#and the idea that that's a selfish choice

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

i wrote an entire analysis on yuji's and megumi's parallels throughout the series

what i think is interesting regarding megumi's and yuji's characters and how they are made to foil each other is that we see from the beginning how their stories are intertwined. from their very first interactions we see them save each other and that sets off a catalyst in how they save each other throughout the series, which is both selflishy and impulsively.

like we see them act without thought, both acting for their own reasons for why they decide to save each other. yuji's selfishness is different than megumi's though, of course. we see him act in selflessness to the point that it becomes selflishness. he WILL sacrifice himself for the greater good, regardless of those around him that care for him, because he thinks that the only thing that matters for his life is that he saves as many people as he can. this comes from the "curse" placed on him by his grandfather.

however, with megumi's selfishness, it comes from his own desire to live by his standards that he's placed on the world in his own twisted view of life due to his upbringing and life as a sorcerer. megumi doesn't think that everyone deserves to live the way that tsumiki and yuji do, and that's why he admires them so much. but this also ties into his self-imagery issues and how he thinks that he doesn't deserve to walk alongside him. this is where his self-destructive ideas come into play where he thinks that everything is fine as long as he can use mahoraga to save the ones he loves because his life doesn't matter as much as others.

we see this foil/parallel (i know this is an oxymoron, but they ultimately have differing beliefs while still acting in a similar fashion) grow between them throughout the series as the save each other and understand the other's struggles. megumi sees that yuji has gone through something after he's revived in chapter 33:

megumi: “itadori, you okay?” yuuji: “well, it’s a big job but i should be fine.” megumi: “no, something happened, didn’t it?” yuuji: “huh, what are you talking about?”

megumi can tell that something has been/is bothering yuuji, even after his insistence that he’s fine at this point, megumi has lost and mourned yuji, while yuji has lost and is mourning junpei.

there's also the classic scene in chapter 63, after yasohachi bridge where they both realize that yuji being alive means that curses are killing more people:

megumi: “don’t tell him.” yuuji: “hey! don’t tell fushiguro. don’t you dare tell him”

this is another instance of them trying to save each other/carry the other's burden as they act as foils. they both feel they are at fault for the deaths and while megumi doesn't regret it ("i never once regretted saving you"), yuji acts in a way that he feels is deserving of his life (in that he wants to "earn" his life because megumi saved him and he doesn't want it to be for nothing)

then of course we get to shibuya and yuji has his moment of giving up and feeling that he is undeserving of living because of the lives sukuna killed. he has his conversation with todo and he is able to pick himself back up, but he still feels like he needs to make up for every life lost. we see the parallel with megumi here in 256 where he tells yuji that he wants to give up. we expect him to get up right away like yuji did back in shibuya, but sukuna cuts them off and megumi doesn't fight back.

then of course their dynamic comes full circle as they both talk in 266, where yuji is able to relate to megumi in his grief and loss and tells megumi that he understands why he's made his decision. what i think is really beautiful about this chapter is that we probably expected the convo to go similar to yuji's with todo, where it's like "i know you're down now, but we must prevail!!" type stuff. but we don't get that with megumi and yuji because they understand each other at a very basic core level. we see yuji give him the choice to live or die as he tells megumi that he accepts him either way.

yuji and megumi are like yin and yang. they have very different motivations, beliefs, and ideals, but they ultimately work together and find harmony in their differences. i think the way that gege has written the two of them and their characters is really cool and it's that very reason why i'm so miffed that we don't get to see a true conclusion to their dynamic as far as this last chapter goes. i would really REALLY like to see a final, good, emotional conversation between the two of them because they deserve it.

[mummer]

rhaenyra's such an ally for forcibly exiling her gay husband on a whim even though he explicitly wanted to stay with her just because she wants to get married to someone else. that was so nice of her, to do that, i guess

[pocketgalaxies]

thinking about if/how the loss of opal as we know her will affect at all their perception of protecting the gods, especially compounded with fcg's death. when you reunite with someone you've missed so much and all he has to tell you is that his brother was killed by a god and his friend was forcibly surrendered to serve that god in the name of self-protection from predathos. when your best friend found so much hope in their god and went on this journey with you feeling like they were doing the work of a god who helped him find purpose, and all there is to show for it is a pile of scrap metal. how do you reconcile the idea that your mission is to defeat this entity that threatens the gods, when the gods are relentlessly demanding sacrifice and death from the people you love in order to protect themselves. how can you not think for at least a moment that maybe the gods deserve to be destroyed

[thetomorrowshow]

hubris killed the god - ch 6

First Part

this is the final part! thanks for coming along on this one, i really enjoyed writing it :) it kind of makes me want to do more of this style in the future, so thanks for the lovely feedback <3

cw: implied/referenced death, much open discussion about death, blood & injury, non-graphic animal death

~

Within three days, Shelby is bedridden.

Or, tableridden, rather.

A mattress has been brought into the chapel (Scott’s suspicious that it’s Sausage’s own bed, dragged from the sideroom) in place of the pillows that had been cushioning Shelby’s resting place.

Shelby lies there, mostly unmoving, face pale. When she’s awake, her brow is furrowed in concentration, shaking hands weaving invisible purple webs with her wand (invisible to all but Scott). When she’s asleep, her temperature rises and she tosses and turns with illness, unable to protect herself; it’s often then that Sausage leans over her, muttering under his breath with his hands laid on her head.

At times they work at once, Sausage passing from her head to her cheek to her hand, spilling a drop of whatever is in his tiny cylindrical container at each point and continuing his muttered spells or blessings, while Shelby scrunches her eyes shut and weaves protection spells and health spells and resilience spells.

Scott can’t really tell if any of it is working. The red marks on Shelby’s cheek and hand don’t grow any smaller or larger, they don’t fade or darken. He watches the spells she casts enter her body, he sees the hexes that she weaves, but for all he knows, it’s doing nothing.

For all he knows, Shelby is still dying and he’s been right to not get his hopes up.

Sausage’s magic is less of the visible kind, for the most part, but he can see occasionally the way Sausage seems to wrap Shelby’s hand in golden strings, or the glow that passes from his hands into her hair.

Scott watches more than anyone else, he thinks—not that he’s there in the chapel more than anyone else, just that he watches. fWhip’s there whenever he can make it, sitting beside Shelby and laying his head on her shoulder or helping her eat; Gem reads to Shelby when she’s resting, hands shaking too much to carry out any more spells but feeling too ill to sleep; Katherine just sits beside her, sometimes gripping her hand when she needs it; even False steps in every once in a while, bringing fresh water for both Shelby and Sausage.

Scott doesn’t feel that he does too much to help. He mostly sits in the first pew, keeps an eye on the two of them, noting when Sausage’s prayers begin to stutter or Shelby’s hands list to the side. Then he quietly taps the shoulder of whoever is sitting beside Shelby (or slips out to the foyer where someone will be waiting) and lets them know that the two magic users’ strength is flagging, and they need to rest.

And Jimmy . . . Jimmy doesn’t come by at all.

Jimmy doesn’t even really come into the church anymore. He eats meals out by the fire alone, patrols the border by himself near-constantly, and otherwise avoids everyone.

It’s guilt, Scott thinks. If Shelby hadn’t been ill, he’d probably do the same, ashamed of his decisions and feeling horrible for the people he’s hurt.

And it may be guilt, but it’s also a terrible thing to do. Because Shelby is dying, and everyone is giving what they can to help her or be near her, and Jimmy isn’t even trying.

Every time he remembers how little Jimmy is doing, he does a little more himself. He helps Sausage to a pew for a nap. He offers to readjust Shelby’s pillows. He actually does something, which is more than Jimmy can say.

And when Scott isn’t in the chapel, he’s tracking the border’s changes, marking them with sticks and rocks. Because the border is changing every single day now, shrinking as Sausage focuses his efforts on Shelby.

And when Scott lies in bed at night, he stares at the ceiling and tries to think of ways to escape.

Oli’s dead, for sure. And there’s no way that Joey’s safe, now that they know the mites can swim. For all they know, they’ve already spread to the ocean, devouring every sea creature they come across and multiplying even further.

Pix is gone, whether by some sort of escape that only he could think of or death, Scott can’t know. Shelby’s here, but nobody knows for how long.

There’s nobody else. There’s nothing else. There’s nowhere to go.

They’re trapped in a dwindling Sanctuary, and even if Shelby does survive, they’ll all die not long after.

He considers the Nether—Shelby had managed to travel through it, after all, so it had presumably been relatively mite-free—but immediately dismisses it out of hand. Humans can’t survive long in the Nether—the temperature is just too high. Scott can barely manage the ten minute travel through the portals, there’s no way he could last more than a day before dying of heatstroke.

And then Scott loses track of his thoughts for a moment, tired as he is, and somehow ends up categorizing the various portals by how far they are from Chromia’s. It’s like counting sheep, he thinks idly. Tracking them in his mind as a way to fall asleep. Joel’s is the closest, of course, but there are a bunch of portals kind of all tangled up and he cannot for the life of him remember which color of carpet leads to which portal.

He tries to picture them in his head, holding back a yawn. Jimmy’s is brown, Gem’s is . . . orange? Was Pix grey, or a blue? And what about the fairgrounds, that Oli had built a portal for? Despite there having its own, much more mysterious portal, of course.

A portal, Jimmy had called the Rift. Then he’d said that it had been Lizzie’s plan to head in there.

Scott sits straight up in bed, exhaustion forgotten.

They can go through the Rift.

-

There’s silence around the campfire after Scott introduces his plan. fWhip and Gem exchange a look. Katherine glances back at the church. False leans back a bit, folds her arms.

Jimmy, however, nods. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about, too,” he says. “I’d say it’s worth a shot to send at least some of us in.”

“Some of us being who?” Gem asks, and there’s something pointed in her voice that Scott doesn’t quite understand.

Jimmy seems to, though, because he inclines his head toward her. “Myself, Katherine, fWhip, and you, I figured,” he says to her, before shrugging. “We could rearrange those if we need to. But Shelby can’t travel, and False ain’t keen on the Rift—” False snorts in acknowledgement— “and Scott can see the border, might protect Sanctuary for a bit longer. That’s my reasoning, least. All good?”

And Scott nods, if only because Jimmy’s the leader.

He wants to go through, but he can’t leave Shelby. Sure, he wants to survive—he’s gotten this far, after all, one of the few left during the apocalypse—but he isn’t going to throw away his friends just for the chance to live.

And again, it’s a chance. Just like how finding Pix had been a chance.

Scott’s not willing to put everything on the line for another chance.

-

The preparations start immediately.

Gem runs to and fro, reassuring Shelby in one second and sharpening her sword the next, packing food and first aid and everything she can carry.

fWhip trails along beside her, apparently already ready, offering suggestions and chewing so  hard on his lip that it starts to bleed.

Katherine hasn’t collected much in her short time here, so she spends her spare moments sitting beside Shelby and Sausage, holding Shelby’s hand whenever it’s available. Scott watches her, sometimes, his eyes catching on their entwined hands, and thinks of all the things that Shelby’s confessed to him over lunch, and wonders.

And Jimmy, again, is the odd one out, wandering through Sanctuary and sitting alone by the campfire.

Scott’s content to leave him to it—he doesn’t know what Jimmy’s thinking and he’s not really interested in knowing—but when Jimmy grabs him by the shoulder early the next morning (the day before they’re set to head out, leaving Scott and False in charge), Scott reluctantly breaks away from his path to the church and follows. He’s a busy man, trying to take over the management of Sanctuary at such a tumultuous time—whatever Jimmy has to say had better be quick.

They walk in silence for a moment. The sun has just broken over the horizon, casting the orange leaves of Sanctuary’s trees into a dim, yellow light. It feels so very autumnal, even though Scott’s fairly certain it’s only just barely September. Maybe there’s some kind of magic involved, like with the rest of Sanctuary, that changes the seasons on a dime. He’s pretty sure that last week when he was out here, the trees had been mostly green.

Those are only idle thoughts, straws grasped at for something to think about so that he isn’t forced to make conversation. Unfortunately, it looks like it’ll be up to him, as Jimmy says nothing for several long minutes.

“Nice out,” Scott offers eventually. Jimmy starts, almost as if he’d forgotten Scott was here.

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugs. “Bit warm for this early, but I ain’t complaining.”

Scott nods slowly. Scuffs at the footpath that travels around the border that they’re following. Jimmy doesn’t say anything else.

Jimmy pauses at a point close to the border on the opposite side of the church, looking out over the plains in the distance, little patches of grass turned black.

“This is the most beautiful part of Sanctuary, I think,” Jimmy murmurs, and Scott tries to see it. He really does.

But there’s not much to it. It’s just a plain, with few of the trees that make Sanctuary so picturesque, stretching far until it slowly climbs into rolling hills.

He nods again, anyway. He’s not sure what Jimmy’s trying to do—connect with him, or apologize before leaving? Try not to part with bad blood?

Because while Scott’s certainly grown some sympathy for the man, he doesn’t have to like him. He doesn’t have to forgive him for ending the world.

Even if, in some strange turn, he wants Jimmy to forgive him for pushing them to look for Pix.

But Jimmy doesn’t ask forgiveness. He doesn’t try to explain his actions, or apologize. Instead, he takes in a deep breath, and says, turning to meet Scott’s eyes, “I want you to go through the Rift.”

Scott blinks. “Sorry, what?”

Jimmy sighs, sits down on a boulder in a familiar way that clearly tells Scott he’s spent quite some time here. “I’m not going. I want you to take my place.”

And that—whatever Scott had expected, it isn’t that.

“Wh-why?”

Jimmy doesn’t answer immediately. He just gazes out over the plains, something lost, something longing in his eyes.

Scott may not forgive Jimmy. He may not like him. But Jimmy’s a good leader, knows how to properly build a community in times of hardship, he knows how to direct. If the other side of the Rift is some new world, untouched by the death that plagues this one, someone will need to be there to help the group survive, rebuild from nothing.

Not Scott. Chromia had been full of llamas and not people for a reason, after all.

And he’s already been preparing to stay back, Jimmy had asked him to stay back and he’d agreed and he’s settled in that decision and that’s final—

“I can’t do that,” he says, and there’s a bit of panic rising in his throat, but he swallows it down as best he can. “I—you’re the leader, I can’t—I don’t—”

“Scott,” Jimmy says softly.

Scott stops.

“I’m not going,” he continues. “And they’ll follow you. Even False will follow you, if you can convince her. But I can’t go through the Rift.”

“Why not?”

Jimmy chews on the inside of his cheek. The fire that normally burns so brightly behind his eyes is dim, his body hunched over itself a little bit. He fiddles with his vest a little, then looks out again over the plains.

“It was in the catacombs,” Jimmy starts, his voice still lower than Scott’s ever heard before. “I was marking our path with chalk. And. . . .”

He shakes back the cuff of his right sleeve, and there, on his wrist, is a tiny pink splotch, raw scrapes from where it’s clearly been scratched at swelling it further.

Scott stares.

“I didn’t know what to say,” Jimmy says, a bit of a wry smile playing upon his lips. “Not when we couldn’t stop moving while we were down there. Not when Shelby needed comfort. Not when we need to focus everything on her.”

Oh.

Jimmy’s dying, too.

And Scott supposes he ought to feel something about that—sadness, at losing another friend; relief, that the killer who began this whole thing will meet his end; even despair at the loss of their leader.

He doesn’t feel any of that, though.

He mostly feels tired.

“We might be able to heal you,” he offers. The words come out halfhearted, as genuine as they are. “If it works with Shelby, we can do it with you, right? We can just put off the Rift thing until you’re both better.”

“And if Shelby doesn’t get better?”

Scott looks away.

“I want to stay,” Jimmy says. “I do. But I can’t. And maybe it’s selfish, Scott, but I don’t want them to know that . . . that I’ve been hiding this from them.”

“Like you hid the stuff about Joel from me.”

Jimmy grimaces. “Yeah. I’m not really good with confrontations like that. You saw what happened. But I couldn’t just leave without telling someone, you know?”

“So . . . you’re leaving,” Scott says. He glances out toward the plains, the little patches of darkness that mar them. “To—what, to become like Oli? Instead of staying here, where we can help you . . . go peacefully, I guess?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “I don’t care much for the idea of staying in bed, all still and sick ‘til it’s over. I figure I’ll just head out quietly, yeah? I already packed my bag. I just wanted to make sure someone could be in charge.”

“I’m not a leader,” Scott reminds him. “What about fWhip?”

“fWhip’s a follower,” Jimmy shoots back instantly. “He gets too stressed to actually lead.”

“Katherine?”

“I don’t think she’ll want to go through the Rift,” Jimmy says. He’s clearly given this a lot of thought. “She said she’d come, but I bet my bootstraps she’ll back out last minute. And not Gem, either,” Jimmy adds when Scott opens his mouth. “Scott, I chose you because you’re the one who fought back when you thought I’d made a wrong choice. You spoke up. And not just then—you suggest your own plans all the time. You’re a leader, even if you don’t know it.”

Scott wants to argue. He wants to tell Jimmy all the ways he wouldn’t be a good leader, all the times he’s screwed up, all the illegal things he’s done.

But there isn’t time.

There is time, however, to spend another moment with Jimmy, so Scott heaves himself onto the boulder beside him and leans, just a little bit, against him.

Jimmy tenses, then slowly, carefully, rests his head on Scott’s shoulder.

Scott can feel through his shirt that Jimmy’s forehead is a decent bit warmer than it ought to be.

They just sit there, as the sun rises, leaning against each other, staring out at the plains beyond the border. The world is silent, no wildlife left to wake up.

It’s strange, Scott thinks, because for all the various emotions he’s felt about Jimmy—the small crush he’d had for so long that had given way to anger and a little fear when he’d learned of Joel’s fate, the affection, the apprehension, the respect, the irritation—he feels absolutely nothing in this moment.

After maybe ten minutes, Jimmy’s muscles tense (as if he’s preparing to carry something heavy) and he pulls away, brushes off his wrinkled shirt, and stretches his arms out.

“I should probably head out before the town wakes up,” he says. “Get away before anyone can stop me.”

“Sure,” Scott says, quiet, then adds, “what do you want me to tell them?”

Jimmy pauses, looks in the direction of the church (obscured by the woods) and then back to the plains. “Not the truth,” he says eventually. “I don’t care what. Better to let ‘em believe I’m a deserter, probably. I don’t want them to try and find me.” He idly scratches at the spot on his wrist, before adding, voice quieter, “And I don’t want them to be sad. I don’t want them to have to grieve me. It’s better for them to be angry, I think.”

Which Scott thinks is unfair to Jimmy’s memory (not that he’s a memory yet), but. Dying men and their wishes and all that.

“Where are you planning on going?”

“Wander,” says Jimmy. “See if I can find a way to kill those buggers. Look for Pix, maybe. Then die peaceful-like in a ditch, probably.”

Scott doesn’t laugh at the poor attempt at a joke. Jimmy doesn’t either. Instead, the Sheriff gives him a sad smile, picks up his satchel that had been leaning against the boulder unnoticed, and steps across the border.

Scott sits there and watches until he’s just a speck in the distance, swallowed up by the hills.

-

“And what, he didn’t even give you a reason? He just left?” Gem demands, and Scott’s never seen her this angry.

He shrugs helplessly. “That’s all I know. I woke up, I came over to check on Shelby, he left me in charge, and then he left.”

If Scott’s omitting certain irrelevant parts of the story, nobody will ever know. Because despite the way it itches at him uncomfortably, it had been Jimmy’s dying wish to not tell them why he’d left.

“I can’t believe this,” Gem huffs. “I thought he actually cared. Forget him.”

fWhip’s sequestered himself awkwardly in the corner of the foyer, arms hugged tight around himself. His eyes are shining in the dim light, and Scott looks away quickly before he can confirm them to be tears.

Katherine’s angry as well, arms folded tightly over her chest, hair coming out of its braid. “Coward. Doesn’t want to face what we’d do to him if the Rift takes us someplace safe.”

Scott cringes internally. He doesn’t speak up.

“So, Jimmy ran for it,” Gem says, counting on her fingers. “Jimmy ran, Shelby’s down, Sausage is with her. Pix is gone, Oli’s gone, Joey’s probably gone. Lizzie left. Tomorrow, half of us are going through the Rift.” She sighs. “Soon there’ll be no one left.”

“Well, if the Rift works out, we can come back and send everyone through,” Scott points out. “Even though there’d be no one left, at least we’d be alive.”

Everyone across the room nods. fWhip sniffles quietly.

“So,” Scott says after a moment (they’d all been waiting for something to be said, and it was usually Jimmy’s job but now Scott has Jimmy’s job and he’s not ready for this responsibility—). “We’re leaving tomorrow. Can someone fill me in on the plan, please?”

-

Scott finds himself sitting on that boulder, overlooking the plains (which are still unimpressive compared to literally every other view of Sanctuary). He hadn’t even known this boulder existed, in more than a passing sense, until Jimmy showed it to him this morning.

He doesn’t have time to mourn, no time to mourn anything that’s happened over the past couple of months, but he does have a moment to sit by himself and mentally prepare for the plan that they've spent the past hour going over.

Or at least, he thinks he does, because he’s barely been there for ten minutes when someone clambers onto it beside him.

“Hey,” Katherine says.

“Hey.”

She sighs, looks out over the plains and the mites that inhabit them. “Terrible view,” she comments after a moment.

Scott snorts. “Exactly what I thought.”

Silence.

Scott hasn’t had much to do with Katherine—she helped him stitch a copy of his fedora, of course, but outside of that afternoon of sewing, they haven’t really hung out. Not like he has with Shelby, or Jimmy, or Joel.

All of his friends are dead or dying.

Except Sausage. Everyone always seems to overlook Sausage.

“He liked you, you know,” Katherine says out of the blue.

Scott chokes a little bit. “Sorry?”

“Jimmy,” she says, as if it’s obvious. “I know you had a thing for him. If you’d asked him out, he would’ve said yes.”

Right. Well, that’s a revelation that Scott doesn’t have time to process. And unfair of her to put on him. “Did you ever ask Shelby out?” he asks dryly.

Katherine inclines her head. “Touche.”

“I had a thing for Jimmy, he had a thing for Joey, Joey had a thing for you, you had a thing for Shelby—if anyone tried to pair off, it would’ve caused wars.”

“Or a big, happy polycule,” Katherine suggests. “Then maybe none of this would’ve happened. And Jimmy can still be the leader, which would keep his ego soothed."

Scott frowns. “Wait, why does Jimmy get to lead the polycule?”

Katherine gives him a look. “Oh, come on,” she says. “Literally all of you guys were down so bad for him. Gem and I used to bet on who would crack first and confess.”

And Scott had thought he’d been rather subtle about his affections for Jimmy. The Sheriff tended to eschew romance in general (he’d always looked out of his depth when Scott tried to talk about Katherine’s little love triangle), so Scott had been careful about not overwhelming him or crossing any boundaries. In fact, he’d become so used to dissociating romance from Jimmy, he must have not noticed several fellow rulers pining after the Sheriff.

Which is kind of disappointing. He must’ve missed out on months of gossip.

And it’s all in the past, now.

“So, about tomorrow. . . .” Katherine starts.

“You don’t want to come,” guesses Scott. She turns a shocked look on him.

“How—? Never mind. You’re just a natural leader, I guess.” She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to stay with Shelby.”

Scott nods. “I figured,” he says. He didn’t. Jimmy figured, and Scott’s just passing along his assumptions.

Now, more than ever, Scott understands why everyone else valued Jimmy being a good leader despite his murderous tendencies.

“Right. Well, is that cool?” she asks.

He’d love to have Katherine with him when they come out on the other side of the Rift, knowing nothing about what might be waiting for them.

But on the other hand, he won’t pull her away from Shelby in what’s possibly Shelby’s final days.

“It’s not a problem,” he says. “I’ll see if False will join us instead. I’m not going to make you do anything. And I think Shelby needs you more than I do.”

Katherine shoots him a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks. But if everything works out, we’ll all be headed through soon, anyway.”

“Hopefully Sausage has another sheep.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

It’s not healthy to suppress emotions like this (Scott’s well aware of that, if nothing else), but he finds himself relieved that he doesn’t feel more than a distant sadness at Katherine’s decision to stay.

“You know,” Katherine says after a moment, “I knew Jimmy decently well. And if there’s one thing I know about him, it’s that he isn’t a coward.”

Scott doesn’t say anything. Just remembers that when he told them all what had happened, the first thing Katherine had done was call Jimmy a coward. Words of anger, perhaps? Or is her new admission a lie?

“It . . . it hurts to know that he just left us. I can’t decide if he had a reason, or if it really was just running away.” She sighs. “Everyone’s selfish when it comes down to it, I guess.”

Scott nods. “Yeah,” he finds himself agreeing. Just hours ago, he’d sat on this boulder with Jimmy leaning against him, feverish and likely hallucinating as he gathered the strength to strike off alone.

And just two months ago, Jimmy had killed a god out of quick-tempered anger and selfishness, dooming the world.

“Yeah,” Scott says again. “It’s what makes us human, I guess.”

-

Sausage, tired as he is, gives Scott a warm hug before they leave.

“Take care, Scott,” he whispers, beard tickling Scott’s ear. Scott nods, swallows back the lump in his throat.

“You too. Get Shelby better, yeah?”

Sausage doesn’t respond, just squeezes him and turns back to Shelby.

Shelby doesn’t acknowledge Scott when he bends over to give her a hug, her eyes squeezed shut and heat radiating off of her. He doesn’t say anything, just holds her tight for a solid ten seconds.

Katherine gives him a quick hug on the way out, and Gem and fWhip and False are waiting on the airship already (with the sheep just hanging out behind them, which is a ludicrous sight), so he hurries along and clambers up to join them, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders and his trusty shovel at his hip.

“Bye!” Katherine waves from the ground. Gem waves back right as the turbines start spinning and the airship slowly takes off.

Scott grips the railing, staring down over Sanctuary. From this height, he can tell that the protective magic around the town is beginning to fail. It’s patchy, almost open, from above, and it’s shrunk so much that the houses on the edge of town are beginning to fall outside of the line.

Some sort of emotion wells up in Scott, and he isn’t sure if it’s fear or grief or what, just knows that it’s making his stomach turn.

Whether or not the Rift thing works out, he probably won’t ever see Sanctuary again.

He may never see Sausage or Shelby again. He’ll never see Chromia, or the Evermoor, or Tumble Town, or any of this world ever again.

Scott heaves a sigh, then turns around, to find fWhip and Gem watching him.

“Sorry, what?” he blinks a few times. “Did you—did you say something?”

fWhip shrugs. “You’re the leader now,” he says awkwardly. “Just waiting for you to go over the plan.”

“I just learned the plan from you yesterday,” Scott points out. “Surely you know it better than me.”

“I guess, but . . . Jimmy always did it.”

“Right.” Scott forgot that he would actually have responsibilities. He’d never paid much attention to what Jimmy did, other than run himself into the ground patrolling and cause the apocalypse. “Um. False will drop the sheep on the other side of the river from the Rift, hopefully attracting the mites. We head through the Rift while they’re distracted. That’s . . . that’s it.”

Gem frowns. “I expected more.”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. More.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Well, I don’t have anything else to say. Give me a couple of minutes, I’ll make something up.”

fWhip actually grins a little. Which is great, because Scott’s pretty sure he’s barely stopped crying since yesterday.

Then he turns back, and watches the miles pass below them until he can see the mountain that holds the pulsing Rift in the distance, the ground around it so overwhelmed by mites that the terrain is no longer familiar. Somewhere within the festival grounds that had never been properly used is a torn flag hanging from a bent flagpole, tatters flapping in the wind.

Finally, whatever it is in Scott’s stomach resolves itself into a properly identifiable feeling.

He feels fear.

Which, unsurprisingly, he doesn’t have time for.

“We all know the plan?” he finds himself yelling over the sound of the airship, as if they hadn’t just gone over it. Gem and fWhip nod, fWhip already leading the sheep to the edge.

Just as False passes over the river, by the bridge, fWhip shoves the bleating sheep overboard.

Even from as far up as they are, Scott hears it hit the ground with a crunch and cringes, wishing he’d thought to cover his ears.

But it works.

The mites that had been squirming around the Rift begin to crawl en masse in the direction of the sheep, where already a few lucky mites are devouring the thing. They’re going to have to move fast—this is in no way a permanent solution, especially considering the multiplication that’s going to take place.

Scott throws the rope ladder over the side when False halts the airship, looks around for—for no one, he’s the leader, he has to go first.

And he’s right—he’ll need to move faster than ever, what with the still sizable collection of mites below him.

Scott swallows, his mouth utterly dry. There’s a pretty good chance this is the last thing he’ll ever do. There’s no guarantee that there’s even anything more than a hellscape on the other side of the Rift.

But if this is his last act, at least he won’t have to be in charge any more.

Scott swings himself over the railing and finds his footing on the waving rope ladder, before hauling himself down as quickly as he can. The wind is blowing the ladder all over the place, and it’s all Scott can do to hold on and not die of fright, but his arms (somehow growing used to this) hold firm and his toes curl around the rope and he somehow, gloriously, makes it to the bottom.

He starts yelling at the top of his lungs before he even touches the ground, nonsense and folk tunes and wordless, whatever he can think of, just to frighten the darkness away a bit. He starts glaring as soon as he can look away from his own feet, clearing a nice space for fWhip and Gem to land.

Scott double-checks that his pant legs are tucked into his boots, then draws his shovel, holding it threateningly above his shoulder, ready to hit any mite that steps out of line.

There’s a lot of them. The grass is worn down around the Rift (so close Scott can hear it thrumming with power) by so many plaguelings stacked here, as if they know that a portal could lead to more places to corrupt but can’t figure out how to enter.

Scott’s voice cracks. He’s alone down here, surrounded by mites, the only way out is across that rickety bridge and even then it might—

Gem jumps the last couple of rungs, landing heavily on her feet beside Scott. fWhip scurries down the ladder right behind her, and then it’s just the three of them against the world.

“Ready to go?” Scott shouts. Gem nods, and her mouth’s moving but Scott can’t hear her over the sound of his own voice and the departing airship. She nods again, though, drawing her sword with one hand and holding onto fWhip with the other.

fWhip nods as well, his ears flapped over themselves to muffle the noise. Scott takes in a breath—they’re leaving it’s time to leave they’ll finally be out of here—and turns toward the Rift.

They have to cross the bridge, first. And as Scott takes his first step across it, the wood below his feet gives and his foot crashes through the bridge.

Scott loses track of his constant stream of noise, crying out in pain as the splintered wood scrapes up his leg like fire, all the way up to his knee, tearing through cloth and skin. There’s a mite just a few feet away from him, and surely more out of sight—he can’t stop here, he can’t catch his breath, he can’t wait for the pain to lull for a moment—it hurts and his stomach feels like it’s fallen out of his body but he can’t stop—so Scott grits his teeth and yanks his leg up, the wood scraping right back down the marks it just made until he’s properly standing again.

“Scott!” Gem grabs onto him, pulling him back a couple of steps—Scott hisses at the weight on his leg—

fWhip darts forward, testing the bridge on all fours, tail swinging out behind him for balance. It bends beneath him, but it doesn’t break like it had for Scott, and fWhip manages to cross entirely.

“One at a time,” he calls back. “And be careful—I think they’re swarming under it!”

Scott bites back a snarky response. He knows to be careful—it’s not like it was his fault the bridge broke under him. But he gingerly steps around the hole in the bridge and tiptoes across, his leg smarting, skin now bared to the wind.

Gem joins him on the other side. The Rift is within reach now, warm and pulsing purple, just a couple of meters away and they’re home free.

There are quite a few mites waiting between them and the Rift, however. That’s certainly an issue, but not unmanageable. He handled more in Stratos, probably.

Scott starts swinging with his shovel, yelling every curse he can think of, but he’s only cleared a few before fWhip grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him roughly to look to his right.

Returning from across the river, sheep entirely gone, is a veritable wave of death.

The mites are piled higher than Scott is tall, practically twice his height, an amorphous being that looms over them like Joel once had.

Scott’s mind goes utterly blank. All he can hear is the pounding of his heart in his ears. All he can feel is his limbs shaking.

It’s moving fast, the shadow of the plague passing over them as the pile begins to collapse, in a matter of seconds mites will be raining down and latching onto them and they’ll die under the assault of so much death and Scott can’t make himself move—

Then Gem shoves him, and instinct kicks in.

Scott grabs Gem by the hand, fWhip by the arm, and runs.

He runs, and fWhip trips and Scott doesn’t let go, just hoists him back up with a strength he’s never had before and keeps going, because they’re going to die if they stay here and Scott’s never been more afraid in his life—

Something hits his back and bounces off—then again and again. Scott just has a moment to spare a thought, a prayer to whoever is listening that it didn’t touch his skin, and then he has to focus every thought he has on getting out.

Gem screams something, fWhip yells “We’re gonna make it!” and Scott bites his cheek and closes his eyes and his shoe catches on a stone—

Scott tumbles headfirst into the Rift.

-

The first sound he hears is the chirping of birds.

[tomwambsmilk]

It's 100% true that the Roy siblings did not choose to be Logan's children and Tom and Greg and the old guard did choose to work for him so their relationships to Logan are fundamentally different, and the degree of culpability they bear for their own moral degradation is also wildly different. But workplace emotional abuse is also very real and omnipresent in the way Logan treats the people who work for him. And one of the impacts of workplace emotional abuse is creating an extreme attachment to the abuser and becoming less cognizant and even defensive of their abuse towards yourself and others, and in cases where the emotional abuse is institutionalized and systemic it can also create a strong aversion to leaving because your whole sense of personal identity becomes wrapped up in the organization and so being forced to leave can cause an intense psychological crisis. I don't think the situation of working for Logan is at all equivalent to being his child but I also think that it's a bit misguided to imply that Tom and Gerri and Frank and Karl are operating from a place of pure rationality without any undue psychological influences when they make the choice to stay with and support Logan

[sleebyfrogs]

Okay so just imagine like. You’re just a little guy. You have no parents and your grandfather who raised you has always disparaged and disapproved of the very fact that you exist, for reasons utterly beyond your control. People enjoy your presence because you’re polite and charming the same way they enjoy flowers in spring, which is to say in passing and ultimately without any real connection.

And then you meet this guy who is just like. obsessed with you. He always wants to be around you and he derives true joy from it without you having to say anything funny or clever or lie for politeness’ sake. He creates art that he loves of you and because of you. Indirectly, you are suddenly able to put joy and beauty into the world, anything into the world, because you inspire him. You never imagined you would leave any kind of footprint the way things were before, because nothing you had was meaningful or lasting. And he flatters you dreadfully, he tells you how incredibly beautiful you are, and whether you realise it or not, you can feel that at least part of this value that he has found in you, that he has given you, comes from that beauty.

And then one day you meet his friend, who is older than you and cooler than you and a lord, and so witty and eloquent that you struggle just trying to keep track of whatever the fuck he’s talking about (and he always sounds like he knows everything about it), and he’s been this guy’s friend much longer than you have, and he also compliments you on your beauty and so seemingly that is the only quality of any worth that you possess, right? And then he waxes on and on about how it’s the only thing worth having and explains that what you have is actually incredibly valuable and fragile and precious, and that you are inevitably going to lose it and there’s nothing you can do. And also he says all this while you’re having your gay awakening because he’s sweet-talking you in a way you’ve never experienced and it’s uhhhhh it��s something. So then while you’re having a complete existential crisis over this your mutual friend calls you over to show you the most exquisite painting you’ve ever seen in your life and it’s of you. You didn’t know you could be so beautiful to anyone, you didn’t know he could create anything so beautiful, you didn’t know beauty on this level could even be captured in art. And that’s how he sees you, continually, without you having to make any effort to please him? Just to be yourself is enough to have inspired this incredible thing? You might cry. And then you realise he created it here and now and of you because on this particular day of June, you are twenty years old, and young, and pretty, and once you age out of that, you will lose the one thing anyone has ever valued in you, and surely also his interest, and you will be alone again, and worthy of nothing and no one. And because you’re also twenty years old and privileged and inexperienced you’ve never learned any capacity for nuanced thoughts and say things that are incredibly rash and stupid and regrettable.

So I’m not saying Dorian did nothing wrong but I am saying in his position I’d definitely have been a vain and terrified idiot too

[masked-alien-lesbian]

Not that I want to marry Duke Richards or Sir Gideon Payne by any means, but rereading Desire & Decorum has made me wonder what it would be like to play a more morally darker mc that gets married to someone who is trying to overthrow the king or queen. Something like TC&TF but instead of fighting to get your throne back, usurping the throne. Watching the world burn for you obtain power...

[gayemeralds]

here's the thing about shadow: his role, as the protector/savior of the world, is already being utilized. there's someone else filling his role. sonic.

shadow fulfilling his goal of protecting the world would have been fine as a one off thing. shadow being the protector and dying valiantly thus fulfilled what gerald and maria originally intended for him. he kept his promise to maria, even at the ultimate cost.

but by bringing him back from the dead, sega brought about a very big question- what do we do with him now? the role he wants is already being filled. there's not really a need for him. so what's left for him?

i don't think sega honestly has a concrete answer. the route they seem to take is that shadow's trying to let go of his past but also keep maria's promise. but i think, for both fans and sega, that they put far too much emphasis on maria's promise. i don't think it's a satisfying arc for shadow to save the world just because he feels he has to, just because he promised he would, just because he was intended to do so. shadow 05 was all about a deep exploration into morality and identity. what is shadow, now that maria and gerald are no longer in his life? what is shadow, now that someone is already fulfilling the role of the hero?

personally, if i had been in charge, i would have put him on team chaotix. having shadow align with g.u.n. is frankly a bad move- the very same branch of government that literally killed shadow's family and is filled to the brim with corruption? i don't see shadow joining, not willingly. and i definitely don't see him joining as an alternative to being a hero. the commander and him still have a lot of unresolved conflict and there's the fact that g.u.n. KILLED maria and EXECUTED gerald.

i think him being a part of team chaotix would be a good compromise. shadow's allowed to let go of his past, to no longer live up to the expectations of others. he's not just fulfilling a role, he's not just doing what he was always originally intended to do- he's carving out his own path and his own identity but he's still able to keep maria's promise, just on a smaller scale. he helps the chaotix with smaller level cases, helps keep people smiling and happy, becomes a hero to the little people.

the chaotix could definitely help him loosen up and learn to create his own identity without worrying about other people's perception. shadow fufills his promise without compromising the idea of giving him a life separate to the one gerald and gun intended for him. he's not a weapon or a cure or a saviour or whatever. he can just be shadow.

[muchemoaboutnothing]

x

[stars-and-darkness]

.

[mikuhats]

Im sorry but how did you get this from the finale 😭 would you have preferred if simon killed himself on screen

[idolsgf]

thinking about weathering with you and how at the end the characters decide to go with the selfish choice instead of the self sacrificing choice. they’d rather doom the world and be together than apart and i think that’s beautiful

[cuntstable]

thinking about byakuren touhou….. buddhist monk monday…..

[audarcy]

The original percy jackson series is about cycles of abuse and neglect, right. Were introduced to percy as a kid who has clearly been left behind by a school system that has given up on him, restless and unengaged and self-defetist because hes been given nothing that works for him and no one even tries to meet him where he is. Then hes told no, listen, your neurodivergence is amazing and you just need to be given something that actually utilizes your unique palatte. And thats obviously the uplifting idea rick wanted for his kids, right. But once we get to know chb the same cycles are happening there too. There are kids "left behind" there too for one reason or another, because their parents dont want to claim them, because their parents werent important enough to get a cabin. Do you get it, all the kids who dont fit the most common neurotypes get shoved into the same closet. Kids are being left in a cruel world to fend for themselves without the tools they need. Theyre dying because no one bothered to accommodate them. Its such an obvious parallel that the first chapter introduces a teacher whos written to be especially hard on percys disability and she turns out to literally be one of these monsters trying to kill him. Meanwhile sally jackson tells him she named him after Perseus because she wanted a redemption for a hero whos story ended in tragedy. Meanwhile every book in the series replicates a greek myth step for step until the moment they break the cycle. Annabeth, playing Odysseus, is talked down from her hubris and grounded by her friends. Percy, playing Heracles, meets someone wronged by the original Heracles and rights his wrongs by refusing to go down the same selfish path as him. Monsters are reborn because they are--as the books explicitly call them--achetypes. These kids are stuck inside the cyclical nature of mythology because thats what happens to mythology, it gets retold over and over again. But these are the kids who have to live it. The series ends with percy being offered immortality and he rejects it because he wants to use his godly favor to force them to break their cycle of neglecting their kids. The series ends with a declaration that we cant keep letting this happen. The very first book offees the same choice. It ends with percy refusing to keep the head of medusa as a spoil of war, refusing his heroic reward. He lets his mother have the head and use it to kill gabe. Isnt that fucking crazy for a kids book? Gabe wasnt a Monster. He wasnt going to Turn to Dust and Disappear in a narratively convenient way. He was a living breathing mortal dude and percy and his mom killed him without remorse. Break the cycle of abuse!!!! Dont let this happen again!!! Anyway thats why the original percy jackson series is Hey where are you going with our breadsticks

[gallierhouse]

Lestat’s parenting is so depressing to think about not only because it was sadistic and cruel but also because essentially, up till the great turning point of his marriage with Louis (Claudia leaving home), most of the things he did to Claudia were for her own good. It was cruel, and it was callous, and it was selfish, but I really do think it was the best he could do. He was raised by a father who dragged him home and beat him bloody and essentially imprisoned him in the French countryside until he went to Paris and he was raised by a mother who refused to teach him to read. I don’t know if he thought of her as a glorified doll, or family pet, or even as a daughter when they were all still playing house, but it’s really sad to think about how the way he parented Claudia was him breaking the cycle. He bought her clothes, he bought her toys, he dressed her up, he took her hunting, he took her to the theatre, he spent time with her. Christ, he actually spent time with her, when his parents probably never spent a day with him of their own volition. He was doing his best. And there were many ways he could’ve done better (for starters, by not making her watch her boyfriend burn, and perhaps even emotionally engaging with her instead of dismissing her during the fight that leads to her running away from home, and perhaps even going to look for her after, because it would’ve been easy for him), but it’s really sad that that was his best. He tried to spoil her, he tried to spend time with her, he let her leave home. I don’t know if that was an act of petty spite, or a choice he made because his own father dragged him home, or because he thought she’d come back, but he still let her leave. The first time, at least. He even acknowledges that his parenting may be sadistic, which doesn’t make it less so, but it is a startling moment of self-reflection coming from Narcissus himself. It’s really sad that that was him being a good father. That was his idea of a good father. Jesus Christ.

[inbetweencreature]

can’t believe I’ve been in love with you for going on 4 years now. I can’t believe the past four years how tumultuous it’s been. I remember before I met you I once said I was perpetually heartbroken. honestly, it still rings true.