#cause I do like writing lore

[veinsfullofstars]

“Any more stupid questions?”

Bonus live reactions to being saved from a Dark Matter ambush:

Started 07/13/24, finished 07/27/24 | Kintsugi AU Masterpost

[gen4grl]

you would think after all the yapping i do about these losers i would have a plethora of art uploaded … no… so here is my first kantrio post lol

i did these over the last month while watching the olympic weightlifting and jamming to kpop (stan red velvet and kiss of life BTW!!!)

[fruitsofhell]

Yall, its time to ramble about visual/environmental storytelling cause this is silly article is driving me insane.

I won't argue for if the game should have had more constant and involved cutscenes like Robobot or Star Allies, but what I will say is that this game is VERY rich in story through the world design. The Forgotten Land as opposed to say the Land of the Sky in TD or the entire galaxy of Star Allies is like, DROWNING in writing and narrative. It builds so much mystery and intrigue through the theming of every world and even individual levels, with exploring both how the people of the land originally lived and how it's being reclaimed by nature and the animals.

I think the closest things maybe is Robobot and Halcandra in RTDL, the former having great little designs that key you into WHAT Haltmann is doing and what makes it so toxic. Halcandra though is the ultimate grand-daddy, the contrast between it and the Lor, and Egg Engines and Dangerous Dinner is full of theming and clues about the nature and history of the planet. AND THAT IS STORY, THAT IS WRITING! Especially when compared to say Star Allies, where most of the levels of the levels are just ye average Kirby themed fluff with little to say about the Jamba or the state they've left the galaxy in. But when you play through the casino levels of Robobot, as well as delightful theming and level design, you see that Haltmann is erecting literally the most predatory entertainment centers imaginable. When you step off the sleek futuristic Lor into the scrapyards and wastes of Halcandra, you get fun intimidating final worlds, and a good grasp on *why* the people who made the Lor aren't around anymore, and may even start questioning why Magolor made such a great fuss of dragging you to this horrible place. Music is also deeply important to this storytelling. Each of the factories/towers erected in ever world of Robobot's theme is a remix usually of themes related to older mechanical levels, subtly clueing you into where Haltmann go their technology from. Outside the Lor rather than the comfortable motif of Green Greens is this almost comically suspicious and disoriented theme once you're stuck on Halcandra and returning to Magolor with more doubts about his words. The final level inside of the volcano house a theme that is teasing the twist to come, and the theme for fighting Landia before the big reveal is less triumphant, and more majestic and pensive. Possibly trying to evoke more hesitance than confidence, even if most people wouldn't catch on to that on a first run.

But the cooler thing, is that while Robobot has this cool theming at key levels, and RtDL does at the end, this type of shit is pervasive ALL throughout Forgotten Land. Every world and nearly every level is a unique, well thought-out set piece! You get to see abandoned towns, cities, malls, stores, factories, resorts, and an amusement park, each which serves as more than just a fun location, but a clear picture of the world and the state its in. This intent is made clearer through the music and tone that goes out of its way to not highlight the destruction of these areas but their beauty, wonder, and mystery through the eyes of an clueless animals and our favorite pink alien. The abandoned Alivel Malls theme is a track as upbeat and peppy as what must've played over it's speakers in it's hayday, because the hustle and bustle breathed back into it by the animals and Kirby just exploring this mysterious complex is just as lively. The theme of the Everbay Coast is peaceful and sunny despite the Holine ruins because it's as part of the scenery to the animals and Kirby as the picturesque palms and sands. And Wondaria!!!!!!!!! OMG WONDARIA WHERE TO EVEN BEGIN WITH EVERY FUCKING LEVEL AND THEME IN WONDARIA!!! THIS IS WHY I CAN'T TAKE THAT CLAIM SERIOUSLY - y'know when I cried at Forgotten Land? In world 3. Not because of a cutscene or a line of dialogue, but just from the sheer emotion the setting evoked in me. The sweet, laid-back, starry-eyed wonder that it expressed from Kirby mixed with my own sense of nostalgia being aware of what that place was, and how beautiful it was to see it rediscovered and adored by Kirby and the animals of the Forgotten Land. It evokes such a strong feeling of bittersweetness, of existential dread comforted by the knowledge that the simple joys and memories we create places like amusement parks to share will continue on as long as there is life in the world. And unlike some of my musings about past games, this was explicitly intentional. What truly brought the tears to my eyes was remembering an interview where the devs were explaining how they were trying to keep the tone light and Kumazaki said specifically they wanted to evoke peace and beauty rather than loss.

LIKE THIS IS WRITING! This is storytelling, this is intention. It's just subtle, but not at all unimportant, and it ties into the more overarching plot. It raises the question constantly of where the people went that is answered by Forgo, and expresses the dichotomy between the simple innocence of the animals compared to the ambitions of the people who abandoned them and that is now possessing their leader. It creates stakes for Elfilis and Forgo's intentions to destroy everything so beautiful and pure about the current world, but as it absolves the current world of guilt, it puts into perspective JUST HOW LONG Forgo must have been locked away that things changed so much. And as softly as the exploits of the original people are portrayed by the game, knowing their treatment of Eliflis and Forgo as a thing of entertainment and tool for innovation is sickening placed in contrast with it. Like back to Wondaria, the way it shows how much space travel must have pervaded the imagination and escapism of the people either before or after Forgo's arrival is insanely smart. And it gives me chills in the best way seeing Kirby run around images of cartoon aliens from a civilization who would never meet him. Of Kirby, Elfilin, and Bandana sticking their head into a cardboard cutout of an astronaut meeting an alien, with the text "wish you were here" above in a script they don't even understand. A SCRIPT THE WRITERS MADE FOR THIS GAME SO THAT THEY COULD ADD MESSAGES LIKE THAT INTO THE WORLD FOR KEEN PLAYERS TO NOTICE AND MAKE CONNECTIONS. Like it's insane. The dedication the Hal Labs has to stuff like this is maddening! It's so sweet and heartfelt and crafty, I'm so pissed off how little respect it gets because people don't understand visual storytelling!!!!! Saying Forgotten Land is light on story is preposterous, it might just be one of the most finely crafted stories the series has had to date, and is just a really solid piece of science fantasy writing in general honestly. It is packed with environmental storytelling that drives me Up The Fucking Wall, Man.

[fleetsonourgecentral]

Hey sorry for throwing this on you suddenly but aghhh I can’t take it anymore

We need to talk about Scourge coming in actual contact with Fleetway’s chaos energy. Sooner or later it’s bound to happen with all the batshit insanity that goes on that universe.

It’s so easy to say he would have a super crazed form much like Sonic’s. But there’s so much to possibly speculate because the strange way chaos energy works there. Scourge also originally absorbed master emerald energy from the Prime universe and I absolutely refuse to believe it just made him permanently green with a tiny power boost!

Some have suggested that Super Scourge would actually have a more docile gentler personality based on the fact Fleetway’s Evil King Sonic turns good when he absorbs chaos energy. So apply that to Scourge’s case. While everyone is relieved that he’s on their side, Sonic just gets pissed off ofc because that’s not his Scourge at all. Like okay he’s nice too nice, good, but give me back the green asshole I care about.

He could also possibly transform at will though rather than being emotion-based. (though it’ll be fucking hilarious whenever Scourge feels really happy and is just like aw fuck c’mon just let me be happy in the inside—super form)

He still wouldn’t largely remember what he did though when he’s Super (maybe exist as a voice in Super’s head at times) and Sonic bullies him for all the good deeds he does but is likely too flustered to talk about him at first

There can be still conflict to all of this because Sonic can never have it easy in his universe especially when it comes to Scourge. His Super form being aware of Scourge and often refuses to change back. The saving grace is that he could share Scourge’s cowardly traits, so Sonic goes borderline feral whenever this happens and scares his super form off 90% of the time. the other 10% is having the freedom fighters gently coax him to transform back/Scourge gaining back complete control. Over time he also could be mischievous with Sonic only and playfully mess with him in ways Sonic very much does not like.

or another scenario is since he originally absorbed chaos energy from the Prime universe, and is coming in contact with the corrupted chaos energy here, this might cause changes in him. Either gaining new abilities and power/ causing physical & mental imbalances/ (Scourge why tf are you acting like your Super sometimes—) / shares a deeper connection to the master emerald here that might lead to something objectively good or worse in the long run

but no one knows yet if transforming the way Sonic used to would apply to the other universes. He should be cautious. (Realistically, if Scourge has the will to transform, he wouldn’t even bother gotta keep that bad boy reputation he’s got after all.)

ahhh that’s all otherwise I think I might go on forever! anyway I hope you touch on this subject sometime again in the future, it’s so fun to see how you write them out.

Oh god okay okay okay you have given me MUCH to think about and I love it so muchhhh because I love to think about lore especially the lore of the chaos emeralds in the fleetway universe even if I usually never end up coming to a conclusion. Normally I try to only put my fics under a read more, but this got long so I'm putting it under a cut

Okay so you're absolutely correct that the easy thing to do is to assume the influence of the chaos emeralds would have the same effect on him as it did on Sonic, and initially, that was my knee-jerk reaction. The corrupted energy of the emeralds fucks over both Sonic and Kintobor, after all, so it's logical to assume they would do the same to Scourge. Outside of these two, the only other people we see under the influence of chaos energy are Chaos (which happens pre-Kintobor's tampering) and Super (who is made of chaos energy, and only chills out when he is drained of/disconnected from/doesn't use the powers of his chaos energy and immediately goes back to murderous the second he either uses the power of his chaos energy or comes into contact with the chaos emeralds) so those are all we've got to go on, and they don't provide a good track record. We know that in small amounts some chaos energy isn't immediately harmful - I believe the Power Rings in stc have very small amounts of chaos energy in them, and touching one of them didn't instantly cause Sonic to turn super - but if there's a build up, or just larger amounts, it rarely means something good. Following the pattern of what we know about the chaos emeralds and chaos energy in general, it is a reasonable conclusion that they would have the same impact on Scourge

A good point is raised about King Sonic and his reaction to the chaos emeralds, which adds to the evidence that the chaos emeralds may not instantly make Scourge's super form evil and out of control, but we're only in that universe for a little bit, and we don't get to see how chaos energy works in that universe. We don't know if there were any differences in Kintobor's experiments, for example - was he still trying to rid the world of evil by storing it in the emeralds, and were his experiments successful in this dimension? Or did he take a different approach and use the power of the emeralds as purification, instead of containment? - so it's impossible to tell if the chaos emeralds in that mirror dimension even work the same as the chaos emeralds in the main dimension. Not knowing if there are differences in how they work makes it difficult to know if the chaos emeralds in the main dimension would have the same impact on Scourge as the mirror dimension. Arguments can be made for both

What does immediately stand out is your point that Scourge absorbed the power of the Master Emerald in the prime dimension. I'm not too familiar with the lore of the chaos emeralds in the archie canon, but it's pretty safe to say it's very different to the lore and history of the chaos emeralds in the fleetway comics (they aren't fucked, for one). So the immediate question is: how would the chaos energy of these two different dimensions interact? It's tempting to say chaos energy is chaos energy, and that fleetway's corrupted energy would corrupt the chaos energy from the prime zone, but the chaos energy in these two dimensions presumably has completely different origins, so they might not even be similar enough for corruption to happen. Different wavelengths or something, the same way anarchy energy in Moebius is presumably different to the chaos energy of both the prime zone and the fleetway dimension. And if there's no corruption, how would these two very different chaos energies interact, or do they even interact at all?

On top of that, Scourge didn't just absorb any chaos energy. He got zapped specifically with the energy of the Master Emerald. So it's not just any old chaos energy, it's energy that can control and neutralise the chaos emeralds and their chaos energy. Whether or not Scourge can use that energy he got blasted with, that's still something pretty overpowered to be running through his body

So if he was to be hit with chaos energy from Sonic's dimension, how these two different energies interact - again, if they interact at all - could have a big impact on what happens to Scourge. Are the energies similar enough that the energy from the Master Emerald can neutralise the energy of the chaos emeralds that come from a completely different dimension? And if this energy can be controlled by the Master Emerald's energy, that gives Scourge a much better chance of retaining control over himself. Kintobor and Sonic notably got blasted with energy that grew unstable because they only had six of the emeralds, crucially missing the one emerald that controls the others. And when Knuckles has the emeralds, he can control their energy, even corrupted as it is, just fine, enough to put a stop to Robotnik. If the Master Emerald's energy in Scourge can do something similar, there's a very, very good chance he's not even at risk the same way Sonic is. It could very well just act like an ordinary super form

Or maybe the chaos energies are too different, and the Master Emerald's energy has no impact on the chaos emeralds from Sonic's dimension. From there, that could either be the equivalent to a negative chemical reaction, or nothing happens and the chaos emeralds continue to impact Scourge as normal. I'm leaning more towards the latter, because we see Scourge wield anarchy beryl post-ME zapping, and anarchy energy and chaos energy are presumably different energies, and the energy of the ME doesn't seem to change anything about the way anarchy energy influences Scourge, but the former is definitely a possibility considering the additional corruption of the chaos emeralds. It would probably look similar to what you mentioned (possible new powers, physical and/or mental imbalance, deeper connection to the master emerald, and honestly so many more possibilities)

Another thing that comes to mind is how the the chaos emeralds' impact Captain Plunder, when they temporarily absorb the negative energy of him and his crew. It's the only time I can think of we see the chaos emeralds impact anyone in a vaguely positive way, and is, imo, actually pretty good evidence to the idea that they could impact Scourge the same way they impact King Sonic. Of course, the difference here is that the pirates didn't (to my understanding) actually get blasted with chaos energy; they were just around the emeralds long enough for their negative energy to be absorbed, and the emeralds were retrieved before they could become unstable and blast the pirates with chaos energy. So maybe actually using the emeralds wouldn't have this impact, but again: if the energy from the Master Emerald can control the chaos emeralds, then maybe a side effect of using them without losing control might be the emeralds absorbing Scourge's negative energy; it's pretty safe to assume he must have a lot of it as an Anti Sonic, after all. It might not make a difference, again, because of the differences of Scourge having a connection to the prime dimension, not Sonic's dimension, but honestly, I don't think it would be a stretch to assume they would have this impact. To my understanding, it's pretty vague if this "negative energy" that the emeralds absorb is negative chaos energy, or something else entirely. So, up to whatever u wanna go with

Interestingly, this also means that even if turning super doesn't make Scourge mellow out the same way it does to King Sonic, just being around the emeralds and using them might. So Scourge might not even need to use them for them to change him, which... well, Sonic already doesn't have good associations with the chaos emeralds, so seeing them so drastically change Scourge even when he's not using them wouldn't sit well with him. As you said, he really, really likes Scourge, and he especially likes that Scourge is an asshole. The asshole is who he fell in love with, and he wouldn't take kindly to that being changed

His instinct is, of course, that the chaos emeralds will have the same effect on Scourge as they do on him, which is why he's so desperate to keep Scourge away from chaos energy. He wouldn't want to take the risk, and once they grow close, he especially doesn't want to lose someone else he loves to chaos energy. He wouldn't be happy about Scourge becoming "not an asshole" under their influence, but he's infinitely more terrified of them doing to Scourge what they did to him. Of course, there's no guarantee how long that will last. Like you said, Scourge is bound to come into contact with chaos energy eventually. It's just a matter of how much of it he comes into contact with. Sonic just has to pray it's a small, non-harmful amount

The tldr is that exactly how the emeralds and chaos energy impacts Scourge depends entirely on how you the rules work, and as there is no canon explanation for how these rules differ and thus would interact, it's entirely up to whim on how it would play out, and I am indecisive and like the sound of both scenarios lmao whoops. I enjoy chewing on these thoughts, because I like thinking about what the rules could be, and the results of these different rules. I like having options on how I want to spin things. So for now I haven't committed to one idea on how the emeralds would impact Scourge. That may change in the future, but for now it's a solid "whichever set of rules I wanna play with at any given time"

Okay fdhsdj now that I'm done overthinking the lore, I'm following up on the rest of your ask, because I also really like and am intrigued by the scenario presented here. I love the idea that Scourge can transform at will, because the interesting thing about chaos energy in Sonic's dimension is that it kinda... sticks around. Super is slowly drained, but he's made from chaos energy, so the rules are a bit different for him. And although Sonic comes down from being hopped up on chaos energy, we can assume there's still some in there, because stress can cause him to transform even when he's nowhere near the chaos emeralds or power rings. It's reasonable to assume that if Scourge used the emeralds, or maybe if he also absorbed a lot of chaos energy, there's a good chance it would stick around in his body too (maybe getting zapped by the ME also makes it so chaos energy sticks to him easier, if you want further explanation?)

And if it sticks around in his body, I think you could probably make a pretty strong case for Scourge being able to transform at will. Because although Sonic doesn't transform at will, I don't think Sonic really wants to. Why would he? His super form is destructive and has a very high risk of hurting innocent people and the people Sonic cares deeply about. The super form is an involuntary last resort, and considering the consequences that come with it, of course we won't see Sonic try to do it at will

You know who we do see use the powers of chaos energy at will, though? Super. You could make the argument this is an ability unique to him because he's made of chaos energy, but I don't see why it couldn't be an something Scourge (and Sonic, if he wanted to) could do. Granted, when Super used his powers he fell right back under the influence of the chaos energy, but if we're working under the assumption Scourge doesn't deal with those negative effects when he uses the chaos emeralds, then that isn't a consequence he has to worry about. So I think it's pretty reasonable to assume he could transform at will, because if Super can use the powers of chaos energy at will, why can't Scourge?

(That being said the idea of Scourge forcibly transforming because he got too excited or riled up or even too happy is a hilarious mental image that will delight me for the rest of my days)

Scourge would, however, hate that his super form is so nice lmao. It's hilarious how much he'd hate it. He'd be less reluctant to do it than Sonic if only because he doesn't have to deal with the same burdens Sonic does, but you're so right that he wouldn't bother to transform because he has a Reputation, and his super form threatens that reputation. Sonic had to wake up from every transformation going "oh god who did I hurt" while Scourge wakes up from every transformation going "what do you MEAN I built an orphanage with my bare hands??? This is the worst day of my life" and this is made worse by the fact the freedom fighters would not let him forget about any good deeds done while transformed

I LOVE the concept of Super Scourge refusing to change back, especially as it has a lot of weight to it. King Super Sonic's immediate reaction is to want to stay like that, and Super refuses to use his powers out of fear of becoming evil again. So it makes sense that Super Scourge in this scenario would refuse to turn back; his normal self is a horrible person, selfish and rude, why would he want to become that awful person again? In stc this is framed a good thing, because both Super and King Sonic were evil, but for Scourge? Becoming a nice person is closer to horror for him, tbh. For his entire self, the identity he clings so hard to, to be stripped away and locked up forever. Rendering him the same as any other Sonic in the multiverse, with absolutely no way to stand out. The idea of that happening - worse, of choosing to do that to himself - is horrifying to him. For once, becoming a "better" person is not the good option. It's the terrifying one

I also really like the idea that he shares Scourge's cowardice, and that is what ultimately makes him bend to the demands to change back. Sure, eventually Scourge would turn back on his own - super transformations are temporary after all - but if Super Scourge really was that reluctant to transform back, he'd search for a way to make it permanent, just like King Super Sonic, or at least keep it up longer. All it would really take is an extra dose of chaos energy from the emeralds to keep up the transformation for a little longer. So it's really nice that there's another reason he ends up transforming back outside of it happening naturally, even if the other reason is Sonic scaring the shit out of him and probably threatening to kick his ass until he transforms back lol. Honestly, in a way it's really sweet that Sonic loves his asshole boyfriend so much that he throws a fit over said asshole boyfriend becoming a nicer person. He finds it genuinely unnerving when Scourge isn't an asshole, and he hates that Super Scourge wants to say super, like Scourge's bad attitude is a thing that should be fixed. He especially hates it because he knows how much Scourge hates being perceived as nice or good or a hero, so watching Super Scourge act like he's better off this way upsets him greatly because he knows how much it would upset Scourge if he was in his right mind

As for headcanons about possible dynamics, I think Super Scourge would drive Sonic up the wall, mostly because Scourge becoming nice would lead to him, like, cuddling close to Sonic and saying lots and lots of sappy and romantic shit, and worse, being genuine while he says it. Sonic is flustered. Sonic hates it. That's not his boyfriend who says one thing and does another and only says nice things if it's wrapped in three layers of sarcasm and irony. He is pushing Super Scourge away and yelling at him to change back and stop trying to kiss him, stop being nice to him that's not how this works all while Super Scourge talks about how much he loves and appreciates Sonic. A kind of:

"You're beautiful" "HE'S LOST HIS MIND!!!! >:("

kinda dynamic.

(In the background, the freedom fighters are filming this interaction, and they will force Scourge to watch it once he's back to normal. Scourge will also hate this and is three seconds away from burying someone alive. He and Sonic silently agree to never talk about the incident, while the freedom fighters are committed to never letting them forget it)

[fluffle-writes]

I wanna. Pick them up in my mouth and shake 'em around like a dog obliterating a squeaky toy

[cealesti]

"The Benko Gambit"?

That's a chess move, isn't it? I feel like this is either Tom centric, or Ron centric. I have my bias, obviously, because I did so enjoy how you portrayed Tom and his relationship to chess in "with eyes like these", but I would be curious anyhow cause I love chess in general.

As a gambit, it's rooted in the sacrifice of pawns, right?

Wonder what that might say about the focus character. If it's not Ron or Tom, I'm betting on Dumbledore.

oooh, what to say about "The Benko Gambit"?

edit: Right off the bat, this is a fic that's sort of a love letter to a bunch of fics I adore. The idea of Harry as Senior Undersecretary, for example, is straight out of "All For Show". The Snape & Hermione dynamic is something I only thought of after reading Hauntingly. You get it.

This is one of the WIPs I'm most excited about, definitely the one I've written more for, and probably my next big project after the "anybody else" series is eventually done with. This isn't really centered around a specific character, there's an ensemble cast to focus on, but Ron is a very important piece of the puzzle and yes, that's part of the reason I chose to go for a chess-themed title. The objective would be for every chapter to be named after chess manouvers; think "x opening, castling, y defense, check" so on and so forth.

The general strategy [of the Benko Gambit] is to sacrifice your Queen-side pawns in order to gain advantage (...) If the gambit is accepted, some of the lines that can develop are complicated and difficult to play.

This fic follows a back-and-forth structure; we go back between the trio's fifth year and the present moment of the fic, a good five years later. They're drastically different timelines: after all, in the present, Hermione, Snape, and Kinglsey are leading the Order of the Phoenix; Vee is playing at Government with Harry as his Senior Undersecretary and Ron and Draco as his Junior Undersecretaries. Susan Bones is an Auror, Luna is an Unspeakable, and this is very convenient, because Sirius Black has just popped out of the Veil, for reasons still unknown.

You may be asking: how on earth does any of that happen?

Here's a "for want of a nail" scenario: what if, in OotP, Ron doesn't throw Percy's letter away? What if - stick with me here - what if he answers it?

Wouldn't that be a hell of a gambit?

Snippet under the cut!

(September, 1995)

Tell me if you’ve heard this one before.

Three friends sit by a fireplace, late at night in their Common Room. The room is empty but for the three of them and a large ginger cat, who’s content to lay on his owner’s lap and purr up a storm. The rain pelts against the glass windows of the tower, wind whistling sharply, and though the room is warm and cozy and familiar, there’s a whisper of unease in the air.

Something that creeps under the skin, like disease. Like rot.

They’re living through a war, though many would not call it that. Many would rather call a fifteen-year-old orphan a liar, ridicule him in the papers, as quick to turn on him as they are to seek his favour, in a maddening media circus that speaks to the fickleness of public opinion.

You’re sixteen years old. You’re bright, and you’re driven, and you’re scared. You’re a target yourself, too muggleborn and too clever by half, but that’s not even the half of it, because one of your best friends has a target on his back as well, and the rest of the world is more than happy to pretend that it doesn’t exist.

Your other best friend has a letter clutched in his hand. His knuckles are white, ears red with fury and a little grief, for that letter was penned by a brother that he hasn’t seen in months. A brother who walked out on their family, blind to their reason in the face of his pride, and who now urges your friend to do the same.

Tell me if you’ve heard this one before.

The three friends ridicule the letter and the one who sent it. They sit in their fury against an establishment that was meant to protect them. They go through the school year and form a rebellion, a resistance, jump through hoops and outsmart older and more experienced wixen with little more than their guile and their will. At the end of the year, they fall headfirst into a trap. They lose the first of many friends.

This is not that story - though it might not be obvious at first.

In this story, they still fall headfirst into a trap after a misguided attempt at rescue. They still lose a friend. They still form a resistance, outsmart their watchers and all of those who would see them condemned for speaking the truth, and they do it with little more than their wits and their heart and their conviction.

But in this story - they don’t dismiss that letter.

In this story, your best friend, who is proud and brave and selfless, the epitome of what a fairytale hero should be -

In this story, he raises his head, green eyes flashing with something shrewd. Something new.

In this story, he pauses, and says:

“We can use this.”

[boxwinebaddie]

uncle nina, were u a directioner becuz i feel like thats what inspired rm mayb

*sigh*

...no.

unfortunately, i liked 5sos.

which i think explains...

Everything. :/

[thatoneluckybee]

Tell me about your OCs! (if you have any)

Good grief I have many an oc… I’ve spoken vaguely about my mains online BUT I keep it vague for privacy stuff lol. The main set are from a story me and a close friend began IRL years ago that was all but abandoned after the pandemic. They aren’t really into it anymore so essentially I’ve been given free reign over them. However… I have no set plan on what we’re gonna do. We both love art so we’ve considered making it into like a webcomic or a book but neither of us know. It’s just this series stuck in my head. I keep things vague with them love in case we ever do get around to making this a real published thing (also because I am… 60% sure said friend has a tumblr and Do Not Want Them To Find Me.)

[skitskatdacat63]

I meant to write more for a pt 2 lore post earlier but didn't end up doing so, so pls take these AU sketches(Mark & Jense and then some assorted sketchies)

[nidstiniens]

just a lil wip—

"You're staring at me," Estinien said flatly, narrowing those cold eyes at him.

"It's not a fair fight," Aymeric replied with a shrug, unable to help himself. "No one's heard from you in weeks, and now you turn up looking like— how long has it been since you last slept?"

"Should have known you didn't simply want to train," the dragoon muttered accusingly, petulantly sending his lance clattering to the stone floor at Aymeric's feet instead. "You and yours have an irritating habit of thinking you need to corner me like a feral animal every time I wish to keep to myself."

This time, it was Aymeric's turn to glare, mood soured exponentially. Most days, he could weather out his oldest friend's ornery tendencies, choosing to treat them with a quiet understanding, but he was in no mood to be Estinien's punching bag. Not when he'd asked him there in good faith.

"People grow concerned when someone disappears without a word and return looking no better off," he snapped, an icy bite to his voice that forced the other man to avert his gaze. "Not everyone in your life cares only for what you can give them, Estinien — some of us do worry for you because that's what friends do."

He supposed those might have been fighting words, were he talking to anyone but the Azure Dragoon, but regardless, something got through to him. After a prolonged silence he spoke up, still avoiding Aymeric's accusatory stare, and still brusque in tone, as if he wasn't sure how this worked.

"Apologies," was all he said, tossing the canteen back to him.

Something unpleasant nipped at Aymeric's core as he took in Estinien's demeanor, the way he slouched a little too aggressively as he brushed past him to lean against the wall. It showed in the way he held himself rigid as stone, jaw clenched tighter than necessary in order to withstand a reprimand that never came, and how he continued to avoid his stare.

"I know you much better than you give me credit for," Aymeric said plainly, readjusting himself on the crate to face him. "You wouldn't have agreed to see me if you weren't interested in talking — if you didn't want me to pry it out of you just like I always have."

"Forgive me then," Estinien replied with a scoff, turning his eyes to the ground as he heaved a deep sigh. "I suppose you expect thanks as well."

[whisper-my-serenade]

wayward son

a theoretical todd anderson origin story

word count: 5937

cw: non-consensual kissing, f-slur, period-accurate homophobia

Todd sat himself at the top of the staircase, careful not to make a sound lest his parents hear around the corner. They spoke in hushed, angered tones; they spat his name like that of a plague. It was as if he was a misbehaving dog that they couldn’t put down, but some other form of containment had to be found. In that moment, he might have preferred if they just shot him Old Yeller-style.

“Aren’t there religious places we can send him? Places that are equipped to deal with things like this?” his father was saying, exasperated. 

“No, no, everyone knows those don’t work. Besides, people would ask too many questions about where he’s gone,” his mother huffed. He thought it surprising that she was against a religious school, seeing as she was the one who dragged them all to church every Sunday. 

His father sighed, the heavy, long thing that Todd knew he did as a quiet way of telling people to shut up and do whatever he said. “We’re running out of options, Lorraine. We need somewhere that will keep him in line. A military school, maybe?”

“Ha!” his mother cracked. “Could you imagine? He’d be crushed like a bug.”

There was a stiff moment of silence. Todd could feel the heavy, humid summer air creep through the open windows. 

“Why don’t we just send him to Welton?” his mother suddenly replied, and Todd inhaled sharply, almost breaking his silence with a yelp. Please, anywhere but there.

“You can’t be serious,” his father retorted. “After what he’s done? You remember why we didn’t send him there in the first place, don’t you?”

“There’s no better place to get him in line and make sure he gives our family a good name. That’s what that school was made for. Besides, his grades are up enough, I think.”

“I don’t know. He’s not really the Welton type, is he?”

“Do you have any better ideas, Robert?”

Todd waited for the reply with bated breath. Even then he could feel his future being determined right in front of him. 

“Oh, I suppose not. It’s as good a school as any.”

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd Anderson was, at Balincrest, a leper. He was quiet, anxious, had a bad stutter and some awkward nervous ticks that made the other boys call him names usually reserved for asylum patients. But Todd was not a fun target—he had something most other boys his age lacked, that being the emotional maturity to know when to not rise to the bait—and for the most part he was left on his own, reading his infinite novels in some dark hovel and completing his schoolwork silent and alone in a corner of the common room. The teasing, when it did come about, didn’t bother him much because he was as aware of his faults as anyone and no one could punish him for them as he already punished himself. For some reason, though, the one that got to him the most was ‘mute’. It was not that he couldn’t talk, it was that there was no one in the world he felt he could talk with.

Ever since he was a small child, people had very few good things to say about Todd. With his parents, it was always some form of inferiority to his brother, a high cliff of a standard he could never quite climb to the top of. Gone were the days of the two boys dressed in matching outfits, playing games of knights and dragons in their grandparent’s sprawling backyard; now it was only Jeffrey did this and you didn’t. Going to different schools meant Todd only saw glimpses of his brother in the summer, when his primary job was staying out of his family’s hair. Todd didn’t know what Jeff thought about the matter. He also didn’t care.

Todd never particularly excelled in school, either. He was shown to be reasonably bright in class, and was always reading far above his grade level, but his test scores were horrendous, and, worse yet, he failed every presentation he was ever assigned because he simply could not do them. His throat would close up, lungs gasping for air he seemingly could not find, and his mind spun recklessly out of control, trapping him in a distant subconscious where he could not be reached for anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. To his parents, the attacks were another form of embarrassment. Not only was Todd not as smart or socially skilled as his brother, he was also mentally diseased. When he was a child, he’d often sought the comfort of his parents when his mind slipped away from him. But he was sixteen now, and knew better. The Andersons always chose to suffer alone.

That wasn’t to say he had no skills whatsoever. In his younger years he wrote wildly imaginative stories, taking bits and pieces of all the children’s fiction he read to create new worlds of his own to escape to. He wrote little now, burnt out from years of essay writing, but still read ferociously all manner of literature, from low-brow science fiction to the most classical of poets. And, if nothing else, he was quite a good soccer player.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the game—far from it—he just happened to have the skill and anger needed to push his way to the top. Of all the nicknames he was called, no one ever called him sensitive, because he could kick circles around any other player at the school and glare at them like an angry watchdog as he did it. It was a way of release, maybe, but an unfortunate one, because if Todd hated anything, it was having eyes on him. 

Which is why when he ended up on Balincrest’s varsity team his sophomore year (the only one, at that), it filled him with such immense dread that the school nurse thought he’d caught the flu. His first day in that locker room, suddenly surrounded by burly, sweaty upperclassmen who joked about shotgunning beers and assaulting women (another area where Todd lacked expertise), was one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life, and when the coach asked if someone would volunteer to spend a few minutes after practice packing up the equipment, Todd leapt at the chance. Anything to get out of that humid, musky room for a few minutes longer. Too many eyes.

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd had never spoken to Isaac Parker in his life. Isaac was junior, handsome, with golden blonde hair and warm hazel eyes that had the unique ability to convince girls that he was somehow different from every other reckless, immature teenage boy that tried to wiggle their way into their hearts (and skirts). He was also a favorite among the staff, but in that friendly, charismatic way that kept the name “teacher’s pet” off his back. Everyone knew he was destined to be the soccer team captain his senior year, because God had never made anyone else so perfectly for the job. The sun smiled upon this boy. 

It was a spring evening, one of the first warm ones after a brutal northeast winter, that their paths first crossed. Practice was wrapping up, and Todd was skirting off to the side of the field to begin his now usual job of cleaning up when, from over the field, he heard Isaac’s melodic voice joking with the coach and a word of thanks for his help in response. Suddenly, Todd was not alone with his stack of cones. Golden boy Isaac was there, too, an Apollo next to a cowardly mortal. 

Balincrest’s sports equipment shed was a small thing with a corrugated metal roof that pinged like a glockenspiel when it rained and had bits of chipped-off white paint lining the ground underneath it. Inside, it smelled of wet wood and stale sweat and was barely large enough to accommodate more than one person. The boys worked wordlessly stringing the practice equipment to the walls, the close confines meaning Todd was cautious with his every step so as not to draw the attention of the leader. The single bare lightbulb above them flickered as a moth wove its way around and around.

Todd was suddenly aware of the stillness behind him, and when he finished his job and turned around, he found Isaac staring at him with an unreadable expression. Todd suddenly felt an immense weight in his chest, a giant, red-hot star on the verge of bursting. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, Isaac took both sides of his face in his hands and pressed their lips together.

It was a searing, burning feeling. Isaac’s hands and mouth were hot and slick, their noses crashing together as Todd tried and failed to stumble backwards, caught by surprise. Isaac held him there for an unbearable moment before releasing, keeping his eyes closed for a second longer as if reveling in the feeling. Suddenly they burst open, and in the dim glow of the bulb, looked black and full of rage. Todd’s own eyes were stuck wide, breath frozen in his throat. 

The silence was deafening. Isaac suddenly crowded him up against the wall of the shed, burning fingerprints into his arm as a stern hand pointed into his face. “You say a word, you’re dead, got it?”

Todd nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. 

☽ ☼ ☾

After Isaac left Todd with his mouth gaping in the shed, he apparently didn’t go back to the locker room, which Todd was unbelievably thankful for. There was an uncomfortable stillness in the empty room, and Todd felt like he had to constantly keep moving as he showered just to break the sensation. He watched the water wash away all the sweat and memories of touch from his body—the pink bruises forming on his arm, the gently protruding lines of his ribs, the soft, unaltered beating of his heart underneath them. He suddenly smashed the porcelain tile of the shower with his fist, leaning his head into his arms as hot tears began to well in his eyes.

It had been his first kiss. He might have been ashamed if there was anyone to ask him about it, but it wasn’t really that fact that made the embarrassment burn so hot in his chest so much as the fact that it had been a boy. And he hadn’t hated it, not like he should have.

His mother liked to say he was a ‘late bloomer’ and he would find his way into the arms of the fairer sex one of these days, but Todd knew well and good that he’d grown up faster than most and that girls did absolutely nothing for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t have “urges”—he, like nearly every other teenage boy, had his moments in the quiet of his bedroom or the roar of a shower—but he could never picture the face of another person in those moments, only the vague outlines of strong, square bodies and the calloused touch of large hands. If there was a word for this, he did not know it. Or maybe he did, and his mind just refused to connect them. 

He knew what he ought to do: go straight to the coach or the dean and declare what had happened to him, denounce Isaac’s actions with all the fervor and rage he deserved. It was violating, dehumanizing, and, in the eyes of the general public, outright wrong. Todd had done nothing. 

And yet a small voice tugged in the back of his head, asking the same question over and over. Why me? Had Isaac picked his target at random? Did he calculate his odds and decide Todd was the least likely to speak out? Did he just assume that because he was younger, he would be easier to push around and bully into silence?

Or could Isaac tell, in the deep, shameful way that social pariahs connected with each other? Was it something Todd had done that had given it away? How he sat with his legs crossed, like his father scolded him for? The books he read? The names he was called? His incessant loneliness? If he were to tell someone, would they know it, too?

Todd turned off the shower and held still for a moment, letting the water pool and drip off his limbs. He wouldn’t say anything—couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the shame of it, if word got out. He didn’t care for faggot and fairy to be added to the list of things he was called. And what would his parents say? The Andersons could never have a queer for a son. It was bad enough that he liked to read. 

There were different levels of leprosy at Balincrest: those that got you teased, and those that got you killed. Given the option, Todd would choose to stay in his current group, thank you very much.

☽ ☼ ☾

The next time it happened, Isaac didn’t say anything. It lasted longer, a tongue poking out and searching for leverage, but finding none. Todd inhaled the scent of sweet, fresh sweat mixed with cologne, his lips fighting the urge to give in and see what he could get out of this. It was not a mutual relationship. It was not. 

He walked back to his dorm that night to the abject chatter of lonely crickets from the woods, the spring moon high and gleaming above him. His heart was still pounding and his skin felt cold where Isaac’s fingers had gripped it. Todd didn’t think he’d ever been held so firmly. 

There was a part of him that was almost thrilled by it. There was no denying that Isaac had good looks and a movie-star charm, and if Todd had been a girl, he would surely be internally gloating for winning the boy’s affections above all the others. For all the times he’d seen his brother down far too much liquor or try to sneak a girl in through his bedroom window and never understood the appeal of the risk, Todd now felt he understood why teenagers pushed boundaries the way they did—there was adrenaline in it, a high that came with getting away with something. He’d never before had the chance to kiss a boy, and probably never would again. His father might call it “getting it out of his system”, as he did with Jeffrey’s various misdemeanors. And if it was to forever remain his dirty little secret, then so be it. Surely there were far worse things. 

☽ ☼ ☾

The longer it went on, the more routine it became. They put the equipment away in silence, not touching or looking at each other, and then Isaac would go still, and Todd would take it as his que to turn around and allow himself to be grabbed and pushed however Isaac wanted him. They would kiss for a few minutes (maybe longer, maybe shorter; Todd discovered that one lost a sense of time when doing a thing like that) and then Isaac would release him, avoiding his gaze, and flee the scene of the crime. Todd would leave a few moments later, shower, and gaze at the moon as he walked back to the dorms. 

☽ ☼ ☾

The end came on a hot May day, the air still steamy even as the sun lowered in the horizon and sent beautiful orange beams across the brick walls of Balincrest. Campus was filled with the inspirited feeling of summer closing in around them, and the boys grew restless as the last agonizing weeks of school crept by. The soccer team played their best season in years that year, with Isaac as the star of the show and Todd as the overlooked secret weapon. Todd discretely smiled to himself when the coach told him it was a role he played well. 

It was one of the final practices of the season, and Todd almost dreaded it being over. There was a part of him that enjoyed being someone’s secret, and now the normal loneliness that came with being in his empty house all summer came with the added notion that he was losing his source of romantic gratification as well, as little romance as there was involved. He would miss the smell of the boy so close to him, the firm touch of his hands, the furtive glances Isaac would throw him when he thought no one else was looking. But Todd would get used to the loneliness, as he always had. And summer would end, as all things did, and Todd and Isaac would enter each other’s orbits once again.

After practice was over, they went quickly to their usual routine. Maybe the approaching vacation was affecting Isaac, too, because he seemed rougher, pinning Todd a little tighter to the wall and parting his lips with a little more force. It was sloppy and quick, as if time was running out.

It took a moment for them to react when the door of the shed opened, but when they did, the effect was immediate and brutal. Isaac jumped back, shoving at Todd’s shoulder as if to push him away even though Todd was already as close to the wall as he could get. “Get off me, fag!” he shouted, his melodic voice unfamiliar in such harsh words. Todd seemed unable to speak, turning towards the stunned coach in the doorway and hoping his shocked, pained face spoke for him. He lies. I didn’t ask for this.

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd watched Isaac’s parents approach the building from where he’d been locked in the infirmary all night. Their parents couldn’t come in for a meeting so late in the evening, but it was decided that the boys could not be trusted amongst the general population of the school, so they were sequestered at opposite ends of the building with only the occasional staff member for company. Both the dinner and breakfast that had been brought for him lay untouched on their trays. He’d been far too sick that night to eat.

He sank away from the window before he could see his own parents walk up, and counted the seconds between his breaths to fill the time until someone came to guide him to the dean’s office. It was an old trick some childhood doctor had taught him in a fruitless attempt to ease his anxious mind, but if nothing else it was good for giving him something to focus on until the worst of the misery was over. In-1-2-3-4-5. Out-1-2-3-4-5.

“Todd?” the nurse’s fluttery voice rang as the door to the informatory opened with a creak. Todd startled, tripping over his chair to stand and follow her down the quiet stone corridor. As they walked, she kept turning to him with her mouth opening and closing like a fish, as if she had something she wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to word it. That made two of them. 

Todd had never been to the dean’s office, but his mind was incapable of taking in the details of the room as his sight narrowed in on the stern faces of his parents waiting for him. Isaac had beaten him there, sat next to his own mother and father on the far side of the room, gaze turned firmly down. Todd stood in the doorway for a moment, daring him to look up, before a hand forced his shoulder down into the chair that awaited him. 

The dean was a relatively young man, maybe in his mid-forties, with a clean-shaven face and sharply receding hairline that his horn-rimmed glasses did nothing to conceal. The soccer coach stood behind him, deep sadness on his face as he met Todd’s eye. He was probably as disappointed with this whole situation as anyone.

“Well, now that we’re all here, I suppose there’s no point in beating around the bush about the purpose of this meeting. I was told you were all briefed on the situation last night?” The dean asked, nodding towards the two sets of parents in front of him. 

“Yes,” came a small chorus, only Todd’s mother turning to look disapprovingly at her son. 

“Good,” the dean replied, pushing his glasses up on his nose as was his habit. He folded his hands and placed them on his impossibly tidy desk. “Now, we here at Balincrest of course do not in any way approve of such behaviors among our students, but I think you would all agree with me in saying that it’s in the best interest of all for this matter to stay strictly confidential.”

Four heads nodded.

“We wouldn’t want this to become a scandal even within the student body, because things get leaked and the like, so we need to forge a path forward that results in adequate discipline while also keeping gossip to a minimum.”

Todd deeply wished that his mother would stop staring at him with her piercing blue eyes. Her gaze pierced his skin and made him feel like salty sea water was flowing through him instead of blood. He tried to focus on the dean’s words, but could feel the panic rising in his stomach. 

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable to say that it’s not sensible for the both of you to stay at this school,” the dean went on, glancing between Todd and Isaac, only one of whom was actually looking at him in return. “I’m not at liberty to say whether one or both of you were truly at fault for what happened here, but I can assure you that this matter will not end up on your permanent record regardless of what path we decide upon.” The dean directed his gaze at the crown of Isaac’s lowered head. “Now, Mr. Parker, I know the stakes are pretty high for you. Next year’s soccer captain, a chance at valedictorian, a full ride to Duke, I hear…”

Todd’s father now also turned to him, indignation on his face, and Todd suddenly understood what was going to happen. He would be expelled from Balincrest (not in so many words, of course) not because it was his fault, but simply because Isaac had more to lose. Balincrest could handle losing a mute leper with no connections, but could not handle losing its golden boy. He also realized in that moment that nothing he could possibly say mattered anymore. Any chance he had at redemption was lost when he did not fess up after the first incident. 

The adults kept talking, Isaac’s mother even jumping in in defense of her son, but Todd had stopped listening. He’d never felt so small, so useless, such a burden on everyone else around him. He was a fool for thinking this would never come back to bite him—his ability to be invisible only lasted as long as his ability to keep his head down. No wonder his parents couldn’t seem to stand being around him: he was too dumb to even get away with the smallest of infractions. Jeffrey had the charisma to make his misbehavior seem natural, fun, misguided but ultimately entertaining. Todd was not charming enough to get away with anything, not smart enough to choose a fault that was not so taboo, not wise enough to keep from being a stain upon his family’s good reputation. He would be, from that day forth, forever marked by them as a mistake, a printing error on the Anderson family tree, a pariah, a leper. Ghosts, though invisible, were difficult to forget. 

☽ ☼ ☾

Todd’s mother came into his room without knocking to get his laundry, though he’d been home for only a few hours. She couldn’t stand a single inch of the house to be untidy. 

Todd was curled on his bed with his old beat-up copy of The Secret Garden, wishing the story could whip him away to a magical alternate universe as it had when he was a child. But if that day had proved anything, it was that his youth was gone from him without him even knowing it had slipped away. Welton. Fuck’s sake.

The long car ride home had been predictably tense. The first thing his parents were upset about was that he’d forced them to rearrange their schedules—his father missed an important horse race he had bets on (those bets turned out to be fruitful, but that didn’t matter), and his mother was meant to attend a vital meeting of their church’s women’s council that she’d now have to ask Evelyn Peterson for the notes from, and you know how I despise that woman. Next they were distraught over the fact that he’d been kicked out of Balincrest, which was such a wonderful school and they’d worked so hard to get him accepted there despite his shortcomings and now they’d have to get another place to take him that would be father away and more expensive and why couldn’t he just be good like Jeffrey?

For the longest time, they carefully avoided the reason why he’d been forced to leave, and he could mostly tune their chatter out because it was less about scolding him and more about hearing themselves talk. Eventually, though, their words started sticking out in his brain and he couldn’t help but listen.

“...never imagined that I’d raise a son that would do such a thing,” his mother was saying, obsessively fixing her hair in her small compact mirror despite not a single strand being out of place. “And so shamelessly! I thought I’d taught you better than that.”

His father glanced at him from the rear view mirror. Todd glowered at him in return. “Did you really do it, Todd, or did that older boy rope you into it?”

Todd wasn’t sure how to respond. Either of the black-and-white answers would be a lie, but his parents were notoriously not ones for complexity. He cleared his throat. “I-it was all him.”

“Hmph,” his father huffed, turning his eyes back towards the highway before them. The day was aggressively sunny, and the asphalt shimmered in the light. “I thought as much. He had a guilty look about him, that one.”

Todd said nothing.

“But you know that’s how the habit starts, isn’t it? Someone leads you into it and you just get hooked.” His mother suddenly turned to look over into the backseat, waving a nagging finger in his face. “And you listen to me now, Todd. That kind of thing cannot be tolerated in any decent society. It’s a nasty, unhappy way of life and it’s best to condemn it now before it’s too late to turn back. Do you understand?”

Todd nodded, and it seemed to satisfy her. 

“And if anything like this ever happens again,” his father said, his voice growing low and gruff with shame. “We will not hesitate to beat it out of you with any means necessary.”

☽ ☼ ☾

“Todd,” his mother said as she grabbed his abandoned school clothes and folded them before placing them in her basket. “It’s been decided that you’ll go to Welton in the fall.”

She looked at him as if expecting a response, so he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

“This is a very precious opportunity. You cannot afford to waste it.” No, you cannot afford to waste it, he thought.

“Okay,” he said again, and went back to his book.

☽ ☼ ☾

It’s a nasty, unhappy way of life. Those words rang in Todd’s ears as Saratoga Springs, New York entered a steaming hot summer. Todd spent most of his days locked up in his air-conditioned room with his books, the monotony only broken by him sneaking out to get meals, showering before bed, and his weekly excursions to the library to stock up.

While there, he occasionally tried to dig for things that mentioned his condition (he’d decided to call it a condition now—the American Psychological Association deemed it a mental disorder, alongside schizophrenia and social personality disorders, which was what made people psychopaths), but found it difficult to research a subject that seemingly no one wanted to talk about, and God forbid he ask the librarian—she was the one adult he knew that didn’t currently hate him. There was a report from about a decade prior that said homosexuality was far more present in society than most would like to think, and the long, drawn-out trials of a writer arrested for sodomy, but other than that, Todd could find very little that was not about the Bible, and no way in hell was he reading anything about the Bible. He laughed at the thought that it might burn when he touched it.

If he got bored of his books but was too scared to leave the safety of his room, he would stare out the window. It faced their large backyard, and most of the time when he looked out Jeffrey was back there playing soccer with his friends. It was their summer tradition, and Todd remembered the days when his mother would push him out of bed and out the door to “play with them” while she did her weekly top-to-bottom house cleanings. Todd usually ended up half-watching, half focused on his book from the edge of the open grass where they played. The older boys mostly looked upon him with anything from bemusement to outright contempt. No one wanted to be stuck playing with the lame little brother, least of all Jeffrey.

  The exception to this was a boy named Christian Woods. Christian went to Welton with Jeff, and Todd knew they went head-to-head in just about everything—academics, sports, girls— and yet despite their competition, they were the best of friends. Christian happened to be a pretty big literature buff, and always had some comment or another about what Todd was reading when the boys stopped playing for a few minutes to cool off and drink Mrs. Anderson’s lemonade. Whatever Todd said in return (often very little), Christian smiled, flicking the cover of the book and telling Todd he had good taste before leaping up and joining his flock again. 

Todd used to think about Christian a lot, back when puberty was first hitting him and his body ached with unfamiliarity. Christian’s dark eyes and fluffy walnut hair tended to pop into his head at the most awkward times. Stupid juvenile crush, he told himself now, but the word crush felt odd, even in his head. It wasn’t a crush, that was the thing ditsy girls had when they wished Jimmy would ask them to the prom. No, this was just a symptom of his condition—the one that appeared to be chronic and incurable. He liked to think himself wiser now at sixteen than when he’d been a few years younger, but Christian’s smile still made his heart flutter the tiniest bit. Unhappy. He could see that part.

☽ ☼ ☾

Jeffrey seemed to pop into Todd’s bubble more and more often as the summer went on. It was his last summer home before he started at Harvard in the fall (which their parents never failed to remind them of), and it seemed he finally decided to take an interest in his younger brother before he left for good. 

Because Todd had magically been let out of school early, he’d been able to be there for Jeffrey’s graduation from Welton and get a glimpse of his new home for the next two years. He watched as his brother marched across the stage with that despicably fake grin on his face, then zoned out until a point near the end where it was Christian’s footsteps and smile. He shuddered at the thought of it being him up there in front of all those people.

 After the painfully long ceremony was over, Jeff walked right up to his family and gave each of them a backbreaking hug. Todd didn’t remember the last time he and Jeffrey had been that close, but however long ago it was, they certainly hadn’t been the same height as they were now. It scared him a little, the unfamiliarity of this creature who shared his blood. 

When they’d arrived home, Jeff asked all the usual questions about school and how had summer been and was he excited for Welton and why did they let him leave so early? His mother shot him a furtive glance to warn him not to say too much, but Todd needed no reminder—he wouldn’t let that secret out if they tortured him for it. He shrugged as his only response. 

Jeffrey didn’t seem to want to let it go. He knocked on Todd’s door that evening, a piece of Todd’s favorite German chocolate cake in his hand as an excuse, and asked again: why was he home so early?

“Did something bad happen? At school, I mean,” he said as he placed the cake down on Todd’s desk, pushing a stack of books waiting to be returned to the side. 

Todd froze. “No,” he replied quickly. “Nothing happened.”

Jeffrey was clearly still suspicious. “No one picked on you there, right? ‘Cause if you were defending yourself—”

Todd cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it! Nothing happened!”

Jeff seemed startled by the outburst. “Okay,” he said slowly, backing towards the door. “But, just so you know…if you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

“I don’t need to talk.” You’d hate me if you knew, he thought bitterly. 

“Okay,” Jeffrey said again, turning to leave. “Oh, and Todd?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure you take that plate down when Mom’s not around. You know she’ll flip if she finds it up here.”

☽ ☼ ☾

In August, he got the letter. 

He’d started venturing out of his cave more and more, often walking to a spot deep in the nearby woods and laying out a blanket on the ground to read. Being around Jeffrey and his loud, laughing friends hurt too much now, especially as he saw his brother’s life slowly packed away, awaiting the coming move. When September came, who would he be? Same old meek Todd, only now the new kid at a school where the other boys had been building relationships for four years and running. A new kind of leper. 

He thought of Isaac sometimes, and wondered if he was having as miserable a summer as Todd was. Had he told the same lie to his parents that Todd had, that it was all the other boy’s fault and he wasn’t culpable? Did he play soccer with his friends or lock himself away? Did he feel the same pit of dread in his stomach at the thought of going back to school?

It came in a heavy cream envelope, the paper thick with wealth typical of schools whose pockets were lined by the lower echelons of the upper class. It was the same paper as Balincrest, the same typewriter script, only the stamped school seal at the top was different. 

Todd Anderson, read the top line. We are thrilled to have you join us at Welton Academy for the 1959-60 school year.

At the bottom was a school schedule laid out in a neat little table, on the next page was a map of the school and its grounds. The one line that inexplicably stuck out to him was one in the middle of the first page, in plain print.

Room #: 205. Roommate: Neil Perry.

[ghosttrolls]

HI I Love your Posts about trollhunters and Danny Phantom.

they are things i gad trollhunters is different form Danny Phantom

Jim only date one girl and everyone agrees that she is the best Choice for him.

and the main creator isn't a Dick.

but my Question for is if Dash were to become Like Steve was Expose the Ghost world Just Like him how do you think would've involved and this Time his memory stays Like Jez did.

Hi, thank you! Before I say anything else I would like to clarify that while I spend a lot of time comparing themes between the two shows, I don't really feel like one could replace the other - they're both so unique in their execution! Honestly, all the characters in both shows have personalities that couldn't be copied over between the two without the status quo of each show drastically changing. I don't really think of Danny Phantom and Trollhunters in terms of "Danny and Jim are the same person," but more like "Danny and Jim experience things that are interesting parallels of each other and I like to explore those narrative parallels," which I can understand being a kind of complicated distinction.

There definitely is a thing with both of these shows where they pick sort of Traditional Character Roles to some extent, like The Bully, The Hero, The Best Friend, The Romantic Interest, etc. So thinking in terms like that, Dash and Steve do fill kind of similar roles in their shows. I am pretty sure that Dash knows ghosts exist by the end of the show, even if you're writing off Phantom Planet (the final episode that people like to ignore happened). There's an episode where all the adults in Amity Park are brainwashed to go on a "cruise" which ends up just being a way for some ghosts to use them as a power source - but because the adults are brainwashed, the kids are the ones that have to save them, and Danny uses his parents' ghost tech to work together with all the other kids to fight the ghosts. This includes Dash. They all fight ghosts on the deck of a pirate ship, and Dash and Danny stand back to back as Dash says, "When I wail on you tomorrow, I'll be wailing on a hero. But I will be wailing on you." At this point in the show, Dash and other people know about and are fans of Danny Phantom... I don't think his memory gets wiped of the incident, but Danny does get in trouble for using the tech without asking and that makes him "lame" again in the eyes of the other high schoolers. I think that's meant to be the show's explanation for why it doesn't get brought up again later.

I'd love to consider what would happen if Dash had actually been more active within the ghost fighting community - I'm pretty sure he's one of those people who thinks it's "weird," so he'd probably need some convincing. But it would be super interesting if he learned that Danny was Phantom and joined the team! I'm not the first person to say this, but still. It would be cool. I did really enjoy in Trollhunters when Steve and Eli had just formed Creepslayerz but they were trying to keep it on the down low, and acted comically to cover their tracks. I imagine Dash would have to do something similar to keep his jock friends in the dark about Danny's secret... In general, DP never really gave us that big of a look into what Dash's life is like outside of school, other than throwing a party when his parents aren't around. If he joined the team in some way we'd be able to see more of his backstory and he'd become a much more fleshed out character!

And I know you didn't ask for my opinion on this, but I do wish that Steve had more development after the end of Trollhunters and 3Below. Like, he stopped bullying Jim and Eli, he got a girlfriend - and now we learn he's really scared all the time! And they make him kind of like a knight in Wizards but he's still like, terrified of everything, and bad at very simple tasks to an almost annoying extent. It makes me wonder if the trio really explained very much to him, because we didn't see any explaining happen on screen... and then it felt like they were hinting that Steve would learn some cool stuff from Lancelot, but that never happened. And WHY didn't Aja WARN HIM that he could become pregnant like that! That was so out of the blue too. I really liked how they had Steve develop as a character over the course of Trollhunters, so when he kind of stopped changing for most of the other TOA content, I was a little sad.

I guess this is just an appreciation post for bully characters that decide to become nicer. They deserve more love, for sure.

[chickenparm]

weekly reminder that i'm not dead, just workin' on myself!

[majorproblems77]

Ohhh man yall ain't ready for me to return to my whumping ways

I think I'm almost ready, ready to cause pain again.

:)

[chrimsone]

took a quick looksies at some Cayde dialogue to make sure I was writing him right, here's some interesting bits

I'm tempted to make this lil bit part of my character canon since my newest Warlock, Oasis, kept some kind of journal when she was with the exoscience.

I swear I've mentioned this before but I didn't see anything when scanning thru my blog, but this blurb really helps. reaffirm that I wrote Rin's pre-life right. she's technically a reef born but barely acts like it

[c0smiccom3t]

Ladies, gents and everyone in between with whatever gender you are,

My current hyperfixations.

Current Blorbo i love so much and also who i'm rooting for: