#but they'll be free

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

I really love how even though Robin is messed up in the fog that he still reads as a sympathetic character. Could you tell us what happened to him or why he has issues remembering anything? Does he want to leave the fog?

✧ ━━ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 : 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐀. 𝐁𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

Thank you anon! I wasn't expecting such a sweet message in my inbox, and I would be delighted to delve deeper into the details of Robin's experiences - unfortunately I cannot spoil the lore I just finished ( it'll be posted soon! ) I'm glad however that despite all of his habits and uncomfortable mannerisms, that he still reads as a sad figure moreso than a purely terrifying one. He's lost a lot in life, and I want that to always be present; he will never be without his grief. No matter how much he tries to get rid of it. I can definitely go over the basics and explain his feelings towards Fog! Frankly that is long enough on its own since, despite the worlds that leave his mouth, Robin's feelings towards the Fog are pretty complicated and a bit all over the place.

A good chunk of this is because Robin truly, to his deepest core, does not remember what the world was like when he was in it. He cannot remember what food tastes like, what rain sounds like, and a lot of the things most people take for granted just don't exist in his mind anymore. Music, singing, the sweet smell of flowers in spring and the tweeting of birds nestling in the hazel thicket ... its all gone. That being said, he is very aware of the "lost" bit of him, and tries to hide his concern for the growing holes in his memory - but it really isn't working. It's part of the reason he instinctually is always seen wandering about the fields and forests, part of him still primally yearns for all of those things; but he's lost the words or reasonings to really explain it. If he did it would be like trying to describe the tones of a color that doesn't exist. I think he might honestly cry if he reintroduced to music or had someone show him that the organ in his church can actually play still!

Fun Fact: Robin never got to see the ocean, but he always wanted to.

He's been stuck in the Fog for over 150 years and each day that ticks on takes more out of him, and its forcing him to conform ever more to what the Entity wishes for him to be. The problem with that is given Robin is an actual human being, he can't be an unconscious tool for her use - but She can at least peel and strip away the parts that make him less than cooperative. The Entity gained that ownership of him once it resurrected him from his boggy death and forced him into the scorching light of the sun where every part of him that could not serve Her was burnt away to ash and blown off with the winter wind. Then he did what earned his entrance into the Fog.

But that's a tale for another day.

Within his lore, those tiny joys through nature were one of the only ways he could find any sort of solace as he had a relatively difficult life, granted it wasn't without its pure arresting moments of wonder ━ but a lot of it was riddled with grief and tragedy due to his bloodline. For this explanation I'll be focusing on the subject as its seen within Europe and more specifically the UK as that is where Robin is from, however there are other mentions of it within histories around the globe from various cultures. You see eating sins was an actual occupation, and a very much hated one at that; but it was a necessary evil in the eyes of many even if the church did not approve - and was practiced within the multitude of rural communities within the UK from the late 16th century to the earliest years of the 20th century.

I won't go into too much detail regarding the profession, but in short they were summoned into town when a death occurred. For anyone who had died without confessing their sins, a sin-eater would take on the sins of the deceased by eating a loaf of bread ususally placed on the corpse's breast overnight and drinking ale out of a wooden bowl passed over the coffin/body ━ practices varied throughout different communities but you understand the idea.

Abhorred by the superstitious villagers as a thing unclean, the sin-eater cut himself off from all social intercourse with his fellow creatures by reason of the life he had chosen; he lived as a rule in a remote place by himself, and those who chanced to meet him avoided him as they would a leper. This unfortunate was held to be the associate of evil spirits, and given to witchcraft, incantations and unholy practices; only when a death took place did they seek him out, and when his purpose was accomplished they burned the wooden bowl and platter from which he had eaten the food handed across, or placed on the corpse for his consumption. ( Funeral Customs by Bertram S. Puckle ; 1926 )

With the Entity taking away the comforting moments of his time alive; what does he really have to gain by trying to get away from the Fog? All he knows for certain is that the world he came from was cruel and he feels it is undeserving of any mercy that could be granted to it; how could he when all he remembers is the suffering he went through? He's deep in Her manipulations and genuinely believes the Entity is God coming to bring about the Fourth Seal and he's been chosen to participate. It's the only way his brain can make sense of anything that's happening to him, and he's really let it take complete hold of him. Any sort of compassion or sympathy or humanly bond is too late in its arrival, he is lost and he can never go home, both in the material world and in the plane of his mind. Or at least that is what he believes, but humans often overestimate their capabilities and their eagerness to be alone, and in comes a rather unexpected problem to his "I'll simply fade away into nothing and become what God needs me to be, and that is my purpose in this life" outlook.

In steps the biggest wrench in his plans.

No no, it is unfortunate for Robin but @mxlevolence is clinging to his blood soaked hand while he hangs over the edge of his doom ━ urging him to not let go, and for some reason Robin is listening to them. Their relationship is pretty complicated but GF so intensely affects Robin's view of the Fog that it's impossible for me to not talk about it. Vicious at one point mentioned that "poems cannot even begin to describe their relationship" and I think that still stands true. Especially for Robin, who struggles to really understand what friendship and love are because he is relearning what those emotions mean and what it's like to not be completely alone. They've found a kindred nature within eachother, and few and between are the days that these two don't interact, even if its just one of them approaching the other like "and another thing!"

━ And Robin hates it.

Well, more specifically Robin's human brain is really satisfied and happy by the social interaction its getting, and he is genuinely enjoying the time he has with Ghostface as well. That said he knows he isn't supposed to, and it is wrecking his viewpoint; what was once so clear of a destiny for him now seems blurrier and blurrier the more the Grave Walker opens their mouth. He gets the concept. He does! But ... The sadder angle of the entire thing is how easy it would be for Robin to just grab onto the bond that he's made and find strength within it, he is so close to being pulled back from the end of himself, but he's terrified of the consequences that might not even exist.

There is also the very high possibility that somewhere deep within Robin he does feel an immeasureable weight for the acts he's committed, and that maybe he doesn't think he deserves to be saved or the kindness that comes along with it. And maybe he's right. Robin has done atrocious things in the name of his God, and has shown basically no remorse about them; but that's the thing about love and mercy; it cares little for how worthy someone is of it. Whether or not Robin feels remorse for his actions seems to mean little to GF so long as they get to be free together, it doesn't matter what he did. All that matters is who he is, and who he shouldn't let go of.

Vicious kind of broke my brain when they referenced beloved Tolkien and I haven't been able to get the thought or the comparisons out of my head???? help???

There is something very curious about these two accidentally finding the humanity in each other that they're both desperately trying to erase from themselves ━ yet they're both like "NO NO NO" at the other doing it. How ironic that in order to save someone in the same situation as yourself that you have to take your own advice. Becoming a human being and accepting the weaknesses that comes along with it all to save a singular person is like ... idk man a massive fucking deal when you're talking about these two. It's almost desperate in a way. SO desperate in fact that Robin has found himself being a bit more honest and genuine then a Devil should be, and Danny has peeled off the Ghostface mask; things that they absolutely do not want to ever do. And yet! It's happening, and seemingly getting worse every thread.

I always find it really funny because Vicious and I were like "you ok if they die" "yes" "cool" and then we just let these two take the reins of the threads and tbh its been such a cool experience seeing them just ... exist and thrive! Well, ok maybe thrive isn't the right word, but steer the wriring? I suppose.

And there is the acknowledgement from Robin as well about his predicament, he knows whats happening to him, and what will. However at this rate, he's been so beaten down and sanded away that there's little left in him that can cling to any notion of hope, and instead clings to the glory of duty. It is an honor to serve such a reverent God etc etc. The delusion is very strong and Robin is happy to cling to it just as hard. Fate is unavoidable. They are to be given over to the jaws of fate one way or another, and he'd prefer the easier descent into the Entity's maw ━ and he wants that for Ghostface too. It would be a mercy compared to what could unfold if the Entity should grow to dislike them, and he does not want to face those possibilities.

Ahhh but you see, the cyclical issue of then "is he wanting Ghostface to just obey so his own horrors will be easier or is he worried about what the Entity will do to his dear friend should they continue to agitate it?"

From a narrative standpoint its relatively easy to see what part of that he thinks is true, and which is actually true. Robin will always be a man no matter what the Entity does to him or what he tells himself to be or what his village told him he was. And it is a very frightening experience to have that tossed back in his face and to reminded of how small he actually is within the grand scheme of things. His pain doesn't equal to any sort of cosmic destiny and the suffering he experienced was just the cruel indifference of the universe. It gets ever more unpleasant with the understanding that if Robin does remember what it was to be alive he will be standing face to face with the terrifying reality he's put himself in. Worse still is he's now being forced to confront it all because someone in this cold life cares enough for him to try and save him ... because as much as he will deny it and bite back, he wants to save them too.

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

If you watch the interview, you'll know that the girl here and another one sat in their tank and shelled kibbutz for 17 hours straight, and yet they're being hailed as heroes.

From the beginning, we knew Israeli forces were firing at their own people. We knew that Hamas doesn't have the weaponry to result the destruction we've seen. But since nobody believed, now the truth keeps unfolding about Oct 7.

Watch the interview with Yasmin Porat who was at one of the kibbutz's. She said Hamas treated them humanely, she said they were scared but they [hamas] didn't abuse them. The interviewer was taken aback. The interviewer asks if "terrorists" killed all the bodies lying in the ground but she said: "NO, it was UNDOUBTEDLY our forces." Her exact words. Google her name and listen to the interview.

[divinit3a]

oh i should draw sun too-

nvm.

[emptygoldstudio]

[3] Losing team 🥈

Prompt source for October

[hinamie]

fire nation festival wear aka a blatant excuse for me to push atla clothing design conventions to the absolute Limit

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[stinglesswasp]

Fanart of all that's said in the low light by headlocket

This fic will make you cry the most cathartic tears ever. Be sure to also check out the epilogue, in lieu of the bells 🥹🧡🧡

[violottie]

🇵🇸 please watch and remember this 🇵🇸

"PERSPECTIVE: In a world where some can close their eyes to suffering, others are forced to endure it without respite. Let’s remember our privilege to switch off, and consider the lives that can’t.”

by meeks_animates, 14/Apr/2024:

[screensandtangledwires]

my beloved , 4-channel tektronix TDS2014C digital storage oscilloscope

[yashley]

Did she keep you trapped?

[neurolady]

Just read a post an op shared about Crowley’s confession being ruined/rushed and not at all what he intended. And it suddenly dawned on me....

Aziraphale's confession got blocked by Hell

Shax and her gaggle of demon's interrupting the Ball!

Crowley's confession got blocked by Heaven

The Metatron and his coffee based manipulations

[phantom-0-writer]

prompt 01: gotham academy's mentorship program

“Mr. Wayne, thank you so much for finding the time to meet with me.” Principal Carson, someone Bruce, became more and more familiar with as the years passed, welcomed him into his office. 

“I hope my children aren’t causing you too much trouble, Mr. Carson.” Bruce chuckled lightly, sitting in the guest seat. 

“After your generous donations to the school, I would find that difficult to believe.” Mr. Carson laughed conversationally, before getting right to business. “Actually, the reason I wanted to meet with you in person rather than over the phone despite, I’m sure, your busy schedule was to discuss Damian.” 

Damian had come to the Manor about a year and a half ago, and had been attending Gotham Academy for almost 9 months. Bruce had hoped that going to school with other kids his age would help Damian become more sociable and learn about larger society outside of the Bat, Birds, and League, but that was proving to be difficult considering the almost regular calls Alfred received from the school about Damian’s behavior or actions. 

Bruce couldn’t help the weary sigh that escaped him, “I assure you Principal Carson, we-” 

“I think you're misunderstanding, Mr. Wayne. Damian is not in any kind of trouble.” Mr. Carson reassured, “Well, for now that is.” He chuckled dryly. 

“Ah.” Bruce nodded, letting his airhead persona take the lead, while still showing that he was paying careful attention. 

“In the last few years, Gotham Academy started a mentorship program, where the younger kids usually between the grades of 5-8 can get mentored by their seniors. Damian is a brilliant child, concerningly so I believe. His peers often can’t keep up with him in terms of academics, but he lags far behind them in social skills. I think Damian would benefit from the mentorship program, where he can have someone who can truly keep up with him intellectually as well as guide him socially.” Mr. Carson explained. 

Bruce considered this, letting the idea turn over in his mind. Perhaps this is what Damian would need. “You sound like you have someone in mind.” 

“I believe the best candidate for the job would be Daniel Fenton.” Mr. Carson handed him the student profile. “He’s here on a Wayne Scholarship, which he’s held for the past year. Mr. Fenton is currently in the 11th grade, his chosen career path is astrophysics, which he plans to pursue into college. His grades are outstanding despite his difficult classes, and his professors all share the same sentiment that Mr. Fenton holds one of the greatest minds in the Academy. He shares many of the same classes with Tim as well. He has a friendly personality and gets along well with most people, pretty athletically inclined as well. All around Mr. Fenton is what Gotham Academy hopes our student to be.” 

Bruce looked over the profile in his hand. Daniel James Fenton seemed like an outstanding student. Perhaps it was time to put him to the test with Damian Wayne. 

---

When Danny had been called to the office, because apparently they had assigned him a mentee, he had been expecting the worst. All the scholarship students had to sign up for the mentorship program to be on standby if a mentee ever applied. All the other scholarship kids had said it was just a formality and that none of them ever got called for it. But classic Fenton Luck. 

When Danny walked into Principal Carson’s office he was prepared to be faces with some snot-nosed brat who wouldn’t know how to take no for an answer and didn’t care about classes because they would just inherit their parents big shot company was what he was expecting. 

So imagine his surprise when he walks into a room to a liminal kid, probably around 12, who looks like he wants to be there as much as Danny does. Danny takes one look at the kid who’s trying to project himself as angry and menacing, but Danny could easily read the kid's true emotions of nervous-scared-anxious thanks to their shared less-alive-than-one-would-expect status. 

“Daniel, welcome. This is Damian Wayne. He’ll be your new mentee from now on.” Mr. Carson smiled kindly, gesturing for Danny to sit down. The liminal kid - Damian - scowled at him, projecting irritation. But all Danny could feel off of him was nervousness.

Danny was screwed, wasn’t he?

--------

table of contents

[wildernessuntothemselves]

My family is dead. They’ve been bombed. 1 uncle, 2 aunts, five or more of their children, one of them newly graduated and newly wed with her baby. She was visting her mother. Her previous house had been bombed. Death followed her.

My uncle wanted to bring his family to visit Egypt. They were looking at places to rent. But for some reason or another it didn't go through. I will never again play a game of Remy with him. He will never tease me for being quiet. His daughter whose dream was to live in Egypt now lay torn to shreds.

Such a simple dream. Egypt? The country I escaped? That was salvation to them. Days before he died my uncle was asking my mother to put his family's names on the list to pass the border into Egypt. But they're not letting Palestinians pass, only foreigns.

Three of my family survived. They watched their parents, their sisters, torn to shreds. They can't even identify the bodies. One only recognized his sister by her Abbaya.

And none of it matters. Nothing will change. Israel will still win because at the end of the day it's not about humanity or loss of life or justice. It's all about money and power and Israel has all and Palestine has none.

The dead will be forgotten by the world and nothing will change.

[a-little-bit-of-tradition]

Goodbye Jay Halstead & Hailey Upton ❤️

[cherrirui-official]

Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 1/7)

Since the edited episodes are starting to come out, I figured that bc of that and the fact that I've been keeping this in the back burner for a loooong while now, might as well complete all my friendlocke violet gijinkas!! Some are gonna stay the same while others are gonna have slight/ complete redesigns, so please keep that in mind!

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there's gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I'll be linking here when done vvv

(Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) !!

@saltydkart-reblogs

And that's pretty much it, designs under the cut!

LARK:

HUGE nerd. spent most of his time during the Uva Academy studying different kinds of pokemon as well as different fighting styles he can utilize once he is able to go out on his own journey with his very own trainer! Too bad that didn't really help in the long run...

His entire wardrobe consists of McDonald's related outfits. It's fucking insane. He even has some from long LONG ago that aren't available anywhere else.

The bubble pattern on his hair is able to move and change. Nobody knows how this is possible, not even Lark himself. All Lark knows is that his hair looks incredibly stylish!

Speaking of bubbles, he has the ability to blow bubbles whenever and wherever he pleases!

Often keeps himself extremely clean and gets upset if even a small speck of dirt gets on him, despite this he somehow smells like McDonald's food and axe body spray. Disgusting. He's so cool!

Even after death he still likes to hang around the other team members as a ghost, often getting to know the newer members as well as reuniting with the old ones. Sometimes they see him, sometimes they don't. It usually depends.

SARA:

Due to being a human in her past life, Sara is able to actually speak with the other humans in the pokemon world. However she usually doesn't due to it being seen as extremely weird and out of place. She did slip up once while talking in the presence of Arven, who thought it was the weed making him hear things.

Oinkologne are usually unable to do much with their hooves but Sara spent nights practicing how to knit with her new hooves and now she's able to do it flawlessly. I don't know how she managed to do that but go queen!

When first joining the team she'd often have the urge to eat her food related companions. It was a strange time for Sara, but she managed to overcome it.

When Peppy gets sick, she usually is the one who nurses him back to health. She was a human once so she often is able to figure out whatever sickness Peppy has and treat it properly. I suppose she's like a second mother to him.

The bag she carries with her is full of thread that she collected from various Tarountula she encountered on the journey, as well as little things she knits together in her spare time.

For the most part, Sara forgives... but NEVER forgets.

Did you guys know that Sara has a new YouTube channel? Check it out!

Pastey:

Before joining the team, Pastey was a nameless wanderer. He's been down every road in Paldea and knows almost the entire region (except for Area Zero) like the back of his hand.

He's gotten hurt pretty badly throughout the run (ie. the Mikey fight, the Atticus fight, and ESPECIALLY the final battle), however, he does not gain any (physical) scars from those fights. This is bc he's basically an axolotl, and axolotls are usually able to heal without scarring.

Pastey's "arms" are, to put it simply, mud prosthetics. More info here vvv

Pastey HAS met Mall Bingo once before the run, however, he doesn't recognize her. The only reason he does not recognize her is bc she wears glasses. (You know how people somehow aren't able to recognize Superman bc he wears glasses in his civilian attire even tho his face remains the same? It's basically like that lmao)

Unlike the lightbulbs he eats, the gasoline he drinks isn't really mandatory to his diet. Gasoline is like alcohol to him and he drinks it like an absolute CHAMP.

He goes fishing when there's nothing else to do or when he can't sleep at night. He doesn't do this bc he thinks it's fun or anything, only bc it's a "good time passer" or so he claims. Other members of the team will often sit with him and vent out anything that's troubling them at the moment, and Pastey is always there to listen to them.

And that's pretty much it. Next is Joe, Hannah Ü, and Mykyie!

[artzybumpkin]

I Need Your Help...

CW/ mpreg, language, slight angst (people saying harsh things to/about each other that they don’t really mean because they’re hurt and are stupid dumb idiots that are bad at communicating🥺💔)

Pt. 2

"Here we go," F0rd finally said after sifting through one of the cupboards in the small kitchen and pulling out a can. He chucked it St@n's way, the latter reflexively catching it like he'd been tossed a baseball. "I could warm it up if you'd rather, but it'll take the stove a bit to heat up."

St@nley turned the can in his fingers as he studied the label. Baron NumNums High Flyin’ Pork 'n Beans. 'Not exactly kosher, S1xer,' he almost joked aloud, but kept his mouth shut. It's not something that mattered to himself, anyway. Not anymore.

"Nah, it's fine like it is." he assured as he pulled out a pocket knife. He could practically feel the curious look his brother was giving him as he dug the blade into the lid of the can, making quick work of popping it open and eagerly dipping the spoon he'd been given into it's contents.

Though he wouldn't outright admit it... he was absolutely FAMISHED. So much so he basically shuddered in delight at the mere taste as he popped the first bite into his mouth. 'Finally, something NOT terrible for once!' he thought euphorically. It was by no means a spectacular meal, but to an empty stomach it was manna from heaven.

As he slowly came down from his dopamine high, he noticed F0rd still fumbling through the other cabinets like he had a bad case of tunnel vision. As he studied him, it was only now that St@nley got the chance to really see the scrawny and disheveled state his brother was in. How sluggish his movements were. How pale and gaunt his face was. And his hands… What was the cause for how beaten up they were?... The man looked like he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks.

‘That’s… not a good sign..,’ St@nley thought, the already existing concern amplified tenfold the longer he looked at him. He cleared his throat awkwardly in an attempt to get his attention. "Hey, uh... why dontcha sit down with me, eh? Get some food in ya? Tell me what's goin' on? I don't mean to be so frank but... You look like hell, Stanf0rd."

"Ah... later," he mused, still distracted by whatever he was searching for. In the midst of his search, his fingers grazed the forming bruise on the left side of his jaw. He opened and closed his mouth experimentally, feeling out the source of a dull yet stubborn pang in his mouth. "I think you broke one of my molars."

"… Right... yeah," St@n chuckled dryly, "uh... sorry 'bout that, by the way..."

"Besides, you're one to talk," he barked, glazing right over St@n's curt apology, "You're not exactly a sight to behold yourself, you know. AND you've currently got a stowaway to worry about." He closed the cupboard door and turned to go to the next room. "Stay here, I'll be back."

St@nley rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that day. "Bettin' on it…" As soon as F0rd disappeared around the corner, he shot a look to the far end of the table, where the journal lay, and scowled. There were still so many questions he had yet to be answered. He just had to figure out how to get his brother to talk.

For a few minutes F0rd could faintly be heard rummaging through a few drawers, all the while muttering a short 'Now where is the damn thing?..,’ and ‘I swear it was here last time..,’ before he finally let out a mildly triumphant 'Aha!'

When he returned to the kitchen, he'd brought with him a small, worn briefcase (what was, upon setting it onto the table and flipping it open, revealed to be a decently stocked yet obviously thrown-together first aid kit). "Okay, pull up your shirt. Let me see your shoulder."

Letting out a small exasperated breath, St@n carefully (being VERY mindful of how he moved his sore shoulder) wriggled out of his jacket and pulled the back of his shirt up over his shoulders, bunching it up around his neck.

F0rd went to wash his hands, then stepped around and behind his brother to better assess the damage. He winced empathetically as he looked it over.

The burn took up the entirety of his shoulder blade, nearly touching the center of his back. It had to be at least 2nd if not 3rd degree, as the skin was already starting to tighten around the edges of the mark that was left... angry… inflamed... Even worse, though, was the unconventional shape of what was most definitely going to become a scar later.

And yet another reminder of how far they'd grown apart...

His brother had basically been branded with an alchemic sigil.

Because of him, there was now a permanent reminder of their earlier fight...

"How bad is it?" St@n's question rang, pulling F0rd from his thoughts.

"Hmm... well... it's, uh..."

"Gonna leave a mark?"

"No doubt about it." He took a moment to grab a washcloth and soaked one of it's corners in soapy water. "I'm gonna have to clean it so it doesn't get infected. It's not gonna feel great, but just-"

"Save the explanation, brainiac," St@n interrupted, mouth full from the latest spoonful of beans. "I’ve been through this song and dance before. Do what you have to, I can deal. Just hurry it up, would ya? It's cold in here."

Now it was F0rd's turn to roll his eyes. And despite himself, a slight smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. 'As brawny and bullheaded as ever, St@nley..,’ he thought amusedly as he began lightly dabbing at the wound. He’d reached the center of the mark where the burn was at its worst when the small sound of his brother hissing through his teeth made him pause. "St@n..?"

"It's fine... don't sweat it..."

Guilt ate at him, at the prospect of causing his brother any more physical pain than he had already, but he continued cleaning as gently as he could. It simply had to be done.

Once he was satisfied he'd properly disinfected the area, F0rd reached back into the kit, pulled out the bacitracin, and applied it generously to the surface of the burn before topping it off with a sterile pad. It was a very basic mend, he figured, but it would have to do. It was only as he continued working that he realized they'd suddenly fallen quiet again. And while the silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, there was still a level of tension that couldn’t be entirely ignored.

As he went to unroll a bundle of gauze, his eyes unintentionally bounced towards St@nley's belly. Judging by the sheer size of it, as it occupied most of the space in his lap, it was obvious he had to be nearing full term... a thought that greatly unsettled his nerves the more he lingered on it… Nevertheless, he decided to pry.

"So, um... When did you find out?"

"’Find out?’"

"About your... situation." he clumsily clarified while he wrapped the gauze around St@n’s shoulder and across his back and chest.

St@nley made a small sound of acknowledgement, drumming his fingers on the surface of the table as he carefully decided his wording. After a moment of thought, a deep sigh dragged itself from his chest. He set his now empty can down and then cradled his chin with his palm as he leaned onto the table on his elbow. "I think... about the first week of September."

“OH…” Only 4 months ago?? “Oh wow, so you were already a ways along then…”

“Yup. I'd been feeling... y’know... off for a while before that, but I just figured I’d caught some crazy flu bug or something during a, uh..,” St@n hesitated, reevaluating, “… freelance job. Was sick as shit for WEEKS. I couldn't keep anything down, didn't have the energy to even keep myself upright...” He grimaced. “God, it was awful, Ford… I swore I felt like I could’ve keeled over at the drop of a hat… And then when I finally, FINALLY thought I'd gotten past it, I started feeling... weird."

F0rd tore off a couple strips of medical tape to secure the wrapping. "Weird?..," he repeated.

"Well... it was hard to place the words at the time, but the best way I could describe it was that it kinda felt like my insides were rearranging themselves. It spooked me enough to seek out a back alley physician, anyway.”

It took everything in him for F0rd to hold his tongue at that revelation, but he stayed silent as his brother explained.

“Didn't have high hopes for an accurate diagnosis, but... Well, how hard would a basic check up be?? Worst case scenario I either got an answer or I didn’t. Not to mention he was dirt cheap. Beggars can't be choosers…” He made an ironically amused sound, “So imagine my surprise when the doc told me I was roughly 18 weeks..."

“I… imagine that news wasn’t exactly anticipated…”

St@nley shook his head lightly. "Needless to say, I called the guy a quack and left. I didn’t want to believe it at first... I couldn’t… Hell, it’s not like I even showed that much. I mean, I’ve always had some heft to my person, so a little extra gut didn’t make me question anything… But considering everything that lead up to then… it all sorta lined up... Then wouldn't ya know it, a handful of positive corner store pregnancy tests later… turned out the fucker was right."

F0rd finished checking over the bandaging before finally pulling out a chair to sit across from his brother, folding his arms over the table (atop the journal, St@nley noted, still somewhat guarded in manner). His eyes, though exhausted and bothered, remained inquisitive. “So, then… that sensation you were talking about?.. Was that..?”

"Oh… yeah,” St@n lightly chuckled, giving the side of his belly a gentle pat, “that was just junior here figuring out they have legs… and they have NOT let me forget it, either." The small smile on his face faltered. "But, uh... yeah… I've been trying to keep track of the weeks ever since..."

F0rd hummed his acknowledgement, nodding lightly as he processed the information he'd just been given. Then another question, though it was more of an observation in the form of a question. "You've been going about this alone, haven’t you?…"

St@nley lulled his head to the side, his tired expression wordlessly yet clearly asking, 'What's it look like, genius?..’

He pointedly left it at that. Then F0rd’s face fell as another revelation came to mind. "Wait.... You've not been to a doctor SINCE?? It's January, St@nley! That means..." He paused, brows furrowing as he only now took the time to do the math. "Oh my God, you're-"

“‘About to pop,’" St@n finished as he pulled his shirt back down over his torso (a task easier said than done). "Yes, I'm WELL aware of that notion, poindexter. Glad we’re clear on that."

“But what if something happened? What if something went wrong?? You could’ve been seriously hurt, you knucklehead!” F0rd scolded, gesturing vaguely in his brother’s direction. “Or WORSE!!”

"Don’t you think I KNOW that??!" St@n sighed, trying to reign in the sudden burst of frustration. "Look, I... I've not exactly had the luxury of having prenatal care at my disposal, alright?.. I went to a friggin' doc in a box ONE other time for anemia and it took about every penny I had to my name. Believe me, had the option been available to me, I would've made a point to go in a heartbeat… but if I expected to make ends meet on a day to day basis..,” he hung his head lower, eyeing the floor, “… there was just no way..."

F0rd let out a tense breath. "I'm just saying... It's not a good idea to let a pregnancy go unchecked for so long. And then coming all the way out here was dangerous... Who knows who or what you could've run into on the way??"

"Eh... it's arguably safer than where I was before... In fact, if I'm being completely honest, this trip might've just saved my life..." he admitted, his free hand absentmindedly cradling the underside of his belly, "or at least bought me some time..."

"What's that supposed to mean??"

St@n debated over whether or not he should open that can of worms... so he decided he'd keep it brief. "Let's just say I was half expecting to get my head caved in any day now, had I decided to stick around Dead End..." He cast a glance that suggested the subject be dropped.

F0rd's eyes briefly widened in unease. He then pressed them shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Dear God, St@nley..," he sighed. He didn’t even have it in him right then to ask for any further elaboration.

The room was quiet during their intermission, as they gave themselves time to debrief.

Then, allowing himself an intentionally long, drawn out breath, St@nley leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright, your turn."

"Hm?" F0rd looked back up warily.

"I gave you my sob story, let's hear yours!"

"'Sob story?'” his tone took an air of offense to it, “I’ll have you know this is a very serious matter!"

“So I've heard…”

F0rd scowled at the blatant sarcasm. “I mean it, St@nley! This is something so much bigger than you or I! It could mean the end of effectively everything as we know it!”

"Okay then, ENLIGHTEN me! It's what I've been trying to get you to do this whole friggin’ time! Just tell me what’s going on, without all the cryptic bullshit! Why did you need me to come here just to send me away again, Stanf0rd?" He quickly reached for and snatched the journal out from under his brother's arms, waving it carelessly in front of him. "And what's so damn important about this book that you need it gone but not destroyed?? If it's SO dangerous, why not just shred the thing??" He punctuated his short tangent by dropping the leatherback loudly in the center of the table, the booming sound making his brother flinch.

"I already told you!" F0rd said as he picked it back up with both hands, "The information recorded in these journals is much too valuable to destroy. However, to ensure it stays out of the wrong hands, it must be taken away from here... it could be disastrous if that happens... And the only other person that I could have entrusted to take it flat out refuses to speak to me!..," his gaze landed on the journal he held, his reflection stared back from the emblem in the center. "... You were my last resort... The last hope I have of ever fixing the mess I've caused..." He looked back up to his brother. "And that's why it's of the utmost importance to take this thing FAR away from here as SOON as humanly possible!"

"Mm-hm..." St@n ran his hands along the length of his face. “Yeah, see, I just don’t understand what good squirreling this thing away in some hole on the other side of the planet is gonna do. 'Bury it where no one can find it??' I could just chuck this thing over a mountainside in the Rockies and it'd be dealt with!" He readjusted himself in his seat, straightening up. "But more importantly, what I'd like to know is who these 'wrong hands' are referring to. The mob? The government?? Are you saying someone's got a hit on you??"

Stanf0rd groaned, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "You don't get it, St@nley..."

‘When do I ever?..,’ he thought bitterly, his patience growing ever thinner the longer he prodded. He swore he could get more answers out of a goddamn brick wall.

"It HAS to be taken far enough away that it can't be stumbled upon by just any passersby. And if I were to go hide it myself, I'd be wasting valuable time that I need to prepare for what's coming! I have to make it out to the ruins before the snowfall covers the only entrance to the caves! And if I don't go IMMEDIATELY, there might not be another chance to do anything before..,” might as well not beat around the bush any longer, “he brings forth complete and utter chaos!"

At that, there was a beat… then St@nley made a tired noise, rubbing his temples. “Okay… alright… cool…” His head was beginning to hurt now. "Juuuust leave it to ol' S1xer to make the explanation confusing-"

“Do NOT call me by that name!!” came a sudden, visceral interjection, making St@n nearly jump out of his skin.

All the energy in the room came to a screeching halt.

Breathing heavily for a minute, and seeing the startled confusion etched into his brother’s face, F0rd realized he'd lashed out and visibly shrunk in his seat. "I... sorry, it's not... that wasn’t… y-you didn't know, I... Gosh, I'm sorry..." he babbled, avoiding eye contact, "I don't know what came over me..." The shame he felt was unbearable… To think he let himself get so worked up over something so silly as a nickname… all because of-…

It was only when the sound of his brother gently rapping on the table, to get his attention, registered that he dared look back up to face him.

As he leaned forward on the table, arms folded tightly underneath him, St@nley's demeanor had shifted… no trace of sarcasm left to be seen. "Who did this to you, F0rd?..." There was an intensity in his voice that was equal parts steadying and intimidating, his eyes meeting his brother's and locking. Though it obviously wasn't directed at himself, F0rd could swear there was a murderous glint in that gaze... “Who's threatening you?... Who scared you so badly that you're taking these drastic measures??..."

"I..." F0rd suddenly felt so transparent, like he was being read like a book… Somehow St@nley had managed to just about hit the nail on the head… He covered his face, beginning to feel overwhelmed. There was so much he wanted to explain in full... but could he without endangering either his brother or himself?? Or rather, could he explain himself without sounding like a total madman??

“Who used that name and tarnished it, Stanf0rd??…”

“I-I..,” he stuttered, breaking, "I can't... Th-There's simply no way for me to explain everything for you to understand!"

"Then HELP me to understand!” St@nley pleaded, at his wits’ end. It hurt him so badly to see his brother so utterly tormented with no way for him to get through to or comfort him. He HAD to get through to him… somehow! “HELP me! I’m really, really, REALLY tryin’ here, F0rd, but you're not giving me anything to work off of! I sound like a fucking broken record saying this shit! I care about you, you dumbass, I’m your BROTHER! So you can't keep leaving me in the dark! You have to trust me! Please just trust me, Stanf0rd!"

Trust me...

Those two little words that he’d heard time and time again… those two words that, to him, had lost every ounce of sincerity due to the sheer amount they’d been used and squandered by so very many people in his life… Hearing those two words suddenly agitated F0rd to no end.

He looked his brother in the face and scoffed, "OH, no! NO!! YOU, of all people, don't get to go preaching to ME about TRUST, Mr. 'Buy my products, they won't do you wrong! I'm just your humble, neighborhood salesman who ISN’T a shyster whatsoever! Did I tell you to buy my products yet??’”

The deer-in-the-headlights look St@n gave him only managed to light a fire under him as he desperately took the chance to redirect the attention away from himself.

"Yeah, that’s right, St@nley! Or should I refer to you by one of your ridiculous aliases like 'P@nley St1ne's??' … 'P@NLEY,' St@nley?! You couldn't come up with anything better than that?!" He shook his head, getting sidetracked, "My point is, I've seen what you've been up to over the years! In fact there's been no way to avoid seeing it! I've seen the ads in the papers! The commercials! The... 'products,' if you could even call them that! I've SEEN how you've scammed people! How you’ve LIED to people! Hell, if I didn't just see your bare belly l'd have half a mind to assume you stuffed a damn pillow up your shirt in a shoddy attempt to fool me!"

St@nley stared at him in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. The rest of what his brother said hurt well enough, but that last part?? "What in the-... Where on EARTH did you get that idea, Stanf0rd?? Do you you realize how completely DEMEANING that accusation is?? What could I possibly hope to gain?? Faking THIS??" he exclaimed, aggressively gesturing to himself with his hands bracketing his burgeoning middle.

"I don't know, SYMPATHY?? Some twisted method of MANIPULATION?? Seems like something a con-man such as yourself wouldn't think twice about exploiting!"

St@n reeled back as though he'd been struck. That one got him. "... Is that really what you think of me??..,” came an uncharacteristically quiet tone, "Do you really think I'd try and pull a fast one on you in your time of need??..."

As much as he hated himself for it, as much as F0rd KNEW he shouldn’t say it, the instinctive desire to get the last word in overruled whatever rational response he should have spouted… and a venomous response slipped out before he could stop himself. “... Frankly, I wouldn't put it past you..."

St@nley stared down at the floor for several moments, processing everything that had just been laid out before him. To think his own brother thought so little of him... Sure, what he'd said was vaguely in line with the truth, regarding his grifting record. Conning strangers for his own benefit was one thing, albeit not a great thing and certainly not something he was proud of, but it was something he simply had to resort to to make ANY kind of basic living… To trick his family though?... his own BROTHER?? To suggest he'd even go so far as to fake a pregnancy of all things just to tug at his heartstrings... that was a low even he didn't think he could bring himself to sink to.

In that moment, it was made clear to him; After everything he suffered for, everything he tried in vain to atone for, and after over a DECADE of radio silence... his brother still held to that idea that he was this selfish, deceitful, untrustworthy monster...

The regret was immediate as soon as the words left Stanf0rd’s lips. Why’d he have to go and say that? With stakes as high as they were, for more reasons than one, stirring the pot was the last thing he needed to do and yet… "I... St@nley, I... I-I didn't mean-…"

After a minute of brooding, St@n scooped his jacket off the floor, snaking his arms back through it's sleeves as he finally stood up from his chair. "Y'know what? That's it. I don’t care anymore. I'm done."

“'Done??' What do you mean 'DONE??'” His eyes keenly followed him as he passed by. "St@nley, where are you going?"

"What’s it to you? It’s not like you actually wanted me here. After all, I was your last resort, right?” his voice was monotone as he made his way to the front door… empty… hurt… “As always, Stanf0rd Filbr1ck P1nes, you were right. I shouldn’t ‘ve come… I shouldn’t ‘ve bothered…”

Stanf0rd immediately got up and grasped the fabric of St@n’s sleeve, holding him in place. “Now hang on a minute, would you please just listen to me for a second??”

Try as he had to keep the rage bottled up, that was the last straw. “Yeah, sure... Or how 'bout this?” Smacking the hand off his jacket sleeve, St@nley turned on his heel, scornfully wagging his pointer finger in his brother's face, prompting the latter to back up a step. “You listen here, and you listen GOOD, smartass! I don't need you lecturing me, REMINDING me of how shitty a person I am! I KNOW I'M A SCREW UP, STANF0RD! I KNOW that!! Preaching to the freakin' choir on that front!" He looked down at himself and laughed a humorless laugh. "I mean hell, just LOOK at me! I'm knocked up with some bastard-not-worth-the-air-he-breathes' bastard! All with no place to call home! That's fuck up incarnate, amirite??"

F0rd began to respond but was abruptly cut off.

“And here’s another thing you were right about; the WHOLE-ASS drive up here and how much it absolutely SUCKED! Over thirteen-fucking-HUNDRED miles on the road is no place to be when you’re essentially a walking, talking time bomb! The whole drive, the whole drive, I've had this crippling, nagging fear at the back of my brain telling me I’d likely end up hopelessly lost! Or, better YET, reminding me of the possibility that I’d might have to pull over at some point and spit this kid out on the side of the road without any help! Do you know how terrifying that thought was, F0rd?? When you’re trying to navigate those insanely long back roads nobody knows about, all on your own?? And all for the sake of showing up when your brother asked for you to, because you foolishly thought he actually NEEDED you?? OF COURSE YOU DON’T!! Cuz that WASN'T you, that wasn't YOUR problem, and thus it doesn’t MATTER!! The world revolves around YOU, and anyone else's issues can go ahead and take a back seat for all you care, isn’t that right??"

“St@nley, stop it! You’re becoming hysterical!” F0rd attempted to reason, wanting desperately to diffuse the situation… Needless to say, it was fruitless…

“NO!! Because you wanna know what else?? NEWSFLASH, brother, YOU'RE not perfect either! You act like you're ‘God's gift to the populace’ or something when you're NOT! It's not like you ever bothered to help ME out when I needed somebody! I’ve only ever had myself for the better part of 10 years, so it would’ve been nice for you to, I dunno, check in once or twice! Or at least a throw out some bullshit 'Hey, bro! Hope you're alive and doing alright! I can't talk or meet with you right now, and frankly I probably don't WANT to, but I hope you know l've not forgotten about you and that somewhere deep down I still love you! Take care, St@nley!' for some semblance of caring! Just SOMETHING!! Some acknowledgment that I EXIST!! That-That I’m not just a-a-a STAIN left behind!! So WHY?? Why did I care?? Why did I think-..?!" He froze when his voice suddenly cracked, cutting him off before he could continue.

Now noticing how hazy his vision had become, how shaky his hands were, he was horrified to realize that he'd burst into tears partway through his rant. All the repressed emotions were starting to show face... 'Humiliated' couldn't even BEGIN to cover how he felt right then... And when he finally studied the expression F0rd currently wore, he felt like he might vomit.

That all too familiar look of pure, unadulterated… pity… The physical embodiment of ‘Oh you poor, pathetic thing...’

St@nley DESPISED that look… It’d been one he’d received countless, countless times in his life. And while he knew that more often than not the intent behind that expression was never truly out of ill meaning, the immense degradation it brought him was suffocating. He couldn’t bear to see it another second… especially coming from his own flesh and blood. He squeezed his eyes shut to escape it.

F0rd, meanwhile, was at a complete loss for words. What could he say? What should he say?? How could he explain the sheer magnitude of what’s been going on that didn’t sound like the utter ramblings of a man who’s lost his mind?? How could he convince St@nley to put aside their personal issues for a second and help aid him in fixing this mess?? Important things needed attending to!! This was a matter of the fate of the WORLD, dammit!! The livelihood of effectively EVERYONE!!

But then… his brother’s points made him reflect… What of his brother’s woes?… St@nley’s woes??... The woes of the person who, at one point in time, meant MORE to him than the world itself??… Did they not matter in the grander scheme?? The hardships St@nley had gone through completely alone, left unbeknownst to him just because he… couldn't bring himself to reach out and see how his brother was actually doing?.. Simply because he couldn't bear the thought of truly knowing how rough he had it in life while they were apart?..

Assuming St@nley was just wandering aimlessly around all this time, without a care or ounce of respect for anyone in the world, made ignoring those painful thoughts so much easier... Knowing what he did now, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

For so long, Stanf0rd had spent every waking hour pouring over his research, dragging himself along through countless sleepless nights, pushing anyone and everyone away... out of his mind... out of his heart... all to combat an omniscient evil he still frustratingly… didn’t quite understand yet, himself... His work had completely and utterly consumed him. He’d lost sight of what few allies he had… He'd lost sight of his family… And loathe as he was to admit it, perhaps in this mission to ‘save humanity,’ he actually lost sight of his own…

As he concluded his thought, one thing was made painfully clear… Somehow, one way or another, both his brother and himself had each come to face some form of isolation…

They really were two sides of the same coin...

Taking a moment to steel himself again, St@n pressed the heel of his hand against one eye and then the other, wiping away the tears that managed to run down his cheeks. "I should've known better than to think I could ever be of any help to you... of any value to you... So I’ll do you the courtesy of getting the hell outta your hair. For good this time.”

“St@nley…”

“Can it!” St@nley swiftly snatched the duffle bag off the floor and turned to grab the doorknob, then called out over his shoulder. "Oh yeah, one last thing! Thank you EVER so much for the new 'tattoo!' What better souvenir to remember your estranged brother by than one that's been burned directly into your skin, eh? Your hospitality is truly unmatched, Stanf0rd. TRULY." He re-zipped his jacket and yanked the door open. "See ya never, fuck head," he spat before he slammed the door behind him.

"Hey! HEY!! St@nley, WAIT!!" F0rd followed close behind, storming his way to the door and ripping it back open about as quickly as it was shut. "Damnit St@nley, would you just hold on a second and hear me out-AH!.," he gasped, flinching when he'd almost ran into his brother from behind.

St@n had stopped short on the porch, motionless.

Huffing, he sternly maneuvered around to the right of his brother to face him from the side. “Please, think rationally! You know as well as I do that you have no business running around in the condition you’re in! Look, I get that you’re upset, alright?? I’m sorry! I really am! But you can’t just skip off and..,” he trailed off when he realized St@n was staring straight ahead over the front yard, the look on his face unreadable. He tentatively followed the trajectory of his line of sight, only to freeze in place himself. “… leave…”

Their wide eyed expressions mirrored each other’s, standing parallel as they both gazed at the sight before them.

Snow had piled up by several feet. MUCH higher than it had been earlier . Within just a few hours it had gone from knee height to probably high enough to halfway submerge a person. In the distance, only the rough shape of El Diablo was visible, having a thick cocoon of snow encompassing the body of the vehicle.

And the snow just KEPT coming.

There was no getting out in that…

St@n groaned defeatedly, burying his face in his hands. “Whatever higher power has it out for me can kindly kiss my ass…”

TBC

[pacificwanderer]

Reylo is was and always will be canon. I sure don't need some marketing copy to confirm what mine eyes have seen!