#because there will be a point where you CANT ANYMORE

[ender-cloud]

I saw someone say that what if Polities voice is fading because Odysseus is forgetting his voice, I told some people this and we came up with a new theory.

So enjoy the theory and my explanation for it that I made late last night so its kinda everywhere

Ok ok, so What if Polities Voice fades because Odysseus is forgetting the idea of using Mercy and is no longer taking his advice to heart, forgetting what he said which is why the last time he hears Polities voice he only hears “You can relax my friend”

We can also see the growth throughout lyrics in the story!

First time we hear the Open arms idea is in song #4, Open arms, when Poloties is giving Odysseus advice that instead of leading with a ruthless, unhappy life to lead with a more open, merciful one instead!

And then In Remeber them, after Polities dies, when Odysseus talks to Athena he says “When Mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to do” and in Luck runs out he tells Eurylochus “I still believe in goodness, I still believe we can be kind, lead from the heart”

BUT THEN! IN UNDERWORLD SAGA WHEN WE HEAR POLITIES HIS VOICE IS FADED, at this in the point Odysseus has already met Posedion “Ruthlessness is Mercy” and has heard his crew blaming him for their deaths, already doubting Polities advice

Then theres of course Monster, getting rid of that Ideal of Mercy, with Different Beast Odysseus showed no Mercy to the Sirens because he “can’t take more risks of not seeing his wife” (also just the entire Thunder saga in general) yet he still dosent bring himself to fight Scylla, not being able to fight a monster, perhaps because he knew it was a lost cost either way.

Also he still debates for a bit if he should show his crew mercy, knowing what he truly wants but not wanting to voice it, not wanting to accept that he cant show them his mercy, leading to their deaths

AND THEN IN LOVE IN PARADISE WE HEAR POLITIES AGAIN! This time he’s more faded, Odysseus has been betrayed by people he thought were his friends, he is almost constantly SA’d (in the original Odyssey and Hints to it in Epic) by Calypso every night, and is loosing his hope in humanity.

Then, of course, the Vengeance sags. Where, for the last time, we see Odysseus try to accept Mercy, trying to hold onto the Ideal, but it doesn’t work. Poseidon doesn’t listen. This is the last time we hear Polities, but it’s not the normal piece of advice he gives, it’s “You can relax my friend” because Odysseus isn’t planning on using Mercy anymore. He has tried time and time again just for nothing to work.

This leads to the end of 600 strike, even after He won he didnt give Poseidon any mercy whatsoever.

AND THEN WE GET TO ODYSSEUS (the song) WHERE THIS ALL COMES TOGETHER!

The fight with the Suitors has many parts but theres 2 important ones. The first one is the obvious one, Eurymachus trying to reason with Odysseus, using the Words “OPEN ARMS” which is something Odysseus has rejected, choosing to kill Eurymachus instead (i heard people say its a trigger word now and it made me giggle)

And then theres the end of Odysseus, when Telemachus attempts to reason and give the suitors Mercy, in which we get the nail of the Mercy coffin with the lines “Mercy? MERCY! My mercys long since drowned” (Poseidon putting thr thought of Ruthlessness in his head) “it died to bring me home”

This is where we truly see that Mercy isnt even a thought to Odysseus, he has completely forgotten and pushed aside what Polities had told him (which might be a reason we dont get a polities moment in the final saga)

Also in this same song, Odysseus says that they “Filled his heart with hate” going against what he had said in Luck runs out, he is no longer penelopes “kind and loving husband” (WYFILWMA) because of what happened to him during the journey

[paingoes]

hiiiiii. okay :)

yeah i mean. thats the thing, right? what can paris do to make things better? delta is dead from his perspective. justice and atonement wont fall from the sky! theyre impossible to access. the only way he can really see to try and atone for it now is by punishing himself. but more on that in the future :D

you keep calling him adorably pitiful i think that is so cute.... he is !!! his poor sad wet kitten energy. i love him so much </3 youre right to be kinda angry about his missing delta. but again more on that later.

and yes :D !!!! johanna did attend beldam and did get buried alive by them. in like the exact same place that paris started freaking out while on his acid trip. in all fairness, they truly did not mean to bury her alive. they thought they killed her. but her regeneration ability is so intensely powerful that she came back anyway and awoke buried underground. she ended up digging her way out since she couldn't die beneath there, then ended up escaping into the woods. the whole thing was deeply traumatic for her in addition to the psychic injuries she already incurred at beldam.

she's mad that paris triggered the nightmare for her by asking about where she went to school. paris honestly though it was a long shot and was willing to accept that she'd gone to a normal school, but can figure out from what she was muttering in her sleep that she did in fact attend beldam. he knows martino was a doctor there and that she would likely know of him if she didnt know him personally. he was correct. her feelings towards martino are not very positive and she really wanted paris to shut the fuck up about it.

"are you mad at me" is such an insane thing to ask someone whos holding you captive LMFAO. guys hes sensitive.....

and johanna is actually telling the truth about not being able to remember anyones name/callsign. it's also worth mentioning that johanna is seven years older than delta and paris! so at the time she was "killed" and escaped, delta would have only been around five years old. however i do think they interacted! she was allowed to look after some of the younger kids when she was 10 or 11, so she may have been babysitting him at some point. paris might have had more luck if he'd asked if she remembered "the blue one". for what its worth, delta would not remember johanna at all, just because of how young he was and how many of his childhood memories he has repressed. johanna's memories are also kind of fucky. poor kids :(

paris did probe delta with questions about the institute before! delta just doesnt like to talk about it and paris feels guilty whenever he learns too much so those conversations never go anywhere. as you can see, johanna doesn't want to talk about it either...

aw yeah paris is going through it. i think this is the first time he like willingly submits to being hurt because the guilt has truly been eating him alive for a very long time and he doesnt have the addiction to numb it anymore. the only way he really thinks he can endure it is by replacing it w self harm / self punishment. he does need help! hes needed help for a very long time and he has never been given it.

and yeah thats one reason!!! i think shes very pissed off at the fact that paris keeps probing at her own trauma for whats essentially his own guilt/gratification, which ends in her trying to take out all that pent-up anger on him. she's additionally mad that he's crying now and that he "cant handle it" the way she could. but hes really not crying from pain here. its 100% from guilt and shame.

Yeah, Paris, don't you remember how Delta acted 🙄. Just kidding. Actually felt a bit bad for Paris. Fuck him for making me want to give him a hug.

oough every part of that paragraph made me sad :(

and yeah!!! theyre both totally using each other to work through their own issues without having real concern or empathy for each other or themselves!! the pretty obvious subtext here is that both of them were physically abused as children and have unhealed trauma from that - and now they are both triggering and re-traumatizing each other.

hugs for paris ??? hes earned them??? right now he would think you were trying to attack him, but he totally needs them. hes had it rough.

thank you so much for the commentary again :D !!! i always look forward to it. additional final shoutout to shavit for the johanna lore ^_^ we love mentally ill psychic children....

Crash Out - Joey

(Content: past abuse, whumper turned whumpee, beating, implied child abuse, claustrophobia mention, addiction mention, retraumatization, crying, guilt, self harm?, blood, brief weight talk)

Still shaking, still sick, Paris stared up blankly at the ceiling again, for want of anything better to do. The manacles chafed at his bare wrists, leaving a thick band of raw skin beneath. He’d gotten used to it.

“Did you go to a school when you were little?” He asked Johanna without looking at her.

Without looking back from the control panel, she answered: “I’m not that fucking stupid, am I?”

He shook his head — and the movement of the collar caused the chain to click against the tile.

“No. I mean, like, a special one. For psychics.” He explained vaguely. 

“I went to St.Holly’s Prep.” She answered curtly.

“Oh.” He deflated. 

He had hoped for something that might give his life a perfect symmetry. He wanted any sense of justice to fall back on, though he knew well enough not to truly expect it. His hand traced the collar again, taking slow and steady breaths. He breathed easier when he was flat on his back. Any sudden motion made him feel like he might faint, so he didn’t move at all. The lock picks were burning a hole in his pocket.

She’d missed them, somehow. She hadn’t been very deliberate in the pat down — and at this point, he was all angles. His own hipbone had been as hard and as pointed as the metal. 

He did not dare reach for them here in the dead of space. He’d be no better off once he was out of the chains. Paris knew, with total certainty, that he would not beat her in a fight. He didn’t even think he could do it healthy anymore, some new flinch mechanism that made him so tired of hitting and of being hit. He certainly could not do it in the thralls of withdrawal, not with the cracked rib and the hole through his hand. No opportunity presented itself. He was scared to.

The stygian depths appear every time he closed his eyes, dark blue, teeming. He was scared. Some ancient dread was settling onto him, sharp-toothed and feral. He missed Delta. 

It embarrassed him just how badly he missed Delta.

But when he dreamed, mercifully, it was of Lorelai. It was a frozen morning and the last night’s rain had crystallized against the pale bluegrass. Her hair was undone, hanging in limp curls against the fabric of her sweater. It was the last morning before the break. He’d given her clovers and coffee and jasmine perfume. He’d have given her anything, but he knew the wealth humiliated her. It was an affront for either of them to even wear the uniform.

All the same, her fingers had been lined with white gems that morning. They were impossible not to notice as he’d brought her hand up to his lips. He’d have done anything for her then. The memories bled out into the edges of his dreams.

His heart was all the way empty when he awoke. Lorelai was safer without him than she’d ever be with. It was cold comfort. He’d left her alone and limp in the dirt.

There was no day or night to follow, but the ship’s lights had dimmed. Paris thought it was another hallucination, another dream he couldn’t shake — but the soft sound of crying permeated and echoed throughout the ship. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness. 

She was whimpering in her sleep.

~

Johanna dreamed of something cold and breathing beneath the soft wet earth. She had the nightmare often. Big walls and little hands. A playful pulsing in each of them, turned violent and mean over time. She smiled because she could, because they always liked her. She smiled too wide and laughed too hard, some screw knocked loose, faulty wiring from having been hit in the head one too many times. A nervous laugh. Wide, pleading eyes.

She dreamt of a small box. She dreamed of a pulsing that grew into a frantic pounding — and a loving flesh that always come backs. It came back her no matter how many times they tried to kill her.

Johanna dreamt of a hole dug deep into the earth. She’s had the same nightmare since she was twelve — and though it gets better, it never really goes away. She woke up with her eyes still blotted with tears and for a minute she had forgotten where she was. 

From across the room, the captive prince stared at her unblinking, and she knew he had heard everything.

~

Several hours later, when they were both wide awake, Paris tried again.

“Did you know Martino?” he asked.

Immediately, he knew it was a mistake. He had about three seconds to flinch before she’d crossed the interior to him and hit him as hard as she possibly could. The intention had clearly been to knock him unconscious, but he’d recoiled fast enough that she mostly struck the side of his jaw. He gasped, sure for a second it’d been broken. There was no time to recover in between the blows. He only shielded his skull as Johanna slammed the cleat into his side, over and over again, breathing heavy. She tore his arms away, gripping the collar’s chain just to slam his head back into the wall, pinning him there.

But Johanna looked so lost. All her anger was thick with confusion. Her eyes searched him, up and down, as if something in his body might tell her.

“How-“ she asked desperately. “Who-“

Paris shivered, retreating, hiding his head again. It hurt. His ribs were so tender he could’ve cried. She released the chain around his neck, staggering a few steps back.

“Don’t say his name again,” she warned.

Paris nodded.

~

“Are you mad at me?” Paris asked. He was stupid and chastened, both knees drawn up to his chest.

Johanna sighed, sitting up against the starboard wall of the ship. She tossed a tennis ball idly, only occasionally glancing at the autopilot to see they were still on course. She did not dignify him with a response. 

“Did you know him? Delta. One Zero Seven.” Paris asked quietly.

It felt like it’d been ages since he’d said his name aloud. The sound of it hovered in the air, seemed to echo in a way the other words had not. He still remembered the numerals that followed, though by the time he first learned them, they’d lost all their usefulness. But to her, those numbers must have meant something. It’d be the only way to distinguish them.

“As if I’d remember any of them.” Johanna rolled her eyes.

Paris quieted, tucking his face back down into his arms. He only peeked up at her as she stood up, moving to check up on the air filter. 

“Do you hate me?” he asked.

He was surprised when she didn’t laugh. She only sighed again, eyes flitted up to the ceiling as if she was considering it.

“I didn’t before. I think I’m starting to.” She decided.

“Is that why?” He looped one finger in the collar, tugging it.

“Nope.”

In return, she tapped one finger to his nose, booping it gently. He still flinched.

“That’s just business.”

~

It ate at him. He turned restlessly within the chains. There was nothing to do and only her for company. She was taking him to be killed, to hurt the whole time he died, to be mutilated and changed. All his future seemed an endless void. All he could focus on was the past.

“What was it like?” he asked. There will be no other opportunities to ask, no other ways to know. He wondered if anyone else who went to that school was even alive anymore. Delta wasn’t. Was Johanna alive, really? 

He looked at her and he could not tell. 

She stood up from the console, visibly irritated at the fact he was still taking. Or maybe she just didn’t like his choice in conversation topic. Either way, he’d pissed her off.

“You want to know what it was like?” She asked incredulously.

He sat up and nodded his head. For a second, she just looked tired. She undid the belt from around her waist.

“Hands out. Now.”

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before. He’d gotten his knuckles rapped millions of times, had the cane brought down against each part of his body. None of it ever helped. By the time he graduated, he knew it was more about anger than it ever was about correction. This was no different.

Except that all the previous times, he did not have a knife wound piercing straight through the flesh of his hand. A white bandage had been bound tight around it ever since he’d been rescued. It still held. She’d seen it, of course. She had to have known. She didn’t care. 

They must not have either.

Paris offered both hands without resistance, surprising himself. Would she have forced him to if he hadn’t? For some reason, he didn’t think so. If he wasn’t playing along, he thought, she might just give up.

He held both palms facing upward. It was what he was used to, what he assumed she wanted, and he was willing to turn them if it wasn’t.

The belt was folded over. He kept still.

It was worse than he thought it’d be. He gasped in shock and pain at the sting. He’d been comparing it to the wrong injuries, expecting the wrong kind of pain. The belt hurt his right hand about as badly as when it’d first been punctured, about as bad as an arrow through his fucking ribcage. His eyes watered immediately.

He still tried to be steady as the belt came down against his hands again. Again. Again. He resisted the automatic curling of his fingers in an effort to protect himself. It was really nothing. He’d had so much worse. He didn’t know why he was crying so badly. 

The belt swung again. He only pulled his hand back just to quickly wipe at his eyes. She got mad.

“Paris,” she hissed, exasperated, and he couldn’t remember her ever using his name before this. “I can make this a lot worse for you and you know it.”

“Sorry,” he muttered as he offered the hand back.

Again. Again. He lost track, letting his vision blur just the same as the count. All the nerves in his hand were beaten almost numb, stinging. He couldn’t keep the tremor out of them. 

Johanna grumbled in frustration, pulling the belt back to her side. She was fumbling with the end of it.

“…Are we done?” he asked weakly. 

The belt buckle hit him square in the face, drawing a pained gasp from him. He reeled to the side, barely catching himself. Blood dripped readily from the gash in his cheek. In shock, he moved two finger up to touch it. Wet. Warm. 

“You don’t fucking ask when it’s over.” She barked.

He kept his eyes trained on the ground, half-curled away from her. The impact had whipped his head to the side and he did not correct it. 

He heard her readjusting the belt. For a second, he really did think she was finished. He let himself be fooled twice.

The buckle struck him again in the shoulder. It produced much less of a reaction than the strike to the face did, but he still cried. It was worse when he couldn’t see it, but he knew better than to try and turn around. He twitched at each new impact.

“You don’t understand!” She yelled. It was infantile. And it was wrong. He did.

Then again, he doubted she was even talking to him.

The metal snapped at the bare skin of his arm, once again at his back. He shifted one shoulder up to shield his still-bleeding face and endured the hit for it. It was only then she seemed to tire. It didn’t matter. He was sobbing. Though he tried to do it quietly, there was so little he could focus on besides his own misery. The effort was futile. He hardly noticed whether she was there or not, whether the beating had even stopped.

He tucked himself further into the far wall, unable to stop crying or to even be silent about it. She did not speak to him again for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~

thank you to @floral-comet-whump for getting me to canonize Johanna being from Beldam!!! that was always supposed to be the implication w her character but i wasnt sure about making it explicit until they had the idea of her being an experiment that beldam tried to kill and ended up BURYING ALIVE. that was too tasty to leave as subtext >:)

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @whump-queen

[reddeadsredhead]

Sean (to Arthur): I'm with ya brother

Arthur: This time I'll look and you provide the cover

Sean: I'll try me best, brother, but I think I'm seein' double here

And

Arthur (to Sean): I'm glad I'm not your brother

Sean: You are!

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Being someone who read Under The Red Hood and came out with the firm belief that, for Jason, it's not about killing Joker, it's about Jason wanting proof Batman would choose him over the Joker (bc shelia chose the joker). Makes seeing any other media where it's all about just wanting the Joker dead is a teeny bit frustrating. to be honest

Jason could've killed the Joker himself, really, really easily. Jason kidnaps the Joker before the confrontation. I can't open my comic for a reference right now, but it felt like he had the Joker for quite a bit before the confrontation. He had him. He beat him up with a crowbar. He had every single opportunity to kill the Joker himself, but he didn't because that wasn't his goal. Make no mistake, he did plan for the Joker to be dead by the end of it, but do you see what im trying to say here

Edit: If I knew this post was gonna get 1000+ notes I would've tried to word it better or something, this was a rant I made on the way to the grocery store 😭

It's not about making Batman kill either. When Batman says he won't kill, Jason adjusts and goes, 'Let ME kill the Joker or kill me to stop me' instead. The test is all about Batman choosing him. The whole final confrontation is Jason's first death again. The parent, The Joker, and the explosives. It even ends with Jason unable to move as a bomb goes off right next to him again because the parent didn't choose Jason. And instead tried finding an option that'd benefit them and (consequencely) letting the Joker walk, again, lol, lmao <-in agony

[mo-ok]

💛🌻✨ yellow ✨🌻💛

🌠

[vehemourn]

went to post this on twitter but i didnt wanna get banned . crazy that u can scrape my entire lifes work and i cant even tell u to die over it <3

[pseudophan]

gonna be so sad when tonight is the first preshow space with good audio and i'm asleep because i have a psych appointment tomorrow

[oceanwithouthermoon]

yeah im very adamant on calling people out when theyre being shitty. yeah im very sensitive and will get really sad when people get mad at me for it. so what

[worldsokayestdragon]

GreedxLing Week Day 1: Love Language

Read on AO3

Returning to Xing wasn't what Ling had expected when he'd left home all those months ago. So much had changed, it was hard to believe it had been less than a year since the first time he'd trekked through the desert with Lan Fan and Fu in tow, planning out his first steps for finding the philosopher’s stone and considering the best way to trick the emperor into believing he held the key to immortality for long enough for Ling to maneuver himself into power. Fu had advised him not to get too far ahead of himself, but Ling had refused to even entertain the notion that he might return empty handed. His clan was counting on him. Failure wasn't an option.

Now they were making the return trip with the Chang Clan heiress and a homunculus who until very recently had been coinhabiting Ling’s body. 

Lan Fan had lost her arm, and as guilty as Ling felt for dragging her into the fight that had claimed it, she wouldn’t let him apologize. She insisted it was her choice, and one she’d gladly make again, and he knew her well enough to recognize that if he kept feeling sorry for her she…probably wouldn’t actually punch him in the face–because that would be improper and against her vow to protect him–but she would be seriously tempted to do so. He didn’t mention it again.

And they were returning without Fu.

They were bringing him home, of course they were. They could hardly do otherwise. But it was only his remains making the journey in the urn Lan Fan insisted on carrying herself, carefully checking and repacking it every time they stopped to rest. The old man himself would never again walk at Ling’s shoulder and offer advice that Ling was often too stubborn and foolish to take.

Ling wished they could have stayed in Amestris a bit longer. Just to take some time to heal and rest, to adjust to everything. But the emperor’s health wouldn’t hold forever, and if one of his siblings ascended to the throne before Ling’s return then everything would be for nothing. And Lan Fan’s new automail made it crucial to get across the desert before the summer heat could settle in and threaten to burn her. 

Most importantly, Fu needed to be laid to rest properly, with full rites instead of the stopgap cremation ritual that Lan Fan had been taught as a child–because the life of a royal bodyguard was dangerous and often took one far from home to die. To truly let his spirit rest, Fu needed a real funeral. Getting that done as soon as possible was the least Ling owed to the man who had been like family to him, closer and more beloved than most of his blood relatives.

If Ling thought about that for too long he’d break down, and then Lan Fan would feel obligated to try and comfort him even though she’d lost so much more than he had. He couldn’t do that to her. He had to stay strong.

So he focused on easier things, like getting to know Mei Chang, and adjusting to Greed having a separate body.

The fact that bonding with the little sister he’d been raised to regard as an annoying obstacle at best, and a credible threat to his life at worst, qualified as “easier” was a testament to how out of control his life had gotten.

The fact that he felt the need to adjust to not sharing his body with the personification of a deadly sin was probably evidence that he’d gone completely insane.

He didn’t really know how to interact with either of them.

Mei didn’t seem to know how to interact with him either. She switched between regarding him with a suspicion that bordered on outright hostility, as she’d no doubt been taught to act around any competing heir, and a starry eyed admiration that came with repeated thanks for promising to protect her clan and offers to help him with anything he needed that frankly made Ling more uncomfortable than when she looked like she wanted to stab him. He didn’t know how to convince her that his commitment to bringing together all the clans was genuine and not dependent on her sucking up to him.

Also her tiny panda had bitten him like five times, and he didn’t heal as quickly as he used to.

And Greed. Greed was the same as he’d always been, probably, but Ling wasn’t used to observing him from the outside. He knew what the homunculus was thinking and feeling in any situation still, could make his stupid sarcastic jokes in unison with him most of the time, but that was just the knowledge of familiarity. He couldn’t hear the outline of Greed’s thoughts the way he used to, or feel the echoes of his emotions. And Ling was starting to realize that for as good as they’d gotten at communicating, their mental conversations maybe hadn’t been much like talking, because he found it difficult to put anything he wanted to say to Greed into words.

He wanted to say so much to Greed. He wanted to reassure him that they could still rule Xing together even if they were separate people now. Wanted to ask if Greed still wanted that, or if he’d rather find something of his own, even if Ling was scared of the answer to that question. He wanted to scream at Greed for being an idiot and trying to sacrifice himself, for lying to him, for almost leaving him behind. He wanted to beg Greed to never do that again, because Ling needed him, and missed him even when he was still here, and he didn’t know how he’d ever recover if Greed left him entirely.

Ling wanted to tell Greed he loved him, and that he thought Greed loved him too, thought he had felt it when Greed shoved Ling away to protect him at the cost of his own life.

But now that Greed was in his own body, looking like his old self and also an entirely new person to Ling, it was hard to be confident that he still felt the same, or even that he’d ever felt that way at all. Maybe Ling had been projecting, the confusion and emotion of that moment overwhelming him and making him feel what he wanted to feel from Greed. 

Certainly Greed hadn’t said anything to indicate he felt that way toward Ling since Lan Fan had flung the philosopher’s stone she’d been carrying into the homunculus’s dissipating form and–in an alchemic reaction that Ed said “made no sense” and “gave him a headache”–Greed’s body from before he’d been merged with Ling reformed around him.

Greed had let Ling scream at him for lying, and being a self sacrificing idiot, and scaring him, had let shove him and also let Ling cling to him and tell him to never do anything like that again. 

He’d apologized for hurting Ling, but notably didn’t say he was sorry for what he’d done or promise not to do it again. Ling had been a little tempted to stab him then, but he wasn’t sure how many times the incomplete philosopher’s stone inside him could heal him back up. He didn’t want to risk losing him again. (And, Greed had pointed out later, they’d need to “do the hammer trick” at least once to prove to the emperor that Greed was immortal. Ling had vague, second hand memories of “the hammer trick,” and he was sure they could come up with something a little less traumatizing.)

But other than the apology, Greed hadn’t really talked much to Ling after coming back to life. He didn’t even say that he planned to come back with them, just fell in step beside Ling as they headed out and asked how long it would take to get to Xing.

So Ling couldn’t know if Greed felt the way he did, and the thought of being wrong, of ruining the relationship they did have, kept him from asking. Every big, important thing Ling wanted to say to Greed got caught in his throat. 

Greed didn’t say anything either. Sometimes it seemed like he was about to. Ling knew him well enough to tell when he was working up to being honest in a way that wasn’t just not telling a lie, a way that was hard for him, but he never followed through. 

But even though they were completely failing to talk to each other, even though the silence was awkward and painful at times when Ling thought about how easily they’d talked and joked before, he couldn’t bring himself to leave Greed’s side for long. They were rarely out of arm’s reach of each other. Most often they stayed so close that Ling thought if it was anyone else he’d be freaked out by the invasion of his personal space.

It never felt like an invasion when it was Greed literally breathing down Ling’s neck, walking so close to each other it was frankly a miracle they didn’t trip over each other’s feet, sitting practically in each other’s laps by the campfire when the chill of the desert night set in. They’d given up the pretense of settling into separate bedrolls after the second time they’d woken up wrapped around each other in the sand between two unused piles of blankets. 

But for all that easy closeness, they still barely talked.

Ling couldn’t bring himself to talk to Greed, and he didn’t know how to talk to Mei, and Lan Fan never liked to talk about things before she’d had a chance to process them on her own, so Ling hardly dared to interrupt her grief with conversation. It was shaping up to be the most awkwardly silent trip in history.

Except actually Greed and Mei seemed to have no trouble talking to each other. Half the time the homunculus wasn’t right beside Ling it was because he’d walked off to talk to his little sister. She wasn’t nearly as standoffish with Greed, and he apparently had plenty to say to her. They got along great, other than the first time they’d talked, when Mei had squealed “Mister Greed, that’s so—” and Ling had never found out what that was so because Greed had clapped a hand over the girl’s mouth and hissed something at her, ignoring Xiao-Mei biting his hand in retaliation. 

Since then they had quiet conversations that cut off when Ling approached basically every day, and any time Ling asked Greed what they were talking about he just said “don’t worry about it,” or sometimes “wouldn’t you like to know,” which was the type of nonanswer he only gave when he wanted to keep something to himself without technically lying.

Ling watched the two of them conspiring or plotting or whatever it was they were doing, and had to firmly remind himself that he was not jealous of a thirteen-year-old who’d been forced to travel to a foreign country alone in a desperate bid to save the clan she was too young to bear responsibility for.

No matter how easily she got to talk to Greed.

Other than talking to Mei, the only times Greed left Ling’s side was when he’d seen something on the ground he wanted to investigate.

That at least was familiar. Ling remembered spending the winter trekking through Amestris, and how often Greed wandered off the trail to pick up a shiny rock or a weird shaped stick or a bottle cap with an interesting logo to shove in their pocket. Ed griped at him constantly for wasting time picking up trash, but that had never stopped Greed.

What was weird now was that Greed always looked at whatever he picked up critically instead of pocketing it and rejoining the group immediately. He twisted the objects this way and that, examined them in the light, and most of the time he dropped them again as if he’d found them lacking. 

Maybe admitting to himself that what he really wanted was people to care for had eased his compulsion to collect whatever caught his eye.

(Maybe having Ling around was enough, even if it wasn’t the same as it had been. Maybe he was satisfied to have a friend, and Ling could be satisfied with that too, even if neither of them ever made a move to make it something more. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.)

The first time Greed found something that met his new standards, it was nearing sunset on their first day in the desert between Amestris and Xing. Greed split off from the group and came back with a rock worn smooth by the blowing sands. The sunlight shone on the rock’s surface, and revealed little clusters of sparkles when Greed twisted it at the right angle. In different lighting it would probably look like an unremarkable gray lump, but it was beautiful in the moment. Ling understood why Greed decided to pick it up.

He didn’t understand why, instead of shoving it in his own pocket as usual, Greed held it out for Ling.

“Here,” he said, looking at Ling expectantly. “Take it.”

“Um, okay?”

Ling held out his hand and Greed tipped the rock into it. It was smooth as marble, and warm from lying in the sun. It fit perfectly in Ling’s palm. He absently ran his thumb over the surface as he looked back at Greed.

Greed had a concerningly smug look on his face. 

Suddenly suspicious, Ling asked, “Are you trying to make me carry your stuff so you can pick up even more rocks?”

The smug smile disappeared from Greed’s face. 

“No, It’s–ugh nevermind!”

Ling watched, bemused, as Greed stomped away, as much as anyone could stomp over shifting sand, to talk to Mei. The girl patted him comfortingly on the arm and shot Ling a dirty look that he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve.

Ling tucked the rock carefully into his pocket for safekeeping, and then hurried to catch up with Lan Fan and offer to help her find a good campsite.

A few days later, as they were approaching an oasis midway between the Amestran border and the ruins of Xerxes, Greed once again found something he deemed worthy of hanging on to. 

The oasis was one of the better documented sources of water on the journey through the desert and trade caravans came through the area regularly. They’d been seeing little bits and bobs that must have fallen off a wagon throughout the day. Greed had stopped to investigate most of it, but only found one thing he actually liked. 

Once again, Greed carried his find over to Ling, this time keeping whatever it was closed in his fist as he offered it.

“Here. I want you to keep this. Not carry it for me.”

“...Right.” Ling decided not to comment on Greed’s weird behavior, instead just holding out his hand under Greed’s

A ring dropped into Ling’s palm, a black band set with a purple gemstone almost the exact color of Greed’s eyes. 

The stone was fake, Ling could tell right away. He didn’t know if Greed couldn’t tell or just didn’t care. For all his talk about appreciating the finer things, Greed didn’t actually put much stock into how expensive or high quality anything was, perfectly content with costume jewelry as long as it was suitably flashy. 

This ring actually wasn’t nearly as gaudy as Greed’s tastes normally ran. It black band was simple, etched with a subtle geometric pattern that was only visible up close. The single stone was large, but not ridiculously so, not something that was deliberately ostentatious.  

Ling actually liked it, and maybe it was unbecoming of a future Emperor of Xing, but Ling found he didn’t care much more than Greed did about having only expensive belongings just to prove he could afford them.

Greed shifted anxiously, and Ling realized he’d been silently staring at the ring for long enough for it to get uncomfortable.

“Thank yo–”

“We must hurry, my lord.” Lan Fan called, interrupting Ling’s thanks. “We need to reach the oasis before sundown if we hope to replenish our supplies tonight and get an early start tomorrow.”

Ling knew most people would think she sounded perfectly respectful, as befitted a bodyguard speaking to her master. But he also knew her well enough to hear how annoyed she was getting with the hold up.

“Coming Lan Fan!” he called. Turning to Greed he added, “We’d better go before she decides to stab you.”

Greed looked a little disappointed, but nodded, easily matching Ling’s pace as they began to walk again. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t really want to fight her.”

“Because you don’t fight women?” Ling asked.

Greed hummed in agreement and Ling rolled his eyes.

“That’s such an old fashioned attitude. She could beat you easily, especially if you do that thing where you refuse to use your full shield until you’re already losing.”

Greed looked at Ling like he was stupid. 

“Of course she could. She’s insane. I guess you never met my ‘sister’ before she bit the dust, but she was fucking terrifying. And Martel was–” Greed cut himself off, looked away for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. “Ed’s teacher took out my whole crew single handedly once. That Winry girl’s not even a fighter and she tossed us and Darius and Heinkel and those two Briggs guys out of her room like it was nothing. Not to mention your little sister being–”

“Wait,” Ling interrupted Greed’s list. “Are you saying you’re ‘not the kind of guy who fights women’ because you think all women can kick your ass?”

“I don’t think all women can kick my ass,” Greed argued. “I just think women who like to fight are more likely to kick my ass than men, which is not fun for me, and women who don’t fight probably have no idea how to because of stupid human gender rolls, so I’d feel shitty for beating them up. Also the one time I tried to fight Lust she backed me into a corner and slashed my arms off like ten times in a row while saying I should never hit a lady, so. Don’t really want to do that again.”

Ling burst out laughing as they hurried to catch up with Lan Fan, and ignored Greed’s protests about his reasoning making perfect sense.

He slipped the ring onto his finger as they walked.

He didn’t miss Greed’s pleased smile.

They reached Xerxes before midday, and decided to rest there and head out again the next morning. 

Greed announced that he was going to take a look around the place. When Ling stood to go with him he added that he wanted to go alone.

Ling tried to hide his hurt and disappointment at that. He had thought they’d been getting a little more comfortable around each other the last few days.

He must not have succeeded, because Greed suddenly looked panicked and added, “I mean alone for now! We can go together later, that would be cool. But you should…rest! Because you need more of that than me. And you should let me find places that are safe to explore first since you’re all human now and…squishy.” He winced at his own word choice. “Okay, see you later, bye!” 

Greed all but fled from where they’d settled in the shade of a ruined building, and Ling watched him go.

Greed was being very weird since the Promised Day. Well, he was always weird, but now it was obvious even to Ling, who’d mostly gotten used to his baseline bizarre behavior. 

Greed almost never said what he meant, for all that he didn’t lie, but he was normally way smoother at talking his way around things. Smooth enough that he could even fool himself into believing his bullshit.

And Ling couldn’t figure out why Greed kept giving him stuff. Sure, his whole “I want everything” routine was just a cover for the fact that he couldn’t even admit to himself that he just wanted friends. Ling was able to tell that almost right away, once they joined up with Ed and he let himself think of Greed as something other than an enemy he had to resist. 

But he’d never picked up on any real inclination to give things away, no matter how much he cared about the people around him more than he’d ever let on. He also liked having stuff. And yet he hadn’t kept any of the things he’d picked up on their journey.

Ling could hear Greed make his way through the ruined city streets. He was not gifted in stealth, much to the dismay of their traveling companions when they’d been trying to evade the Amestran military over the long months of winter. 

It sounded like he was digging through the rubble and flipping stones too big for a human hands to easily move. Ling wondered what he hoped to find. The place had been abandoned for generations. Then again, most people left it alone rather than ransacking it, out of respect for the terrible tragedy that had happened here, so maybe there was something worth finding. 

Ling was considering whether he should tell Greed to stop rifling through the remains of a dead civilization when Greed made a triumphant noise and the sounds of digging through rubble stopped, replaced by the sounds of sprinting back towards the rest of them.

Greed audibly stopped running just around the corner of their makeshift shelter and then strolled casually into sight. Ling very kindly refrained from laughing at the terrible attempt at acting like he hadn’t been rushing back. Mei had to turn away and disguise her giggles as a cough, and Lan Fan didn’t bother to hide her judgemental stare. 

Greed looked a little excited and a little nervous as he walked over to Ling, though Ling wasn’t sure if someone who hadn’t spent a few months inside Greed’s head would be able to see that through the false air of confidence he’d put on. He was holding something behind his back.

Greed stopped directly in front of Ling and said, “I found this for you,” before all but shoving the hidden object into Ling’s hands.

It was a dagger in a sheath that had maybe once been brightly painted but had long since faded to the barest hints of a pattern. The hilt and cross guards formed elegant curves,  and there was a blue jewel inset in the pommel. Ling drew the blade, and though it had long lost its edge, it must have been well made and also incredibly sheltered from the elements wherever Greed had dug it out from, because it was in remarkable condition for how old it must have been. It would probably only need a little bit of maintenance to be usable. 

It was a beautiful weapon, but also a practical one, lacking in the tacky extra spikes and jagged edges that Ed liked to give things, and that Greed had often praised as looking “pretty sweet.” It was obvious that Greed had picked it with Ling’s tastes in mind.

“Thank you,” Ling breathed. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

He looked up from the blade to find Greed grinning at him, somewhere between elated and self satisfied.

“I don’t have anything for you,” Ling added, suddenly feeling guilty for taking so many gifts from Greed without offering something in return. “I could go find–”

“You don’t have to,” Greed interrupted, still smiling. “I mean, you can if you want. You know I’ll never say no to a present. But you don’t have to. I didn’t give it to you so you’d give me something.”

“Why did you, then?” Ling asked.

The smile slipped off of Greed’s face, but before Ling could freak out about making him sad, Lan Fan and Mei both groaned in frustration, in a display of synchronicity that Ling didn’t think boded well for his future well being.

“Ling Yao, you are so stupid!” Mei exclaimed. She sounded less hostile than he might have expected with that statement. Her tone almost reminded him of when Al would sometimes despair over what an idiot his big brother was.

“He’s not the only problem,” Lan Fan argued. “Greed, you need to stop acting like a child and use your words.”

Ling was officially lost. He looked between his three companions in hopes of finding a clue to what was happening, and was completely disappointed in that hope. 

“Lan Fan, do you know what’s going on?” Ling asked. 

“Of course I do!” she snapped before taking a deliberate breath and continuing in something closer to her normal calm and respectful way of speaking to him. Ling could still clearly hear her holding herself back from calling him an idiot.

“Ling, you are my prince, my lord, my future emperor. I would follow you anywhere, I would kill and die for you, and I know you will be a good king to our people. But I cannot deal with this foolishness another second. It was a nice distraction at first, but it’s gone on for far too long.”

She turned away from him to speak to Mei. “I'm going for a walk. Would you like to join me, Princess?”

“Yes, actually,” Mei chirped, hopping to her feet. “ I wanted to take a look around and see if I could find any surviving records of the types of alchemy that were studied here. Hopefully something that doesn’t involve human sacrifice for a change.”

“Wait,” Greed said, sounding slightly panicked. “Mei, you said you wanted to help me.”

“I did want to help you, mister Greed, but Lan Fan’s right. This is taking too long. You two need to sort this out before we get back, or we’re kicking both of your butts, okay?”

Lan Fan, alarmingly, did not object to the idea of Mei kicking Ling’s butt, and instead calmly walked away with the younger girl.

Ling looked back at Greed, who was staring after Mei like a man lost at sea watching his last hope of rescue disappear over the horizon.

“Do you know what we're supposed to be working out?” Ling asked, watching Greed's attention snap to him in a wide eyed stare. “Because I really don't want to get beat up by my little sister and my best friend. Actually, I think I liked it better when they hated each other.”

“Right,” Greed said. He took a deep breath and shook his arms out, his expression settling into something more calm and confident that was almost convincing. “I can use my words, no problem. I don't act like a child.”

“Of course,” Ling agreed, trying to sound encouraging. 

Privately he had his doubts. This sounded like it was going to be a serious conversation, and while Greed has many strengths and good qualities, the ability to talk about serious things–or gods forbid his own emotions–was not one of them. He hadn't even been able to tell the difference between wanting world domination and wanting friends until Ling spelled it out for him.

Ling thought he might know what this was about, or hoped he did anyway. But he wouldn't push. If he was wrong it would be awful, and if he was right then it was best to let Greed try and get it out on his own time.

“I want–I mean I–you’re so–” Greed cut himself with a muttered curse. “Let me start over?”

“Sure. Take your time.”

Greed took a few more breaths, looking everywhere but at Ling, before seeming to gather the nerve to continue.

“I want to rule Xing with you,” Greed said in a rush, so fast Ling could hardly make out the words. “I mean, if that offer's still on the table. If I didn't screw it up forever with the lying to you and almost dying and making you waste that philosopher's stone to save my ass. I really hope I didn't screw it up?”

That wasn't exactly what Ling had wanted to hear, but it was still good. It meant Greed wanted to stay with him, and Ling wanted to rule Xing together too. That could be enough. It really could.

He refused to let himself be disappointed.

“You didn't screw anything up,” he reassured. “Of course the offer still stands. I thought that was obvious when you decided to come back with us.”

Greed shook his head. “No–well yes, but. What I mean is…we aren't sharing the same body anymore.”

“Yes, I've noticed that.” Ling agreed slowly, once again lost as to what Greed was even talking about.

“Right. Of course you have. Obviously.”  Greed waved his hand vaguely, as if shooing away Ling’s comment. “So, now we’re two different people. I mean we always were, but like, legally or whatever. And, you know, normally if two different people are ruling a country together it’s because they’re together. I guess usually married, technically.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

That was actually a bit more than Ling had been hoping for, to be honest. But Greed never did anything halfway.

Before Ling could say anything, Greed’s mind visibly caught up with his mouth. His face turned a very interesting shade of red.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I–” Greed waved both hands in the space between them, like he could maybe catch and take back the words. “I don’t mean we should get married right now! Or ever, if you don’t want. We really haven’t known each other that long, even if it feels like I’ve known you forever. I just meant–I really want to stay with you, and not just because I want to rule a country. So maybe we could date? Or something? God, I sound like an idiot! Forget I said anything, I’m just gonna go dig a hole and bury myself for a few hours. Or years.”

Greed turned away, and Ling just managed to shake himself out of his shock in time to catch his hand before he could make a break for it. 

Greed could have pulled away easily. There was no way Ling, who was back to being an ordinary human, could have held a homunculus who really didn’t want to stay put. But Greed didn’t pull away. Instead he stopped like he was rooted to the ground. He looked down at where their hands were joined between them, then twisted his so he could interlock their fingers.

Ling couldn’t stop the huge smile growing across his face, no doubt completely goofy and undignified, and not even serving a purpose like the ones he used to put on for his airheaded prince act. He didn’t really care.

“I don’t think you sound like an idiot,” Ling said. “I want to stay with you not just to rule a country too.”

Greed eyes darted up from their hands to look searchingly at Ling’s face. “Really?” He asked.

Of course, for all Greed’s blustering self aggrandizement, he really didn’t think very highly of himself. Ling might be the only one to know the truth of that, so he knew how hard it must have been for Greed to come out and say that he wanted to be with Ling, without even hiding behind some convoluted speech about wanting to own him.

It gave Ling the courage to do something hard himself.

“Yes, really. Couldn’t you feel it when we were sharing a body?” Ling really hadn’t thought he’d been subtle, but Greed just tilted his head in question. “Greed, I love you.”

Greed gasped, looking at Ling like he’d just performed a miracle. He raised his free hand and gently, almost hesitanty, cupped the side of Ling’s face. 

“I–” Greed started, and then gave up trying to talk in favor of leaning forward and kissing Ling.

It was a chaste kiss, just a brush of their lips really, and Ling wasn’t sure if Greed was being considerate for his comparative lack of experience, or if the vulnerability of the moment had made the homunculus feel uncertain in the action himself. 

Either way, that simple press of lips felt amazing, electric in a way it maybe didn’t have any right to. A part of Ling would probably always miss the closeness of sharing his body with Greed, but now he realized that having their own bodies opened up a lot of exciting new possibilities.

All too soon, Greed pulled away again. He stared into Ling’s eyes, looking every bit as dazed and happy as Ling felt.

“I love you too,” Greed said, his voice barely above a whisper but the only thing Ling could hear. 

Greed’s new old body was taller, and Ling had to reach up to wrap a hand around the back of his head and tug him down into another, deeper kiss. But Greed leaned back in so easily he barely had to pull, so that was okay.

Eventually they’d need to talk more, about what they both wanted, about how to frame their relationship to the emperor and the people of Xing so it wouldn’t hurt their chances at the throne. But all of that could wait. For now, Ling was more than happy to let the world fall away as he stood in the ruined city and kissed the man he loved.

When the girls returned to find them like that, Mei seemed torn between finding the romance sweet and being disgusted by her brother kissing someone. She landed on disgusted, sticking her tongue out and saying, “Blech! Do that somewhere else!” before flopping down next to her bags and pulling out a notebook, presumably to take note of whatever alchemical oddities she’d spotted on her walk.

Lan Fan still looked tired and sad, and probably would for a long time yet, but when she smiled at Ling he could tell it was genuine. “I’m happy for you, young lord,” she said, and her voice sounded lighter than he’d heard it since before she cut off her arm.

So much had changed since he’d set off for Amestris nearly a year ago, and Ling had lost things he would never get back. But he’d gained more than he’d ever thought to dream as well. 

As he sat in the ruins of the city whose destroyer they had helped defeat, with his best friend, the little sister he never thought he’d be allowed to care for, and the love of his life by his side, Ling thought he’d be ready for whatever changes the future might hold.

[perenlop]

something that may raise some eyebrows. but i am sort of exhausted of censoring my own experiences and treating life before coming out as a part of me that shouldn't be talked about in fiction.

[1nv1s1bl3-r41ndr0p5]

these exams are killing me man and they haven't even started yet.

[lecliss]

The choice from Sunday is kinda weird cuz the options are build a cage in the house for the bird or build a nest where it fell and one leads to the bird growing up but dying once its set free and the other one probably leads to it dying much sooner. They both feel like the same option and even tho obviously the most kind, caring, morally right thing to do is keep it inside so at least it lives longer even if it's in a cage. But like to me both options suck and are basically nothing cuz I'm sorry if I look like a bad person for this, but I'm not sorry, but I'm not fuckin touching a wild animal. Even if I knew it was there even if I bothered to check out the sound to find a bird, which I wouldn't, I'm not touching it. I'm not even getting close enough to find out it's too young to fly yet. Whatever happens to it happens man and I'll never know what happens to it cuz I'm not even gonna look at it. Like, where's the 'you seem like an asshole but really it's quite a normal choice' in this whole trial thing??? That's usually an option you can pick. Sunday!!! Sunday, listen!!! There are more than two choices!!! You don't have to always do something!!!! You can just walk away!!! You don't have to try to do something for everyone all the time!!! Think about yourself sometimes!!! It's not selfish I promise!!! SUNDAY!!! OH MY GOD HIS WINGS ARE COVERING HIS EARS HE CANT HEAR US!!!!

[pilonciillo]

i genuinely don’t know how i’m supposed to act at my age

[the-blue-phantom]

finished playing KEY and had a good time. its a definite improvement over MID, but the new controls definitely take some getting used to. one i always had trouble with was rotating objects to observe them, because once it got slightly out of my control i couldn't reorient it easily.

otherwise, i enjoyed the puzzles (and how many more there were compared to MID. one of my favorites was the play script puzzle), even if some were definitely not the most intuitive/i needed more information for them. some of the new functions, like texting, are fun additions

my major complaints honestly were that despite adding in a bunch of things, the game felt emptier than, like, SEA, especially when it came to the phone calls. why do you keep sending me to voice mail boys. and i think the ending had a lot that was thrown at once, but it didnt ruin it for me/i think other games have been equally as rushed/busy

point is i'm interested to see where they go next with these games

[johanthefriskiestofbits]

oooooo please tell me (who knows nothing on the subject) about orv swap au

hehehe. hehehehehehe. hehehehehehehhehehehhheheheh <- guy who is so normal

the premise of orv swap au (name has yet to be finalized) is this: what if kdj and yjh swapped narrative positions (reader <-> character) but very little else? what if a video game player enters a time loop to save his favorite character from dying over and over again and also to end the apocalypse?

admittedly it's not super fleshed out yet (a lot of the changes this premise would introduce are still not hammered out yet) but here are some points under the cut (novel spoilers ahead!)

orv swap au starts with pro gamer yjh who feels :/ abt his job, but hey, it pays the bills. despite (or maybe because of) his relative popularity as a pro gamer and networking with the agency/sponsors/people to impress, he's kind of isolated in a way that's detrimental, a facade of someone he's not whenever he's on camera

something to play around with is the idea of agency? maybe this yjh doesn't feel like he has any and has his hands tied between the lifestyle and being under public scrutiny and not having enough of a support system to leave everything behind. maybe he doesn't know what else he would even do. maybe he's aimless and drifting with nothing to hold on to.

his favorite video game is what i've been thinking of as World's Hardest To Play Indie Game (not based on difficulty but just on the experience of consuming it) a boring, exposition heavy, player-hostile, poorly designed, slightly buggy mess of a barely-playable game: twsa, a game that was not finished upon release and experiences with sporadic updates every now and then.

the ending tree to this game is so convoluted its insane. also theres no save states so if you die (very likely) u restart babeyyy.

twsa (video game) does have multiple endings, all of which happen when kdj, your main character, dies. some are farther into the apocolypse than others, some paths require meta knowledge of future events or character actions or items or whatever. the "true ending" is either analogous to the original 1863: kdj makes it to the end at the cost of everyone he loves, or hsy's modified 1863: kdj makes himself enemy of the scenario to secure a way out for the kimcom remnants.

there's branches on the choices tree where everyone dies and everything sucks and is bad forever and theres choices to make where kdj gets to make a family and they don't really get to settle down but they can get pretty close to it among the ruins of the apocalypse. through all his testing, yjh finds that these endings are nice but peter out - to get to the end of the apocalypse yjh has to claw his way there inch by painful inch, through betrayal and sacrifice, and he still cant fully get past it

i originally wanted to finagle a yoohankim 3 way swap but i couldn't figure it out. swap aus are a lot easier to work with when they're even numbers, at least to me, so this au features a ysa who is a video game company employee by day and by night she really has become god this time (and also a terrible indie dev). and this is how jungdoksang can still win !!!!

also yjh's coworker from Real Life hsy :) i haven't decided if she's like an employee for the same agency, or if she's someone else in the gaming circles that yjh interacts with sometimes (in my heart theyre in like some sort of discord server together), or something like that but she's around. whatever she does she is twitter cancelled for something. to me.

the only other character swaps are lsk and yma. yma is yjh's estranged sister (in broad strokes there's a vague bad parent situation going on here) (they used to be close until they drifted apart and slowly started hating each other [there is an abyss between them that neither of them can bridge]) (he feels that she betrayed him and threw him under the bus so he left [maybe he gets kicked out]) (she feels that he abandoned her to whatever situation they have going on [he didn't even try to take her with him]) and he has to find her when the apocalypse starts. yjh older sibling to yma gives us a whole different little dynamic to explore from kdj ysk (there's different levels of responsibility and guilt and blame when you're talking siblings that are soooooo interesting to me. sorry that i see any set of siblings and immediately try to figure out how to make them worse)

lsk is kdj's mom who appeared into existence at some point with kdj and they were both just adults. that's weird isn't it. oh well. i guess she can become a transcendent later too for funsies

everyone else stays in the same configuration of Real Person vs Character to me this is a very important aspect

this point has no precedent with the swap, nothing particular that would change to cause this, but it would be so funny if lgy was a little gamer boy who is an avid yjh hater. hates that guy. shows up to competitions to boo him. tunes into yjh's silent no-mic speedrunning streams to mald in chat but yjh +mods don't ban him bc its kinda funny.

anyways the apocalypse starts when yjh and his coworker/fellow gamer hsy are on a train to twitchcon and lgy is also there (also headed to twitchcon) and he brings bugs because he likes them but also to sabotage yjh specifically. its just funny if this happened. you understand

instead of having reader-related skills and abilities, yjh's skills are video game player based! he gets flavor text insight on people, location, and items, things like that. notably, he has the ability to reset, to bring himself back to the beginning of the apocalypse

orv swap proper follows yjh as the Player of the Game (Consumer of the Narrative) who lives hundred of lifetimes in this ruined-world-become-reality "replaying" [read: time looping through] the game to reshape it to save his fave character from self implosion (kdj with no dissociation is very prone to dying. all the time.). to revisit the idea of playing with yjh and the idea of agency, of creation, the only way to get past the apocalypse is to go off the beaten path, to choose options that weren't even there in the game. when in space, at his darkest point, yjh becomes a writer. in this story, at his darkest point, he has to become a creator too

please do not ask me how the epilogues go i dont know how the epilogues go (i don't want to throw yjh back into a train for milennia after he Just went through a thousand resets so i'm sending kdj for that but i havent fully planned how or why)

anyways, hope that helps!!! :)

[saisons-en-enfer]

Always an ephemeral presence, only noticed when I'm there

and even when I'm there, I'm really not