#but obviously we see only just a fraction of their lives

[thefirstknife]

Go off! It's the Cinemasins Effect. There is no literary analysis, just listing of facts like you're reading a Wikipedia summary. Devoid of accounting for personality traits, external influences, basic human (or alien) contradictory nature, unreliable narration (always present in Destiny), multiple points of view that are clashing (because that's how the world works), etc., these facts tell us little about the actual story so it's easy to misinterpret obvious solutions.

A listed fact might say "Eramis endangered her own house by opening the Vex portal on Europa" and then whenever Eramis talks about caring for her people, someone who engages with only the list might think "That makes no sense!" And it does, if we go deeper and account for her desperation and corruption and how much she did not understand what was happening to her. She desperately tried proving that she has agency, but it was the exact opposite; while fleeing from the Traveler claiming not wanting to be its pawn, she was actually the pawn of the Witness. She was used by the Witness to get us, the real target, to be tempted with stasis and the moment she lost (no longer worthy of being a part of the final shape), she was discarded. However, not entirely, because she still had to remain a pawn potentially to be used later when the Witness needs a convenient and desperate soldier to enact its plans under a threat of a total annihilation of her people; because that's what the Witness does. She literally commented on this, how the Witness is "punishing her" by turning her friends into Scorn.

But we never see even a fraction of this kind of analysis in the most popular circles and "lore masters" will always prioritise just listing events and doing "Ending EXPLAINED!" videos with zero character motivations or analysis mentioned. I won't even go into how much of Destiny story is obviously constricted by technical elements and the type of game it is, which is something people forget all the time and expect Destiny to suddenly have a singleplayer RPG level of game design which simply will not happen. A lot of the perceived faults in the narrative are almost always of technical nature and writers themselves have spoken about this. I feel like that has to be included in any analysis worth a damn because Destiny's story is trapped within the confines of the genre of media it is in (first person looter shooter); while the story is a major part of the game's essence, gameplay comes first, always. If the story has to be constrained for gameplay purposes, it will be. If it has to be constrained because there's not enough time or resources to add more dialogues or cutscenes or to expand the scope of every character or to create a more complex narrative, it will be. Given all of this, I think the team has done a great job for Eramis over the years and kept her arc as consistent as possible which made this ending easy to predict and satisfying because the arc has concluded as it was intended.

At the end of the day, I don't even mind if people have a personal reason to think "Actually I would never have forgiven Eramis." I'm sure there are characters in-setting who think that; either because of a lack of knowledge about her (if you're just some random citizen, you don't know the details of her corruption or her internal feelings) or because you were personally victimised by her (a lot of Eliksni fled House Salvation because of what she did on Europa that endangered their lives; they may never be ready to forgive her or accept her). That's completely fine. As a matter of fact, I expect it! It adds depth to the story.

The issue is that these people usually go about it by blaming the writers and saying that the writers told their own story wrong. That this decision was objectively incorrect or somehow bad for the narrative or a retcon or out of character or whatever. And it's just not. We, the players, who have all information and everyone's internal feelings presented in the story and lore books, know that this was the intended character arc for Eramis since the moment she didn't get killed at the end of Beyond Light.

Eramis Executors are up in arms that our favorite, bitter, lesbian crab didn’t receive a bullet to her head to no one’s surprise. What happened to the overarching themes involving forgiveness and mending the wounds of the past to build a better future for everyone resonating with people? Does the Traveler and what it has been representing for 10 years mean nothing when it comes to Eramis? Were we supposed to abandon the power of friendship? Is punishment with no consideration the only way of dealing with those who have committed wrong acts that people know of?

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 15: It Runs In The Blood

Logan's brother, Victor, has to stay at the apartment for a few days. Things go downhill from here.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, dark background, mentions of abuse.

A/N: hello? anyone here? doesn't seem like anyone's in the mood right now with everything going on💀 I'm definitely not going to talk about Hugh as enough people already do on this app (and because of the rumors and I don't know Hugh personally to judge obviously) so I'll just continue posting my fics about Logan as I only care about this specific fictional character of "his" (well, debatable cause what you're about to read kinda show the opposite...oops). So if you're still here! Enjoy!

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

The knock at the door was sharp and impatient, echoing through the apartment and drawing Logan’s attention away from the pan he was scrubbing. He stiffened, his grip tightening on the sponge for a fraction of a second before he turned off the faucet.

“He’s here,” Logan muttered, more to himself than to Wade and Y/N, who were seated in the living room.

Wade, sprawled comfortably on the couch, raised an eyebrow. “Let the circus begin,” he quipped, earning a glare from Logan.

Y/N glanced at Logan, noticing the way his jaw clenched as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. He moved to the door with deliberate steps, and she found herself exchanging a look with Wade, who gave her a small, almost imperceptible shrug.

When Logan opened the door, the man on the other side radiated trouble. Victor’s smirk was sharp and mocking, a warning in itself, and his presence seemed to fill the space with an unspoken tension. There was something about him—the way his cold eyes lingered and his confidence bordered on chaos—that immediately set anyone on edge.

“Logan,” Victor drawled, stepping forward without waiting for an invitation. “Long time no see, little brother.”

“Victor,” Logan replied evenly, his tone devoid of emotion. He didn’t step aside until Victor had no choice but to pause, forcing his smirk to falter for a second. Logan’s silent assertion of control didn’t go unnoticed.

Victor’s eyes scanned the room, landing on Wade first. “Well, if it isn’t the comedian,” he remarked with mock amusement. “Still serving beers?”

Wade didn’t miss a beat, leaning back on the couch with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Still making everyone regret inviting you anywhere? Guess we both have our talents.”

Victor chuckled, but the sound was hollow. “Always a smartass.”

Then his gaze shifted to Y/N, and his smile widened. The shift in his expression made her instinctively straighten in her seat.

“And you must be Y/N,” Victor said, his tone warmer but not necessarily kinder. “Logan mentioned you in passing, but he didn’t do you justice.”

Logan stepped in, his voice firm. “Victor.”

Victor held up his hands in mock innocence. “What? I’m just saying hello.”

Y/N stood, forcing a polite smile. “Nice to meet you,” she said, extending a hand.

Victor took it, holding it just a moment too long. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he replied, his voice low.

Logan’s glare was sharp enough to cut glass. “Come on. Let’s get this done with.”

Victor finally let go of Y/N’s hand, following Logan down the hall to the spare room. Wade leaned toward Y/N, his voice low.

“Yeah, he’s a real charmer,” Wade muttered.

Y/N nodded, exhaling the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I can see that.”

In the hallway, Logan pushed open the door to the spare room and gestured for Victor to enter.

“Here. This is where you’ll stay,” Logan said curtly.

Victor glanced around, unimpressed. “Cozy,” he remarked, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed. He turned back to Logan, his smirk returning. “So, how’ve you been, little brother? Still trying to play the good guy?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not doing this.”

Victor’s laugh was sharp. “Oh, come on. You can’t avoid it forever. You invited me here, remember?”

“Because you needed a place to crash,” Logan shot back. “That’s it. Don’t read into it.”

Victor stepped closer, his smirk fading into something harder, more pointed. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still the same stoic, uptight kid who thought he could fix everything. Newsflash, Logan—you can’t.”

Logan’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Victor standing in the doorway of the spare room.

When Logan returned to the living room, his face was a mask of calm, but Y/N could see the tension in his shoulders.

“He settled in?” Wade asked, his tone deliberately light.

Logan gave a terse nod. “Yeah.”

“Great,” Wade said with mock enthusiasm. “This is going to be fun.”

Y/N glanced at Logan, whose eyes met hers briefly before he looked away. She wanted to say something, to ask if he was okay, but the set of his jaw made her hesitate.

Victor reappeared moments later, his smirk firmly back in place. “So, what’s for dinner?” he asked, his tone far too casual.

Logan didn’t answer, heading back to the kitchen instead. Victor’s gaze lingered on Y/N as he sauntered into the living room.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer. He dropped onto the couch beside Wade, who leaned as far away as possible.

Victor’s presence was suffocating, his aura of dominance and sarcasm filling every corner of the apartment. Y/N felt her unease growing with each passing second, but she refused to let it show.

Wade, as always, tried to break the tension. “So, Victor, what do you do when you’re not being a professional pain in the ass?”

Victor chuckled darkly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Wade grinned. “Not really, but it seemed like the polite thing to ask.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly, though the sound felt out of place in the thick tension. Logan, still in the kitchen, glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her laugh. His eyes softened briefly before he returned to his task, the storm inside him momentarily quelled.

Victor leaned back against the couch, casually tossing an arm over the backrest. “So, Y/N, tell me everything. What do you do? You seem far too composed to be hanging around these two frauds.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, but Wade jumped in before she could answer.

“She’s a teacher,” Wade said with exaggerated pride, as if he were announcing a Nobel laureate. “High school, no less. Molding young minds, breaking hearts.”

Victor’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “A teacher? That explains the composure.” His gaze lingered on her, and Y/N felt an uncomfortable heat creep up her neck. “What do you teach?”

“English,” Y/N replied, keeping her tone polite but clipped.

“Ah, literature,” Victor mused, his smirk widening. “All those love stories and tragedies. Let me guess—you’re the kind of teacher who inspires her students to dream big and follow their hearts?”

Logan reappeared from the kitchen, holding a tray of plates. “Victor,” he said sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Victor glanced at him, clearly amused by the interruption. “What? I’m just making conversation.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Logan said, ignoring his brother’s smirk as he set the plates on the table.

The group moved to the dining table, Wade sliding into his chair with a theatrical sigh. “Finally, I’m starving. You know, Victor, you’re lucky Logan’s cooking. If it were up to me, we’d be eating microwave burritos.”

Victor chuckled, sitting down across from Y/N. “Sounds about right. Always relying on Logan to take care of things, huh?”

Wade grinned, unbothered. “Absolutely. Why mess with a winning system?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to Y/N, who was carefully avoiding Victor’s gaze as she picked up her fork. He could see the tension in her posture, the way she sat just a little too straight. His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to sit and start eating, hoping to steer the evening back on track.

For a while, the table was filled with the clink of silverware and the hum of casual conversation. Wade, ever the entertainer, kept the mood light with anecdotes about his gigs and his latest failed attempts at stand-up routines. Y/N found herself smiling despite the unease lingering at the edge of her thoughts.

But Victor, as expected, couldn’t resist.

“You know, Logan,” Victor began, his tone deceptively casual, “this reminds me of that time in…where was it…Kabul?”

Logan froze mid-bite, his knuckles whitening around his fork.

Victor leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. “You remember, don’t you? That look you had back then, the one that could scare the life out of anyone. I bet Y/N’s never seen that side of you.”

The table fell silent.

“Victor,” Logan said, his voice low and warning.

Victor ignored him, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he turned to Y/N. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. There was this family, okay? And we were supposed to capture the father, we knew where they were, etc, etc, and when we found them, Logan—”

“Victor.” Logan repeated, this time getting his brother’s attention who just rolled his eyes in response.

“Oh, come on, it’s story time! Anyway, Y/N…the things Logan’s done... the things he’s capable of. Honestly, you’d be terrified.”

“Enough,” Logan snapped, his voice like a whip crack.

Victor raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to get all worked up.”

Wade cleared his throat, clearly sensing the rising tension. “So…Y/N, what’s the funniest thing one of your students has ever done? Bet you’ve got some good stories.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Logan, who was staring daggers at Victor. She forced a smile, grateful for Wade’s attempt to change the subject. “Oh, there are plenty. Teenagers can be... creative.”

The conversation moved forward haltingly, with Victor retreating into a brooding silence for a while. But the unease lingered, like a storm cloud refusing to dissipate.

“…and then,” Wade said, gesturing dramatically, “I told the guy, ‘You’ve got two choices: laugh at my joke or leave the bar.’ And he actually left! Can you believe that?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine anyone walking out on your set. They’ll regret it in the future.”

Victor chuckled darkly, cutting into the conversation. “You know, Wade’s humor is just not for everyone. One wrong joke and you can just make someone flip a table, or something. Or worse!”

Logan’s shoulders tensed. His fork hovered over his plate, unmoving. Wade’s easy grin faltered, and Y/N’s curiosity sparked at Victor’s sudden shift in tone.

“Oh, come on, Victor,” Wade said, trying to steer the conversation back. “I mean, yeah, yeah we know that. It’s not like I’m offensive to anyone in my jokes, I mostly talk about myself—”

Victor ignored him, leaning forward. “For example, I, personally, love dark humor,” he started, smirking, “It’s my thing. Doesn’t mean I think what the jokes are true. I don’t fucking care. Logan and I got enough baggage to survive a few dark jokes, let me tell ya.”

Logan’s chair scraped back as he stood abruptly. “Enough, Victor.” His voice was a low growl, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Victor’s lips curled into a smirk. “What? I’m just saying. The life that we had? Fucking hell.”

“I said enough.” Logan’s tone brooked no argument, but Victor, ever the provocateur, leaned back and shrugged, feigning innocence.

“Alright, alright,” Victor said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t get your claws out.”

The tension at the table was palpable. Y/N’s eyes flicked to Logan, her brows knitting in concern. Wade cleared his throat, desperate to defuse the situation.

“So, Y/N, you were saying about your students…” Wade prompted.

Y/N hesitated but picked up the thread, trying to bring some semblance of normalcy back to the evening. For a while, Victor stayed quiet, sipping his drink with a detached amusement that only made Logan’s jaw tighten further. But then, as if he couldn’t help himself, Victor struck again.

“You know,” Victor began, his tone deceptively casual, “it’s funny, talking about childhoods. Logan and I had a real piece of work for a father. Mean bastard. Used to take a swing at anything that moved, but Logan here…oh, he was the favorite target.”

Logan’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his fork. “Don’t,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Victor ignored him, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “There was this one time,” he continued, “Dad came home drunk, yelling about something or other. Logan, being the hero he always thought he was, tried to step in. Didn’t end well for him.”

“Shut up,” Logan growled, but Victor plowed on.

“I remember the sound of it,” Victor said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “The way Logan hit the floor. Didn’t cry, though. Not my brother. Just sat there, staring up at him like he wanted to rip his throat out.”

The air in the room grew heavy. Y/N’s stomach twisted, and she glanced at Logan, who looked like he was barely holding himself together. Wade’s hand gripped his glass so tightly it seemed it might shatter.

“I said shut the fuck up,” Logan snapped, his voice like thunder.

Victor’s smirk widened as he leaned back in his chair. “Hey, no need to get all worked up. Just reminiscing.”

Logan pushed back his chair and stood, towering over the table. “I’m done.”

Victor leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. I need a smoke anyway.” He pushed his chair back and strolled toward the balcony, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

As Victor strolled out to the balcony, Wade and Y/N remained seated, both unsure of what to say. Logan’s hands were trembling, and his chest heaved with barely-contained fury. Y/N tentatively reached out to touch his arm, but he flinched away, muttering something under his breath.

Victor’s laugh drifted in from the balcony, a cruel, echoing sound that lingered like a bad memory. Y/N and Wade exchanged a worried glance but said nothing, the silence speaking volumes about the storm that had just passed—and the one that was still brewing.

Logan, jaw tight and fists clenched, remained standing by the table, pacing silently across the room. His movements were measured, like he was trying to keep something contained. Wade’s gaze followed Logan, his usual humor absent, replaced by a rare seriousness.

Y/N watched Logan too, her chest aching at the sight of him. She’d never seen him like this—so raw, so visibly on edge. He looked as though he was carrying the weight of the world, every step weighed down by something unspeakable.

Finally, Logan stopped, shaking his head before walking toward the balcony door. He paused for a second, almost as if he were reconsidering, but then pushed the door open and stepped out into the night.

Wade turned to Y/N, his voice low and soft for once. “You okay?”

She blinked, startled by the question, and let out a shaky laugh that held no humor. “You’re asking if I’m okay?” Her voice cracked slightly as she glanced toward the balcony. Logan was out there with Victor now, his posture tense even from this distance. “I’m worried about him, Wade. He doesn’t deserve this... any of it. Why does Victor treat him like this? Why does he let him?”

Wade sighed, his usual smirk replaced by a somber expression. “Victor’s always been like that. Ever since Logan left the army, he’s made it his personal mission to remind him of all the crap he’s trying to forget. It’s... messed up, yeah. But that’s Victor for you. He gets off on digging into wounds, making them bleed again.”

“That’s horrible,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. Her eyes burned, and she blinked rapidly to hold back tears. “Logan doesn’t deserve that. He’s... he’s a good person. Why does he let Victor treat him like this? It’s like—” She paused, struggling to find the words. “It’s like he thinks he deserves it.”

Wade’s expression softened as he reached out, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, listen to me. Victor’s poison, but Logan? He’s strong. He’s been dealing with this crap for years. He’s gotten through worse. And trust me, he’ll get through this too.”

“But it’s not fair,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “It’s not fair for him to carry this alone.”

“I know.” Wade nodded, his own voice quieter now. “But with Victor? Best thing to do is not give him an opening. You saw how he is—if you engage, he’ll just twist the knife deeper. Logan knows that, which is why he’s out there instead of... well, doing what I’m sure he wants to do.”

Y/N glanced back toward the balcony, where Logan stood stiffly, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the dim city lights. Her heart clenched at the sight. “He’s out there alone with him. Should we—”

“No,” Wade interrupted, shaking his head firmly. “Let him handle it. We’ll talk to him later, when things are calmer. Right now, it’s best if we stay cool. For his sake.”

Y/N nodded reluctantly, though her hands tightened into fists beneath the table.

———

Victor leaned casually against the railing, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He looked utterly relaxed, as if the chaos he left inside didn’t exist. Logan stepped onto the balcony, the chill of the night air doing nothing to cool the fire in his veins.

“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Logan’s voice was low, a dangerous edge cutting through the quiet.

Victor glanced at him, feigning surprise. “Help myself with what? Sharing a few memories? Come on, little brother, lighten up. They’re just stories.”

Logan took a step closer, his hands gripping the railing until his knuckles turned white. “They’re not just stories, Victor. They’re my life. My past. And you have no right to bring it up—especially not like that.”

Victor chuckled, exhaling a puff of smoke. “You’re so sensitive these days, Logan. What happened to you? You used to be... tougher.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his voice dropping even lower. “ I’ve spent every day trying to make peace with what I’ve done. What they made me do. You? You haven’t changed a damn bit.”

Victor smirked, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Why would I change? The world’s a jungle, Logan. Always has been. Only the strongest survive. You know that better than anyone.”

Logan’s hands tightened around the railing, his entire body coiled with barely restrained anger. “Is that why you’re here? To remind me of that? Or is there another reason?”

Victor shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. “Maybe I missed my baby brother. Or maybe I just wanted to see what kind of life you’ve built for yourself.” His gaze flicked toward the apartment window, where Y/N and Wade were still visible inside. “Speaking of which... she’s cute. The girl. Y/N, right?”

Logan froze, his blood running cold. “Don’t.”

Victor’s smirk widened. “Don’t what? Ask if she’s single? Wonder if you’re keeping her to yourself? Come on, Logan, don’t be selfish. She seems like the kind of girl who deserves to have a little fun.”

Logan’s rage boiled over, and he stepped forward, his voice a low growl. “If you so much as look at her the wrong way, I swear—”

Victor raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin infuriatingly smug. “Relax, brother. I haven’t done anything. Yet.”

Logan’s fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, he considered throwing Victor off the balcony. Instead, he took a step back, his voice trembling with barely controlled fury. “Get out of my life, Victor. I’m done with you.”

Victor flicked his cigarette away, the embers glowing briefly before disappearing into the night. “You’ve been saying that for years. But here we are.” He clapped Logan on the shoulder as he passed. “Good talk, little brother.”

Logan stood there, staring out at the city, his chest heaving as he fought to calm the storm raging inside him.

———

The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft clinking of dishes as Y/N and Wade worked together to clear the remnants of dinner. Victor lingered nearby, leaning against the doorway with the same insufferable air of casual dominance that had hung over him all evening.

“So, Y/N,” Victor began, his tone light but probing, “what’s your story? How’d you end up living with these two?”

Y/N shot Wade a glance, silently asking for backup, but he was focused on drying a plate. She forced a polite smile. “It’s not much of a story, really. I needed a place to stay, and they were kind enough to let me move in.”

Victor hummed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering. “Bet it’s interesting with those two.”

“It is,” Y/N replied curtly, turning back to the sink. Her tone made it clear she wasn’t interested in elaborating.

Wade finally broke the tension, setting the plate down with a loud clatter. “Hey, Victor, since you’re so interested, how about you grab a towel and help us out?”

Victor chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Nah, I wouldn’t want to ruin your rhythm. You two seem to have it under control.”

“Shocking,” Wade muttered, rolling his eyes as he handed Y/N another dish to dry.

By the time the kitchen was spotless, the air between them felt lighter, though Victor’s presence lingered like a bad smell. Logan returned to the living room after a few minutes, his expression still tense but more composed than before. He made a point of ignoring Victor entirely as he crossed the room, his focus shifting to Y/N and Wade.

“You two should get some sleep. It’s late,” he said, his tone firm but lacking its usual warmth.

Victor smirked. “Ah, the silent treatment. Classic. Always knew you’d be a master of communication, little brother.”

Logan didn’t even glance his way, his jaw tightening as he waited for Y/N and Wade to respond.

Y/N hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Logan. He looked exhausted, not just physically but emotionally, the events of the evening weighing heavily on him. Still, she nodded. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“Yeah,” Wade added, clapping Logan on the shoulder as he passed. “Try not to kill him in his sleep.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

———

Y/N tossed and turned in her bed, the events of the evening replaying in her mind. Victor’s cutting remarks, Logan’s barely concealed anger, the heaviness in his eyes—it all left a bitter taste in her mouth. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Logan needed someone, someone who could shoulder even a fraction of the burden he carried.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she slipped out of bed. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. As she made her way toward Logan’s door, her heart pounded in her chest. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering just inches from the wood. What if he didn’t want to talk? What if he just wanted to be left alone? 

Summoning her courage, she knocked softly.

The door opened a moment later, Logan standing there in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly disheveled. 

“You couldn’t sleep either,” she guessed softly.

Logan shook his head, a wry, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That obvious?”

Before he could say anything else, Y/N stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest.

Logan froze for a moment, caught off guard. Then, slowly, his arms came up, encircling her in a warm, protective embrace. He held her tightly, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head. Neither of them spoke, the silence between them saying more than words ever could.

Minutes passed—maybe more, maybe less. Time seemed to stretch and blur as they stood there, holding onto each other like lifelines in the dark.

Eventually, Y/N pulled back, looking up at him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan exhaled, a tension he hadn’t realized he was holding releasing all at once. “I’m better now,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

A small, comforting smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “Good. Try to get some sleep, okay? And... if you need anything, you can knock on my door. Anytime.”

Logan nodded, a rare flicker of something warm and genuine crossing his features. “Thanks, Y/N. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan,” she replied, giving him one last smile—one of those radiant, unguarded smiles that secretly made his heart ache in the best way.

As she turned and disappeared down the hallway, Logan closed the door quietly behind her, leaning against it for a moment. For the first time that night, he felt a small measure of peace.

In her room, Y/N climbed back into bed, her worry for Logan still lingering but softened by the memory of their embrace. She drifted off to sleep with the faint hope that, somehow, things would get better.

———

The next morning, the apartment was quiet as Y/N stepped out of her room, fully dressed for work. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and made her way to the kitchen, expecting to find Logan already awake and brooding over his coffee like usual. Instead, she found Victor—alone.

Her steps faltered, but she quickly forced herself to move forward, unwilling to show any hesitation. Victor, seated at the kitchen table with a mug in hand, looked up and smiled—a slow, predatory curve of his lips that sent a chill down her spine.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice smooth, almost mocking.

“Morning,” she replied curtly, keeping her tone neutral. She busied herself at the counter, pouring a cup of coffee and grabbing a piece of toast, hoping to make her breakfast quickly and escape the room.

“You’re up early,” Victor commented, his gaze sweeping over her. “I guess being a teacher means no sleeping in, huh?”

Y/N gave a noncommittal hum, biting into her toast.

Victor’s eyes lingered as she turned slightly to grab a napkin. “You look good,” he said casually, his tone laced with something that made her skin crawl. “Really good. That dress suits you.”

“Thanks,” Y/N muttered, not looking at him.

He didn’t take the hint. Instead, he stood, closing the distance between them. “I mean it,” he continued, his voice lowering as he leaned against the counter beside her. “You’re stunning. Logan’s lucky to have you around.”

Her pulse quickened. She sidestepped slightly, but he followed, his movements uncomfortably close.

“Victor,” she said, her voice firm, “I need to get ready for work.”

“You’ve got time,” he replied smoothly, stepping behind her. Before she could react, he caged her against the counter, his hands bracing on either side of her.

Panic surged through her. She tried to step back, but his body was too close, his presence suffocating.

“Victor, let me go,” she demanded, her voice sharp.

But he didn’t. His hands slid along her sides, his touch invasive and unwelcome. “Relax,” he murmured. “I’m just admiring you.”

“Get off me!” she snapped, her voice rising as she tried to push him away.

Before she could say anything else, a thunderous roar echoed through the apartment.

“VICTOR!”

The sheer power in Logan’s voice made the walls vibrate.

Victor barely had time to look up before Logan stormed into the kitchen, his fury palpable. He grabbed Victor by the collar and yanked him away from Y/N, sending him stumbling backward.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Victor smirked, straightening his shirt. “Relax, little brother. I was just—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan cut him off, his voice trembling with rage. He pushed Victor again, forcing him into the living room. Victor tripped over the coffee table, landing hard against the sofa.

“Take your stuff and get out,” Logan barked, his chest heaving. “You’re done here. Don’t call, don’t text, don’t even think about me. If I ever see you again, I swear to God, I’ll ruin you so thoroughly you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

Victor raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk still firmly in place. “Always so dramatic, Logan. No wonder you’re such a mess.”

“Get. Out.” Logan’s voice was a growl, his fists clenched at his sides.

Victor shrugged, grabbing his jacket from the couch. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave. You’ve always been so sensitive.”

As he walked toward the door, he glanced back at Y/N, who was still frozen in the kitchen. “See you around, sweetheart.”

That was the last straw.

Before Victor could take another step, Logan closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, grabbing the front of his shirt and slamming him back against the doorframe. Victor’s smirk faltered for the first time, his cocky confidence slipping as Logan’s fist hovered threateningly close to his face.

For a moment, Logan saw it—fear. Real, unguarded fear in Victor’s eyes.

The sight made Victor swallow hard, and without another word, he tore himself free from Logan’s grip, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he stumbled out the door. He didn’t look back.

The slam of the door reverberated through the apartment, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Logan stood there for a moment, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his fists still trembling with restrained anger.

When he finally turned around, his expression shifted entirely. Gone was the storm of rage—replaced by something softer, more concerned. His gaze immediately sought out Y/N. He crossed the room in a few long strides, his hands hovering as if unsure where to start.

“Did he hurt you?” Logan asked, his voice low and trembling. “Tell me he didn’t hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N said, but Logan didn’t seem convinced. His eyes roamed over her, checking for any sign of harm. He muttered something under his breath, too quiet for her to catch.

“Logan,” she said softly, reaching up to cup his face with both hands. The contact stilled him, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m okay. Thank you for what you did.”

Their eyes met, the intensity of the moment making it impossible to look away.

Before either could say anything more, Wade’s voice broke the silence.

“Did you finally kick that asshole to the curb?” Wade drawled, shuffling into the room in his pajamas, his hair sticking up at odd angles. “What was his problem anyway? Did he wake up this morning and decide to be a human dumpster fire?”

Logan and Y/N quickly stepped away from each other. Logan cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, he’s gone.”

“Good,” Wade muttered, grabbing a coffee mug. “He was really ruining my morning vibe. Honestly, if dumpster diving was a personality, it’d be Victor. Trash and all.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension in the room easing slightly. Logan shot her a small, grateful smile before turning away, the weight of what had just happened still hanging heavy in the air.

XXX

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

It seems 99% of the Tillchard interactions happen behind the scenes 😭 why are they so private??

Hmm, interesting... ofcourse the on stage part is only 2 hours and they are working off a pretty fixed choreography there, fortunately there is some ad-libbing these days, not like in the old days, when the guys did the tequila-ritual because that was basically the last time they would interact until the show was over. But it's just a fraction of a day, and all the other hours of the day we don't see, which is a shame for all of us who love the cute moments, but in a way they are cute because they don't do them just for us, but just because the mood makes them 🌺

Till and Richard have known eachother for such a long time and have worked close together for most of it too; I could imagine Till sees most of him in private, next to maybe Flake (I'm convinced Till and Flake go to the neighbourhood pub on friday evenings and grumble about the world and life in general, and no one can change my mind on that), so maybe it's like when you're a long-married couple, and you go to a party with mutual friends together, you mingle with other people in that party, and only at the end of the night on the carride home you realize you didn't spend any time together with everything else that was going on..?

Maybe it's something like that? 🌺

But i think this year, maybe even more than in the past few years, there's so much interaction on stage between all of them, and so much obvious fun, that i bet if they do share a ride home after the show they'd say "now *that* was fun" 🍀

🥰

That, and it's a six-men-marriage, so they both have to keep the other husbands happy as well; it's a lot of work, being in a six-some 🥰

[hairmetal666]

Steve has a problem. Not a big problem--not an Upside Down-sized problem--but still. A problem. In the form of Eddie Munson. And not the person Eddie Munson, who is second only to Robin in the hierarchy of Steve's heart, but his feelings in regard to one Eddie Munson. Namely, his enormous, devastating, gay crush on the guy.

And he knows, okay, he knows Eddie is gay, but that doesn't mean he wants Steve. Eddie is probably into other metalheads or dnd nerds. What could Steve, with his sports and his polo shirts, possibly have to offer?

He's coping, though. Or, at least, he thought he was until the Family Video phone rings and Jonathan invites them to the New Year's Eve party he and Argyle are throwing at their new apartment.

"We have to make a no-date pact." He tells Robin as soon as the phone is back in the cradle.

"Or you could just ask Eddie."

"You could just ask Nancy." He raises an eyebrow.

She lets out a slow breath. "Yeah, okay. No-date pact. I'm down."

It's just as easy to get Nancy and Eddie on board. Nancy just laughs and says "yeah, like I'd bring a date to the party my ex-boyfriend is hosting with his new boyfriend. How you do you even start to explain that dynamic?"

And Eddie snorts right in Steve's face (it's not cute, it's not), says, "Right, cause my dating pool in Hawkins, Indiana is just ripe with guys who want to ring in the New Year with me."

Steve wants to say that he would be that guy, happily, giddily, but he can't risk blowing up his second most important friendship like that, not when Eddie's never given a fraction of a hint that he wants Steve too.

But that's his problem solved, right? The four of them aren't bringing dates. Easy-peasy.

Unfortunately, Steve's life hasn't ever worked out like that, and the party turns out to not be only their little end of the world crew and a handful of people Jon knows from his grocery store job, but an actual motherfucking party.

It takes almost ten minutes for him and Robin to navigate through the sea of strangers to find Jon and Argyle handing out solo cups in the kitchen.

"Who are all these people?" He shouts over the pounding music, nothing like Steve's ever heard.

"Argyle got a job at the record store down the street," Jon yells.

"Co-workers." Argyle nods. "And a few of their friends."

"A few, right."

"The more the merrier. Right, my dude?"

"Sure." Steve takes a cup. "You seen Eddie around?"

"Living room, last time I looked." Jonathan answers.

"See you around?" Robin asks.

"At least meet up for the ball drop," Argyle answers.

They push their way into the cramped living room, and Steve searches for that familiar cloud of hair, the ripped black jeans. It takes a minute just for the sheer amount of bodies pressed into the small space, and when he sees him Eddie's--

He's standing against a wall, next to the stereo (of course), but there's someone with him. Someone who is tall and leanly muscled in a way that Steve isn't. Someone with long hair pushed back from his forehead. Someone with facial piercings in places Steve didn't even know you could pierce and tattoos and a chain hanging from his worn blue jeans and a bandana in his back pocket, just like Eddie.

And Eddie he's--he's gazing up at this dude with clear stars in his brown doe eyes, body angling towards the other man like he can't help but push more into his orbit.

Steve turns hard, Robin colliding with his side. "Steve, what the--oh."

"I hate New Year's Eve," Steve sighs, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It's always been the kind of holiday that is high on expectation and low on follow-through.

"C'mon, I think I spotted Nance over by the bedroom."

He lets Robin guide him across the room, steadfastly not looking back at where Eddie is very obviously finding himself a date. It's okay, Steve reasons. It's okay because that was obviously the kind of guy Eddie would be into it. He knew he had, like, no chance. He shouldn't be disappointed. He shouldn't.

The evening slips away in the shove of people, in the solo cup that manages to always be full in his hand, and he tries as hard as he can to ignore the way Robin and Nancy start sharing the same space.

So much for the no-date pact. He would laugh if a sort of deep loneliness wasn't seeping into his bones.

There's a girl, though, across the room. She's in a short dress and glances at Steve from under hooded eyelids. He could make a move; could have someone to kiss at midnight; have someone just for the night. But then--his heart makes a pathetic patter--Eddie.

Eddie who is practically in that stranger's lap.

He goes out for a cigarette.

When he comes back inside, it's five minutes til midnight and Nancy and Robin are dancing slow and sweet to a song that is neither.

He's happy for them, almost incandescent with it, but the loneliness sinks deeper, reaches marrow, especially after he fails to find Eddie in the crowd.

Steve thinks it might be time to give the whole failed endeavor up for good, but Jonathan and Argyle, both in tiny 1987 novelty top hats, appear at his side.

"Stevie-boy!" Argyle bellows. He lifts Steve at the waist, twirling him, and Steve laughs despite himself.

"Keeping busy?" He asks.

Jonathan pounds him on the back, just a little too hard.

A guest yells from deep in the apartment, "one minute to midnight!" and the music turns off, the TV tuned to Dick Clark and turned up.

Nancy and Robin find their way over, Robin mouthing "sorry," on her way. He pulls her into a side-hug; he'll never begrudge her any happiness, even on his worst day.

From across the room, there's a crash, a short yelp, and then a familiar head of fuzzy brown curls makes its way to them.

"Sorry, sorry." Eddie apologizes as he shoves through the other guests.

"Hi, guys!" He beams at them, cheeks flushed. Steve looks away so he doesn't have to think about how beautiful Eddie is; about how he's not the one who made him blush so pretty.

The countdown on the screen reaches 30 seconds, and the party goers start chanting.

"What happened to--?" Steve can't help but asking.

"Psh, that dude? He's a punk. Plus, I couldn't imagine ringing in 1987 without you guys by my side."

Steve blushes and rolls his eyes. "Sap." He knocks his hip into Eddie's.

"You love it," Eddie wraps him in a loose hold.

The count is down to 10, the ball almost dropped, Jonathan and Argyle and Nancy and Robin making soft eyes at each other.

"What's going on in that head of yours, sweetheart?" Eddie knocks his head gently against Steve's.

"It's nothing."

"You're pouting." Eddie mimics him with a poked out lip.

The count is down to 5.

"Fuck, I just--I wanted to have someone to kiss at midnight, you know?"

The ball drops, the year changes over, the room cheers. His coupled up friends cling to each other in soft, joyous kisses.

Eddie's eyes flick to their friends, to the guests, all kissing and embracing and celebrating, then back to Steve.

With two careful fingers, Eddie lifts Steve's chin, makes it so he can't look away.

"Fuck it," Eddie says. He leans forward, kisses Steve with soft authority.

And Steve just--he just fucking--crumbles into it. He makes a soft noise, curls his fists into Eddie's t-shirt.

Eddie's hands work their way into his hair, pulling him closer. Steve goes eagerly, crushes their bodies together.

They kiss and they kiss, and it's already so far from a friendly New Year's kiss, but then Eddie's tongue swipes into Steve's mouth, and the kiss breaks.

"Um," Eddie says.

Steve can't respond because all his focus is on not giving into the weakness in his knees and collapsing to the floor.

"I've wanted you to do that all night," Steve says.

"Oh." Eddie's face blossoms into a slow smile. "Me too. A lot longer than that, actually."

It's Steve's turn to smile, and he does, so hard it hurts his cheeks. "Me too."

Eddie presses their foreheads together. "Happy New Year, Stevie."

Someone starts singing Auld Lang Syne loudly and off-key, but they're quickly drowned out by a chorus of accompanying voices.

"Happy New Year, Ed."

Steve pulls him in for another kiss. 1987 is already shaping up to be the best year of his life.

[massiveharmonytiger]

Anyone ever think about the fact that Armand probably hated the hell out of Claudia for having what he never could.

Claudia gets rescued from death as an innocent. Armand gets rescued from death as someone whose innocence died the day those slavers captured and raped him.

Claudia gets Louis and Lestat's love and takes it for granted. Armand craves their love but gets their scorn.

After she is made a vampire, Claudia lives with two caring fathers only to pine for a mortal life she'll never have and run away from the situation when the cruelty of being a vampire gets to be too much for her.

Obviously this isn't how I see it. Claudia had every right to run away after how she was treated and seek out her own answers. And her child/fledglinghood definitely wasn't all sunshine and roses. Her aunt abused her, Lestat was extremely cruel to her after Charlie's death, the Loustat brawl, Lestat dropping Louis from the sky, Bruce's abuse - all of these were extremely traumatizing and hard to live through.

My point is that Armand could know all of this and still see Claudia's past as the rosy childhood he never had because his was just that fucked up.

Also, I think book Armand is enslaved around a similar age to when book Claudia is turned (I read it this way, although I'm struggling to confirm this, can anyone confirm?) and I can see him wondering why he couldn't have had the dark gift to protect him then. Why does Claudia get it? Why is she any more worthy than he is?

Where Claudia doesn't have to do a thing, Armand has to prove his cruel streak to earn the dark gift and after he is made a vampire, he lives with his groomer, Marius, who is set on fire and Armand is captured by a coven that teaches him to hate himself until Lestat steps in.

So yeah, why would he stop the coven from killing her when she's had everything he's ever wanted?

Side note because I've seen some really bad takes on the Marius/Armand relationship.

Yes, Armand was in love with Marius and Marius loved him too. Yes, Marius rescued Armand from the brothel. Yes, Marius was kinder than Armand's slavers and Armand enjoyed a lot of the sex stuff he did when he was living with Marius. Yes, pederasty was normalized during that time and Marius was just acting like any man in his position would.

AND

Marius was still a groomer and an abuser. Marius was still in a position of power pulling strings to get Armand to do what he wanted and throwing tantrums when things didn't go his way. Marius still got off on Armand worshipping him. Marius was still Armand's owner and his kindness was dependent on Armand doing what he said (like letting himself be donated when a friend came from out of town - some people will say Armand was lying about that, to which I say, fuck you).

The fact that Armand enjoyed sex, started fetishizing his own abuse and using his body as a tool of manipulation doesn't make him complicit, neither does the fact that Marius had redeeming qualities (beauty, kindness, wisdom) and Armand fell in love with him.

None of this makes what Armand went through any less traumatizing. He's 500 years old and we can still see him grapple with what happened in his childhood.

I have no idea how they're going to portray Marius/Armand's childhood in the show, but I feel that even just a fraction of this would make Armand's resentment of Claudia pretty real, and I really hope we get to see Armand confront this in later seasons even though I'm pretty sure a lot of it is unconscious and he may not even be fully aware that he feels this way.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I think one of the things that scared me the most, with OFMD being cancelled before its time, is the fear that the fandom might just...fizzle out in an instant, be gone tomorrow.

And, sure, we'll probably get less active over time. That's the nature of fandom.

But the thing is...we've been doing just fine. We only have eighteen episodes and we're a big, lively, active fandom despite that. In the grand scheme of things, we obviously don't need the promise of getting new content soon to inspire us to be active and loud about how much we love this show.

There's so much left to do and experience in this fandom, still. OFMD is such a layered and thoughtful show, we've got so much still to analyze and talk about and then discuss again. It inspires so much creativity! I haven't seen even the smallest fraction of OFMD art I'm going to see, I haven't written but a tiny portion of the OFMD fics I'm going to write. There's always going to be new art about this show for us to experience.

In short, I guess: I know we're not through. We wrote our names on each other in permanent ink.

[class1akids]

Do you think there is any way of fixing what happened in the next chapter? I don't think Horikoshi is a great writer but I don't understand how could he have flumbled so bad when the set up he wrote himself made obvious what should happen. Everybody knows that a big motif was to save the villains and then that's not what happens with the MC and main antagonist? That is kind of like insulting levels of misdirection. I'm foolishly hoping that the next chapters fixes it somehow.

I've been trying to think circles around it, because I do agree with those bloggers who say that it's WILDLY OOC for Deku and it makes them suspect it's a fakeout.

Unfortunately, I only see plausible options with this set-up along the following lines:

Tomura "awakens" the missing Overhaul reconstruction component and rebuilds himself and goes to fix his dying villain buddies. -> Great. It delivers on Tomura's goal to be a hero of the villains and maybe he can turn a new leaf with a healing quirk to try to start fixing the damage he caused. It's sort of an answer to Tomura's arc, but Deku's arc is still destroyed, because he still killed the guy for all he knows and never in any way engaged with his complaints about society. Nothing changed except AFO is dead.

Deku punched TomurAFO with Vestige Magic BS he unlocked offscreen with the exact amount of force to reconstruct Tenko's body out, save the crying boy and give him a second life -> obviously total asspull, but fandom will be happy because who is not a fan of a cute crying child, and "look we told you that Deku is the greatest". Imho, this kind of solution would basically ruin Tomura's development, disregard his progress with the LoV, and would not be good for Deku if he decided that the "crying child" gets to live and told Tomura that he's unforgivable and he needs to die because he never engaged with his villain, only with a ghost of a past that normally doesn't exist anymore and is not a feasible solution to save other people like Tenko this way.

Tomura transferred OFA back to Deku and his vestige as Tenko will live inside Deku so "he'll be a hero" -> I see people getting excited with this, but the vestiges don't "live" there with his "oba-chan". Being a ghost, being trapped inside someone else, never be able to make a decision for themselves is not a life. I don't see it as a good ending for a character who didn't experience much freedom in his entire life. I also think Deku should be rid of the vestiges - it's not healthy to have them yap in his head. If you want this kind of ending, might as well write that Tenko got to join Mon, Mom, Hana etc in heaven and is living there happily in the afterlife.

Deku has brought along Eri's horn and it being in the blast zone of OFA - AFO collision it's fractional rewind turned into a mass rewind effect and he did this in purpose and knew it was gonna work out this way and was totally gonna save everyone with it, including Tomura. And their "farewell scene" was just a clumsily written misdirect. -> OK. Got MHA trending. Editors happy.

Basically Option 1, but AFO being defeated is not the end of the fight, because the Alien Parasite that infected his mom and is the source of all quirks takes form and then the LoV come in to help defeat it. Everyone loses their quirks, no more quirk society. Tomura and Spinner start a gaming youtube channel. Deku becomes a cop.

I mean, I can sit here, come up with these wild, wild BS scenarios that "undo" Tomura's death. But I don't really see a way that salvages both Tomura's and Deku's arc and makes them both deliver on the promise of their arc. Like linkspooky wrote - Deku's entire journey is what would have mattered. Him engaging with villain stories, especially with Tomura's story, trying to empathize, trying to change the root cause. But it feels like in the end, precious little changed compared to the All Might era.

I feel like both Ochako and the Todoroki family confronted Toga and Toya more at both levels - not just at the level of the cute kid whose life went off the rails, but also at the level of the person they grew into: Ochako by offering blood to Toga and the Todorokis by wanting Toya back in his current damaged form and willing to go through hell with him (unlike Toga's folks, who immediately disowned their child). But Deku only embraced crying Tenko. He really didn't offer anything to grown-up Tomura and that's where the problem lies for me.

[phantombre]

Uh...

...Rema?

Remember in the birthday post when I said that I had some more sketches?

Well I have more sketches:

Some other guys that I don't have posted designs yet but I really like.

Your Contrarian to me is very cowboy coded. I know he's the Bard, but... I don't know... He got yeehaw energy. (For the record, I do not think this is a bad thing. In fact, Cowboy Contra is a really interesting idea actually...) Also, I can only hope that my take on Contra has even a fraction of the smug that yours has.

World record for Living Being with the Most Sass obviously goes to Oppy. Your version, especially.

Paranoid is just the most adorable guy... Just look at him! Ahh!

I like to think that Cold can flare out his cloak like a peacock as he floats about. (As if his aura isn't intimidating enough.) Very spooky. :)

And I thought this was all...

...but it ain't...

As I was sketching, I had this idea:

My Hero was already pretty tall, but it'd be funny if he was still somewhat dwarfed by your Bard. (Also, the eye. Holy shit, I didn't know he even had eyes 'til I saw your redesigns. So unnerving. It's perfect.)

And wow! I still wasn't done. The hell is wrong with me?

I remember seeing the Guts Trio comic (which I adore, btw). I really like this panel:

...and this is all I can think about:

It's that scene from the animated version of the Little Mermaid with the pipe and the- ahhh! It's so good!

Poor Skeptic, though. He seems really roughed up trying to hang with Stubborn and Hunted...

Actually, you know what? I can't have this. He deserves better...

God, I haven't done a digital painting since my Long Quiet... Feels good. Need to do more...

Anyway, there he is! The reason this took me so long to post. Loosely based on that scene in your fic. Had to give him the utmost respect. He is a classy Detective, after all.

Okay... Just two more, I promise...

Part of this one was actually supposed to be part of the original gift:

Yep! I originally had the Narrators, but I couldn't finish it in time (also was trying to look for any references to your designs). I ended up recycling it for this comic idea.

But oh? What's this?

But of course! Your helmless Smitten is absolutely gorgeous! The most beautiful man!

Writing his dialogue, however, was the hardest thing for me. (Not even sure if I did it justice here...)

It was at this point that I completely ran out of steam (not permanently, but man, my brain hurts). I had a concept for a part two to the Smitten comic, but I am drained. I guess I can give the dialogue for it...

My Narry: Good Lord, he talks endlessly...

Rema's Narry: Yes, perhaps the most annoying of the bunch.

My Narry: Glad we don't have one-

?????: Oh, on the contrary, villains!

Rema's Narry: you can't be serious...

My Narry: WHAT THE SHI-

Gee, wonder who mystery dude is...

Anyway, this post is way too long. I am so sorry. My brain autopilots too much.

These are all additional birthday gifts for @remaking-machine. I hope you enjoy. Your art is very inspirational. I had a fun time.

Time to eep

[nautls11]

my rambles about the tmk finale (SPOILERS, obviously)

whats up tmk famalam, im sad and im gonna talk about it

I cant even begin to describe how incredible the finale was. The players and the dice both had a story to tell and it created an end that brought me to tears.

The acting.

Genuinely some of the best ive seen in the entire show and I’ve been watching since convergence. Every single person absolutely killed it, Condi especially. Lucia’s moments with Mary, and Milo’s acting during the final scene was absolutely phenomenal

“Humanity’s weakness.” Empathy.

Empathy plays such a vital role throughout this entire story. It’s Lucia’s drive to try and save Everett from becoming her sister. It’s Jin’s drive to save the people who had those horrible fates he experienced when he was young. Everett’s lack of empathy was what pushed him away from his hunting party, seeing it as nothing but weakness.

Everett’s lack of empathy was what isolated him from the rest of the hunters. Yet, it was Everett’s empathy that made him choose to save Trey by turning him into a monster (albeit against Trey’s will), knowing that he wouldn’t survive otherwise. It was Everett’s lack of empathy for humanity that made him join the monsters, yet it was Everett’s humanity that made him spare Jin and Lucia during the monster siege.

Jin couldn’t kill Everett because he desperately wanted to keep alive the last bit of humanity Everett had left in him. Because Everett spared him, Jin only saw the only right thing to do was to spare his life as well, even though it led to the summoning of the Moonbeast.

It was empathy for Pebble’s losses that led Lucia and Jin to trust him, and he was able to prove himself more than capable.

It was Lucia’s empathy at the end that revealed Everett truly did still have a fraction of humanity and empathy left inside him, enough to destroy the heart and give one last goodbye. In the end, humanity’s weakness was also their ultimate power.

Mary’s internal conflict.

Lucia recognizing Mary but Mary not recognizing her, and the instant Mary realized it was her sister, her entire demeanor changed into that of a scared and traumatized child, because she never got to grow up. She was seen as a monster and became a monster. That was all she knew, and when those emotions filled her chest again she knew nothing but panic. She sees empathy as a weakness, just like all the other monsters do. Even to the point where she recoils from her own older sister’s sincerest apologies. Until Lucia has gona through what Mary has gone through, so long as they are different, Mary sees no place for reconciliation. And that id what causes her own downfall.

And the ending. The falling ending.

I think the fact that it ended with them all still falling makes it such a beautiful finale. It’s open-ended, we don’t know what faits await them. Do they fall as the starlight dapples across their skin and fall into the earth, becoming part of the cycle once more? Do they survive the fall, and the three of them live, watching as the moon slowly falls across the horizon and not into the maw of a beast, crying sobs of relief that their world was saved? Does one of them drag themselves out of the ocean to find their companions cold and motionless on the shore? I think the fact that we don’t know gives us so much more to think about, even though the campaign is over.

anyways thank you council + milo for making another incredible campaign and fuck you for adding to my cry counter (/nm ofc it was absolutely incredible)

[ubernatural]

Due to the overwhelming majority of positive votes on my poll, this is a small snip of my as of now unnamed destiel fic. Please please please talk to me about how I can improve or what you liked about it <3

———

Cas was alone. Again. His roommate had fucked off, predictably, and left him to stew alone in their half unpacked room right before his first classes of the year. Normally, he’s fine being by himself. Thrives in it, really. But after the way he left things with his family, he’s craving human contact more than ever.

His parents will tell you he “ran away,” but, really, he just never told them he got accepted into KU. He just packed his bags, and left for the fall semester. He had been working jobs since he was fifteen and had saved every last cent of his pay, so he had some money to help with tuition. He also got one mean scholarship, so all he really needs are the books. But that won't stop his parents from calling him “selfish” and “entitled” when all he really wants is to live his life not being constantly squished into the image of the perfect son that hasn’t fit him in a long ass time.

It also doesn’t help that they are super religious and did not support him coming out as gay. They insisted it was a “phase” and “would pass.” But Cas had known for years that he was into men. He knew it before when he picked a girl in class to “like” just so he would fit in. He knew it in Senior year when Hannah, a girl in his school, invited him over to her house to study, or so he thought. She said she was going to change into something more comfortable and he figured that meant pajamas, but apparently that meant buck ass nude. He was embarrassed and, frankly, grossed out. He made a speedy exit, and avoided her for the rest of the year. His parents, Chuck in particular, kept asking him what ever happened to “that lovely Hannah girl.” Well, now they know why they never saw her again.

Pushing away the thought of his family, he rises from his bed to get ready. He throws on a pair of worn dark wash jeans, a black shirt, and pulls a battered gray zip-up over it all. He grabs the old messenger bag he was able to snatch from his father before he left, and fills it with the books he’s going to need today.

The walk to class was pretty uneventful. It was a nice day, and Cas only got lost once. He quickly asked for directions, and was relieved that he wasn’t even that far off course.

He was still pretty proud of himself when he got to the lecture hall. It was relatively full, but not so that it was hard to find a seat. He ended up picking one close to the middle next to a small redhead with glasses. They shared a polite smile before she reached her hand out for him to shake. “Hey there. I’m Charlie.”

Cas tentatively grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Hello, Charlie. My name is Castiel.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! I might have to steal it for my new DnD character,” she playfully shoots back.

“Yes, well, you would be too late considering it’s already the name of mine.” His lips tick up in a smile as he sees her face brighten.

“Dude, you should totally come over and play sometime! I’ve only got one other friend who plays, and his younger brother who’s usually our DM.” Her eyes widen a fraction before she continues frantically, “I mean, obviously you don’t have to, and this is kinda weird since we know basically nothing about each other and-”

“I would love to join you, Charlie.” He cuts off her rambling before she can talk herself out of his invite.

Her face splits into a wide grin, and she’s beaming again. “Did we just become besties?” she asks.

“Yes, I believe we did,” Cas amusedly answers.

-

The Queen: handmaiden, come quick

emergency dnd meet in my room

now!

and bring the good popcorn

-

Dean gets the text as he’s finishing his last class for today. He’s pretty drained from all of the “introduce yourself” and “get to know you” chats that he was forced into all day. The sun’s setting, and all he really wanted was to curl up in bed and maybe watch Tombstone for the millionth time. But he loves Charlie, and he can’t refuse his queen. He shoots off a text saying he’ll be right there, and heads for his room to get the requested snack.

Ten minutes later, he’s standing outside Charlie’s dorm with the half cheesy, half caramel popcorn that she likes. He knocks once and is utterly unprepared for what he sees when he lets himself in.

“Hey, Charles-”

He stops in his tracks as he takes in the scene. Charlie and some guy are sitting on the floor as Charlie is very animatedly ranting about something or another and the guy is just sitting there, softly but excitedly smiling at her. Upon second glance, the guy is hot. He’s wearing a shirt that hugs his shoulders perfectly and matches his messy black curls. The guy also has a straight nose and full lips. When he looks up at Dean, he’s struck by just how blue his eyes are. Blue enough to drown in. Shut up, brain.

Their impromptu staring contest is interrupted by Charlie springing up from her spot on the floor and practically yanking him all the way inside the room. “Dean,” she says, “this is Castiel. We have English together and he mentioned he plays DnD, so I invited him over to see if we could coerce you and Sam into getting a game started.” He raises a quizzical brow and her responding look says “just go with it.”

“Uh, hey, man,” he says, transferring the nearly forgotten bag of popcorn under his left arm, reaching the other out for the guy to shake.

“Hello, Dean.” And damn, if he hadn't thought this guy was hot before, he definitely thinks so now. His voice is whiskey smooth yet still has a gargling gravel quality to it. His handshake is strong, too. And just as he realizes that fact, he also recognizes that he’s held this guy's hand for a beat too long and was staring again.

He clears his throat and extracts his hand, trying to control the flush he’s feeling. Judging by the small smirk on this Castiel guy’s face, he’s failed miserably.

Turning back to Charlie, resolutely ignoring the self satisfied smile on her smug little face, he extracts the popcorn from under his arm and offers it to her with a small bow. “M’lady,” he recites.

“Why thank you, handmaiden,” she says liltingly, and pats him on the head.

“Anything for you, my queen,” he says as he straightens.

He throws a glance back over at the guy, who is doing a comically adorable squint-tilt of confusion. He sniggers a little to himself. Where did Charlie find this guy? “So, Cas,” he starts, “are you a sweet or salty kind of guy?”

The squint deepens until the whole look smoothes out. “Well, I prefer sweet to salty snacks, if that’s what you’re asking. Although I do believe that opinion is almost entirely based off of my older brother sharing his sugar addiction with me.” His face turned contemplative and almost yearning.

“Well, that’s good since that half and half crap she has me pick up is more 70-30 on carmel to cheese. Now it works out,” he grins, “you two can split the 70 and I’ll get the 30 all to myself.”

“That’s… agreeable.”

His smile widens much more than the comment earned, but he can’t help it. He’s swooning and the man only said two words. “Great, I’ll get Sammy on the phone. Charles, why don’t you and Cas set up the game?”

Sam picks up on the third ring, predictably still awake and not trying to ignore his big brother. “Hey, Dean. How did your first day go?”

“Ah, it was alright, Sammy. Met some people, found some classes, nothing real eventful until now.”

“Until now? What does that mean?” He sounds equal parts concerned and cautious.

“Nothing bad, you can relax. Charlie found herself a new bestie, and we were just wonderin’ if your dungeon master skills could be brought out for a quick game.”

There’s a large sigh on the other end of the phone before he inevitably relents. “Fine. Put me on speaker, I’ll go get my notes.”

“Yes, Sammy!” he shouts excitedly “This is why I love you.” He puts his phone on speaker and flashes a thumbs up at the other two in the room who had looked up at his outburst.

“There’s gotta be more reasons than that, jerk,” Sam replies petulantly.

“Why don’t you come over here and find out, bitch,” he throws back.

There's grumbling and shuffling on the phone, and Dean grins triumphantly, even though the comeback didn't make much sense. “Ok,” Sam pauses, “am I on speaker?”

“Yeah. Hi, Sam!” comes Charlie’s reply.

“Hi, Char. And, uh, hi, Charlie’s new bestie?”

“Hello, Sam. My name is Castiel. It is good to speak with you.” Dean could listen to Castiel read an organic chemistry textbook and never get bored.

“Hello, Castiel. It’s nice to meet a fellow nerd,” Sam jokes.

Cas laughs and if Dean likes his voice, he loves his laugh. He could bottle it up and get drunk on it each night. God, when did he turn into such a sap?

They stay on the phone with Sam through a two hour adventure that he found lying in his notes. Afterwards, it’s pretty late, but they stick around and chat for a bit. They find out some random things about Cas, like, he’s 20 (just a year younger than Dean), his favorite animal is a bee (”But that’s not an animal, Cas, It’s an insect.” “And insects are a type of animal, Dean.”), he has one older brother, and apparently is in a band.

“No way, dude! That’s so cool! What do you play?” Charlie practically bounces off of her perch on the edge of her bed in excitement.

“Well, I play guitar, but I also sing, sometimes.” He shrugs, “We’re very flexible with who takes the lead, though. It usually comes down to who wrote the song and what they want to do with it.” He then smiles shyly, “Then again, most of the songs are mine as well, with more than a few written by my friend, Meg.”

Charlie nearly chokes on her own spit. “Wait, Meg, as in Meg Masters?”

The squint-tilt is back. “Yes. Megara Masters. Do you know her?”

Charlie scoffs, “Know her? No. Know of her? Hell yes. What kind of lesbian would I be if I didn't know the hottest gay in school?”

“Hey,” Dean protests, “the hottest gay is obviously that Aaron guy.”

She reached over and gently laid her hand on his cheek, “Oh, sweetie,” she said pleasantly, “you keep telling yourself that.” She pats his cheek lightly before she withdraws her hand. The whole exchange leaves Cas more than a little confused.

The topics ebb and flow however it wants, and soon they’re debating the merits of each Hogwarts house.

“I don’t care what either of you buffoons have to say, I gotta back my girl Harmionie,” Charlie yells.

“We’re not talking about characters, Char, We’re talking about the house itself!” Dean yells back.

“But if we were talking about characters,” Cas chimes, “That would give Hufflepuff a point because of Sedric.”

“Oh, yea?” Charlie snaps. “And where’s Sedric now, Cas? That's right, he’s dead,”

Dea narrows his eyes, “That was a low blow, Char.” No one disrespects Sedric and gets away with it.

Cas is about to speak, presumably to come to Dean’s aid, when his phone chimes. “Oh dear,” he says.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean asks as nonchalantly as he can, but if the look Charlie shot at him is anything to go by, it didn't work very well.

He laughs breathily at his phone and begins tapping away, speaking distractedly as he goes. “It looks like it’s much later than I thought, and Gabriel seems to have been trying to contact me for quite some time now.” He bites his lip thoughtfully before he starts typing again. Dean tries not to let his gaze snag on the gesture.

“If you gotta go, man, that’s cool,” Dean relents.

“Yeah,” Charlie chimes, “we should all probably get some sleep, anyways.”

“Yes I think I might do just that,” Cas answers. Just then his phone starts buzzing in his hand. “I have to take this, but it was lovely meeting both of you, and I hope we can possibly do this again sometime?”

“Of course, dude,” Charlie answers and goes in for a hug. Cas is a bit awkward, but he’s smiling, so it can’t be too bad. “We nerds gotta stick together!” she declares.

Dean sticks his hand out for Cas to shake. It’s firm and strong and lasts a little bit longer than a normal handshake, but Dean’s probably just imagining that. He also probably imagined when Cas’ eyes seemed to flick down to his lips. He had to have imagined it. No way would this guy be interested in a sack like Dean.

Cas seems to come back to himself abruptly when his forgotten phone starts buzzing again. He answers swiftly with a sort of fond and annoyed look that belongs to most younger brothers. “Gabriel, ya kak raz sobiralsya pozvonit'. Chto vam nuzhno?” He casually shoots them a wave, and closes the door on his way out.

Dean and Charlie are left staring after him in shock. Was that Russian?

[girl-named-matty]

House of Gaunt pt.2

This is basically just some lore dumping about Ominis family in my lore. I have so much its kinda ridiculous at this point but I feel the massive need to share it so here we go. This is just barely a fraction of it but it'd take me forever to explain it all.

Also just a disclaimer that my version of the Gaunts is decently different then the one you read about in the Harry Potter universe. the HL universe itself doesn't exactly align 100% with what is canon in the HP universe anyway so who cares LOL. Tw: We all already know the Gaunts are violence af but either way, mentions of violence, cruelty, suicide, etc... Nothing graphic at all however I just felt the need to mention that just in case.

Starting off with the old man. We have Cyrus Gaunt, the head of the family.

(obviously he looks older than he does here-- since he's old af but I'm just working with what I got lol) Cyrus is the father of the five children + the head of the Gaunt family. He's the oldest out of all of his own siblings, hence why he ended up as the head. To put it frankly, he's a psychopath and crazy. On top of all the crimes the Gaunt family commits against Muggles, Squibs, and other Witches/Wizards who don't share his ideologies, he also runs an underground smuggling organization alongside his brothers and two of his sons. That alone has racked up his crime record.

His marriage to his wife, Belladonna was 100% arranged but he found some sort of love in her eventually. Definitely not your stereotypical loving husband and wife. However she gave him children and is a pureblood supremacist so that was really all he was asking for.

In the simplest way possible, he is a cruel man who doesn't care if he harms others. Or even if he himself gets harmed in the process as long as he has fun doing it. His son, Marvolo, was actually the one to give him the massive scar. He and Marvolo had always had a rocky relationship ever since his sons birth and when Marvolo was fourteen, he had really pissed his father off.

Cyrus threatened to throw Marvolo out if he couldn't prove he was worth something. He challenged him to a duel and said if his son could even get one hit on him--he could stay. Marvolo, not really caring what happened, just wanted to take the opportunity to fight his father. One thing led to another and Cyrus ended up with that massive scar on his face. (smooth move bro).

So yeah he's miserable and a total pain but gotta give it to him for being so persistently annoying.

Moving onto the mama of the family: Belladonna Gaunt.

Belladonna Gaunt is the unfortunate woman to have married that stick in the mud up there. She holds strong pureblood ideologies however she's much less cruel than her husband. However that "less cruel" part really only applies to her family or close friends. She loves her children and that's pretty much it. Of course there is some kind of love between her and her husband but it feels more "professionally forced" if you know what I mean.

So needless to say she was quite upset anytime Cyrus did anything rash against their children since she didn't agree with it. However, that doesn't exempt her from the Gaunts regular hobbies of torturing muggles in their own living room. She hardly actively participated but she often watched and found enjoyment in it.

But things like the night Ominis' was crucio'ed for the first time, she left in tears before anything happened--clearly upset about her husbands choice to allow his older brothers to do that to him.

Despite this, her beliefs are still deep rooted in pureblood supremacy and she does believe in violence against others she doesn't see as equals to her. Sooo she definitely does have her flaws.

Onto the oldest: Aurelius Gaunt.

Ever heard of parents picking favorites? Well yeah, he is the perfect example of being the favored child. His name, Aurelius, can be translated to "The golden one" (lol the golden child) which pretty much speaks for itself. However, that's not it. His middle name is Avyaan/Avyan (however you prefer to spell it) which can literally be translated to "he who has no imperfections" so yeah.. you guys can pretty much guess how they feel about their son based on that.

In that time period it was very desired to have a son, specifically a firstborn who was a son. Someone who could carry on the family name and legacy and so the Gaunts got exactly what they wanted when their firstborn was a boy. Aurelius grew up as the golden child, basically being the perfect son his parents wanted him to be. Cruel, willing to do anything for them (even if it was illegal) and much, much more.

Aurelius' approach to acts of cruelty tend to be much different than how most of his family approaches it. He tends to analyze things before going straight into it. But sometimes he just doesn't care, it really depends on what he's feeling like. Aurelius helps his father run the underground smuggling organization and is his fathers successor to the Gaunt family name and fortune.

He's always had a bit of a rivalry with his younger brother, Marvolo, and that sprouted feelings of hate on both sides but he's more tolerant of Marvolo than Marvolo is of him. Aurelius married a pureblood girl from France and they have two children.

However following the events of Matty Ambrose's 7th year at Hogwarts while Aurelius was roped up in Leona Oswald's crimes, he was eventually put in Azkaban for his crimes , which was quite shocking seeming how often the Gaunts could weasel their way out of punishment for their actions. Although that was mostly due to the fact that Marvolo was persecuting him himself.

However years later, Aurelius ended up being released on a deal that he would no longer participate in acts of crime and would have no association with his family outside of his wife and his children. But he was eventually allowed to attend the funeral of his mother, father, and sister but nothing else other than that. And because of that deal, everything he would've gotten from his family instead went to Marvolo (which was the reason why Marvolo even attempted to put his brother in prison in the first place, even though he himself was arguably worse). Aurelius lived the rest of his life in rural area in France with his wife.

Next in line is the crazy one we all already know: Marvolo Gaunt.

Now you might be looking at him and be wondering: Why isn't he short, ugly, and look like a monkey??

As I mentioned earlier, this universe does differ from the HP universe. But don't worry, he gets what's coming to him and later on in life he gets cursed and that's when he becomes ugly and starts looking like a monkey as described in the books I promise LOL.

But now that we've got that out of the way, let's start talking about this git. Just as firstborn sons were desired so they could carry on the family name and legacy, second born sons were desired too... as backups.

Yup, that's basically why he exists to his parents. And they never even tried to hide that from him. Belladonna and Cyrus hoped to have a second son just in case something ever happened to Aurelius--and they did end up having a second son but since nothing ever happened to Aurelius till much later, they severely neglected Marvolo throughout his life. Marvolo was born crazy and violent, that just a fact. However his childhood did have an impact on him which led to him being even more inclined to commit crimes and do horrible acts.

He fought constantly with his siblings, his parents, and basically anybody around him. He misbehaved and was punished severely because of it and he got in trouble with the Ministry several times. Each and every time his father would have to pull some stupid strings to get him out of that situation. Marvolo saw the way they treated Aurelius and was massively jealous of his older brother, so he tried to get his parents to treat him the same way.

He had a better relationship with his mother than he did his father as at times Belladonna did show that she cared about him. But Cyrus put Marvolo in enough dangerous situations carelessly to make known that he didn't care that much at all.

But if there was one thing that he knew his parents liked, it was violence. So he was going to upstage his brother in any way possible to "make his parents proud". This led to him being driven to mass violence and deeper and deeper into madness. Eventually driving him to the point where he killed and tortured innocent people for his own fun and enjoyment. His parents did end up liking him a bit more for that, knowing that if there was anyone they didn't like and needed gone, that Marvolo would take care of it in a heartbeat (as long as there was something in it for him.)

To gain revenge on his older brother, he ended up black mailing Matty in her 7th year at Hogwarts in order to get her to gather information about Aurelius' hand in Leona's crime organization in order to put Aurelius away for good. Of course, this wasn't exactly easy because Matty was like "tf?? no??" but eventually he was able to force her into helping him after the Aranshire incident (ifykyk.)

Eventually this plan worked and Marvolo ended up with all of Aurelius' inheritance and would later on become the head of the family after Cyrus' death.

Later in his life, Marvolo was forced to marry a pureblood girl he didn't care much for. He had two children, Morfin and Merope (we all know them) but didn't care much after his wife died. It did send him spiraling a bit but not because he was sad but because that meant he had to deal with the children alone.

His sister-in-law was extremely angry due to his carelessness regarding his wife and her sisters death. So she was the one that ended up cursing him, leading him to look like how he's described in the books. (deserved lolol)

Moving onto the middle child and first daughter: Selene Gaunt.

Out of all the Gaunts besides Ominis, Selene is one of the more moral ones. Tbh she's kinda a girlboss and I love her for that. Selene is the oldest and first daughter in the Gaunt family, so naturally she was doted on a little bit more than her other siblings growing up. She is pretty much along the lines of the stereotypical oldest daughter. She takes care of her siblings, makes sure things runs smoothly, but finds her siblings extremely annoying LOL.

She does have favorites and it's Ominis, simply because she doesn't find him as annoying. Her ideologies aren't nearly as deep rooted as her family but she kept that a secret. Truly, she didn't care that much about pureblood supremacy and didn't exactly agree with the torture of innocent people. Out of all of them (except Ominis), she has the cleanest record.

However she fell in line just to please her family. She did what she was told and that's how she stayed out of trouble. She dislikes Marvolo and Lyssa the most since she thinks they're annoying. Especially since Lyssa basically became a "mini-Marvolo". Now THAT annoyed her.

She'll be the first to tell them to shut up and start acting civilized and is definitely the more sensible one. Like Ominis, she was quite close to her late Aunt Noctua, which is the reason why she is the way she is. But she keeps the fact that she's not as dedicated to her families ideologies as they are a secret.

Per request of her family, she married a pureblood man, settled down and had children. Unfortunately her death came rather early in life but she was remembered well by her brother Ominis. She was the only family member he really ever stayed in contact with after leaving.

(and we all know who Ominis' is so we're just going to skip down to Lyssa lol)

This is Lyssa Gaunt, she is the youngest out of the family and the craziest outside of Marvolo. Lyssa, like Marvolo, was born with mental issues that effected her life from her first breath. And growing up it never got any better. When she was first born, her parents couldn't think of a name for her. They did take note of how quickly she'd get so angry even at a very young age, so like the horrible parents they are they decided to name her after the Greek Goddess Lyssa, who represented rage and fury (and rabies in animals, if you wanna go that far lol.) So the name unfortunately fit.

Lyssa grew up doing cruel things from the get-go, whether it was torturing small animals or pulling harmful pranks to her nannies and the help around the house. But since her parents were older and busier by the time she was born, she was hardly punished for any of this.

Marvolo had tried to get Selene and Ominis to follow in his footsteps of madness however he knew that wasn't going to work out. So he turned his attention to his youngest sister. He enabled and encouraged every bad thing she did, which caused him to quickly become her favorite sibling. They were really the only two who ever got along outside of Ominis and Selene.

Lyssa was also very naturally talented at legilimency from a very young age as well. (It's a trait I HC most of the Gaunts have, however think of her like Queenie Goldstein from Fantastic Beasts). This made it so she could easily see inside people's heads, invading their privacy and finding out personal information about them. She was later used to find out information about the Aranshire incident and anything Matty had to do with it (which enabled Marvolo to use that information to blackmail her.)

Lyssa's only friends at school were the rats she found scurrying around. She'd use the unforgivable imperio to make them do anything she wanted.

Unfortunately for her, Lyssa's life ended much sooner than the others and she was never quite sure if she ever experienced true happiness. She really only felt exhilaration and "glee" from cruelty but never true happiness. In quick attempts to get their last child married off, Cyrus and Belladonna forced Lyssa into an unhealthy marriage.

However, unlike her siblings who complied. Lyssa refused and it did not go well for her, unfortunately. Lyssa took her own life within the first couple of months of the marriage, believing it was the only way to escape. She was only nineteen when this happened.

Her death only threw the Gaunts down a more slippery slope as it was the beginning to their massive downfall that would eventually render the Gaunts irrelevant, powerless, poor, and reduced to nothing but shameful criminals.

Well if you read through all of that--dang, im proud of you LOL. It's pretty grim however that's exactly how the Gaunts are so I'd say unfortunately it's pretty accurate. But thank you for reading anyway and I appreciate it! ❤️

[matan4il]

It's very interesting that anti-Zionists claim to be "anti-colonial" given the arguments I routinely see them use against Jews. For years, I've seen them use full scale blood quantum arguments, for one. Most recently, now that we're fully in "Jesus was a Palestinian" season again, I saw a famous economist claim that "Jesus is genetically closer to Palestinians, (particularly Christians) than to Israelis (0 connection to most groups)," which is false to begin with.

Personally, I'm very sensitive to this kind of argument because I'm a ger. These people go after Jews like us very hard because to them we have the wrong DNA and thus undermine Jewish indigeneity, peoplehood, and history. Even if they concede the genetic evidence of born Jews' ancestral origins, they still point at gerim and any of our descendants as the "fake Jews" who don't belong… anywhere, actually. We don't belong in Israel because we're "foreign interlopers," and we don't belong outside of Israel because we had the gall to become Jews.

It's one type of antisemitism I can't seem to numb myself toward.

Hi Nonnie! Thank you for the ask, and my apologies about how long it's taking me to reply these days. Real life is not currently kind... :(

Okay, I had to roll my eyes so hard at that propaganda lie about Jesus. (found the economist in question, love it when someone who is living as a colonizer on stolen Native American land, has the audacity to goysplain a Jewish man to Jews, who support Jewish native rights. There really is no end to how much Jews just don't count to such people, is there?)

And it really is remarkable how many things he could get wrong in just that one part of his tweet...

Jesus was not a Palestinian, he was a Jew.

If you traveled back in time, and wanted to ask him about being Palestinian, you wouldn't be able to speak to Jesus in Arabic, which is the language of the Palestinians as Arabs, you would have to speak to him in either Hebrew or Aramaic (which is so close to ancient Hebrew, that I can speak some Aramaic simply by virtue of being a native Hebrew speaker) for him to understand you. Because he was a Jew.

If you did speak to Jesus in Hebrew or Aramaic, and asked him about being Palestinian, he wouldn't know what you're talking about, because the Romans would only rename the land Provincia Syria Palaestina in 136 AD, over 100 years after his death. Calling Jesus Palestinian is like saying that Chief Powhatan (probably best known as Pocahontas' father) was a Virginian, just because he was born and lived on territory that would later become Virginia. It's anachronistic, blatantly untrue, and totally imposing colonialist inventions on native people.

To the best of my knowledge NO ONE has dug up Jesus' DNA to compare it to ANY group. This is how you can tell that when he gets to that part, this guy is just blatantly making propaganda up.

Israelis are not one group, but Israeli Jews do test close to other Middle Eastern groups, and closest to other Jewish groups from around the world.

I guess, why settle for one bit of bullshit, when you can go for five?

I find it so interesting that you used the term "blood quantum." For non-Americans, who may not know it, here's a short introduction:

A person's Blood Quantum is the fraction of their ancestors, out of their total ancestors, who are documented as full-blood Native Americans. The blood quantum policy was first implemented by the federal government within tribes to limit native citizenship. However, since 1934, tribes were granted the authority/ability to create their own enrollment qualifications.

I find it interesting, because I keep thinking Jews and First Nations have so much in common, as native peoples. I remember coming across at least two different stories of people being adopted into Native American tribes. Obviously, each first nation has its own rules about it, before and after the colonization of America, but the point is... there is room for someone to become a member of the tribe, not based on blood. Most of the time, membership of the tribe IS based on ancestry, but it isn't limited to that. Some people come and live with the tribe, adopt its customs and way of life, emerge themselves in the values and heritage, embrace its spiritual beliefs, become a member of this community, and then they are adopted in. It's the same with Jews. Most of us are born Jewish, some of us choose to live this lifestyle, embrace the customs, beliefs and culture, go to synagogue, get to know the community, and eventually adopt and are adopted by it. That's the thing. Converting to Judaism isn't just changing your belief system. It's joining a tribe, and changing one's identity through this process of mutual adoption. Converts to Judaism don't take away ANYTHING from the native rights of Jews. On the contrary, this process of conversion is so different to when someone moves from one religion to another (think of how much simpler baptism is, to the long journey of converting to Judaism), precisely because Judaism isn't just a religion, unlike Christianity and Islam. It is an entire, intricate identity that combines multiple aspects, as all ancient, native identities do.

And in this context, think of Americans who are mostly of European descent, and have nothing to do with Native American culture, or way of life, but they can point to having an "exotic" great great great grandfather, who was a Native American chief. From what I've gathered, they would not be considered members of the tribe by most Native American nations. But the person who lives with the tribe, and shares its ways and its fate? That person is recognized as such by the tribe members.

Jews are the same. We are not native just because our ancestors are from Israel. We are also native, because we are the people who have preserved that Israelite identity. We have carried its torch, and passed it on along the generations, and we have shared our light with those, who chose to stand with us, to share our ways, our fate, and the consequences of the horrible hatred aimed at us.

I love you, my fellow tribe member. Thank you for sharing the light, and the burden, together! *sending so much love* xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[clumsiestgiantess]

The Walls Won’t Be There Forever, part 2 (Similarly to the first part, this story deals with the pet trope and has some themes of dehumanization — however condemning of them as the story itself may be. So if things of that nature trigger you, please DO NOT read!) If they don’t, and you’re prepared for angst, then welcome to part 2! It’s been a while, but I hope you still enjoy!

It’s been five months since I escaped.  To my thankful surprise, the terrifying little human hadn’t sounded the alarm the moment she couldn’t find me.  My guess is that she didn’t want to get in trouble for losing me.  Ironically, her older sister also lost her ‘pet’ too, just a few days ago.  I was thrilled to have someone else to talk to, and heartened that I could be there to help them transition out of pethood.  I wish I had someone who could've helped me with that.  Through tedious trial and error, I figured out what areas of the house to avoid.  It took me months to build up a decent living space for myself, far from any wall traps.  

However, when I traveled up to the older sister’s room to welcome the newcomer, they were nowhere to be found.  I searched the whole day, quietly calling out to them.  I knew they would be scared, but I didn’t think they’d be so scared they’d avoid their own kind.  Later, I checked the traps to see if they’d fallen into one.  Still nothing.  What if they ran all the way outside, searching for another house entirely?  I’d thought of doing that myself, but it was too cold outside to get very far.  If they had gone outside, they were a lost cause.  

Another, more sinister option sprung into my mind days after searching for the missing person.  The older sister human had seemed almost averse to having a pet.  What if she got rid of them and claimed she lost them?  This notion got me thinking.  It had seemed as though they’d disappeared rather than escaped.  

I felt awful for my fellow ‘pet’.  Humans release creatures back into nature, even if they might not belong there.  I couldn’t help but imagine someone like myself, who’s never been so much as a few steps outside a house, suddenly cast into the vast wilderness that even humans couldn’t tame.  That was probably the worst case scenario.  Even being straight up murdered would be better than slowly freezing to death outside, or eaten alive by some giant creature.  There’s a good reason we live in human houses.  It was disheartening finding no one to welcome, but I’m used to bad news by now.  

After avoiding the upstairs and its residents for another few weeks, I was forced to sneak into the older sister’s room.  For some reason, the humans moved the sewing box from its usual spot in the closet to beneath her desk.  This was just more bad news.  I like to go on supply runs in empty, dark places where humans have no chance to catch me.  I never actually stole from humans before all this, so the only times I ever feel at ease enough to go out are when the room is desolate.  

My father did all that dangerous stuff when I was younger.  I stayed in the walls, cooking and cleaning and practicing medicine.  Having to hide from humans is a new concept for me; I’ve always been hidden from them, which made it all the more shocking to have one so close.  Especially my awful ‘owner’.

At first she treated me carelessly, like a doll.  In the first few days alone I’d been more bruised than I ever had in my life.  I couldn’t even ask her for the proper things I needed to heal them.  I couldn’t even speak in Aubrey’s presence, which is awful because I was in her room.  She was always there.

Fortunately, she handled me with a fraction more care after she’d nearly taken off my arm.  It was so much more terrifying than even being caught.  I always tried not to struggle against her, but she just kept trying to stuff me into a toy car that obviously wouldn’t fit me.  Her grip was so rough I really thought I would be crushed — snapped apart and broken up to fit inside a tiny claustrophobic space.  I’d panicked — I’d struggled — my flailing arm was snapped out of the socket caught on a piece of cheap plastic, slicing it wide open.  

I remember screaming only briefly before I was silenced by a cloth held painfully tight against my face, and orders to be quiet.  My screams came to a choked halt, but I don’t think I stopped crying the entire day.  I never liked my human captor; after that day I decided to hate her.

Thankfully, after Aubrey realized she couldn’t get me out, she at least told her sister.  Her sister…  I was so sure she’d actually kill me getting me out.  Her fingers were so much stronger than her younger sister’s — I could feel the bone-crushing tension in them as she cut me out of that awful thing.  She tortured me with rudimentary ways to heal my wounds in the least amount possible, leaving a long scar across my arm that I still have to this day.  I can’t even think about her cruelty now, but back then I was actually thankful for something like that.  Her sister would’ve left me stranded.

There was a single good thing that came out of that ordeal, however.  Aubrey had been so upset by the thought that I could actually die if I was mishandled — something I could’ve told her day one — that she refused to handle me for very long afterwards.  That didn’t stop her from accidentally harming me again and again during the times she did handle me, though.  One day, she accidentally left the top off my cage after bringing me some food, and I made a quick escape.

It was almost too much for me to handle.  I lay in a dust-covered corner of the walls just past my threshold to freedom — the wall outlet — curled up into a tight protective ball for hours.  My nerves and brain were so overwhelmed by fear that I couldn’t even cry.  I just lay there and shook, staring at the interior of a wall as tears quietly leaked out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

Almost a full day later, I finally got up and stumbled through the labyrinth of wall corridors and traps to find some food and water.  Thankfully, the traps I’d encountered weren’t any of the deadly varieties.  If I’d stumbled across those I might not have lived long enough to figure out how to avoid them.

Eventually, through a lot of outings in the dead of night, I slowly built up a little place for myself deep within the human family’s walls.  I wanted to get far far away from the torturous monsters who had bought and hurt me, but it was too risky to take that kind of trip with the humans on alert after my escape.  The hidden code didn’t have anything about what to do after escaping a human.  It was assumed that if a human caught you there was no need for escape — you were dead.

I postponed my journey out of the house for a fair amount of time since I was uncertain about any sort of procedure for escape.  However, the longer I waited, the better I’d built my house until eventually I decided to stay.  None of the humans even seemed to notice my disappearance; even Aubrey acted like nothing was wrong — stuffing little pillows beneath my bed to make it look like I was sleeping, and covering my old cage with a light blanket so no one could look in too closely for too long to tell I wasn’t there.

Now, five months later here I am — stealing supplies like a pro.  Or.. at least better than how I’d started out.

When I stepped up to the electrical cover of Aubrey’s older sister’s room, her voice spoke happily — revertibrating across the space.  I scanned the room, but I couldn’t see any other humans.  I guess she’s on the phone, I realized, slowly lifting the cover off the wall.  Humans are awful, for the most part, but their inventions are beyond belief.  Apparently, the other human she’s talking to could be on the other side of the world.  It was mind-blowing to think about.  How do they even get their voices to travel that far?  

Once I was certain that she was distracted, I slid down to the floor and ran for the nearest hiding place.  The human was sitting at her desk, and the box I needed was just beneath it.  I waited for her to speak before I dashed beneath the desk from behind, coming to a halt beside the box.  It was open, lid strewn to the side, and the quiet voice that I assumed was another human on the phone spoke at full volume now.  Something shifted around, pushing items to the sides.  I froze, too scared and confused to move.

A person my own size hauled themselves over the top of the box.  She began talking to the human, but stopped abruptly when she noticed me.  There were a few seconds of stunned silence where neither of us moved, before the human pulled back in her chair, confused why the conversation halted.  

The thundering sound of the human moving her chair back brought me out of my trance.  I raced to the outlet as fast as I could.  My mind reeled.  Who and what was that!?  Were there normal-sized humans as well as giant ones?  

Before I could get back up and into the walls, the strange smaller human ran after me.  I yelped in terror — running as fast as I could to the opening in the wall.  “Wait!  Come back!”  Picking up the pace, I threw myself into the cut in the insulation without even replacing the outlet cover.  Hopefully, I could lose the strange mini human in the maze of wood and ventilation.  I expertly navigated the labyrinth of wooden supports, the strange human chasing me all the while, calling out for me to stop.

Suddenly, a snap rang out and her calls ceased with a pained cry.  I cautiously slowed to a halt, tiptoeing back the way I’d ran to listen.  Labored breaths echoed from further back down the wall.  No, I scolded myself internally, you are not going back for that strange small human.  However, another desperate groan of agony rang out, and I found myself slinking towards the sound.

By the time I found her, the little human lay unconscious beside an awful trap.  Most likely, she'd passed out from the pain.  Her leg was twisted all wrong, bent out of place by the metal jaws that hung on either side of the wall.  The trap she was caught in looked brutal.  It consisted of two poised bands of metal, hanging on either side of an older pathway inside the wall.  They were held open by a thin wire that stretched between them.  I knew how to catch tripwires before triggering them, so I swiftly evaded it and kept running.  This strange human couldn't have seen it coming.

Though she'd been chasing me only moments ago, I knew I couldn't leave her like that.  I never intended for her to get snared by a trap; I just wanted to confuse her so I could get away.  Using my small walking staff I usually used to avoid traps, I pried open the clamp’s metal jaws and moved the strange human's leg out from inside it.  I sucked in a shocked breath of air as I brought my light over her.  It was worse than I thought.  Her leg was bloody and mangled.  I gagged at the sight.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, though I knew she couldn't hear me, "I didn't mean for this to happen."  Carefully, I bent down and hoisted her up, draping her unconscious form halfway over my shoulders.  In a slow shamble, I headed back home.  My thoughts raced during the silent journey.  Was this person my own height really a smaller human?  Logically, it made more sense that she was one of my own kind, specifically the person that the other human kept as a pet — but that made just as little sense.  The two were talking happily, as though they'd been friends for a long time.  If this person really is the 'pet' that the human had kept, I doubt that they'd be so close.  

Eventually, I made it back to my home.  I collapsed into a chair the moment I got my new guest into bed.  It isn't really a bed, per se.  Technically, it's a knitted mitten that one of the humans used to own, just like my chair is technically an upside-down plastic coffee pod, but what does it matter?  That’s what I’m using it as, so that’s what it is.

After catching my breath, I got to work setting my strange guest's leg.  I'd barely moved the limb when she suddenly sprang to life.  I jumped back as she grabbed my arm, yelping in pain.  She assessed the room at lightning speed, trying to process what happened and where she was.

Her behavior was baffling.  Incredibly fast reflexes like those only came with proper thievery training.  She isn't a smaller human after all.  Finally, her wide-eyed gaze rested on me, and she hesitantly released my arm.  

"You.. You're the-  Ahhg!" she cut herself off with another cry of pain.  Now that she actually took notice of her injury, her mouth opened in silent horror.  "It's alright," I told her out of the blue.  Slowly, her stricken gaze turned back to me.  "I can fix this.  It'll take some time, but I can help.  If you're lucky, all you'll have is a limp afterwards."

Her perplexed stare became pained again and I rushed off to get some pain reliever.  When I returned, my strange guest gave me a baffled expression.  "That's.. human medicine.  Won't that just.. I don't know, kill me?"  I shook my head, taking the small tablet and crushing it into a sizable piece.   "It won't kill you, so long as you take the right dosage."  Her blank stare suggested that she had no idea what I meant.  I doubt she'd been taught much about healing if she was one of the thieving types.  

Handing over the small piece of medicine and a cup of water, I ordered her to swallow it, then went to get something to act as a splint.  "Are you.. one of us?" I asked hesitantly, still disbelieving that she’d actually been conversing with a human.  Pain no longer distorted her face, all that was left was a look of pure confusion.  "Obviously, I mean…  What else would I be, a tiny human?"  Her sarcasm died off as she realized that's exactly what I'd thought.  "You were talking with that human,” I replied, “We're not even supposed to let them know we're smart, never mind having a conversation with them!"

This got her quiet.  She watched in silence as I pulled up a chair to the edge of the bed and reached for her leg.  "Wh- What are you doing?"  The tiniest spark of fear lit her eyes.  I was the one who inadvertently lured her into that trap, after all.  "I'm going to have to reset your leg," I explained, "I'm not going to lie, it'll hurt a lot."  I grabbed a clean piece of cloth and handed it to her.  "You might want to bite down on this to keep from yelling.  I don't want the humans to hear."  

There was a long moment of silence as the other Hidden-being stared me down.  "Who are you?" she asked, "How long have you been living here for?  Why haven't I seen you around?"  All good questions, but I didn't have the time.  The quicker I set her leg, the better.  "Later," I told her, "Let me do this first.  Just bite down on that cloth and please don't attack me.  It'll seem like I'm purposefully hurting you, but I swear I'm just fixing your leg."  "Alright," she said quietly, "I'm ready."

Both the sounds of the bones in her leg and her muffled cries of pain made me squeamish, but I had to press on.  I felt awful for doing this to her.  I could’ve warned her the trap was there, but I didn’t; I hoped it would slow her down by blocking the hallway.  If she’d been running any slower, she would have been completely crushed by the metal clamps.  To think that humans wanted us gone so badly, they were willing to create such terrible contraptions in order to kill us.  There was a time when I believed the walls were the safehaven of a human household.  Nowhere is safe anymore.

A long hour passed as I did my work.  I bound the Hidden’s leg with a split, and dressed the blood-crusted gashes.  She’d slipped out of consciousness sometime during the ordeal, so the room became eerily quiet when I finished, save for the labored breaths of my guest.  I fixed us a meal while waiting nervously for her to wake.  

Alone with my thoughts, I found myself again wondering about her origins.  Was she really the other ‘pet’?  Had she really done the impossible and befriended a human?  If I’d spoken to Aubrey, and let her see that I was a sentient creature…  Firstly, I’d be breaking a core rule of my kind.  Secondly, I’d be so terrified by the human’s presence that I probably couldn’t have said much anyway.  

A groan rose from the other room and I rushed to the bed.  The other Hidden-being was awake.  She sat up slowly, taking in a pained breath of air.  “I probably shouldn’t get up, should I?” she asked me, resting her back on the wall behind her.  Hesitantly, I placed a plate of food beside her on the bed.  “Are you well enough to eat?”  She nodded and took a few small bites.  “Who are you?” she asked again, “Where are we?”  I sat in the chair I put beside the bed earlier.  “I’m June,” I answered, “This is my home; I built it just above the kitchen.  Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”  My comforts were met with a rather pensive look.  “I’m Wren,” she introduced herself.  An awkward pause hung in the air.  It was late, and I turned away, trying to hide my yawn.  

“Do you know about the other person here, the other.. pet?” she asked quietly, “Aubrey, the smaller human, is keeping one of us locked up!  Have you seen them?  Are they alright?”  

I took a sharp breath.  “I was Aubrey’s pet,” I responded, “Are you her sister’s?”  Wren shook her head harshly, “I’ll never be a pet.  No one, not even a human, can tell me what to do.”  I was going to ask if the human she’d been speaking to told her what to do, but I didn’t get the chance.  “What about you?” she continued, “I thought her sister still had her pet.  How are you here?”  “I escaped,” I said simply.  “And the human didn’t tell anyone?”  “No, I think she was trying to stay out of trouble.”  

Wren seemed to understand that.  “Oh yeah, my human got in a lot of trouble when she ‘lost’ me,” she said, making air quotes for the word lost.  “Her parents had her do so many chores, she didn’t have an ounce of free time to see me that whole week.”  I glanced at her skeptically.  “Your human?” I repeated.  “Well, it’s-“ she thought for a moment, “We’re friends; it’s complicated.”  

“No.. it shouldn’t be.  Humans and us Hidden can’t be friends,” I spat suddenly, “That’s insane!  Look at what that human trap did to you!  How could you trust that human enough to be friends with her?”  Wren tried to explain, but I stood up and went to the doorway.  “I’m tired.  It’s late.  I can’t process this right now.”  It was horribly rude of me, but I’m not in the mood to argue tonight.

I ended up sleeping on the floor with a blanket.  Wren had taken the only bed, and she certainly needed it more than I did.  In the morning, I had to help her over to the bathroom so she could get around without putting weight on her leg.  When at last she settled down, I went to get some more medicine, but she spoke.

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time…”  I paused in the doorway.  “Hidden.  I stopped calling myself that the day I was captured.  We aren’t exactly ‘hidden beings’ anymore.”  Sighing, I turned to her and leaned on the doorframe, “That’s what we are, Wren.”  She shrugged, “Humans call us ‘Borrowers’.  I think I like that name.”  I grumble and grudgingly go get the medicine.  When I return, Wren stays silent for a bit. 

“Hey, about last night…”  I glanced up at her tiredly.  “Just hear me out, please?  Liz, the human I was talking to, she’s not like other humans.”  “How?” I challenged, “Why?”  “It.. was an accident, her finding out about us being smart and whatnot.  I screwed up and spoke in front of her.  She had every opportunity to call me out on it — to tell the other humans and ruin our secret.  But she didn’t.  Liz found out I was just like any other person.. and treated me like one.  I don’t know why or how she’s like that, but she is.”  

I doubted it; it went against everything I’d been taught about humans.  “So, when she ‘lost’ you…”  “Liz pretended to lose me so she could free me.  And-”  Wren paused, giving me a look that was almost sorry.  “And I have to tell her I’m alright.”

“What?” I asked, confused.  “You can barely stand on your own!  How are you getting all the way to her room?”  “I don’t know, how did you get me here?”  I sighed, “I can’t take you all the way back, it’ll mess up your leg.”  “Then you need to go for me.”  I blanched at the mere thought of being in front of another human.  “No,” I replied forcefully, “I am NOT going anywhere near that human, or any other human.  I don’t care what you say, I don’t trust them, and you shouldn’t either!”

“Well, I do!” Wren shot back, “And you don’t have to talk to her at all.  Let me write her a note.  You can leave it out somewhere she’ll see it.  Please.”  Her voice grew softer, “I don’t want her to worry about me.  What if she heard me get caught in the trap?  I could be dead for all she knows!”  My eyes closed tightly, and I sank into a chair.  It felt like my body was shutting down on itself as my head fell into my hands.  “If I do this.. you owe me.”  Wren nodded eagerly, “I can have Liz get whatever you want.  I’ll deliver it for you when I’m better.”

The deal was beyond tempting.  If Wren and that human are really friends, I have no doubt that she could get just about anything I could dream of.  I reasoned that it couldn’t hurt if I simply delivered a letter.  Get in, leave it on the floor by the electrical socket, get out.  It would be easier than a supply run.  

Wren could tell that I’d given in.  She reached out expectantly, waiting for a piece of paper and something to write with.  With a long sigh, I got up and gathered a scrap of paper and a piece of pencil lead I’d taken.  Handing them over, I sat waiting nervously for her to write the letter.  It seemed like forever and no time at all before she’d finished.  “Put it somewhere she’ll find it,” Wren instructed.  “I will.”  Soon, I began the trek to Liz’s room.  Everything went smoothly until I got to the electrical cover.  I stood in front of it, staring blankly at the slits of light beaming in from the other side.

This was it.  Get in, leave the letter, get out.  Simple.  Taking a deep breath, I pulled the cover aside and peered out.  The room was silent and empty, which put my racing heart at ease.  I slid down to the floor and snuck out to the edge of the room.  Digging into my bag, I pulled out the letter.  Footsteps echoed outside the door, and I froze in fear.  Thankfully, it sounded like Aubrey’s footsteps, meaning that she was on her way to her own room, not this one.  I’d just set the letter down when a new set of footsteps rang out.  At that same moment, the door to the room swung open.

It was Liz.  I dashed to the electrical socket, but she was bigger, and I was so scared that I fumbled with the climbing rope.  In no time at all, I was met with a wall of flesh.  I scrambled backwards, terrified.  I could do nothing but watch in horror as hands larger than myself squeezed in around me.  “No!  Wait!” I cried out.  However, my pleas weren’t even acknowledged.  Liz held me in one gigantic fist, dragging me through the air towards her desk.  I screamed, thrashing in her grip.  Suddenly, I was let go.  I fell roughly onto the surface of the desk in front of her.  

Immediately, I scrambled behind a stack of books that were piled on her desk.  My attempt to hide must’ve been laughable to the human.  She simply pulled the books away from me.  

“What did you do with Wren?”  Her voice echoed in waves through my head while my vision swam.  “N- Nothing,” I whimpered, pressing myself to the wall behind me.  Liz leaned over the desk, inching menacingly closer.  “I don’t know what the punishment is for befriending a human, but I heard her in the walls, crying in pain.  So I’ll ask you again.  What did you do with her?”  

I could barely focus.  Not only had she heard Wren get hurt, she thought I’d hurt her, as punishment for breaking a crucial survivalist rule.  “I didn’t do anything to her, I swear!  She chased after me, you saw that, right?”  Liz’s narrowed eyes widened slightly.  “I did.”  “S- She ran through a trap while she chased me.  Please, you have to believe me!  Look at the letter!”  

Liz sat back; her face rapidly lost color.  A wave of silence drifted over the room.  “She.. got caught in a trap?  Is she alright?” Liz asked, suddenly sobered by my news.  It took me a moment to realize that the human looked awfully worried about Wren — interest in me completely lost.  I opened my mouth to speak, but tears welled in my eyes.  Despite my best efforts to calm myself, I began crying.  A few moments ago, I saw my life flash before my eyes.  Wren was very wrong.  Liz is terrifying.  I sank to the ground, curling up with my back pressed into the wall behind me.

“Hey, I- I’m sorry,” a voice spoke softly from above.  I was so shocked by the shift in Liz’s tone, that I managed to look up at her.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.  You’re my sister’s…”  She paused, unwilling to call me what I’d been.  “I escaped,” I confessed meekly.  “I remember you,” her voice dropped to an almost whisper.  “I… helped you out of that toy car.  God, I wanted to take you away to safety the moment I saw you.”  I blinked.  Then.. why didn’t you?  

It suddenly occurred to me that she could return me to Aubrey — to my little personal hell.  “Please don’t bring me back!” I yelped.  Liz smiled sadly, “Of course I won’t.  You shouldn’t have had to endure that to begin with.  I’m sorry I scared you, but you’re safe here.”  I hesitantly wiped the tears from my face, “Safe?" I repeated, confused.  "You just grabbed me.”  Liz glanced guiltily at the spot on the floor where I’d been standing.  “What’s that?” she asked, nodding to the letter on the floor.  “A letter.  Wren wrote it for you.”

Liz went over and picked it up.  I watched as she carefully read the note, which suddenly looked tiny in her hands.  When she turned back to me, her expression had shifted entirely.  “Thank you,” Liz said earnestly, coming back to sit at her desk.  “Thank you for taking care of Wren.  I’m honestly glad she’s with you, and not only because you know how to help her.”  Liz backed off slightly, allowing me more of a distance between us so I wasn’t pressed against the wall.  “Wren’s been.. homesick, I think.  She needs another Borrower in her life.  I can’t imagine living without any other humans around; it can’t be much different for you.”

I stood on the desk in thought for a while.  There was that name again, ‘Borrower’.  We don’t even borrow, we steal.  Is that some kind of demeaning term humans like to use?  Why was Wren ok with it?  Why is Wren ok with any of this!?

Liz offered me a small meal to calm me down some.  I tried a bit of the food to satisfy her, though I could barely stomach it.  “Is it true?” I asked, needing to know the answer, “Did you really free Wren?”  Liz sighed, “It’s one thing to own some creature that looks like a person, but when I realized what Wren and the rest of you are, I.. I couldn't leave her trapped in there.  I didn't even want a Borrower because I thought it was unsettling how similar you are to us."  

"I remember," I agreed quietly, "Aubrey was upset that you got to have a.. pet too."  Liz nodded, "But you escaped!  That's impressive!  I was beginning to wonder what happened to you because my sister never mentions you much anymore.  Now I know why.  How did you manage that, anyways?"  Thinking back, I suddenly became defensive.  Humans are awful.  Liz was awful to me.

I don't know why she’s deciding to be so nice right now, but she could easily switch back to the horrifying personality that snatched me off the floor and accused me of hurting someone.  Liz is the sister of my previous captor.  I don't particularly feel like sticking around to make small talk.

"I have to go," I said decisively, a bit more harshly than I intended.  "I'll heal your friend, but then.. I have to move now.  It's my people’s code."  "Wh- What?" Liz stammered, "You aren't leaving soon, are you?  It's freezing outside!"  "I have blankets," I replied curtly.  I stormed over to the edge of the desk, reaching for my bag and my climbing rope.  "You don't have to leave!  I'll keep your secret like I'm keeping Wren's, I promise!" Liz told me, still trying to convince me to stay.  Why does she want me here so badly?  Maybe it's a trap — using Wren as bait to lure other Hidden-beings out of hiding.

When I got to the floor, I turned my back to her and walked off toward the outlet cover.  It was a risky move, but I wanted Liz to know for certain that I made up my mind.  She stammered a few half-baked excuses as I slid back into the outlet.  I didn't stop marching away until I was deep within the walls.  With a shuddering cry, I sank to the ground.  I've worked so hard to make a home for myself here — to avoid the freezing temperatures outside — but now I have no choice.

Wiping the mist from my eyes, I plastered on a nonchalant expression and returned to my home and Wren.  "Did she find the note?" Wren asked me the moment I stepped into the room.  "Yeah, I watched from behind the outlet.  She read it and looked relieved.  That was about it."  

Of course I lied to her.  I didn't dare tell her how horrifying her beloved human had been to me.  I also hadn’t told her my plan to leave the moment she was out of my home.  I wanted to heal her; no matter what she thought of humans, she was still my own kind, and I felt responsible for her.  Over the next few days, I did everything in my power to stay as far away from Liz as I could until I could get away from her for good.  

Nightmare after nightmare stalked me down nearly every night, and I rarely went out to gather supplies anymore.  What did it matter if I had stuff saved?  I’d be leaving most of it behind when I left anyway.  I cried a lot, too — in a little crevice far away from Wren or any of the humans.  I just.. don’t know what to do anymore.  At this rate it only feels like I’m delaying another mortifying inevitable capture.

A week or two after I took Wren in, her leg had healed enough that she could walk on it, with the help of a walking stick, that is.  When she was well enough to make the journey, I helped her to the electrical socket in Liz's room, but stopped there.  "Well, this is as far as I take you.  Thanks for keeping me company these past few days, it's been.. nice."  Though Wren's human seems suspicious, Wren herself was not all that bad to have around.  Her company had been a good change of pace for me.  I hated to think that I would soon be alone again.

"Thank you for healing up my leg," Wren replied, "I'll come by to visit you soon, ok?"  I nodded silently, knowing that she would be walking into an empty room.  "Take care, and try not to fall into any more traps.  Go enjoy freedom, I guess."  Wren quickly tried to convince me again that I could have 'freedom' too, but I reminded her that I do have freedom.  Real freedom.  The kind I created myself instead of relying on some human to give it to me.  I didn't tell her that last part.

After another round of goodbyes and thank yous, Wren went to wait for Liz and I went back to my home to pack.  A sour feeling rested in my throat as I began dividing things up between what I could bring and what I couldn't.  Once everything I could possibly take was packed, I slept one last time in my bed here before my journey.  I woke when I sensed that night had fallen.  It was time for me to go.

It took me a half-hour to get out of the house, but I eventually found a vent that left me standing in the side yard.  The moment I slid outside, a freezing wind rushed over the ground, cutting right through my meager coverings and stitched-together blankets.  I desperately wanted to go back inside to the home I'd made for myself, but thanks to the awful human, I can't.  

One chilly step at a time, I began the long journey across the backyard to the next house over.  I nearly set off a trap as I rounded the perimeter of the house, scaring me to my senses.  It was rapidly growing dark and I was only about a quarter of the way through my trip.  The cold had made things harder than I'd planned, and it was only going to get colder as the night wore on.  Please, just let me make it there without getting frostbite.  The universe only laughed at my pathetic plea.  Minutes afterward, the sky completely darkened.  It began to snow.

My heart seized painfully in my chest like the day I'd been caught and the day I'd been sold.  It was an instinctive feeling of my body telling me there was a very good chance I'm going to die.  Quickly, I fought back tears and continued onward.  Even if I had gone back, I couldn't have gotten inside the house.  The vent opening was too far above my head.  Heavier flakes began to pile up, and I shuddered each time one landed on me — soaking freezing water through my clothing.  Soon, there was a light dusting of frozen crystals of water over the entire ground, and my feet were starting to lose feeling.

How long can I last?  Is there even a point in trying to trek to the next house when I’m clearly not going to make it?  Though I knew for certain that it would be my last night alive, I kept moving forwards, refusing to give up.  If I stopped moving, the cold would only take me faster.  My persistence was met with deeper and deeper snow as the night wore on.  Eventually, it was up to my waist, and I didn't have the energy to continue wading through the bitterly cold substance any longer.

Crying out in anguish and despair, I fell to the ground, numb and completely exhausted.  Curling up in a tight ball, I shivered against myself, desperately trying to generate at least a little heat.  My eyes grew heavier by the second, and I began drifting in and out of bitter darkness.

After my eyes had been closed for some time, a faint light shone behind them.  Is this what happens before you die?  The light became brighter and my numb body moved just slightly, reaching for it.  "June?"  Death was calling to me.  I was so sure of it.  I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound came out.  The last of my energy drained, I fell back into the inky black void of unconsciousness.

What felt like instantly, I was lightly jostled awake by the feeling of rising into the air.  A sudden warmth engulfed me, and I greeted it eagerly, only for the heat to become burning against my frostbitten skin.  I groaned and tried to escape it, but the heat seemed to be all around me at once.  Weakly, I shoved at the space.  "It's ok, I'll put you down in a second," a voice spoke from high above me, "Let me get somewhere safer first."  A few moments later, I was deposited on something cooler, and I gasped, soaking in the ambient warmth as my vision swam.

The entire time, and for some time afterwards, my mind was trapped in a constant fog.  I didn't feel like opening my eyes, but when I did, the only things I could make out were vague shapes and colors all swirling together almost nauseatingly.  Quickly, I closed them again.  Voices spoke to each other, but I could barely comprehend the words.  Laying in almost total disorientation, I silently thanked the universe for letting me live, and begged it to have landed me somewhere nice, with people that I could trust.  Was that too much to ask after my near-death experience?  I hoped not.

After initially being brought inside, I basked in the warmth that came from simply being in that place.  But as I began to warm up more, I started to shiver again.  I tried to speak, to tell whoever had taken me in that I was getting colder, but all that came from my lips was a weak cry.  Thankfully, one of my saviors realized what I wanted and spread a blanket over me.  I pulled it in closer and tried to sit up, but my arm quickly gave out beneath me.

“Here, don’t strain yourself.  I’ll get you something for you to sit up on.”  Still in a fog, I wasn’t sure if I recognized their voice, but their hands were about the same size as my own, so at the very least I’d been found by one of my own kind.  Relief let me relax as I was propped up slightly and offered a drink.  Soon my head cleared enough for me to open my eyes.

My heart nearly flew from my chest when I took in the sight in front of me.  I was back on Liz’s desk, in the exact same place I’d been before.  

“No!” I rasped, trying in vain to get up, “I did all this to get away from you!  Why are you here?!”  Liz backed away looking hurt as Wren came over and tried to calm me down.  “She’s not going to hurt you,” she assured me, “I won’t let her.”  “Like you can stop her?” I spat.  “She could grab both of us and stuff us back in a cage and neither of us could do anything about it!  Why, why do you trust her!?  How can you trust someone who can do that to you!?”  “She wouldn’t.”  “She did!” I nearly screamed, “She almost crushed me the moment she spotted me!”  

“And that was her mistake!” Wren shot back, “I’ve scolded her and made her promise never to touch you without your permission.”  My mouth opened and closed silently for a second.  “Do you really think she’ll keep that promise?”  “I do.”

I glanced at Liz, standing quietly to the side with a chastised expression.  Her gaze wandered anywhere but the desk where Wren and I stood.  “Liz told me what happened when I got back; what you conveniently didn’t tell me.  She only threatened you because she thought you’d hurt me.  She was only trying to protect me.”  “Well, that’s good for you,” I huffed sarcastically, glaring at the gigantic girl.  “You can have your protective little human all to yourself, then.”

I could tell Wren was trying extremely hard not to continue our yelling match.  Her expression remained calm, but there was an angered sharpness to her gaze.  “You could have at least waited until it was warmer.  You must know better than to leave in the middle of winter,” she said.  I scoffed, “Have you forgotten all the rules?  I had to leave!  She saw me!” I replied, jabbing a finger at Liz.  She flinched as I did.  “I know you don’t really care anymore, being a pet and all, but those rules have kept us free and safe.  The only reason we’re in this situation is because of people like you who choose to break them!”

Loud silence suddenly fell over the room.  I was frightened by it.  I’d expected Wren to finally snap and reply with something hurtful in return — maybe even sick her terrible human on me — but she just stood there, staring out at nothing.  

“I didn’t choose to break the rules,” she finally said in a quiet breath.  “I didn’t choose to reveal anything to the humans.  When Liz found out the truth, it scared me just as much as it scares you.  But she used my moment of weakness to help me rather than hurt me, and I owe every good thing I have now to her.”  

Liz suddenly burst into tears.  The sound sent me on high alert.  A sad human was only one wrong word away from an angry one.  Wren whirled around, shocked.  “Liz, what-?”  “I’m so sorry!” she sobbed, “After all the time I’ve spent with you, my first instinct was to hurt the only other Borrower I know!  M- Maybe she’s right!  You don’t belong with me.  You deserve to have safety without having to fully rely on one person with power over everything!”

Wren turned away from me, rushing to the edge of the desk that was closest to the human.  “Liz, no!  Y- You can’t be serious!  I do belong with you!  Our way of life doesn’t work anymore.  This is the new way, the better way, to live!  I don’t completely rely on you; I still borrow supplies for myself every day, and you don’t even know.  With the right humans and borrowers working together, we can change history for the better!”  

“Better?” I questioned bitterly, causing both sets of eyes to turn to me.  “How can living with monstrous beings like humans make our lives better?  They were the best they could be without them.  The only reason we would need them at all is to convince other humans not to kill us on sight.”

Wren rubbed her temples tiredly.  “You just…  You don’t understand,” she told me — voice falling.  “Humans have so much more freedom than we ever did, even in our old lives.  We rarely got to communicate with others of our kind; stepping outside was like being in another world; and we had to get by on so little that we had to starve ourselves to continue living sometimes.  You call that the best life we can live?  Really?  We aspire to be slightly advanced rats?  That’s what you want to be?”  

Tears welled in the corners of my eyes, remembering my younger brother, who starved himself to sickness and eventually death trying to let the rest of us have a bit more to eat.  Then there was my mother, who was impaled trying to cut into the water pipe so we could have access to the humans’ supply.  “No,” I whispered on the verge of tears.  “It isn’t what I aspire to be, but what other choice do I have when they control everything?”

Slowly, Wren came over and sat beside me, offering me a gentle hug.  I broke down in another fit of tears, and watched out of the corner of my eye as Liz fled the room.  

“We do have a choice,” Wren told me after I’d calmed.  “All our kind needs is enough good humans to vouch for us.  They could end everything we fear, but they don’t know we’re even capable of thinking the same way they do.  If we can’t speak for ourselves, they’ll have to.”  It pained me inside and out, but I had to ask.  “What if we break the rules?  What if we show the whole world of humans just how similar we all are to eachother?  Then we can vouch for ourselves.”  Wren was quiet for a while, thinking, then turned around.  

“Liz, what if we-” she stopped, realizing the human was gone.  “What..?  Where did she go?”  I shrugged, “She ran out of the room a while ago.”  “Dammit I keep telling her she shouldn’t group herself in with the torturous ones of her kind..  I- I don’t want to leave you here alone, but-”  “Go,” I told her in a sudden flare of certainty.  “I’ll be fine now that I’ve warmed up.”

Wren glanced between me and the doorway.  “I’ll be right back.”  Then she turned and slid down the side of the desk with expert movements — not even needing a rope or grapple.  Now that was the work of someone who was trained how to traverse human spaces.  

I still can’t believe it’s come back to me being in a human’s clutches again.  Though, I guess if I’m being kept here by anyone, it’s Wren.  I want to help her.  I want to help myself.  However, the prospect of helping myself no longer included running away to hide in a different home — that was clearly a horrific idea that would’ve killed me if it weren’t for the human looking out for me.  

All I did was follow my people’s code; it’s supposed to keep me alive, not put me in danger.  Yet.. everything that saved me just now was against those rules.  Just like everything that saved Wren went against them. Maybe things really do have to change.  The thought frightened me just as much as it exited me.  Something had to happen, but would it be for better, or for worse?

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

"You two have caused quite a fuss."

A fuss, Crowley thinks, is quite a polite way of putting it. Between them they've managed to fumble both the Anti-Christ and the Second Coming and start two wars. Maybe three; the exact Divine politics is a little lost on Crowley, who never really thought there was all that much difference between a war and an intervention and a brief disagreement anyway.

He wondered how Adam and Eliana were doing. They'd attempted to introduce them, with a bit of clever planning and a couple of miracles to get around some language and distance barriers. Their attempts had been less than successful: the Anti-Christ and the Second Coming had gotten on at first, but then had launched into an argument about the minutiae of tackling climate change and had both declared the other irredeemable. 

It had been a good shot, anyway. Aziraphale had thought they may have made a rather good match, likely still riding the high from his matchmaking with the humans.

At least Crowley had talked him out of hosting another ball.

Quite a fuss.

The guys Downstairs would have described the situation as catastrophically fucked and thrown them both into a burning pit. Somehow, "quite a fuss" was even more terrifying.

"We have been discussing what to do with you," Michael said, in the placid tone one might use while addressing a poorly behaved puppy.

"Obviously," put in Uriel, "we cannot allow you to continue as you have been."

"Obviously," Aziraphale mirrored, snootily.

"However—"

However? Crowley's ears perked up. 

"Upstairs has intervened on your behalf."

Crowley looked around at the vast, glowing room.

"Upstairs?" He said. "This is upstairs!"

He was treated to several, hard stares. Aziraphale shuffled a fraction closer.

"They mean God, dear," he muttered.

Oh. Oh.

"Um?" said Crowley.

"Indeed." Saraqael said. "So—"

"God intervened?" It burst out before Crowley could stop it.

"Yes," Saraqael sighed. "Your antics appear to have… amused Them."

Crowley could only blink. "What?"

"So under the circumstances," Michael picked up, "it has been decided that you will be given another chance. A fresh start."

"What?"

"You mean—" Aziraphale stepped forwards. "Return us to our old positions? To Earth?"

He sounded nervous. He didn't want his old position back. To force him - both of them - back into their old roles under the guise of kindness was as cruel a punishment as the burning pit.

"Oh no," Uriel smiled. "Not quite. You've both taken to Humanity so well, you see. So it only seems fitting you return."

Crowley suddenly realised what was happening. "You intend to make us human?"

A collection of dazzling smiles beamed back at him.

"That is God's will, yes."

Human. Really, truly, human. With eating and sleeping and all those fiddly little human things. Illness. Death.

He turned to Aziraphale, who looked a little desperate. 

"We could go back to Soho," Aziraphale said. "Back to the street and the bookshop and—"

"Ah, now—" Michael cut him off. "Not quite."

There was the catch, Crowley thought. How very Divine. 

"Not quite?"

"We can't just send you back," Michael said, as if it were obvious. "That is not how humans work. They don't just become human. They are born human."

"A fresh start," said Crowley. "We can return to Earth, avoid punishment, have lives… but we have to start from scratch. Is that it?"

"Exactly." Saraqael smiled.

"And… and all of this?"

"Will be forgotten, yes."

"And if we refuse?"

The smile did not falter. "Demon Crowley, believe me when I say you do not want to know what will happen to you should you refuse."

"And can we discuss this?"

That infuriating smile. "No."

Crowley spun, grabbing Aziraphale's hands. The gathered angels gasped at the blatant display of human affection; he ignored them.

"I'll find you, Angel." He squeezed Aziraphale's hands."I swear. I'll find you."

Aziraphale didn't look scared. He didn't look on the brink of collapse or like his chest might cave in, like Crowley's did. He looked serene. 

"I know you will."

***

The South Downs. The sky is blue. It's almost always blue, here, apart from on those days where the gardens could really use a spot of rain, and then the heavens open for just long enough to soak the earth good and proper.

The cottage is right at the edge of the village: close enough that it's a short walk to the shop or the pub but far enough away to be private. It has visitors, of course, but they're always welcomed ones. No one ever turns up unannounced. 

They're surprisingly young, the men who own the cottage. They can't be older than 30 yet they act as if they've been married for fifty years. The blond one talks like he stepped out of an Austen novel; the red-head like he's only just learned how fun swearing is.

You see them walking arm in arm quite often, or entertaining guests. An older man visits them fairy regularly, a man you recognise from the telly. He brings a little ratty dog with him. He must have had dozens of little ratty dogs, you think, because you remember your dad telling you about that man and his dog.

In the evenings - which here, are always long and beautiful - a nightingale extracts itself from the woods and sings and sings and sings.

Odd, you think. You were sure you weren't supposed to get nightingales in these parts.

[skepticalarrie]

Larry questions

1. Do you think larry has read fanfics like TTS and y&b. A lot of people say no but to me that is SOOOOO HARRY LIKE. and Louis tries to always act like he’s not deep or meaningful (talking about how the tattoos mean nothing or whateve) but I feel like his real personality? definitely reading fics. Being harry and Louis doesn’t change them from being human. They’re jus like us with experiences and money we won’t be able to comprehend but yea

2. Do you think larry uses this “ship” for promo? Like have you seen things when they’ve been off duty that’s shows larry is real? Or is it always during a fine like promotion, a FITF promotion that they’ll do soemthing larry like. For walls the tattoos as cover pages … yk? Like was that a declaration or promo reasons. and frankly I do not think harry needs to do that anyways 😭 but it gets to me. Obviously what we saw in the band was pure love 100% and afterwards as well. I just sometimes think. Afterwards whether or not people think they’re together, using Larry for promo would be so smart. I know they’ve gotten tatttos and have transcended a different level of love trust and commitment. But …. I jut think. But again I don’t think thoses boys could be in love and then out of love and using their love for promo years after. I don’t know. What do you think?

3. Do you think larry was trying to pull a friendship narrative around July? As far as I know they were both off work (not relaising anything or touring) but they chose to be pictured CLOSE to each other in the same room. I feel like that shows that they wanted to introduce themselves to the public as friends slowly. Before the passing happend ofc. What do you think? Alor of people think they broke up. It would be funny after they broke up they’re like ok let’s start to show them we are friends!!!! I feel like they couldn’t just be friends thoses two. They were always soemthing more.

4. What’s your favourite year of larry? One that’s your favourite to look back at and all that happend that year? Mine is 2015😋

4.5. Your favourite 1D friendship?

5. People are so dumb to excuse Larry when there’s been a constant theme in the songs harry has written that shows he’s been in a long term realrionship. Kacey Musgrave saying Harry Harry larry and then the still the one situation…. The interviewer who said 16 years is a long commitment… so many songs on fine line showing devotion and a strong sense of love that wouldn’t develop that’s quickly (it can but yk)

Do you have a post on larry having the same braincells? Like liking the same artist, being around the same people, having the same values?

And also do you have a thread on Larry friends —- not exposing but yk what Kacey musgrave did. “Exposing larry” do you know what I mean. Larrys friends showing that they’re larries and /or connected?

Lmk ur thoughts you’re very insightful.

Hi, anon! Wow, that's a lot to unpack, so I'll answer everything under the cut to avoid bothering people’s dashboards with a massive post. 😊

1. I think they’re definitely aware of it, but I really don’t believe they read it. Honestly, it would be so strange to see yourself in that kind of context. While we might think something feels “so Harry” or “so Louis,” the reality is that we only know a tiny fraction of their lives. Fics are amazing for us as fans, but if I were in their shoes, I’d feel pretty weirded out by seeing myself portrayed in fictional scenarios through someone else’s perspective hahah so if it were me, I’d avoid it completely and that's I also believe for them.

2. I do think they use Larry for fan service, especially in recent years, as I feel the small signals they give are more about giving something to the fandom/larries than anything deeper and meaningful for them.

But I don’t think it’s entirely accurate to call it “promo.” I think both of them have leaned into this treasure hunt dynamic over the years, using the fandom’s (larries) incredible cryptic-solving skills. I mean, we've been trained for that with the bears. And Louis’ fanbase, which has a higher percentage of Larries, might be more directly impacted by these little hints... maybe in his lyrics or actions, but I don’t think Harry’s promo strategies rely on it at all. His fanbase is massive, and larries are just a small fraction of it. So this kind of signaling doesn’t seem aligned with his career approach.

3. No, I don’t believe in this “friendship narrative” thing at all. It’s just not going to happen.

4. I’m going to say 2015 too, anon! There was so much entertainment hahaha and I loved seeing them together, I miss that dynamic so much.

4.5. Lilo!

5. Completely agree! Harry is so creative with his lyrics, but it’s also incredibly clear how devoted he’s been to this one particular relationship over the years. His songs are full of consistent themes—he keeps revisiting the same emotions and ideas, for sure!

I don’t have super consistent tags for the things that you asked, but here are a few:

SHARING IS CARING

MATCHY MATCHY

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

OUTINGS

EVERYONE KNOWS

Hope this helps! 😊

[sly-s-n0nfusion]

Hello octopathers I woke up in the mood to share opinions online so today it's the time to talk about

💫 Erhardt's War Crimes 💫

as well as explaining why I don't, never did, and will never like him as a character

/!\ Disclaimer: I'm not here to judge anyone who likes Erhardt, truly. I'm 100% okay with liking morally gray characters in fiction (and I do myself, as a fan of characters such as Ogen, Oshka, Kaldena and Ceraphina, which are pretty bad/terrible people as well, some of them are much worse than erhardt lol) so if he's your favorite character and your little sopping wet meow meow, that's great (you're also part of like 98% of the octopath fandom so if someone has to be the weird one here that'd be me lol) so this post is completely judgement-free 🙏 /gen

I just felt the need to address the full extent of his actions in game as some sort of reminder because I feel like the actual consequences of those are often overlooked or straight up not acknowledged, also because we see a lot of that in CoTC and many people who played OT1 did not play that one, and because I have seen quite the number of fans out there being like "Erhardt did nothing wrong" or "I'm an Erhardt apologist" or "regicide ain't that bad" when I think what he did was actually pretty bad and here's why!

TW children death, spoilers for Olberic’s story and CoTC Bestower of All

Okay so we can all agree with the fact that what happened to him was horrible. Man had to watch his hometown (and family, too) perish in a fire while Hornburg did nothing to help and he's been indoctrinated since he was just a child by Werner, who we know as being great at manipulating and inducing fear in people. Like no wonder he wanted revenge.

In Ot1 we only see him killing King Alfred and thus causing the fall of the whole kingdom of Hornburg as stated by Olberic at the beginning of his story, and then his "redemption" speech during Olberic's chapters 3 and 4, and that's pretty much it. We aren't exactly told what happened to the people of Hornburg after that.

Well, Champions of The Continent tells us as the fourth chapter of the Bestower of All storyline is set in Hell, where Hornburg and its ghosts still stand. And I say ghosts because those are all that's left of its population, with the exception of a few other NPCs we encounter in game who were lucky enough to flee in time.

Now the part of map we can walk on is quite big but it’s still a small fraction of the Hornburg capital (as we can see from the huge amount of buildings around the castle) and there are approximately 30+ npcs’ souls wandering around the streets, inside the castle and outside the capital (again, they’re just the ones we’re allowed to see)

(Don’t let this image fool you, he’s dead. All of them are dead, he didn’t make it out alive)

The most tragic part of all of this are obviously the souls of two children that can be found in a house, discussing which one of the Twin Blades is stronger. And honestly this piece of dialogue broke my heart

I’m afraid to inform this poor kid’s soul that Erhardt actually played a major role in the events that caused them to get killed.

And this brings me to the conclusion of this saying that no matter how strong Erhardt’s desire for vengeance was, and how manipulated he was, it still doesn’t excuse what he did. “Regicide ain’t that big of a deal” well no it isn’t, but the consequences of it are. I refuse to believe Erhardt didn’t foresee what would happen to all the inhabitants of Hornburg, children included, after he’d killed king Alfred and gave complete access to Werner’s army. Of course the ones who couldn’t flee in time would get killed. Of course he knew, but that wasn’t enough to make him think about stopping his rage.

He’s not a war criminal because he killed a guy with a crown, he’s a war criminal because he sentenced to death the whole population of a capital city and if we had doubt at first, cotc gives us undeniable proof.

Yes he lives hating himself. Yes he does regret all of it. But he had a choice. And yes, being afraid of Werner hunting him down is a solvable problem when you’re at the apex of one of the biggest kingdoms’ military force, he could’ve asked for help if only he spoke. Causing the death of so many innocent people isn’t going to bring his family and hometown back and he knew it.

That’s why I think what he did was, in no way, excusable.

“Erhardt isn’t a villain” doesn’t stick with my view of things.

Now, on to the personal reasons why I don’t like him in particular as a morally gray character lol

And that can be summed up as “Olberic’s first two chapters made a pretty damn good job at making me hate him”

But no for real it has to do with me valuing trust more than anything else in life and having the habit of self-projecting a lot on every character I play. I tend to ask myself “what would I do in this situation, how would I feel” etc, so it came natural to me to wanting to punt Erhardt into the sun instantly as soon as I saw Olberic (the guy that was my main character in his ch1) literally start his story having nightmares and being depressed because of this guy.

Of course it was instant, deep hatred from me I swear I’ve rarely wanted to kill some guy in a jrpg as much as I wanted to make him pay for what he did (even if I knew well that Olberic’s main goal was just to seek answers).

Now imagine my utter disappointment when the game didn’t let me kill him lol (just kidding, of course after his backstory traumadump I ended up sympathizing a bit with him).

Also no, Olberic never forgave him for what he did, as precisely stated by him in his chapter 3, but he does give him another chance to redeem himself because Olberic is a much better person than I am.

I… have been wanting to write this long post for a while now. I hope I didn’t upset anyone with it as that was not my intention. I get why erhardt has so many fans, with the whole emotional trauma he has and his pretty face and fabulous hair, I really do and I don’t think you’re weird for liking him. I just like to ramble about fictional characters from time to time lol

Peace ✌️