#cw: death discussion

[ofdragonsdeep]

9: Lend an Ear

To listen.

THIS CONTAINS MAJOR DAWNTRAIL PLOT SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE MSQ. You have been warned.

Ar'telan asks Erenville a question.

The air crackled around him as Ar'telan clambered across the rocks of Heritage Found.

He had been here many times now, but the atmosphere still unsettled him. He had hoped, the first time they had broken through Vanguard, that being under the strange dome would allay the nerves that always accompanied the open sky, but it hadn't. If anything, it had made it worse - the oppressive, darkening atmosphere brought the night of Dalamud's fall to life in stark recall, rather than providing a shield against it.

Still, he persevered. The worst of their troubles were over now, with Zoraal Ja's defeat and Sphene's subsequent demise bringing some measure of peace back to Tural, but that was far from the only issue. If anything, it had only caused more.

The people in the Outskirts ignored him, for the most part. Those that didn't recognised him somewhat as an honoured guest, but were more offput by his lack of a regulator than anything else. That suited him fine enough, if he were pressed to admit it. He was tired of being famous.

He had spent some small measure of time in Heritage Found casting wary lines into the water, when he hadn't been here on business. The fish were all cursed in one way or another, and many of them made his fingers tingle with electric charge when he pulled them from the line. It was with a bucket of catch pulled from the ruins of Alexandria that Ar'telan found himself now, though after his current diversion they would likely be returned to the river. There was not much worth eating in the rivers of the lightning-blasted wasteland, he had found, and less still of medicinal or practical use.

"You're late."

Erenville didn't look over as Ar'telan approached, the twitch of his ears the only indication that he acknowledged him at all. With a huff, Ar'telan put the bucket down between the two of them, and it was only with that sound that the viera turned his head.

"Sorry. The serpents in the ruins are very fond of fish, it turns out."

"Understandable. There's little else for them to eat." His tone was level and measured, the way Ar'telan had come to expect from him. He spoke more with his body language than his words, and that was no different today. His ears canted backwards, tense and unhappy, and his fingers were stiff from fighting the urge to clench them. Given why they had come here, that made sense.

"I did manage to get one of each species that I know of, though, like you asked," Ar'telan continued. "Unless the fish are also fond of fish, I suppose." Erenville glanced down at the bucket, eyes darting about as he counted them.

They weren't here for fish. But it had been a convenient excuse, for Ar'telan to give him the space he needed after their walk here.

"No, that seems to be what you promised." His eyes weren't on Ar'telan once more, staring instead at the distant Yyasulani aetheryte, the rotted train track that led to it. There was a strange symbolism in what had once been a slice of change, carved out of the land, being a symbol instead of its decay. Even if they repaired it, running the track through the ruins of Vanguard, would anyone want to use it?

Thirty years hadn't seemed like a long time, for a Viera. But it had been long enough.

Ar'telan lowered himself down onto the rocks, feet dangling over the edge of the cliff. In the distance, there was a sound like a thunderclap - whether from the incliment levin or the cry of a mutated beast, it was hard to say. Erenville was silent, and Ar'telan waited until the tightness had eased from his fingers before he tried to speak again.

"Tell me about Yyasulani."

"I think you've seen it for yourself," Erenville replied, voice curt.

"Not Heritage Found. Yyasulani. What it was."

Erenville did not flinch at the was, but he went taught for a moment. A breath, a shake of his head. He sat down beside Ar'telan, and looked away from him, as though to concentrate. Ar'telan chose to ignore the beginning of the tears he tried to hide.

Erenville did not talk much, but he had a veritable bevy of information on Yyasulani. He spoke about the plants he had discovered, and did not tell the embarrassing childhood stories of how he had encountered more than a few of them. Spoke about what the hounds had looked like before the levin had twisted them. Talked about the scalekin, similar to the ones that roamed Shaaloani, which had either been driven to extinction by the vastly changed climate or twisted beyond recognition. It was all quite matter-of-fact: statements of what was, why it had suited the former climate well, whether it had been cultivated or grew wild. Detailed descriptions of the diets of old creatures that bespoke a deep understanding of the way the land had moved, had nurtured each component part of itself. There was a yawning, empty void where the life had once been, replaced instead with the constant hum of lightning and the purple glow of electrope.

"The fish you've brought me will serve as the start of a catalogue of the new life here," Erenville finished, folding his arms. "I shall take them back with me to Sharlayan."

"And finding somewhere to put them will be Labyrinthos's problem?"

"It's only fair that the tables turn at times."

He got to his feet at that, Ar'telan scrambling up after him. There was a look in his keen yellow eyes. A detachment caused by melancholy.

"Is there somewhere else you'd like to go?" Ar'telan asked. In response, Erenville took from his pocket a small piece of metal and electrope, shaped a little like a hand.

"Her deeds are recorded with the others on the sepulcre at Worqor Zormor's peak," he said. "I couldn't carve her life here into the stone, but I would leave it there regardless." Ar'telan nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'll leave the fish with Donuhanu, then."

[loudclan-clangen]

Thinking abt how the kits would have absolutely zero grasp on the concept of mortality and death and how they'd be really confused on why their parents are upset and where Mothtree wen't :^)

Hi friend, I don’t want to be like a major downer but… Rosehipkit is VERY sick. She and Dogwood, more than any other kits, absolutely understand the concept of mortality and death in a way that they should not have to.

[read-write-thrive]

Hospitals had never been the favorite location of either of the Dead Boy Detectives, and they usually refrained from even approaching the premises when at all possible. In the early days of the agency, it was too risky— too many dying or newly dead individuals meant Death was nearly impossible to escape, after all. Even now, with an expanded agency under the influence of the Night Nurse, and as such without immediate risk of hell if they strayed too close to Death, they still tried to avoid hospitals out of habit and for the comfort of all involved—the boys never knew when someone might see them (and it never stopped stinging when someone suddenly did) and it wasn’t exactly easy for the girls to just walk into a hospital without rousing suspicion. It was easier in some ways, these years later, now that the girls were adults and less likely to be seen as truants, but that newfound freedom did not bring with it any sudden desire to see what they were missing behind hospital doors.

All this caution and hesitation was ignored when Charles tapped on the mirror to check on his parents and was met with an unexpected chaos. A heart attack, from what the paramedics were saying as they wheeled the old man out on a stretcher, Charles’s mother and their neighbor following behind in her car. Charles didn’t witness the incident itself, pure luck on the timing, but the aftermath was a flurry of commotion that left him reeling.

He wandered back to the main space of their headquarters (a bigger place than what it once was, courtesy of the girls’ tiring of the boys being unreachable during a crisis or two and deciding to go all in on a shared flat) in a daze. Charles didn’t hide his checking in on his parents anymore, but still preferred to do it alone. Thankfully, his friends were kind, wonderful people who were happy to leave him to it. Said wonderful friends, however, were also quick to notice something wrong.

“Charles?” Edwin, naturally, was the first to notice Charles’s return and immediately put his book aside.

The girls, engrossed in a new show on the other side of their living room, snapped up in their own ways.

“What’s wrong?”

“What happened?”

Charles swallowed down the mixture of emotions threatening to drown him, “It’s my dad, he’s had a heart attack.” He screwed his face up in an attempt to stop the tears that threatened to spill out. Why was he crying? The bastard made his life miserable—

“Good.” Crystal was the first to comment. Niko slapped at her arm. Crystal put her hands up, “What? He was awful!”

“It’s still his dad!” Niko protested, “You can’t just say that!”

Charles tuned out their bickering. Everything felt a little tuned out, actually. And then Edwin was in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“-love? Charles?”

“Hmm?” Charles tried to silence his whirring emotions.

“Are you alright?”

The Charles of even several years ago would have been quick to brush it all off with a smile. But he’d grown since then.

“Honestly? Not sure. Is that bad? Crystal’s right, he was a dick.”

“And Niko makes a very good point as well. He’s still your father.”

The tears were back again. Edwin pulled him in for a hug before Charles could say another word.

The girls had also quieted, alternating between watching the exchange and speaking through meaningful glances.

Niko was the one to break it, “Did you want to see him?”

The very idea shocked Charles, going rigid in Edwin’s arms.

“He might not even be dying, and going to a hospital is recipe for trouble—“ Charles responded slowly, as if waiting for someone to agree with him and take the weight of the decision off of him.

“I mean, a heart attack is probably close enough to death even if it doesn’t get him.” Crystal contributed.

“And our avoidance of hospitals doesn’t matter if you’d like to go see him. The Night Nurse’s lone positive trait is her protection from Death’s clutches, after all.” Edwin said into Charles’s curls.

“I-“ Charles gave himself a breath, “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“We don’t have to.” Crystal said softly.

“Yeah, we can just have our movie night and distract you, or if you want to talk to us but not go see him…” Niko backed her girlfriend up, trailing off into the silence.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Edwin echoed, sighing, “But I don’t want you to regret anything, either.”

“That’s true, it might be good for closure…” Niko chimes in once again, positive in the face of it all and determined to see Charles cheered up as well.

“Fuck that. You don’t owe him closure. If you don’t want to go, then don’t go.” Crystal’s anger was not what it once was, but she had her moments, particularly when abusers were the topic of discussion. Thankfully she seemed determined to keep her composure.

“Your call, Charles.” Edwin said, pulling away from the embrace but not letting Charles go just yet. He obviously had more to say, if the turn of his mouth was any indication, but he was all softness regardless.

“Could be my last chance, innit?” Charles said lowly, obviously not thrilled at the prospect, “If the bastard goes…”

Edwin’s face shifted, and Charles knew he’d guessed Edwin��s unspoken comment correctly. Still, Edwin’s tone and posture were the same, “No one expects it of you. And we’ll support you regardless of what you decide.”

Charles had a distant feeling of pride that Edwin had gotten better at this sort of thing. He’d tell him that another time. Once this was all over and the world made sense again.

After a moment of reflection, Charles sighed, “I think I’d like to go. Might help me heal or closure or whatever, yeah?”

The girls were up, pulling on their coats and shoes without a second thought. Charles felt monumentally lucky to have them.

Including the boy who held him still, voice low and meeting his eyes, “Do you want all of us with you? We can stay behind if you’d rather do this alone.”

Charles shook his head with his same sad smile, “I don’t want to think what might happen if I do all this alone, mate. Though you’ll have to forgive me if I lose my cool.”

Edwin clearly saw through the attempt at a joking diversion but smiled regardless, “Very well. Do you know which hospital we’re visiting?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s probably closest to their place, yeah?” Charles guessed, scrambling his thoughts trying to remember which hospital he’d been taken to when he’d broken his arm as a kid. It was so long ago, and so much had happened since…

Edwin once again shook him out of his thoughts, “Some investigation is in order, then. Niko? Crystal?”

“On it!” Niko chirped, already deep into her phone, Crystal close behind.

After some internet sleuthing, the girls had acquired the address of the nearest hospital to the Rowland family home and were taking the long way there while the boys readied themselves in front of the mirror.

“Are you ready?” Edwin double checked, hand outstretched.

Charles shook himself, “Not sure I’d ever be, love, but let’s get on with it.”

Edwin pulled him in for a quick kiss on the cheek, a sincere smile, and then through the mirror they went.

—-

They stepped out of a mirror in one of the many bathrooms in the hospital complex, disoriented by the amount of beings (alive and dead alike) as they tried to navigate the halls. The A&E department was the worst, with traumatic deaths creating a perpetual plethora of ghosts. Of course, this was also the first place they needed to check.

The boys held hands tightly as they went, both wound tight by the noise and the blood and the general atmosphere of the place. It was far from the most dangerous place they’d been in their decades together, but that brought little comfort in the face of it all.

Phasing through the various doors and curtains, it was ultimately clear that if Charles’s father was in this hospital, he’d been moved elsewhere. They split momentarily, with Edwin going to find a map of the hospital while Charles waited at the nurse’s station to see if he could get any leads on his family.

It soon became clear that there was simply too much going on for Charles to glean any real information, and he was ready to give up and find Edwin when the next phone call to the desk came from a familiar phone number and gave way to a familiar voice. Niko’s voice was clear on the other end, and just loud enough for Charles to overhear. The nurse gave the information with little questioning, informing all involved that Mr. Rowland had just been moved to a private room on a different floor. Charles didn’t stick around to listen to what exact department the man was in, or what the prognosis was—as soon as he knew the number he was off to find Edwin.

It was quieter in this department. Less urgent. Which meant something significant that Charles was pointedly not thinking about, less that send him into another tailspin. Thankfully Edwin’s presence was grounding beside him.

A nurse left the room as they found it, giving a glimpse through the doorway. Charles’s mother sat at his father’s bedside, accompanying neighbor at her side. They couldn’t see his father (or his father’s ghost for that matter) from their vantage point.

Edwin gave one last squeeze of Charles’s hand to get his attention, “I can give you a moment alone if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.” Charles tried to joke, but his voice didn’t seem to cooperate. Edwin’s eyes saddened, but he gave a firm nod and gestured for Charles to take the lead.

The man of the hour looked frail against the white sheets. He was awake, but by the look of his eyes he was definitely on his way out. There was a bulky mask over his nose and mouth, IV in his arm, heart monitor dragging along beside him. Charles's mother sat quietly, holding his hand between two frail ones of her own.

Charles didn't think his emotions could get any more complicated, and then his father's eyes found him. Then Edwin. Then back to him. He rasped behind the mask, Charles's mother shushing him gently.

"Hi dad." Charles sighed more than said, standing awkwardly at the foot of his bed and gripping Edwin's hand so hard he wouldn't be surprised if he managed to hurt him despite all the ghost technicalities.

Another rasp, this time accompanied by a frail hand gesturing towards the boys. Charles nearly slumped in relief when his mother glanced their way but returned to murmuring to her husband rather than reel back in shock. She had some time left, at least. His father, however, continued to try to speak.

Seeing his mother's distress, Charles felt himself snap into his protective mindset without thought, snarking, "Just give it up, mate. They can't see us—you're the only one dying here, so only you get the honour. Trust me, I'd rather talk to mum than you any day, but I cant say I'm too torn up about you going first. Maybe she'll get to have some happy years without you."

The man thankfully stopped his rasping, but his eyes emoted enough that Charles knew he heard him. It gave him the confidence to keep going, never quite sure what his next word was going to be but glad to say it anyway.

"Not that you asked, but I've been having a great time these last thirty, forty years. Yeah my death was awful, don't get me wrong. Kinda wish you got even a taste of that, for all the shit you put me through… Actually, do heart attacks hurt?" He turned his question towards Edwin, who had such a complicated expression that Charles immediately decided that the question wasn't that important, "Doesn't matter now, I guess. But yeah, my afterlife has honestly been better than my life ever was. Not only do I not have to deal with your bullshit, but I've also found people who actually care about me.

"Like this, right here, is Edwin," Charles swung their held hands upwards in an attempt at a wave, earning a slightly hysterical chuckle from Edwin, "He found me dying in that attic, showed me kindness as I died, and I've been by his side ever since. He's the best thing that ever happened to me—"

Charles took a breath as his voice cracked, Edwin's hand squeezing his in silent support. Charles didn't look over to try and keep it together a bit longer.

"He's the love of my—well, love of my afterlife. And I know you’d hate that, or at least hated all that when I was alive. I remember your rants about how all those people dying deserved it. Shouting at the telly like they personally offended you just by existing. Do you still think like that, all these years later? Hell, now here you are, dying on a hospital bed while your queer son laughs at you. What a twist!" Charles laughs, but it doesn't sound right even to himself. He, once again, pointedly doesn't look at Edwin. Looking at Edwin means dropping the brave face, and he's got a few more things to say first.

“You know, you’ll think this is weak or whatever, but I checked in on you and mum over the years. Neither of you could see me, and I never stuck around long, but I wanted—no, I needed to see. If I was the only one you beat, if you’d turn to mum now that I was gone. If you felt any remorse when I died. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I’d seen you raise your hand to her. Probably taken up Edwin here’s offer to haunt the shit out of you.”

“I never—“

“Not in those words, love, I know, I know. But you meant it like that and you know it. Anyway, thankfully I never saw it. And she didn’t cower like I did, or hide any bruises, so I figured you were safe there. As for remorse, well, never really saw that either. I was bitter and angry those first few years over that. Thankfully Edwin here kept me busy. And now I can’t really be arsed, especially now that you’re dying and I can’t find much remorse either. Angry it took you so long, maybe.”

Charles once again looked at his mother, at the tears on her cheeks and her face turned in silent prayer.

“Even if you never beat her, I still wish you’d given her more time without you. Did you ever visit her family? You shot it down every time she even hinted at it when I was alive. And she’d smile and move on like it didn’t hurt her to hear that the man she married hated her family that much. You know, I used to promise her that I would take her to see them again. I’d tell her that once I was grown up we’d run away and live in India where you wouldn’t care enough to chase after us. She’d swat me for that. Disrespecting you. It always came back to you. Which is just how you wanted it, right? The whole world revolving around you? So fucking glad I got out of there. I shouldn’t have had to die for that, but whatever. It let me live free of you. And soon enough I won’t have to worry about you at all.”

Shoes squeaked obnoxiously right outside the door. Charles glanced up just in time to see Niko giving him a thumbs up as Crystal pulled her away from the glass. Turning back, he was glad to see his mother hadn’t turned away from her husband. No need to confuse her or get the girls in trouble.

Charles sighed and turned back to his father, “Not really sure what else to say here. Edwin? Any ideas?”

Edwin thankfully took the playful question as seriously as Charles meant it, “Hmm. You could tell him about hell if you’d like to be especially vindictive. Or take the moral high ground and forgive him for all he did to you. Crystal and I would also be happy to curse him for all he did if you’d like. Literally or figuratively.”

Charles genuinely laughed at how his father’s eyes widened, “While that sounds tempting, he’s already on his way out. All we’d do is freak out my mum.”

Edwin gave him a soft smile, “Of course. Just a suggestion.”

He returned the smile and squeezed his hand in thanks before turning back to his father, “Right. Well dad, I’m glad I caught you before Death did. I won’t speak to hell or anything, don’t want to jinx it, but I hope you get what you deserve. I’m not going to stick around to find out. And I won’t forgive you, either. You were a right bastard and I still struggle with getting you out of my head even after literally dying. So you don’t deserve my forgiveness, honestly. I’ll keep an eye on mum, but that’s for her and my sake, not for yours. Probably won’t go to your funeral or any of that, either. I’ll be a little mad if they bury you next to me, but those are just bones by now so I guess it doesn’t really matter. Yeah. I think that’s it. No forgiveness, no love, just hope you get what you deserve and that I never have to see you again. That about sums it up.”

Edwin squeezed his hand again, drawing his attention, and speaking softly, “Does that mean you’d like to go? We can wait if you want to be sure.”

Charles once again felt overwhelmed with it all, particularly with how lucky he was to have Edwin. He didn’t want to start crying here, so he just nodded and pulled Edwin with him out of the room.

“How’d it go?” Crystal asked from her seat in the hall chair, Niko nodding next to her.

“He’s dying alright. Gave him a piece of my mind. But I’m ready to never think about him again, honestly.” Charles tried to make light of it, but it was clear none of them bought it. He blinked up towards the ceiling to keep the tears away just a bit longer.

“Once we get back to the apartment, expect plenty of hugs from us.” Niko informed him, eyes glancing down the hall at the others down the way.

Charles smiled, “Noted. Sorry to make you come all the way out here, guys.”

“Nope, none of that—“ Crystal started, but was cut off by nurses suddenly rushing towards the room, obvious some alarm or something had been pulled. The girls stood in a rush to get out of the way.

“We’ll see you back at the apartment!” Niko called back to the boys as they took their leave.

Edwin held his arm out, the way he did when he wanted Charles to feel especially cherished, “Shall we?”

Charles turned very purposefully away from the door and took the offered arm with a thankful smile. He would need to have a proper cry and rant and rave about all of this later, he was sure. He’d come to learn that all those complicated emotions don’t just go away when you ignore them. But, for now, he was happy to hold onto his partner and get the bloody hell out of this hospital.

~

EDIT: now with part 2 !!

[antimony-medusa]

So what kind of a dad is q!Phil anyways?

So, Phil getting Tallulah and Chayanne to wear armour and learn how to fight. Also Bad doing this with Dapper, and the Brazilians trying to do this with Richas, and the french with Pomme, but when it gets discussed, it's mostly focusing on Phil because of the contrast of Wilbur not wanting his kids to have to fight. There's some really fun discussion that comes up with that!

And the interesting thing is that when we're trying to pull up other cultural touchpoints to compare phil-and-fighting-and-the-kids to, a lot of the other characters have very specific vibes, so to speak. I was in a discussion the other day where someone compared Phil in this with the dad in Supernatural, and him getting his sons to follow him on hunts. Cause he's a dad training his kids to fight, right? From a very young age? However, I don't think this is a perfect comparison, and I wanted to share the one that comes to mind for me, despite the fact that it deals with some pretty dark topics. This whole post deals with some dark topics, you might want to check the tags, just so you know.

Anyways, I never watched Supernatural, so I didn't do much more than think emoji in the moment when this comparison came up. But I checked in with friends who have watched it, and I think Phil QSMP and John Winchester Supernatural are acting from some pretty different places. John Supernatural is teaching his kids to fight because they have a duty and a lineage and have to help save the world, but at the same time there's this tragedy there that implies that he's so focused on his duty as a hunter that he's not seeing that maybe you don't need the kids for that. They could start when they were older—or maybe they could not start this! He essentially conscripts them into a battle that shapes the course of their lives, as little warriors, and they never have a choice in it. And he's not above using them as bait, because they're warriors, right? The battle is so important? They want to be involved, they want this (of course they want this, you're their dad, and they believe you that this is important). He's a true believer.

Whereas Phil is faced with a world that actively and constantly wants to kill his kids, and he's trying to train them to defend themselves. He's trying to say that there's danger out there, you take care of yourself, I'm going to put myself on the line for you, but if I fail, if I'm not there, you won't be defenseless if it comes down to it. I have had my beef with fics that take on this topic, in fact, because I've seen people write Phil as using his kids as bait to get to the codes or forgetting his kids in his code battle, and that's not how I interpret the character motivattion and actions. For me, the way I see it, Phil is always thinking of how best to defend the eggs, and everything else is in service to this. He's a man with anxiety on an island that wants to kill his kids, not a warrior in an epic battle.

Does this mean that the eggs are gonna grow up and go to therapy about their childhood full of danger? Hell yeah they wll. This is not an ideal childhood. But— and this is the crucial thing— they're going to grow up. Same with Dapper, same with Richas, same with Pomme— living your life under constant need to teleport out to safety is bad, objectively, but when the alternative is living in the moment until you die, I think the teleporting out is better, actually.

And the comparison that comes to mind for me, because of my personal experience, is not examples in media of parents training their kids to fight, but examples in media or in real life of parents dealing with serious and or terminal illness in kids. Cause that's what my family did. And boy is there resonance there.

I don't know of any parent of a kid with cancer who likes putting their kid through treatment. Chemotherapy sucks, radiation sucks, surgery sucks, immunotherapy sucks, none of this is good. I have seen this tear up parents (and siblings) inside. But it's better than letting their kids DIE, isn't it? And before you say well, obviously everyone is on the same page when it comes to things like chemotherapy, I have *seen* people go out there and post at cancer families about how they can't believe they're putting poison in their children's bodies when they should just eat better, etc. (This take reminds me strongly of the "she shoudln't wear armour cause she shouldn't have to fight" take about Tallulah.) Serious illness in kids forces you into terrible situations, but the only saving grace is that they're better than the alternative, you hope.

The only thing that makes me go ehhhhh maybe with Phil and the Mr Supernatural is him letting Chayanne fight, but Chayanne is a kid being hunted whose sister (also being hunted) is disabled, and this happens whether or not Chayanne is involved, and he wants to try and defend her so bad. I don't think saying "let her die if necessary, don't intervene" is going to be a conversation that ends up with less trauma, if you know what I mean. That is simply a situation that has no real win conditions out of it. At least this way he feels like he has some control? (Note: this is a bad situation, there's no getting around it.)

QSMP is so often a story about forces beyond our control trying to destroy us, and while Supernatural and its ilk also has that tone, within Supernatural there's at least a population that doesn't have to be part of the battle, so opting into the battle becomes on some level a choice, and involving children in that is also a choice, one that you can hold up to the standards of allowing children to have a childhood and go "is this ethical". On Quesadilla island, there's literally no opting out of this fight. There are malevolent forces that are directly trying to destroy you, destroy your children, and the question of allowing children to have a childhood has been effectively taken out of your hands. You simply have to do the best with the situation you have, and have a birthday party while keeping the armour on. And this reminds me much more strongly of situations like childhood cancer, than it does of cases in media of people concripting their children into battle.

In both cases children are trying to fight malevolent entities that want them dead, as pushed to fight by their parents, but boy, at least to me, the tone is pretty different. I think the question of "is it self defense or did you choose to be here" is pretty important.

[estrogenism]

idk i wish people would talk more about papua when it comes to occupied nations.

free papua.

[lavendertrash39]

(CW for discussions of death. Spoilers for up to Chapter 85 of the Manga. There's now also some spoilers in replies and all of that so beware 😅)

shoutout to dungeon meshi for handling death in one of the most unique and interesting ways I've ever seen before.

I feel like it's really easy for when universes allow reviving to happen that life just like... loses its weight. Dungeon Meshi manages to have reviving and species that often mix that all have different life spans, and it's just... so impressive. It's so cool how it all ties together, and you realize as you go on, this has been a theme throughout the whole story.

Marcille has genuinely become one of my favorite characters because of her relationship with death. It feels like it just works so well. It doesn't feel like her feelings towards it came out of nowhere. It's always been there. It's rare for elves to be in parties. But she's in a party. She's in a party with people she knows are going to live not even 10% of her lifespan.

Just... that line. "You run faster than everyone else... so you're going to have to watch lots of people go away." Shit dude. That would've fucked me up so royally if I'd heard that about my own life when I was little.

Marcille's fucking desperation to extend her friend's lives because she can't stand the thought of the other 70-90 percent of her life span being without the people she loves. She's fighting tooth and nail against death because all she can think about is that backwards ticking clock on her friends' lives.

There's so much weight in life. Marcille is so desperate to keep her friends alive. I think a part of me actually shattered when Laios said "Besides, we've known all along how to stretch our life spans without the winged lions power." and they all say those three things Senshi had originally said... it's so simple.

It's acknowledging the fact that they aren't powerless under death. There isn't any ticking clock counting down that they have no control over... they just have to take care of themselves.

Marcille is still going to lose them. It is still going to hurt badly. But she has them now, they're doing what they can now. 100 years is far away, she can start to think about the now. She doesn't have to live according to a countdown.

Idk,, it just hits really hard. I really love this manga 😭

[strawberryseeded]

i wish we had gotten more of kugisaki nobara. i just watched dis vid and all my contained RAGE abt dis topic suddenly HIT ME LIKE A TRAIN GOD IM UPSET

ive talked like 32893882 times already (and its still NOT ENOUGH) abt how upset i was abt nobara's death cos she was such a good character, with so much potential!! i really REALLY liked her. she was funny, strong, confident and kind!!!! i loved her char design!! her cursed technique and weapon were cool as hell!!!!!!

and her (recently SOMEWHAT(?) confirmed(?)) death sucked so fucking much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

she was just. fucking fridged. as much as it pains me to admit it. from a narrative standpoint, she died so yuuji would get upset and further develop his character & then move the plot along. even mahito admits that he wants her to die to make yuuji suffer. like yeah he also recognizes her a strong opponent (ofc. cos she is) but at the end of the day he wanted to kill her just to wreck yuuji. and he succeded.

nobara has no say on the way she dies. she's just.. slapped, kinda. its so sudden. its so... weird. not that she's accepting of it (we already know that she knows she can die at any moment and she's ready for it (cos she's a freak like the rest of the sorcerers lol)), but its weird bc its like its not a personal moment for her. yeah we get a flashback & her speech about how, even tho she always was a person who refused to let other people affect the way she is and decides to live, there still are people who, by being accepting of her, managed to gain a place in her heart... and she's happy for that. its rly beautiful.

but its the impact her death has on yuuji what the story really cares about here.

and like. thats fine! im not even saying killing nobara is a bad choice or that its bad if her death also developed yuuji's character. but the way it was done, its like her death only had that purpose. its a way too transparent device, that's what i dislike abt it. i dont mind being upset bc a character i love dies? i like feeling strong emotions when i engage emotionally with art/stories.

but i think she was killed off too soon. we didn't get to properly say goodbye to her. both her character arc and her death were rushed.

she could have been developed so much more! it feels like she was taken away way too soon in the story. i wanted her to fight sukuna along the others. i wanted her to use her cool technique to help yuuji nail sukuna's soul. i wanted to see just how much stronger she could get. i wanted her to finally meet saori. I WANTED HER TO HAVE A COOL EYE PATCH!!!!!!!!!!!

why is she barely mentioned after she dies??? she was one of the 3 main, dude, are u kidding me? yuuji's the only one who mentions her but he's almost afraid of talking about her. its like the whole world forgot about her!!!!! and what about maki?????? werent they girlfriends?

what is nobara's LEGACY? why did gege not make her death matter in the narrative? even if she (for whatever reason) came back(??) at the end, id still be rly mad & sad abt it cos i wanted to see her DO STUFF!! i wanted to see her kick some ass!!!! i wanted to see her grow!!!!! to open up with others!!!!! I WANTED TO SEE MORE OF HER. IM SO UPSET I WANT OUT

[nelida-alvarez]

Tomorrow

@charliemwrites

I debated for some time whether or not I should post this, but in the end, my desire to share stories won.

Cw/Tw : mentions/discussion of losing faith (religious) & mentions/discussion of child death. Take care of yourselves <3

It was rare for Nélida to be uncomfortable. Sure, there were things that annoyed her, things that stressed her and things that made her afraid. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that- she was human, and it was in Men’s nature to feel, whether the emotions were positive or negative. Things that made her uncomfortable though? Things that made her skin crawl with unease and the desire to be anywhere else than where she was at the moment? Those were rare. Oh, they existed. And they made her soul tense up when mentioned.

“I don’t think that’s right, though…” Nova said, sprawled on the couch with Keegan as they argued. Nikto was sitting in a love seat, doing crosswords almost absentmindedly as he quietly listened to the sergeants talking. Castle was reading a book, not really paying attention. Meanwhile, Nélida was sitting on the ground in front of her Captain, her back leaning against his legs.

“No, I’m quite sure… It's like that thing with Adam and Eve, right? Banned from Paradise for touching the forbidden fruit or something.” Keegan replied.

“Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden to prevent them from eating from the tree of life, which would have made them eternal, not because they ate the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.” Nélida absently corrected, shocking the two sergeants into silence. Noting the absence of talking, she blinked and looked up, meeting the bewildered gazes of her team.

“What?” She asked, a bit confused.

“I didn’t know you knew so much about… Bible-y things.” Nova said, tilting her head in curiosity.

“Oh.. yes, I guess I just… never talked about it.” Nélida tensed slightly, her hands playing idly with Castle’s shoelaces.

“Are you Christian?” Keegan leaned forward, eager to know more about her. A small pregnant pause followed the question, broken by a shuddering breath Nélida took.

“…was.” She whispered. Nikto frowned, shuffling in his seat.

“Oh.. well, what is, or was maybe, your favorite Bible quote?” Nova frowned a little at Keegan’s question, eyes darting between his oblivious self and Nélida’s crisped expression.

Castle had put his book down, lips pursing at the tense atmosphere in the room. He let one of his big paw-like hands slowly come down to rest against Nélida’s nape, the weight reassuring.

Keegan, realizing his mistake, opened his mouth to apologize, before being cut off by the older woman.

“It..” she started, clearing her throat as her voice broke.

Nikto crouched down next to her, presenting his gloved hand, palm up, to her. Nélida took it, taking a deep breath, before starting to speak once more.

“It is… or was, perhaps, Isaiah 41:10." She admitted, clearing her throat once more.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Keegan started, before being cut off by Nélida throwing a small smile his way.

"It's fine, amor, you didn't know."

Silence reigned for a while, before Castle hummed.

"Well now, what do you all say we play a game, hmm? Anyone up for strip poker?"

As Nova got up to go take the cards, Nélida squeezed Nikto's hand in thanks and threw a grateful glance over her shoulder at her Captain.

~~~

Nélida prefered to be the big spoon when cuddling. She just liked that position better. But sometimes, she just wanted to be held, to feel like nothing could hurt her when she was safely cocooned in her lovers' arms.

Castle rumbled quietly, scratching at Nélida's scalp gently.

"What's bothering you so much, mamí?"

"...just.. memories.." The woman mumbled, her voice slightly muffled due to the fact that her face was burried in the older man's pecs.

"Wannna talk about it?" Castle gently asked, like she was a feral animal that was being cornered.

"...Perdí a mi bebé... Mi hijo- mi hijo sólo tenía dos años y- murió..." She erupted in cries, Nélida's body was wracked with sobs, the comforting weight of Castle's hands caressing her back seemingly ineffective.

"I prayed.. I prayed so fucking much-! And my s-son, my son still.. still-!" Nélida gasped breaths in as Castle grounded her, his voice in her ear telling her to breathe helping.

"Doctors said it was CNS tumors..that there was nothing they could do, that- that it was too late.. that I noticed it too late.."

"I just- I- I miss him so much.. I wondered, why God? Why my son?" Her voice broke on the last word, trailing off into whimpers and sniffles.

Castle hummed, pressing a kiss to Nélida's forehead. He didn't quite know what to say, but he knew that what Nélida had said had probably been weighing on her for quite some time.

It took a while for Nélida to calm down, her eyes puffy and red with her anguish.

"Thank you for listening.. I-.. it's probably not fair on you, but I really needed to talk about it.."

Castle smiled sadly, a thumb drying one of his mamí's tears.

"I know this was difficult to talk about, but I'm glad you let it off your chest, love. If you ever want to talk, know that I'm here. If you don't want to talk and just want someone to hold you, I'm also here." He said, gaining himself a wobbly smile.

"Thank you, Castle... I really appreciate it."

Thye both knew she would hide anything was wrong the next morning. That she would burry her feelings deep inside her heart until they rose to the surface again. But for now, they fell asleep. Tomorrow would be different.

"...Perdí a mi bebé... Mi hijo- mi hijo sólo tenía dos años y- murió..." : “…I lost my baby… My son- my son was only two and he-.. he died…”

~~~

Isaiah 41:10

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

[caterjunes]

two days ago i was ecstatic - peach had regained a ton of weight (back up to 460g from a low of 330!) AND his neck lumps had miraculously gone away. but today his bro lunchbox is breathing laboriously, not eating, barely moving, and looks like he's in pain & exhausted. 😖😖😖

[boatcats]

I did not find Izzy's death ableist in any sense. Before I saw the episode I did have a fear that they would portray him sacrificing himself for the crew because he was "too broken to go on" or some other ableist bullshit. But instead he dies at a point in his life where he's probably happier than he's ever been. That's what makes it so affecting! He has community, he has friends, he's valued and knows it. And all this happened after he lost his leg. His life was not only still worth living, it was more joyful. And he doesn't die sacrificing himself or due to his disability. He dies in a twist of fate during a dangerous situation.

I didn't read him telling Ed at the end that he wanted to go as suicidality. He was bleeding out already. Ed continuing to apply direct pressure to the wound might have kept him alive for a little longer but it was causing him significant pain. He preferred to go a little more quickly but much more comfortably in the arms of someone he'd finally made his peace with.

[enniewritesathing]

memory management (asystole)

⏮️Previous || (📚Previous Stories) || Beginning ▶️

(With a final rasp of breath, John collapses back on the exam table. He is still.)

(His empty gaze isn't fixed on anything. All he see is darkness rapidly closing in. The squeal of the monitor cuts out abruptly.)

(Charles looks down at the monitor, scrutinizing it for any activity. Ten seconds go by. Shit.)

Charles: "He's not getting out of it. Initiate protocol."

Bernard: "Char, I don't think--"

Charles: "We will deal with the consequences when we get there. Flush him out; we'll go until I say. Bernard, start CPR. Jordan, bag him. Daniel, flush him out and start adrenaline. Do not stop until I say."

"Get him back. Now."

(A strange feeling creeps up The Werewolf's back as he continues to look down at John's lifeless body. Of all the ways that he dreamed of getting through to John again, he never thought this would happen. Years of anger threatening to spill over into violence stopped. No, he shouldn't be angry at John. No, he is, he still is, but it is useless right now.

The Werewolf's survival, John's survival, their survival is on him and him only.

Even in death, there's a look of innocence to John. He is, but so is The Werewolf. Neither asked for this.)

(But that doesn't matter right now.)

"I'm..."

(The Werewolf stops himself short. Should he even apologize? For what? No, he should be grateful; yes, he'll be free for the rest of his days after this.)

"I don't know what's my true purpose, but the fact of the matter is that... I've failed to protect you. You suffered because of me. I should never ask you to sacrifice yourself. For that, I'll be forever grateful for the trust you've put in me. I'll do what needs to be done so that we can live in peace."

"So that I can be free."

"Thank you."

// Next?⏭️

[tallsc]

AvA Red Character Analysis

In AvA and AvM, it's common for the Color Gang to have an intuitive, almost mind-reading-level awareness of their friends in a fight, right? We've seen the masterful level of coordination between them all in tight situations, it's a skill all the sticks have. But I've noticed Red seems a little more intuitively aware of their friends than the others are, and that both leads to one of their greatest skills, along with what may be their greatest flaw.

Red might not be the best at building, or make the smartest decisions *coughmilkbucketclutchcough* but they are an incredibly quick thinker and can tell in just a moment what their friends need, to the level of seeming to gain skills by just interpreting what others need them to do.

Let's start with Monster School as an example for this. The way Red took charge wasn't to just do everything themselves, they would always quickly come up with a plan to help the monsters beat each challenge. Getting Enderman to attack Red, throwing Spider at Orange Team so they could all continue, even recognizing that Skeleton needed to use a bow in a different way to aim better. Red isn't even an archer, but they recognized in just a moment that Skeleton wasn't entirely bad at shooting, they just needed to use a bow differently than normal.

But hey, that might just be a stick thing, right? I did say before that all sticks were very good at intuitively recognizing other's needs. But no, Red continues to have this tendency to be a little quicker than the rest on other episodes too. There's a trend in a lot of the Animation Vs something-that-isn't-minecraft where, if someone (usually Orange) asks for something, Red's the first to understand and respond - shown by opening fullscreen in Vs Arcade Games and starting a new game in Vs League of Legends. Plus, speaking of arcade games, Red's not even good at these games but still was great at helping Yellow save Green in the Tetris section. Maybe they're just better at Tetris than they are at Breakout, but this seems like a bit of a trend.

There's more little examples I have in mind, but I think the point is across. Red's a quick thinker, and good at immediately recognizing what other people need them to do, so they're a very good support for their friends in a fight - no wonder their preferred weapon is a shield. But hey, at the start of this, I said this was also a flaw, right? All of this seems pretty helpful so far, so what is this flaw?

So, the problem with Red's skill is that they don't really realize that others aren't as good at adapting to abrupt changes as they are. This seems a little counterintuitive, but there's a difference between recognizing what people need them to do and recognizing how people feel, Red's very good at the former and sometimes not so great at the latter.

To explore this, let's go back to Monster School. While that episode was absolutely Red's time to shine, it also showed us this same flaw. At the last challenge, Red threw Spider off a cliff so they could use their webbing to get the Yellow Team in the air. While Red's plan did work out in the end, Red seemed to expect everyone to understand immediately, when none of the monsters actually did. Spider just panicked for a moment before catching themselves on the way down, while Enderman and Skeleton took it as a hostile action, which... is understandable, considering Red just threw their friend off a cliff. But Red didn't show any indication that they realized how their action looked to anyone else. They just expected the monsters to understand like Red would, casually waving them over instead of making any attempt to calm them down and explain.

Now, all of this together makes Red seem impulsive at a surface level, maybe a little rash and reckless. And yes, that is partially true, but it's also just that Red quickly forms ideas of what should be done about a situation, and expects their friends to catch on quickly and back them up. So they rush to start games, because after all, most of their friends like a good adventure, and it'll probably happen anyway. They spontaneously color all the block textures black and paint them, because it's faster than fixing them and will get Yellow out of trouble. They...

...rush into battle against a known enemy. Because they know a battle's inevitable. And they think their friends know that too.

This scene was always incredibly painful, but thinking about this analysis made it hit even harder. Red wasn't trying to be reckless, they just knew that Dark was a threat. They started the fight and expected their friends to follow and help too. But nobody did. Red acted a little too quickly, assumed a little too much, and died for it.

And they were gone before they saw their friends step in to help.

Well, if you read through all of this character ramble, thanks! I hope you enjoyed - well, idk if enjoyed is the right word considering that last part - but I hope you found this interesting at least. I really like making analyses like this (if you've also seen my Deltarune your-choices-don't-matter analysis too, you probably guessed) so I'm very likely going to make more.

Edit: 1 this has become so much more popular than I thought it would be, thank you so much everyone, 2 I have some commentary (and a drawing) relating to this analysis after episode 30 so here ^-^

[twisted-tales-told]

.

[tacagen]

hunter zolomon, what in the ever loving fuck is going on in your head.

i absolutely fucking love the way he spent so much time working with thawne, had access to every single bit of info in the museum's archives, claims to be an even better flash expert than thawne, SURELY has to KNOW how much of a time altering genius he is from numerous examples (and i doubt any of the 2 epic cringefails are now known to anyone but thawne himself) but still questions eobard's intellectual abilities even more than me here.

hunter. bestie. please name one single thing you were right about besides the clown. please

[atherix]

16 from your spotify wrapped ^-^

OH MY GOD you have no idea how many times I've debated putting this on my Midnight playlist :)

Mumscarian for the soul, specifically Midnight Mumscarian.

--

"Scar?"

The Elf tenses up before relaxing, raising his gaze to look at Grian.

"Hey, Birdie," Scar greets him, giving him a tired smile. Grian goes to him and Scar almost instinctively opens his arms to him. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"I had that dream again," Grian tells him, pressing his face into the groove of Scar's shoulder. "You know the one I told you about. With the water."

Scar breathes out softly and holds him close. "I know," he says, letting go when Grian pulls back to look at him. Grian studies him closely.

"You look tired," he notes, gently running his talons through Scar's hair. Scar leans into his touch, closing his eyes.

"Had a little overload, couldn't get back to sleep," Scar tells him quietly. Grian chirps to him and Scar chuckles. "I know..."

"It's getting worse."

"I know," Scar repeats. "That's how it happens, though. To be expected."

I'm dying, Grian hears though Scar doesn't say. Of course it's getting worse.

Grian leans against him again. "I don't know what I'll do without you," Grian admits quietly, and Scar stills.

A few seconds of silence pass before Scar says, "You and Mumbo will have each other, and you'll move on."

Grian's feathers fluff up at the words. "Excuse me?" he squawks, backing away again. "What is that supposed to mean?!"

Scar raises his hands. "Bad wording! Bad wording!" he insists, and Grian huffs. "I meant- that's what I want you to do, Birdie," he explains, slowly standing up out of the chair. He leans on the desk as he does, the exhaustion of an overload and little sleep weighing heavily on him. "I want you," he continues, reaching over and cupping Grian's cheek, "and Mumbo to go on and live the best life you can. And know that you two have made these last years the best they've ever been."

Grian's wings droop at the words, his indignation fading as fast as it had flared up. "I don't know if we can, darling."

"You will. For me." Scar gives him a weak grin and Grian feels his heart break just a little more. "Besides, you know better than anyone else that there'll come a day when we'll meet again. On the other side of that sea you always dream about, right?"

"Right," Grian croaks. "I wish I knew how to save you."

"Aw, Birdie," Scar says softly, smiling- really smiling- at him. "You already have."