#actually I know exactly how he’d justify the first thing to himself

[drakesroyalromance]

So kissing her wrist is where he draws the line?? His boundaries are confusing

[sepublic]

            I love ragging on Belos but also DAMN he’s fiendishly clever. Like let’s analyze his ‘reunion’ with the Collector;

         Gets caught, Collector is suspicious and scared? Belos immediately calms him down by making the Collector feel in control over his own spell he openly doubted, pointing to the moon symbol on Raine’s forehead; Telling this kid not to worry about his most immediate question! And then Belos justifies the anomaly by playing along with the wishful fantasy rules of a kid who believes in the magic of friendship! Anything can happen, so no need to question any further, he flatters the child.

         Then there’s his next line, in which Belos warns the Collector that he’s in danger, which is incredibly vague and could mean anything; And in the couple of seconds it takes the Collector to react in derision, Belos figures out he needs to be more specific and how to elaborate on this, claiming someone is going to betray the Collector.

         Note that he never name-drops anyone on his own, because Belos doesn’t really know who’s around the Collector, other than Odalia. But just in case, he keeps it vague so the Collector can provide an answer for him, the first person he’d assume, and thus the one whose betrayal he fears the most: King!

         Belos latches onto that. He sees King isn’t here, so he asks where is he? Note he doesn’t give an answer, doesn’t make any claims because he doesn’t KNOW anything. Belos is trying to avoid saying something that can be contradicted later on, so he keeps it vague by throwing a very simple, ‘safe’ question that nevertheless makes the kid doubt.

         The Collector watches, is reassured, looks back to Belos to brag! Then he checks again, sees what King said, and looks away. The kid is concerned, but he’s not jumping to any conclusions, and you may think, oh! This is where he checks again, just to be sure.

         And that’s when Belos drops the bombshell; Luz is here. And as he so cleverly plans, this revelation shocks the Collector, distracting them from checking on King again to hear what he ACTUALLY meant. Because Belos doesn’t know for sure how genuine King is or not, but either way, the less this kid is actually in touch with the outside world, the easier it is for Belos to control the narrative and filter all information through himself. The kid has seen enough to doubt, no need for him to find out more and potentially clarify.

         Likewise, Belos has been manipulating this kid for hundreds of years; Like it or not, the Collector is the longest relationship he’s ever had in his life, by a long shot. He knows the kid’s psychology in and out, he knows exactly which buttons to press, and he guesses at how jealous the Collector can get. If he’s friends with King and holds him in high regard, then King has probably told him about Luz during the time they’ve been hanging out. 

        And that Collector is an insecure kid… So Belos creates an Us VS Them scenario, plays into the Collector’s worst fears of King replacing him for Luz (gee, it’s like Philip speaks these insecurities from experience). The fact that Belos himself contributed deeply to the Collector’s trust issues, and is now using them is just. Ugh.

         Now Luz is something Belos DOES know about, having inhabited Hunter, knowing she followed right behind him and does plan to change things, and herself doesn’t know any more than he does; If anything, she knows less! So Belos is a lot more free to make claims about Luz’s motives and goals here, because he actually knows them for the most part. Luz is something Belos can guarantee and thus reliably interpret for the Collector to support his claim.

        That creates an unpredictable element that unsettles the kid, pair that up with the ambiguity of what King said (never checked back on, due to Belos diverting the Collector’s attention) and you’ve got the perfect recipe to manipulate this child all over again… An empty sandbox the Collector can’t verify from which Belos can craft a new narrative with, and anytime something comes along that can be interpreted in its favor, like the ending of the episode? You betcha.

         God he’s so smart, so confident that you might not even notice at first how baseless Belos’ claims are. You’d understandably think he actually DID somehow know, and wasn’t just adapting and having good luck in guessing! Imagine society if Belos weaponized his autism for actual good.

[brekwrites]

Moon’s deterioration as depicted in the thumbnails

So, I don’t claim to know what’s going on in the current SAMS arc bc I truly have no idea, but I have seen some people mention some of the glitch effects and how Moon has gradually acquired a purple glow and thought it was interesting. So I went back through the thumbnails and noticed some stuff that I’m gonna dump under the cut. Fair warning, this is long.

So, starting all the way back with the ep where Dark Sun gives Moon an ominous hint and then fucks off:

Dark Sun drops this info, which he already knew and could have revealed at any time, and keeps it purposely vague so there’s still some confusion and no immediate action taken. Then he gets in his purple portal and fucks off.

The delay in him giving the information and purposeful vagueness almost make it seem like he’s stalling for time so Ruin can complete his plan, but we know he’s not actually working with Ruin because they don’t interact until later, and even then he’s using Ruin against his will as a pawn more than anything else. If he’s not working with Ruin, he must still have something to gain from his plan working; either the death of the creators, the death of Solar, or both.

After this, Ruin’s true nature is revealed and yadda yadda:

These are both action packed thumbnails with big shocking reveals, and I want to use them to illustrate a point. Despite the fact that there’s lots of stuff happening visually, there’s a difference between these thumbnails and this one:

The thumbnail for the episode with Solar’s death has a big heart monitor/heartbeat symbol. Also, Solar is glowing a slight purple color as he fades away (and missing two fingers). I’m not entirely sure if either of those facts are significant, but I do think the heartbeat symbol is.

After Solar’s death, the next big plot points are:

Dark Sun planting the idea that Moon’s proposed way won’t bring Solar back, but there’s another way that will, and then telling Eclipse that method and jamming a chip in his head to 1) slow him down and keep him from bringing Solar back too quickly, and 2) keep Moon from being able to sacrifice him for the equivalent exchange method.

So, Dark Sun just planted the idea of bringing Solar back, while also ensuring it only happens when and how he wants it to. Considering he also took measures to make sure the events leading to Solar’s death occurred in the first place, this is interesting.

While this is happening:

Moon talks to his old self, which punches him right in the insecurities and kickstarts his obsession with keeping his family happy. It also gives him a connection to Old Moon that he didn’t have before, which becomes more of a thing later.

While Moon is doing this:

Molten steals Ruin, so when Moon wakes up he realizes he’s lost the resource he was using to research ways to bring Solar back. On top of that, he finally realizes what exactly bringing Solar back will entail—a sacrifice. And he’s just lost the most morally justifiable person he could’ve sacrificed. So he loses it.

In this episode, Moon breaks down bc he’s been pushing himself to bring Solar back. He misses him and just wants to see his family happy and whole again. He’s also upset about the fact that he’d have to kill someone to get Solar back because he DOESN’T want to do that.

When Eclipse wanted to kill Ruin after finding out he’d build him, Moon told him no and specifically said who are we to decide who lives and dies. This was right after Solar’s death, and he still didn’t want to kill him. Now, he has a logical reason to do so and is STILL incredibly conflicted about it. He’s crying and breaking down like he knows he’s already lost Solar for good because he lost Ruin, who is one of his only options for bringing him back. (Also, it's possible that he knows deep down that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to sacrifice him even if he was there, or that his family wouldn't want it.) After this breakdown...

Moon has the hallucination/waking dream where he sees what could have happened if Solar survived, which is the beginning of the end for him. After this, he struggles to figure out what's real and takes a turn for the worse. And here, in the first (lore) episode Solar has been in since his death, we see the little heartbeat symbol again.

Meanwhile, Dark Sun rescues Ruin, sticks a chip in his head, and sends him back knowing that Moon won't be able to use him to bring back Solar. (Also, Ruin is glowing and flaking like Solar was, but his glow is teal. Teal seems to represent star power, possibly, because it's often there when Lunar uses it and it's present in the thumbnail of the later episode where Moon uses it. Not sure if this is relevant tho or if it was just a fun design choice here.)

Moon is starting to lose it, decides he'll do what he has to do to keep his family happy regardless of whether they actually want it and even if it makes them hate him. This is also the first time we start to see the glitchy imagery used in the background.

Importantly, this is when his actions start to contrast his earlier feelings. He decides to bring Solar back by any means possible and to sacrifice Ruin, which he specifically did not want to do before.

After he makes this decision and realizes Ruin is back, he goes to recapture him, initially with the intent to use him as a sacrifice. When he finds out he can't, he's livid. This is the first time we've seen him act on the violent impulses he's had, and it's also the first time we see the eye on the darker half of his face hidden.

After that, Moon starts to gradually get... purpler. Here, he's surrounded by it, but not really purple himself, and both eyes are normal as he keeps up the facade around his family.

But Eclipse gets a glimpse of what's actually happening when he goes to get evidence for Earth. Moon threatens him, and he reveals the Dark Sun did something to him, too, so he also can't be used as a sacrifice. This is when Moon sets his sights on Bloodmoon. Even more glitch imagery and purple shading that's starting to creep across his body, little red corruption lines on his face, and once again his left eye is obscured.

Once Sun realizes just how bad things have gotten, he starts to plan against Moon. Here, Moon is fully shaded purple and both eyes are obscured. (Maybe possibly because this is technically Sun's mental image of him, and Sun isn't entirely sure what he's dealing with yet and doesn't know what Moon is thinking?).

Then, in the episode where Moon sees Old Moon, he's finally glowing. As Old Moon grabs him, the eye on the lighter side of his face glitches. Also, we see the return of the little heartbeat symbols because this is the first episode where Moon sees the hallucination of Solar, even though he's not in the thumbnail. This picture is also good for contrasting Moon's typical color pallet with his purple-hued one.

Moon resists the advice of his conscience and goes to harass Eclipse. He breaks his fingers (noticeably the same ones Solar was missing), which is arguably the cruelest thing he's done yet (considering he choked Ruin, who murdered his friend, but he ripped off Eclipse's fingers when this version hasn't done anyone any bodily harm and was helping Earth). He's still glowing purple, and his shadow shows TWO red eyelights.

Once Sun captures him, their conversation is at least somewhat civil, even if it's not great. Moon is still glowing here, and we see one red eyelight on the dark side of his face, but his light eye is normal. This is also another episode where his conscience argues against him in the form of Solar, and he struggles to rationalize what he's doing.

After escaping and fully committing to being the villain, he's glowing an even darker purple and both eyes are glowing red.

When he tries to kill Bloodmoon, he's still glowing purple, and his eyes are still glowing red. This is also where he realizes he doesn't care if he hurts Earth (hence no normal eye on his lighter side). He admits that he was bluffing a bit before when he said it, but not anymore.

Finally, Dark Sun convinces Moon to go with him. He's still glowing purple here and one eye is glowing red, but the eye on the light side of his face is normal. This makes sense, because we see him fighting with himself over what he did in the beginning of this ep. He allows Dark Sun to remove the chip and even suggests for a moment that they could be brothers, which I feel speaks to how much he does want his family deep down, even if he says he doesn't.

While we can't say for certain that the removed chip was Old Moon, I think it's a reasonable theory considering they've started talking about the chip in relation to Old Moon and how Monty said he'd need to make a replacement chip, which Dark Sun also mentions. Once the chip is gone, Moon feels free of his inhibitions, which would make sense if Old Moon was trying to stop him and fits the eye imagery. Finally, I think it's interesting how Dark Sun is glowing yellow in this thumbnail and how he's been depicted with red irises on white sclera, while the corrupted half of Moon's face is depicted as red irises on presumably black sclera. Parallels, and all that.

So, yeah, I think it's a good bet that whatever is going on with Moon was Dark Sun's goal all along, although idk for what purpose. Also, I'm not sure if he did anything to Moon, either by giving him a virus/program or by triggering some of his hallucinations, or if it was the situation itself (which he engineered, but not completely) that caused Moon to snap without any direct interference. Either way, I think that Moon is being taken over by 'the Purple,' and that whatever it is, it's beneficial to Dark Sun's plans.

Finally, one last thing I noticed is that the Purple is not just Moon indulging in his more destructive tendencies alone, because he looks perfectly normal during the rage room episode.

So I do think that this is likely something more than just Moon himself falling off the deep end. That definitely doesn't excuse his actions, but it does suggest that there might be something more going on and he might not be fully in control of himself.

[dawn-sunlight]

A New Way To Go Analysis

I believe A New Way To Go is the best Lion Guard song because absolutely everyone brought their A game while making it. The visuals are amazing, the tune is catchy, but I think the best thing about the song is how well it illustrates exactly what's going through Janja's head. There's so much character work you can glean from the song and that's what's so good about it.

“Why am I so confused?  It all used to be so simple.” - Jasiri has completely upset the status quo for Janja; she doesn’t fit in his worldview because she’s a strong, capable hyena who follows the Circle of Life, is friends with a lion(the leader of the Lion Guard no less), and has saved him from death twice now despite being on the opposite side as him, and he can’t ignore his growing feeling that maybe everything he’s known all his life is actually wrong. He didn’t know there was another way, he genuinely thought he had to act like this, but now that Jasiri has offered him another way, he can’t get himself to just forget about it and carry on like normal.

“What changed?  Think!” - He didn’t used to have these doubts, and he’s trying to figure out what’s different now.  He’s trying to figure out and understand what has changed significantly enough to make him question his life and his beliefs like this.

“Jasiri doesn’t fear me she’s been saving my hide!” - He wants to be seen as this tough and intimidating figure, and at first it bugs him that Jasiri isn’t intimidated by him as seen in Never Judge a Hyena by It’s Spots, but now it just confuses him.  And on top of that, she saves him, not just once but twice, despite being on the opposite side as him.

“I know she buys the whole ‘Circle of Life’” - The choice of words here(he says Jasiri “buys” the concept rather than she follows it or respects it or something like that) implies that Janja thought the concept was literally made up and not real, which I do believe is a different case than someone who knows the concept is real and still decides they want more than their fair share.

“I mean, Si Si Ni Sawa’s kinda catchy all right.” - He’s trying to justify to himself why he’s been thinking about what Jasiri said so much.  Also, this song confirms he saw at least the last verse of Si Si Ni Sawa because 1. He knows the chorus to the song despite having never having been sung it, 2. He knows Jasiri sung it to Kion, and 3. He imitates the thing Kion and Jasiri did at the end of the song in his last verse of the chorus.

“He’d never give me something a hyena couldn’t handle, would he?” - Janja's trying really hard to rationalize Scar's behavior and treatment of him and his clan, but his faith in Scar is starting to waver. In the visuals, we see Scar with his master plan, and then we see Janja, Cheezi, and Chungu holding the ground up for him because they’re doing the heavy lifting for Scar.  But when Janja asks “would he?” indicating that he no longer has complete and total faith in Scar, the whole thing crashes down.

This shot right here is beautiful, it really just sums up the whole song in one singular frame.

“‘Si si ni sawa’ means ‘we’re the same’” “Oh no!  It set something off inside my brain!” - Janja hates that Jasiri’s words make sense to him, and he hates that they’re resonating with him even more.

“She says I can trust her but I don’t know, could there really be a new way to go?” - Janja genuinely doesn’t know any better and that’s why he acts the way he does.

“It’s like I’d rather be happy then scrapping for food or respect ugh what’s happening?” - I think this is the line that gets me the most because it shows that Janja never considered his own feelings on things to be more important or even of equal importance than living up to expectations, and when he finally considers “maybe I’d be happier on the other side” he goes “this is ridiculous why am I thinking like this?”  To Janja, it didn’t matter what he actually wanted, because the way others saw him and getting food were more important than silly things like happiness.

“Maybe the stuff I thought was wrong was right! I think I like it but I’m still undecided how to choose, what to do!” - He’s torn between what he’s known all his life as the truth and what he’s “supposed” to do vs what his feelings are saying on the matter.

Since Jasiri told Kion they’re the same, if Janja accepts that what Jasiri says is true and Jasiri and him are the same, that means he also accepts that Kion and him are the same, and Janja knows this.  During the first chorus of A New Way to Go, Jasiri sings Si Si Ni Sawa to Janja, while in the second, she sings it to Kion.  While in the first instance Janja seems more worried about the fact that it resonated, in the second instance Janja seems more annoyed about this.  This and the fact that he crushes them with his paw during the second time indicates that he knows accepting what Jasiri said also means accepting that Kion and him are the same, and that’s something he really does not want to acknowledge.

One of the things the visuals of this song really show is that Janja clearly feels separated from the other side, even Jasiri, and doesn’t know if he really could switch sides because of the divide he feels.

The ending shot is very interesting because of this; while Janja still has his Outlander coloring, the Outlander spotlight is gone, making him still stick out but putting him in the same world as Jasiri and her hyenas, indicating that Janja has accepted what Jasiri is saying, even if only subconsciously.

Jasiri’s portrayal here vs The Worst Hyena We Know is pretty interesting, because in that song Jasiri is much more closed off to Janja.  She’s playful and somewhat flirty towards him, but still has a dismissive and “haha losers” attitude towards him and his hyenas.  Here however, she is a lot more sympathetic and open towards him.  She’s lost the snarky and dismissive attitude she had in The Worst Hyena We Know and is just playful now.  This is because before, Janja only had those kinds of experiences with Jasiri and probably thought Jasiri would push him off a cliff if given the chance(given the fact that he was surprised that she saved him from a horrible death via falling into lava I don’t think this is a crazy conclusion to come to), but now, he knows that’s very not true.

There's even this neat part here where you can parallel the two songs and see the difference

[howlsofbloodhounds]

TW: medical/revenge whump. Abuse of authority/power. Torture. Reprogramming/reconditioning under the guise of “therapy” and “helping.” Abuse, gaslighting, manipulating, mentioned starvation and murder. Dehumanization, drugging, withholding medication.

Whumper(s) want revenge/justice, and at least one believes they’re “helping” and justified.

So I was thinking more about killer and revenge/medical whump. And a dark turn on how he asked Color to “teach him how to be a good person.”

And I was thinking about his Good Ending, and how staying in the Omega Timeline (with Color) requires him getting some actual therapeutic services and support.

Some medical intervention, possibly even needing to get his levels of DT checked or monitored.

Support for any blindness, chronic pain & fatigue, possibly even any dissociative/psychogenic nonepileptic seizures (PNES), he could struggle with. Deconditioning and deprogramming. CBT.

Medication. Any communication and food therapists.

And like this leaves him in a very vulnerable position, and puts strangers he doesn’t know or trust—who do know and have every reason to hate him—in a position of power over him.

So I’d imagine he’d be put in a highly guarded cell. They say it’s for his own protection but no one’s ever really protected him before. He thinks they’re trying to protect the staff and other patients from him.

A part of him is pleased to know that. Another is ashamed.

It changes with a certain member of the staff, however. They have a lot of power and authority in this facility, and they are someone Killer has hurt very, very badly before.

Yet he doesn’t recognize them, or if he does, it’s only as something vague like “an Undyne” or “a Toriel.” He doesn’t remember what exactly he did or said to them, how he wronged them—which only makes this person’s anger worse.

Maybe Killer doesn’t even notice anything up at first until he notices a change in his body’s reaction to medication, certain looks and comments they send his way.

But he doesn’t deny any of this person’s accusations—he fully heartedly believes he’s completely capable of whatever atrocities they said he did. He doesn’t trust himself that much. He doesn’t need much proof.

And I don’t know. Maybe this person was initially just planning to confront it, or kill it, or just torture it.

But maybe they see genuine remorse and guilt in Stage 1, and decide that they will help decondition it.

They see now that it was a tool, a machine, and machine’s can be fixed. Even one taught to do bad things can be good, they just need to show it how. And it wants to be good, it wants this. So they’ll be a better teacher than the one’s who had it before.

And like, maybe Killer’s Stage 1 self fully buys into it eventually. He doesn’t tell anyone what’s happening because he believes he deserves it, and it’s only fair. And that he’ll come away fixed and better again.

If he’s ever allowed into Stage 2 for very long to attempt to escape the pain—which is something the teacher discourages, because good things don’t run away from their crimes and selfishly numb out their guilt—he still doesn’t tell anyone anything. Believing it doesn’t matter.

He’s once again clinging to Color’s visits for any sense of hope, and doesn’t really believe it’s possible for him to live without pain or be free anymore.

So he just tries to enjoy what little he has left, even as They snap at him to stop pretending he is something that can care about anyone or anything. They say he is manipulating Color, trying to trick his “friend” into helping him escape and run back to Nightmare to be evil again. They say that good people are honest.

Eventually Killer just stops seeing Color or responding to any letters. He can’t be around him without wanting to hide in Stage 2, but he cannot do that anymore. It’s bad.

Anytime he acts on previous conditioned behaviors or beliefs, he’s punished for it—such as taking away basic necessities, solitary confinement, restraining him either with a straight jacket or with chains.

If the new teacher is an AU of a Chara, there’s a possibility Stage 4 would just be relieved that They haven’t left it and fall back on its old habits.

Only to get increasingly confused and hurt when They keep treating it harshly —no praise and pleasure when it shows its devotion and loyalty, no reward for fulfilling tasks.

Only pain and pain and pain. It can’t figure out why They aren’t happy with it and why everything it does seems to upset Them. Why They suddenly seem to not want it to exist anymore.

Rather than being convinced to be ‘good,’ Stage 4 will just become more and more convinced that its being bad and attempt to keep doing what always used to make Them happy when They were angry. Like offering dead animals it somehow found, kneeling, somehow handing Them a fork it wasn’t aware it wasn’t supposed to have so They could discipline it.

Offering Them its SOUL.

So between all the Stages; 1 would probably be crying and constantly begging for forgiveness, a lot of panic attacks and moments of falling mute due to overwhelming fear and stress and guilt (selective mutism.) He’ll be punished for for behaving childish and being disruptive.

Stage 3 is completely nonverbal, and likely always snapping and snarling and tugging against the chains or jacket. Trying to attack and run.

Like quietly curling up in a corner whenever finally left alone, uncontrollable twitching and harsh stimming behavior; such as smacking his skull against the wall repeatedly. Unlikely to whimper regardless of how much he wants to. Curl up in such a way to protect his stomach and SOUL, and unlikely to sleep.

He’s punished for not speaking, for behaving like an animal, punished if he doesn’t use his words. For hoarding food and eating with his hands too fast. For biting and scratching, and for twitching/hurting himself “for attention.” For being ungrateful and not sleeping.

The more Stage 4’s desperation for Their approval increases the more and more Killer becomes unstable. It’s punished for punishing itself after every failure, every expression of emotion.

It’s punished for becoming so desperate for things to make sense that it starts basically becoming even more Determined to prove its loyalty the only way it knows how—by trying to kill, kill, kill.

Stage 4’s entire world will be flipped on its head simply because it will not think to do the things that this Chara deems “good.” Because it was taught differently, that killing is good, that’s its purpose, it must. It does not know the concept of mercy or kindness and would never think to offer any to “lines of codes.”

It will try to adapt, because it wants to please Them, but They refer to it as if it is a person. They get mad at it when it does not react to death or pain. They call it words when it brings Them offerings.

If They constantly give it punishment after punishment it and it doesn’t understand why, and no rewards or being rewarded for doing the ‘bad’ things it’ll only feel like a test.

It won’t understand why not killing is being rewarded—it should not be, it has been bad. It has been ungrateful and disobedient.

It won’t accept food as rewards because that is not what it’s supposed to do. It accepts food only at certain times every week.

It won’t make choices, express autonomy, or display any moral judgment—it will not accept positive reinforcement for disobedient behavior such as trying to be led to believe it is a person or capable of making any choice. It will resist any attempts to be humanized.

If the new teacher is an AU of Chara, it will rapidly oscillate between instinctive, reverent obedience and resistance—falling more and more into confusion and cognitive dissonance. A rising sense of betrayal because They never did this before and Where is the real Them? and have They abandoned it?

Stage 4 will likely suffer a lot of breakdowns and shutdowns trying to be taught how to be a “good person,” because it fundamentally does not view itself as a person.

But if the new teacher is not an AU of a Chara or doesn’t have “Their heart,” (the locket), Stage 4 is likely to be extremely dismissive of them. “This one is not a person. Do not pretend as if it is.” or “They have no use for your kind of goodness.”

Likely to either straight up ignore or dismiss any attempts to change it, dismissing the words as a part of this particular code’s script. Mock any attempts to convince it to participate.

Will likely not accept any form of punishment from anyone who isn’t Them or allowed by Them, fighting back against punishment and not accepting reward. More likely to plan a way to kill this particular code to reaffirm its devotion to Them.

Meanwhile Stage 2 would be apathetic, playing along when it benefits him; pretending he’s “learning.”

He’d passively take any punishment or reward without any genuine care, regardless of how he pretends or any sarcastic comments. This is very likely the Stage planning the escape/revenge, if he cares at all.

(The way to get him to comply is likely to get him to doubt his memory and experiences.

Convince him that everything that happened with Nightmare and after Nightmare never really happened, was all just a dream or—if the new teacher is an AU of Chara—that there’s been another Reset.

And instead he’s still in his timeline, and either Chara is teaching him something new or he got help from the rest of the Underground after killing them. Reinforces the message that he “wants this.”)

If the new teacher is an au of Chara, Stage 4 would be too far caught up in Their presence and just wouldn’t want to leave—would never think of it. If the teacher isn’t an AU of Chara, it’d just be thinking of ways to slaughter them and escape to return to Them.

Stage 1 would believe he deserves it, and the teacher is only teaching him how to be better. Whereas Stage 3 lives in the moment, resisting any attempts to be changed for any reason whatsoever and fighting back with every punishment.

Killer will likely have to be heavily sedated just to be able to properly “work with” him without hurting himself or anyone else—likely often either dehumanized or infantilized heavily. He will attempt to regain some margin of control, even if it’s as simple as biting the hands that literally feed him or spitting in their faces.

[wolvertooth]

as per my last post, i actually take the 'worst written wolverine' thing back. i've seen far worse. hes actually pretty entertaining in this(and considering how often i wish for rep of logan being a huge jerk, im not exactly in the right to complain here. i got Exactly what i asked for lmao oops)

also per my last post, did some investigating for how long that drive would be—

nne vancouver, thats likely mount seymour park(i can vouch, i live here), to montana…..

BROTHER THATS A 14 HOUR DRIVE AT LEAST.

u know vics lonely ass didnt stop talking that entire trip. so logan running him over with a truck and stabbing him thru the skull is a bit justified ig.

anyway. parallel between a girl he fought once and immediately madeout with / fucked mid fight(panels are post-sex) + guy hes been fighting with for 40 years

god.

and the bit later? back with willoughby? after he recovered from getting a truck parked on him by logan?

sure he hates him but thats his BUDDY. he wouldnt kill him even for 5 million. and this is literally coming from mr new money. mr does anything for a paycheck.

and the final fight……

at first glance it could be jealousy, but really, victors trying to convince him hes doing right by killing her. that its not just some random act of villainy.

that this is the kinda 'right' thing that he knows logan cant do himself, and that hes doing him a favor by being the one to act on it.

but hes also trying to hide the fact that hes not actually killing her out of mercy, hes killing her cuz hes scared of getting replaced. of them getting replaced.

he thinks of this as not just a thing for himself, but for the good of both of them.

its an incredibly one sided relationship of care. if he really saw logan as an enemy, he’d see him in the same way he views feral, a guy out to replace him.

but he doesnt. he sees them on equal plane, like a member of a pack, while logan is completely blind to his efforts. which is why this comic makes me go fucking insane.

(Wolverine 2003, issues #13 - #19)

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[cal-daisies-and-briars]

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Damn! 162!

SPOILERS AHEAD

---

Consciousness returns to Buck like something slippery and elusive. An eel under murky water. Every time he thinks he’s got a grasp on it, it manages to get away from him. 

His memory of the time between passing out in the backseat of Maddie’s car and firmly feeling lucid again is fragile. He knows he did wake a handful of times. Knows people spoke to him. Though their words always sounded like gibberish. He knows he was burning hot, then freezing cold. He knows he was nauseated and parched and in horrendous amounts of pain. But, when he finally has a hold on his mind again, Buck can’t say exactly what has happened to him. 

He isn’t sure he’s a vampire. Though he remembers that was a risk. Even before he opens his eyes, he’s thinking about it. How would he know? Does one feel vampiric? He just feels gross. Heavy and foggy and sore in several places. Thirsty. Very thirsty. But for water. He manages to wiggle his tongue - which feels like lead in his mouth - enough to touch the bottom line of his upper canines. They feel normal. 

Buck cracks his eyes open. They’re dry and crusted with sleep. Immediately, the blare of overhead lighting has him regretting his choices. He remembers this sensation. There’s only one place he could be. The hospital. 

“Buck?” 

No offense to Sophia, who he loves dearly, but hers was not the voice he was most hoping to hear. 

“Soph?” He rasps.  His throat is horrifically dry.

He turns his head to see her sitting by his bedside. She looks tired. She’s wearing a hoodie and jeans. Not what she’d been wearing when he saw her last. 

“You seem actually awake this time,” she observes.

“Think I am,” he agrees, but he can’t be certain. “What day is it?”

“Friday,” she informs him. 

Oh fuck. He confronted Kim Tuesday night. Yikes. That’s a long time to be out. 

Buck looks at himself. Moving his neck too much causes a painful twinge in his shoulder. Probably from the stab wound. He’s got a cast on his left forearm. He can feel bandages scratching at his abdomen and neck. Okay. So he’s rather fucked up.

“Eddie?” Buck asks.

“At home,” Sophia answers. “We didn’t want him here for long. In case anyone wrongly suspected he was the one who did this to you.”

Oh. Buck hadn’t even thought of that outcome. 

“He’s going crazy having to keep away though,” Sophia adds. 

“Maddie?” Buck asks. 

His sister who is rightly furious with him.

“We just switched off,” Sophia says. “She had to go home to her kid. Or, as she said - annoyed, mind you - her other kid.”

Oof.

“She’s really mad?”

“Mad and worried,” Sophia answers. “Like me.”

“I’m sorry I worried you, Soph,” Buck says. “Really.”

“But not that you did it?” 

“Had to try.”

Sophia takes a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll forgive you and I’ll call for a doctor and I’ll text everyone that you’re okay, but… But I need to know one thing first.”

“Okay,” Buck replies. “What is it?”

When Sophia speaks again, her voice is very low. Almost too quiet amidst the noise of hospital machines. She doesn’t want anyone to overhear. 

“Why didn’t you include me, Buck? We would have had a far better shot together. You might not have gotten hurt at all.”

Or they both would have. 

But he gets it. He understands her anger. He would feel the exact same way, if she’d done what he did. They spent so long operating as an airtight team. Trusting only each other. Buck excluded her when, in her opinion, it mattered most. Yeah, he’d be livid, too.

“I didn’t want to make you a murderer,” Buck admits. 

Sophia furrows her brows. She doesn’t understand. 

“We were always ready to kill before,” she says. “We both took the same risks.”

“It’s different,” Buck insists. “That was only ever out of necessity. Dangerous vampires, who weren’t in control. Kim is just a regular person with a life.”

“She hurt you and Eddie!” Sophia hisses. 

“I know,” Buck says. That’s how he justified it, too. “And I hunted her like… Like the very thing we hate, Soph.”

She closes her mouth. He can tell she’s biting the inside of her cheek. 

“I didn’t want you to be that,” Buck says.

“I would have, for my brother,” Sophia protests.

“I know that,” Buck replies. Of course he knows that. That’s why he didn’t tell her. “But Eddie isn’t the only person I want to protect.”

Sophia’s breath hitches at that. Her eyes are a little teary.

“Fuck,” she complains. 

“I’m sorry, Sophia.” Buck says. 

“You should be,” she grumbles. “But I love you too, or whatever.”

Buck smiles weakly. “Thanks for not hating me.”

She rolls her eyes. 

“Now, can you tell me what the hell happened to me?”

💧💧💧

Sophia can’t explain it to him easily, so she calls for the doctor. Which is definitely concerning, to say the least. 

But when the doctor arrives to talk to Buck about his condition, he finds it’s surprisingly… Good? Other than a fractured wrist, and some flesh wounds that will need to heal - and probably require some physio, for his shoulder - he’s more or less okay. He’s not a vampire. He’s not even sick anymore. Apparently he has been quite fevered and ill, he just can’t remember any of it.

“You were indeed exposed to Hemodhampirosis,” the doctor explains. “We monitored your blood closely over the past three days. Somehow, Mr. Buckley, you fought the infection off.”

“That’s… Sorry, what?” Buck asks. “I didn’t know that was an option.”

“Frankly, neither did we.” The doctor replies. “And if the CDC does, it has not been shared with us.”

“I don’t understand,” Buck admits. 

Why him? Of all the people who have been infected. Eddie. May. Why would he be able to fight it off?

“Well, our best guess is that you have, in a slow and painful way, inoculated yourself,” the doctor explains. “Your records state you’ve been hospitalized for a severe bite once before. Likewise, your sister-in-law here explained that there has been another instance of you being bitten by an infected individual. So that makes three occurrences where you came in contact with Hemodhampirosis.”

Sister-in-law? When did that happen?

“Uh,” Buck replies sheepishly. “Yeah, there’s been more than that. Recently.”

[honkytonk-hangman]

Hold The Line

Platonic Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC/Reader

Summary: Jake presses his lips together as he lets out a sigh. He leans forward on the railing again, eyes once more following the little boy who was quite happily playing by himself in the sand. “I just thought that Baby Goose deserved to grow up knowing his dad.”

Warnings: mentions of burning in, jake thought process centric lol

Notes: this is a companion piece to my fic Meet You All The Way, focusing on Jake's friendship with reader and most importantly his duties as Uncle Jake. its not overly necessary to read that first, this does kinda function on its own, but probably read that first hehe

Masterlist

Jake is hit with intense dread the moment Rooster steps foot in the Hard Deck that night. Maybe that's why he reactively starts doing his best to get under the other man’s skin as much as he can, as fast as he can. Jake jabs and pokes and thoroughly pisses Bradshaw off to the best of his not insignificant abilities, but even when he succeeds, it doesn’t do much to stop the pervasive unease that gnaws at him.

Not that he really believed it would. It doesn’t even make him feel any better either, in fact it makes him feel much, much worse.

Things hadn’t always been this way. They had been, for a long time, but the past couple of years or so Jake’s relationship with Bradley Bradshaw had softened, somewhat helped along by his friendship with a certain Dr Lamb, who just so happened to be Bradshaw’s wife, as well as the mother of their kid, a kid that Jake loved just as much as, if not more than, any of his actual family. Stuff like that tends to bring folks together, no matter how resistant.

But Jake hadn’t expected to see Rooster back in San Diego along with the others, the enormity and riskiness of the mission seemingly apparent only to Jake, even if he lied through his teeth when his colleagues mentioned similar concerns, if only to try and tell himself this one was just like the others. In the back of his mind though, Jake knows the Navy doesn't make a habit of building special mission squadrons of their top 1%. It was too risky, if something went wrong, all your top aviators could burn in, leaving you with the other 99% that weren’t chosen for a reason. 

Which is precisely how Jake knows this mission is bad news. Sure, it had to be done, but from a pilot’s standpoint, any time the plan allowed for error, for casualties, it was a bad plan. If every member of the special squadron needed to be the best to ensure the mission was completed, despite the fact that some of them were not expected to make it home, then that told Jake everything he needed to know.

Honestly, Jake didn’t think much about burning in. He knows that kind of hubris usually ends poorly, but the fact is, he was good at his job, one of the best, and everything he ever bragged about was something he could back up. It's partly why many people disliked him. The only thing more annoying than unjustified confidence was completely justified confidence.

The other part was that more often than not he was playing the jerk just to get a rise. The fact is; Jake had flown many missions he’ll never be able to talk about, missions that had been dangerous, missions he’d been lucky to just make it out of, let alone live to continue flying. None of them had him worrying the inside of his lip so badly he’d only realise he was doing it when his whole lip was swollen and sore, and he'd taken to fiddling once more with toothpicks just to stop himself from causing even more damage.

By the time they’ve been introduced to the mission instructor, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, and they’ve gotten an idea of exactly what they would be training for, Jake is at his worst, toothpick not exactly helping people soften to him, his constant barbs more pointed than he would generally be okay dishing out. Even Javy was keeping his distance, sitting in the row of chairs behind his closest colleague and longest friend, instead of in one of the two available spaces beside him.

Jake knows why too.

For once, it’s not about him, though with the way he’d been carrying on you wouldn’t know it.

Jake would never wish to lose any of his squadmates, let alone any of Dagger, most of them people who had come to know and who had put up with him, eventually even accept him. That was a feat worth protecting in and of itself as far as he’s concerned. But Jake had never found himself so fixated on the safety of one squadmate, nor with their grasp and awareness of the realities of their mission, and for the first time in his career feeling, Jake feels properly powerless to do anything but watch Rooster continue to sit on his perch, where he would almost certainly become target practise for a SAM.

The only thing Jake is able to do is push, and needle and either convince Rooster to get his shit together, or be harsh and direct enough in his criticism that even Maverick won’t be able to deny it.

Either way, the outcome is the same: an innocent kid doesn’t lose his father.

He knows that the likelihood of remaining close to Rosie or Goose in the aftermath of his behaviour is extremely low, and if he was acting out of anything except repressed fear, he might’ve chosen to go about this whole nonsense in a far more measured and reasonable manner. But Jake had never been a fan of measured responses, his need for control too much for him to do anything but the most. As the weeks go on and the mission begins to hang dark on the horizon, Jake decides that he could live with never seeing the Bradshaw’s again after all this. As far as Jake is concerned, if it meant that two people who meant more to him than members of his actual family wouldn’t end up burying their husband and father, then what other choice did he have?

Things start to shift and change slightly when he overhears Phoenix asking Rooster about his history with Maverick, and Jake realises exactly who they are to one another, or at least who they used to be to one another.

Something along the lines of Maverick more or less having been Rooster’s adoptive father up until he’d applied for the USNA, after which Rooster had cut Maverick from his life completely. Jake realises then that Maverick, Rooster’s apparent father figure throughout most of his life, had no idea about Rosie, which meant that he had no idea about Goose.

Jake considers breaking out the big guns, exploiting this clear vulnerability, hitting two birds with one stone as not only would Rooster be rightfully furious about his family being brought up and used against him, but he’d also have his little secret revealed, and have to deal with that fallout. It was cruel, and Jake isn’t ashamed to admit he considers it for several days, sitting on the idea, mulling it over, picking his exact angle, choosing the one that would hurt the most and cause the biggest emotional fissure, something even their superiors wouldn’t be able to let go as simple pre-mission tension, something that would end up with Rooster dismissed from this posting, and sent back home. Hell, Jake could even be dismissed for his part in it, but again, he’s not so worried about his own glory this time around.

He’s sitting in the ready room, still contemplating the nuclear option when his phone buzzes. He hadn’t scared Javy off yet today, so his friend glances over at the noise just as Jake unlocks his phone.

His heart drops at the message from you, joined by several photos, which is how he knows he can’t go through with his plan. Never had he received a text from you, especially one with updates on his favourite nephew, and wished he hadn’t. Javy snorts and makes an ‘aww’ sound, not bothering to hide the fact he’s spying on his friend’s screen.

“Man, that kid is going to be so disappointed when he grows up and realises that Uncle Jake is lame,” Javy jokes, pointing at the picture currently on screen, of little Goose in his prospective halloween costume, a flight suit you’ve clearly made for him, complete with sets of patches. In one picture the little replica insignias are identical to Roosters, in the other, they’re a copy of Jake’s own. Your message tells him that Goose was going to wear one out trick-or-treating and the other to a Halloween dress up party at the kids club he attended when you were working late at the hospital.

Jake knows Javy doesn't mean anything by it, he knows how severe his friend can be when he really wanted to needle, but his words hit him with the realisation that if he were to go through with this plan, to expose the existence of Rooster’s family and cause this possibly career stunting blow out, Goose would grow up and find out that his “Uncle Jake”, who he apparently put in the same tier as his own, admittedly pretty great, father, absolutely did not deserve any of his admiration or reverence.

Jake swallows thickly and shuts off his phone without replying. He’d probably call you later, anyhow. Javy frowns at him, but shrugs lightly and watches as Jake pushes up off the couch, moving towards the far wall, needing to just think for a minute. For the first time in weeks he feels enough of his deep-seated dread leave his system, at last letting him think somewhat normally, combined with a clarity that really doesn’t make him feel any better about his recent conduct, definitely making him feel worse about what he’d been planning to do.

He stares blankly at the photos on the wall in front of him and scans each image as he tallies up alternatives, some way to get through to Rooster, make him understand that the way he was flying now would only end badly, it could only end badly, as everyone else seemed to grasp, and struggle with. His eyes flicker over a few grainy faces and move on, before quickly flashing back, blinking in surprise at what he realises he’s looking at.

The surprise pulls him out of his thoughts, away from his tallying and doomsday planning, almost making him forget completely as he stares down at a familiar face that stares back.

“Yo, Coyote, take a look at this!” Jake hears himself call over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving the spot in front of him. Javy approaches casually, leaning down to get a look at the framed photo Jake is transfixed with, easily picking out their instructor, though thirty years younger.

“The man. The legend. There he is.” Javy says lightly, though there is genuine respect lacing his tone. Jake glances over at him and shakes his head.

“No, no, no. Next to him.” Jake says, waiting as Coyote moves slightly closer, his own frown deepening as he gets a good look. “Does he look familiar to you?” he prompts after a moment, before he hears Javy let out a surprised little huff.

“What have we here…” he asks rhetorically, lifting a finger to trace the list of names beneath, until he finds the one that matches.

A new plan begins forming in Jake’s head then, and he straightens up, mind whirling. Javy snorts again and looks back at Jake over his shoulder.

“You realise your little buddy was named after him?” He asks, gesturing to the immortalised image of Rooster’s father. Jake hums. 

He’d known Nick was named for Bradshaw’s father, and he knew that the man had died in an aviation accident when Bradley had been little, but he had never realised where ‘Goose’ as a nickname had come from. He’d just thought it was a play on his Bradshaw’s callsign and Rosie’s surname, Lamb. He hadn’t realised the significance behind it before, and it makes him feel worse..

All the information he’d picked up over the last few weeks suddenly begins to make sense, like he’d finally found the one clue on his mental conspiracy board that suddenly connects all the dots, revealing the bigger picture at last. Whether or not it was the correct image was another thing entirely, it wasn’t even important to Jake’s new plan. It didn’t matter if he was right, in fact it would be better if he was completely off base, in the end, the only thing that really mattered to this new method was that Jake’s underlying point was made clear. Jake knows that if Rooster was able to just get the hell off that damn perch of his, then he’d fly this mission better than maybe anyone else, and give Maverick a run for his money at the same time.

And if that didn’t work, then hopefully Maverick would realise that sending Rooster may as well be signing his death warrant.

Jake takes a long sip of his beer and lets out what might be the first truly relaxed breath he’s had in weeks. Leaning forward against the railing that circled the Hard Deck, Jake keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the five-year-old playing in the sand a few metres away.

“Don’t go too far now, alright buddy?” He calls, knowing that Goose wouldn’t stray on purpose, but also knowing that the boy had a habit of getting so wrapped up in his sweet little head that he’d lose all sense of surroundings.

“Okay, Uncle Jake!” Goose replies cheerfully, dropping to begin digging through the top layer of sand in search of seashells.

For several moments Jake simply basks in the ocean breeze, briefly glancing away from the toddler to scan the horizon, but quickly turns back to him again, far more interested in watching the way Goose sorts the shells he’d found into separate groups. In fact, Jake watches on so attentively that he becomes the one who loses track of what’s going on around him, jumping when you manage to sneak up beside him at the railing, clearly looking pleased with yourself at having caught him off guard.

“Y'all moved in now?” Jake asks, ignoring his brief lapse in chill and choosing instead to glance over at you, clinking your beer with his when you offer it out.

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’ in a way Jake would absolutely find infuriating if anyone but you were to do it. “Mav came around with Penny and Amelia yesterday, and we got it knocked out in a couple of hours.” You tell him, before your face turns more mischievous.

“Why, you weren’t planning on coming around under the guise of helping, just so you could mess with my husband, did you?” you ask teasingly, and Jake rolls his eyes.

“I don’t need to come around to do that. I have his number.” Jake says petulantly, though it reminds him that he hadn’t yet found a good time to actually settle things for good with Rooster. Jake may have saved his life, but he’s enough of a grown up to recognise that an actual apology might be necessary given the nature of the situation.

You laugh at that, and Jake feels an easy smile pull at his lips.

The two of you proceed to lapse into a comfortable silence then, both of you just watching as Goose flutters back and forth, occasionally moving back to the deck to place particular shells for safekeeping. You seem to wait for your son to be fully focused on his self-appointed task again before you speak.

“Rooster told me about your reprimand.” You say lightly, voice devoid of any emotion. Jake purses his lips and squints at the water ahead of him.

“Tattle-tale,” he mutters, before taking a large sip of his beer. You turn your body to face him then and cross your arms over your chest.

“You know, he told me that he wasn’t even really upset you brought up his dad…” you continue, and Jake turns his squint on you, finding your words a little hard to believe. “He told me he barely heard what you actually said, he was so convinced you were about to out him about Goose and I in front of Maverick… he said that was why he reacted the way he did.” Once again your voice is light on any clues as to what you might be thinking, and it makes Jake throw back the remainder of his beer before he speaks again.

“I thought about it. Figured with all things considered, Mav would never choose him if he knew about Goose. Probably would have worked, too.” He admits slowly, choosing his words carefully.

“And remind me again why that was plan a?” You ask dryly and with a healthy amount of ridicule directed towards him. 

Jake shrugs.

“I think you’re seriously overestimating the thought process that went into this, which for the record, was not a single one.” he replies truthfully, shaking his head.  “Could have gotten my ass DD’ed for pulling that shit.” Jake grumbles, both at his previous behaviour, and at how differently things would have gone if Maverick was the type of Commanding Officer who concerned himself at all with little things like direct insubordination.

You hum your agreement then, seemingly satisfied that he was aware of how stupid he’d been. Jake sighs heavily then, and runs a hand through his hair.

“My thoughts on Rooster’s capabilities as a pilot versus the way he actually flies aren’t exactly top secret.” Jake states, readying himself to explain to you what exactly had been so important to him that he’d wound up with an official reprimand over. “The way he was flying the sims wasn’t going to cut it, and frankly, he seemed more preoccupied with proving something to Maverick—” he cuts himself off at that, shaking his head again, and you don’t push him to finish.

Jake presses his lips together as he lets out a sigh, and leans forward on the railing again, eyes once more following the little boy who was quite happily playing by himself in the sand.

“I just thought that Goose deserved to grow up knowing his dad,” Jake confesses at last, feeling slight nerves bubbling in his belly at the frankness of his thoughts, but he can’t help himself from eventually glancing over at you in order to gauge your reaction as you consider what he’s said.

Your expression remains thoughtful, but otherwise unreadable, and for several more seconds the two of you stare at one another, until at last you shift your eyes away from him, and back to your son on the beach.

“I’m gonna suggest that next time, you should try giving communicating at a basic adult level a go first,” you say at last, your voice dripping with even more ridicule now, even more deserved this time. “And then I guess if that doesn’t work, you can move on to starting a fight in the middle of a debriefing with your Commanding Officer.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Jake tells you, his tone sarcastic purely out of habit, but he really does mean it.

A beat passes and it occurs to Jake that Rooster must not have told you any details about how the mission had ended up playing out, how despite Jake’s best intentions and worst behaviour, the thing that almost meant Rooster didn’t make it home to you and Goose, had been entirely out of his control, and that it was Jake’s actions that had meant Rooster would be able to return to your family after all was said and done, just like he’d been pushing to make happen from the start.

He blinks down at you, brought out of his thoughts when you bump into his side, nudging his arm with your elbow.

“Thank you, for not saying anything before he got the chance to tell Maverick himself… and for trying to look out for him.”

Jake nods solemnly, before he lifts his arm to wrap around your shoulder, giving you a brief squeeze as you both focus back on watching Goose again.

“For the record, it wasn’t him I was looking out for.” Jake cuts into the silence after a few minutes. You barely move to acknowledge his words, except for the roll of your eyes.

“If you keep ruining the moment, I’m going to tell Rooster that you complimented his abilities as a pilot.”

Jake glares down at you, but promptly clamps his mouth shut. To your credit, you don’t gloat about your victory, already focusing back on the apparent moment you were sharing, giving up all pretence of sourness when the sun begins peeking perfectly through the clouds, and Goose takes off running toward the two of you, a large collection of seashells gathered in his hands, shouting that he’d found one for you, following up right away by asking if you’ll put it on your desk at work. Jake takes that as his cue to release you, moving to instead swoop Goose up in his arms.

You watch as Jake carries your son back down to the sand, listening intently as he shows him each of the shells he’d found and chattering away about each of them as Jake asks. You smile a little wider when you sense Rooster stepping into place at your side, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You hum contently, and rest a hand against his chest.

“I think I’m willing to reconsider this whole ‘Uncle Jake’ topic.” Your husband tells you, earning an incredulous laugh from you.

“I’m sorry to ruin your illusion of control, but that ship sailed a while ago,” you chortle as Rooster grimaces and shoots you a look. You pat his chest sympathetically, and he covers your hand with his own. You both watch Jake and Goose for a few more peaceful moments, until your boy notices Rooster standing with you. “Daddy! Come play!” Goose calls out. Rooster grins widely as Jake begins talking loudly about how he isn’t brave enough to come out onto the sand. You watch as Rooster vaults the railing, and your heart grows soft as both aviators begin to give chase to Goose, with Rooster eventually gathering him up and holding him still for Jake to tickle.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 4: Rimming

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4357

Warnings: Afab!reader, rimming, handjob, the deeply flawed relationship between Albedo and his assistant

A/N: I'd actually wanted to keep these about the same length, but somehow they're just getting longer xcnvdjkjnv

⭐

“How is this?” 

“Good, I think.” 

Albedo sends you a slow, vaguely amused look over his bare shoulder. “You think? Are you not supposed to be the expert here?” 

You feel your cheeks start to become warm, that borderline playful smile shattering your closely guarded clinical facade more so than the words themselves. He was teasing you, yes, and you could deal with that. Probably. But the faint gleam of mischief in his sparkling spring eyes was another matter entirely. How were you possibly supposed to maintain professional impartiality when he looked at you like that? 

“Forgive me. I just, ah … I’ve never quite done this before.” 

“That’s alright. Then it will be the first time for both of us. We can figure it out together.”

His optimism on the matter should have been reassuring. In any other situation it likely would have been, but this … 

Slowly, you drag your gaze over his body, admiring both his perfect, creamy complexion with nary a single flaw or blemish in sight, and his attractive physique. His proud, perfectly composed posture doesn’t so much as waver even when he’s stark naked and presenting his backside to someone who was effectively a stranger. You’d known him for some time now but never in any meaningful way. The two of you would have been hard pressed to even consider yourselves friends, let alone whatever level of acquaintanceship was needed for this. Either way, you were coworkers at best. 

Somehow, it felt like you’d missed more than just a few steps in this process. 

But saying Albedo had taken a keen interest in the subject of human sexuality would have been something of an understatement. You really hadn’t expected as much when you’d first floated the idea by him, subtly making the suggestion one evening when you were tinkering around together in the small alchemy lab sequestered deep in the knights headquarters. You’d tried to tell yourself it was just meant as a joke — and had then tried to convince him of that as well when he’d sent you a long, unreadable look over the workbench. A number of frantic thoughts had run through your mind all at once, each more alarming than the last, but then, to your slack jawed surprise, he’d actually expressed a certain amount of curiosity on the subject. 

That was the very last thing you could have ever anticipated, and the following discussion leading into an impromptu hands on demonstration had come as an even greater shock. Really, you aren’t sure what you’d thought would happen considering how unhesitatingly he always seemed to throw himself into any new pursuit that came along until it soon lost its luster and shine, but you’d effectively backed yourself into a corner with this. 

Not only was he eager (in his own strange, offbeat kind of way) to learn more about the methods which people copulated with one another and why, but he also assumed you would be the one to carry out these experiments with him. Although you had been the one to bring it up, perhaps foolishly so, that didn’t necessarily mean you’d been volunteering your services. Not that you were complaining, exactly, but you still couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being in way over your head with this. 

Frankly, you still couldn’t quite seem to grasp that it was really even happening at all but, as they say; in for a mora, in for a pound. You’d already gone this far so there wasn’t any justifiable reason for you to stop now. 

Gathering your inner strength and steeling yourself, you shuffle across the floor of his captain's office to approach him from behind. He’d initially expressed some doubt about this particular activity after happening upon mention of it in some book — which book, you did not want to know — but he now seemed perfectly willing to humor it long enough to find out if it would net any results or not. You, on the other hand, were far too embarrassed about it to offer yourself up for the initial trial and had instead been delegated to the active role of principal investigator for the time being while he played test subject. 

You’d tried to tell yourself that this was fine. Surely being on the giving end wouldn’t be half as bad as on the receiving, but looking at him now … oh, you were so flustered you didn’t even even know where to start. 

“Is something the matter?” He prods after a long stretch of terse silence, well after it had become awkward and uncomfortable. 

“No, no,” You rush to say. “I’m just trying to figure out how to begin. I mean, usually there’s a buildup leading into something like this, right?” 

Noising a thoughtful sound, Albedo idly touches fingers to his chin in consideration. “I see what you mean. The literature I’ve read on this topic always had some kind of precursor beforehand to build tension and set the tone of the encounter. However, I think introducing anything else to the parameters of the experiment might skew the results. For example, if I were to kiss you right now that could spark a pleasure response that would carry over and interfere with our findings so it’s probably best if we stick to the task at hand.” 

Somehow listening to him talk about this from such a detached, purely scientific standpoint does absolutely nothing to put you at ease. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse, and your stomach fiercely cramps with the sinking feeling of dread that settles over you. “Understood. Then I’ll get started right away.” 

Glancing up at the dejected tone in your voice, he offers you another of those vaguely sly smiles that would seem to imply he found humor in this. “That’s not to say I have no interest in kissing you at all, though. Perhaps we can revisit that matter when we’re through here?” 

You duck your head, embarrassed all over again as you shuffle the last few steps to close the distance between you and him. “If that’s what you want, Captain Albedo.” 

Tentatively reaching out, you place your hands on his narrow waist with careful intention. He doesn’t react to the touch alone but he seldom does anyway. Usually it takes a bit of effort on your part to get any kind of physiological response out of him, or at least a more direct sort of stimulation than this, but he doesn’t show any signs of discomfort either. You also don’t see any of the anticipatory tension thrumming through his body that you otherwise would have expected in just about anybody else and, more for your benefit than his, you slide your palms down to cup his firm ass in your fingers. Taking your time with it, you gently massage the skin and knead into the muscle underneath, giving yourself one last chance to calm down before taking the plunge.

With a quiet sigh, Albedo relaxes against you almost imperceptibly so and you take that as your cue to proceed, slowly lowering yourself to kneel on the floor. On your knees, you grab two handfuls of his backside and squeeze, marveling at the way his fair skin reddens slightly where the pressure was applied. He was so beautiful it seemed to defy all logic and reason, and his attractiveness certainly made carrying out these experiments together a much easier task than it could have been with someone less to your liking. Momentarily forgetting how to breathe, you gently spread his cheeks apart to expose him to your voracious eyes, greedily drinking in the sight of his vulnerable and defenseless little hole. 

He’s all pink and smooth, the faintest hint of peach fuzz interrupting the otherwise unnatural perfection of his body. If you didn’t know any better you would almost think it was manufactured, how picture perfect and flawless he was. You even have the half delirious thought that perhaps he’d been made in a lab, painstakingly designed to be a gloriously sublime specimen in every way imaginable from his beautiful face right down to his evenly spaced and distributed toes. If you hadn’t been looking right at him, you never would have thought it was possible for someone like this to even exist in the first place.

“Ready?” You softly venture, figuring it couldn’t hurt to make absolutely certain he wanted to go through with this.  

“Yes, you may begin.”  

Well. That took care of that. 

Slowly inhaling, you settle your weight to ensure you wouldn’t lose balance and tip over, then lean in to dip your face between the pert cleft of his cheeks. Your tongue slips out and you drag the flat of it over that tight pucker, some amount of surprise washing over you when it twitches faintly at the contact. Albedo doesn’t react beyond that though, neither issuing any sounds that might indicate his thoughts nor any shifts in his posture to denote pleasure or dislike. It was the same as every other time you’d found yourself in these predicaments though, and your cunt gives a muted throb at the memory of that first threadbare moan he’d finally let out when you sank down on his cock in the alchemy lab. That felt like eons ago, whole lifetimes in the past, but in reality it had only been a few weeks. 

But that distant reminder is enough to spurn you on, evidently, and you feel an odd spark of determination light up within you as you lean into the task. You wanted to hear him sigh and huff in pleasure again. No matter how fleeting or quiet they were, the sounds he did make were unlike anything you’d ever heard before. Intoxicating the way fine aged wine is. 

So you lap at his hole, swirling your tongue around the outer rim until you feel it soften and puff up under the ministrations of your mouth. You attack the center then, just barely dipping into the tight heat of his body and then pulling back out to encourage it to open up for you more. Unexpectedly, Albedo pulls in a quiet breath at that, so you do it again, worming your tongue a little deeper this time. 

“That’s … a somewhat odd feeling.” He murmurs, not quite surprised but — curious. Like he’s actually struck on something that was of interest to him and he was fascinated by it. Archons help you, what have you gotten yourself into? 

Pulling back for a much needed pause, you take a moment to study him again. The faintly raised rim of his hole gives another brief twitch, no doubt at the rush of cool air coming in to replace the warmth of your mouth, and you quickly swallow down your last remaining nerves. Hands sliding down to grip the backs of his thighs, you lean in and flick your tongue over the puffy muscle, teasing over the center of it with alternating fast and slow kitten licks. You try to get a feel for what he might respond to, try to work through the problem at hand, but he doesn’t give much away at all even when you seal your lips around the pucker and suck at him. It was like you were effectively doing this blind, and the difficulty of breathing with your face smothered in his ass wasn’t exactly helping you think straight either. 

That is, until, his hips give the briefest little jerk at something you’ve done, and you moan into his skin when he subtly rears back against you. 

“I see,” He seems to marvel, apparently still more focused on evaluating the results than actually enjoying the feeling itself. “It’s not necessarily pleasurable as a stand-alone but the nerve stimulation in the target area does encourage responses elsewhere. I also have reason to surmise that a large factor of the appeal has to do with the mental state of the recipient more than anything else.” 

Leaning back with a wet, faltering gasp, you have to take a moment to catch your breath. “What do you mean?” You finally manage to croak.

“Hm? Oh, I just mean that this is a rather demeaning act, isn’t it? Someone doing such of their own volition — outside of experimental parameters, mind you — would probably denote a great deal of self deprecation and perhaps even fatalistic submission to the recipient's power over them. Is it possibly just a simple method of asserting dominance?” 

He issues a faint hum into the room, clearly getting lost in his own thoughts, and you ponder over his hypothesis for a moment before carefully choosing your next words. “I think that could be part of it. Maybe even a big part of it for most people who engage in … this. But I don’t believe it’s out of the question that some might actually enjoy it.”

A stretch of quiet and then, “Do you like it?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” You stammer, glad he can’t see the fluster on your face. “But it’s not terrible either. Depending on the dynamic between participating parties, it’s very possible to simply get off on making your partner feel good.” You hesitate before adding, much more quietly, “I’d say that’s about where I fall in this.” 

Shifting his weight, Albedo twists around to look back at you and the bright glint of fascination in his eyes quickly makes you regret having said anything at all. You were just further humiliating yourself every time you opened your mouth it seemed. 

“It’s not just physical response that drives one’s sexual impulses, then. The preoccupation with your partner's enjoyment plays a role as well.” He seems to mull that over for a long beat, and you can practically see the gears grinding away in his head, trying to work out the full implication of what the logical conclusion to this new information would be. You aren’t sure what he’s going to come back at you with when he eventually draws a deliberate breath, but it’s certainly not, “And if I were to tell you I was feeling good?”

You blink up at him owlishly. “I’d be happy, of course. But …” 

“But? Please, you can speak freely here.”

That was certainly easy for him to say. 

“Well — being told something like that isn’t exactly bad or anything, but I’d be even happier if it was apparent. Rather than being told you feel good, it’s nice to see it. Remember when I climbed on top of you down in the lab … w - well, you made this noise. This breathy little groan that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since, if you want the truth. Knowing I made you feel good based on the sounds you made is what made me feel good too. Or part of it, at least.” 

Slowly, his brows lift with understanding. “Ah, so that is what you were referring to. Subconscious reactions instead of deliberate acknowledgments or praise. I see.” 

Your heart gives a lurch at that, and you rush to amend yourself. “Oh, that’s not quite - -“ 

“Let’s resume the experiment. I won’t intentionally withhold my reactions from you this time, and I hope you continue to do the same. I'm quite curious to see if it changes the results when I’m freely expressing them or if they stay the same.” 

Well, you couldn’t exactly argue with that, now could you? 

Especially not when he decisively turns back around, indicating that the decision has already been made. 

You take a moment to draw a deep, steadying breath to ground yourself and then lean forward, bracing your palms on the backs of his thighs again. But this time you don’t immediately put your mouth to work, and instead give him a brief nudge. “Bend forward and brace your hands on the arms of the chair. That should make this a little easier for both of us.” Since he was so damn determined to see this through to the end. 

Evidently recognizing the wisdom in that call, Albedo does as you’d requested with a quiet hum of acknowledgment, and you suddenly have to fight very hard to keep the intense flush that tries to claim your cheeks at bay. Not only does this position present his ass on perfect display, but you’re also now afforded a shamefully tantalizing glimpse of his smooth taint and the fleshy hang of his testes, and you can also see his cock where it dangles between his legs. To your staggering surprise, he’s stiff and hard, the glans flushed a pretty shade of pink where it’s peeking through the slit of his foreskin. That must have been what he’d meant about ‘reactions in other areas’ earlier. 

“Is this agreeable?” 

You swallow. Hard. “Spread your legs further apart.” 

He complies once more, and you feel undeniably dizzy at the sight of him spread open like this. His perfection had never been more apparent than in that moment when you could see all of him without interruption, no clothes or furniture in the way to obstruct your view. It was like looking at a painting come to life, every inch of him so picture perfect it was uncanny. Disconcerting, in a way. 

Shrugging off that feeling, you go up on your knees again and shuffle close, leaning into him to kiss at the swell of one cheek. You were starting to get an idea, formulating a plan in the back of your mind that you were sure would net the desired results you suspected he was secretly hoping for. While it was true he wasn’t half as expressive or easy to rile up as most men, that didn’t mean he was totally immune to having his body stimulated. The cock subtly bobbing between his thighs was proof enough of that. You could see how this was going to end now, and you had a feeling he would be quite pleased with the results this time. 

Gradually pecking your way over the swell of his pert ass, you finally reach Albedo’s cute, puckered little hole again and you seal your mouth against him, applying a faint amount of suction. You feel him twitch under you, hesitate to do it, and then let out the softest, barely there groan you’d ever heard. So he did feel something from that. Good. 

It had been a bit uncertain as far as moans go, yes, but you knew he wasn’t used to freely expressing himself in such a way and it was just nice to know you were doing something right. Tongue snaking out, you flick it over the raised up muscle for a long moment until he eventually twitches, gasping quietly at the sensation. You can’t help but feel undeniably pleased as you work the tip of your tongue into the center of his hole next and press in, slowly breaching the defenses of his body. He lets out a breathy, almost whiny sound when your face presses flush against the upturned curve of his ass, as far as you can reach, and that’s when you bring your hand up. 

Taking hold of his cock, you give it a tight, savory squeeze and start to tug at it. Albedo offers up a tiny little start and looses the most surprised sound you’ve ever heard him make, higher in pitch than usual and faltering. Evidently he hadn’t expected you to attack him from both sides like this … and, evidently, you hadn’t been prepared for your plan to work so well, because that noise catches you off guard and your pussy clamps down hard in response. Groaning into him, you have to pause a moment and find your bearings again before it bowls you right over, and it still somehow nearly succeeds. It was even more tantalizing than that huffy moan you’d heard him make down in the lab. It was like something divine, straight from the mouths of the gods themselves. 

Surely you weren’t currently eating out one of the sevens’ creations … were you? 

“I thought we agreed on — nghh! Staying on task today.” He murmurs, but makes no move at all to stop you. Alright, so he hadn’t accounted for the variable of a handjob in his calculations or hypotheses for this experiment, and how could he have? Clearly these were all unknown factors to him and he was relying on you more than anything else to set his expectations for what sort of results would come of it. But that wasn’t your fault. He’d never asked you directly or outright. 

That thought sparks an almost mean, petty light within you, and you pull on his cock a little harder in response. Wriggle your tongue a little faster. You could feel the muscles of his entrance gradually slackening around the intrusion, becoming increasingly soft and pliant, and you find that you can move around a bit more freely as it does. Now that he’s not squeezing you so tight, you start bobbing your head back and forth to tongue fuck his hole, slowly pulling all the way out and then pushing right back in. 

Albedo’s hips give a sensitive jerk at seemingly random intervals, his breathing a bit labored now, but you soon pick up on the pattern. If you time it just right and shove your tongue into him at the same moment your palm passes over his glans, rubbing the foreskin over that sensitive tip, it makes him react. You feel devious with this knowledge, quickly adjusting your rhythm to match this newfound information, and the results are glorious. 

You think he might actually collapse into a boneless heap right then and there when his knees seem to buckle, threatening to give out under him, but he manages to steady himself with the help of the chair. Leaning heavily into it, he lets out a flustered string of hot, breathy whimpers and groans that seem to steadily build into something a bit more dire, a bit more urgent, and you have to force yourself to maintain the pace you’ve set when your jaw starts to ache. 

He hadn’t exactly been wrong to call this demeaning. If it had been anyone else other than the Chief Alchemist himself you certainly never would have entertained the thought. But because it’s Albedo you put your all into it, determined to show him the results he wanted, and maybe even earn something more meaningful than the title of research assistant in the process. Perhaps something a bit more personal. Intimate. 

“Oh, dear - -!” Softly wheezing, he gives his narrow hips a stuttering thrust that fucks his cock down into your hand. He twitches harshly at the sensation, a distant, uncharacteristically vulnerable whine rising in the back of his throat as he repeats the motion at a staggeringly slow speed. It’s like he can’t seem to decide which way he wants to thrust, forward or back, and you make the decision for him by simply adjusting your rhythm to match his. 

The way you move together becomes seamless, perfectly timed to compliment one another and feed off the kinetic energy between you two. When he rears back on your tongue you’re already there, shoving it as far up his ass as it will reach while tugging down on his cock at the same time. When he stutteringly thrusts out, you drag your hand straight down to the base to peel back the foreskin and expose the glans in the same motion. Like this, it doesn’t take long for his sounds of stuttering pleasure to climb higher and higher, until he finally lets out a strangled, heaving grunt. 

Albedo cums, just like that; rocking between your mouth and your hand. You can’t quite tell where you’ve got his cock pointed like this, unsure if he was ejaculating all over the seat of the chair or the floor, but you don’t stop milking him until he finally issues a vaguely frazzled sound into the room. Only then do you disengage from him, pulling off his ass with a much needed gasp of fresh air. 

You’re a little dizzy after that. A bit overwhelmed by what had happened, how lost in the pleasure he’d allowed himself to become. But most of all you were insanely wet between the legs and you whimper softly as you settle back to sit on your butt, trying desperately to collect yourself. You’d thought that first time in the lab had been like a horny dream come true but this … it felt like you were losing your mind. 

“My theory was correct.” You croak once you’ve finally managed to catch your breath. “It’s not only possible for the active participant to get off on it without any power dynamics being involved … but it’s also not out of the question for the roles to be reversed either.” 

Albedo seems like he still hasn’t quite recovered yet, quietly panting where he’s still leaning over the chair, but that does manage to catch his attention and bring his head up. “What do you mean?” 

You laugh, breathless and thin. “I turned the tables. Even though you were on the receiving end and arguably in control, I took that power away from you. There at the end you were completely at my mercy, weren’t you?” Giving your head a quick shake, you reach up to wipe some of the half dried spit off your chin. Archons, you couldn’t wait to freshen up. “Something like that can be used to assert dominance, but it’s not a guarantee. I’d say the end result depends entirely on the individuals involved.”

And you feel pretty damn proud of that up until he slowly straightens and turns, pinning you with an enigmatic but no less sly look, and your heart promptly skips a bit. If you didn’t know any better you’d almost think he was smirking at you. 

He wasn’t actually smirking at you, was he? 

“Why don’t we test that theory then, my invaluable assistant? I wonder how much you’ll be at my mercy if I do the same to you.”

⭐

Crossposted here

[liketwoswansinbalance]

“Salt & Storybook” Analysis and Trivia

@anobody277642 If you’re interested, I will take your reblog as an invitation to pinpoint some of the other things that went into the whump fic. Sorry in advance about the length. You can disregard this if you want.

If anyone has any questions or would like clarification, don’t hesitate to ask!

⸻

First though:

1. You were absolutely correct about Rafal’s Bird Motif! And yes, there are a few other instances wherein it appears. (I will list and explain the remaining ones later.)

(And I’ll go through everything in a vaguely chronological order after I respond to your points, because, honestly, that’s the easiest way for me to keep track.)

2. You are indeed correct about the bookcase! It was a direct callback to that TLEA moment.

3. Yes, that was intentional. I think I paraphrased a line that occurs around the point of Rafal’s return to the School in Rise, while Rhian’s in exile.

4. Interesting! I will take you at your word on this one since I’ve forgotten how exactly that happened specifically. I thought it happened at the end of AWWP, but Tedros frequently gallivants around shirtless, so I just… don’t know. I’m sure you’re right nonetheless.

5. That section was not intended to evoke the Black Swan gold, but it could. Actually, I had slightly different thoughts around it.

I just invented these hummingbirds because I thought they'd fit and they worked in line with the bird motif. Also, their being "vampiric" parallels Vulcan himself—matching types of villainy and all.

Plus, I had been thinking of the Capitol's biochemical warfare in the Hunger Games, with their Mutts. This could be a less technologically-advanced form of that, in the world of the Endless Woods.

Besides, Akgul was canonically a prosperous kingdom and did mine during the day only to carouse all night, which I think does work with this concept starting up in the first place, with these birds as their "watchmen,” to safeguard all that wealth required to maintain their lifestyles.

⸻

Additional things of note:

1. Foreshadowing of the literal salt that appears later:

“The floor crunched underfoot with every step he took, a mosaic of inedible salt and pepper,”

2. The excerpt of the Vulcan song from Rise, I decided to include:

It exemplifies Rafal’s whimsy and mockery as character traits I sometimes forget about. I do have more to say about this, but instead, it will go into a future post since it would divert too far from this.

3. The shifting frequency at which Rafal drinks and how I tried to narrow the span of time/reduce the number of words between every time he interacts with his wineglass:

Essentially, I wanted to increase the frequency of Rafal reaching for his drink or sipping it and decrease the proximity of those lines in the narration itself to do so, so it would happen more and more often, narrowing the focus as an effect. That way, it’d be as if he’s losing control in the most minor of ways to start us off, down his decline into misery.

The whole decision to try to contextualize and justify the whump in the first place was kind of an interesting phase as well since it seemed to require perhaps more actual thought and reasoning than the pure action sequence sections did? I tried to integrate the tower’s design features into the setting and incorporate nearly every one of Vulcan’s named objects, so overall I’d be accurate to canon, while attempting to sound novel in my slightly altered descriptions of them.

4. This probably unobtrusive line:

“Here, he’d remain, ’til the end of time.”

This thought is stated positively here, yet it is given a negative spin much later, and is turned on its head (around the part about the bandages and musings about living an immortal life).

5. When Rafal burns Vulcan’s things in a pyre:

Rafal burns something; Rafal gets burnt himself—it’s a really loose line of cause and effect, and a close equivalency. I wanted it to seem like it was "an eye for an eye" situation in some sense.

6. Possibly symbolic foreshadowing?:

“the deformed periscope Rafal had knocked the lenses out of,”

This was unintentional, but I realized that this line could be read as Rafal losing his physical sight later, temporarily, and also losing his rational judgment (or “foresight,”) while it's impaired by his drinking. I mean, he does it to himself. It’s not anyone else’s fault.

7. I wanted the thermal imagery I deployed to parallel the state of the plot:

“The rising heat was hellish.”

Like: rising heat? Rising stakes. It’s the start to all the rest of the Hell references since what he goes through is obviously hellish in its own right.

8. Overall, how unreliable Rafal’s narration is:

“Then he set to work, freeing the storybooks.”

Yeah right. He’s an oppressor if anything. Again, true enough yet horrendously biased, acting as if he's the savior, which, that’s fair. He sort of was for a short run in Rise. But still. It's another instance of: look how full of himself this man truly is.

Another such instance of his own biases:

“charting such a course for the students once again under his eminent tutelage.”

And then, there’s several other instances of unreliability in which he either believes he’s shouldering all the responsibility, or in which he devalues Rhian directly and/or makes false statements about Rhian.

The truth is, Rafal won't let anyone else clean up the literal and plot-level messes. He thinks everyone else is incapable, when they're truly not. Except, he's rather earned the right to think that way, given the catastrophes he's had to deal with in the past, only to unfortunately be proven right by his false belief, time and time again, effectively reinforcing it—all due to horrific happenstance. Thus, from a more sympathetic angle, I don't 100% blame him for thinking that way. The problem is: he’s just handicapping himself doing it all solo.

9. These lines and the irony:

“He wasn’t Rhian’s personal manservant. What a degrading role that would be.”

Is he not though? Truly? And yet, Rhian implicitly expected Rafal to clean up for him later on. Well, I’d like to think Rafal’s just in denial about his “role.”

10. Parallel sentence structure:

“He and he alone would restore the storybooks to their former, casual glory in their places of honor, just as the brothers themselves had been restored by the Pen.”

I suppose you could say this relates to the Meleager reference (coming up soon, wait a bit) about lives tied to the storybooks. Thus, the storybooks and the brothers have the same fates. Both fall. Some from the shelves. And those two from power, from the Storian's grace.

11. Reference to how Rafal did this once before in Rise:

“Naturally, Rafal stacked all of Evil’s tales at the top of the tower’s shelves, for his own reference.”

12. A double meaning:

“That batty substitute had no place in his School.”

13. This parallels Rhian's small cut later:

“his pale hand was dotted with pinpricks of blood.”

14. In my opinion? This bit is massively ironic (or that was my intention, at least):

“Rafal tended to cast off pain with ease, like it was just another one of his overcoats.”

15. Could be interpreted as an appearance of the bird motif:

“In a glaring, grandiose script, the tale’s cover read: THE UGLY DUCKLING.”

But actually, it's simply a reference to Vulcan calling Rhian "duckling," which I assumed would and could enrage Rafal.

16. More of Rafal’s bird motif:

“as if he were plucking feathers from a wild fowl to be cooked”

17. This next one, which you pointed out, does a few other things, too:

“It caught on the fireplace’s grate, angled like a broken bird.”

It’s not only the bird motif but foreshadowing. Rafal himself becomes the “broken bird,” of course.

To some extent, what he does to the storybook happens to him. Again, it’s the fairy-tale element of karmic equivalencies, of deeds being paid back or paid forth to the next in a sequence (or there’s Newton’s third law). I just felt like it could be a law of their world or of classic fairy tales as a whole. The balance.

Also, this may be a stretch—but you could view the storybook as functioning like a sinister talisman of a certain kind. It being tossed into the fire right before Rafal’s torture began could be read as similar to Meleager's life being tied to a piece of wood, in classical mythology. He died when it was burnt.

In Rafal's case here, the burning storybook could represent how he's brought punishment onto himself, marking himself as not wholly a victim but as a deeply flawed vandal.

And, fun fact: in the myth, when Meleager's prophesied death came true, his sisters were turned into guineafowl. So, more birds!

18. The Storian’s pov leaking through, taking over the narrative momentarily, at various times, just as it overpowers Rafal:

“The Pen’s tip brightened to a blinding, radiant, white pinprick, as if it were readying itself to defend its tales from the scourge of Evil it had allowed to take up residence in its tower.”

This also serves as one of the demon references, even if it’s indirect. We know Rafal calls the Pen “the little devil,” but what if that sentiment were mutual? Could it be applied in the other direction? Like: that demon! That monster of the School Master! All he does is wreak havoc!

19. Rafal is light-averse and thus, “dark:”

“Rafal squinted at the light.”

Yes, this is only justified situationally in the fic, by the sheer brightness of the Storian in that one moment. I’m fairly sure it’s not actual canon that he avoids bright lights, but it could explain why Evil’s castle was dimly lit, and that could serve as a counterpoint to his typically being insensitive toward most stimuli, however implicit it may be. (Maybe, I’m just projecting because I avoid bright lights under certain circumstances, haha.)

In fact, this was not intentionally set up in this way for the sake of the fic, but I figured it would fit my case to point it out now. The same thing happens later with Rhian’s gold light anyway.

20. Bird motif again:

“The storybook’s binding rocketed out from its resting place, where it had nested in the grate, flying at him like a missile, sizzling through the air, like a shot bird with its flaming wingspan spread, its front and back covers open, its spine cracked.”

21. A distorted view of himself:

“Yet first, Rafal strained his neck and examined his distorted, many-eyed reflections in the shards beneath him,”

For all the eyes present, he truly lacked the foresight that could’ve saved him here. And, his self-image changed, especially after the Rise morality-reversal plot twist and his supposed “Goodness.” So, this is a lead-up to that since that event hasn’t happened yet, considering where I would hypothetically insert this fic into the duology’s timeline.

The reflections could also be read as an indirect reference to the mythological figure Argus Panoptes or to the structure of a panopticon in a prison.

Like: Oh, you live in a tower cell? Isn't that basically a form of imprisonment, aside from the imprisonment of an eternal life?

For reference, here is a definition of “panopticon” from the internet:

“The concept is to allow all prisoners of an institution to be observed by a single corrections officer, without the inmates knowing whether or not they are being watched.”

This would imply the Storian is the brothers' prison warden. And, of course, Rafal didn’t know he was being watched earlier, by the Pen.

22. Evil thorn motif:

“thin rivulets of blood trickling down his neck, criss-crossing in a fine, thorny latticework, ultimately staining his starched, white shirt collar.”

This motif is just common imagery in the series, and I wanted to imitate it here, without the use of literal thorns.

23. Signaling Rafal’s personality through a kind of visual shorthand:

“he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, the one, restrictive one that always pressed against the base of his throat, so he could breathe properly and catch his breath.”

He's often so stiff and buttoned-up in demeanor, so I wanted to make that literal.

24. Every time a thought like this crosses his mind:

“He’d served the absurd, seemingly arbitrary punishment the Pen had dealt him and it was now well over with.”

Every time he thinks it's all over, it's actually the start of a new wave of pain. For the dramatic irony, I just wanted him to be wrong, haha. “Arbitrary” is also incorrect; he’s just not self-aware enough to see everything for himself.

25. Light and dark imagery:

“As it neared, the bookcase grew larger and larger in Rafal’s sightline, rushing forward rapidly, encroaching on him, almost eclipsing him.”

It could connect to Rhian’s light later, the moment Rafal was discovered in the dark.

26. Bird motif:

“his vision dimmed, turning to a feathery blur.”

27. The “suffocating weight of history” fits the Nevers themselves in general, past their not-yet-existent 200-year losing streak. Thus, this could be considered foreshadowing on a larger scale.

28. The final bird motif:

“The structure of the shelf collapsed further, the more he struggled beneath it, like a snare closing in on a bird, threatening to cut off its circulation—”

And this one is specific. It could be considered my very niche reference to the “springes to catch woodcocks" moment in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Huzzah!

29. The Milton reference:

“His students would dance over his grave—dancing in the chequer’d shade… come forth to play, on a sunshine holiday—how’d that line go? And which tale was it from?”

As I was thinking about this line while writing, I realized I had made a mistake, and yet, the mistake actually served to further the story.

First, John Milton was a poet from the 17th century and the most recently dated tales in the world of SGE are from the early 1900s (Peter Pan), meaning, Milton’s body of work could plausibly exist in the Endless Woods, depending on how loose the Woods’ parameters of what a “fairy tale” could cover are.

Here’s the catch though:

As a writer, Milton was hyper-literary, and I’m not sure if he ever did write for children, seeing as there were many fairy tales that were eventually sanitized and assigned morals for children’s consumption. (Back in the day, fairy tales were once considered more low-brow literature, being as scandalous and riveting as they were, like their time period’s “thriller films” or “commercial/genre fiction,” even if a lot of them were told through oral storytelling that could be modified when there were children in the audience.)

Moving on, Milton references classical mythology a lot in his work, which is, in a way, a close relative of fairy tales, or at the very least, part of humanity’s collective folklore. Therefore, could Milton's work exist in the Endless Woods? Quite possibly.

Ok, this part could be controversial, but Rafal literally works in academia, so I think he’d be familiar with some poets. Then, to elaborate on his confusion: he conflates two, entirely different poems while drunk.

And, that line, “[...] dancing in the chequer’d shade [...,]” from the poem “L’ Allegro” stuck with me. Something about it, the imagery probably, just made it take root in my head, so I had Rafal make the same mistake I had momentarily made, attributing that line to the other, second poem, the epic “Paradise Lost,” that recalls the “tale” of Satan's fall.

Here's an excerpt from “L’ Allegro”:

“When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth, and many a maid, Dancing in the chequer'd shade; And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holiday, Till the live-long daylight fail;”

30. The recurring demon, “heathen,” or “monster” in the dark comparisons and more of the Storian’s pov dominating for a second:

“Wrapped in a delirium, he thought of the sprawling tale of Satan’s fall. Demon, chastened and exiled. Hell. What had he gotten himself into? Hell.”

“That was the moment the Storian chose to attack with a new vengeance, redoubling its efforts against Evil incarnate.”

31. The same material the plates in TLEA were made of, which Sophie commented on—a call forward in time (since I can’t call it “foreshadowing” in any meaningful way):

“His ears rang with the strident sounds of shattering bone china”

So, I assumed the brothers would have those plates now since why not?

32. The lack of an apology to Rhian:

“But could apologizing be any worse than where he lay now? Perhaps, he should.”

Rafal doesn't apologize later, mainly because I realized his feeling any kind of remorse would possibly be a step too far and too sympathetic. He can't possibly be that Good, at least not at this point in time?

Also, I wanted the thrill of a potential set-up, like a red herring, only to subvert it in the end. Thus, Rhian gets no apology whatsoever and Rafal mistreats him in return with his harsh, cutting words—just after he was mistreated by the Pen! Ergo, there's an underlying cycle of abuse going on here, like they’re playing pass the parcel (pain).

33. Betrayal:

“In that instant, his vision whirled, reddening, and his body betrayed him, surrendering to the Pen as he blacked out.”

I specifically felt like I just had to use the word "betray" because it fit the recurrent "everyone is a traitor" theme in Rise. Rafal constantly and always betrays and gets betrayed, so why not have it happen on the self level?

34. Another TLEA reference:

“New, youthful skin was already beginning to pave over his cuts,”

This was a call forward to when Excalibur cleaved through his skull, except it’s a different area of his body healing.

35. TLEA zombie/necromancer reference:

“A copious number of bandages dangled from his outstretched arms as he shuffled back into the main chamber of the tower like one of the undead.”

36. Embalming and Sherlock Holmes references:

“At last, when he was partly wrapped up, he resembled a dehydrated corpse that would be preserved for the rest of time, forever bound to his duties, like one of the undead, who hadn’t the mind to know when to let go, tugged along by the colorless skein of an immortal life.”

Here, I riffed at mummification and the general concept of achieving an eternal life of the soul by preserving the corporeal body, and that all marginally related to the concept of immortality in the flesh, not just an immortal soul.

And here is a probably semi-famous Sir Arthur Conan Doyle quotation I drew from:

“There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it.”

In truth, I haven't read much of Doyle’s work at all, yet I knew enough to twist this to fit my purposes of alluding to misery, immortality, and the banality of life, of living, of acting for nothing when everything is futile, no matter what you do in a world governed by predestination.

37. The omnipresent thematic idea of literal darkness = hopelessness and misery and Rafal’s aversion to light again:

“He didn’t bother to light a candle.”

This same idea would also apply to the “moonless night” Rhian observes later.

38. Situational/dramatic irony:

“His brother was often a spoilsport and Rhian wouldn’t have been surprised if Rafal had tossed their last bottle.”

Rhian ends up with many subverted expectations. I may’ve exaggerated it a lot, in retrospect. Yet, these expectations demonstrate how the twins aren’t actually in sync, despite being magically-inclined twins.

39. Rhian counting his chickens before they’ve hatched (not technically the bird motif though):

“Indeed, maybe the Pen really was on his side, and Rhian could check that item off his list now.”

40. A very slight nod to Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz (a “fairy tale” in the SGE world iirc):

“the stairwell was coated in dust, like it had been beset by a cyclone of some kind.”

41. Book one reference:

“Now, it wasn’t unlike the Nevers themselves to bathe in dust,”

I think Agatha lied and claimed she took dust baths, when Tedros accused her of being a witch.

42. Biblical reference/Rhian-as-God imagery:

“Rhian lit his fingerglow. It burned with warm, pure, golden light, gilding the stones around him. He would vanquish any threat that lay ahead of him.”

“a scene of total carnage flashed into existence.”

I’d like to think that this particular diction harkens back to God creating the world, like this:

"And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, and it was good; and God divided the light from the darkness."

Also, later, Rhian is backlit in the doorway and Rafal is blinded.

These bits happened sort of serendipitously while I was writing, when I realized I had a clear set-up to use with Rhian’s light, in contrast to Rafal's "heathen"/dark “monster.”

43. The curtains and Rhian’s wrong-headed assumption:

“the presumably monster-clawed, blood-encrusted, silver curtains”

I imagined that Rhian, as well as Rafal, would’ve become more paranoid about intruders after the Vulcan incident, so that’s why he jumps to the worst possible (conceivable) conclusion (aside from the inconceivable: Rafal literally being the torture victim).

But, all this goes back to Rafal, within his world’s context, being a skeptic, an “atheist,” or a disbelieving "heathen" of some kind, especially because Rhian was always more faithful with his comparatively more unquestioning belief in the Pen.

44. Rhian’s (unconscious) word choice:

“in the confines of his own home.”

Clearly, “home” and “confines” are in conflict, and besides, Rhian is confined to the outer limits of his role as a School Master, to limited human contact, relationships, and possibly, geographical areas. We could assume that both brothers were sort of supposed to remain at the School. Forever.

45. Rhian’s assumptive dialogue:

“Where’s our intruder then? Have you burnt up the corpse?”

Ideally, Rhian's first assumption was intended to characterize both brothers at the same time. I, personally, thought it was a little funny, and ironic that in Rhian’s mind, the blood could never be Rafal’s.

46. The ice:

“Ice. Bring me ice.”

My hope was that this line came across as blisteringly cold, so the ice could work a dual purpose in the story.

Rafal ices Rhian out, symbolically and literally, by not telling him a thing. He leaves Rhian in the dark about what went on while he was gone. And, by ordering him away, to get the actual ice, Rafal literally sends Rhian away.

47. “The Evil School Master” epithet:

“Now,” the Evil School Master cut out caustically. “And not a word about the Pen favoring Good.”

Using “the Evil School Master” reduced the psychic distance between Rhian’s pov and his brother. I felt as if it were a better decision than calling Rafal “Rafal” during that particular moment since he is leaning more into his Storian-given role as opposed to being his more human self.

Rhian may not be as close to Rafal anymore, with this one-day time gap in his knowledge, and I wanted to represent that state in some way, hence the use of the epithet.

Additionally, it’s also the Evil School Master, who, as an authority over his students, reinforces and perpetuates that very same cycle of violence, when he tortures them in Rise. And, considering that this fic slots into a hypothetical space in the canon timeline prior to the Doom Room’s construction, we could say that this torture event theoretically could’ve made him worse. It could’ve led him to inflicting more pain back onto his Never students.

This line is probably one of my favorites, partly because I had the idea to use the verb “cut out,” seeing as Rafal was cut up and figuratively cuts Rhian back. It wouldn’t only be the students as his victims. He dealt back the pain he received to Rhian.

48. Not-Fun Fact: A long time ago, several days or weeks after I had the initial concept for this fic, I somehow walked into and cut my shin on a sharp, metal chair edge. And the interesting thing I learned from that encounter is that certain things can cut through fabric more easily than you’d think.

49. Last line:

“Rafal hadn’t learnt his lesson and never would.”

I wanted to try to go for maximum impact with the last line, so this line played with the idea of: is Rafal more subdued or not by the end of it all? And the answer had to be “no,” which is why I hope it read as ominous or heavy.

I'd like to think nothing of him would change. He’d carry himself with the same defiant, unbreakable spirit as always (probably).

By my interpretation, the actual change in him would be that he leans into being a slightly more extreme version of himself, that he’s more paranoid. Or, at least, that’s how he’s supposed to have changed, over the course of this story.

My second intention with the last line was to allude to future Evil Rhian, worsened by Rafal’s verbal mistreatment of him. So again, we have the theme of Rafal dooming himself!

50. Absurdism and Kurt Vonnegut:

I just learned that apparently this fic could possibly fall under the category of absurdist fiction (because immortality suddenly becomes slightly undesirable to Rafal, unlike in canon):

“Absurdist fiction is often used interchangeably with ‘absurdism.’ What is absurdism? It is a style of writing that calls existential concepts (such as “truth” or “value”) into question. It portrays the experiences of characters in situations who cannot find purpose or meaning in their lives or actions.

Absurdist fiction writing leans into unconventional imagery, plot structures, and formats to convey meaning. It is a book genre defined by pervasive themes of nihilism, existentialism, and purposelessness.

While absurdism aims to derive purpose from a seemingly pointless or meaningless event, this doesn't mean the event is an inconsequential one—in fact, most absurdist fiction is about traumatic experiences.

[...] Traditional storytelling uses systems like setup and payoff, playing on audience expectation and tailoring reality to make a satisfying narrative. But life isn’t like that. Trauma isn’t like that. And neither is absurdist fiction.”

I had tried using an online writing style analyzer on the completed fic, and I got Kurt Vonnegut as a result. I had never read his work, so when I started to do some research about it, I stumbled onto the topic of absurdism, which was apparently a decent match by sheer coincidence.

Here are two sources on absurdism, style, and verbiage:

https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/slaughter/style/

[ryuichirou]

first of all, i love your works, i recently followed you for your azuide artwork then i saw the other ones, they're all gorgeous but i have a question about your sultan au. does jamil have any romantic feelings for kalim?

+

Anonymous asked:

Sultan AU Jamil is so good. Like, this might be strange but I think he’s hilarious. You just know his “Kalim you Fool!” Is going to bite him in the butt. The man is probably already sort of in love with Kalim, and he’s just DEEP in denial. the denial is so deep he’d justify to himself sleeping with Kalim because it keeps Kalim’s attention on him and thus gives him access to the power & influence of the Asim.

so tell me, what’s it gonna take for Jamil to actual acknowledge those feelings as being genuine & mutual between him and Kalim? Because Sultan Kalim is just ready to marry Jamil already.

Anonymous asked:

Can you tell me more about your Sultan AU. The last comic with Kalim and Jamil got me intrigued and I love how you draw Jamil’s evil expression

selenacrest asked:

How exactly is the story of JamiKali in Sultan AU? Because after what I saw in the third comic I didn't understand anything

Anonymous asked:

Evil Royal Vizier Jamil! :) Any info of why he is the way he is?

Anonymous asked:

In the Sultan AU it looks like Jamil is sliding down the villain slope. I hope he uses Kalim’s feelings to manipulate him 😈😈😈😈

Anonymous asked:

Kalim will be horrified to learn he was used by Jamil in the sultan au.

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

Thank you so much for giving this comic and this AU in general so much love! I am super happy we finally posted it and that you liked it and have so many questions about it + the AU itself.  I really really enjoyed drawing this side of Jamil, because he is a scheming snake, and we should appreciate and love him for it lol

When it comes to this AU, there isn’t actually much lore to talk about: it’s pretty much a continuation of their canon story (based on how we see it, of course). So, it’s the canon timeline but ~5 years in the future.

I’ve mentioned it in several replies but I’ll say it again: I have a feeling these two are going to have a difficult relationship for their entire lives, because, even after the events of ch4, all of Jamil’s grudges towards Kalim are still intact. There has been some changes in the way they interact, plus Kalim learned about Jamil’s struggles and true feelings about him, but these changes aren’t really enough to change anything, especially considering how easy it is for people to unintentionally get right back to status quo. And this is exactly what would happen to these two.

So, Kalim is the head of his family now, and Jamil is his official adviser, not some servant. Kalim definitely sees them as equals, and tries his best to be a good ruler/good boss, but still relies on Jamil quite a lot. And for Jamil, he feels like he does everything he’s used to + even more now. So even though he is much more powerful now than he used to be, this feeling of him being squeezed inside of Kalim’s fist is stronger than ever.

But with Kalim being in love with him? It’s the ultimate power, something that can never be taken from him, as long as this idiot is infatuated. So he’ll definitely use this to his advantage, amused by how easy it is to manipulate Kalim and how easy he is to fool: one gentle gesture, one soft smile, and Kalim is absolutely helpless. And if Jamil takes things further…

Now, does Jamil have romantic feelings toward Kalim? Well, one thing about Jamil is, like one of the Anons mentioned, karma always bites him in the ass. He is kind of a loser frankly lol, whenever he tries to outsmart Kalim, he succeeds, but then something happens and makes his life miserable. So this whole thing is definitely going to backfire too.

Jamil has always had fondness for Kalim, but every warm feeling gets cruelly suppressed. But now that this “door” of the romantic closeness and intimacy with Kalim is open, Jamil can expect his biggest karma-ass-bite yet. What a fun surprise it’s going to be lol

Oh, and don’t worry about Kalim’s feelings. We all know how forgiving he could be lol

[gravity-barbie]

The Sparrows crushing on someone who’s already in a relationship HCs

Request @sparrowluvr

Umbrella version

Masterlist

Marcus Hargreeves

-Marcus doesn’t really sweat it when he learns your seeing someone, considering who he is he thinks he has a pretty good chance at winning you over despite that

-He’s too honourable to actively pursue you, but rather tries to subtly prove his worth to you with reminders of his accomplishments, and being there to help or care for you as often as possible, not that he avoids upstaging your partner in the process

-The competitive atmosphere and desire for a possibly unattainable love certainly pokes at some old wounds, but it’s also an environment he knows he can thrive in

-He definitely struggles a fair bit with jealousy, and he really lets it get to him to the extent that it messes with his self worth a bit, he can’t help comparing himself to your partner and over analysing his own shortcomings

-He knows he can’t really justify the amount of time he spends on you that he could be using to further other ambitions, and sometimes his more rational side takes over and he tries to just shut off his feelings for you, which he’ll be successful at until he actually sees you again

-It doesn’t take all that long for him to realise this is a mind game he doesn’t care to play, throw caution to the wind and respectfully place his cards on the table

Ben Hargreeves

-Internally, he’s a bit overdramatic about it, between this and losing his role in the academy he feels like the unluckiest person on the planet, outwardly though he tries to act unfazed, not that he does a great job at that

-With a passive aggressive attempt at politeness he often asks about your relationship, letting out plenty of subtle digs at your partner in the process, not above comments like “Seems like you could do better.” or “I would never do something like that.” when you complain

-When he’s actually face to face with your partner the venom really comes out, everything he says is some kind of barely disguised challenge, brag or threat, and man if looks could kill

-Despite his continuous attempts to get closer to you, he does resent his feelings for you, questioning if he’d be closer to number one if he spent less time on you, and letting his feelings of jealousy and rejection work him into a… unhelpful mindset

-However any attempt to distance himself makes him long for you all the more, if anything without the frustration at your partner to distract him, he’s reminded of how strong his feelings for you were in the first place, all the little things that made him like you

-He can only hold his feelings in for so long before in all likelihood confessing in a regrettable, very unromantic but truly vulnerable outburst

Alphonso Hargreeves

-As soon as he learns your taken, Alphonso decides to keep quiet about his feelings, he figures there’s more chance of you rejecting him than not and he really doesn’t want to deal with that

-Though he doesn’t exactly do the best job at hiding his affection, often catching himself saying too sentimental or flirty things to you and then overcompensating with badly improvised rude comments and dumb jokes

-When it comes to his resentment of and dislike for your partner, he makes no such attempt to hide how he feels, always greeting them with his harshest snark, which due to his type of personality he can get away with

-He’s not much of a schemer, he isn’t even necessarily trying to win you over, but he does take every chance he can to over-criticise and undermine your partner

-Sometimes the repressed emotions do get to and frustrate him, causing the occasional unexplainable outburst or a sulky attitude, though whenever it’s around you he always does damage control later

-He’s not terrible at being just a friend, he’s not especially romantic so he already has almost everything from you that he could want, he’s not quite content with it but he could definitely learn to live with it

Sloane Hargreeves

-When Sloane first catches feelings for you, she feels absolutely unstoppable, high on romance, so it’s a terrible come down to realise you’re already seeing someone

-She wears her heart on her sleeve, she has enough respect for your relationship to not confess her crush, but you’d have to be very oblivious to miss her obvious disappointment and longing

-She still cares about you and can’t bare to lose you as a friend too, so she does try to move on and focus on making your platonic bond as meaningful as she can

-She’s very sweet and understanding but she’s pushed to her limits once jealousy sets in, she holds your partner to a harsh standard and often can’t help noticing ways that you and her would make a better pair

-She does on occasion push the limits of platonic friendship, not purposefully, she just gets caught up in the moment, and for instance lets your eyes lock or touches linger for too long, or says things so sweet and passionate that you probably wouldn’t want your partner to overhear it

-If you show just a hint of reciprocation, her romantic instincts overpower the moral dilemma and she will fight to continue what you two have

Jayme Hargreeves

-Though she likes you, Jayme isn’t that active in pursuing you even before she learns you have a partner, so with that revelation she decides she’s definitely not wasting her time on you

-Or more accurately she just goes into deep denial about her crush, not reducing the amount of time she spends with or thinking about you in the slightest, but throwing around enough rude remarks to act like she’s too cool to care what’s going on with you

-She avoids your partner or even conversations about them like the plague, out of fear of saying something too revealing that she’ll regret, though if it’s unavoidable at least she can be as negative as she wants and pass it off as just being herself

-Generally her jealousy is more difficult to hide than her affection, being just friends is at its hardest when she has to see you ‘settling’ for someone that in her (biased) perspective you’re so much better than

-Her competitive (and petty) side does creep out a little, she won’t hesitate to shine a light on things she does better than your partner, or drag them over the coals for any mistake they make

-She gets sick of the emotional turmoil she’s going through very quickly and wants nothing more than an easy fix, she’s willing to try anything but an honest conversation about how she feels

[newromesweirdest]

Octavian’s Death: Analysis Pt 1

Earlier tonight I pulled out my copies of the Heroes of Olympus because I wanted to write some Octavian analysis posts, and I’ve been rereading some of his scenes from The Blood of Olympus. I reached his death scene, and I just wanted to hop on here and talk about it for a second.

Firstly, this scene honestly breaks my heart. Was Octavian misguided? Sure. Were some of his actions definitely questionable? Yes. But did he deserve to die like that? No, absolutely not.

Up until this point in the series, Nico had always been one of my favorites as a younger reader. But even when I was a kid and I disliked Octavian (solely because the narration tells us that we as readers should dislike him, and I was too young to really think of it any deeper than that), I still couldn’t believe the fact that Nico wouldn’t allow Will to attempt to save Octavian. “Some deaths cannot be prevented” is the excuse that Nico gives us as to why he doesn’t attempt to save Octavian. To me, it just feels like Nico is trying to justify this action to himself. We know that he dislikes Octavian and even considers assassinating him via shadow travel a few pages prior, and just before the battle itself Nico once again considers murdering Octavian in front of the First Cohort. Immediately after Octavian launches the onager, we’re told this:

“Nico could have even lived with Octavian’s end. He might have even said good riddance. But his heart sank as the comet kept gaining altitude. It disappeared into the storm clouds, and the sky exploded in a dome of fire.”

- Blood of Olympus, page 470

Despite the fact that Nico’s “heart sank”, it still feels to me as if he only half cares. Even with his feelings of guilt, at least part of himself still wants to say “good riddance.”

Octavian, whatever his faults may have been, did not deserve that end.

Something that struck me on my rereading of this scene is the fact that Michael Kahale just doesn’t seem to care at all. Now, we are told that Michael had been previously knocked unconscious by Tyson, and “he had a large red knot on his forehead.” It’s reasonable to assume that he probably also had a concussion, or at least some sort of mild head trauma. One of the main symptoms of a concussion is a loss of consciousness after a blow to the head, as well as a loss of coordination and confusion. Rick tells us this:

“He stumbled as he walked. But somehow he had found his way here from the shore, and along the way, he’d picked up a sword and shield.”

- Blood of Olympus, page 468

So far, Michael exhibits 2 “warning signs” of a concussion. 

At first glance, it seems like this scene is simply showing a blatant betrayal of Octavian by Michael, but I do wonder if there is something more under the surface.

Michael takes in the scene of Octavian with his robes tangled in the onager’s trigger rope, he looks to the sky and sees Festus, and he scowls at Nico. He asks Octavian twice if he is certain about firing the onager and killing the Greeks, and then he tells Octavian to do as he must.

In a way, it definitely reads like a betrayal scene. And on the surface, that’s exactly what it is, but if Michael did have a severe concussion, it could explain why he seemingly failed to register the severity of the situation. He shows no reaction to the smoke rising from Octavian’s jewelry, and he doesn’t seem to react to the toga wrapped around the tripper rope either. Remember, we’re seeing this through Nico’s POV. Nico tells us that Michael “took in the scene”, but we don’t actually know how much of it he actually processed or truly understood, especially after such a hard blow and a loss of consciousness.

It’s hard for me to decide if Michael knowingly allowed Octavian to die. On one hand, it feels like an obvious and blatant betrayal, but on the other hand, I do wonder if Michael was even fully aware of the situation at hand.

It’s a tough thing to call, and I think a lot of it comes down to what you personally believe. I just found the concussion possibility interesting, because from a medical standpoint it’s very likely that Michael did suffer some form of head trauma from Tyson’s blow, and it could explain his actions during this scene, at least in part.

Another thing that struck me during my rereading was the fact that it almost looks like Octavian knows that he is going to die. Mainly, his final words to Michael:

“A good friend to the last.”

That isn’t something that you just say out of the blue. Yes, both Octavian and Michael are on a battlefield in the midst of a battle as this line is spoken, and yet neither of them (at least as far as Octavian is seemingly aware of) are in imminent danger. So why then would you claim that someone is a “friend to the last?”

Furthermore, Octavian reiterates throughout The Blood of Olympus that he will be remembered as the savior of Rome or of the Romans. This is also one of the final things that he says.

Octavian seems thoroughly adamant that he will be remembered as a hero and a savior.

I could write a lot more about this (and I will very soon!!), but for tonight I’ll leave you all with this:

I believe that Octavian knew full well that he was going to die, and I believe that he knew that he was tangled in the onager, either through prophecies or through a quick observation that Nico missed.

[infinitesimaldna]

Have You Ever Considered Killing Your Title?—Chapter 14.5

Masterpost

______

“Remus.” Again, Remus’ father’s voice echoed down, dulled entirely of its sharpness and instead containing a truly satisfying amount of confusion. “What is this?”

Remus snickered, allowing himself another moment to revel in it. “A change of leadership, dear daddy. I mean, you crowned an heir for a reason, it was only a matter of time before he had to take your place, right?”

He didn’t catch any of the reactions outside of his mother’s, her thin sneer of distaste melding into a full face of disgust. For once, he felt she was actually justified in giving him that look. 

I mean, he had essentially just admitted to a plan of patricide. 

“Remus, you have been crown prince for mere days. You cannot seriously believe—”

“Believe what, King Marius? That the people will follow me? I’ll have you know I have it on good authority that the kingdom already loves me. It’s maybe not the most tasteful way to take over, but it damn sure is effective!” Man, it felt good to say damn. No more hiding his words with careful consideration for where he was or who he was with. Was this how normal people got to talk?

“Remus—”

“We’ve already taken the East Wing, father. Your little tower is one of the last things to fall. I’d appreciate it if you could come down and just make this whole thing easier, you know?” He let out a harsh giggle. “I mean, we’re prepared to fight into the night but I’d rather not lose the daylight; the sunset almost makes it look blood red and that’s so on theme.”

“You would really wish to see your own father’s blood be spilled? The man who raised you, gave you everything? Even the title you now flaunt today?” As always, the queen’s voice was filled with a righteous air, making you feel the need to conform to what she was saying, to be bashful for even thinking of going against it. It was definitely the hardest instinct he’d had to shake today.

Still, Remus let his eyes darken, containing everything he never said to the woman he called his mother. “I don’t just wish it—I yearn for it.”

Her eyes widened and she took an instinctive step back from the edge, away from him. As if putting more distance between them would change anything. 

“When did you get so insane?”

They traveled through the air so easily, arcing across and aiming to hurt in a way only his mother’s words ever could. He was ready for them this time though, adrenaline and never-ending glee deflecting them without pause. 

He allowed a look to bubble up then. One he had kept in reserve since he was 8 years old, since he was first told it looked too disturbed to ever belong to a young prince. Since he was told his smile was too demented and manic to be appreciated by even his own parents, his status more important than his glee.

Well they certainly weren’t appreciating it now, and his glee was definitely the most prominent thing he let show. 

“I’ve always been insane, mother. You’ve just never noticed.”

His attention was unfortunately torn from the queen all too soon, his father making a hand gesture that started a commotion in the castle headed their way. “The knights will take you out.”

Remus allowed himself one last laugh, loud and hazy in a way he could see disturbed his family to hear. “You’re forgetting something, ‘o wise king.

“I’m the one who trained your knights.”

~~

Roman looked down from the balcony, still a little uncertain of what exactly he was seeing. 

Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly what he was seeing, he just couldn’t quite get his mind to agree with the idea. 

Remus, his brother, was currently down beneath his parent’s balcony, besting all the palace knights in combat. The four who had at first looked to be Remus’ captors were holding off the influx so Remus could deal with each knight one on one. Most of them went down in mere seconds, and few lasted more than a minute. It was obvious then exactly how good Remus had been at his job: he knew every man, each of their weaknesses, how to beat them good and wholly without even wasting time. 

At this rate it would be impossible for the guards to best him, and there was only one trained fighter in this castle who hadn’t learned their skill at the hands of his brother.

He was moving down the hidden passageway before he could think, lingering in the alcove where he entered for only a moment to check his parents weren’t calling him back before starting down the narrow staircase that led to the bottom. He took the steps two or even three at a time, feeling gravity weigh down on him and using that to drive him forward, his feet barely moving fast enough to ensure they were there to catch him each time. 

When he reached the bottom his momentum was so great, he had to brace himself as he made impact with the door to the outside. Maybe not the best choice right before what he was certain would be a fight, but it was too late to take it back anyway. 

He slipped out the door, closing it behind him if only for his own comfort. It wasn’t like the passage was unknown to Remus; they had discovered them all together. Passage 2, Roman believed this one to have been. 

He discarded the memory quickly, not willing to let himself get lost in the innocence they had once upon a time. Instead, he stepped out carefully, cutting off the next knight who charged forward to fight and taking their place instead.

“Remus, what on earth is happening?”

The fighting around the ring continued, but everything halted in the center. Remus had now locked onto him, a bit of surprise but not seeming terribly bothered by it. In that moment, Roman chose to examine things a bit more closely.

Remus had switched the morningstar for a sword at some point, probably swiped off one of the bodies of the knights who were steadily finding themselves on the ground. His hair was wilder than Roman had seen him keep it since they were kids, and he got the feeling it wasn’t just from all the combat he had done. His outfit looked brand new, probably one of the looks created for him for the ceremony a few days ago. It was no wonder it wasn't chosen though—why would the tailor even create something with green? He couldn’t deny it looked nice altogether though; compared to Roman’s everyday attire he had on, Remus had a look much more royal about him. From the silver epaulets to the matching trim on the green sash that crossed his chest, it was a beautifully designed outfit. Even the dark gren of the main fabric body mixed well with Remus’ skin tone, making him look every bit the role he was trying to take by force. 

“Roman? How did you—” Remus halted, a small giggle bursting forth. “I had forgotten about that old passageway. Oh, how inconvenient. ” His statement sounded truthful, but something in Roman’s gut told him not to trust it. It was hard to recognize what exactly was up, and he wasn’t about to let his guard down lest the consequences be fatal, for him or his father.

“Remus, what happened? I hardly thought you the type to resort to something like this mere days after receiving your role.”

“Oh, Romie, Romie, Romie, are you really the best to judge what ‘type’ I am? I mean, have you even known me in the last decade? The last time you really saw me had to have been when we were what, seven?”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Roman shouted back, his grip on his own sword tight. Sure, their relationship had… dissolved a little over the years, but it hadn’t been that early. They were still friends at age 7, still did everything together. 

“Oh, of course you wouldn’t think so. Poor, innocent Roman who is so quick-witted, thinks he understands everything that’s going on, but doesn’t stay to see the outcome of whatever damage he causes.” Remus leaned on the hilt of the sword as he spoke, the tip dug into the ground just enough for him to put his weight on it. “I was always the one that had to cover it all up.”

Okay, now Roman was well and truly confused. For as angry as Remus looked in that moment, he had to know the words he was saying weren't true. There were far too many instances of the two of them working together, coming up with a plan to sneak away or hide something, but never alone—always in tandem. 

“I suppose it’ll be your turn for a coverup though, huh Robro?” Remus gave him a look then, filled with information he couldn’t possibly decipher. “What’ll you tell the kingdom if you beat me here today? That your poor brother went mad with power, that he snapped under the pressure, trying to claim what wasn’t his too soon? Anything to keep people from seeing how this had all been coming together since the very beginning.

“We were pushed towards this from the start,” Remus continued, standing up again and drawing the sword from the ground. “Our parents have had us fighting and competing against each other since we were born.”

Remus grinned. “Let’s give them what they want, shall we?”

The first strike came fast, his movements so quick Roman struggled to block it in time. His feet just barely held, his stance nowhere near correct enough to combat the full weight he was being hit with properly. He staggered back a bit when Remus pushed, moving their fight out of the center of the commotion and further onto the grass. His mind oh-so-helpfully quipped that they had been pushed closer to the cliff’s edge, and that not keeping his movements sharp could very easily result in a very dangerous tumble. 

Now was the time to focus, and he was ready to do just that. 

The next strike was easily blocked, and his own attack forced Remus to turn, moving so they were parallel with the cliff’s edge instead of having Roman with his back towards it. They exchanged blows, each clash of steel sounding too sharply in Roman’s ears as it grated on him who exactly he was fighting. This was not like the games of pretend they would play as kids; this was real, and he couldn’t figure out why it was happening in the first place. 

Their fight moved them around quite a bit, taking advantage of every solitary strip of land along the edge as they blocked, parried, thrusted. It was a skillful, artful dance, one Roman wanted to lose himself to so badly. He couldn’t however, not when the opponent was actually real this time. 

He had already lasted longer against Remus than he had in years, perhaps his adrenaline giving him an extra boost. It also helped that Remus was following his lead and going with an Italian fighting style, his own predilection to the German techniques seemingly discarded. 

It should have been enough of an advantage for Roman to gain the upper hand. It wasn’t. 

“Oh, come on, Romie. Sir Logan is better than you, and he’s only a knight! I expected more from my dearest brother.” 

What, Logan? The comment caught Roman off guard, and his next move was sloppy, even if it forced Remus closer to the cliff. What was Remus bringing Logan up for now? Of course he was a skilled talent, there was a reason he was the head of the knights—

A moment will come soon, and you’ll know the right thing to do.

Roman inhaled sharply as he recalled the other’s words from weeks ago now, the deep timbre of the knight’s voice ringing clearly in his head. He said it had involved his brother, that it was for him. He couldn’t possibly mean this, could he?

He grunted as he gave a hard push, causing Remus to stumble and find his footing just before the cliff’s edge. He held his sword up for another strike, chest rising and falling resolutely as he stared down the other. 

He begged that his ability to read his brother hadn’t completely disappeared as he held his stance, poised to strike but not moving just yet.

“Remus, the crown was yours. You held the power, everything we had worked for our entire lives.” He allowed some of the hurt he felt to enter his voice, and cataloged the way Remus suppressed a grimace at that. Like he was fighting himself—like he didn’t want to hurt Roman. 

“What could possibly have driven you to this?” That was as close as Roman could get to asking what was really going on. Each word between them had obviously been carefully crafted on Remus’ part, every detail and anecdote he let slip chosen with purpose. Please, he pleaded, every part of him screaming to be heard by his brother. Let me in on what you want here. On what I can do.

“I’m only doing what’s right.” The words were spoken with a smile, and Remus’ eyes looked up to meet Roman’s. Briefly, he realized it was the first time they had made eye contact since the announcement that Remus was crown prince. Those eyes were devastating to look into, especially as they seemed to convey only one message: trust me.

“I’ve always been the evil twin.”

The strike came fast, but this time Roman was ready, blocking it in the perfect position to change from defensive to offensive. It was one of his favorite moves to do, and Remus knew that. He also knew the force of it would be enough to drive himself back, and there was very little land left for him to stand on. 

Roman hesitated, muscles tight with the weight of the other’s blow, every part of him waiting for that signal to move forward with a move he’d practiced so many times he could do it in his sleep. 

Trust me, was the message he had gotten from his twin.

He grimaced and stepped forward, allowing his full weight to tip the other back over the cliff’s edge.

~~

Freefalling, Remus had decided, was not nearly as peaceful as some people made it out to be. The wind was too loud in his ears, the churning of the sea too aggressive for it to be described as anything near peace. 

That just made it all the more enjoyable in his opinion. Peace really had never been his thing. 

There are some rocks off this cliff, he knows. He also knows from a height, the surface tension of water can be like running into a stone wall. To go tumbling off this cliff could be painful, and he hadn’t even tumbled—he was shoved. 

He was glad his message got through to Roman, he just hoped his own acting had been good enough. 

The pitch of the wind in his ears seemed to get higher, and he held back a wince as it got a little higher than was comfortable. Then again, if he wanted any part of this to be comfortable, he would have chosen a different plan. 

An image flitted through his head then, as he careened his way towards the waves. A skull cracked open; the way the blood would ooze out, or perhaps stop altogether if there was nothing to tell his heart to keep pumping it. If you landed on the right portion, could you destroy your pain receptors first? Make it so you didn’t feel the impact shattering each and every bone in your body? Make it so the experience was nothing but euphoric?

And then it hit him that this whole thing was already euphoric. There was no one to tell him to stop thinking that way, to press down something all too gruesome. No, for the first time in his life he could think his thoughts all he wanted, and no one would be able to stop him, or tell him to find something better suited to his role. 

He wasn’t sure if anything would ever be better than that freedom, and he let it carry a smile onto his face as he was greeted by the sea.

------

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[friendfromdsmp]

Are there Adrien Salt takes that you disagree with?

I definitely think that Adrien gets unnecessary hate as well as unnecessary praise. One thing that disappoints me is how many people see a lot of Adrien’s actions as malicious due to his arguably abusive behaviours concerning his love for Ladybug

You can partake in abusive behaviours without malicious intent. You can form a pattern of abuse without malicious intent. And while good intentions don’t justify or excuse the abuse, it does help to get to the root of the problem. In Adrien’s case, it seems to be a matter of not having been provided healthy outlets for his emotions, emotional identification and regulation or any positive examples or role models to lead by example

Before the show began, Adrien only had a few people in his life; his father, the cold and distant man who secretly had full control of Adrien’s free will and isolated him and all but forced him to work for his brand and do an ungodly amount of extracurriculars; Nathalie, the assistant who seems to have shown Adrien lightly more care and gentle encouragement but that’s really grown in the past few months more than anything; the bodyguard who’s chill and would keep a secret but isn’t exactly a fountain of advice, at best he’s a great option for venting; a mother who we know nothing about but judging by what we know in-universe there was most likely nothing too much better than Nathalie or Gabriel in her; and Chloé, the best friend that was clearly a horrible influence that Adrien tolerated more than liked but clung to all the same for being his only friend

All of this absolutely screams of an unhealthy social development in his upbringing. And when we see how Chloé and Gabriel both throw tantrums like toddlers whenever they don’t get their way or they need to play a part to manipulate others, it’s no wonder that Adrien has a tendency to lash out when his emotions get volatile. It’s not healthy or acceptable, but it’s understandable

Adrien also seems to have developed a bit of a codependency issue of sorts when it comes to Ladybug; if she’s not there, he doesn’t function, but when she’s present he constantly shows off and tries to win her over. This is another factor of his neglectful upbringing; he’s strongly motivated by praise and has a high reward drive, but when there’s no attention to be gained, positive or negative, he sees no point. And with Ladybug being the first person to actually return that emotional connection with him in a genuine and friendly way, he seems to latch onto her to continue supplying him with that positive emotional input and manage his emotions. Again, none of this is healthy or acceptable behaviour, but it’s understandable why he’d get to this point; it’s a classic case of a neglected child acting out for attention, whether positive or negative, because it’s better than feeling totally invisible

Adrien needs therapy, is the bottom line here. He’s developed horrible coping mechanisms or just straight-up lacks them due to a traumatic and neglectful childhood. I don’t think he’s always morally well-intentioned, but I think a lot of his abusive acts, while definitely not excusable, aren’t done out of any kind of ill-intent. They’re mostly done out of ignorance of how to appropriately express or vent his emotions, which results in him lashing out in harmful ways or completely shutting down on both himself and others. Both are harmful, but not inherently malicious. What Adrien needs to do is learn emotional regulation, something that everyone learns as they grow. Hell, it’s something many adults still struggle with, so I won’t blame a teenage boy for not having it down pat. But that doesn’t absolve him of responsibility to work on himself and to make amends for his past behaviours

[stargazeraldroth]

Okay! It is I, Rainy, now bringing you more details on my Forced Gods AU!

Firstly, the very basics: Guardians of aspects of the Balance are selected for their roles by taking into account what they’re skilled at, and what they enjoy doing, and if they’d be happy to keep doing that, even if it’s exhausting. It doesn’t make sense to give someone so powerful a job they hate, after all- They’d be able to leave eventually.

A good example would be Reaper- He doesn’t enjoy being able to kill anything with a touch, but he’d never want his brother dealing with a responsibility like this, and I’ve always imagined him as the kind of guy who likes bringing comfort and guidance, even if people are scared of him at first. Guiding the dead is exhausting, yes, and leaves him touch starved, but it’s also rewarding to him, to have a tiny, fragile soul in his hands as they realize that even in death, they aren’t alone or unloved. It leaves him happy, to guide people to their loved ones in the afterlife.

But, to summarize the actual plot, Error, while initially very reluctant to destroy (he doesn’t exactly… Want dust and blood on his hands, you know?), ends up destroying worlds regardless- Maybe the first one is an accident, maybe he felt pressured or forced, the specifics don’t matter. What does matter is that he feels… Lighter? Happier? After he does it. And he brushes it off, at first, because he’s a good person, right? He doesn’t actually want to kill and destroy like this, right? He doesn’t want to do this- But you can only exist for so long, and see so much of the same thing, before you become… Numb, in a way- Aren’t they all the same, at their core? Is he really hurting real people?

And then he starts to spiral from there, rationalizing what he has to do- Aren’t they all just copies? Do they really matter, when there’s plenty of other things just like them out there? Aren’t so many of them just corruptions of an original concept- More miserable, more violent, more aquatic, more beastly, more hungry, more everything? They all blend together, anyways- And they’re all always repeating, over and over again. By that logic, is he doing them all a favor, ending that kind of cycle? Using those thoughts, he takes to his work with a bit more vigor- He’s doing this for them, right? He’s helping them, they just don’t know it. It doesn’t have anything to do with how nice it feels, to tear things apart and watch them dissolve into nothing. It doesn’t have anything to do with how it leaves him lighter and freer, or how it quenches some quiet, distantly sadistic part of him, to watch people realize that their world is falling apart around them and they can’t do anything about it.

And then he starts feeling less and less of an urge to justify it to himself, to remind himself that these are people who deserve some level of respect, even if he needs to wipe their universe out- These aren’t really people that he’s saving, after all. They’re functionally ants to someone who’s existed as long as he has, by now, and they aren’t even interesting, anymore. And are they even meant to be here? Aren’t they just taking up space- Space that could be used for something else? Why would he be here, told to wreck havoc, if not to wipe it all out eventually? Hell, half of these shitty abominations aren’t even that happy, they probably want to stop existing! Isn’t he doing them a favor, putting him out of their misery? Isn’t he like a god, to their puny souls? Souls that all look the same, even- All they’re really good for is acting like fairy lights. It really brightens up his antivoid, and it’s fun to mess with them once he strings them around up there. Who cares how much that weird grim reaper guy scolds him- Death is nothing to utter destruction, after all, and really, what harm is a few misplaced souls in the cycle of life gonna do? At this point, he’s stopped denying how much he enjoys this- It’s exhilarating, having this much power, this much control! He doesn’t even remember why he ever hated it- He’s doing what he was made to do, what he was born to do, tearing things apart and leaving white voids in his wake. He’s a god to these useless anomalies, and the idea that he ever thought they were worth something is hilarious, now. What’s a few dirty glitches to a timeless deity that was made to destroy them?

There’s a tugging where what remains of his soul is, nowadays, like he’s forgetting something, doing something wrong- Which is the stupidest thing he’s heard in a long time. Why would he need to slow down? Why should he have to let the Multiverse heal? Why does there need to be anything at all? He can tear those damned universes to shreds in moments, and they take so long to come into existence that it feels like they weren’t meant to be at all. Who gives a damn how desperately that weird ass squid of a skeleton tried to convince him to stop and talk, or how hard the little mistake tried to get him to listen? Error is a god and he answers to no one- Certainly not some tiny artist who cares too much for the abominations that litter the Multiverse like trash. Though Error can admit- For someone that barely seemed capable of functioning, that so-called Protector did well keeping up with him. It was almost fun.

Ink, for his part, is being completely run ragged, desperately trying to encourage creators that are rapidly losing hope of their worlds holding meaning (and he tries not to think of the way his chest aches and hurts, in the space where a soul would be if he had one), trying to help Core rescue any stragglers left in the wake of the rogue Destroyer’s wake (all of them so, so hurt and angry, why didn’t he help them, why couldn’t he save more of them-), repairing whatever scraps of the AUs that he can (it’s rare that there’s anything left, anymore), trying to jump in and Protect in the way he always had (though it gets harder and harder, with every destroyed world weighing his bones down with pain, heavier and heavier), desperately trying to mediate between the Guardians of positivity and negativity because the last thing they need is another severe imbalance (and they’re still so, so young, and it’s times like this that he misses Nim so deeply it hurts-)… It’s all so much, and he’s breaking under the pressure- Reaper and Life try, at least, but this isn’t their jurisdiction, and they have their hands full trying to manage how deeply the Destroyer has interfered with their own Balance, anyways. He can’t ask more of them.

He doesn’t understand where it all went wrong- The Destroyer was meant to wipe out worlds, yes, but not every single one. It was meant to be worlds at the end of their lifespans, to let the inhabitants move into the gentle hold of Reaper before being born anew from Life to experience a new universe and all its wonders. He was meant to end copied or stolen universes- One with no true passion and love that a only a creator can gift to their creations, ones where the inhabitants can feel, keenly, that lack of true spark in their souls.

It feels like failure, to Ink- Somehow, someway, he hadn’t been good enough, and now, everyone is paying the price. He quick patches and desperate repairs aren’t doing the trick, anymore- The Balance is tipped too far, and at this rate, it won’t ever be righted.

The Multiverse is dying, and no one knows how to fix it.

(… Ahem. That got long. Let me know your thoughts, though!)

🌧️ Rainy Anon 🌧️

Finally, some good Forced God of Destruction

I'm only noticing a key difference between out interpretations just from the introduction. I think that's pretty neat! I like seeing how people interpret things differently! I usually don't have the ability to retire for my AUs, but then again, I also give the Guardians/Gods different, uh... what's the word... bodily composition? Physiology? I'm not sure what the word is. Regardless, I'm sure they appreciate the mercy of retirement lol.

I find Reaper's place in the Balance Guardians to be a bit difficult sometimes. I mean, he's obviously the God of Death, but there's also his brother, another God of Death. I can understand his sorrow regarding his duties, even with the souls, he's probably lonely. Maybe that's why he likes Geno so much.

... I read "more beastly" as "more breastly", and I will not elaborate on how I misread that. But if I'm understanding this correctly, then what starts as begrudging destruction and conflicting feelings turns into a twisted sense of heroism, right? This reminds me of the Messiah Complex, though I don't know how applicable that actually is. It's been a while since I looked at anything for that. So, if I understand this correctly, Error thinks of himself as something of a savior to the AUs for destroying them. His isolation in the Anti-Void probably didn't help with his spiraling madness, I'll bet. And for the record Error, your Anti-Void is already bright enough. It's pure white!

I like the detail of the Balance trying to tell Error that he's going too far. It doesn't actually tell him, but it's like it's poking at his subconsciousness, hoping to remind him of why he's doing this in the first place. And the way he looks down on the other Guardians... big sad. Especially Ink. He knows Ink is the Protector, but does he know that Ink's the Guardian of Creation?

And Ink... my baby :(( he's trying his best! There's so much that's out of his control, but he's the Protector, he's supposed to save people and AUs! Hm... something I have to ask: if push came to shove... would Ink be forced to... "dispose" of Error? Error is the God of Destruction, yes, but should something happen, there's always replacements... right? And if Error's overstepping and posing too great a threat to the Multiverse, is it not Ink's sworn duty to eradicate him? Is there anyone who has a skewed perception of the situation and thinks this rampant destruction is a good thing (with the exception of Nightmare)? And, just out of curiosity... does Ink die? I do like my permadeath angst.

Also, that end bit gave me an idea for a FGOC idea. I'm gonna make a post about that.