it a detached farewell.

New ref for horse mom~ 

Been desperately wanting a new cutie mark and I’m beside myself over this one made by @sirenibe ?? It’s seriously so perfect for me I actually wanna cry every time I see it pffbt, I tweaked my ponysona’s design to match it a little more and to reflect my shift towards liking purple a lot while still making her look like me so she doesn’t become her own oc pffbt

‘Angela in Wonderland’ AU Part 2

  • The forest Angela wonders in is dark. The twisted trees all looming above. She feels something watching her, and turns every corner waiting for a monster to attack.
  • “You look interesting. Lost, amgia?”
  • Twisting on the tips of her toes, Angela spies a wide grin in the darkness, flashing needle sharp teeth. The body of purple shadow shifts into light. Revealing a large black cat with stripes of purple down its back.
  • Angela tries to explain that she’s lost, but the cat waves its paw easily. She knows, and disappears into a tree trunk only to speak beside her shoulder. A shadow floating in the air as she starts to drift down a path.
  • The cat calls itself Sombra, and Angela finds it unnerving but not without placing her trust in her. They steady begin to walk out of the forest. 
  • “I’m not Mercy. Why do they think I am? I can’t bring someone back from the dead.”
  • The cat’s eyes are purple and large, grinning with secrets.
  • “I think you can only be if you want to be, amiga.”
  • Before Angela can ask what that means, the cat disappears and her foot steps into a clearing. A sort of party that went wrong decorates a table. A man sits on the edge of the table. Bowed over and showing only his green hair and a top hat with a blue ribbon tied to it. His hands run a stone along a sword, and he looks up at her presence. Gasping in awe at the sight of her.
  • “Mercy?” 
The Box

Read it on FFN

Read it on AO3

Summary: Saeran had watched him closely for a moment that felt much longer than it probably was before looking back down into the box. He reached in and pulled out a mesh shirt from the bottom, feeling out the soft netting between his fingers. “So you’ve never worn any of this?”

(I’m weak af when @ijaeli @itshaydere draws things)
(EDIT: THE THINGS)


Yoosung stuck his finger in one of the holes of his shirt. His cheeks burned as he wondered if it even really counted as a shirt. It was all white mesh, loose-fitting and showing much more skin that it covered. Well, skin and the strappy harness he wore under the mesh. How in the world had his day led him to this point?

His eyes landed on a nearby box, and he decided to lay all his blame there.

It had been his intention to do a little spring cleaning and donate some clothes that he didn’t wear often, but when he found a sweater he remembered Saeran showing an interest in, Yoosung decided to let Saeran pick out anything he’d like before donating everything. But then that box–that little, unassuming, unlabeled box–had gotten pulled out of the bottom of his closet with everything else and blended right in with all his donation boxes.

He was pretty sure he’d come as close to dying of embarrassment as any human probably ever had when Saeran had opened that particular box and lifted one shiny strap with a confused “What’s this?”

In his rush to find some way to explain the box and its contents, Yoosung’s brain and mouth failed to quite sync up and the only thing he managed was a stuttering, incoherent jumble of syllables and half-formed words. He had to cover his face with his hands, knowing full well just how red his face was, and take several deep breaths to slow down his racing thoughts. The entire time he tried to pull himself together, Saeran waited patiently and Yoosung wasn’t sure if that made him feel better about everything or not.

“They’re, um, harnesses and…collars that you wear,” Yoosung had explained, picking up one of several colorful plastic straps. “Some friends were throwing this themed party, and when they showed me what everyone would be wearing, I thought they were really cute! I went a little overboard and ended up ordering a few different types in a spree, but when the party rolled around, I was too embarrassed for anyone to see me in one and didn’t go,” he’d laughed, tight and awkward as he told his story. “I actually forgot I even had these.”

Saeran had watched him closely for a moment that felt much longer than it probably was before looking back down into the box. He reached in and pulled out a mesh shirt from the bottom, feeling out the soft netting between his fingers. “So you’ve never worn any of this?”

“Hm?” The question had surprised Yoosung, and his nerves about the whole thing had that awkward laughter bubbling up again as he said, “Ah, no, I never worked myself up to it.”

“Then how do you know you want to donate them?”

That had been the question that started it all. His explanations that it wasn’t his intent to donate that particular box (or ever let it see the light of day) had been brushed aside as Saeran told him he should at least try them on once. He’d spent the money on them, after all. And it was just the two of them, so there was no reason to feel embarrassed.

Yoosung wanted to argue, but he really couldn’t. With the amount of time they spent together, he really was more comfortable around Saeran than most people and knew Saeran wouldn’t judge him just because of something he wore, but still…the strappy vest harness and mesh shirt were much more revealing than anything he usually wore, even alone.

He’d insisted on changing in the bathroom so that he could at least psych himself up on his own before showing the result to someone else. He checked the little buckles (for the third time) and gave the straps a couple of tugs to get them settled so that everything was comfortable. Stretching his arms out to the side and then above his head, Yoosung gave a few twists and turns and was surprised at how comfortable it actually was. It wasn’t a restricting or cutting as he thought it might be. The mesh actually tickled a little as it slid over his skin.

“Okay,” he said with an exhale, turning to face the door back to Saeran’s room. Before more hesitation and doubt could creep in, he opened the door, as ready as he was going to be for whatever Saeran might say.

Only prepping himself for any comments he might receive, Yoosung was far from prepared to see Saeran in a harness and mesh shirt of his own. The blush that had been holding steady on his cheeks ever since the box was opened flamed brighter and managed to spread up to his ears and down his neck.

Before he could say anything about it, Saeran explained, “I wanted to try one on too, and I thought you might be more comfortable if someone else was wearing one.”

Somehow, Yoosung thought, Saeran also wearing a harness did make it a little easier, in an odd, flustering sort of way. Tugging at the solid hems of his mesh shirt for lack of anything better to do with his hands, Yoosung crossed the room to stand by Saeran and look at what was left in the box; two collars, a harness, and another shirt made of tighter mesh. He was startled when he felt Saeran touch one of the straps running across his stomach.

“I like it,” Saeran told him.

Yoosung looked down and saw Saeran’s fingertip tracing the swirls of shifting blues and purples and pinks. When he looked back up at Saeran’s face, he saw a small smile there.

“All the colors,” Saeran continued, “they just sort of…fit you.”

Doing his best to ignore his blush and the tight, ticklish feeling in his chest and stomach, Yoosung reached up and tugged at a large metal ring where several straps were attached just above Saeran’s bellybutton. “I like yours too,” he said with a smile of his own. Looking at the straps of shiny solid pink underneath the black mesh, he pointed out, “It matches the ends of your hair.”

Saeran lifted a hand to run through his hair as he spoke, a little unsure, “I’ve been thinking about letting my natural color grow back out.” There was a pause before he added in a softer voice, “Like Saeyoung.”

“I’m sure that’ll look good too, if that’s what you want to do,” Yoosung smiled trying to be supportive and encouraging. It was still pretty rare for Saeran to outright say that he wanted to do something just for himself.

Nodding, Saeran ran a finger under the choker part of the harness he was wearing as he said, “It’s tight in places but more comfortable than I was expecting.”

“Right?” Yoosung agreed, letting his surprise at how much he liked the harness-mesh combo push away the last lingering bits of embarrassment. “Once you get used to it, it’s really nice. I like the way the mesh feels.”

“So you’re not going to donate this box anymore?”

“I never meant to donate it to begin with,” Yoosung laughed awkwardly. He was actually pretty glad things had worked out the way they had. It would have been much worse to find that particular box at the donation site.

Saeran glanced over at the other boxes of donation clothes he’d been looking through for anything he liked before turning his attention back to Yoosung and touching the mesh and plastic he currently wore. “Even though you weren’t going to donate it, can I still keep this one?”

Not expecting the question, Yoosung laughed at being caught off guard by it. “Sure,” he nodded. “Let’s finish going through the other boxes too, though.”


They were still wearing the harnesses and mesh several hours later, having gotten used to the way they felt and looked and mostly forgetting about how far outside the norm it actually was for them. After sorting through the remaining boxes into Saeran’s picks and what would actually be donated now, they’d settled in the Choi household’s living room to play a game.

“Careful around this next corner,” Yoosung warned as he watched Saeran play. “There’s a trap that’s easy to miss.”

They were only half-aware of hearing the front door open and only paused the game when Saeyoung’s automatic greeting to them trailed off about halfway through.

Looking up, they saw Saeyoung staring at them, phone forgotten in his hand, likely still in the middle of texting someone. The older twin stared at them for a moment before opening his mouth to speak only to close it again. For the first time Yoosung could really recall, Seven looked speechless.

When it occurred to Yoosung what had momentarily knocked Saeyoung off balance, his blush from earlier returned full force and he was gearing up to explain what they were wearing when he was effectively cut off. 

Saeyoung lifted his phone without a word, took a picture of the two of them on the couch, and turned to continue on his way towards his room.

Yoosung and Saeran were a little confused by the reaction, but tried to brush it off as one of Saeyoung’s odd quirks. 

At least, that was the case until a new thread appeared in the RFA chatroom featuring their picture and the title “Yoosung is corrupting my baby brother.”

Six Sentence Sunday

This sounds like something a judge imposes on us all? And I got no defense, so here’s a snippet of Kiss Shot, my @erindarroch present. 

*

“Whaddaya say,” Han began, still peering into the workings of the jukebox, “We make this game a little more…interesting?”

“But I’m a beginner,” Leia said sweetly, neatly chalking her cue.

He grinned back at her over his shoulder, appreciative, disarming. The neon light from the jukebox shifted from purple to red, lending Han’s face a playfully devilish cast. “C’mon. What are you afraid of?”

“Going broke.” Leia gave a rueful sigh. “I hear you’re quite the mercenary.”

Black Honey: Pt. 4

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3  

Summary: Starfire and Robin are officially an item, but what does that mean when the resident empath is stuck living between their respective bedrooms? Finding a new bunk buddy in Beast Boy was certainly not her first choice, and when she engages in a strange, night time activity, how long before the changeling notices what she’s up to?


Things were starting to get out of hand.

Raven had given up on Beast Boy’s offer altogether, and her lack of sleep as a repercussion had started affecting her in battle.

Not only was she unable to meditate, but Robin and Starfire’s incessant lovemaking was causing her emotions to go out of whack. More often than not, she’d underestimate her strength, and send things flying into her teammates instead of the villains. It had nearly cost them the fight on numerous occasions and, when angrily confronted by their leader, she often looked away, embarrassed from beneath her hood before silently disappearing into a portal that directly led into her bedroom.

She could hardly use her powers to even levitate anymore, she was so terrified that she’d cause more damage if she even tried.

Raven stayed in her room to meditate during the times that Robin and Starfire were elsewhere, but no matter what, it just wasn’t enough. Sleep deprivation coupled with rampaging, unsatisfied hormones, was apparently a highly potent and detrimental combination. Her magic was super charged and on the fritz almost all the time, and if she dared to summon it for even the tiniest of tasks, she would cause the entire building’s lights to flicker and potentially go out, much to Cyborg’s displeasure. Not to mention, the one time she’d accidentally smashed her window; the spider like cracks had grown fast along the clear glass by the time she’d realized what she’d done, and she was far too chastised to tell Victor about it.

Oftentimes, after yet another incident, Robin would come knocking on her door, concern colouring his tone when he’d beckon the question on everyone’s mind; “Raven, is there anything you need to talk about?”

She’d panic, mortified at the mere prospect of opening that can of worms. “I’m fine, I just need to meditate,” she’d lie from inside her dark, lonely room.

“Alright, well, if you decide that you do, you know where to find me,” he’d tell her after a drawn-out, defeated sigh.

Once she’d hear his footsteps receding, she’d let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding and repeat her calming mantra to herself over and over again.

Azerath, Metrion, Zinthos.

Robin had never been the pushy type of leader where it concerned her; he always assumed that she’d go to him whenever she felt comfortable enough to do so, and that forcing anything out of her would only cause Raven to recoil further away. He provided her with the necessary space, and she provided him with the trust of opening up to him when ready. That was the level of unspoken respect the two held for one another.

Both Starfire and Cyborg had no doubt conveyed their concerns for their friend to Robin, who had, quite sternly, told them that he would be the one to investigate. After all, he had known how much she hated it when they all came pestering her about sensitive, personal issues. They must have all resolutely accepted their leader’s instruction, for she’d been pleasantly surprised at the lack of visitations from her other teammates.  Raven assumed that their hesitancy had probably stemmed from her complete shut out of even the boy wonder himself.

All of them, that is, but Beast Boy.

[THE REST IS UNDER THE CUT!]

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Thoughts on Pannacotta Fugo (an analysis that got long)

Fugo is commonly remembered as the one who turned down the call of the bizarre adventure and got Put On a Bus, but under the surface, there’s a lot more going on with Passione’s resident strawberry swiss cheese boy. Araki was at a loss for what to do with Fugo in part 5 proper, but then we got Purple Haze Feedback, and IMO, that light novel puts everything into beautiful perspective and portrays Fugo in a light that I find extremely relatable and interesting. So here’s a Fugo analysis based on my reading of PHF :

-Firstly, Fugo is only around 13 when he joins Passione. He’s so young, and the only options he’s left with after he’s disowned by his family are to fend for himself or join a gang. So he spends most of his childhood surrounded by emotionally neglectful authority figures, and another few years growing up under Passione. It’s not a healthy upbringing. (Bruno’s kindness had a major effect on Fugo, but Bruno, bless him, is only one man who was struggling under the weight of his own hardships as well.)

-Imagine how isolating it is to have a stand like Purple Haze. Its only ability is to kill, and Fugo can’t control it, and he’s scared of it. One accident, one loss of control, and Purple Haze could kill someone Fugo loves or Fugo himself. That’s bound to have pushed Fugo further into himself— fewer attachments mean fewer opportunities to lose someone. Then there’s the representational aspect of Purple Haze. Stands are reflections of the users, and Fugo considers his own stand grotesque, which makes him doubt his own worth even more. Purple Haze is a part of and a reflection of everything Fugo struggles with.

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