#{ all children except one grow up; peter }

[tenwhiteandalusians]

pertaining to the idea of tenax’s band of strays i do think it’s touching that the kids are the ones who saved him and waited outside the door to make sure he’s okay. for all tenax claims to be harsh and cruel it’s a fine indicator of his character that the kids won’t rest without him and are there every time he’s in danger.

[dreamofmourning]

the fact that what taylor swift’s speaker wonders about the gold rush figure in the years of their absence is getting more complex is so devastating. like given my appropriation of her song title to describe the defining phenomenon of my life, the change from wanting to know “did you stay beautiful?” to “are you still a mind reader?” has killed me

[magiicxkiingdcm]

peter pan tag drop

── ★ || peter pan || all children except one grow up || visage

[nerdygaymormon]

So I went to my Bishop with my concerns about the new policies (figuring, hey, if I lose Bishop roullette and get my temple recommend taken away for criticizing the Church, it might as well be worth it), and he showed me a really interesting verse. In D&C 74, it's talking about the early Church being conflicted about children of mixed member/non-member (aka Christian and Jewish, basically) marriages, and how they were considered unclean by the Jews since they were no longer circumcised. Anyway, long story short, the Lord reveals the following:

"Wherefore, for this cause the apostle wrote unto the church, giving unto them a commandment, not of the Lord, but of himself, that a believer should not be united to an unbeliever; except the law of Moses should be done away among them"

The key to this verse is that Peter gave a commandment that was not of the Lord. We tend to attribute a lot of infallibility to our leaders in the Church, but this verse plainly says that here was the head of the Church, a prophet of God, giving a commandment of himself in order to solve what he saw as a problem for the Church.

I see this as a direct rebuke of the doctrine of prophetic infallibility, and a reassurance that the Lord lets his prophets have agency, for better or for worse. As my Bishop said, "The Lord allows agency at all levels of the Church." We also chatted about the Plan of Salvation, and how there's a plan for everyone, even if the Church doesn't acknowledge one currently. It was an incredible talk with an ecclesiastical leader, and it showed me that there is hope that the Church can and will change over time, especially as we strive to live the Two Great Commandments of God.

You've been a huge help to my testimony when it's been weak, and I hope this helps you as much as it helped me. Much love from Colorado!

Thank you for that kind note. Also, I recognize the courage it took for you to speak with your bishop.

Your bishop gave great insight, that here we have being taught in our scriptures that sometimes apostles teach their own opinions as commandments when they are actually in opposition to the Lord.

I think it's insightful to see that the Lord's way was more liberal and inclusive than the apostle thought, which reminds me of Joseph Smith's teaching that "Our Heavenly Father is more liberal in his views, and boundless in his mercies and blessings, than we are ready to believe or receive."

The LDS Church teaches that prophets and apostles are capable of error, despite being called of God and receiving revelation, which makes sense because these are imperfect men so it seems obvious they may make mistakes. If it weren't this way it would be unique in the history of the world.

However, in practice Latter-day Saints often teach that the prophet of the church literally cannot lead church members astray or teach false doctrine, as a way of emphasizing the importance of following the prophet.

I think holding up our apostles and prophets as infallible is unfair to them as it puts them in an impossible situation, it doesn't allow them to grow, it makes them less likely to correct previous errors and therefore prolongs the time we live under the incorrect teachings & policies, and it may make them cautious to act.

I agree with your bishop that there's a plan for everyone, even if the Church doesn't acknowledge this. I have said something similar, that I believe I'm included in God's plan even if I'm not in the church's version of that plan.

I think your bishop gave some wise insight and underlines my belief that the things which are right about the church can fix the things which are wrong.

Also, I think it's useful to think of the two great commandments and use that as a filter to determine if these teachings from our leaders are more or less likely to be the Lord's will .

Thanks so much for sharing!💖

[olsenmyolsen]

Vampire Things

master list

dark master list

MCU AU (Vampire Reader X Wanda Maximoff)

Sudo-sequel to Feeling Used

Summary: You feel at peace with the Avengers thanks to Wanda Maximoff. But what happens when your feelings run deep for her?

Word Count: 3.1K

Content Warnings: Blood, Mentions of Hydra if you squint

Special thanks to everyone who voted on the poll ❤️

It's been about eight months since Wanda Maximoff, and you became best friends.

What started out as her saving you from a nightmare to watch TV and play twenty questions about your abilities has blossomed into so much more. She's been there for everything. Your training, bad days, and acclimating you to living in the U.S. with help from the others as well.

Natasha rolls her eyes as you and Wanda come running into the kitchen, smiling from ear to ear. "Jesus, you'd think we have children around here." She mumbles to Peter, who looks up from his textbook, a little afraid. "But I- I am a child..." The Seventeen-year-old states, making Natasha lift her head from her phone and look over Peter.

"Hmm, oh yeah."

Without saying another word, The Black Widow gets up and puts her dishes in the sink, walking past the two of you while leaving Peter confused.

You look over to Peter as Wanda focuses on gathering snacks for your movie marathon of Lord of the Rings. Wanda, having never finished them and you having never seen them only made sense. Plus, whatever to get Bucky to shut the hell up about the books. "Don't mind Natasha Peter. She just misses Maria."

Peter looks to you.

"How do you know?" You smile and walk towards the boy. You point to your ears. "Hearing her heartbeat gives it away. She was texting Maria." Peter makes an oh face. "That's kinda cool." Peter decides and gives you a smile.

You smile back and almost laugh when you remember that there was a point when Peter was afraid of you. Being a Vampire isn't exactly the easiest thing to be.

"Be careful, Peter, don't keep filling her ego!"

You playfully roll your eyes when Wanda decides to speak up. "Don't pressure the kid Maximoff!" You yell back to Peter's amusement. The youngling loves being around you and Wanda. He often times feels like a younger brother to the two of you, especially when Pietro gets involved.

You turn around and head back to Wanda, who eyes you and then looks to Peter. "So whatcha doing, Peter?"

"Wanda." You interject, knowing what she's doing. But she ignores you as you round the kitchen island to stand next to her. Peter looks from you to Wanda and swallows his nerves. "Just some homework. Ya- know it's important and all!" The kid begins moving his leg a thousand miles an hour, much to Wanda's delight.

"Oh my god! Quit torturing him."

You send your thoughts to Wanda, who turns to you with an arms full of junk food and candy. Most of which you had never had until Wanda introduced you to them. You decided sour candy was your favorite. Chocolate was Wandas.

"It's just a little funny."

You shake your head at Wanda's actions.

You see, since you and the witch have gotten closer and closer, it's been noticed amongst the other crime fighters you live with. However, no one stupidly had the nerve to say anything except for a teenager dressed in red and blue.

It was innocent, honestly. Peter was joining the Avengers for a Friday night dinner—Gilmore Girls style. When you and Wanda showed up late with messy hair and comfy clothes, no one batted an eye, mainly because they knew you and Wanda had a knack for taking afternoon naps after a mission.

But Peter didn't know that.

So when you and Wanda sat down and apologized for being late, he made a comment along the lines of "at least you two make a cute couple."

Everyone froze, not knowing how to approach the situation until Wanda broke the tension with a giggle—making everyone laugh. Like I said. Everyone laughed except you.

What Peter said only made the feelings you had as of late grow and shrink in a matter of seconds. Your constant battle for whether it was right or wrong to fall for your best friend was now seemingly squashed when Wanda laughed at the idea.

She liked the joke so much she had now used it as a means of playful torture towards the boy.

But your feelings remained.

Since being saved, one person has been by your side.

Most days, you wake up by their side and smile at the thought of them being around forever with you. You look at her as if she was a goddess. You get lost in her eyes and smile when you see her smile. Everything she does, you watch her do with a soft heart-shaped gaze.

You were in love with Wanda Maximoff.

"Detka?"

You hummed and looked over to your best friend. "Yeah?" Wanda looked you over and tilted her head a little worried. "You okay? I called your name multiple times." Wanda's face was filled with worry. "Sorry. Got lost in my head." You made a believable smile and laughed. "Vampire things." You joked at the excuse Pitero uses all the time when he doesn't understand why you do or do not do something a certain way.

Wanda nodded along and smiled as if she believed you. "Alright. Here." She handed you a bag of chips. "Help me." You picked up a few more things and started following Wanda out. The two of you saying bye to a very thankful Peter Parker.

When you got to the elevator, you laughed at the sound of Peters's heartbeat finally slowing down.

Once in Wanda's room, the Sokovian didn't have to pry into your mind to know that something was bothering you.

Maybe bothering wasn't the right word.

But whatever it was, Wanda could tell it was loud in your head.

That's the way things have been for a couple of months now. Wanda would notice how you often you'd fall in and out of your own head. Getting trapped by the loud thoughts, Wanda wouldn't dare to invade. She only went into your head to help you with your nightmares. She even did it more times than you knew of.

So Wanda would wait for you to come to her. But you didn't. And things would go back to normal between the two of you.

But as the two of you sat on the bed, ready to watch Lord of the Rings, Wanda decided to say something.

"Y/N.."

You looked over to your right as Wanda anxiously bit her lip. "What's up?" You cautiously held her left hand. "Is something wrong?" You asked, running your tongue over your pointed fangs. A nervous habit you had yet to break.

When your eyes locked onto hers, not only could you feel your heartbeat rapidly increase. But you could feel the beats of Wanda's as she nervously decided to ask: "Is everything okay?"

Wanda tightly wrapped her fingers around your own. "Yeah... I believe so." You answered without much conviction.

Wanda frowned. "I can tell somethings bothering you." You sighed. "It's fine." You smiled and squeezed Wanda's hand before moving your attention to the black screen of the paused movie.

Wanda knew you were lying.

"Y/N. You can tell me. I promise to listen. You can trust me." She says with a hint of sadness. Almost like she's afraid that you couldn't trust her. "Wanda..." You swallow and look to your left, away from her.

Do you tell her the truth?

You bit your bottom lip, allowing your fangs to stick out and glide along your skin.

If you weren't so in your head, you would've noticed the increase in Wanda's heartbeat and how her skin seemed to heat up under your touch.

"I- I know I can trust you, Wands..." You look back to your best friend with the green eyes of the girl you've fallen for. "It's just... complicated."

"Okay.." Wanda nods. "It's okay. You can tell me."

Wanda doesn't want to give up. Neither of you do when you need each other.

"I know I can tell you. I trust you more than anyone, but-"

"But what?" Wanda interrupts, gripping her hand around yours harder, moving so she's more in front of you. Blocking the movie that will never be played. Her eyes searching yours.

You look back at her and worry if it'll be for the last time.

Wanda's head fills with thoughts of you, and she worries if she's done something wrong.

"Tell me..." Wanda pleads with a whisper.

"Wanda-"

"Tell me!"

"I'm in love with you!"

The second those words fall from your lips, the AI system alerts Wanda's room in the compound that a sudden mission is about to take place—wheels up in 10 minutes.

You stare at the Sokovain's eyes, and they don't give you any indication of what Wanda is feeling. All you know is that it hurts when you feel Wanda loosen her grip on your hand. You swallow and slowly pull away.

You decide not to listen to Wanda's heartbeat and instead distract yourself by preparing for the mission.

You delicately get up from Wanda's bed and make your way to the door, feeling unsure of where the two of you stand. You don't want to look back, but you must when a red mist stops you from leaving.

"Wanda..." Her name comes out in a calm, defeated tone.

Her body sits still, but her face contorts into one of confusion. Her eyes pool with tears above the red glow of her iris. And then... they fade, and the mist dissipates as she looks up at you. "Y/N..."

"Wanda, we don't have to-"

"You love me?" Those three words come out of her cracking throat. You watch a tear fall down her cheek before reacting and moving to sit in front of her.

Wanda watches you approach and take her hands in yours.

"I do. I do love you, Wanda." You want to say more. But you don't know what. Would you say you're sorry for falling for your best friend? Would you tell her that she's the reason you're even still an Avenger?

You don't know. So you leave it at that as Wanda looks at you.

This time, Wanda removes her hand from your hold before slightly raising it. "Ma- May I?" Wanda asks permission to enter your mind. Wanda wants to the extent of your love. She wants to know why or how you fell for her. Because truth be told, Wanda can't believe it. She's never had someone confess to her before.

You trust Wanda with all your heart. So you take her hand and place it above your head. "Go ahead."

Wanda thanks you and closes her eyes as thin red lines of Wanda's magic extend themselves from her as they enter your mind. You're always too sleepy or focused on your panic attack from a nightmare that you've never really felt what it's like for Wanda to enter your mind, but it makes the ends of your lips curl up. It's ticklish.

You watch Wanda smile and laugh at what you assume to be memories between the two of you. You wish you could see exactly what she's looking at in this moment, but you're just happy to be sharing how you see the witch with Wanda herself.

You feel the magic begin to decrease in your mind, and you watch as Wanda's smile grows before she opens her green eyes back to you. Her hand returning to her lap. Wanda opens her mouth but closes it immediately.

"Is... is that really how you see me, detka?" Wanda asks shyly with a tilt of her head. "Every day." You answer. Wanda smiles and gives you her hand to hold. Her thumb rubbing over yours.

"I remember... I remember the first night you came into my room." Wanda smiles, and you look at her confused before thinking she probably saw that memory. "You were nervous and shy." She states the obvious before pausing. "...I love you too, Y/N. I didn't need to look into your mind to know how I feel about you. I just wanted to see how you feel that way about me.."

The last sentence catches you off guard.

"Wanda..." You see another tear fall, and within a second, you are holding Wanda in your arms. Her head is in the crook of your neck. You let her silently cry for a few moments.

When Wanda finally sniffles and pulls away, you move your hands up to her face and hold her. You wipe away the tear tracks and find yourself nervous to be this close to Wanda. You hear a spike in Wanda's heartbeat as your soft hands brush her skin, making you look up from her lips to her eyes.

"Can I?"

"Please," Wanda telepathically replies. You brush over her cheeks one more time before you move into her. Gently and carefully, your lips touch. Wanda feels and tastes better than you ever imagined. Her soft lips push against yours until you both separate.

No additional words are said or unsaid when you and Wanda collide with each other again. This time, the kiss is rougher and more urgent. Wanda loves how you feel and marvels at the way your breath feels on her mouth. She wants more of you, and you want more of her so much so that- "Ow!"

In the blink of an eye, you backed away from Wanda and felt your beating heart break at the sight of Wanda's bleeding lip.

Her hand flew up to her mouth before she looked at you. You who was wearing a horrified look. "Oh my God, Wanda! I'm so sorry!!" Wanda, with wide eyes, looked at the blood on her finger. "Is this from-" Wanda looked up, and you knew what had caused this. You lifted your lip for her to get a look at your right fang.

No longer red.

"I didn't mean to Wands!" You had a sad look as you begged for Wanda to listen to you. But she knew. "It's okay." She licked her lip and felt okay when she didn't wince. "Y/N, I'm fine." You didn't want to hear it, though. "No, Wanda, I hurt you.." Your voice cracked.

This one was one of the many reasons why telling Wanda the truth about your feelings wouldn't be good. You could always hurt her.

Wanda saw you spiraling and getting trapped in your head again. She went to reach out to you but stopped. A light bulb went off above her head. Regardless of what territory you and Wanda were in right now, she could now do what she had wanted to do before.

Wanda leaned over and removed your hands from your face before she pushed you down onto the bed as her lips smashed into yours once again. You tried to stop Wanda, but she knew you would. So, as she laid kiss after kiss on your lips, you found your hands were stopped by a red mist of magic before they could even touch Wanda.

Suddenly you felt very hot.

"Wanda..." You bit back a moan as Wanda lifted herself off of you. "Y/N." She replied with a smile. "You don't hurt me." She said when you didn't answer. You sighed as you looked over Wanda's lip. "But-"

"Y/N, stop," Wanda warned. "Look at me. I'm fine. If we're going to start dating, then this is going to happen."

Wanda was right. Accidents with your pointed teeth were going to happen. Mostly because you were never close enough to anyone like Wanda before. You never had to be friendly or gentle to people if your fangs were going to be involved.

You were made to be a monster, but Wanda never saw you as that.

"And... I kinda liked it." Wanda blushed when you looked into her eyes. "It felt good being... feeling your teeth. Being marked by you."

Your brain crashed.

"Did you like it... the taste of me?" Wanda asked that, on the surface, would appear as an innocent question. But it was burning her on the inside. Wanda needed to know if you felt what she did.

You nodded. "You tasted better than I ever could have imagined.." Your hands found Wanda's face again. Wanda started to lean in. "I only need and want you." Your mouth opened as Wanda closed her eyes, her lips finding your neck-

"Hey guys- Oh my God!"

You pulled back while Wanda pushed the top half of her body off of you as you both turned to see Peter in his Spider-Man suit staring at the two of you. Jaw dropped. "I- I'm sorr- Wait, how long- No! I- Cap said to get you."

Peter continued to stumble and flail over his words until he managed to say: "Quinjet. Downstairs. Now!"

You and Wanda watched Peter leave red in the face. "Well, cats outta the bag," Wanda said, making you laugh. "I never understood that phrase. What cat? Why was it in the bag? It doesn't make sense." Wanda tilted her head before smiling. "The Vampire just said that." Wanda giggled as you rolled your eyes, and even though you were needed for a mission, you and the witch didn't move.

"Wanda, what happens between us now." You rubbed your hands up and down her arms. "Now..." She leaned down to be on top of you again. "Detka, I'd like to be your girlfriend."

"Really?" Wanda laughed at your surprised look. "If you saw how I see you, Y/N, you wouldn't be surprised."

"Maybe later." Wanda nodded and added. "After the mission. But for now." Wanda leaned into you and put her lips next to your ear. "I want you to kiss me." You turned your head to her and placed your lips on Wanda's and her small cut. The pain that came with it morphed into pleasure.

"I want to feel you," Wanda spoke in a whisper when your lips separated. "But-"

"You could never hurt me. I trust you and all your Vampire Things." Wanda's lips curled upward as yours did the same. "Let's save it till after the mission. I can hear Cap making his way here." Wanda groaned, having to get up.

"Fine. But after I have a talk with Spider-Boy, I want to sit down and kiss my girlfriend and watch Lord of the Rings."

"Girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend."

A/N: Enjoy this instead of getting your hearts broken

dividers by @/benkeibear

[moutainrusing]

Peter’s sorting

Brimming with nerves, Peter trembled as the brim of the Sorting Hat fell over his head. It was dark and smelled old, dusty and musty with the sweat of previous eleven-year-old heads; a heavy, built-up, rotten scent that made Peter scrunch his nose. His mother always said that if Peter had whiskers when he did that, he’d look like a rat. Peter always felt ugly then. He resolved to stop scrunching his nose, which only allowed the pungent odour to hit his senses full-force. It smelled like his father. His father was known for his obscene ability to sweat profusely in even the coldest of weathers, for the way his natural stench overwhelmed even the strongest of deodorants. Apparently when Peter grew into his manliness, he would smell just like that.

Peter didn’t want to smell like that. He didn’t want to be under this hat. He didn’t want to be sat in the centre of the Great Hall with everyone’s eyes on him; he wanted to go home, go home and never grow, never grow and never be ugly. Children weren’t ugly and children weren’t smelly and children didn’t have to be in the centre with everyone’s eyes on them.

He wondered if James was looking at him. James Potter, who would be next to sit under the hat, right after Peter Pettigrew, and what if James smells how bad Peter made this hat stink, what if James feels Peter’s sweat on his skin and winces in disgust, what if James never talks to him again? James couldn’t not talk to him again, James was the only reason Peter was doing this. McGonagall had called, “Pettigrew, Peter,” and Peter’s flight instinct had kicked in, telling him to run in the opposite direction and never come back. Enough time admiring the ceiling – Pettigrews were too ugly for pretty things anyway – now was the time to run away and hide his face and no one would see him grow old.

Except James had eagerly pushed him towards the hat, “Go on, Pete, my turn next! Be quick, will you? I can’t wait!” He’d been jumping with excitement, the giddiness emanating from his fingertips as they pressed into Peter’s arms, and now Peter raised his own fingers to those arms, to the same place where James had touched. His arms were too squishy, too much fat making them saggy, patchy red and awful to touch. He couldn’t believe James had touched them. Maybe James hated him now. Actually, James would definitely hate him now, because Peter was supposed to be quick, but he’d been under this hat for ages.

James was probably tapping his foot impatiently, glaring at the rolls of Peter’s stomach (Peter inhaled deeply to suck them in), thinking about how Peter was ugly and stupid and cruel. How could Peter hold up James’s time with the hat? How could Peter be before James in the register, when James was better, more deserving, more clever and kind and stunning?

“Are you finished?” a voice asked.

Peter startled. The hat was speaking to him. The hat had a voice. The hat had a voice, which was quiet and firm and not at all like a hat. If hats ever were to have voices, which would have never occurred to Peter to even imagine such a thing, then Peter would expect (even though he wouldn’t expect a hat to speak at all) the hat to sound creaky, ancient, out of breath, dying.

“Now that’s enough,” the hat said. It sounded like his mother when she rolled her eyes at him.

It continued, “Plenty of cowardice and fear, but those aren’t defining traits of any house. Perhaps you were right, Peter. You don’t belong in Hogwarts, you belong at home.”

Peter tensed. He didn’t want to belong in his home. His home was where his parents belonged, and he didn’t want to be like them. He just wanted to be… nowhere.

No, he didn’t.

He wanted to be with James. But he couldn’t have that. James belonged in Gryffindor, and Peter belonged nowhere.

“You are the opposite of a Gryffindor,” the hat stated bluntly. “You seem loyal to James, but not to your family, so you could easily abandon him too. So you are not a Hufflepuff.”

After a pause, the hat decided, “You are not a Ravenclaw.”

I could be smart, Peter thought. He could be. He noticed people.

“And then you use them.”

In what way did he ever use them?

“You’d cling to them. Like a leech. Feed off them, if you thought they’d help you survive. You’re clever like that. Clever in a cunning way, because you know how to survive, but you’d do it without giving anything away.”

When had he ever…?

“Why do you want James so much, if not for your own survival?”

Oh.

“And why don’t you like your parents? Do they help you survive?”

No, a very evil-sounding voice in Peter’s mind whispered. He didn’t know how to argue with it. Am I a Slytherin?

The hat seemed to think about that. “Would you want to be?”

Did it matter what Peter wanted? He was clearly evil. There was something inside of him that could make him turn against even the people he loved. Because he used to love his parents, but when society decided that his parents were ugly, he chose society over them. Like a leech, he’d cling to whatever that helped him survive. A chameleon, he’d blend in with the majority. He’d go home, but home always changed for him. Home was where the heart was, and Peter’s heart didn’t exist. His home was nowhere. His home was chosen by other people. If other people wanted him to be somewhere, he’d do it, in a heartbeat, a heartbeat of his non-existent heart. But only if those people could help him survive.

So maybe he did belong in Slytherin.

“I didn’t ask where you belonged, I asked where you wanted to be.”

You already know that.

“James Potter.” James Potter.

Was that evil of Peter to want? But how could someone stop their wanting?

“In Slytherin, the students would slaughter you.”

Peter wanted to laugh. Bitterly. They would, of course. What did it matter when he belonged there?

“You don’t care?”

I’m not allowed to care.

“They would bully you. Torment you, tease you, use you, belittle you—”

I know how to use people too. If you’re going to put me in Slytherin, then just get over with it.

“But Peter, why would I put you there when you don’t care?”

This hat really likes mind games, Peter thought, and he hated it.

“When you don’t care, it means you’re not scared. The Slytherins would make you bleed.”

My blood probably belongs with them.

“I can see everything inside you, Peter. You’re not scared. All you think is that you deserve it. A martyr?”

Therapy?

“I wish I could give that to you.”

And then the Sorting Hat yelled for the whole hall to hear, “GRYFFINDOR!”

[llamasaysrandomstuff]

intermezzo

circling the lives of two brothers who have just lost their father, intermezzo spoke to my heart.

(just to start, the lack of quotations doesnt bother me at all. in fact, when i read my first rooney book, normal people, the lack of them did not even phase me. it was only after seeing multiple people being offended on the internet i realised that it was such a big controversy.)

the joycean writing style appealed to me and the stream of conscious thoughts made it feel like i was reading the characters journal.

when i started the book i was certain that i would relate to ivan, the younger brother, the chess prodigy. mostly because of his personality (not brilliance). shy, reserved, and an awkward conversationalist. i saw myself reflected in the way ivan carried himself. a lil too familiar with being afraid to exist in the moment and claiming space for yourself. struggling with his falling rank in chess and wanting to succeed, ivan soon finds peace and love with a women twice his age. a person who understands him better than most.

you have all these dreams that you're going to keep getting better and better. and then in reality you just start getting worse, and you don't even understand why.

but as the story progressed, i saw peters perspective more clearly. as the elder sibling he felt compelled to check up on ivan. to talk to him after the death of their father. despite struggling with his own issues regarding mental health and love life, peter still makes the effort to give space in his life to his family. an unreciprocated action.

peters seemingly posh life is disturbed by his ongoing indecisiveness. actually, that may not be the right term, he wasn't entirely indecisive. he knew he was in love with both the women in his life. sylvia, his college sweetheart, and naomi, the twentysomething college student. starting with a sexual connection in exchange for money and material possessions, their relationship grows to be more domestic and emotionally charged. meanwhile, peter is still in love with his ex, sylvia. they don't want him to choose. eventually, they arrive at an understanding. a poly situation thatleaves peter with residing guilt.

after i finished the book, three interactions stuck with me

peter and sylvias arguement: still best friends after their breakup, they have grown to find comfort with each other. when peter tries to make a move, they get into a fight where sylvia opens up about the changes in her life following her accident. it left her with chronic pain. they talk about how sex is not a part of her life anymore and they cannot regress to the way things were. sylvias vulnerability and peters longing lead to the crux of their current relationship, i just want you to remember me the way i was.

his life in danger of becoming tolerable for a minute, why not go out of his way to aggrieve and distress the only person who could put up with him

sylvia and ivans conversation about the hat problem: the puzzle made me think and question language and truth. there isn't much to say except that even if youre not going to read the entire book, find a copy and read this excerpt.

language doesn't fit into reality like a toy fitting into a slot. reality is actually one thing and language something else

peter and ivans fight: most sibling dynamics are chaotic and disturbed. peter and ivan showcase this when they start talking about their dad and how their relationship has evolved since they were children. ivan, who once used to idolize peter, is now resentful and feels overshadowed. peter, the elder sibling who always had to shoulder the burden of parenting everyone in his family without appreciation, is burnt out. their conversation leads to a physical altercation, common sibling behavior.

i related to peter so much because

when things get difficult, you're gone. you're out of the room. and that's alright, i don't expect anything else. maybe with dad i did, but i learnt my lesson. he didn't want me to be his son, he wanted me to be his protector. and yours. so that's what i was. all my life, i was looking out for the both of you. and neither of you ever even had the decency to say thanks

there are more nuanced and complicated themes that occur throughout the plot. grief, resent, remorse, self doubt, suicidal thoughts, alcoholism, re-sheltering a dog, polygamy, absent parents.

i would love to illustrate more on this, however i just wanted to talk about peter and his struggle with existing on a day to day basis. unable to make decisions that don't harm the people around him. wanting to be a part of the family but not knowing how to without making a mess or feeling like more is owed. wanting someone to appreciate the efforts you put in. dealing with failure and grief. wanting to be a better person. wanting to make the right choice. wanting to feel safe and loved. wanting. and failing.

this is not a book review btw, just me telling u my favorite quotes and thoughts

[k-marzolf]

Atom to Atom.

*awkward!Reader, nerdy jokes, alcohol consumption, fluff & angst, mentions of Billy’s abandonment, touch starved!Reader, fem!reader*

Tags; @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

Summary: You attempt to pick Billy up at a bar.

&&&&&

You were out of place in New York and at a bar of all places. That’s where you met him. You remember being dazzled by his smile and beautiful dark eyes.

You were just a brilliant farm girl in the big city.

You’d marched straight over to him, trying to look confident like the ladies that were eyeing him. He looked over, “Hey, pretty girl.”

“Do you know why you can’t trust Atoms?” You asked, biting your lip.

God, you were such a dork. He was gonna be turned off.

He’d raised an eyebrow, “No.”

“They make up everything.” You’d snorted, trying to contain your laughter, but it spilled over.

His dark chuckle was like velvet sliding down your spine; “You’re so cute,” he said, smiling. “Billy.”

You gave him your name, mesmerized by him. “Did my pick up line work?” You asked, hopefully.

He laughed richly; “Oh, I’m smitten.” He teased you.

You grinned, maybe this flirting thing wasn’t as hard as you thought. “Can I take you home?”

Billy stood up, grabbing his jacket, “Sure, sweetness.”

Your smile lit up your entire face.

x

Your apartment was warm, filled with plants and books, and little knick knacks. “What kind of tea do you like, Billy?” You asked, rummaging around in your cupboard.

“Surprise me, sweetness.” He said, eyeing the daisies on your table, before turning back to the bookshelf. You had Edgar Allan Poe, Jane Austen, Tolkien, Kafka, and then…a children’s book, Peter Rabbit.

It only sweetened Billy’s view of you. He straightened up as you approached him, your cheeks warm, giving him his tea. “Chamomile tea.” You said, looking where his gaze was, as he took the teacup.

At your collection of Children’s books.

“Never got to be a girl, always alone on my grandfather’s farm, milking cows and chasing chickens,” you said softly, “so when I moved here I bought all the children’s books I could. I know it’s silly.” You mumbled, sitting down.

Billy hummed, “I get it. I had to grow up fast too in the group home. My mom safe havened me in Albany at a fire station.” He said, circling the rim of the teacup with his fingers, surprised to have divulged something so personal to a stranger.

But you made him feel safe with your disarming and gentle personality. Not many people made Billy feel comfortable right away.

“We could read them together, if you wanted.” You offered, sipping your tea, showing him no pity, he was relieved.

Billy smiled, feeling warmth flood his insides. “I’d like that.” He said, voice deep, warm.

You looked like a child at Christmas. “Really?” You asked excitedly.

“Really.” He said, sipping his own tea. Billy was never one for tea, but this was good.

“I don’t know anyone here, except those I work with at the bookstore.” You said in a rush, knee bouncing, “I’m always alone otherwise, but sometimes it’s nice to be alone with someone.”

Billy hummed, reaching forward touching your knee, “We can be alone together.” He kissed your forehead, beard tickling your skin.

You finished your tea, cheeks hot. You’d never had anyone show you affection, but it made you giddy. It felt good to have made a new friend.

[toribookworm22]

Watch Thoughts ❄️❄️❄️

Why is Narnia so devestating????

It's Peter yelling at Edmund and their mom calling Peter a good man and them all being so tiny.

And it's the long opening and the titles only once they're on the train with the wistful song playing.

In Voyage of the Dawn Treader when Lucy was sold off, did she remember when she was tagged and boarded like cattle onto the train?

It's everyone looking at Susan for reassurance.

It's all the others trying not to laugh and Susan setting her shoulders even as she does as she's told.

It's Peter and Susan trying to act like what is probably the image of their parents when they're comforting Lucy.

It's the jazzy swing music starting as Peter starts counting, giving into the kid game and trying to get the others to do the same.

It's their frantic running to hide.

It's the music echoing away as Lucy finds the room.

It's the dramatic drop of the sheet.

It's the slow push through the wardrobe.

It's Lucy taking in the beauty of the snowy forest.

Narnia really is a pinnacle of effects.

I've always thought the lamppost was a simply brilliant device used in Narnia.

I always forget that Lucy really does represent hope for all of Narnia. Winter's not all bad when you know spring is coming.

You know sometimes I wonder why I didn't get that into The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings sooner given that I love fantasy. But then I remember. I had Narnia.

This actress, man. She's incredible.

The fact that it's Susan and Edmund checking the wardrobe, but Peter telling Lucy it's her imagination.

Peter who grew up far too fast yet still wants to be a kid, but instead pushes everyone else to grow up with him because he's protecting them that way.

I've always had such a soft spot for Edmund. He's barely older than Lucy and just such a little boy. He's a joker and and annoying brother and he's attention deprived and the way that his siblings treat him is why the plot moves the way it does.

It's his change in tone once he's in the wardrobe. Lucy? Where are you? I think I believe you now.

The White Witch and her dwarf used to appear in my nightmares. They're absolutely terrifying.

BUT HER COSTUMING.

LIKE WHO DO I HAVE TO THANK FOR HER HAIR AND CROWN AND COAT AND DRESS???

I can make anything you like. Can you make me taller?

Oh. Do you mean... Peter would be king, too?

The White Witch is already so manipulative with her "hills" and "house".

Lucy: Winter isn't so bad. Edmund: It's freezing.

You know what little children are like these days. Just don't know when to stop pretending.

It's Lucy looking up at the professor and seeing an adult and immediately burying her face into him.

The weeping girl. Yes, sir. She's upset. Hence the weeping.

You're not saying you believe her? You don't? You're saying that we should just believe her?

Oh and the kids all band together to avoid getting in trouble for breaking the window. As kids do.

Them all arguing as they back up in the wardrobe will always be one of the funniest things ever.

Don't worry. I'm sure it's just your imagination. Little Lucy with her sass.

It's the way Peter literally knows how to poke at all of them and doesn't hold back except with Lucy.

It's the way Lucy knows exactly what's happened the moment she sees the door kicked in. Her eyes widen because she knows what a bombed house looks like.

Anyone else forget the White Witch's name was Jadis?

The way the girls both grab onto Peter, but Peter grabs onto Susan.

Susan immediately warms up the moment we meet Mrs. Beaver. She recognizes warmth and love.

It's all happening because of you. You're blaming us?Not blaming. Thanking.

Peter is so easily swayed. He's such a mediator and he's trying so hard to make everyone happy, but it really just makes him fickle.

The first of my loveable foxes.

It's Susan running full-force and Peter dragging Lucy behind him.

The river scene is still so good.

I will forever be disappointed in animals not designed as well as Aslan.

Susan and Edmund are so important to me as a pair of the Pevensie children.

It's very important that the girls are not soft. They are girls from wartime and always armed and, yes, they are gentle, but they are not soft. They are Aslan's protectors of heart.

Okay, but the Witch's outfit during Aslan's binding is killer.

The way Jadis studies Aslan in this scene, too. I want to study it. Her expressions are so layered.

Susan looks away, but Lucy doesn't.

They cut from Aslan's eyes to Lucy's.

The girls free Aslan's body. Susan reasons it's too late, but Lucy tries anyway. It's not about that.

He must've known what he was doing.

Susan, the woman you are.

Do you think Susan thought of Aslan as she identified the bodies? Do you think she tried to free them too?

Edmund: then you'll have to lead us. That's such as important turn for him. AND SO DO I.

Okay, but that shot through the map that turns into the field from the eagle's eyes?! Damn.

It's important that Peter both protects Edmund by setting him further back, but also trusts him enough to lead and fight.

Oh my gosh I forgot she wore his mane!

Peter always looks to his siblings when he makes a decision.

Narnia is so intense with its battle sequences. They are violent and brutal in a way I haven't seen much of in other kid's media.

Even though I hesitate to like that they specifically split the girls off from the boys so that they didn't fight, it still works.

Narnia editors. Wherever you are. Thank you.

Edmund sees Peter hurt and the whole of the army reacts. Peter asks them to stop. But they do not listen. Not to that king at least.

Lucy's grief is important. Just as much as her hope.

Peter the boy who wanted to fight in the war at home sees war up close and stumbles.

Yet his stubborn ass still fights. Even if he demands Edmund to get the girls home.

Peter's not king yet. Peter's not king yet and I listen to no one. I will let the witch take nothing else.

Oh the silent scream.

Oh Peter thinking to himself why can't you do as you're told even as he runs after him again.

Peter isn't a fighter. And he looks so painfully young fighting the witch who is.

Whoever designed the rock terrain, man.

The motion blur shot is so incredible. It's just Peter and Aslan. It is finished.

Susan: where's Edmund. Susan shooting the dwarf who tortured Edmund. Susan removing his helm. They mean the world to me.

Aslan heals and Lucy runs to do the same.

How they each look at their thrones means so much to me actually. Lucy the Valiant Edmund the Just Susan the Gentle Peter the Magnificent

It is important that Tumnus gives them the crowns because Narnia is really about change.

Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia.

After all. He's not a tame lion.

I think Lucy's grief is what makes her valiant.

Wait, what so you mean the only time Susan got to see her siblings grow up was as kings and queens in Narnia?

They actually cast them older really well.

This feels familiar. Like from a dream. Or a dream of a dream.

The transition from fall leaves to coats is brutal actually. And then they're back to bickering.

The only time in which movies are more devestating than books. The Penvensie children remember.

Oh my gosh I forgot how much Lucy going back to the wardrobe made me sad.

And the music is so good.

But oh how I've missed the Disney logo that changed colors with the movie title color.

[annabtg]

Maybe my standard for bullying is high because I’ve been bullied to a point where my bones were broken had to eat lunch in the restroom to avoid it being thrown out or spit on. I don’t find Snape a victim I think him and his friends got as good as they gave. We didn’t see any of the marauders pov about what happened with Snape, what we did see is Sirius and Remus regret what they did, but Snape never regretted any of it which has tricked people into believing he was a victim and not the perpetrator. What Snape could have done is become a good person and help others who were being bullied, but instead he chose to bully children and make them loath going to his class. If there’s anyone who grew up and learned from their mistakes it was the marauders minus Peter. As a victim of bullying I put everything into studying and I’m way more successful in my career compared to my bullies, and I volunteer to help kids who are going through similar situations. A couple of years ago one of the kids who I was helping turned out to be one of my bullies child, and I didn’t say anything or throw it in their face because I could see the regret in their eyes when they looked at their child. Snape could have done better, but he chose not to because he was a entitled narcissist who needed to grow the fuck up.

(I tried to reply to this last night but was too sleepy.)

Anon!! First of all, I'm so sorry about your experience with bullying 😔 this sounds extremely serious and I hate that you had to go through it!!

I don't disagree with you at all re: Snape. People like to say that "the Marauders started it", but the way I read their first meeting, I think Snape is the one who first starts to escalate. You see how James starts out with the Slytherin comments, and Sirius pipes up, but without taking it personally - they have a good-natured back and forth. It's Snape whose comment carries true malice when Gryffindor is mentioned - "if you'd rather be brawny than brainy". James is an entitled little shit who uses jeering and teasing as conversation starters, but unlike Sirius, who is comfortable with this being a - legit? Definitely common - communication style between boys, Snape is used to the slightest provocation leading to malicious responses and violence, because that's what he's seen in his home. The difference is that James and Sirius are not going to take that lying down.

I think Snape would have become a power-hungry, violent-prone Death Eater regardless of the Marauders' presence or behaviour towards him. His character had developed like that from early on, as we see from his behaviour towards Petunia. If James and Sirius had not engaged him, nothing would have changed in his story - he was aware of his classmates' behaviour towards people like Mary and thought it was "just a laugh". And we know that he didn't use the other Slytherins as his defence against the Marauders, because it's never shown or mentioned by anyone - so he wasn't being a Peter and trying to cater to them. He was his own person and chose to align with them.

Snape lived in domestic abuse and picked up the ways of the abuser, and while he regretted his role in Lily's death, he never learned anything about his behaviour apart from don't be a Death Eater. Which is why his mean and violent behaviour carries over to his teaching - except, of course, he's in a position of power over his students, unlike with the Marauders who were his equals and gave him ground to escalate.

If we view it through a more "modern" lens, Snape needed therapy. But he wasn't going to get it in Wizarding Britain, so he had to make do with what he had, and he didn't have the mental faculties to get over himself. It's "not his fault", but it's also not the Marauders' fault.

Slight tangent but as I was writing this, it came to me that Harry's reaction towards Snape's book parallels Lily's towards Snape. At first - such a smart and talented boy, I like him! Then - he's a little mischievous, but it's all in good fun. And eventually - actually he's mean and has a really dark streak and I want nothing to do with that.

[greatwyrmgold]

Another "The Problem of Susan" post

As you may know:

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was not a standalone book. There were seven books in the series, each with more Christian allegory than the last.

(Or maybe it's not allegory? Apparently C.S. Lewis has said that Aslan is literally Jesus, so maybe it's all literally just Christianity.)

The series stars the four Pevensie siblings who show up in most of the books—Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. They're absent from The Silver Chair and The Magician's Nephew, but all appear together in the other five books, with one exception.

The last book, called The Last Battle, features Peter, Edmund, and Lucy, but not Susan. Not only does Susan not appear, she's mentioned exactly once:

"Sir," said Tirian, when he had greeted all these. "If I have read the chronicles aright, there should be another. Has not your Majesty two sisters? Where is Queen Susan?" "My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia." "Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'" "Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up." "Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can." "Well, don't let's talk about that now," said Peter. "Look! Here are lovely fruit trees. Let us taste them."

(Oh yeah, the kids were kinds and queens of Narnia for a few decades when they were kids. Don't think about it too much.)

The Problem of Susan gets even worse because right at the end of the book, Aslan reveals that the Pevensies, their parents, and other Earth-humans who went to Narnia (like the Eustace and Polly mentioned above) died right before coming to Narnia this last time. And now that the Book of Revelations is done, they will live forever in "the true Narnia," which is either an allegory for Revelation's New Jerusalem or literally heaven, I'm not sure which.

Susan is still not there.

So, the first part of the Problem of Susan is that a formerly major character—one that many young fans of the series felt attached to—who gets all but dropped from the finale. This is particularly egregious, since—this is a direct quote— "Everyone you had ever heard of (if you knew the history of those countries) seemed to be there" by the end. Every character from the entire series, from Mr. Tumnus the faun to that cab driver who became the first King of Narnia, it makes sense in context.

But not Susan.

And I guess that makes sense in context, too; she's not dead. But C.S. Lewis wrote the context. It was C.S. Lewis's decision to kill off the other Pevensies, and C.S. Lewis's decision to keep Susan out of this last adventure.

Christian Apologetics, for Kids!

I've seen three common responses to The Problem of Susan from overly-protective fans of the series.

The first is, perhaps unsurprisingly, just a remix of shit fundamentalist Christians say about Heaven and Hell. Just as agnostics will burn in the fires of hell for their ambiguous faith, so Susan will be barred from "the true Narnia" for being less allegorically(?) pious than her siblings.

Speaking as an ex-Christian, I could write a whole series of posts about why that's fucked-up and wrong. But I will instead remain on topic and recommend you read basically any atheist blog from the early '10s; that eternal damnation/salvation shit is low-hanging fruit for guys who want to make fun of fundies.

Second, you have people who see Susan as materialistic, caring so much about "nylons and lipstick and invitations." First off, nothing in the text suggests she was maliciously materialistic, or greedy, or anything else that would merit getting kicked out of Narnia. Second, the text just...does not support this reading. Susan's sin isn't greed, it's growing up too fast.

Third are the people who agree with the text; Susan "always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up." This has textual support, and not just from the one page in The Last Battle that mentions her. The problem is, of course, that this isn't a sin worthy of punishment either.

(Zeroth: Susan spent decades as a queen of Narnia, but since because the books want us to think that that wouldn't have any real impact on the kids, we will continue not thinking about it too much.)

With that out of the way: Wanting to be older than you are is fine, wanting to be younger than you are is fine, wanting to be the age you are is great. There is nothing inherently wrong with either wanting to be treated as a grown-up or seeking the joy of youth. It can lead to bad behavior, but none of that is described in the actual text of The Last Battle.

Susan is described as misremembering the fantastical adventures the Pevensies had as children, and wanting to be a young adult for as long as possible. Who. Cares.

It seems like C.S. Lewis puts an unreasonably high premium on the innocence of childhood. (This has what I consider to be unfortunate implications when combined with his advocacy of blind faith in The Silver Chair, but that's a topic for another ramble.) This is, I feel, ridiculous. It's fine to seek the joy of youth, but to treat losing that joy as some kind of mortal sin is absurd! Treating the loss of innocence as an inevitable tragedy is one thing; treating it as something worth punishing a kid for if they stumble into it too quickly is horrific.

(And it's really hard to not think about that time Susan was a literal monarch. Well, there were four of them, so I guess she was more of a tetrarch? Whatever.)

Anyways. The fourth response is to point to things C.S. Lewis said after publishing The Last Battle. And I'm going to discuss that.

Contrite-over-Susan Lewis

Unfortunately, I can't find the actual quotes by C.S. Lewis, not in the time I'm willing to spend researching a Tumblr post about a book that was old when my parents were young. But C.S. Lewis has acknowledged the problem of Susan.

The gist of what he said is that he's not happy that Susan's story is incomplete, but writing her redemption arc would put the story into a whole different genre, and that's no good.

My first problem is, of course, the idea that Susan needed to change to be worthy of Narnia. So what if she was always the most skeptical Pevensie? So what if she wanted to grow up? So what if she likes nylons and lipstick and invitations? If the Susan we see in the other books isn't worthy of the true Narnia, that's Lewis's problem, not Susan's.

The second is that C.S. Lewis never wrote that book. Lewis would say that it's out of step with the rest of the series, that the tone would be off, but so is The Last Battle to anyone not drowning in Armageddon-lust. And it's not like character arcs are foreign to the series, either. There are plenty of examples of kids from our Earth going to Narnia and having it change their worldview or attitude. They're mostly small subplots, but elevating a Susan character arc to a booklong undercurrent would not be that much of a divergence.

And even if Lewis committed himself to only writing seven books for numerological reasons—well, first off, he probably could have cut one of the other books. A Horse and his Boy is neat, but depicting the lives of ordinary Narnians during a dramatic time probably should have taken a back seat to a character arc you think is required for her to join the finale. Anyways, he could have written the Susan character arc as a subplot in Prince Caspian or Voyage of the Dawn Treader if he tried.

But he didn't try.

Conclusion

C.S. Lewis supposedly said that Susan was his favorite character, the one he saw the most of himself in. If true, that is not reflected in The Last Battle.

Lewis set some arbitrary conditions Susan would have to meet to join her siblings at the end—at the climax of the entire series, arguably the most important event in Narnian history since the world's creation. He then chose not to write anything that would let Susan meet those conditions, left her out of the last book, and left it ambiguous as to whether she'd ever see her siblings in paradise.

I don't think this would be quite so egregious if Susan was at least mentioned more. Again, Susan is never mentioned before Tirian asks where she is, nor after Peter decides to taste some fruit. She gets three and a half paragraphs where her brother and "friends" bitch about her, and that's that. They make fun of her for growing up and liking nylons and lipstick, then they decide to eat fruit, end of chapter, end of Susan.

It's like the characters don't give a shit about Susan. They're not angry, they're not disappointed, they're not confused. They state a few things about Susan when directly asked, then move on, like these are just facts about some fictional character and not the reasons they're estranged from a sibling or longtime friend. Heck, the younger Pevensies don't even bother to speak up! They don't care!

And if the characters don't care about the formerly important character—important both to the story and, more importantly, to them—why should I think the author did?

[del-stars]

"i could write an entire essay on how sirius internalises his failure to be a 'good heir' into thinking something is inherently wrong with him" - you cant say that and not give it to me !! give it to me. now. (please)

essay time essay time essay time !!!!!!!

okay, so. this is not a New Idea but i do feel like pureblood society/beliefs align very closely with religion, specifically catholicism (which is my personal frame of reference). not in the hierarchical way necessarily, but in the 'you're born into this and thus have to believe in it' sort of way (also the familial shaming and cutting off 'wayward' children who challenged the belief system).

there is such a deep sense of shame in leaving religion. even when you know it's the right thing to do, even when you're not sorry, even when you have no desire to go back to it. sirius, in the same way, feels like a failure. he couldn't be what he was supposed to be. it doesn't matter that he didn't want to - he couldn't. and your first instinct (generalizing here) when you find yourself unable to align with a belief system (for instance, growing up queer in a church that doesn't accept that) isn't to blame the system itself, but to blame yourself. there's something wrong with you, and that's why you're uncomfortable in the system, that's why you find yourself questioning, that's why you can't fit in like everyone else can: because you were born wrong.

sirius thinks he was born wrong. he thinks there is something wrong with him. he doesn't agree with blood purity and pretty much never has, he sticks out from his family, and he's a gryffindor - those things are wrong. he isn't supposed to be that way. he is missing out on what he has long been told is everything he could ever want: being the heir, controlling the family, having the money and influence and power - and (in his mind) he is choosing not to have it. he could let it all go and go back, except he can't, because it isn't really a choice. it's the way he is.

he is obviously a guilt-ridden, not at all well-adjusted teenager with a backpack full of trauma, so he doesn't respond the best to certain situations, and this reinforces this belief. the prank, his deep hatred for snape, his constantly getting in trouble, his general lack of emotional intelligence and control, the fact that his parents didn't love him or even seem to like him: all because he is inferior. he is worse than everyone else. this then pervades pretty much every aspect of his life: he thinks the potters don't want him around, he thinks his friends secretly hate him, he thinks mcgonagall believes he'll end up going nowhere in life. his response to this is to bury it under so much bravado that nobody could even think he actually feels this way, but that's another essay.

this is all worsened by being raised in an abusive household. walburga used to be obsessed with sirius, and then (because of her own instability) started abusing him. sirius blames himself for this - there must have been something he's done. except he can't think of anything, and so it must be something within him. there is something wrong with him that means his mother cannot love him, and if his own mother is incapable of loving him, then who ever could?

i think all this explains why in canon he didn't escape azkaban sooner, because he fully blamed himself for james and lily's deaths. sure, one could argue that he is a little bit, but the burden of that guilt should rest on peter. sirius assumes it fully, though, because he thinks everything he touches is destined to be destroyed.

[thechaseaphrodite]

Peter Pan offers a complex perspective on childhood, presenting it as a time of innocence, purity, and joy, while also exploring the inherent heartlessness of children.

In the book, Peter and the Darling children’s journey to Neverland takes months, surviving only on scraps of bread stolen from birds. They often fall asleep mid-flight, and Peter only intervenes at the last moment, finding amusement in the danger. The book notes, "it was his cleverness that interested him and not the saving of human life."

Peter Pan's interactions with the Lost Boys reveal a darker side. Although he is the smallest among them, they revere him, driven by fear. Peter imposes strict rules: they can't dress like him, know more than he does, or complain about the pretend meals.

Despite his violent tendencies, Peter Pan isn’t portrayed as a villain. Instead, he embodies the nature of a young child who, unfettered by adult constraints, exercises control over his peers much like a domineering five-year-old in a playground. His forgetfulness of past adventures reflects a child living entirely in the moment, and the violence in Neverland mirrors the unfiltered nature of children’s play in the real world.

Barrie suggests that children's heartlessness stems from their innocence. Without enough life experience, they cannot fully comprehend others' feelings, remaining too innocent to develop empathy.

Peter Pan, like any other child, lacks the developed sense of empathy that comes with experience and teaching. His magical nature blurs the lines between make-believe and reality, making him unique yet still reflective of a typical child’s inability to fully grasp the impact of their actions.

There is a distinct aloofness toward unconditional love, something Peter and the Lost Boys don't fully understand. Despite their months-long absence from home, Wendy is the only one who ever considers the feelings of their parents. Barrie reflects on this with the line, "thus children are ever ready, when novelty knocks, to desert their dearest ones. Off we skip like the most heartless things in the world, which is what children are, but so attractive; and we have an entirely selfish time, and then, when we have need of special attention, we nobly return for it, confident that we shall be embraced instead of smacked."

It’s only when the children learn what happened to Peter — being barred from returning home — that they begin to take the situation seriously.

Barrie ensures we remember the children's selfishness, calling them "rubbishy children" and "brats." He even declares Mrs. Darling his favorite character, and remarks that it would serve the children right if their parents were away when they returned. That such moral lesson is something they have needed all along.

Despite this, the children are welcomed home with open arms, just as they anticipated. They face no consequences for their heartless behavior, shielded by the patient, unconditional love of their parents. Even the Lost Boys are welcomed into the Darling family.

In the end, none of the children express regret for their selfish actions, except, perhaps, Peter.

Peter originally plans to prevent Wendy from leaving by closing and barring her window, making it appear as though her mother no longer wanted her — mirroring his own experience as a child. However, when he arrives at the window, he sees Mrs. Darling sitting in the nursery, quietly crying. Initially, Peter feels anger, wanting Wendy for himself, unable to share her love. Like a child who lashes out, Peter recognizes the discomfort caused by someone else's distress.

Yet, his anger fades, and in possibly the only truly selfless act of his life, Peter abandons his plan, allowing Wendy to return home.

In a quiet moment, after the Lost Boys are adopted, Mrs. Darling offers to adopt Peter as well. But he refuses; he doesn’t want to grow up.

As Peter leaves, he gazes back at the Darling family, united in their love for one another. Barrie writes, "he had ecstasies innumerable that other children can never know... but he was looking through the window at the one joy from which he must be forever barred." Peter may never age, but growing up is not about aging; it’s about developing empathy and emotional depth — growing a heart. By the story’s end, Peter, the boy who refuses to grow up, perhaps becomes the only character who truly does.

In a very interesting way, Galinda's journey is similar to Peter Pan’s in a few compelling ways. Both characters start with a lack of empathy, operating in a self-centered world where their desires and comforts reign supreme.

Galinda begins her story with a strong sense of entitlement. She doesn't want to share her room at Shiz and begrudgingly offers Elphaba the smallest possible space. Her attitude towards Elphaba is dismissive and condescending, seeing her as an inconvenience rather than a person deserving respect.

Furthermore, Galinda expects Elphaba to do her a favor — putting in a good word with Madame Morrible — without offering anything in return. When Elphaba refuses, having no reason to oblige, Galinda's reaction is to escalate her cruelty. This behavior is reminiscent of Peter Pan's heartlessness when he only cares about his amusement, not the well-being of those around him. Both Galinda and Peter exhibit a form of childishness, unable to process rejection in a mature way, and respond with spite when their desires are thwarted.

Galinda’s loathing for Elphaba it’s a childish kind of loathing — akin to a toddler throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get their way. Elphaba’s green skin makes it easier for Galinda to direct her disdain, but fundamentally, her reaction is rooted in immaturity.

The turning point for Galinda comes at the Ozdust Ballroom. A moment that parallels Peter Pan's realization when he sees Mrs. Darling crying in the nursery. Elphaba's unexpected kindness sparks something within Galinda.

This realization is Galinda's "heart-growing" moment, similar to Peter Pan’s fleeting moment of selflessness when he decides not to shut the window on Wendy. Galinda starts to see beyond her own desires and considers the feelings and dignity of others, marking the beginning of her emotional growth. She transitions from a self-absorbed young woman to someone capable of empathy and genuine connection.

Both characters, through their arcs, illustrate the journey from selfish innocence to a more complex understanding of others. Peter Pan and Galinda both begin their stories insulated by their own immaturity and desires. Still, through pivotal moments of realization, they start to grow a heart — Peter, in his decision to let Wendy return home, and Galinda, in her developing empathy for Elphaba.

[rubydubydoo122]

In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)

TRIGGER WARNING -> Child Death (it's Jason)

A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone.

Seven children were gone. And another one was about to die. And another one and another one, with every new reality they went to, because that was the pattern. 

It wasn’t just Jason dying. It was Jason dying as a kid, unable to grow old. None of his counterparts would grow old.

None of them spoke. It was like they were frozen in time. Except he knew they weren’t frozen because his knees were trembling and he had to clench his fists to keep them steady. Before he could tell what he was doing, Jason was moving. 

He could tell who was comforting who. If he was clinging to Dick to keep himself from floating away or if Dick’s vice-like hug was to make sure he wouldn’t turn into smoke right in his arms.

Finally, it was Bruce who broke the silence, “We should find somewhere to rest. Maybe sit this universe out.”

And honestly, Dick and Jason were too worn out to realize it wasn’t a very Batman thing to say. In fact, it felt a lot like the Bruce they both knew in their childhood. The man that didn’t have Batman bleeding into the person he truly was– Bruce.

Though now that they were relatively back to their senses, he took his time to look around. The magic was strong in this universe. Specifically soul magic.

The sould didn’t feel like they were on a separate plane, like how he learned with Ducra. It felt like each and every soul had the ability to pass through the veil and take on a form in the physical world. Like if everyone had the ability to summon their own version of the All Blades.

They were in some sort of museum. Except, It didn’t feature dinosaurs or WWII artifacts. No. It seemed to feature winged skeletons, but attached to humans. Except they weren’t really attached. As far as Jason could tell, the anatomy didn’t really line up for the back of the ribs to connect with the wings. Though Jason could feel the connection between the wings and the skeleton that ran soul deep.

Bruce smoothed out Jason’s hair,  “Come on, lets go.”

As soon as they got outside, they realized what was different about this universe. There were people with wings. From the shape of a falcon to a songbird, from the wing of a dove to a vulture. He could tell that each and every set of wings was a reflection of that person’s soul. It was their soul.

He thought about Bruce. Maybe his wings would be some sort of Eagle. Strong, sharp, intelligent. Though, those are more qualities of a person, not a soul. And an Eagle didn’t really seem to fit Bruce. You can’t really describe a soul with words. It’s just an energy, a vibe. 

What would Dick’s look like? Dick, a man who was born to fly. Him having Robin wings felt a little too on the nose. He had to have giant wings that drew eyes and signaled comfort. Jason couldn’t really think of a specific wing that would portray that. Unless his wings were unique, and unlike anything anyone has seen.

He wondered what his wings would look like. Would his soul, a soul strong enough to wield the All-Blades, have giant wings that were majestic? Or was he too broken? Would his wings only manifest as a few measly feathers. 

They got to a motel, and the receptionist noticed them immediately, “Oh! Mr. Wayne! I didn’t expect anyone of your status to ever stay somewhere here.”

Bruce gave her one of his signature Brucie Wayne smiles, “It was the closest place.”

She looked from Dick to Jason and gave him a soft smile back, “Rough night out?”

“You could say that.”

She handed them a key, “The room’s on the house. After all you and your sons do for the city, it’s the least we could do.”

Bruce looked a little confused, “Are you sure? I have enough money–”

“Yes, yes, please. I insist. You and your family are the Guardian Angels of Gotham. My boss would throw a fit if he realized I made you pay. Now go! Rest! It’s the least you could do.”

“Oh.” Bruce took the key, “Thank you.”

As soon as they got to the room, Dick face planted onto the colossal bed (For the wings? But sleeping with those seemed like work). Then he rolled over and started pushing all the sheets to the middle. Like he used to do when Jason was visiting the Titans. 

Dick was the type of person who didn’t sleep with any blankets, whereas Jason bundled himself like a burrito. Jason could sleep without them– his time on the streets and in the league made that a necessity– but when given the choice, he’d take the protection and safety blankets provided. 

Of course he knew he could trust Dick to catch him when he fell, or to protect his back, but it took a while for Jason to trust Dick like that . He remembers, way back in the beginning, he used to sleep on the giant couch in Titan’s tower, which slowly turned into sleeping on the ground in Dick’s room. Then to the opposite end of the bed with a pillow wall separating them. 

There was that time, it was a couple nights before Dick left for space. Jason had went to Titan’s Tower after Gloria Stanson died and the whole situation with Fellipe Garzonas. And Dick, he just held him in his arms. Leaning his cheek on top of Jason’s curls. Not saying anything, and just holding him. He didn’t ask any questions. He just gave him comfort.

It was hard for Jason to trust people like that. Trust people enough to be vulnerable around them. Though once Jason trusted someone, nothing they did could break that trust. Sure, they could disappoint him, like Bruce and Sheila, or even in some ways Talia, but he still trusted them with his whole being. Even if he knew Dick didn’t trust him. He probably didn’t see Jason as anything more than a… coworker, or a person who took the face of a kid he maybe used to care about, Jason trusted Dick more than anyone else in the world. He was his big brother. 

Jason rolled himself up in the blankets and scooted until his forehead was slightly touching Dick’s shoulder. Dick immediately melted relaxed That couldn’t be right. Maybe he was just really tired.

Soon he could hear Dick’s breathing even out and knew he was asleep.

He thought about how Jay from the Alley, and Baby Jay would never get that big brother. How the Robin Jays barely got close enough to really know Dick as a brother before they died. Even he didn’t really have the rights to call Dick his brother. Not as much as Tim or Damian, or even Duke. Quality over quantity, and by the time Jason truly opened up he died. They all died.

Jason knew there were infinite realities. He knew there were many realities where he lived, but there had to be equally as many where he died. Maybe even more.

Maybe by coming back to life, he caused one of these many Jasons to die. Maybe that’s why they were on this multiversal adventure. The transporter device is trying to find a reality where his soul fits. Maybe it doesn’t fit anywhere anymore.  

“Can’t sleep?”

He shrugged. Jason knew Bruce would notice he wasn’t really asleep. He was Bruce, he couldn’t not notice. He was somehow simultaneously the most observant and the most obtuse person he knew. 

They sat in the silence that always felt so loud between the two of them. Sometimes, Jason felt like they were the tides and the moon. He knew Bruce was always trying to reach out to him, but in the end, the gravity of Gotham will always be greater than Jason’s. 

He heard Bruce shift in his seat, “Do you… do you remember those nights we’d stayed up all night in the library reading poems?” 

Jason nodded. Of course he remembers. Most of the poems he’d been telling all the versions of himself had been from those nights. 

He also remembered the reason they were up all night. Most of the time it was because they had run into someone he used to work for. He could never sleep after being so starkly reminded of his past. And it was near impossible to build up the guts to get in a bed those nights. 

He remembers sitting in the papasan chair in the library feeling like a bird. He remembers Bruce sitting on the far end of the couch, because even then, he knew. Of course he knew. 

He remembers them going back and forth reading poems they thought the other would like. He remembers watching Bruce’s eyelid get heavier and heavier with each blink, but he still stayed up with him. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, the poetry books they’d been skimming through were left on the coffee table with green flags marking the poems Jason had liked and orange ones marking the ones Bruce did. Though the only ones Jason ended up memorizing were the pink ones, which both of them enjoyed.

“I never told you, but I used to do that with my mother. Not staying up late, but we used to sit in the Library after I had come home from school, and we’d– we did that too.” 

Jason didn’t really know what to say to that. ‘ Was anything we did original to us?’ or ‘ I special enough to you to the point where you let me share what you once had with your mother?’.

In the end Jason didn’t say anything, because Bruce continued, “Remember the poem ‘Still I Rise’ , by Maya Angelou?”

He nodded. It used to be his favorite. He remembered finding it the first poetry night he and Bruce spent together. Jason had read it first. And almost every poetry night they had they would come back to that one. They both had it memorized.

“It used to be my mother’s favorite too.” 

Jason could never forget the way Bruce read the poem to him. The way he seemed to not just read the poem, but express it. 

He always found it interesting that Bruce, a white man, could resonate with that poem. Though now that he thought of it, Bruce always read it like he was recalling a memory. So maybe Martha Wayne, a Jewish woman, helped him understand.

“Though, after the first time you read it out loud to me, I could only think of that poem being yours.” Bruce paused like he was debating saying something, and seemed to ultimately decide against it.

Jason didn’t know what to say. He had too much to say. Too many thoughts and feelings and actions that float around in his mind but never make it past the layers upon layers of thorns he uses to hurt people. The thornes he uses to protect himself. 

He wanted to tell Bruce to stop playing with his feelings, but he also wanted Bruce to hold him like he held the boy who was long dead. He wanted Bruce to stop using old memories like a carrot on a string just out of reach. He wanted to tell him of the nights he yearned for Bruce’s voice to lull him to sleep through the pattern of the stanzas. He wants to smack Bruce upside the head and tell him that he’s no longer the boy who died and that he’s still the same person. He wanted to scream that he was here and that he hates the person he’s become. Except he wasn’t sure if he hates Bruce or himself.

He couldn’t stand being in the same room as him. He missed him even though he was two feet away. He hated him because he loved him and that love would never be enough. He just wanted to call him Dad, and not worry about Batman taking that away.

In the end all Jason could say was, “‘s our poem.”

He heard Bruce shift, “Is…is it still our poem?”

Jason nodded, Now more than ever. There were nights, he remembered, during the league, during his early Red Hood days, even now, when the only way he can fall asleep is by reciting poems. Bruce’s voice almost lucid in his head. So when Bruce started speaking he had to remind himself that Bruce was really there. Reciting the poem for him.

“You may write me down in history; With your bitter, twisted lies; You may trod me in the very dirt; But still, like dust, I'll rise; Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells; Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns; With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise.

“Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard; ’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines; Diggin’ in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.

“Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise; That I dance like I've got diamonds; At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history’s shame; I rise; Up from a past that’s rooted in pain; I rise; I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear; I rise; Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear; I rise; Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave; I am the dream and the hope of the slave. 

“I rise. I rise. I rise.”

Jason didn’t remember falling asleep, but he certainly remembers waking up. Because it felt like his soul was being– he couldn’t even describe it. It just felt like his soul was in trouble, but not his soul. It was like it was being ripped out of Jason’s body–

The Jason of this Universe.

He sat up, and realized he was seeing double. Nope not double, there were two Bruces and two Dicks. And an ten/eleven year old Tim, and Stephanie. 

So the stalker probably stumbled across them, and their Jay must’ve gone missing, so they came to them for help. Except their Jay couldn’t be dead because Bruce Dick and Jason were still in this universe. 

Tim, tilted his head like a bird, “Is your arm glowing a normal thing for you?”

Jason looked down. His soul marks. Except Jason didn’t feel any evil entity near him . Was… was Jay being hunted by an Untitled?

Dick, the older one, replied “No.” At the same time Bruce replied with, “Yes.” 

Jason closed his eyes. He’s never been the best at astral projecting, but hopefully trying to track his own soul would make it easier.

The museum.

He made eye contact with Steph who looked bewildered, and spooked all at the same time. So she was probably their witness, 

He stood and headed towards the door, making a motion for everyone to follow, “What’s happenin’, Blonde?” 

“They- They took Jason and it’s all my fault.”

Jason snapped his head back because usually Steph was not one to be so open while being self loathing, “Oi, cut the guilt. Knowing myself, Jay probably chose to get taken rather than you. So tell me what’s goin’ on. And I want a story, no self loathing.”

Steph stepped into pace with Jason, and took a deep breath, “I was helping this kid, she needed help, but she wasn’t trusting me enough to help her. So…so I showed her my wings.” She said it like it was a bad thing. 

He guessed it could be, showing your soul to a stranger, but people flew around with their wings on full display, as far as Jason could tell, it was fine.

“Hm, I dunno if my Bruce has told you this yet, but we’re from a different Universe. One where only birds and bats have wings. I don’t really know the Socio-political climate here. What’s… why was it wrong to show this kid your wings?”

Tim ran up to Jason’s other side, “Wings are a physical manifestation of your soul. There are certain wing types that are super rare. And because they’re so rare,  they’re made to be… a spectacle. People who have mythical creature wings, like, Dick, are you ok with me using your parents as an example?”

Dick, the younger one, gave a wistful smile.

“Mr. Grayson had these huge dragon wings, and- and Mrs. Grayson’s wings were absolutely beautiful! They were Psyche’s wings. Do you guys have the myths of Dragons and Psyche in your world– Nope, I’m getting off topic. The more… I wouldn’t say pure or good, because you can’t really describe a soul with words, but usually your wings mirror your soul, and if you have more mythological wings, the more… magic your soul has. Though, if you’re not careful about who you show your wings to, you’ll probably get trafficked if you have pretty ones. That’s what Jason told me.”

Jason nodded. Then stopped in his tracks as the realization hit like a bus, and spun around, “The receptionist called you,” he pointed at Bruce, “And you,” he pointed to Dick, “the ‘ Guardian Angels of Gotham’ . Does that mean you’re really… ”

They nodded. “I have Powers Wings and Dick has Virtues.”

They were angels . He was literally standing in front of angels . 

Jason turned around and continued walking while whispering  “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. ” under his breath. He touched his forehead, his chest,  his left and right shoulders and then brought his hands together, “Amen.”

That also meant they didn’t have secret identities, but he was in the presence of angels.

Dick– not the angel one– cleared his throat. “So, you… also have angel wings, Steph?”

She nodded, lip wobbling, “But I didn’t notice there were other people in the alley, and like Tim said Jason said, when you have special wings you get taken and– and before I knew it, Jason was jumping down into the Alley, spreading his wings and telling me to run, and- and he got taken.”

Bruce, the literal angel, face looked conflicted between proud and worried, “He spread his wings? He doesn’t show them to anyone .”

Angel Dick made a pinched face, which meant Dick The Angel knew what wings Jay had. God, he was probably– he probably had songbird wings or something. If he had any other wings, he probably would have a mental breakdown.

They walked through the doors of the museum, as Tim tugged at Jason’s sleeve, “Why are your hands glowing?” 

The feeling of his soul being chiseled out chip by chip became almost overbearing. “Kinda… kinda like your wings, but I got swords instead.” He placed his hand to his heart, to keep it from bursting out of his chest, but it wasn’t working. “Timbo… do you also have Angel wings?”

He nodded, “I have Dominion wings. They’re not as cool as Jason’s though.”

Tim was a literal angel too. And… if these traffickers targeted people with special wings, he couldn’t let Tim and Steph wherever those traffickers were. He couldn’t let another Tim watch his brother die “Alright, I have a really important task for you and Steph.” Jason crouched down so he could be face to face with them. “Whenever I use my soul sword, it takes a lot of energy out of me, cus it’s ya know, a sword that comes from my soul. Do you guys have gatorade here? Specifically lime green.” they both nodded, “Do you also have Arizona Iced Tea, Space Rocks– not pop rocks, there’s a difference– Sour gummy worms, but they have to be the Candy Works Brand, and those strawberry hard candies that grandmas always have–”

“The ones with the gooey center?”

“Yes! Those! Along with the butterscotches they usually have on them too. I need you two to find all of those things. Then I need you to mix the drinks and the gummy worms together, but not the Space Rocks or the old lady candy. Then, I need you to put an old lady candy in your mouth and chant  ‘Acres of All, give All strength.’ Keep chanting until you’ve dissolved three candies each , ok? It has to be three strawberries, three butterscotches.” They nodded again, “And then, once you’re done with the old lady candies, you have to throw the pop rocks into the gummy worm drink, and say, ‘ soul replenisher’ until all the bubbles from the Space Rocks fizzle out. Make sure to take your time. If you rush it, my soul will become very weak.”

Steph and Tim nodded solemnly, “We won’t let you down, Giant Jason.” and they ran off to go find the ingredients.

Jason stood up and walked deeper into the museum, where his astral projection went, but all it led him to was the center of the museum. He could feel his own soul. He could feel the evil presence nearby. They were close enough to where he could summon the All Blades, but he kept them away. Not yet. There had to be a hidden door somewhere. 

He paused in the middle of the room. There were wings with feathers preserved in resin. 

Seraphim Wings. 

All three sets of wings were open wide, they weren’t curled in to veil the angel like they were supposed to. They were spread open. They looked wrong . Then he saw the plaque.

The wings of Thomas Wayne. The first Seraphim in centuries. Seraphim feathers hold special healing qualities that are even rumored to be able to heal fatal wounds. These feathers lose their healing ability after the Seraphim dies. 

Jason felt his blood run cold. This… this was worse than the case that held the suit he died in. This was a dead soul on display– no. This was a trapped soul. Never to be set free. Never to be at rest. 

Dick frowned, confusion slowly making way for horror, “But, Tim said that… your wings are your souls.”

Jason grabbed his Bruce by the elbow before he could fall to the ground.

“Bruce–” He wasn’t sure which Dick said it to which Bruce, but Angel Bruce cut him off.

“I had no say in it. I can never forgive Alfred for it, but this Gotham, this world , it isn’t just magic. It’s also cursed and corrupt. It was the only way he could keep me from living a life in a fighting pit or a cage.”

Angel Dick’s eyebrows scrunched up in worry, “ Br –”

“What about…” Bruce peeled his eyes away from the taxidermy of his father, “What about Mom?” 

Angel Bruce looked away.

Jason could hear his Bruce’s jaw click shut, “You’re a grown man now, capable of protecting yourself. Why won’t you–”

“Don’t you think I tried ?! They came after Dick! I’m��trying my best here! And I know my parents would rather have their grandkids safe than their memories honored. I have to pick and choose my battles. It’s not just about doing the right thing, it’s a war against evil . And my parents not being put to rest is a small loss compared to what’s necessary for my kids, and maybe even grandkids, to live in a safer Gotham.” Angel Bruce was looking at Bruce firmly. Eyes narrowed in that way that left no room for argument.

This Bruce was a Protector's Angel. This Bruce fought true evil. And Jason could feel all the Untitled-Like beings crawling around nearby. There was no hoping for redemption when it came to them. This Bruce killed, but it was nessasary. These evil beings would stop at nothing to get what they want.

Jason shifted and walked over to a patch where the stone floor looked off. He lodged his foot into an odd looking cobblestone, and suddenly the ground under him disappeared.

No stairs. Just free falling. Which was good for people with wings, but Jason didn’t really have those. 

He summoned one of his All Blades and stuck it into the wall to stop his fall. 

Angel Dick came diving down, before catching sight of Jason hanging and stopped. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Jason almost slipped off his sword, because, holy mother of Christ, Angel Dick had his Angel wings out.

Jason regained his grip, and positioned himself so he was sitting on the blade like a seat. 

There was the sound of grapples and suddenly Bruce and Dick were hanging next to him. Followed by Angel Bruce floating next to Angel Dick.

Bruce frowned at him, “Didn’t you say the Blades burned up your soul?”

“Only when I stab truly evil things.” He gestured downwards.

Angel Bruce’s expression darkened, “I’m going to head down, and do some recon, you four, wait for me to come back.” And he dove down.

Dick anchored his foot into his grapple, so he was no longer hanging by his arms, and gave a questioning glance to Jason, “Magical soul swords, huh?”

Jason, instead of answering to Dick’s passive aggressive question, shifted on his makeshift seat and rested his head in his hands. He felt like his intestines were entangling within themselves forming a tapestry that read the words, ‘Something was wrong. ’ Something was really really wrong. And he could feel how close Jay was. It was like if he reached his hand through the wall he would be able to grab his hand. Except, Jason couldn’t do that.

Angel Bruce came back up, “I couldn’t see Jason, but there are cages filled with children lining the perimeter of the substructure. There seems to be bidding going on. ART Dick and Bruce, you two sneak around and open the cages while Dick and I will guide them to safety, there are three more exits to the North, East, and West. We are currently in the South exit. Jason…just, try to find my son.”

Jason nodded. He just didn’t know if it’d be in time. With each second he felt like more and more of his soul was being plucked away until he was left raw and pink.

Bruce gave him a nod before grappling the rest of the way down. Dick squeezed Jason’s ankle and followed Bruce’s lead. 

Which left him with the Angels. 

Angel Bruce looked at Jason, “Thank you, for making sure Tim and Stephanie were safe. I know you don’t actually need the gatorade-tea-candy potion.” 

Jason looked at the knee of his pants. They had rust color stains. Blood. Of different Jasons. That were on him because he was too late to save himself. “I just didn’t want them seeing anything they shouldn’t”

Angel Dick floated closer to Jason and cupped his face, “I don’t know what you’ve been through these past couple days, or months, or maybe even years, but just know that you are the most resilient person I’ve ever known. And that I care about you so much.” 

Something about that tightened the knots in his stomach. “I’m not the kid you want to say that to.” 

Angel Dick smiled, and shook his head, “It’s something I know holds true throughout each and every Universe. You’re my little brother. And nothing can change that.”

And with that, the Angels dove down.

Jason shook his head. He’s not the Dick he wants to hear those words from. He knows those words will never come out of his brother’s mouth.

Well, he wasn’t getting any more info by astral projection. Time for the good old fashion way. 

If Jason Todd in this Universe was a son of Bruce Wayne, known to be the Guardian Angel of Gotham, he was probably being kept somewhere secure. Not with any of the rest of the kids who were being trafficked. He would also be up for a secret bid. One that only people with jets filled with money and power could participate in.

He scaled down the wall and lowered himself to the ground in a relatively bold way. Bold enough to catch eyes, but with enough menace to avoid weapons. Just like old times.

He scanned the crowd. A crowd reeking of Untitled energy– it wasn’t everyone, but a solid amount. 

Though there was one who stood out the most. 

Jason kept his hands in his pockets as he strode forwards. Hands in his pockets meant he had something to hide. Striding forwards with his chin slightly down, but his eyes fixed on one person, meant he had prey.

He loomed over the man. Close enough for him to feel Jason’s presence, but not to the point where they were touching. He spoke low, “Rumor has it you have some of the best Wings Gotham has to offer. Most of what I’m seeing here, I could find in Metropolis or New York.”

The monster of a man didn’t flinch, but he did shift and turn his head to Jason. Good. “What typa wings ya got?”

Jason smirked, in a way that didn’t reach his eyes and tilted his head while he stared through the man, “What makes you think I have any?”

“Whadarya, a cop? Everyone has wings, and I swear if–”

“What if, I told you mine were ripped away slowly. Feather by feather. Skin from bone. Bone from my very being until I was left nothing but a husk of who I used to be. Go ahead. Try to kill me. Though, believe me, you’ve never fought a man who’s already dead.”

The man’s eyebrows deepened, “Stay for the real show. It starts in thirty minutes, after all the wannabes leave.”

Jason slipped back into the shadows without a word. He tracked Bruce and Dick opening cages, and the Angels fly into and out of the shadows. It was a slow process to make sure no one noticed, though they were making good progress. To the point where there were only three cages they hadn’t gotten to by the time the 30 minutes were up.

There was the sound of gunshots as the man he was talking to earlier held a gun to the air and stalked to the center of the room, withering vulture wings visible. “Scram! Or the ceiling won’t be the only thing with bulletholes in it.” Just to prove his point, vulture wings grabbed the nearest person and shot them in the head.

There was the sound of wings rustling the air as the uninvited guests left. Followed by a couple more gunshots.

Vulture Wings turned back to the remaining crowd, “Well well well, my friends, you’ve just made it to the afterparty, and should I tell you, you’re in for a real treat tonight.” the room erupted into cheers, but died down as soon as Vulture Wings put his hand up. “Now, Now. Before I show you the Good I’ve got stalked up, I’ll be giving you a disclaimer. This one, is not for sale.” a rumble of Boos chimed throughout the basement, “Hold on! Hold on! You’ll all get something out of this. Donny! Bring out the feathers! And Tony! You know your que.” Donny brought four bags to Vulture Man, “Now, we all know our dear Guardian Angels of Gotham. Of Bruce Wayne and his Protectors Wings. And of Dick Grayson and his Virtues Wings. Though, there’s another Guardian Angel. One who’s wings we’ve never seen. There are certain people who theorize that the little one is just a late bloomer, or that he’s not an Angel so to stick with branding he keeps his wings hidden.” Vulture Wings let out a laugh  and unzipped one of the duffles, pulling out a singular, pristine white feather. One that seemed to have an ethereal glow to it. “Boy were they wrong.”

There was the screeching of old hinges being unlocked above them. Something– someone was being lowered from the loft.

A Seraphim.

Angel Jason.

He was hanging by his arms, and his legs were bare. All broken and bruised. His wings were next to bare. Most of The feathers had been plucked off, leaving a spare few that were stained red with blood. Two sets of the broken bare wings were curled in to shield his body and face. The last set were hanging at a painfully unnatural angle. 

“No. No! ” He couldn’t pin down the emotion in Angel Dick’s cry. Rage? Fear? Grief? Vengance ? 

Doesn’t matter, because either way, all hell broke loose.

All the Tainted Wings started lunging for the duffle bags filled with feathers, taking down anyone who got in their way. 

Angel Bruce was busy trying to make sure the duffles didn’t end up in the wrong hands, while Angel Dick was trying to make it to Angel Jason, but kept getting pulled back anyone with Tainted wings who were also trying to get to the Seraphim.

Jason had to get to him. He-he promised Angel Bruce, He he couldn’t let an Angel die.  

Jason summoned his All-Blades, and began slashing and stabbing, with only one thing in mind.

How could they have seen something so holy and defiled it?

He could feel his soul burn up with every Tainted Wing he banished, like a fire that was slowly simmering out, but he couldn’t make himself care. If he had to lose his soul in order to save an Angel , someone who’s soul was probably worth trillions of his, he would do it. He would do it in a heartbeat.

Suddenly, Angel Jason jerked down. 

The rope he was hanging from was fraying. 

Jason’s eyes snapped to Dick, who already had his grapple out and was flinging himself towards the Angel. But he was bodyslammed off of his trajectory. Angel Dick was surrounded by Tainted Wings, desparately trying to shake them loose so he could save his brother. And both Bruces were occupied too.

And Jason… Jason wouldn’t make it to him in time.

He watched as the rope snapped. He watched as the Seraphim fell, seemingly in slow motion. He heard a shout come from Dick, though he wasn’t sure which one. 

He was sure everything had frozen when Jay made contact with the ground.

An Angel had fallen.

Something had slammed into Jason’s head hard, and for a second, he didn’t see the broken wings of an angel. He saw the tattered yellow cape of a Robin. He saw a face that was tinged blue with Hypothermia. A mouth filling with blood from a punctured rib. A neck bleeding out. A Lamb to the slaughter curling in on himself. A doll.

Jason thrusted his Blade into a stomach, as he got back onto his shaky legs. 

A fallen Angel.

Angel Dick rushed to the Seraphim. Mercilessly taking out anyone who was in his way. Jason took out anyone who got too close to the pair. 

Angel Dick cradled Angel Jason in his arms. “Jason… Jason, can you, can you stay awake for me? Please?” Jason knew he was gone, deep in his being, but Angel Dick continued, “Please, Jason. You can… just rant to me about that one story? Like you always do. The one… what was his name, Icarus? It was Icarus right? And spring? It was spring when he fell. It’s not spring right now. And you don’t have– why would anyone have wings made of wax, that’s just stupid. And whoever wrote that story was dumb, because obviously the higher up you go, the colder it gets, so the wax wouldn’t melt, it would’ve frozen and gotten hard. Jason.” Dick shook him and one of his wings stopped veiling his face, “Jason. It’s not spring. You don’t have wings of wax, your–your wings are mine, and- and my wings are yours. You’re my wings. And you can’t– Jason! You asshole, wake up!” Dick smacked his face but it didn’t do anything, “You promised. You promised we could fly together after– after you told Bruce. You promised we’d fly together, and I promised I would teach you. If you can’t fly then I can’t. I can’t. If you’re not next to me, I’m not going to fly. I can’t fly. Don’t you understand? You’re my wings. I can’t fly without my wings.”

Jason realized no one was attacking them anymore. Which was a good thing because he was pretty sure if he stabbed one more Tainted Wing, his soul would completely disappear. 

He felt his knees go limp and his head spin. 

Dick Grayson, the last Flying Grayson, a man who’s feet were probably in the air more often than they were on the ground– something that had to be true across the multiverse, because if it wasn’t that wasn’t Dick Grayson– couldn’t fly because his brother couldn’t. Because it wasn’t Dick’s wing’s that were his soul, it was his family. His family was his soul. His family was his wings. And he couldn’t fly without his wings.

A pair of hands grabbed his face and it took him a moment to piece together that they belonged to Dick. His brother. He immediately rested his forehead into the crook of his kneck, trust be damned. Or whatever complicated feelings that ranged between them, be damned.

Everthing turned white around them, and he was pretty sure he had passed out, until a voice spoke. 

A very familiar voice. 

“You have mastered the All-Blades?”

Jason could feel the very blades in question retract back into his soul as he turned his head so he could confirm who he was speaking with, with his eyes, “Oh. Hi Talia. Yes.” 

And then he passed out.

[vulnonapixs-marvel-corner]

(This plays in the "Kingpin steals Peters's egg to create a war" with dragon emperor Peter, au no one cared for)

Except that instead of Mayday, Miles is the one kidnapped.

A bit of backstory/background:

Miles is a cursed child. A human that is so in tune with the magic, that he will adapt to the magical beings around him.

Under kingpins reign, cursed children were collected and turned into living weapons.

To hide him, Aaron became one of kingpins high knights and his parents used a variety of charms to null the magic around him.

It made Miles a sickly but ensured his survival.

Then along came Beter, a wandering dragon who stole some food from the boy.

At least he tried that when Miles collapsed due to the charms.

Long story short, he takes Miles under his wing, Aaron gets killed after Kingpin realizes what Miles is and Miles takes down Kingpin together with Peter, who then is crowned emperor.

Due to his cursed child status, Miles takes more and more after Peter, even growing wings and horns at some time.

For Peter, he became an emotional support son and heir to the kingdom.

Everything seemed great, till Peter and MJ spawned an egg.

Now, dragons are extremely protective about their hatchling, so Miles cut his losses and left before Peter could see him as a danger and kill him.

On his way traveling to his hometown, he was taken by Kingpin's minions.

To make their messages clear to Peter, they send him Miles wings, horns, scales, and tail.

Once they "harvested" his body, they just left him alone in the basement.

After all, he was the main reason why kingpin lost power, so he deserved to die like a traitor.

Forgotten and all alone.

He didn't die, because Hobie (an adventurer) found him and patched him up.

Due to everything that had happened, Miles repressed all his memories surrounding Peter and dragons.

Hobie takes Miles into his little group of misfits and they travel the land together.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Christ our Source, our Sustenance, and our Solace

Is it possible that living for Christ brings more joy than any worldly pleasure? Could the purpose of our life be to strive to grow like Him, in His image and following His footsteps?

When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory. — Colossians 3:4

Christ is the source of our life. It is He who breathed life into us and reawakened us from the death of our trespasses and sins. It is His life that quickens our own; it is He who resides within us, offering hope and steering our actions.

Christ is also the sustenance of our life. It is His flesh and blood that feeds us, His divine substance that gives us life. As travelers on the path of righteousness, we can find no satisfying sustenance for our spirits except in Him.

Moreover, Christ is our solace in good times and even more so in days of distress. True joy, comfort, and consolation in difficult times are all derived from Him. Without Him, life is devoid of meaning, but His kindness and love are far more precious than life itself.

Christ should be the goal of our life. Like a ship speeding toward a safe port or an arrow flying to its target, we must hasten toward a deep, fulfilling relationship with Christ. He is our captain, our guide, and in His victory that we find our own triumph.

Finally, Christ is our life's exemplar—our one true example and role model. As we cultivate His life within us, we start to show His characteristics externally. By constantly maintaining fellowship with Him, we grow to become more like Him, setting Him as our model. We aim to tread in His footsteps until we eventually appear with Him in glory. What could be safer, more honorable, or happier than living with Christ as our life?

May You, O Lord, be our life source. Guide us to find solace and sustenance in You. Help us to strive toward You as our ultimate goal. May we grow to reflect Your image and glory.

Questions for Reflection

How does understanding Christ as the source of your life change your perspective on daily living?

How can you better incorporate Christ's teachings as the sustenance of your life?

What does it mean to you to have Christ as the solace of your life, especially during challenging times?

In what ways can you make Christ the ultimate goal of your life?

How can you seek to reflect Christ as your life's exemplar in your daily actions?

How can Christ's lovingkindness be better than life, especially in moments of despair?

How can you maintain a closer fellowship with Christ in your daily routines?

How can you apply the concept of Christ's victory as your own in overcoming personal challenges?

How would you explain to someone else that Christ is the source, sustenance, solace, goal, and exemplar of your life?

How does living in Christ change the way you interact with others?

In what ways can Christ's presence influence societal change?

What practical steps can you take to cultivate Christ's life within you?

Supporting Scriptures

Romans 8:10: But if Christ is in you, your body is dead because of sin, yet your spirit is alive because of righteousness.

Galatians 2:20: I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.

Philippians 1:21: For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.

1 Peter 1:7: so that the proven character of your faith—more precious than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

1 John 3:2: Beloved, we are now children of God, and what we will be has not yet been revealed. We know that when Christ appears, we will be like Him, for we will see Him as He is.

Revelation 1:7: Behold, He is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see Him—even those who pierced Him. And all the tribes of the earth will mourn because of Him. So shall it be! Amen.

Revelation 22:20: He who testifies to these things says, “Yes, I am coming soon.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!