#and can't make her own choices post-canon

[autisticzenitsu]

Zenitsu haters are very stupid

They really are. They are completely devoid of media literacy and it shows. They're literally out here claiming he did shit that never even happened, stripping other characters of their agency to demonize Zenitsu, and ignoring literal canon that proves them wrong.

Like, if they'd just say they didn't care for his arc, that'd be one thing, but it's always demonizing him for showing autistic traits. As an autistic woman who has trouble picking up on boundaries and when people are uncomfortable, I'd. Really appreciate it people would listen when I say something is ableist.

And that's not even ADDRESSING the classism a lot of Zenitsu hate delves into. Or the victim-blaming.

[deadrocks]

Torn because I want to commiserate a bit about the end of Dragon Age as a series, but I don't want to hit any "if you criticized Veilguard or didn't buy it, this is *your* fault" -style posts. Maybe there aren't any, but I'm not feeling inclined to go find out.

[luckyblackcatxiii]

I realized I had a bunch of CoS drawings I never shared here--mainly because they didn't feel 'big' enough to warrant their own post, if that makes sense?--and figured I had enough of a collection for a dump post!

Explanations for each row of images is as follows (if interested):

1.) Ah...Vasili von Holtz. Voted most favored, gentlemanly and least suspicious man in Vallaki. He and Saverio interacted again and I'm pulling out my hair, he's so suspicious but he keeps impressing my boy/ticking all his impressionable boxes...

2.) GUESS WHO MANAGED TO PULL OFF DISGUISE SELF??? Saverio has never been one to attempt magic because he 'doesn't have the brains for it' (it's the past trauma of an emotionally abusive household you see) but he found himself attempting it alone and...well...he'd like to utilize this new found talent down the road :J (Also his choice of look was 'something easy, so no mustache and with my father/brother's looks' because he's always been curious~)

3.) We briefly ran into Escher officially and boy...he and Saverio do not get along whatsoever. The cattiness is immediate and unfortunately Strahd gets a kick out of it, so I drew a non-canonical event but the embodiment of those two's relations already. I can't wait to meet him again and for actual fruit-on-fruit violence to commence

4.) The party! Kaz had found something while everyone was asleep or on watch, so this was just their fits at the moment (Ireena in one of her disguises which I still need to draw...)

5.) Not much else to say but 'they might not be related by blood, but they certainly are siblings!'

6.) Kaz found a little infernal familiar cat-thing that has been lovingly named Soot. We love him and if anything happens to him we will kill everyone and then ourselves

7.) Group had requested a Sav in just his nightshirt and stockings. Figured I could use the practice on conveying his prettiness

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Gossip Is Currency

Prompt Day 21: Formal | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Canon Background Stancy | Tags: Missing Scene from S2's The Pollywog, Post-Halloween "Bullshit" Scene, Pre-Steddie, Platonic Hellcheer, School Sucks, Eddie Knows

This is cruel and unusual punishment. 

Eddie sits on the stupid folding chair, behind the stupid folding table, with a stack of tickets to sell to the winter formal. It was this or another suspension, and it was only because he was sure Wayne would not appreciate not having to talk to the principal again anytime soon, that Eddie chose this option.

They've got bubbly cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham sitting next to him controlling the money box that they definitely didn't trust him to be anywhere near, as they try to sell tickets to the kids still roaming around during extracurriculars.

Chrissy hasn't said anything to him after greeting him, and he hasn't said anything in return. They hung out once before, during a middle school talent show, but he doesn't expect that she remembers that.

Another shitty jock walks up.

"Two?" Chrissy asks.

"Yeah," the kid answers, and she takes the money, makes the change, and all Eddie has to do is hand over the two ticket stubs.

He resents it. 

It's stupid, it's–

"It's bullshit," he hears from down the hall.

Yeah, it's exactly that.

And hell's frozen over, if he agrees with King Steve.

Harrington's in some sort of heated debate with Wheeler as they stomp down the hallway, bickering back and forth. She's a fucking firebrand, that one. Everyone thinks she's a priss, but oh no, Eddie's studied this whole school long enough to know that's not even remotely true.

Harrington's gonna get knocked down a peg or two under her, and deservedly so.

Seeing them coming in his direction is at least interesting. Eddie tears off the two tickets and hands them over to Tweedle Dumb, and keeps watching the free show heading his way.

"Winter formal tickets?" Chrissy asks Harrington, and Jesus H. Christ, does she have no observation skills? Now is not the time. This is the time to blend into the wall so they can get the dirty fucking details on this fight. Gossip is currency.

Harrington turns to look at them, and shakes his head no. He looks more sad than mad, and that isn't near as fun. 

"Steve," Wheeler says, and she looks annoyed.

Harrington runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends, and then they're gone. 

Well, that was uneventful in the end. He didn't learn anything worth repeating.

Eddie had heard rumors of a Halloween night blow-up, but wasn't there to see it with his own eyes. Apparently they're still in a tiff today.

He can still hear the echo of them around the corner and down the hall, and well, he's nosey. It pays to know everything that's going on in this school.

"Be right back," Eddie says, and follows them down the hall, with the excuse that he's heading to the pop machine.

He digs four quarters out of his pocket, and pretends it's hard to make a decision, before hitting the Mellow Yellow button. The machine whirrs to life, and the can drops down. He feeds the other two quarters in, still trying to listen to Harrington and Wheeler fussing by the double-doors.

Eddie can't really decipher much besides hissing mumbles. Damn.

He presses another button without even really paying attention.

Welch's Grape Soda.

He might actually pick that over the Mellow Yellow he thought he originally wanted.

Harrington and Wheeler leave, so Eddie takes both cans back towards the table, holding them up, an offer, "You want?"

Chrissy smiles, "Really?"

Eddie nods, "You choose," he says, and she falters, just a bit, looking up at him like there might be a wrong answer.

There's no wrong answer here. No trick. He puts them both down on the table, "Totally fine either way."

She reaches for the grape, and is still looking his way. He nods, "Excellent choice," as he picks up the Mellow Yellow, and cracks open the can.

"Thanks, Eddie," she says, like he's given her something more than a can of pop. Carver's a bigger dick than he'd realized, apparently. 

They sit in silence, waiting for more kids to finish up with their stupid clubs and practices. 

The door clangs closed on the other end of the school, and they wait. It's Harrington again. He crosses the hall intersection in his little shorts, and Eddie can see that he's pinching his nose as he darts out of their line of sight as quickly as he entered.

Then it's just them, alone in the hallway again.

"She called him bullshit," Chrissy whispers.

Eddie turns and looks at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

She does.

"On Halloween. At Tina's party. She called him and his love bullshit. I heard it myself, waiting for the bathroom. She was drunk, not making sense about Barb Holland. It was pretty mean."

"No shit?" he asks, leaning closer. 

She nods, giving him a rundown of the whole party. She's got all the good gossip, not just about Harrington and Wheeler's dust up. Eddie feels a twinge of something. 

He's well acquainted with being shit on publicly.

Nobody's around this school, and Eddie gets up to go take a piss. He can't sit still. Hates it. And doing it for this is a special version of hell.

He walks down the hall, to the bathroom. He stands in front of the urinal, unzips and is pissing when he hears the stifled cough from behind him.

Eddie turns to look and sees familiar shoes under the stall door.

Tucking himself back in, re-zipping, he reaches over and flushes the urinal.

"Harrington," Eddie says. 

He waits and there's no response. 

"Harrington," he tries again.

"Go away, Munson," Harrington says, and then mumbles under his breath, "It's bullshit. I'm bullshit."

Eddie takes three steps towards the door, then impulsively turns back.

"She's wrong, you know? You're not bullshit."

And then Eddie waits a beat before adding, "You're just an asshole."

Steve chuckles, and Eddie smiles to himself as he turns and heads out the door.

Timing is everything. 

Mission accomplished.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[scoutofmymind]

Saw that someone said Luigi’s Reddit had a post where he eluded to a pretty heavy drinking habit in college, which then makes me think about drunk ex!luigi. I’m sorry, but you write angst too well

Unlearn Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, slight pining, mentions of canon back pain, ex’s reminiscing, heartbreak all over again.

Wc: 4,336 (holy shit)

Notes; Two semesters of carefully crafted distance crumbles at 3AM in the computer lab when your final project implodes hours before the deadline, leaving you with no choice but to seek help from the one person you've been avoiding since the breakup.

Before we continue, I cannot ignore that wildfires continue to ravage Los Angeles, countless families have lost their homes and livelihoods. I urge you to consider supporting those affected through any of these donation links, additionally, Roadogs on Instagram is looking for fosters for mass evacuations of shelter dogs in California.

Foster or donate if you can. xo.

Now, let’s go.

"Mother fucker," you curse, attacking your keyboard with increasingly desperate keystrokes.

Each combination might be the one to salvage this disaster, but deep down you know it's hopeless — your software has corrupted itself into oblivion, taking six months of work with it.

"You can ask for an extension," Emma suggests, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion that matches your own. Your roommate had burst into the media center still wearing her pink silk pajamas, immediately launching into a nervous tirade about after-hours permissions and potential expulsion risks.

Her constant hovering and worrying grates on your last nerve, and you tell her to leave.

Predictably, she refuses.

"Listen, I'm not just gonna leave you here on your own." She leans across your workspace, her body pressing against your laptop screen until it tilts halfway closed. You freeze, fingers suspended above the keys, terrified of losing what little progress you've made in this digital archaeology expedition. "There's - like - a murderer on campus."

"One girl said she was followed home," you gently remind. Under normal circumstances, Emma's mother-hen routine would be endearing — charming, even. But right now, with your project in shambles and deadline looming, her protective hovering feels suffocating. "Not murdered, Em."

"May as well have been." Emma fixes you with that look — the one that screams why am I the only rational person here? While her nails tap nervously against your desk. "Probably hasn't left her room since. And you know what? Smart girl.”

You scrub your hands over your face, your eyes fixed on the projector's word vomit — an endless stream of error messages and unintelligible code painting the drywall from a tired projector like some twisted modern art piece.

Not exactly what you were going for.

Emma stands mesmerized, "How did you even do this?" She watches the cryptic display crawl across the wall, her eyes tracking each line as if she could decode it. "This reminds me of-" she catches herself, the name hanging unspoken between you. She's learned that lesson the hard way. "This is wild.”

You can't help but notice.

Notice how she almost speaks his name, how these meaningless strings of letters and numbers somehow bridge the gap to memories you've tried so hard to bury — promises whispered under star-sprinkled skies, fingers intertwined beneath the cosmic glow.

Moments that felt eternal then, ephemeral now.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, lying face-down like a surrender.

You blink several times, trying to clear the ghosts from your vision before speaking, your voice emerging barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves might shatter something in the air, "Should I text him?" You ask, offering the idea as if it was something too controversial to be spoken aloud.

Emma shifts her weight, both from exhaustion and the sudden weight of responsibility.

Your night's trajectory now rests in her hands — she who has witnessed every shade of you, from triumph to devastation. Her own memories of him surface: the way he'd raid her ice cream stash only to replace it with a premium pint the next day, how he'd tackle the dish mountain without prompting, those small gestures that made him feel like family.

"He was my favorite boyfriend of yours," she'd told you once, in a moment of wine-honest conversation. "He was a good boy."

A good boy who made a couple mistakes.

But those mistakes had compounded like interest on a debt you never agreed to pay, until the rift between you and Luigi widened into an ocean.

Everything good had been pulled out with the tide — your trust, your shared future — swept away to depths where no light could reach.

"I-" Emma's hand finds the back of her neck, her expression cycling through a slideshow of conflicted emotions. You can see her internal struggle; the desire to crawl into her bed warring with her loyalty to you. And she knows you well enough to realize you'd stay here until sunrise if necessary. "I mean — babe, I love you, but you can't fix this." The admission seems to pain her, as if acknowledging your limitations feels like betrayal. "We aren't techies."

You stare helplessly at your gutted gallery, stripped bare by your own accidental digital vandalism. Your artwork, your portfolio, your future — all reduced to incomprehensible strings of code projected onto an indifferent wall.

"Do you think he'd come?" The question escapes before you can stop it, your eyes magnetized to your phone as if your stare alone could resurrect that old text thread, buried beneath months of careful silence.

"Of course he would."

A soft, defeated whine escapes you as you turn back to glare at your corrupted work, as if you could intimidate it into fixing itself through sheer force of will.

Emma's voice softens, "Hey, he's mature enough to understand you've exhausted your options."

A violent shudder runs through you at the thought of Luigi being your last resort.

You'd managed to exile the visceral memories — the heated arguments that left you gasping for air, the promises that turned to vapor in the morning light.

"Which are?"

Emma looks down at her Pokemon-clad self, then back at you. "Me." She gestures vaguely in your direction, "and you."

The campus sleeps around you, everyone else lost to their dreams or late-night calls home. Just the two of you remain, trapped in this dimly-lit purgatory on a Wednesday night, while error messages mock your existence with their endless scroll.

"Slim pickin's," you mutter as your fingers betray you, finding Luigi's contact with muscle memory that refuses to die.

How many times had you pressed these same digits before?

But this is different.

Different because you haven't spoken since that night in your kitchen, when you stood with your back to him, voice steady despite the trembling in your hands, "So, we aren't going to try to figure this out?" You asked, and he’d responded with some pretentious comparison about your relationship being like corrupted code, fundamentally flawed, destined to fail its own quality test.

The irony isn't lost on you — the very metaphor he used to end things is now the thread that might pull you back into his orbit. Your only connection besides the elaborate dance of avoidance across campus, treating each other's paths like holy ground neither dares to tread.

Opening the thread, you're greeted by your last exchange — your final words to him blazing across the screen in angry blue bubbles: "I want my fucking shit back or I'll make your life a living hell." Such poetry. Your new message hovers in the text box, simpler, desperate in its brevity.

Hey need help with somethin. U up??

You thrust your phone at Emma like it's burning your fingers, watching her eyes widen as they catch on those months-old texts — digital artifacts of your rage that should have been scrubbed before tonight's desperate plea. "Jesus," she whispers, amusement dancing in her expression. "I'd still be licking my wounds if I were hi-"

The familiar buzz cuts through the air, a notification chime that once made your heart leap but now makes it sink.

"What'd he say?" You mumble, gaze fixed on the mocking projection that bathes the room in its sickly digital glow, code continuing its relentless march across the wall.

Emma settles into a chair, hunching over your laptop's makeshift altar. "Said he's at Ruddy's." She squints at a fresh message. "He said 'what do you want?'" She deepens her voice into a cartoonish baritone, making him sound like a caveman discovering text messaging for the first time.

You can't blame him for the cold response — you’d scorched that earth thoroughly.

But a selfish part of you wants to delete the whole exchange, pretend this moment of weakness never happened, go back to the careful choreography of avoiding each other's existence.

But you can't.

The corrupted gallery looming on the wall is a stark reminder that pride is a luxury you can't afford right now.

His icy reception is the natural consequence of your scorched-earth campaign, those venom-laced messages sent in the throes of heartbreak and confusion.

You'd played the role of the woman scorned perfectly, even though you'd written your own tragic script.

"Just send him a picture." You wave listlessly at the wall, where your work continues its digital decomposition, folding in on itself like a dying star. The error messages stretch into an endless serpent of nonsense, each iteration making less sense than the last.

The artificial shutter sound of Emma's photo breaks the silence, followed by the soft swoosh of sending. The wait feels eternal until-

Ding

Emma's attention snaps to your phone resting on her thigh, her eyes widening. "He's typing like he-"

Sorry;m,, I’m fucked uo

Up

I am

fucked up

Emma clicks her tongue and rises, crossing the room to lob your phone into your lap, screen up. "Guess some things don't change." You manage a weak half-grin, memories flooding back unbidden — Luigi stumbling into your dorm in the small hours, wrapped in whiskeys warmth, all soft edges and desperate hands.

"Well, make up your mind." Emma's yawn threatens to unhinge her jaw, arms wrapping around herself like armor. "Are we done here, or are you gonna have him come take a look?"

I’n be there son

I’ll be rherw soo

I’ll be there soon

You stand to wrap your arms around Emma’s shoulders who reluctantly curves her arms upward to squeeze your shoulders. “Go home.” She seems reluctant to listen, staring at your phone screen as if it would take her home itself. “I promise, I’ll be just fine.”

The space between you pulses with that unique warmth reserved for someone who shares your roof, your darkest secrets, and the monthly struggle with Con Edison. "Just don't make any brash decisions."

"Oh, Em." You press a kiss to her forehead. "You think I'm so much cooler than I am."

Emma's laugh follows her as she spins toward the door, collecting pieces of herself like breadcrumbs — the scarf draped over a chair, the coat hung forgotten, the backpack abandoned when the day still held promise.

Each item a marker of how long this digital nightmare has stretched, from sunshine to moonlight.

And as if summoned by cosmic irony, the lab door swings open to reveal Luigi. "Oh - hey, E." The surprise flickers across his face before he schools his features back to neutral.

"Hey, Lu." Her greeting carries the easy familiarity of their old routine, like NPCs in a cozy game exchanging preset dialogue, their paths crossing exactly as programmed.

"You g'na help me with this?"

Emma shakes her head, patting his shoulder as she passes — a gentle handoff. "I did my time." You want to protest, but words fail as you absorb the sight of him, eight months of careful avoidance crumbling in an instant.

"Ahh-" Luigi waves, feigning disappointment through the druken haze. "Need a walk back home?"

Ever the shepherd, guardian of late-night wanderers.

It didn't matter who you were — friend, stranger, ex-lover’s best friend and roommate — his self-appointed mission to ensure everyone's safe return never wavered.

You'd once wondered if it stemmed from some deeper anxiety, his mind unable to rest until every sheep was accounted for in its fold.

Tonight though, the alcohol has mercifully dulled that protective instinct. Emma's potential disappearance into the night ranks lower on his list of concerns than usual, although Emma herself had been the one earlier to warn you of the murderer on campus.

"You still got my location," Emma reminds him — a callback to conversations past, to the day she'd granted Luigi permanent access to her whereabouts, a level of trust you'd wisely withheld.

"Right."

She presses a kiss to her fingers, flashing you a peace sign with the same hand before it briefly lands on Luigi's shoulder. Then she's gone, disappearing into the snow-globe world he'd just stumbled in from. He stands before you now, arms hanging like dead weight, his eyes somehow both wide and narrow.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

You gesture weakly at the wall where your work writhes in digital agony. "So, uh — remember that time you salvaged Professor Wren’s entire thesis when her drive crashed?"

Luigi's eyes follow your hand, professional interest temporarily overriding the awkwardness. He steps closer, squinting at the corrupted display, "Jesus," he mutters, "what did you do to it?"

"Would you believe me if I said nothing?" The laugh that escapes is more nervous than you'd like. "It just. - it started disintegrating during final checks."

He's already pulling out his laptop, muscle memory from countless late-night tech rescues. The familiarity of it hits you in the chest — how many times had you watched him do this same thing, hunched over his keyboard, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration?

"I can try," he says finally, not quite meeting your eyes. "But no promises. When's this due?"

"Tomorrow at nine."

"Of course it is." He drops into the chair beside you, close enough that your elbows almost touch, but enough of a distance to still feel far away. “Okay, walk me through what it's supposed to look like when it's not — uh - whatever this is."

For a moment, Luigi stares at the corrupted display where red pixels bleed and stutter across the wall. His fingers hover over his keyboard, then pause. "Wait. This is your circulatory modeling project? The one you were-“ He cuts himself off, remembering this was before the eight months of silence.

"Yeah." You swallow. "It was working perfectly until an hour ago. Real-time hemodynamics, pressure differentials, vessel elasticity. Everything." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, feeling more helpless when you verbalize it.

He nods, already typing with uncanny precision despite the slight sway in his posture. "Show me the base code. Did you save any backups?"

"Three. All corrupted." You lean forward, careful not to crowd him as you pull up the mangled files. "It's like something got into the core simulation and just - I dunno - started rewriting them."

"Hm." His eyes scan the screen with that laser focus he somehow maintains no matter how much he drinks, that familiar furrow appearing between his brows. "These values are cascading. One corrupted variable triggering a chain reaction through the whole system." He glances at you, slightly overshooting before correcting. "When's the last time it ran correctly?"

You check your phone. "6:43 PM. I have a screen recording from then."

"Good. That's good." He pulls up a second window, his typing still flawless even as he reaches with his free hand to steady himself against the desk. "We can compare the execution logs, maybe isolate where it started going wrong." His fingers fly across the keys with a precision that seems to mock his clearly inebriated state, and for a moment, it feels like those eight months never happened. "I'm going to need coffee for this." He looks up at you from where he sat, “Or more booze.”

You land on coffee, your feet carrying you down the familiar path to the kitchenette.

The fluorescent lights flicker dimly at this hour, casting strange shadows across the linoleum, the lab's overpriced espresso machine hums to life under your touch, its gentle whirring a counterpoint to the distant sound of Luigi's typing.

Suddenly you're back in that first year, both of you hunched over at 3 AM, him teaching you the proper way to pull a shot: “You're murdering it, stop torturing the beans”, your quiet laughter echoing through empty halls.

"Got it.” His voice carries down the corridor, slurred but triumphant, snapping you back to present.

You return to find him illuminated by screen-glow, his tie loosened and dark hair disheveled. The paper cup lands in front of him — double shot, one packet of raw sugar.

He doesn't stir it, never has.

Instead, he tips the cup back, and you hear that familiar crunch of sugar crystals between his teeth, a sound that used to drive you crazy, until somewhere along the way it became endearing.

Still, the jumbled code taunts you from the screen, though its chaos seems less threatening now. Under Luigi's touch — steady despite the alcohol — your final project is slowly remembering its original shape.

"You should have texted sooner," Luigi murmurs, tilting his head back to collect the last sugar crystals from his cup. The movement exposes his throat, his collar wrinkled where he's been tugging at it all night.

"Well," you say, watching the way his fingers dance across the keys, each stroke precise despite his obvious intoxication, "takes a minute to swallow something as big as my pride."

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, eyes never leaving the screen where broken code is knitting itself back together under his attention.

"Oh," he huffs out a laugh, the sound low and dangerous in the quiet lab, "I've seen you swallow far bigger things before."

It strikes like summer lightning — quick, bright, and leaving the air charged in its wake. The innuendo lands with no real bite, yet you find your jaw slack, a startled laugh shaking loose from your chest.

"Kidding," Luigi says, his eyes flicking from screen to you and back again. There’s a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, softened by the alcohol but still sharp enough to cut. You wave him back to his work, grateful for the blue glow of monitors that hides your flush. "You kinda set that up perfectly, though."

He squints up at the projection where your broken code still bleeds across the wall, letting out a soft grunt of frustration at some digital roadblock. "Just mean — ya know, you could have caught me two beers deep instead of seven."

You shrug a shoulder, watching as the projection slowly crystallizes into something recognizable. "Seems you work better under such conditions."

The lie tastes metallic.

You both know the truth.

Luigi would have come if he was sober as sunrise or drowning in bourbon. Would have come with broken ribs or pneumonia or his heart barely beating. Would have traced these familiar hallways blind, deaf, or dying — because that's what the two of you do.

Have always done.

You've seen him at rock bottom, curled into himself on cold bathroom tiles at midnight, trembling hands pressed against his mouth as if he could physically hold back the pain that wracked his body. Watched him try to explain to puzzled doctors how someone so young could hurt so constantly, the frustration in his voice when they suggested it was all in his head.

You were there through the trials of medications, the nights when existence itself seemed too heavy to bear.

And you've seen him soar; standing tall in that charcoal suit that made him look older, more polished, shaking hands with tech giants who saw in him what you'd always known was there, his future spreading out before him like a golden road, brilliant and boundless.

Now he sits here, seven drinks deep but coding like he's never been clearer, and you realize that maybe both versions are equally true.

Maybe that's what makes him Luigi — the ability to contain multitudes, to be simultaneously broken and brilliant, wounded and wonderful.

He catches you watching him and raises an eyebrow, the gesture slightly delayed, which means you must have been a bit too obvious. "What?"

"Nothing.”

His fingers pause on the keys, and even through the alcoholic haze, his gaze pins you like a butterfly to cork. "No, really. What?" The words have a slight blur around their edges, but his focus is knife-sharp.

You could deflect again, but there's something about 4 AM and code that glows like dying stars that makes honesty feel less dangerous, perhaps you’re finding comfort in the fact that Luigi is drunk, although you’re stone cold sober.

"Just thinking about that time in the Thompson building bathroom." Your voice comes out softer than intended. "When you couldn't stand up, and I had to convince the janitor you had food poisoning."

He doesn't flinch from the memory like he used to.

Instead, his mouth curves into something caught between a smile and a grimace. "You told him it was from the cafeteria." His fingers resume their dance across the keyboard, but slower now. "Got the whole place investigated by health services."

"Yeah, but got us three days off while they checked fucking everything.” you remind him.

"Got me through that week," he corrects quietly, and for a moment, the mask of that brilliant-drunk-techie slips, showing the man underneath who still remembers what it feels like to be held together by nothing but someone else's faith in you.

Then he blinks, and the vulnerability is gone, replaced by that familiar crooked grin. "Though I maintain the cafeteria deserved the inspection anyway."

The projection flickers, another section of code healing itself under his touch, and you wonder if he knows you'd do it all again.

Every bathroom floor, every late-night crisis, every moment of putting him back together - you'd choose it every time.

"Speaking of which," you venture carefully, watching his hands move across the keyboard. "How's the new treatment working?"

His right shoulder shifts in what might be a shrug, but there's a shadow of a real smile playing at his mouth.

Not the sharp, defensive one he wears like armor, but something softer, more genuine. "Six months post-op and I actually slept through the night last week. First time in -“ he pauses, considering, "Fuck, I don't even remember how long."

The admission hangs in the air between you, weighted with the two years of 2 AM phone calls, of nights spent pacing, of pain medications that never quite touched the core of the problem.

Watching him try to code through hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

"Still hurts sometimes," he adds, almost absently. "But it's different now. More like background noise than a scream." His fingers still on the keyboard, and for a moment he looks almost surprised by his own words. "Guess that's what normal people feel like all the time, huh?"

The question carries an edge of wonder, like someone who's lived in darkness suddenly discovering dawn.

You watch him roll his shoulder — a gesture that used to be followed by a wince but now flows smooth and unconscious — and think about how strange it must be, learning to live without constant pain after it's become part of your identity.

"Though I kind of miss having an excuse to drunk-code at 4 AM" he adds, but you both know it's a lie.

The code blurs on the projection as silence settles between you, charged with something that's been building for ages — through bathroom floors and hospital visits, through triumphs and failures, through pain and healing.

The alcohol has stripped away Luigi’s careful boundaries, leaving raw honesty in their place.

"You know," Luigi says slowly, finally turning from the screen to face you fully, "I never thanked you properly. For all of it."

"You don't need to-"

Your diagram pulses back to life, the holographic heart rotating lazily against the wall.

Its red glow bathes the room in a surreal warmth, catching on the sharp angles of Luigi's face, softening them into something almost dreamlike.

The light flickers across his cheekbones, turns his eyes to amber, makes the whole moment feel suspended between reality and imagination.

"I do." His voice is quiet but firm, steadier than someone seven drinks deep should manage. "Because I've been thinking — now that I can actually think clearly without-“he gestures vaguely at his back, at all the years of pain, "I've been thinking about how you're the only constant. The only person who never-“ He trails off.

You lean a little closer, drawn by the vulnerability in his voice. "Never what?"

"Never saw me as broken." He turns himself toward you, and there's something desperate in his eyes, something the alcohol has finally given him the courage to show. "Never treated me like I needed fixing. Just stayed. Through everything."

Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. He takes your silence as a sign, turning back to the screen with a sharp exhale that might be resignation or relief — you're not sure which would be worse.

"Lu,” you say softly, and something in your voice makes his fingers still on the keyboard. "Look at me."

He does, slowly, like he's afraid of what he might find.

The neon bathes half his face in crimson, leaving the other half in shadow, and you see the moment his carefully constructed walls start to crumble.

"Time hasn’t changed that much about me.” you say, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning.

His breath catches audibly. You watch the impact of your words ripple across his face — surprise, understanding, and something else, something that makes your heart race against your ribs.

"Hasn’t it?” Luigi is focusing on you now, the reason he really came here now practically completed but pushed aside until further notice. “Eight months is a long time to hold onto -“ he gestures vaguely between you, as if he can’t quite say what it was. Hopeless devotion, the right person, wrong time.

“Not long enough to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“You.”

His breath catches again, a sharp inhale that seems to pull all the oxygen from the room. When he speaks, his voice is rough and ragged, “Maybe that’s the problem.” His gaze drifts down to watch as you lick your lips, and back up again. “Maybe you should have.”

[welcometogrouchland]

It's mostly the fault of poor editorial practices that B&R is so heavily misaligned continuity-wise w/ the main batman book. But walk with me for a minute:

You are Damian Wayne. You are 14 years old and have had one of the worst years of your life last year. Which is saying a lot.

Your brother, one of the people you were closest to, got shot in the head and forgot who you were. Your best friend went to space for a week and came back 3/4 years older than you, taking away your previously established dynamic and leaving you to have to bond all over again w/ a new one. You may or may not have gone wayyy too far with your new superhero team, who now all hate you, because you fucked up big time*

And worst of all, when you do try to do the right thing, you end up forced to watch Alfred, a father figure to you, the only one at your birthday that year, the person who has been so patient, loving and trusting with you, even when you probably didnt deserve it...die. you watch him die, and feel it's all your fault.

And your dad never corrects you on that last point. So you run away.

First to your mom who can tell something's up with you, she knows you don't give up that easy, you decide not to stay with her because you remembered how actually, neither of your parents are good at communicating with you despite their best efforts, so now you're 14 and flying solo.

And you do fly solo. For a while. Make new friends, new enemies. You think you're better off for it. You've got your best friend and your brother back. They're not around as much. It's fine.

And eventually your dad tells you that it's not your fault that Alfred died. Bit late but it's appreciated. Really. There's a bit of a hiccup where you get possessed by a demon and wage war against your father but after that, all in all, you two are...together again.

You start to think maybe you want to give him another chance, for the two of you to be father and son.

And in a change of pace, it works out! It's going good, mostly. He insists you go to highschool, you resist, feel like he wants you to be something that you're not (wants you to be normal), but eventually you acquiesce for your own reasons. He cheers you on at soccer and nosies around at your fundraising events with the other parents and gives you a stern talking to about your choice of girlfriend. Because he cares.

Except all the while this is going on, your dad is currently having his brain slowly taken over by an evil version of himself that he created and every time you look away he's slowly tearing your family apart (your brothers are just barely keeping it together. The ones who didn't get lobotmized that is Jesus Christ). You keep taking his side in these conflicts, for whatever reason. Maybe because he promised it would be different this time, and it isn't** and you're going to stick with him until he keeps his word for once.

But at the end of the day?

It's like your brother says. You're not the one who saves him. Broadly speaking, you've made things worse and needed others to come save you. And what else is Robin really for? You thought it was about redemption and teamwork but guess you're wrong. It's about saving your self destructive, apparently two-faced and erratic father. And you can't even do that right.

* TT (2016) by Adam Glass is a racist ooc mess, but unfortunately it's still canon so I'm referencing here, though like a lot of works authors clearly wish weren't canon but are, it's been subsequently glossed over. Win? Maybe? Or not?

** again Zdarky's characterization of Damian is so outdated as to be ooc, and considering the way he constantly and explicitly uses it to illustrate Tim's strengths as robin, I'd argue there's. Also implications there. But the batshit insanity of the main batbook compared to B&R rn is crucial for this post, so I'm attempting to justify it. This time..

[evilkitten3]

ok so like i know the reason is just. sexism but one thing that really irks me about how the post-timeskip naruto manga handled which characters became medic nin bc it makes absolutely no sense to me

sakura's decision to train under tsunade makes sense, and i love that she got a super strength power up, so no notes there, but the other teams.... yeesh

so first off, team ten. we're told that ino decided to follow sakura into mednin land to keep being rivals with her... despite that at no point factoring into their rivalry at all beforehand. ino never showed any interest in that, nor was the yamanaka clan ever mentioned to have anything to do with healing as far as i can remember. it's like going to art school to stay with your bestie when your goal is to become a dentist. why are you there. find other ways to spend time together. it also kinda goes against her family's whole thing as. the guys who do the torture stuff. and it's barely ever relevant anyway

for team ten, i think the team medic should've been shikamaru, and i think this not just bc i think it makes more sense skill-wise (something about the way the nara clan's various shadow jutsu work just screams "you need good chakra control for this" to me), but also bc i think it would make asuma's death a thousand times more painful. bc shikamaru is a slacker. he's not learning medical ninjutsu bc he wants to, he's learning it bc someone on the team has to in order to stick together. they're all chuunin now; one of them has to be a medic. them's the rules. but he doesn't really care that much, even when he is trying to learn, and he's so used to being smart enough to not have to pay attention in lessons anyway that he's not prepared for classes that require his full focus. and then asuma dies and shikamaru is doomed to spend the rest of his fucking life wondering if he could've saved him by paying just a little more attention to those medical ninjutsu lessons (he could not have (but he'll never know for sure))

team eight makes some sense, since giving the girl who struggles with fighting the healing job isn't exactly out of nowhere, but i do feel it was the lazy choice. kiba already had a sister involved in the medical business, even if she deals more with animals, so he could've started learning from her and found that he liked it. plus kiba's goal is to be hokage, and the current hokage is a mednin, so it's not like it wouldn't support his goal. or shino could do it; would add another layer to his character. hinata works fine but. it's just not a very interesting development imo

but what really gets me is team gai. good freaking grief. out of every single team, team gai was the one with the most obvious choice. bc there was only one choice. lee can't do any kind of ninjutsu, and tenten's only real backstory is that her chakra control isn't good enough for her to be a medic nin. so it had to be neji. canon establishes that every team has to have a medic; this is a policy tsunade got passed even before she became hokage, so no way in hell is she going back on it now.

moreover, neji becoming a medical ninja - especially if hiashi encouraged it - would show some development for the hyuuga clan maybe starting to suck a bit less. bc as a medic, neji would be bound by oath to stay alive for as long as possible. imagine a world in which hizashi came back and hiashi was able to tell his brother that not only was their family starting to change, but his son had chosen a path that would prevent him from ever following in his father's footsteps. it would be the first step (of many) to show that the hyuuga clan was freeing itself from its own bullshit.

also it would've made sakura catching the zetsu pretending to be neji a thousand times funnier. like that's her coworker. they've shared shifts at the hospital together. she's seen neji drink vodka straight from a bottle and then crash on her couch after they got out of a twelve-hour surgery on the fucking dumbass chuunin who managed to step on his own boobytrap. she knows him.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Gate - Thus the JSDF Fought There! Girl Models Candidates

Fuck... Fuck man, I figured there might be one or two good girls from this but dammit... 17... I managed to narrow it down to 17. Not gonna like, mostly it's cuz I can't resist Bunny Girls, Knights or Oriental girl designs.

But yeah this would essentially be if the anime happened in Remnant, the gate opens in either Mistral or Vale, and the invasion happens. Itami gets the best ending he could ask for, having to do nothing but escort people away and to buy his manga and collectables.

Why Because Jaune (Canon but way older Post Salem) is there, Itami get's to focus on his Otaku lifestyle just like he wanted. Meanwhile Jaune is fighting a small army of medieval looking invaders, one-sidely winning them... And then the Police force and other Huntsman get involved.

So yeah stuff pans out similarly to the anime in that regard but instead of a military force Huntsman are what they face, one men armies worth dozens of men with power that cannot be explained and technology that can hardly be fathomed.

The benefit is that Remnant for all it's faults is actually more united then earth's forces were. And so it's Atlas leading the charge but with Huntsman from each Kingdom representing Vale, Vacuo and Mistral.

Jaune, Nora and Ren being obvious choices, Team RWBY wouldn't be able to go for diplomatic reasons (Weiss can't go cuz she's the SDC's head, and Blake cuz she's leading Menagerie with Yang) Ruby wouldn't be able to go because Remnant still needs Silver-Eyes fro Grimm.

Jaune would be put in charge of a team of soldiers from Atlas, Shino Kuribayashi and Mari Kurokawa.

Jaune would simply put it go into sorta a blood rage once he see's Noriko Mochizuki, a Mistralian enslaved and raped, and also at see residents of their own world treated the same (Tyuule) He would proceed to kill Zorzal and only be stopped from beheading Molt due to Ren's intervention.

I can see him taking both Noriko and Tyuule with him (The later surprised and feeling extremely conflicted) Which of course would lead to Jaune eventually meeting Delilah as she tries to attack and kill Tyuule still under the impression she betrayed her race.

Jaune would also grow close to the Rose Knights, not helping but wanting to help them become more then a mere order under a corrupt kingdom.

Okay... Lets see.

Giselle, Hamilton Uno Ror, Nanami Kuribayashi, Noriko Mochizuki and Shandy Gaff Marea would be made later...

[thatshadowcomic]

Relationship Dynamics/timeline

Previous | Next

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

This will appear in the comic, but it plays a part/context to his relationship. It's kinda spolier but not really, so skip is optional. This might change as the comic is created!

Pre Doom: Shadow x rouge failure

Rouge's positive influence on Shadow can't be understated, but Rouge digs too deep, even manipulating and attempting to use GUN methods on shadow to help him. This triggers the memory of Maria's shooting. This gruesome image creates confusion and the lack of certainty makes him suspicious of Rouge, given her job and connection to GUN. It was a GUN solider in his memory. It causes him to close off from her, and he becomes directionless. Shadow wonders aimlessly, in an attempt to find something familiar. Rouge, trying to maintain their connection, becomes more of an enabler than a partner, coddling him as he continues inward. Eventually they realize their dynamic is turning them into the worst part of themselves, and they return to being friends in an attempt to rebuild what was lost. Rouge offers shadow a place at GUN, maybe an agent under the Govt, or a bed at her new home. Shadow denies them, still unsure who to trust. This feeling is familiar and he longs for a connection, a purpose...

Doom: manipulation and self resolve

Click "Shadow's story" for shadow's canon lore Click "prologue" for my headcanon lore, post "shadow the hedgehog" (2006). Black Doom's return starts nov, 2005 and concludes march, 2006. The Toll takes place 1 year later, late feb 2007.

Post Doom: Fight with Sonic

Shadow joins GUN, much to Sonic's disappointment. He claims Shadow needs freedom and time to rediscover himself and should join team sonic. This ends in an argument, with Shadow deciding to be firm: "Are you joining because you want to, or because you think you have to? I just don't want you to be stuck under another hive mind's control and lose sight of yourself, because you're scared to face the world. You're not alone, by the way, you got friends, you got me--I think what you need--" "ENOUGH! We are not friends and you do not get to tell me what I need. Thank you for saving me, sonic, but I don't owe you anything, but I do owe the world... my debt will be paid through doing good with GUN, and that is my choice. When next we meet, it will be business or for the sake of the world. Goodbye." Sonic takes this very seriously and seems to spend a long time alone from everyone. Neither discuss the argument with anyone. Shadow often visits Amy's cafe because Sonic avoids it. She gradually wears him down and they become surprisingly close, like siblings. He begins to mull over the sonic situation with her, asking her advice and generally obsessing with sonic.

Nearly 1 year later: Fear of the public.

Shadow works for GUN, but the public views him as a fraud, a ticking time bomb and a weapon. GUN has him under media/social lock down, with his travels and events planned to better his report with the public. Shadow requires GUN's permission for most events. After being denied or having the permissions be granted AFTER the event, Shadow stops asking. He becomes withdrawn and restless, even to Amy. Shadow begins memory hypnosis and general trauma therapy to truly move on, but this only intensifies his unrest as November comes around... Rouge is unsure how to help him. She's fearful he will become defensive again and shut her out for good. (Omega doesn't understand these complicated emotions well enough to assist beyond offering his own views on his own experiences.) --------------------------------------

[blessphemy]

Heehee, I'm really enjoying the mystery of all the seemingly disconnected things you tag as 'translation state.' You're making me want to read it <3

i'm hoping to create my translation state quotes hall of fame post soon, this book is actually a situational comedy masquerading as a political thriller star crossed romance with alien cannibalism garnish. you know, normal stuff.

i would recommend reading Ancillary Justice first though! first book in the Imperial Radch trilogy. then the rest of the trilogy, Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy. i am dead serious i think the Imperial Radch trilogy is a modern sci fi classic, building on the sci fi canon that comes before it in such a fantastic way. Ancillary Justice is an absolutely beautifully put together work, master craft shit. no notes. (I do have notes on the structure of Translation State.) i have literally studied AJ's structure like I'm trying to dissect it and it's insanely clean. I can only think of like, maybe 1 thing I'd like to ask the author about regarding her choice of how she executed the ending. Leckie did you have Breq shoot the gun without public witnesses because it would've fucked up the logistics of the rest of a trilogy? part of me can't help but think the ending of AJ would've worked better as a final public showdown and it highkey felt like that's what it was building toward until—but on the other hand the ending as written mirrors the hidden situation with Awn so perfectly—anyway it makes me rabid.

GOD oh my god that scene with Lieutenant Awn (iykyk) when Awn dropped her mic on Anaander and then Anaander dropped her mic on Awn and I knew what was coming next and the whole arc of the book all clicked together right in the beating heart of the story I about screamed I had to put the book down and pace it out for a while before picking it back up.

the Imperial Radch trilogy punched its entire fist through my brain and i never truly recovered. it was everything i wanted. if you let me start talking about it i won't shut up for about 30-45 minutes minimum. it can be a little dense and I gather the tone/style is not for everyone but boy fuckin' howdy does it hit for the people it hits. every single character is my problematic fave. every single character is fucking unhinged in their own special way. <3 (except Queter. who may have built a bomb but she did nothing wrong ever in her life.)

Provenance and Translation State are in the same universe as the trilogy, but follow (mostly) different casts of characters. i suppose you could read Translation State first if you feel like a rebel, and I'd be fascinated to hear how it reads without the prior context. but also I really think it would land better if you read the trilogy first.

[mafuyussweater]

My Favorite Bingqiu (Bingyuan) fics

Be sure to read tags!

Leave kudos and comments for the authors!

Enjoy ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ (to be added to as a read more)

lowly disciple's self insert fanfic system by:

Allpiesforourown

Mature • canon divergence

Airplane and Cucumber-bro figure out they are transmigrators earlier on. Shen Qingqius disciples are STICKY. Luo Binghe writes self insert fanfic about his Shizun.

☆彡

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This by: Prudabaga

Explicit • Canon Divergence (fix-it?)

Shen Qingqiu can't help that his dreams all seem to revolve around sleeping with the protagonist. It doesn't make him gay. He hardly has a choice even if he really does enjoy them.. anyone would!

☆彡

Tie Up the Broken Threads of That Old Dream by: Ehann

Mature • Canon Divergence (fix-it)

Shen Qingqiu self detonates and causes the system to go haywire. He wakes up in the past with no system at all and finds Luo Binghe fresh out of the Abyss. He is determined to make things right this time.

☆彡

Remnants of Gold by: Wemmye

Teen+ • Canon Divergence? (No Transmigrators)

Su Xiyan still takes the poison but somehow she manages to survive. Her and Binghe grow up as farmers and she helps her son hide his demon side with a jade pendant. She really doesn't trust cultivators but Shen Yuan, one of the two peak lords of Qing Jings peak, convinces her to let Luo Binghe learn cultivation from him.

☆彡

Tarnished Gold by: Prim_The_Amazing

Mature • Canon Divergence (in a major way)

Shen Yuan transmigrates into the body of Gongyi Xiao and meets a post Abyss Luo Bingge who wants to take his place as Head Disciple.

☆彡

The Divide Between Autumn and Spring by: sareyen

Mature • AU

Shen Yuan transmigrates into a disciple of Qing Jing who shares his same name. He is out of his depth when he realizes this body has a damaged core and also that he is well before canon PIDW with all of the future peak lords being just young teens! He manages to make lots of friends, becomes a beloved head disciple, and saves a few people too.

(This is angsty y'all but oml this is a MASTERPIECE -with a happy end dw)

☆彡

If Marriage Was an Olympic Sport by: anatheme

Explicit • Wife Plot (set during the Abyss arc)

Shen Qingqiu accidentally sets of a "wife hunt" that requires 12 participants to hunt down the "wife". He has from sunrise to sunset to run for his life to avoid being forced into marriage.

☆彡

safe and stranded by: anatheme

Mature• Modern era-ish (fix-it)

Shen Qingqiu self detonation causes the system to glitch and it sends him (and Binghe) to his old life and he has 3 days to experience living in the modern world again before he will be sent back to his body that was fall towards his death.

☆彡

picture you by: wnter_autumn

Explicit • Modern Au

Shen Yuan sleeps with his friend Luo Binghe and freaks out about it because he is straight... right?

☆彡

dreaming you the same sun in a different place by: JRaylin441

Explicit • Reverse Transmigration

Shen Qingqiu disappears and Luo Binghe gets a notification from the System offering a side quest called In Another Life that requires him to find his husband in his original body in the modern world. Unfortunately his husband has no memory of living in PIDW!

☆彡

Stealing Sun From the Flowers by: CherrieBabie

Explicit • Canon Divergence

Shen Yuan wakes up in his mushroom body with no memory of ever being Shen Qingqiu and no access to a system so he thinks he lucked out! Unfortunately as he is roaming around as a rogue cultivator he gets captured in the Huan Hua territory and meets Luo Binghe himself who is really upset that this guy looks really similar to his dead Shizun.

☆彡

Being a 30-Year-Old Virgin Made Shen Yuan a Wizard! By: stormsonjupiter

Explicit • Cherry Magic Au

The Cherry Magic we all love but make it Bingyuan!

☆彡

if you don't have your own boyfriend, rented is fine by: nyoomerr

Mature • Modern Au

Luo Bingge searches for his own nice Shizun and ends up in the modern world with Shen Yuan who is kind of rude and only looks a little bit like Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan thinks Bingge is a poor cosplayer and asks to hire him as his pretend boyfriend to show appreciation for the real authentic cosplay.. that's all!

☆彡

Life is (not) a Hallmark Movie by: mellicindi

Teen+ • Modern Au

Shen Yuan watches this one ASMR cooking channel and finds the video needing some improvements but the guys voice is really really nice! Then he ends up at his friend Shang Qingyuan apartment and sees a familiar countertop...

☆彡

Tell Me Your Heart Doesn't Race for a Hurricane or a Burning Building by: Bluethursday

Explicit • Modern (stalker Au)

Shen Yuan opens his door to a handsome stranger who says "Hi, are you Shen Yuan? I'm Luo Binghe, your new live-in caretaker"

☆彡

Mightier than Waves by: bedesbummie

Explicit • Modern Au (kinda stalker ish)

Shen Yuan goes to pick up his sisters backpack from the rec center and when no one seems to be coming to help him, he searches for an employee and runs into shirtless and overly handsome Luo Binghe. After that day he can't help but find himself back at the rec center to get another glimpse of Binghe. Under the guise of wanting to improve his physical health.

☆彡

a thousand jars by:tagteamme

Explicit • Post Canon

Shen Qinghua finds himself feeling incredibly jealous. There is porn. That's the fic (it's so good)

☆彡

Starstruck by: Camorra

Explicit • Modern Au (musicians)

Shen Yuan, who is known for making videos playing bass in accompaniment to Luo Binghe's songs, gets a message from someone saying they could get him in touch with famous musician Luo Binghe. At first he doesn't believe it but then he receives a photo of his bandmates taking a selfie and decides to not let this opportunity slip by.

☆彡

Halasana by: The Feels Whale (miscella)

Explicit • Modern Au (yoga)

Luo Binghe (known slut) makes a bet with his coworker Sha Hualing that he will stop sleeping with his hot clients to prove he doesn't /need/ sex. And then it all goes to shit when Shen Yuan comes waltzing in for their one-on-one session.

☆彡

# KissingTheHomiesGoodnight by: knothim

Explicit • Modern Au

Shen Yuans "no homo" mental gymnastics his way into messing around with Luo Binghe using the dumbest logic only he could come up with.

☆彡

A Little Bit To The Left by: miixz

Teen+ • Canon Divergence

A system error sends Shen Yuan to transmigrate into a random canon fodder Bai Zhan Peak disciple named Shi Yuan instead of Shen Qingqiu.

☆彡

We Are Not Wise by: Boomchick, Suzoomie

Teen+ • Canon Divergence (Utena inspired soul swords)

Shen Yuan transmigrates into a version of PIDW where cultivators form swords made of their very own souls. He is just a child when he runs into the middle of Shen Qingqiu battling a demonic creature and in order to protect them both Shen Qingqiu makes very horrible/controversial decision to pull Shen Yuans sword out of his body.

This is how Shen Yuan finds himself dragged to Qing Jing peak in order to keep his silence.

☆彡

when the glass shatters (which me do you see?) by: Quirmzi

Gen • Post Canon (de-aging)

Shen Qingqiu encounters trouble on a night hunt and ends up back in his (Shen Yuans!!) body at 6 years old. He has no idea who anyone is or why they can't get him his parents but thankfully at least Shang Qinghua understands him.

(All the peak lords (except one) gushes over how cute Shen Yuan is)

☆彡

A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk Into the Bamboo House by: VeryCharismaticDragon

Teen+ • Time Travel (fix-it)

Over a year after Shen Qingqius death, Luo Binghe seeks out Shang Qinghua for another way to bring back the love of his life. All he needs to do is find a special mirror that brings you to the day you first met your soulmate. When he wakes up at 14 he is a bit confused but as more pieces of the puzzle are revealed, he learns the love of his life is way more complex than he ever expected.

☆彡

The Moon's Beloved Shadow by: mofumofu

Explicit • Canon Divergence

There is a well kept secret between the peak lords on Cang Qiong mountain. Two Shens run Qing Jing peak but only one has ever been seen outside of their bamboo house. Shen Yuan is very confused to wake up in the body of the Shen Twin who was never talked about in PIDW. With no knowledge of the past, he navigates an overly protective, doting Shen Jiu.

☆彡

Uprooted by: lethean

Mature • Canon Divergence

This world of PIDW is very different from the one Shen Yuan knew. He wakes up in the body of a character he can't remember but soon learns it's a minor villain that was possibly framed and woefully misunderstood. He just barely escapes an early death and finds himself being saved by none other than Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan themselves.

☆彡

Notes on the changing of a narrative by: HanaSheralHaminail

Explicit • Canon Divergence

The system demands Shen Qingqiu must fatally wound Luo Binghe before pushing him into the Abyss. The consequences for not complying are fatale. At least he can try and help Luo Binghe make it through with a little more knowledge on just what dangers he will encounter and hope it doesn't hurt too much.

☆彡

i just wanna be your shadow by: bibliomaniac

Explicit • Modern Au (inspired by the manhua "I Want To Be A Big Baddie")

Luo Binghe can read people's thoughts which means he doesn't trust most people. It used to be just his mom who he trusted but since arriving at the Shen estate, he met an interesting boy who was supposed to be Shen Qingqiu but his thoughts (and system?) reveal he is actually a boy named Shen Yuan who seems to be forced into becoming Luo Binghe's biggest bully.

(This is a freak4freak bingqiu! They are creepy and obsessed with each other fr. Shen Yuan likes seeing people in pain even though he feels disgusted with himself about it and Luo Binghe is an incurable M)

☆彡

[flutterbyoz]

It's 2024 and still the Rick/Jessie discourse is still making an appearance 🙄

It's something that seems to pop up every now and again and just becomes another excuse for people to voice their dislike for Michonne and Richonne. I get everyone has their own opinion, though many of these opinions have little to no evidence to back them up, but let's just make one thing clear, Rick loves Michonne. He loved her when he met Jessie, he loved her when Jessie cut his hair, he loved her when he and Jessie shared that awkward garage kiss and when he chopped off Jessie's hand. He loved Michonne then and he loves her now, more than life itself. Had Jessie lived he still would have fallen in love and married Michonne.

Some people like to invalidate Richonne anyway they can, even grasping onto crumbs like Jessie, but in the end none of it matters because Jessie was never supposed to be anything more than a plot device, all she did was delay the inevitable. The believability of Rick having feelings for her was dashed pretty quickly given the heart eyes he gave Michonne every time he saw her and I'm sorry but no one can compete against Andy and Danai in the chemistry department.

If you can't see the electric chemistry between Rick and Michonne/Andy and Danai then I do feel a little for you because you're missing out on experiencing what I believe is the best love story to have ever graced the screen.

I do sometimes wonder if I'm watching the same show because the way some people interpret storylines and character interactions can be so polar opposite that it makes me think that they must just be purposefully ignoring the facts just to make it fit their opinion. I'm all for differing opinions but when the facts go completely against those opinions and clearly prove them wrong then it's not so much someone giving an opinion as them just saying whatever just to arouse a response. And yes I know I'm feeding into that with this post but I just needed to say it and sadly I think we all know the reason for most of this dislike and hate towards Michonne and Richonne.

Michonne is not Rick's second choice, she's not his third choice, she's not someone he got with just for the physical side of a relationship or because Jessie and Lori died. Michonne is his first, last and forever choice, the love of his life, the mother of his children, the woman he'd kill and die for, she is his entire world. This has been confirmed multiple times throughout TWD and TOWL, there are no ifs or buts about it, all of this is canon and fact and ignoring it doesn't make it any less true. I always have this thought that if you mentioned Jessie to Rick now it would take him a moment to remember who she was.

This ended up being longer than I thought but when I began writing I just kept going! People will always find a way to disrespect and invalidate Rick and Michonne's relationship, no matter what canon tells them but their negativity changes nothing. They can have as many opinions as they wish but Rick and Michonne will still be married, living happily with their children and being more in love than ever and if we are lucky enough to see them again then that will be shown over and over again.

Forever and always it will be Rick and Michonne

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Marinette asked Tikki and Plagg what was Gabriel's exact Wish in the London special and they said he gave up his life for Nathalie's and that was it, nothing more to it. So the equivalent of the Wish was acquired, a life for a life, and nothing else negative nedeed to happen in order to balance out the universe after Gabriel's Wish according to the established lore. In Origins Gabriel wouldn't have been willing to give up his own life, which means he would've sacrificed an innocent person's life to revive Emilie. I guess the S5 finale is considered a win for the heroes according to the writers' own words cause they prevented Gabriel from sacrificing an innocent person for his Wish (as Gabriel can't be considered as such) even they couldn't prevent his Wish.

I guess that's why they walked back on reviving Emilie cause 1 life for 2 wouldn't fly (as this one's already stretching it considering that Gabriel was mortally wounded by the Cataclysm when he used his life up as an offering for the Wish) and I think the writers didn't want to bother with more consequences for the Wish.

(Post that spawned this ask)

I have yet to see the London special, but I took a look at the transcript and you're right. That does seem to be the official word:

Marinette: What did Gabriel Agreste wish for? Plagg: (sadly) He... gave up his life. Tikki:(sadly) In return for Nathalie's, knowing she was gravely ill. Nathalie:(shocked) He... did that?

*clears throat*

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? That's it??? That's the wish??? The entire universe was rewritten so that a domestic terrorists didn't need to suffer the consequences of her own fully informed choice?

Gabriel: I told you never to use the Peacock Miraculous! Nathalie: I had no choice, sir. I had to save you! (coughs) Gabriel: It's damaged. It's way too dangerous. Nathalie: I want to help you all the way to the end. (smiles) Gabriel: (glares at her but then smiles) Thank you, Nathalie. (puts his hand on top of hers) For everything.

Don't get me wrong, Nathalie living was obviously part of the wish, I just expected more. If you're going to have the villain win, then go big! (I will die on the hill that, if they wanted to "redeem" Gabriel via a wish, then the wish should have been to make the sentikids real humans.) Then again, this does fall perfectly in line with things like the season three and four finals. Something major that should have changed everything, but that ends up having almost no meaningful impact on the story.

Having an official word on this doesn't actually change my stance on the wish, though. If Gabriel making a wish is not a massive no, then everything about the story was pointless in my eyes. If Gabriel was willing to change his mind in his moment of triumph after a season where he was at his absolute worst, then I do not believe that he would have been unwilling to change back in Origins. That's simply not the story that the writers told.

Based on what canon actually gave us, Gabriel would have been willing to change his mind at any time so long as he saw that video of Emilie saying "don't revive me." That video wasn't even directed at him personally! It was an incredibly tepid plea for Nathalie to not mourn her:

Emilie: (from the video recording) Don't be sad, Nathalie. You know that I had agreed to it, that Gabriel never forced me to do anything. But he should never try to bring me back. No one should have their life stolen from them because of the mistake that we made. You must continue to be happy, even though I'm no longer here. As long as there's love, it is possible. Adrien will be well-surrounded. He'll have you, Nathalie, and he'll have his father if Gabriel agrees to give up on his madness... and on me. (Gabriel breaks down.) Adrien... will have all the love he needs to be happy. Bug Noire: And that's what happened. Adrien has learned to live, and built his own happiness while cherishing the memory of his mother. She would be proud of him. Gabriel: (whilst his shaky hands reach for the paused image of Emilie on the phone) I... just can't live without her. (sobs) I loved her so much. When she left me, the world shut down around me. I still remember her smile the day Adrien was born. When I placed him in her arms, for so long, we've been thinking that we would never be able to have a child. Adrien was our little miracle. (voice breaks) Everything was so... perfect, until Emilie became ill. She is— She was right: Adrien was not alone. He had Nathalie and me. I've ruined everything. Nathalie's about to disappear, (the tip of his index finger shatters) and so am I. Adrien will have no one left.

If this lackluster moment could change his mind, then lots of things would have because there's no way in hell that the video was new information. It's even arguable the video didn't change his mind. At least, not the way I'd expect if we're going for a positive, meaningful message. Gabriel still doesn't want to live without Emilie. What we see in this scene and the official word of god is that Gabriel picked death over a life without Emilie:

Émilie will not be brought back to life as Gabriel has finally mourned her death, which Adrien has already done for a long time. But Gabriel cannot live without her and decides to die with her.

I would not call this good, meaningful growth for Gabriel. Nor would I call it a positive, uplifting message for children. I'd call it a horrifying and disgusting message for anyone who has ever suffered intense grief from the loss of a loved one, but let's not dwell on that too much. Instead, let's keep our focus on what Gabriel's choice means for the overall story.

The word of god and the implications of this scene are also that talking it out was all anyone ever needed to do:

In the end, it is not violence or strength that wins, but people talking to each other and opening up about their feelings. It is when people are not subject to their emotions, but instead try to understand them to think better and take the right decisions.

If this is true and it's okay for Gabriel to pick suicide over a life without Emilie, then all of Paris pointlessly suffered because of a simple communication issue. Ladybug and Chat Noir should have just asked Gabriel what his wish was, told him that he'd have to sacrifice himself or a willing third party to make that work, and then let him decide if he wanted to switch places with Emilie. Alternatively, he could have sacrificed himself for some innocent like a cancer patient and gone to be with his wife in death in that person's place. Same ending, just with the bonus of saving someone from cancer! You cannot convince me that he wouldn't go for it based on what we see in canon.

As a quick final note, letting Gabriel make the wish not only ruins the story, it also ruins the lore because we have to actually consider what the wish does now. As you said in the ask, it doesn't make any sense. If Gabriel is literally moments away from dying, then how can he give up his life for Nathalie's? And why do you need to rewrite the universe when the wish is something so minor? How does rewriting the universe make the wish come true? What actually changed? Did Nathalie now never use the peacock? Did her illness just switch to Gabriel? If so, how? I have so many questions that I know will never be answered because they don't exist. The lore is simply not strong enough to hold up to up any level of scrutiny.

[saintsenara]

on ghosts

this question was a postscript to an ask i got about some crack ships:

JK Rowling kind of presents ghosts as pathetic. Is this another indication of her lack of empathy and compassion?

and the answer would have been a bit out of place in a post which was otherwise about whether it's plausible to ship hermione and moaning myrtle... so it's here instead, being my least favourite type of meta, because it requires me to do jkr defending...

the presentation of ghosts in canon - as unhappy, unimpressive, petty, cowardly, annoying, and forever in a state of arrested development - is inextricable from the fact that the harry potter series is for children. there's literally no way to think about them without this being front and centre.

children's literature is inherently didactic - that is, it teaches its readers how to understand and conduct themselves within the world. children's literature therefore has a duty of care towards its audiences that literature written for adults doesn't.

[let me be very clear though that this lack of responsibility only applies to the texts, to the stories themselves. authors writing for adults have plenty of responsibilities to their audience when it comes to their personal conduct around their relationship with fame and with fans. a little topical addendum there...]

above all, when they're coming up with plots and discussing characters' motivations, children's authors need to think about what their audience might be going through in their everyday lives. and they are then obliged to approach these things in their writing in a way which helps their audience make sense of their experiences in a way which supports, encourages, and comforts them.

this doesn't mean that children's literature can't or shouldn't approach hard topics, not in the slightest. but responsible children's literature has to do this in a way that doesn't cause a child reading to incur any additional harm.

and one of humanity's defining childhood milestones is coming to understand what it means when somebody dies.

it was jkr's job to assume that any child reading the series might have recently experienced or face imminently experiencing the death of someone they loved. it was also her job to assume that there were children reading the series who were facing the prospect of dying themselves.

it would have been breathtakingly irresponsible for her to present the act of dying as anything other than natural, neutral [not something which only happens to bad people, for example], unavoidable, and irreversible. it would have been similarly irresponsible for her to present accepting one's own death as anything other than the right choice - a reasonable and rational decision - which is made by people who are brave, clever, curious, loving, and adventurous.

and since her story has ghosts - which is an entirely reasonable worldbuilding decision for someone writing children's fantasy to make - it would have been similarly irresponsible for her to portray those ghosts' relationship with their deaths as anything other than pathetic.

let's imagine, for a second, that sirius had chosen to become a ghost at the end of order of the phoenix. it's not implausible from a watsonian characterisation standpoint, we all know that sirius would have done pretty much anything if it meant not abandoning harry...

but it would have been inexcusable from a doylist one. what would it do to a child who'd just lost their own [god]father to be told that someone who really loved them would have stayed behind?

instead, if we keep the child-reader's welfare in mind, the immediate aftermath of sirius' death is handled really well:

harry explicitly states that sirius would have left the veil if that were possible, and the fact that he doesn't isn't because he doesn't want to, but because he's dead and therefore can't.

harry veers between being distraught, angry, confused, and apathetic. he lashes out. he breaks things. he wants to die. he struggles to find enjoyment in things. he doesn't want to be around other people, except for the times when he does. he doesn't want to talk about sirius. he blames himself for his death.

hagrid acknowledges that sirius didn't want to die, but recognises this doesn't change the fact that he still did.

harry tries to talk to sirius through the mirror and is unable to, because he's dead.

harry asks nearly-headless nick if sirius will come back as a ghost. nick says no, and praises sirius for that decision, saying emphatically that he chose to remain behind because he was a coward, that he regrets his decision, and that those who accept death are happier than those who choose a ghost's half-life.

luna tells harry that grief becomes more manageable as it gets older - even though it doesn't vanish, that it doesn't have to be endured alone, that talking about it with other people is comforting, that the dead are never truly gone [whether the reader wishes to interpret that as meaning the dead are never gone if they're remembered, or as meaning the living and the dead will be reunited in the afterlife], and that it's fine to still take pleasure in things even when you're grieving.

the series also emphasises again and again that not progressing in grief - not learning how to integrate it into everyday life, not growing alongside it, letting it consume you and keep you stuck and stop you enjoying things - is dangerous. which is also a really responsible message for children to receive.

from an adult's perspective, i think it's fine for readers to quibble with the way that the series presents accepting death as obvious and rational. it - like every other example of choice in the series - is presented as an individual one between two binary options - one which is good and correct, one which is bad and wrong - in which broader societal or institutional forces are irrelevant.

for example, voldemort's fear of death, which the series is clear is inextricable from his enormous, corrosive grief over his mother, is presented as something he just decides to do, a wrong, bad, and unsympathetic choice he deliberately makes, rather than a choice influenced by the circumstances of his early life.

this is - unsurprisingly - a genre thing again [children's literature villains have to be the embodiment of evil, they're not supposed to be particularly complex] but jkr does seem to be someone who thinks in this individualistic, binary way about quite a lot of things, gender very much included, and i do think that's worth adult readers bearing in mind.

and so we can certainly decide to examine the decisions made by the series' ghosts through these more nuanced lenses, and to consider the decision not to move on as something which - yes - clearly does have an element of cowardice to it [why else would you accept eternity in a liminal state rather than moving on to something definite?], but which is broader and more messy and more complex and contradictory than canon presents it as.

but we can only do this if we acknowledge that the doylist text did its job properly. the child-reader needed to be left in no doubt that it's good there are no ghosts in their life. and they are.

[weebsinstash]

Ok no I'm not done being weird yet, here's another idea for the marriage canon event stuff

Miguel and other Spiders are getting on your ass about, "oh, how old are you now? Why aren't you looking for a husband yet? Why are you spending so much time here?" And are, you know, your friends who love you and for your own good are trying to get you to complete your canon so you, you know, LIVE, but the way you see it is, being forced to do something like that and sacrifice yourself like that isn't living. You're not going to actively pursue and seek out a relationship, you want one to happen naturally, and nothing has felt natural to you and you're afraid of being hurt like that, of being rejected, of opening yourself up to someone and not being good enough, but, O'Hara and the Society don't really want to hear that. It's escalating over time. Little comments here and there, people randomly interjecting their personal anecdotes about their family and their kids into the conversation, "oh this is just like when me and Mary Jane--" "oh my kid loves this flavor, she gets so excited, I like to be naughty and get her these as a treat"

So you reach the point where you're fed up. This is so massively fucking inappropriate of them. There's no "set age" for this kind of thing so why are they harassing you like this, acting like, oh, you gotta hurry and pursue shit right now, it's for your own good? It's just pissing you off and pushing you away. You love traveling to different dimensions and exploring new places and experiencing things that are literally out of this world but if the trade-off for that is constantly being badgered with this stupid narrative of having to sacrifice yourself, you'll happily go home and break canon and die, because at least you'll be truly living and making a choice

So anyways to get to the meat of this post: you've decided you're leaving the Spider Society and you're not going to talk to any of these bitches anymore, just haven't fully decided on when, but like, you're literally thinking within the next week, but you're still, there. And one day you're in the lobby, trying to stand around because you're supposed to go on some sort of stupid assignment, Peter B and Jess with you, the parents talking about baby stuff as you roll your eyes and Peter suspiciously needs you to keep holding Mayday until you're literally refusing, "just put her on the ground or something, you let her climb on walls and shit anyways"

And because you're in the lobby, this big open space with tons of people passing through, suddenly in walks Miguel with. Another Miguel, completely unrelated to the mission you and the others are about to do, kind of just bumping into each other as they pass through. Miguel2 just got scouted by his counterpart that he met during chasing an anomaly, and they're getting to know each other, and at some point Miguel2 is like "can my wife come too 🥺👉👈 she's also a Spider and I can't be here without her" and everyone is a little confused because there's supposed to be the whole only 'one Spider per dimension' rule besides like family, like Peter and Mayday, and you'll just never guess whose alternate universe variant is his wife :) another you comes bounding in wearing casual baggy clothes but looks so radiant and happy, all "hubby 🥰" as she kisses her husband, you're just awkwardly sending glances to 'your' Miguel as you two are, understandably feeling awkward because, you're, coworkers, and here are two people who look exactly like you being all lovey dovey "princesa 🥰" "guapito 🥰"

This other you just seems so, VIBRANT and she's introducing herself and shaking hands and she sees Peter B, "oh my god you have a baby, I'm so happy for you, she's so cute!" And she's hugging him, and you watch Peter B's eyes go kind of wide and he looks down, "OH, you're like--" and Other You just kind of laughs and parts her coat, showing off her rounded tummy, "haha yeah, there's a baby in there! Number 3, we're so excited! 🥰" and you're just. Simultaneously feeling some sort of fucked up combination of the most visceral and extreme discomfort you've ever felt in your entire life and also some kind of. Envy. Because she has everything you thought you didn't want and she seems so, SO fucking happy, with a husband who loves her, she clearly loves her babies, and she's being accepted by all of your friends instantly, like they're all gathered around talking as you're just, basically on the outside of the circle, actively putting up distance, only standing around because, uh hey guys weren't we supposed to be doing something--

Your skin is crawling as Other You uses her own watch from her husband to zip back to her own dimension and comes back with her babies on each hip, twins that she's just so happy to introduce to her new friends, who are SUPPOSED to be YOUR friends, "THIS one is Gabriella, and this one is Gabriel. Aren't they so cute? 🥰 theyre both so chunky they almost killed me but it was SO worth it" And once she realizes you're you, or, you're her, she wants to immediately chat you up and be buddy-buddy and goes to hand one of her babies to you and you. Refuse. Absolutely refuse. Suddenly you're the pariah of the group, both Miguels are sending you looks. Why are you being so fucking rude? Just put your arms out??? But you won't. You're just, soul-suckingly disgusted by this entire scenario. Not only is it putting an unspoken pressure onto you, but, seeing this other you be so fucking happy AND accomplishing all the things your "friends" have been badgering you about makes you feel SO indescribably insecure

Fine. Let it be like a revolving door. Another you enters Spider Society, one of you leaves. But you're so bitter and hurt you can't help but get in a jab at her, wanting to tarnish her "fake" happiness, feeling so personally hurt and offended by her very presence and existence in the room. "Hey so wouldn't your babies also be Spiders and have to suffer through the canon events too? And since you don't have any other family members, your kids' canon events might be YOU or Miguel dying? Aren't you glad you gave birth to your kids only to die and leave them without a mom and dad and forever doom them to a narrative where they can never make their own choices and are cosmically destined to be unhappy just because YOU wanted a cute baby? Sorry I guess I'm just built different. Hey remember how when we were little girls and we used to feel like mom only gave birth to us because she wanted someone who would love her and we resented her for bringing us into the world to have such a harsh life, aren't you so happy that's EXACTLY how your kids are going to feel about YOU?"

Mom!You is instantly bursting into tears and holding her little belly for comfort as her husband looks ready to tear you to ribbons, FURIOUS, all the healthy people in the room understandably disappointed and upset with you, like what the FUCK girl, meanwhile you're opening up a portal to your home dimension and just chucking your watch straight into the floor. "Keep this. I won't be coming back" while everyone is kind of dismissive of how truly upset you are, kind of just like "come on, don't be like this 🙄" like you're throwing a tantrum when in actuality you're going home and are seriously considering selling Osborne or Doc Ock all of your radioactive eggs. You'll always be YOU before you're a Spider, and if they want to force you to put The Job above yourself your entire life, they're dead wrong.

Meanwhile after you leave, pulling each other aside for privacy, Miguel2 is asking your Miguel why he's risking breaking his own canon by not wife-ing you up yet and comparing notes from all of the other dimensions where you and him are together as your Miguel is shocked by the sheer number of same occurrences. Miguel is all on about, "what does this even mean, we're from entirely different dimensions", and Miguel2 over here just unapologetically, "so? My wife is also from another dimension, I just took her, she got used to it, it's totally fine bro, it's canon, just do it, just do whatever you want. it's fine bro I'M TELLING YOU--" and maybe even Mom!You is so, sucked into her own "it's ok I was initially forced into this because I'm happy now" world that she's even advocating, "oh gosh if I was her I'd be SO lonely, hearing how you two aren't even that close, especially not anymore, and you've all been avoiding her, and she doesn't even have a baby to care for and give her love 🥺 most 'me's are at least dating right now, so, i bet she's feeling so much pain, she NEEDS YOU right now 🥺"

Peter B is sent to give you another watch and tell you, it's ok, you can come back, they promise they're not gonna bug you about dating and stuff anymore, and you're just all "nah, I'm ok! :) you can keep it :) I've had enough of you guys :) dont let the door hit your ass on the way out :)" meanwhile Miguel 1 and 2 are comparing strategies, "see, when MY wife was refusing to come back to me, what I did was..."

[lime-bloods]

Early on in page 666 we touched on the sprites, and how, like the other ghosts in the Plot Point, they're frozen in time and unable to change. This latest chapter further emphasises the forever-childhood of the dead trolls; when Gcatavros and Erisol suggest that Vriska just chill with them for a little while, it's an appeal to her own childhood - the years she spent roleplaying with them back when they were just Tavros and Eridan. Vriska comes close to calling this out directly when she teases Erisol for the fact that he "literally can't change his clothes", but Erisol pointing out that Vriska's been wearing the same jacket since they were kids is actually stating plainly the thesis of the above post: for all the 'progress' Vriska has made up her echeladder thus far, she's still reluctant to actually "change", which is what the Plot Point was really constructed for her to do.

When Scratch reverts Vriska back to her own forever-childhood, he makes one last connection between growth and clothing by referring to it as "get[ting] you into your uniform." Outfit updates have been a staple of Beyond Canon since its inception, and since last year's relaunch quite a few characters have even received their second or third new designs; but Vriska stands out as one who has yet to be revamped in such a way - beyond receiving a new eyepatch, which is its own kind of regression to the way she used to be - given how uniquely fashion-conscious she could be in Homestuck itself. While sprites have no choice in what they wear, Vriska does, but has simply chosen thus far to remain in her old clothes in the same way she's chosen to remain in an old mindset; if she is indeed on the way to some kind of "Hell Tier", it seems very likely her first new outfit is on the horizon, and that inevitable change has now taken on a considerable symbolic significance.