#do we care about spoiler tags this many years later?

[marmolita]

thinking today about episode Ardyn since I finally played it, but I'm not thinking about Ardyn, I'm thinking about Verstael Besithia. Here's a dude who "rescued" Ardyn for his own diabolical purposes, then kept him locked up for months while he wore down his resistance until he was willing to turn fully evil.

and Prompto is a clone of this guy.

clearly there's nature vs nurture and DNA isn't everything but gosh!!! what does Prompto have that he shares with Verstael via their DNA? honestly the most disconcerting thing in ep Ardyn is having to see Prompto's face acting very much not like Prompto.

but anyway does Prompto have dark tendencies he has learned to suppress? did Verstael love chocobos?? is Prompto excellent at science? what do they actually have in common here?

if Prompto mostly grew up on his own, did he have good influences from somewhere or did Verstael have bad influences?

leaving side the other main thing about ep Ardyn that introduces a massive glaring plot hole into all of ffxv in that somehow Noctis appears to be unaware that Adagium is a thing and escaped and is working with Niflheim. like I get that maybe they wouldn't know what Ardyn looks like bc he was disguised but the fact of his existence??? is this not crucial information for a chosen king to have???

and that is why I generally summarily dismiss episode Ardyn from the canon I use in my fic tbh

[sunnie-angel]

Words Left Unsaid

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason todd is your childhood best friend. he dies before his Words come in, the first words his soulmate will say to him, and you have to pick up the pieces.

tags: soulmate au, major character death (temporary), grief

rated mature | wc: 8.8k

a/n: so this monster of a story was based on an ask i sent to @jasonsmirrorball a while back (don’t read for spoilers). it pretty much took on a life of its own, and now here we are nearly 9k later. it does get pretty dark in its exploration of grief, so please take care of yourselves my lovelies.

Everyone’s born with Words somewhere on their body, unreadable at first. The skin is shiny, like an old scar, the words blurry and undefined. One day, you’ll see the first words you’ll ever hear your soulmate say to you, that shiny patch of skin blooming like ink (there’s superstitions about the colour your Words fade into, as popular as astrology). The trick of the thing is, you won’t find out what your Words are until you’ve become the person who is meant to hear them. You could meet your soulmate a hundred times and not know it, not until you’ve both grown into the people you need to be. The youngest person to get their Words was seven, and the oldest 92 years young. Or so the stories go. When you’re young, still poking at your loose front tooth with your tongue, it’s a story that comforts you. It’s the story you beg your parents for before bed every night. It’s the carrot they use to get you to try new things and go new places. What if you meet your soulmate at the new movie theatre downtown? How do you know eating your veggies won’t develop you into who your soulmate needs you to be?

It’s what your mother uses to try and coax you out of the car for your first day at a new school. She’s driven you to school for your first day, a one off so she can finish up your admittance paperwork. In this moment you hate her for it. It’s February and the year is more than halfway over. The snow has melted into dirty grey slush in the streets and the pinching Mary Janes the school mandates as part of the uniform are going to provide no protection. It’s halfway through the year and you’re certain no one is going to be your friend at a new school in a new city. You’re twelve years old and to you this is the end of the world. You’re trying so hard not to cry, hugging yourself together and burying your chin in your chest.

“Come on, honey, this is a school. It’ll help you become who you need to be.”

Your mother’s voice is cajoling, trying to coax you out the same way she coaxed a stray cat into her arms. It worked on the cat, now named Haley after the comet, but it doesn’t work on you. She tries to catch your eye in the rear view mirror but you stubbornly turn your head to look out the window instead.

“Please. Work with me here. We’ll go in together, you’ll have a wonderful day and make so many friends. And after school, I’ll take you out for donuts and you can tell me all about it before your Dad gets home.”

You keep silent, continue to stare out the window at all the other kids walking into the building.

“Honey, please. Can you just do this one thing for me, please.”

She’s almost begging now, and you hate the way it makes her sound. You want to tell her how scared you are, how there’s nothing more you want to do except huddle under your covers in your unfamiliar bed and hold Haley close. But your fear is a hot ball in your chest, choking off any words that might come out. You look at her though, plead with her with your eyes to understand how much you don’t want to do this. She stares back at you, an exhausted slump to her shoulders and lines around her eyes you don’t remember being there. Slowly, you unwrap your arms from around your rib cage. Place a hand on each knobbly knee and slowly curl them into fists before nodding, once, sharply, eyes firmly fixed on the car seat in front of you. Your eyes burn, but the sigh of relief your mother heaves out is worth it.

Gotham Academy is housed in a collection of gothic stone buildings which should have been strange in a large city like Gotham but weirdly works. You just think it’s creepy. Head down, you follow your mother’s back weaving through the crowds of students. You don’t want to see the stares, but you can already feel them boring into you. Sitting in the secretary’s office, you pick at invisible lint on your knitted tights. You know your mother’s having a conversation with the secretary but it all flies over your head in shushing murmurs. Your back aches from the overstuffed chair. The Mary Janes do pinch, makes you worried that you’ve already twisted your ankles from the way they throb.

“I’ve got to get to work now sweet pea, but I just now you’re going to have a great first day. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 and we can go get those donuts okay?”

Your mother’s crouched down in front of you, eyes searching your face for any kind of reaction. She looks worried and that’s what causes you to crack. You fling yourself out of the chair and into her arms, allow yourself one great heaving sob into her shoulder. She strokes your hair and hushes you, squeezes you tight like she could make you part of her.

“Oh honey. Everything’s scary right now but I promise it’s not going to stay that way. I believe in you and you’re going to get through this.”

You draw back from her, scrub at your face with your fists. Heaving breaths don’t help but they don’t make it worse. You go with the secretary, new schedule twisted tight in your hands. She lets you discard your coat and backpack in a locker, before walking you to your new homeroom. You only hope that you’ll remember the locker combination.

You hate the way your new homeroom teacher makes you stand at the front of the room. Mr. Mulligan won’t let you sit down until you introduce yourself to the class, a thing he could have done so easily himself. Pulling at your sleeves and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, you stutter out a few basic facts. Hate the way you can feel the other students catalogue you, the way your hair doesn’t look shiny and straight like its fresh out of a salon, your too small shoes, the unfashionably long length of your skirt and the lack of designer accessories. Your cheeks and eyes are burning by the time you can slide down into your assigned seat near the back of the class. There’s only one other person sitting in your row, a boy with dark curling hair and a shy grin. He leans over to your desk just Mr. Mulligan starts the lecture.

Whispers, “Hi! My name’s Jason. I already know your name, figured if we’re going to be seat mates its only fair you know mine.”

You smile tightly and turn back to the lesson. You’re desperate not to miss anything, already feeling like you’ve been left behind. At your old school, you were in the middle of The Great Gatsby, but Gotham Academy is doing Romeo and Juliet for their seventh grade English class. You don’t have the play book, have no idea what part of the text they’re talking about, and this is the first time you’ve actually heard Shakespeare read out loud. Writing as fast you can, you try to keep up but it doesn’t matter how good your notes are if you don’t understand what the teacher’s talking about.

Usually you love English class, how uncovering symbolism and hidden meanings make you feel like you’re uncovering secret messages sent by the authors years in the past. Now it’s all going over your head and you hate it here so much already. The one class that you might have been looking forward to and you’re overwhelmed by it. You press too hard with your pencil, tear through the sheet of paper in front of you.

A notebook slides across your desk. Messy but legible writing on the first few scenes of the Act are written on it. Looking in the direction it came from, you make eye contact with Jason. He grins toothily before turning back to the front, Mr. Mulligan having moved on to a different quotation. The gesture makes your chest tight.

The rest of the class goes by uneventfully if still a challenge. There’s a short break between classes in which you frantically copy down the notes and slide the notebook back to him before your next teacher arrives. The next class isn’t so bad, still difficult and you’ve never liked math as much as you probably should, but it’s less intimidating than English. Someone must have fiddled with the thermostat during the break because the room feels colder than before. You wish you were on your old school’s schedule with shorter classes and more breaks. Sitting still for so long at your desk is making your back ache and cramp up. Math is almost over, Miss Lewis writing out the assigned homework on the board, when a wave of something comes over you. It’s an effort of will not to curl up on your desk.

The bell rings for lunch break and you just about bolt to the first bathroom you can find. Something’s wrong with you, more than just nerves over the first day. You’re cold but you’re sweating, nausea burning at the back of your throat. The ache in your back and stomach are almost unbearable, makes you want to curl into the fetal position to ward off invisible blows. Rolling down your tights in a hurry, you sit down on the cold toilet as fast as you can. Your hand is wet, and for a moment you worry that you’d lost control of your bladder on the way to the bathroom. But the stain on your hand is dark, matches the blood slick crotch of your panties. You hang your head and can feel the tears you’ve been holding onto all morning drop onto the floor. Just another thing you can’t control in this shitty new town and its stupid new school. Your first period.

The bathroom is cold, hard tile under your feet and wintery sunlight weak through the windows near the ceiling. The blood on your fingers is cold and tacky now. There’s a boundary here, between childhood and being an adult that you aren’t ready to cross yet. I want my mom, you think, only on the edge of hysteria. But she’s at work, wouldn’t be able to come if you called.

So you do what needs to be done, stop your tears as best as you can and sniffle. Wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and do your best to dab at your underwear with the single ply toilet paper. Layer sheets of toilet paper between your tights and underwear, build a makeshift pad in your sort-of dry underwear out of toilet paper and hope that it will hold up. Luckily you’ve escaped staining the regulation uniform skirt, so no one should be able to tell what happened. You get transfixed by the swirls of blood washing down the sink drain, hands gone numb under the stream of water. Splash cold water on your face in the vain hope it’ll calm down your puffy eyes. As ready as you can be in this situation, you eye yourself in the mirror and tell yourself to get moving before the bell for third period rings.

The boy from the back row is waiting outside the classroom for you. He looks nervous until he sees you, lights up with that shy smile again.

“Hi! I uh noticed you weren’t at lunch today so I grabbed you an apple in case you didn’t grab anything to eat.”

He’s babbling on about the cafeteria food not being that bad if you’d just try it, even though finding a table the first time can be rough. All you can do is stare at the apple in his hands, transfixed. You’re only shaken out of your stupor by the sound of him calling your name.

“So… are you going to take it? The bell’s going to ring soon and the teachers really don’t like us eating during class.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely shocked and touched.

He goes a little bashful at that, looks away as you take the apple from him. The apple’s good, sweet and crisp under your teeth. You make quick work of it in the hallway, finishing it up just as the bell rings. Jason stands right in front of you the whole time, hides you from the penetrating eyes of your classmates.

“All done? We should probably find our seats now. Monty,” and here he adopts a snooty British accent, “Archibald the Third is a real stickler for being on time. He’ll mark you late if you’re not sitting in your seat, even if you’re in the classroom.”

His impression makes you snicker and forget, just for a moment, how miserable you are. Mr. Archibald the Third is just as ridiculous as Jason’s impression of him predicted, but you get through it by making eye contact with Jason over the most ridiculous moments. Mr. Archibald really does have you call him “the Third”. It’s probably got something to do with his Words, a flowing script running vertically down the side of his face reading, “The Third, dear God how many of you are there?”. History with Mr. Archibald manages to be fun despite his absurd demeanor and your own private hurt seeming less terrible for a few scattered moments.

The final class of the day drags on, the pain in your front and back growing. Your hand moves across the page but your mind isn’t really paying attention. There’s a commotion as people gather their things and stand, already streaming out the door. You blink, stupefied, then slowly gather your things.

“Same time, same place tomorrow then?”

“—Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow Jason.”

Your mother’s waiting for you in front of the school, car idling puffs of smoke into the darkening afternoon. Your backpack lands in the back seat and you crush your face into her coat across the console. Her hands come to your back, patting and rubbing circles until your breath comes in long, even draws.

“Honey I’m so proud of you. Your first day done! Let’s go celebrate, hmm? How was it? Did you make any new friends?”

“Can we get the donuts to go? I— uh, um I— I might have started my period today?”

Your voice lifts on the end of the sentence, suddenly absurdly worried about her reaction. You needn’t have worried though.

“Oh sweet pea, on your first day too? We can go home, get you a bath and something for your cramps.”

“No, I just really want to go get donuts with you because today kind of sucked and I’ll still feel kinda shitty but at least then I get donuts while I feel bad.”

“No more swearing and we’ll get a whole box to go, okay?”

Lying in bed that night, wrapped around a hot water bottle with Haley on your feet, you think that your day wasn’t that bad. It could have been a lot worse, and Jason was surprisingly nice. You stare at the shiny patch of skin on your wrist and hope that one day it will all be worth it. You drift off to the thought of blue eyes.

For the rest of that week you join Jason at his corner in the cafeteria. Between Math and History you slowly start to get to know one another. He offers to let you borrow his notes for the upcoming test in English, gets a little sheepish when he mentions that he practically knows the content by heart anyway. Jason’s sweet and funny and by Friday you two are the best of friends.

Once your mother is confident that you can handle the commute to school on your own, she doesn’t mind if you’re home late as long as you send a text first. Something about socializing with more kids your age being good for you, not that you’re listening too distracted in the haze of victory. So the two of you hang out after school, the city your shared playground. Jason treats you to your first chili dog and laughs when you get some on your nose. In revenge, you dare him to cover his lunch in chili oil at lunch the next day. The way Mr. Archibald threatens you both with detention for being disruptive is so worth it.

It’s not until the middle of April that you get the courage to ask Jason why you. Why out of everyone in the school he chose to reach out to the new kid and make her his friend. It’s probably the most personal thing you’ve asked him yet.

“It’s ‘cause no one else would’ve. Most of the kids here, their families founded Gotham and they’re not keen on outsiders. Most of the scholarship kids, they start at the same time, form a group so the rich kids don’t pick on them so much.” He pauses here, has to look away before he goes on. “Most of the others don’t like me ‘cause I don’t really fit into either category, you know? Like my dad’s a big name in Gotham but he only just adopted me so I’m not really one the rich kids but he’s doing more than just paying my school fees. You looked just as lonely as I was,” here he turns to grin, “and I wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to make someone carry my lunch tray.”

“Hey, idiot, if I remember right it was you bringing me lunch the first time.” You shove at him indignantly, but he dodges too quickly for you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember, on account of me being an idiot.” He flicks you on the tip of the nose and goes running.

And then it’s on. You chase him around the park, laughing and swearing to get your revenge on him. The two of you collapse breathlessly onto a mostly dry patch of dirt under a skeletal tree. Staring up at the sky and trying to catch your breath, you feel Jason nudge at your should beside you.

“So what about you? What brought you to the happiest place on earth?”

“My dad got headhunted for a promotion. He’s researching something for Wayne Industries and all of us had to move here for it. So mom gets a new job and I get transferred to a new school.” You sit up suddenly, look down at Jason lying in the grass. “Promise not to tell anyone?” You wait for him to nod first before continuing. “I only got into Gotham Academy because of my dad. I heard him and my mom arguing about it; he made it part of his contract that I’d get to go to school there if he accepted the job.”

“So? I’m only at GA because of my dad too. You think a kid from Crime Alley gets to go to private school without a little nepotism?”

You slump back down on to the grass, stretch a hand out to the sky and look up at it.

“To nepotism I guess.”

A hand reaches up to the sky next to yours. Slowly, ever so slowly he reaches a pinky out and links it with yours.

“To two misfits only here because of nepotism.”

School lets out in June, the city air ridiculously hot and humid. You can’t say that you’ve made any good friends outside of Jason, but there’s some girls you say hello to in the halls. You mourn not being able to see Jason everyday, but the plans you have to meet up are enough to soothe the ache.

He takes you to an arcade first, the two of you spending hours trying to beat each other at Pac Man. Tired but happy you split a basket of fries at the attached cafeteria. You’re enjoying the greasy fried goodness of the snack but you notice Jason isn’t reaching for the basket as quickly as you are. Looking over at him, you notice him staring at a pair of brothers playing a game. The younger whoops, jumps up and down in excitement. The older one ruffles his brother’s hair and challenges him to a new round. You toss a fry in Jason’s direction, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.

“You good?”

“—Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it? But I kind of have an older brother and he was supposed to take me to the arcade last weekend but he got in a fight with Dad and just left.”

“That’s a real dick move, ditching you over his issues.” At that, Jason breaks out in hysterical laughter, almost choking on the fry in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops coughing but he looks slightly less like a kicked puppy.

“It really, really was. You don’t know how much it was.”

Happy that the mood has lifted, the two of you finish off the basket of fries. You challenge Jason to Dance Dance Revolution and he wipes the floor with you. He’s way more athletic than you’d expected from him. The two of you part ways happy, already planning your next hang out. It is enough.

You meet up almost every week that summer. Jason shows you the Gotham he knows, little hidden gems only locals know about. A movie theatre that only shows movies made before 1980, a diner with the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, the best places in the public library to read undisturbed. Teaches you about the safest places to evacuate when disaster hits, which parts of the city are most dangerous. The park and its chili dog stand quickly become a favourite for you, a place to just hang out without any responsibilities. It also becomes a kind of confessional of sorts, where you end up telling each other your worst fears and secret hopes.

You confess once, after riding out your first Rogue attack with your fingers buried in Jason’s T-shirt, that you’re worried you’ll never feel at home again. That you can never go back now to your old house and feel at home there now, but that Gotham still feels too alien to be called home yet. Your darkest fear, that you’ll end up alone one day, deserted by everyone that you know and love. Jason tells you about his fears that one day all of this, Bruce and Alfred, the manor, school, will disappear one day. That the big brother he looks up to will never start to like him. Every time the two of you bare your souls to each other, Jason will hook his pinky over yours and squeeze. It’s a friendship built on shared secrets, on fears assuaged, and worries made better.

Your last year of middle school is largely uneventful. You got to classes, have lunch with Jason, hang out after class with Jason, text Jason. You get into a routine and that brings you comfort. There’s a slight period of awkwardness right before the 8th grade formal. A weird tension envelopes you both, the nebulous question of if you’re going together hanging over you. You don’t like it, the way Jason seems almost hesitant in all your conversations these days. It sets your teeth to itching and you can’t stand it anymore.

Slamming down your textbook, you say “Okay that’s it. I can’t stand whatever this is. You and I are going to the formal as friends. We’ll get all dressed up and if it’s lame we can ditch and go get Batburgers.”

“Oh thank God. I didn’t want to say anything in case it made it awkward but then it was just getting more awkward and then I just didn’t know what to do.”

The party is lame, but the burgers make up for it. Your dress is nice though. Your mother helped you pick it out, the fitted bodice and loose swing of the skirt making you feel passably pretty. It’s been hard to feel pretty with the way your body’s changed over the year, hips widening and chest starting to grow in ways you can’t predict. Jason cleans up nice, though whoever slicked back his hair went overboard on the gel. You pose for a picture all dressed up together, faces pulled into silly expressions, your burgers held in front of you like trophies. You pin a copy of the photo up in your bedroom. It makes you smile every time you see it, something warm in your chest.

The first day of high school brings back those first day jitters. You’re not even transferring schools, just switching to a different building and still your palms are sweating. It’s not until you see Jason, sitting in the back row with an empty seat behind him that you can release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s different teachers and different subjects, but in some ways it’s like the day you met again. Scribbling notes until your hands cramp, Jason passing you notes in class, struggling to keep up with what the teachers are saying. At lunch, you and Jason even split an apple between you. It’s terrifying and familiar and all the more bearable because you aren’t going through it alone.

High school is different. Everyone’s more aware of each other in ways they weren’t in middle school. Girls wear brighter lip glosses and flaunt the shiny spaces where their marks will come in. Boys douse themselves in too much body spray and start eyeing up anything that moves. But through out it all, your friendship remains the same. Something about high school solidifies things, has you go from You and Jason to YouandJason. At school you’re a unit, almost impossible to think of you as separate beings. After school, you still spend time together, still explore the city, still message all the time. But you’ve still never been to each other’s houses. Never met each other’s families yet.

Jason offers, once, to have you over to the manor during the winter break, but you’re not keen on it. Crinkle up your nose and ask to think about it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you over the holiday, or meet your family Jason. It’s just that I kind of like the way things are? My family knows that you’re my best friend, they’ve seen pictures of us, but the way things are now, you’re still entirely mine. Our friendship’s just for us. Meeting your family kind of changes that.”

“I like us being us. But would it really be that different to come hang out for a few hours? You could come over when Dad’s out and it’d just be me and Alfred.”

Eventually you agree, spend an afternoon with Jason at the manor to cram for your next round of tests. Mr. Pennyworth is lovely, keeps bringing snacks up to the library as an excuse to check up on you. Bent over your books, you miss the significant looks Alfred is sending Jason over your head and the blush that lights up his face in response. Mr. Wayne is thankfully not home. You’re not sure you could have handled meeting Jason’s grandfather and father in the same visit.

Jason makes it over to your apartment a few times over the spring semester. Your father’s always working, but your mother likes him well enough. She makes him stay over for dinner, won’t let him leave without feeding him first. She calls him a nice boy and tells him to come back any time. Still, you two prefer going out to coffee shops or the library to hang out, uninterrupted by well-meaning adults.

It’s on one of those summer nights, the two of you some of the last people in the public library, that the subject of your Words comes up. The skin across your left wrist catches the warm light of the lamps in a way that’s distracting. You’re startled by the feeling of fingers tracing featherlight over still-shiny skin.

“You ever wonder it about it sometimes? What it’ll say or who’ll say it?” The tone is unreadable but Jason’s voice is above the whisper he usually uses in the library, but with so few people around you figure there’s no harm in mimicking his volume.

“I used to. I was obsessed with Words when I was little. Couldn’t go to sleep without hearing about them as a bed time story.”

“Used to?” And Jason’s fingers are still there, drawing maddening little patterns across the thin skin of your wrist.

“Well, I’ve got other things to think about now, things that are actually within my control.”

Jason presses down, gently, with the broad of his thumb on your pulse. You snatch back your wrist, cradle it to your chest, uncertain of how intimate that gesture felt.

“Fair’s fair. I showed you mine, now you’ve gotta show me yours.” Your tone is teasing, trying to capture the earlier lightness of the afternoon.

“Oh I do, do I?”

He reaches for the top button on his uniform button down, starts undoing two more. Horrified, you reach across the table and grab at his hands.

“What are you doing?! You can’t just go around stripping in public!” Your hissed whisper may not have been said at all for all the impact it makes. Jason shakes off your hands and goes back to undoing his shirt.

“Not all of us are blessed with easily accessible Words. Relax, I just have to get the shirt wide enough to show how far the Words will go.”

Across his collarbone is a thin strip of shiny skin, reaching from one side of his neck to the other like a necklace. Whatever it will say looks pretty lengthy for someone’s Words. Mesmerized, you reach out to trace it with your fingertips. Jason shifts back before you can make contact.

“Gotta buy me dinner first sweetheart. I’m a classy lady like that.”

You flush at the term of endearment, but cover it with indignation.

“Hey! What do you call the tacos I bought for us yesterday?”

He laughs it off and the tense moment is broken. You pack up your things, smiling at the ground. You like the way sweetheart sounds coming from Jason, not that you’d give him that to tease you with. Despite how much you tell each other, there’s one secret you haven’t told him yet. That privately you hope your Words will be his. It’s so easy to fall in love with Jason, or at least what passes for love at this age. The light in his eyes when he rants about the latest book he’s read, when he shares the biscuits Alfred packs for him, the way he listens to you so intently even if he doesn’t have all the answers. You can admit to yourself that you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, but never out loud. Your friendship is one of the most important things in your life and you are terrified of destroying it.

You don’t see Jason much after that, that summer. Your texts and calls still get answered, but he’s frustratingly vague about meeting up. He says that his dad has him in a kind of summer school, wants him to learn from private tutors before school starts up in the Fall again. Asking about what it is that he’s supposed to learn (his marks are already incredibly good) makes him cagey about it. You don’t want to push, but it feels like he’s pulling away from you. Phone calls get shorter, sentences more clipped. Your offers to just drop by the manor to see him get turned down automatically. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you’ve met. You’re terrified that he’s done with you. That for some unnameable reason he’s decided to end your years of friendship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gotham seems colder without Jason at your side, the dangers more obvious and your usual haunts less welcoming.

Finally, after nearly two months you manage to pin him down, get him to agree to meet the day after his birthday. Your heart is in your mouth as you wait for him on a bench in the park. There’s a trickle of sweat running down your back. It’s a hot day but the park is a lush green, an after effect from an Ivy attack the night before. You release your grip on your present for Jason, smooth the envelope and hope you didn’t crease it with your sweaty fingers. A voice is calling your name.

Jason’s been changed by the weeks apart. He’s a few inches taller now, filled out in the shoulders more. You have to crane your neck back to see his face. The anxiety in you is reflected in his face, the way he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his darting eyes. Uncertain how to proceed, you thrust the envelope out between you.

“Happy Birthday.”

“I— thank you.”

There’s silence again, and the awkwardness between you is a tangible thing. It’s worse than it was in eighth grade only this time you don’t know how to bridge the gap. You look down at your shoes, the toes scuffed.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” It comes out of him in a rush. “I’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Just, all summer my dad’s been on me about studying with these private tutors except they’re all friends with Dick so nothing I do can ever be good enough in comparison and every day I’ve felt like crap but I didn’t want you to see me like this which only made me feel worse ‘cause then I basically had to avoid you all the time which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do and all I wanted to do was have you tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and they can all go kick dirt but then I’d have to talk to you about it which I wasn’t ‘cause I was already embarrassed.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, words running together at the speed which he was going.

“You planning to breathe any time soon?”

He deflates, collapses onto the bench next to you, an arm tucked around his right side awkwardly holding the card so it doesn’t get crushed. You sigh, heavily.

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Your confession is barely above a whisper. You can’t even look at him as you say it.

“I didn’t— I wouldn’t. I need you to know that I never, ever don’t want to be your friend okay? I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Promise not to cut me out again and that you won’t take out your own issues on our friendship, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Pinky promise.”

Jason places the card in his lap, goes to link your fingers together, then winces at the movement of his arm. Suddenly sirens are going off in your brain.

“What’s wrong with your side?”

“Nothing, must have just pulled a muscle or something.” He tries to laugh it off nervously, but you can tell when he’s lying. His eyes dart to the left over your head, knee bounces almost imperceptibly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know he’s not telling you the truth.

“You can’t even go a full minute without cutting me out! Jason, I know something is wrong. Now tell me.”

He hesitates, and you’ve had it with the lies and the avoidance and the being kept in the dark. You fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you start tugging.

“Hey! Wh-what are you doing?”

He tries to squirm away, batting at your hands but you get his shirt up far enough to see the bruise on his ribs in the shape of a boot. It’s purple going a sickly yellow, mottled and stark against the dips of his ribs. You can feel all the blood drain from your face. Jason’s pushed up against the far side of the bench, pulling his shirt down with shaking hands.

“Jason. Jason if someone is hurting you, you need to tell someone. If it's your dad or one of the tutors, we can find someone to tell together.”

“No one— no one’s hurting me, all right? I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough during a Rogue attack. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. No one’s abusing me, okay?”

“But you’d tell me if they were?”

“I tell you everything important.”

It’s not enough, not nearly for you. From the look in his eyes Jason knows this too, but its all he’s willing to give. There’s a crossroads in your relationship here, a road where you push and push until you get the full story but shatter the tattered strands of your friendship or you accept that you’ll never have all of Jason but maybe your friendship will survive. So you do what needs to be done.

“Okay. If you say that’s what happened then I trust you.”

It’s a low blow, to twist your trust in him like a knife, but it’s your only way to express your frustration with him. You gesture to the envelope, fishing around to change the subject.

“So you going to open that or what?”

And just like that, there’s a new normal. You see Jason everyday in class but he begs off your after school hangouts as often as you two actually spend time together. Conversation is stilted, hidden undercurrents to them of subjects neither one of you wants to address. You’re wary, suspicious of every bump and bruise Jason shows up with. The ease to your friendship has gone, disappeared to the realm of the past.

At the end of October, Jason becomes obsessed with the news. Keeps checking headlines and obituaries, fearful like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The death of Felipe Garzonas makes the news and the tension in Jason ratchets up. He’s irritable, stops paying attention in classes, blows up when you try to feel out what’s wrong. He’s apologetic every time, promises it won’t happen again until you eventually stop trying to ask questions. Hope that your presence is enough to steady him through whatever it is that is tormenting him.

He asks you once, if you’d believe in his word, no matter what the evidence of something told you otherwise. You tell him you would, always, but that answer doesn’t seem to make a difference.

Winter break comes and goes, without an invitation to visit this time. If anything, Jason comes back more irritable and closed lipped. Mutters something about a fight over Christmas dinner, his brother and Bruce clashing over something. You’re worried about him all the time now. He’s more reckless with himself, won’t look before crossing the road, reacts aggressively to every perceived challenge, throws things when he gets frustrated. He’s changing into someone you don’t recognize in front of your eyes.

April comes and there’s a new light in his eyes. It’s manic and hopeful and the first emotion you’ve seen in him other than fear in months. He won’t tell you what it is, just that there’s something new he’s found out, something about his mother. This time you hope, fingers crossed and a wish on every star that whatever has brought him this hope won’t hurt him.

On Monday, Jason doesn’t come to school. He doesn’t answer your messages or pick up any of your calls. Even when he’s been out sick he at least lets you know. On Tuesday you get called into the office in the middle of first period. You haven’t been back to the secretary’s office since the day you enrolled. The seats are still as overstuffed as you remember. The secretary is the same, a few more grey streaks in her perfectly set hair. Her eyes are red, and she’s got one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs in her hands.

“I’ve got some bad news honey, and I— I think it would be best if you sit down for it.”

“Oh— will this take long? Only I got pulled out of class and we’re reviewing for the exam next week.”

“Oh honey.” She has to pause to dab at her eyes before continuing. “You’re going to be excused from all exams next week, okay? I need you to know that the school will do whatever we can to support you through this.”

Now, now you are scared. “Support me through what? It’s not my mom is it?”

“Honey it’s Jason, Jason Todd. I’m so sorry but he passed away yesterday. I’ve contacted your parents and your mother is on the way to come pick you up.”

Her words don’t make any sense.

“But he can’t be. I saw him on Saturday. There’s been a mistake. He’s not dead.” Your legs don’t work anymore and you hit the couch, hard, sliding off the overstuffed pillows to kneel on the floor. You don’t feel any of it. There’s copper in your mouth, you must have bitten your tongue on the way down but you can’t feel it. There’s movement in your peripheries, and your mother crouches down into your field of vision.

“Mom, mom they made a mistake. She’s— she’s saying that Jason’s dead, but he can’t be. Mom he’s not dead.”

“Sweet pea, I’m so, so sorry. It’s been on the news all morning.”

It rips through you then, grief. Sobs shake your whole body, your mother doing her best to hold you together. There’s a roaring in your ears like you’re caught in a vacuum. You can’t see through the tears. Your body is trembling violently and you can’t care enough to try and stop it. Nothing matters anymore. Jason’s dead.

To get to the car, your mother has to half carry you. There’s no point in moving. You’re not sure how you end up in your bed at home but you do. You don’t sleep but you aren’t really awake either. The tears don’t stop coming. You’re nothing but an open wound, not even really a whole person. The world’s burned down to ash and you’re just floating through it. You know your parents come in to talk to you, can hear the murmur of their voices but you don’t care. There’s food put in front of you but it holds no interest to you. You might have had sips of water, maybe some broth but you don’t remember and you don’t care. The only thing you really register is Haley, nestling up to you and making biscuits with his paws in your blankets.

Jason’s funeral is on Friday and you can’t get out of bed to go. Jason’s not in that coffin, not really. He won’t be there and so you won’t be. Jason’s never coming home. Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead plays on a loop. You never got to tell him. He died without knowing you loved him. His death has ripped you open like nothing ever has before, regret a constant salt in the wound. He never told you that he was thinking of leaving, of going anywhere. It feels wrong at this point, to interrupt his family in their grief, another stranger claiming to have known their son. After all, how well did you really know him if you didn’t even know he was going to leave?

Grief swallows you whole, but over time you learn to live with it. Days blur together. The tears dry up but the not caring doesn’t. Inside of your head is a wall, separating you from the reality of a world without Jason. You’re wrapped in wool and safe behind glass, unable to care about anything. It’s easier that way.

The school passes you for the year, citing personal tragedy, and you don’t care. Summer comes and the only difference is that your mother comes in and throws your windows open every morning. It’s Jason’s birthday soon, too soon. He’ll never be sixteen but you will be. He’ll never have his Words come in. He’ll never get the chance to do all the things he talked about, make Gotham a better place, travel the world. But you can.

It makes no sense to live for a dead boy but it’s all you’ve got. So you do what you have to do. It gets you to leave your bed for the first time in months. To start eating again, even if there’s no taste to the food in your mouth. To shower and take care of yourself for the first time in ages. Your room is clean for the first time in months and the first thing you do is take down your photograph from the 8th grade formal and put it away in a desk drawer.

By September, you have gathered yourself enough to return to school despite the worried looks of your family. It is hard, the hardest thing you have ever done but you do it for the boy that will never graduate high school. You sit by yourself at your desk, you eat lunch by yourself, you go straight home after class without any detours. The school play this year is Romeo and Juliet. You take home the sign up flyer and consider it, hard. In the end you decide to leave it. Jason may have always wanted to try out for the play but you won’t survive torturing yourself with this. On opening night you tell your parents you’re going to see it and get drunk on the gymnasium roof.

You make it through your last two years of high school a ghost. Administration tries to pressure you into meeting with a therapist but you refuse. You don’t want to experience your grief at all. Numbness is the only way you are going to survive this, your new reality. You do take them up on their suggestion of volunteering. Working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for Underprivileged Children gives you a sense of purpose. Of helping other Crime Alley kids without the benefit of nepotism to get them into places like Gotham Academy. It stokes the first emotion in you other than numbness, and that’s rage for all the ways in which these kids have been failed.

You accept a full scholarship to Gotham University. Your parents couldn’t be more proud of your achievement but you can barely muster the energy to smile. Keep up the volunteer work while rushing through your degree in two years instead of four. With nothing else to drive you, you’ve got nothing but time for school. The Martha Wayne Foundation offers you a position in fundraising, and you accept. It’s not what you envisioned for yourself, but it’s a path forward with purpose.

You move out, into your own apartment in an area that’s probably too dangerous for a girl of your age but you can’t stand to be at home anymore. The job consumes your life and you are grateful for it. It’s important work, even if some of the policy meetings on accepting donations from the Red Hood make you want to fall asleep. You make use of your Gotham Prep connections, rubbing elbows with the rich for just as long as it takes to pry open their wallets. It’s ridiculous but the higher ups trot you out to entertain at fundraising events, a pretty young face to pull in more donors. Occasionally you see Bruce, or Dick, or the newest ward Tim at functions, always across the room before you quickly excuse yourself. The numbness carries you through your life but there are limits to it and you’re not eager to test them.

Even five years later, you can’t go back to the park. You’ve never had another chili dog, though you’ll hire the vendor to cater community events. You’ve worked your way back into the public library, but still avoid the alcove on the second floor in the encyclopedia section. There’s a handful of arcade tokens in a plastic bag in your apartment still unused. Batburger is still your favourite, but you still can’t set foot in the location nearest to the Academy.

You keep yourself so busy that when your Words come in, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know…”, you barely give it a thought, just pulling the cuff of your shirt lower to cover your wrist. Carry on with the rest of your morning routine and head into the office. From that point on, your sleeves are always long and your gala outfits gain elbow length opera gloves. You never bother trying to read the rest of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s a cold February morning. The bus broke down two stops from the office and now you have to walk the rest of the way in the snow. Standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change, you pass the time by scanning the headlines on the nearest newsstand. “Lost Wayne son found alive” screams out at you, tearing into your heart bloody. You lose grip of your work bag, but manage not to lose your mind in the street. Picking your bag up out of the slush, you run into the nearest bodega bathroom and lock the door with trembling hands. Shove a fist into your mouth and scream as the tears pour down your face. You’re shaking, worse than you were all those years ago. Snot blocks your nose and you have to stop screaming to breathe. So you do what needs to be done. Fumbling with your coat pocket, you pull out your phone and call the office, call out sick. It’s the only time you’ve done it in all the time your supervisor has known you but the tremor in your voice and frequent sniffles must alarm her enough.

In a fog, you somehow make it from the bodega bathroom to the front gate of Wayne manor. It doesn’t look like it’s changed at all since your last visit over five years ago, except for the heaving mass of press. You circle round the property and enter through the bushes, the way Jason showed you years ago on a tour of the property. You slip on the snow, fall to your knees but get back up. This is the only thing that matters now. The back door has an elaborate knocker that takes both of your hands to lift. It takes what feels like ages for someone to answer the door. It’s poor Mr. Pennyworth, looking more ruffled than you’ve ever seen him. You’re indescribably rude to the poor man, pushing right past him and into the building. Only one thing matters now and your vision has narrowed out anything outside of achieving your goal.

There’s voices coming from somewhere inside, up the stairs and in the direction of the library. A hand, probably Mr. Pennyworth’s, tries to grab at your wrist but you’re too quick for that. You’re running now, clutching at the bannister as though it will pull you up the stairs faster. A shout from behind and the tone of the voices change, a door slamming in the distance. Finally, finally you reach the library but a body tries to come between you, stopping you in your tracks. Years of grief, anger, and battered hope come roaring through you at the thought of being denied seeing Jason, alive after all this time.

Your voice when it leaves you is dangerously low. “Dick, I presume? You don’t know me, and I’ve heard very little about you from Jason and what I did hear I didn’t like. I’m going to make this simple.” The door behind him cracks open, but you soldier on anyway. “Jason Todd was my best friend and first love.” The body stiffens, but that doesn’t matter in this moment. “You are going to step aside and-” anything else doesn’t matter because a door is thrown open and there is Jason.

Eyes wild, a good deal older and more scarred than before, but he’s alive. And then nothing else matters but the feel of his arms warm around you, the imprint of his jacket on your face, the smell of him largely unchanged. He’s alive and he’s real and you can touch him. You draw back to look at him, drink in the sharpened angle of his jaw, the blue-green of his eyes, the white streak in his hair. He’s grown taller and broader than he had over that wretched summer so many years ago. What catches your eye is the writing at the hollow of his throat, a stark black spreading across his collarbones exposed by the v of his t-shirt. Jason Todd was my best friend and first love, it reads.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you felt the same.” He says and your wrist starts to burn.

[gabby-msr]

As a more recent fan of the x files (first watch in 2020), can I just thank every single person who has ever contributed to this online fandom, especially when it comes to fic archives?

It took me a while to find today's fandom in 2020 so at first I kind of just wandered around the internet and found so much.

I remember distinctly reading about Gossamer on a reddit thread so I looked it up and to this day I don't think I can explain in words the feeling of complete euphoria that overcame me as I explored the site and discovered endless pages of fanfiction. I loved reading fics that were submitted there, as many came with comment thanking betas, about their lives, and also their thoughts about the show as it aired. I felt like I'd found my people (a little too late). People cared (and still care) so much about the fics, enough to have had fandom awards, and really put in the work to keep these stories around.

There is something really special about reading a fic from 1997 from a writer who had no idea how the show would turn out, in 2023.

While Gossamer isn't exactly AO3, it has story categories, divided into themes (romance, adventure), and then again, sorted by the 1st letter of the title. And then there was the possibility to sort by spoilers. And sort by author and date, and a search function. Fic ratings and even ship tags.

It's so impressive. I'm in awe.

And I know lots of fics were lost because some websites purged content in many fandoms, and it has probably happened to us too, but we still have so many stories on Gossamer and other smaller archives.

Thanks to you, the stories have survived and new people get to read them. Some are fandom classics now. And some of us out there do read them, years later.

[lej222]

Hlw! Would love to see your analysis on if jisu likes miae romantically or not. Hope u'll do that sometimes😊don't feel pressured tho it’s just my wish❤️

Sorry for the late reply, but here is a long post about my thoughts about Jisu's character arc, including spoilers from episode 147 (these are just my ramblings, my word is not gospel :D)

Does Jisu like Miae romantically?

Now, this is a hard question to answer. And I will try my best to break down what we know about him so far.

We only have two fragments of the time when Jisu and Miae were classmates. The first one is when Miae called out Jisu's bullies and she asked him the same question Jisu repeated years later to her (important!) about scolding the bullies. The other memory was Jisu's transfer to another elementary school. He was forced to write a letter and mentions how he liked Miae the most and the whole class, including Miae, cry their heart out. Jisu remembers how hard Miae sobbed and Miae can also recall someone telling her they liked her, but doesn't remember the boy's face or name.

Years later after moving around, Jisu ends up in the same school with her again in the spring semester in 1998. He is surprised, even more so when they become classmates in the following year, but doesn't care enough to interact with Miae. Coincidences keep happening - her pencil landing at his chair, they get sent out to the corridor, they become folk dance partners, he finds her name tag and uses it to avoid punishment, they get detention the same time. And Jisu still doesn't care about the whole situation, not until their actual detention week starts when he initiates conversation for the first time. This is when Jisu concludes their random encounters are fun and Miae is an interesting person. (Edit:: I'm rereading the story, and actually the turning point of their relationship is when Miae tries to save him from the teacher when they ruined the plant. It's possible Jisu doesn't let anyone close to himself and was intentionally petty towards Miae in the beginning until she decided to help him. We see that Jisu is greatly speechless in that scene and decides to flip over the plant. My best guess is that he might have realized Miae is still the same person as she was back then and she's still brave so Jisu becomes active for the first time for her and takes the blame. It is probably also the moment he concludes being around Miae is fun)

Based on these alone, I'm inclined to believe that even if Jisu loves her romantically at this point of the story, he's not aware of it. For him, being around Miae is exciting because she is fun. She doesn't remember him at all, but she's still the same person as she was years ago in elementary school so Jisu feels comfortable around her which didn't go unnoticed by their homeroom teacher or Jisu's mother. Miae probably doesn't understand why people keep emphasizing his unique personality and connect the dots, but we readers can easily assume Jisu was bullied because of his difference. And it is something he shares with Miae so he might feel like she understands him, or rather, she doesn't treat him differently because of it. It's a situation that can easily bloom into love with time, even if he's not there yet.

But why is Jisu is important in this story?

One thing I always see people complaining about is Jisu's plot relevance. However, it is a much more complex narrative choice than just a simple love triangle.

I have said this before, but memories and fate are intertwined in this story. There are just too many clues that support this. Miae doesn't remember Cheol at the beginning of the story, she even has trouble recalling his name. As the plot progresses and we see more of her memories, fate keeps throwing them together and they develop a friendship that turns into romantic love. In fact, it's a recurring point in the story that Miae keeps forgetting important things. Her dreams, things she must do, Jisu's entire presence in the past.

Which takes me to my next point, the unidentified higher power in the story. It's been always present, at first only giving small signs of its existence in the form of phone calls or changing the weather. Let's remember that lots of times Miae and Cheol had a moment it started raining (Miae's dream about Cheol, when he helped changing the light bulb, when they wanted to take a photo together). However, the unknown presence's voice gets more and more active as thes tory goes on. Not only it starts interacting with Miae in her dreams, she can also hear it in certain situations and wonders where it came from. In fact, when she is talking to Cheol's shoe in one of the very first chapters, she has a weird feeling for a second and we get a close up on the shoe. This supernatural (?) power has always been involved with Miae, but it starts to be more aggressive.

Not only it tells Miae that she's too late and it tried to warn her, in the newest chapter it floods every scene with car ads that are about changing one's car. So the mysterious entity clearly tries to intervene, giving chance encounters to Miae and Jisu while preventing Miae and Cheol's relationship (like how they cannot have a photo together).

Okay, so what does it mean?

It is something I obviously cannot answer as I'm not the writer.

BUT let's not forget that someone like Jisu in this story, who was shown to have exceptional cognitive skills (like knowing every person's name whom he's ever met, being first in the school and likely is on the spectrum), also has excellent memory. And what did I say about memories and fate? That they are seemingly intertwined! Jisu is writing his own fate, he appeared later in the story because he chose to not get involved until that point! He is the character who is aware of everything in the past and present. While Miae has trouble with her memories, and what do we see? Fate aggressively trying to steer her.

At the end of the day, we have two routes that are possible:

Miae is fated to be with Jisu, fate/the stone deity/the universe knows it and tries to warn Miae her time with Cheol is short so she shouldn't have any regrets. In this case, the story is about how Cheol and Miae helped each other in a certain period of their lives, but had different fates set in stone.

Miae was fated to be with Jisu, and the higher power knows it, but Miae will change her own fate to be with Cheol instead. In this case, in the remaining chapters we will see her fighting against her own destiny and win in the end.

At this point, I feel like I have to mention I've studied philosophy for quite a few years, and I highly doubt we can get a satisfactory explanation of any of these possibilities. But rather, it will be a simple:

even though we were not fated together, I cherished our time together

or love overcomes destiny itself

Other interesting idea

This is just for fun, but the comic Miae reads is a clear symbol of her relationship with Cheol. They have almost every cliche in the book (with sometimes a little twist) like troubled boy meeting childhood friend, becoming neighbours with their windows facing each other, accidentally seeing the other's body, falling on each other first kiss, etc. This is your typical 90s shoujo manga which makes sense because the story takes place in the 90s.

On the other hand, we have the chaotic meetings of Jisu and Miae who bond over trash, don't get the accidental kiss trope, etc. And whether it's meant to illustrate that they will only remain friends or it's meant to be a contrast to Miae and Cheol's comic book romance, I don't know. Depends on the ending the author wants to convey. I would be fine with either possibilities as long as Jisu won't be used as a plot device.

Plus, Miae&Jisu and Cheol&Miae parallel each other a lot. Just coming from the latest chapters, Miae has interacted with Jisu's mom, but not really Cheol's parents. Cheol has interacted with Miae's parents. Miae is bothered by Jisu. Cheol was bothered by her. Cheol saying the same thing Miae said to Jisu. These are all definitely intentional.

As usual, please don't take my words seriously, this is just all for fun.

Edit: there's one other interesting thing to consider:

Jisu is aware of the coincidences and thinks they are fun. He's been saying this for a while. Which means if there's indeed a higher power in the story, Jisu is accepting of fate.

Miae, on the other hand, willfully rejects her own fate. Let's say Miae and Cheol's meeting was bound to happen - it was also their destiny. She acknowledged those coincidences and even wondered how strange they were. So the higher power was content. But what if, according to their fate, their time together is indeed short? Because Miae rejects her coincidental meetings with Jisu, saying how she hopes she won't meet him again, only for the higher power to be more aggressive and take on an active voice. In the last chapter, she even kicked the flyer away about changing one's car, only for her to end up with a bubble gum in her hair so she was forced to get a haircut from Jisu's mother. Jisu's question last chapter is more than just him asking to play together - it's a chance for Miae to go into the direction the higher power wants her to be.

The real questions:

Is fate something one can overcome? Are certain things bound to happen and we can only decide how to deal with them emotionally? Is the narrator/higher power omnipotent and omniscient? Because if it is, can Miae still decide what's the best for her? These are the truly complicated questions that we cannot answer because there are no answers. So I'm excited to see what Soonkki will come up as the resolution.

[pluralthey]

is there a good place to start if we want to learn about idletry? im very interested in the story and all the bits and pieces revealed so far but i dont know if youve like, stated the basics both about the characters-in-story and how you’re releasing the comic

hi there. unfortunately, idletry became a passion project very abruptly and many details were added very quickly without regard for how long the project would take. once i did realize how large the project was, i decided that i would not even kid myself on the idea of holding in spoilers for the next 5 years, and those two factors combined make the information available very chaotic and slapdash -- somewhat intentionally.

i don't even have the comics tagged separately for easier access among the idletry content -- although, i could go back and give them a separate tag.

i can summarize the story and say that it's about a funny little talking honey badger/tasmanian devil named jessie gaylord who has for the last 10 years of her life been on heavy psychiatric medication in an attempt to mitigate a pervasive delusion that the world is a fictional story. she also has a notorious aggressive streak. these medications work primarily by leaving her so tired that she sleeps most of the time.

the story begins when her medical team has run out of typical medications to try, and they must order an older, more aggressive type of drug which is not commonly used anymore, and has a lengthier process to manufacturing and approving the drug. during this time, she is not on any medication, and she becomes more urgently fixated on convincing people that the delusion is true.

she ends up attempting to contact the writer, who is referred to as God, and she receives a response. she immediately attempts to write the story herself, and she's granted the ability to do anything within the story so long as she can write it out. (the intricacies and limitations of this power have been elaborated upon in a bunch of fragmentary posts, so i won't try to condense it here)

at the end of the first act, she kills the first writer and becomes the new God of her world. the rest of the story is about what she does after acquiring omnipotence, and it heavily features a character named fate -- or shiloh, as jessie calls her -- with whom she enters an intimate relationship.

she has a happy loving family composed of a father named adam, a mother named evelyn, and an older sister named emily. there is a later minor subplot about a cult following who worships her after she becomes God, and this cult is initially organized by an ant called samanthuel -- or samwich, as jessie calls them. these are usually the other characters i mention and i am too lazy to link them right now

the comic itself is currently being written. the script stands at around 51,000 words at the time of writing this as i work on the second act. after it's written, i will let it simmer for a few months and then write a second draft to start to relieve the story of its bloat. depending on its length at that point, i will either need to write a third draft, or i will start drawing the comic.

chances are, during the second draft, i will start to thumbnail or sketch scenes which receive little to no editing, as i know they will likely remain relatively unchanged even through multiple drafts.

the sketch strips are to tide me and an eager audience over in the meantime, but they've sort of dried up as i focus all of my attention on finishing the first draft and taking care of a puppy that was kind of just forced onto me.

i've made a couple of full-length comics before and they have taken years. it is, unfortunately, just the nature of the process. for idletry, i plan to self-publish the comic. i've never published something in print before, so that is the most daunting part for me.

the plan at the moment is to crowdfund this, but, to be frank with you, i no longer pay rent, and i care very much about having this comic as a printed book. i have no issue with paying the cost of printing out of my own pocket by the time it's done and am even anticipating that outcome ahead of time, despite having a pretty reliable audience by now.

i'm on the fence about releasing a digital book version, as i very much want to retain digital color versions of the pages that are more vibrant, but due to the explicit adult content of the story, i don't want it to be free-access.

tl;dr: it's about a lesbian incel with anger issues who's given omnipotence.

i'm still working on the story because i want it to be good.

i'm planning on printing it as a physical comic book once it's done.

[kalinara]

A long time ago, for a former blog, I did a write up of one of my favorite random little X-Men stories, specifically the backup story from Classic X-Men #41-42.

Since, nowadays, it's a lot easier for all of us to go and read random old issues, I thought it would be fun to showcase this story again.

So what's the appeal, you may wonder? Why is this going to be my first (and probably not only) deep dive into a particular comic book story for this blog?

Well, it's a backstory issue. I enjoy backstory issues. And it involves my favorite character. And there's something that newer fans, who may have gotten into the X-Men through other media, like the movies or cartoons (welcome! By the way! 616 is a trip!) may not know, and that is:

Scott Summers's backstory is fucking batshit. And this is one tiny peek into it! Enjoy!

(Warnings for spoilers for a story that came out when I was three years old.)

So what DO we know about Scott Summers's backstory before we start?

We know that, at one point, Scott had parents and one (?) brother. Eventually that total gets a little murky. But at some point, when Scott was about 8-10 years old (retelling vary), they were on a nice little plane trip. things kind of went to hell. Parents were "killed", kids went out the plane with one parachute, the parachute caught fire, and the kids fell. Alex bounced, Scott didn't.

Eventually, Scott ends up in the "care" of a dude named Jack Winters. Jack is pretty awful, using him to commit crimes, and in general is an abusive dick. I have a tag for him, if you want specific examples. Our good pal, Charles Xavier saved Scott from that guy, and well, the rest of the story is known.

This story takes place in between, and the big twist is kind of revealed from the Marvel Unlimited summary, as well as one of my tags to this post. Oops. Oh well.

Anyway, welcome to the "State Home for Foundlings" in Omaha, Nebraska. And even Claremont kind of snarks about the name:

One funny thing about poor Scott's origin is that the orphanage that makes up a big part of it was an outdated concept even as far back as 1986. It's only become more so as the rolling timeline continues on.

I love that we get a nod to that here. Let's just say, though, that there's a reason that it still works when we transplant the events of this story and others to 2007-ish*

(Insert your own time scale here. I chose 2007 because whenever anyone at Marvel is asked about Scott's age, they usually give 27-28 as a bench mark. Does that make sense? No. But that's comics for you. Sixty real life years, twelve in universe years. Huh, for once it divides evenly. I'm going to enjoy that.)

Anyway, we start out with a fight. Initially, it's between a kid called Toby and a kid called Nate. Funny coincidence that name. But our Scott is a hero at heart.

Sadly, he isn't much of a fighter. But I appreciate Toby's read of Scott having a "suicide complex." Kid, you have no idea.

So funny thing about the staff of this orphanage, I'm not sure how many of them actually...exist. You'll see what I mean later.

But we do get to meet one that almost certainly does exist, the new orphanage doctor, Robyn Hanover:

I love her, if only for her use of the phrase "sweet science of pugilism." And that she calls him a "brave young paladin."

Potential fanfic fodder here: might Robyn's profession and particular linguistic quirks have led a young Scott to be more comfortable with Hank early on? Or less?

She does know at least some of the story though, but this bit is rather interesting:

Toby thinks Nate's a creep. Even Scott doesn't like him that much. So what IS Nate like?

We might find out. But not yet, because Scott's got to have a pretty horrible nightmare:

Something interesting about Nate in THIS version of the origin story that's a little lost in some of the other peeks into the Orphanage days, is that this Nate is smaller than Scott, and blond.

It's maybe worth thinking about how, in this nightmare, this smaller, blond child is begging not to be dropped. And it's interesting how one of those faces in the fire is a man with a mustache.

We might want to come back to this in a bit.

So this is Nate. Hi Nate.

One cool thing about Marvel Unlimited, if you decide to splurge for it, is that you can actually zoom in on panels.

This is the first panel, zoomed in close. Neat, huh?

So anyway, Dr. Hanover, being a doctor, is not so inclined to take a ten year old's word for his roommate's condition:

So as an older adult reading this, I find myself noticing things I didn't necessarily notice before.

Like the homophobic tone of Toby's insults toward Nate, in particular. "Sittin' in a tree", "sissy boys". What exactly is Toby accusing Nate of?

So what IS the deal with Nate? This next part might explain it. And then raise a whole lot of questions.

So, that observation that Dr. Hanover had before? About Nate acting like he ran the place? YEAH.

It's probably worth noting that initially, Mr. Sinister's backstory hadn't been established yet. The whole Victorian scientist who spent time among the Nazis and was genetically obsessed with mutantkind and did scary scientific experiments in the basement wasn't what Claremont initially had in mind.

IIRC, Claremont's idea for Mr. Sinister was that roommate Nate was the real thing, an immortal who aged very slowly, and the cartoonish Mr. Sinister was his psychic projection. It's worth noting that even in this version, Nate was chronologically supposed to be an adult, fixated on a twelve year old boy.

And when we take Toby's taunts into account, it's still very strongly...allegorical. Shall we say.

That said, the Victorian Scientist DELIBERATELY disguising as a ten year old boy so he can be Scott Summers's roommate does make it even worse. That said, it provides a really nice explanation as to why "Nate" looks like Alex.

(Reminder: this is the guy that Xavier put on the Krakoan Council. And stood by at least once while Sinister said creepy shit to his "son".)

Anyway, Dr. Hanover is intrigued by Scott and decides to do some investigating. She learns the following backstory:

Scott was brought here four years ago.

He'd been in the hospital for a skull fracture, and spent a year in a coma.

He's never been adopted, because he's got brain damage. We're told it's a "combined effect" of the injury, plus exposure from being out on the prairie in the middle of a blizzard. This leads to my favorite panel ever:

Of course, you should have guessed. I love comics. I really do.

This is when we meet Mr. Pearson, the chief administrator of the orphanage. And I'm not entirely sure how he fits with Claremont's original idea for Mr. Sinister. Since it's pretty clear that this guy is ALSO Mr. Sinister.

I'm not going to show the whole page, but here's some choice bits.

So yeah, Mr. Pearson does not approve of Dr. Hanover's everything, it seems. And he particularly does not like that she's "focusing [her] interest on one child ... to the possible detriment of his fellows".

He gives a speech on not playing favorites, noting that the charges should be treated equally, and that he thinks of the staff and children as family.

Dr. Hanover rightfully thinks he's creepy.

Anyway, I love Dr. Hanover, because she listens to the creepy asshole tell her that she should not focus interest on one particular child and responds to it by immediately asking said child to help her set up her office.

And they even get to bond a little:

Of course, she's a pilot too!

Scott, right now, is pretty cynical about his ability to fly and confesses his pretty terrible headaches. Because optic blasts kind of suck, even before you actually have them. Again.

But they're interrupted by drama. Remember bully Toby?

He's on the roof. Nate, in the crowd outside, doesn't think this is a big loss. Scott disagrees and runs up the fire escape.

Dr. Hanover tries to talk to Nate, and it does not make things LESS creepy.

Not to excuse bullying, or homophobia, but you ever get the sense that Toby might have had a point. Because this shit is fucking creepy. Back away from the twelve year old, Essex.

So it's time for Scott to get a new trauma:

It's funny, but sometimes I think you could actually make a convincing argument that Scott Summers has some kind of very low level precognitive ability. This is somewhat similar to the fire dream above. (Another example might be the dream-execution in Fall of the House of X. Ever notice the presiding judge, sitting with Orchis issues before he joins up?)

Anyway, Dr. Hanover and Scott share a moment on the roof, while the ambulance takes Toby's body away. Scott's rather understandably upset.

Dr. Hanover's a fun protagonist because she doesn't know what the audience does. But she's starting to put some things together:

I like the lowkey horror of this cliffhanger. You're in danger, Doc.

There is an interesting note here though. Scott's apparently confided in her about his nightmares: flames, fallings, and dropping someone whose life depends on you.

We know what that means, but she doesn't. Why wouldn't Scott TELL her about it though, if he trusts her enough to tell her about the nightmares themselves?

-

So the story continues in #42. (The main, reprinted story, by the way, is the Dark Phoenix Saga. Just worth noting.)

We start this one out with a much happier twelve-year-old Scott. He's at the Sage Air Force base, with friends of hers: Rick and Trish Bogart.

We learn that Scott can identify WWII planes on sight, like the DeHavilland Mosquito. Rick and Trish show off another old plane that Rick flew in HIS war. Presumably Vietnam, but if we're rolling time-lining the story, they could mean the Persian Gulf, or even Afghanistan.

One of the reasons I've never minded the rolling timeline is the unique perspective it gives us about history. Have you ever thought about how easy it is to update certain storyline beats? A man in his thirties fought in a war when he was a little younger. Which war? Does it really matter?

There's always a war.

But let's ditch the bleakness for some trauma.

See, the airshow is going really well, and Dr. Hanover's friends are pretty awesome. Rick, who flew in the show, is immediately very friendly and offers Scott a ride in the plane. Scott is initially enthused but freezes up.

And then the skydiving part of the show starts. Parachuters who use smoke for a special effect. And well, Scott's got some issues with burning parachutes.

I love how no one in the crowd seems to care about the screaming child in their midst. Nebraskans are cold, man.

But it's really interesting that Dr. Hanover doesn't know who "Alex" is, isn't it?

How does that work? She's read his file. And Alex was in the crash too, adopted out when Scott was in a coma. There SHOULD be records. Unless you're in an orphanage run by a weird obsessed telepath, anyway.

It's also worth noting that Rick Bogart took special attention to the kid raving about roman candles and burning canopies and is starting to wonder.

Back at the Orphanage, Nate continues to be creepy:

Mostly I included these panels for the art. I love the creepy shadows, and Nate's face at the bottom. This is a horror comic, after all.

Dr. Hanover, by the way, still flies occasionally, and she tells Trish Bogart about Nate.

Unlike a certain bald professor, Dr. Hanover admits she's in over her head. She's a physician, not a psychiatrist. But Scott apparently really wanted to come back to the air field.

Per Trish, Rick's excited too. Apparently he loves kids. Scott's apparently with him, while the girls fly together.

I mentioned before, one of the things I love about this story is getting these outside characters putting clues and observations together. Here, it's Rick Bogart. He's talking with another air force guy, both noting that Scott apparently has a knack for preflight procedure.

And here, we get maybe some explanation as to why Scott hasn't confided anything about his backstory.

That's a little suspicious, isn't it?

Inconsistent memories make sense with Scott's medical condition, but why would he suddenly forget that he was just talking about them? It's almost like SOMEONE is fucking around up there.

Later, Dr. Hanover is violating HIPAA laws by filling her friends in on Scott's medical state. There's one bit that solves a bit of a long-running mystery throughout most of Scott's origin stories.

It's always kind of a running question as to wear Scott got the glasses he has when he's on the streets, and then with Jack. At one point, Jack claims he'd gotten them for him. (Maybe he'd gotten him a replacement pair?)

This at least gives us a basis for the knowledge. I always wonder how common ruby quartz actually is in the Marvel universe.

I do like the line about glasses being "isolating". It's funny to remember that, in the 80s, glasses weren't as common or unremarkable as they are now. I can remember so many YA books or sitcom plots of the pretty girl suddenly needing glasses and her social life was in PERIL. Nowadays, it's just sexy librarian vibes.

Also, we get proof that the records DO mention a brother. But apparently not by name. Why is Alex's NAME sealed?

Another notable thing about this scene is that Rick's been doing some digging, based on some of Scott's statements. Blackbird pilots are rare. Scott's dad was a NASA applicant, and Scott mentioned the cold.

Rick thinks he can find out where Scott came from. And well, even if not...

I love how they're wearing sunglasses indoors. Scott, we've found your people.

Let's pretend the story ends here, for a moment. A poor kid in a creepy place finds a family of sunglasses-wearers who love him, while Dr. Hanover gets to help a lot of other kids.

Or, maybe not.

So what happens now?

That, basically. Dr. Hanover is a zombie. The Bogarts are dead. And Scott remains trapped in Nate's hellish little game.

I love his smirk in that lower left panel there.

But maybe it's not entirely hopeless, as Scott is not an idiot. He resolves to get the fuck out of here as soon as he can. Aw, don't worry kid, you'll make it out...

You've got a lot more trauma ahead of you. You're just getting started.

But at least we get to end the comic with some panels that I've showcased before:

This is one of those sequences that really only works with the idea that the Phoenix is, indeed, a part of Jean Grey.

I'm really glad that they went back to that idea. Because otherwise, we'd all have to deal with the idea that this spectral entity is also possibly a pedophile.

Hey, a fun note to leave you on. Remember how Scott's kid is also named Nathan?

Yep. It's probably best that Cable never find out where his name actually comes from...

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - North and South Weekly - Wk 1

So, today was the first entry of North and South and because of the Droughtula, I’m glad to have a beast of an entry to analyze! Also, as a note, I’m probably not going to quote as much of this, since there is so much of it — I’ll just refer to the part I’m talking about. One more thing: this is my first time reading this book. Feel free to share your responses, but no spoilers please! (I know this is a 100+ year-old book though, so I’ll probably filter tags)

Reading the first long paragraph, we can already get a glimpse of Margaret and Edith’s dynamic. They’re cousins and raised together from childhood and Edith is called pretty by all — except Margaret. But now, Margaret is starting to see her better qualities, since Edith is about to leave her and get married and Margaret is going home to live with her father.

What does that tell me? They may not be on the best of terms (at least on Margaret’s side), but even so, Margaret can’t help but feel sad at the upcoming “loss” of her cousin. There’s more evidence to support this: in later paragraphs, she’s referred to as “spoiled” and weak-willed, though it’s unclear whether that’s Margaret’s opinion or Gaskell’s omniscient opinion (which I think is something to watch out for). Then again, she also refers to her as “dear” and observes that Edith would stay with her fiancé even if someone came along with more money and comfort (since she’s so spoiled). Needless to say, I think Margaret has some complicated feelings.

I believe Margaret sees her for what she is — as spoiled and a bit of a child (which we’ll get to later) — but she’s still her cousin and can only see her as more dear. I love that Gaskell writes about this feeling of idealizing a person more when you know they’re about to leave (moving, marriage, etc.) because, as someone’s who been through this, I can very much relate and I appreciate her writing about this. Even if you’re not on the best of terms, you find yourself missing their annoying mannerisms too (unless they’re like, super bad or something lol)!

Moving on, Margaret overhears her aunt — Mrs. Shaw — talking to her friends about Edith’s marriage and her own marriage. What’s interesting here is that her main concern was making sure a) Edith married someone within her age range (unlike her own marriage) and b) love is of the utmost importance. Obviously, this is something pretty common in today’s society — in fact, it’s encouraged — but I do wonder how this was taken when it was first published. Was the aunt seen as frivolous and privileged, or revolutionary and modern? I did some research and it turns out by the time this was published (1854), this was already a well-established belief. So I guess she was simply echoing what most of society was already thinking!

What does stand out to me is that the aunt does talk about the age difference in her own marriage being a “drawback”. I don’t think I need to discuss how our society views age-gap relationships today (let’s just say it’s a hot topic), but I do find it interesting how very relevant this conversation from Mrs. Shaw still resonates with me so many years later.

However, Gaskell doesn’t seem to hold Mrs. Shaw in the highest regard, either. She describes her as “considering herself a victim to an uncongenial marriage” and now that her husband is dead, tries to find something else to be anxious about. Furthermore, she only does things because someone else wants to (and complains about it) while “all the time she was in reality doing just what she liked”. While these aren’t the worst things ever, I wouldn’t call this a glowing character review either. I would almost compare this to Mr. Woodhouse from Jane Austen’s Emma, who bemoans every little illness and thing that befalls him when he is actually pretty healthy.

Not that she’s seen to be a horrible aunt or mother to Margaret or Edith — it’s pretty evident that she cares for both of them by the way she dotes on Edith and how she took Margaret in as a child (I’m not entirely sure why — I think it was to teach her how to be a lady?). I like that Gaskell is already showing a lot of different sides to these characters!

Margaret is asked to model Edith’s wedding shawls, since she is currently down for a nap. She goes up to the nursery and reflects on when she first came to this house as a child. She was considered a wild thing — playing in the forest and all that. On the first night there, her new nurse already seemed intimidating and the nursery itself more akin to a prison. Poor little Margaret began to cry, but the nurse demands her to stop so as to not “disturb Miss Edith”. Then, she was all the quieter when her father and aunt went to check on her later, since she felt bad for being upset. I can well imagine a child of nine fostering a bit of resentment for her cousin after an introduction like that — not a big one, because I don’t think she’s that kind of character, but just a little one. How would you feel if you were thrust into an unwelcoming environment and told your emotions were a problem? It’s not Edith’s fault, but it’s not Margaret’s either. The upside is their relationship remarkably improved after that and she can look upon the nursery with fondness.

Honestly it gives me the same vibes as Charlotte Brontë’s Villete, which was published almost around the same time (though the roles are reversed in this case). At the beginning of the book, the protagonist, Lucy Snowe, is visiting her godmother but they have a new visitor: Polly. Tensions clash when they both have to stay in the nursery and Lucy sees Polly as a spoiled brat, while Polly sees Lucy as unfeeling and unkind to her. Obviously, not the same situation, but I think it’s a little peek into what this kind of dynamic is like!

Moving on, Margaret models the wedding shawls and they actually seem to fit her better than Edith (she has the height for it). The key point here is that “no one thought about it” though: they don’t seem to notice or appreciate Margaret’s beauty. While Gaskell remarks that Edith is known for her prettiness, the same attention does not seem to be applied to Margaret. I wonder if this will be a running theme? What I do appreciate is that when Margaret looks at herself in the mirror, she smiles and poses — she seems to know her own beauty and be somewhat self-confident, even if others don’t tell her. Or at least, she’s having fun dressing up like a princess, which is super cute and I love that for her!!! Why shouldn’t she have fun with this?

Enter Henry Lennox, Edith’s fiancé’s brother — a mouthful. He, understandably, causes a stir amongst everyone and even Edith wakes up from her nap as if she feels the vibes that her future in-law has arrived (to paraphrase the author, lol). While they ask him questions, a very interesting line pops up about Edith’s soon-to-be sister-in-law that I wanted to share and had to do some research on to figure out the meaning of:

“[Edith] had a multitude of questions to ask about dear Janet, the future, unseen sister-in-law, for whom she professed so much affection, that if Margaret had not been very proud she might have almost felt jealous of the mushroom rival…”

After googling what a mushroom rival was (because, what????), the consensus I found was that it means “an unimportant rival”. It was also a way to jab at the “nouveau riche” who found themselves in upper-class circles, but came from lower-class origins. I think ultimately what Gaskell is saying here is that Margaret sees her cousin’s sister-in-law as someone that may try to “steal” her cousin’s affections, but in the end there’s not much to worry about, since Margaret has established affection with Edith (almost like people with generational wealth) and Janet doesn’t have much to compete with because she is too new to Edith’s acquaintance (thus making her like the nouveau riche). Just my interpretation, though, please feel free to sound off in the comments!

Henry goes to sit next to Margaret after Edith’s questioning and Margaret seems very happy to seem him. Not shy at all! Their conversation is interesting. First he starts off with (kind of) mocking her and the ladies “playing with shawls” and how it’s “very different” compared to his “real true law business”. So yeah, not winning any points with me right off the bat, but let’s see where it goes, I guess? I mean, it could be just a joke, right?

He comments on how he’s noticed her doing all the hard work for the wedding and how he hopes she gets a break from that soon. She tries to deflect and mention Edith as also working hard, but he sticks by his assertion that she has been the one doing all the planning work for his brother and Edith’s wedding, which she can’t really deny. Even if she has not done all the work (I imagine Mrs. Shaw has taken up some of the heavy-lifting), it seems that the emotional toil of all the planning is what has made an impact on Margaret.

She wonders if a wedding must always be this way and even suggests that she would like her wedding to be more calm without all of the extra fluff Edith’s has (a bit of a controversial topic in those days I think — in my research I found that Victorian marriages were modeled after Queen Victoria’s ceremony, which included many traditions we still see today). That leads to this passage:

“‘The idea of stately simplicity accords well with your character.’

Margaret did not quite like this speech; she winced away from it more, from remembering former occasions on which he had tried to lead her into a discussion (in which [Henry] took the complimentary part) about her own character and ways of going on. She cut the speech short…”

I find this interesting — that Henry being complimentary is inherently distasteful to her and she immediately turns him away from it. I’m not sure if it’s because a) his compliments suck (who calls someone’s character simplistic — I don’t think that’s the compliment you think it is buddy) b) that’s her future relative-in-law and she thinks it’s weird for him to compliment her or c) she’s just not good at taking compliments in general. I’m actually not sure which it is — I need to see more of her character — but I do know the conversation does not improve from here on out.

She makes a rebuttal to his compliment by saying she is only thinking of her home in Helstone and it’s not a character trait. He tries to get her to talk more about it, but she will not be drawn in. At least not completely. She converses, but also gets quickly annoyed with him. You kind of have to read along to get what I mean, but their conversation is like two steps forward and one back.

Finally, he says, “You are rather severe to-night, Margaret.” And she seems kind of surprised by this because she didn’t realize she was being “severe”: she genuinely could not describe her home as he wants her to. Her justification is basically you can only understand it if you’ve been there, which she did kind of say before this point.

Don’t get me wrong: I love a good banter session, but this one just feels different in a negative way. I also feel like this back-and-forth banter is a set-up. This is how Margaret interacts with the people around her now, because they don’t seem to quite understand her. They think she’s being “uncooperative” or difficult — I don’t think she is. Or perhaps she is, but it’s also Henry’s fault for not changing the subject when she made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about her home and couldn’t describe it!!! I believe her change of scene will help her find people who do get her and maybe she will have a similar form of banter, but this time it will be different and she will be understood. That’s just my speculation, though!

He continues to talk to her, but they hit a roadblock yet again because he asks her “what she does to occupy herself in the country” and when she doesn’t have a good answer, goes to the point of saying:

“I see, you won’t tell me anything. You will only tell me that you are not going to do this and that. Before the vacation ends, I think I shall pay you a call, and see what you really do employ yourself in.”

Idk if someone told me this, even jokingly, I would not like it. This would be my response:

Like why does he need to know her every move?!?!?! I just feel like he’s not asking the right questions and he definitely seems to be making light of her “quaint” living (which I think she’s playing into just so he’ll leave her be). The problem is, he’s just filling in the blanks for her by describing what she does in her current home and then asks “oh so what will you do at Helstone? Archery, parties? Oh, you’re too poor for that? I see you won’t tell me anything.” He sounds exhausting to talk to!!!! Just be a good listener!!!!! Maybe that’s just me and I’m reading too much into it though. I don’t know how much we’ll see of him since he probably won’t be living where Margaret is going, but I honestly hope it’s not much. Or maybe I do — I want to know why he is this way, I’m nosey. 😂😂😂😂

Honestly, it kind of feels like when a neurotypical person and neurodivergent person have a conversation and it just…doesn’t go that well because both people have a different way of communicating and its frustrating for both sides. I know I’m being hard on Henry and whether he deserves that or not is up for debate (I’ll wait for final judgement), but it could just be a case of that. I’m also not saying people of different neurotypes can’t have a satisfying conversation — they definitely can — but it takes understanding from both sides and I do feel like both sides here are not trying to understand the other’s perspective. Just like I could be misunderstanding this whole conversation, I really don’t know!

Also, I’m pretty sure Henry is romantically interested in Margaret, but I don’t know if she returns the feeling. While she was initially was happy to seem him, she seems more annoyed by his conversation than happy (never a good sign). If he is flirting, I think it needs some workshopping because…uh…that ain’t it, pal.

I also notice that when Henry takes his leave, he remarks that “besides, Aunt Shaw won’t like us to talk.” Ok…what does THAT mean???? That nugget of lore is fascinating, but hard to glean much from. Is it because their conversations are always like this and Mrs. Shaw is just tired of hearing the back-and-forth? *Or* is part of the reason they have back-and-forth like this BECAUSE of Mrs. Shaw? Hopefully I’ll find out!

Enter Edith’s fiancé and that’s when the real stir begins! Edith is so excited she runs out of the room just to walk in with him (we love a dramatic entrance lol). We get the chance to observe both brothers while they observe Edith and Margaret in turn. Compared to the captain (and the whole family) it seems that Henry is the “plain one”, but on the whole seems “intelligent” and “keen”. But his interest in watching both women seems to be “slightly sarcastic” — which, what does mean?????? Henry, you’re so confusing!!!!!

Edith decides to show off how good she is at being a soldier’s wife by doing everything herself! Can you guess how well that goes? Yeah, she immediately can’t carry the tea-kettle because it’s too heavy for her and it gets all over her dress. She shows this to her fiancé “like a hurt child” and her fiancé either hugs her or does a relatable “kiss it better” thing — lol (shoutout to a special user in the comments section for helping me figure out what “the remedy was the same in both cases” meant :D). The chapter mostly ends with discussing how they made the tea and then “all was bustle until the wedding was over.”

I think it’s interesting that we don’t get a clear picture of the aforementioned fiancé — now husband. The only thing I can really mention is that he’s obviously affectionate with Edith and seems to humor her childish moods.

As for Margaret, I avoided talking too much about her character, specifically because I think we get it through the way she interacts with others. This is already long so I’ll make a quick list of what I think we can glean from her character so far, in no particular order:

Reflective

Understanding — for the most part (not with Henry)

Playful (to herself)

Doesn’t like too much attention

Determined

Not afraid of conflict

Speaks her mind

Loves her home

Loves her family, but knows their faults

Values tranquility

Helpful

Observant

Self-confident

I think that’s it! I’m excited to read more and hope you enjoyed my ramblings :)

[intertexts]

OK HI. HELLO ROS <3 standing in ur doorway like this 🧍 listen i will read worm eventually i just have so much HAPPENING. ALL THE TIME RIGHT NOW. AND DONT HAVE THE TIME. and also jrwi has me in a chokehold u know how it b. ANYWAY. i need u 2 tell me as much about new haven wards as u can without like major insane spoilers for worm. little spoilers r ok. i watch/read everything with a few lil spoilers 2 look forward to anyway <3 i know nothing abt the universe of worm (<<has barely made a sizeable dent in it but god i will i prommy) but i wanna know what exactly nhw is about. how does the universe work. how do the powers work. what is the situation with the nhw how and why are they working together where did they all come from!! gimme the nhw lore!!! as much as u can!!!!! looking at u with the biggest saddest wettest eyes rn pls pls pls infodump abt nhw 2 me!!!!!!!! ros pls 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

HIII HI HI WHISKEY <333 UR INSANE FOR ASKING THIS. BTW. literally insane. grabbing u so hard by the shoulders there is a crazed look in my eye. anyway. FIRST i am tagging @stuck-in-the-ghost-zone here also!!!!!! bc it is his au as much as mine & i am NOT qualified 2 talk abt nhw mark n such. augh.

ok. ok. ok. new haven wards. putting the cut here.

so the basic movement of worm is that powers are from trauma. ridiculously simplified, but that's the base of it-- if you have superpowers, you have them because you went through traumatic events so severe to you specifically that it broke ur brain a little bit. the powers manifest in some way as a reaction to the traumatic scenario. (it is also more complicated than this. playing the spoiler card.) OR secret second option u put urself into indefinite debt to an extremely shadowy and ominous.... organization? person? shadow government branch? conspiracy? and get superpowers in a can, with like, a 10% chance they'll backfire and mutate u into some fucking terrible inhuman shit and then they'll completely memory wipe you and brand you and dump you off somewhere. not really relevant here. because the main way of getting superpowers is to be violently traumatized, cape society in worm tends to be grittier, more violent. there's more villains, the heroes are less shiny marvel or dc and more making whatever moral compromises they need to get the best outcome possible. at one point one of the main heroes in the city worm takes place in tells the sixteen-year-old protagonist "i don't care, there's a kill order out on them, just put a bullet in her brain if you see her, it's fine" and then a while later goes "yeah i'd vote for a kill order out on you guys too," directly to her face. worm is always going "hey, wouldn't it fucking suck if superheroes were real?". there are many horrifying and inhuman and violent threats. sexual and racial and physical violence aren't swept under the rug. these seventeen year olds are sent to crime scenes where flayed and gutted corpses are suspended from the ceilings because they're heroes! ^_^ but this aint about worm this is about the new haven wards!!!!! [wards are the child soldiers junior hero branch of the main syndicated/unionized hero organization, w/ placement in every major city alongside regional protectorate headquarters]

>key things for this au:

--william wisp changed his last name to bell when he moved to new haven (where his brother david lives :) and joined the wards, for another layer of anonymity ^_^ (he is. severely paranoid about his identity & privacy. <- also a Big and Heavy thing in worm/parahumans world. it's a Big Fucking Deal to unmask a cape regardless of their alignment)

-dakota never got the mechanical heart & biomedical augumentation so didn't meet mato cole at that time! he's still dakota damascus :]

-virion... idk why he's still virion & not vyncent actually. probably just because that was the name his parents gave him? we can't change it now though nhw virion & canon vyncent r two different guys to me...

-ashe is the unluckiest fucking guy in the world!!!

their powers are a little different from canon both bc of the ways powers work just being different frm how they do in pd & also because of the "they're always a reflection of the worst moment of ur life that you're just dragging around with you reminding you of it" thing. <333

wibby / whisperer is a breaker/shaker (<- power classifications meaning he has another form he shifts into, and also an area of effect] in his breaker form (crackling white-blue energy) he 1) can control how corporeal he is, or *how* corporeal he is, from "walks into the brick wall" to "doesnt notice there's a brick wall and goes straight through it", to "goes incorporeal to stick his hand in a guy's chest then resolidifies to instakill him" w/ some tradeoffs. & 2) shape/control energy manifestations in a fairly wide radius around him, where the power of the shaped energy is in proportion to the amount of recent death in the area-- if there's a ton of casualties in the area, he can do a lot more than he could in a peaceful small town in the middle of nowhere. the situation with his trigger event was him. growing up socially isolated and half convinced he was going crazy and everyone else Also thought he was fucking insane (deadwood is still haunted!! more haunted :]) for years & years + the loneliness + frustration + unsureness if he's actually the one just. losing it or if it's all really real + the constant feeling of being in danger, that the town is bad and malicious and out to Get you. anyway. he fell, take that as ambiguously as u do for that in canon, didn't die, but was severely injured & couldn't move. just laid there for maybe a day or so in the woods that wanted to kill him. anyway he triggered when he was found! the catalyst was not "the place that's been out to get me my entire life finally succeeded" but the helpless incandescent frustration of "actually nothing i ever do is going to make you understand. i've been trying for so fucking long to make you See It but you won't!!! you never will and you just think i'm crazy or stupid or making it up for attention even though it has such obvious fucking consequences and is manifestly Real!!" he was recruited to the wards by miss g herself, who was like hahahhahaa this kid could be a Really Fucking Big Problem if he doesn't have an eye on him!! ^_^ he never wanted to be a hero, and still doesn't, really, but he's terrified of accidentally hurting people & deadwood is like a weight around his neck and maybe things will be better if he just gets out of here. for a while they're not, of course. he just feels like. y'know. he's another sick thing that crawled out of deadwood, and his powers make that obvious. the way they interact with recently dead shit makes him sick!! living with david is awful-- a big, lovely, lonely high rise apartment, an older brother who barely bothers to speak to him, calls to their mom through the walls going "why is he here? why would you send him here? can he like, go anywhere else?"

virion sol / imprint is a trump (meaning his powers interact With other capes powers.) he can copy powers by touching other parahumans-- the copied power is just as strong as the original, whatever the original is, but he doesn't have an innate sense of how to use it; he can easily be overwhelmed or overstimulated by powers that involve a ton of sensory input, or accidentally loose cannon something he wasn't expecting and can't easily control. regardless, this is a fucking insane power to have. it's so cracked. like within the parahumans-- world, this is something so rare, especially being able to copy the full strength of the power. the very few examples in canon of something similar, the copied power is always inferior. his situation was similar to canon-- the greats were a team of independent heroes, & were like, extended family to virion. he grew up unpowered, but in the cape world-- so many aunts and uncles teaching him security, standard protocols, how to fight capes, how to run cape business and independent team business, how to handle guns and tasers and safely run background checks. y'know. a family's worth of professional knowledge. he never really wanted to be a cape, anyway, he was more than happy to do all the unpowered stuff at home that needed to be done. occasionally he came with them on patrol n stuff or snuck out to watch them. the greats' long term goal was prying out the lich, an extremely heavyweight warlord who had control over most of the city. virion's father struck a deal with the lich-- virion knows as little what the deal was For as he does in canon, but he double crossed the entire team. virion snuck along to the confrontation with the lich (setup) & watched his father turn & murder all of them. still not sure if he did it all himself or just watched as the lich's minions did it, but the way they knew all their weaknesses, how efficient and brutal and unexpected it was-- it was his dad feeding the information. virion stays frozen in shock and horror & hidden during all of this. can't do anything to help. is fucking useless, despite all he knows and has done. for the first time in his life, he wished he had powers, that ram and min and everyone could have taught him how to have and use their powers like they taught him everything else. he triggered watching it all happen. after this, he went on the run, terrified that someone would Know that he saw, that they'd be coming for the loose ends, that his dad would come back for him. all he has of his family is a couple piecemeal things he could grab before he ran-- ram's favorite revolvers, a holy medal of alphonz's, some of his mom's sturdy jewelry. anyway, he ran, moved to a different city, new haven. started figuring out his powers, started targeting specifically other capes who were up to bad shit-- minor to mid league villains, the occasional local hero who would Look squeaky clean, but after their sudden death dirty secrets would come out, etc. all very low-key, very subtle. none of the disappearances or deaths looked related. during this period he is SO fucked up. he is so fucked in the head. he's incredibly hypervigilant and paranoid and jumpy (good at looking unbothered and still clocking every single sound and movement and always facing doors and windows), mired in the grief and guilt and horror at. watching his entire family slaughtered and life shattered in a night. sleeps for no more than two hours or so at a time. even on top of the lich and his dad... what he's been doing puts an even bigger target on his back. doesn't have time or heart for anything but the dirty work. is dissociating through the periods of time where he's not actively hunting someone down or on the job. silhouette is the one who puts the pieces together-- of course he's on the protectorate (hero organization) radar. sure he's only been targeting bad guys, but how clean each one was? how well covered they all are? how whoever this is has allegedly killed at least almost two hands' worth of capes in cold blood by now? sets off alarms, if you're looking!!

anyway, silhouette tracks him down, says hey, i know who you are, i know what happened. you're just a kid. you join us, and you'll gain the resources and skill to be able to get revenge. aren't you tired of running? now... virion took to this fast and well when he did, but. before it all, he was just a teenager. despite the family business, he was just some guy! he helped his mom cook and got help with schoolwork at the kitchen table and his cool aunts took him out for lunch. he never wanted this or expected it. and of course he doesn't trust the heroes farther than he can spit, but... it's something. it's better than this. anything has to be better than the way he's driving himself into the ground. & also, of course. if silhouette can find him. anyone else who's looking for him can too. (i don't think he's even registered on the radar of anyone. his dad didn't actually survive the lich, obviously, & he was the only other one who really knew abt virion + nobody knew he triggered. he's just. so fucking paranoid.)

dakota damascus / failsafe is a thinker/mover. he 1) has a precognitive sense of any pain that anyone in a radius around him will feel in the next short amount of time. this is-- varyingly difficult to block. he can't just Choose not to feel it, although the intensity of the feeling, again, varies. mostly proportionally to how severe the pain actually is, or how many people are hurt, but, with time, he can dull or sharpen it + follow the threads of it to discern Who exactly is in pain, rather than just an ambient sensation. 2) is VERY fast & has matching enhanced cognitive speed. these two abilities work SO good together, both in combat situations & also just day to day patrolling. man. i love dakota. anyway, he triggered young-- he was out with his parents (maybe 7/8) and they got caught in an attack by siberian-- a genuinely indestructible, incredibly powerful villain who can just,,, run her hand through a concrete foundation like it's butter & collapse buildings, or scoop out peoples insides in a heartbeat. and also likes to eat people, like, raw and bloody after dismembering them. whatever level of ultraviolent shocking horror u are imagining. double it. anyway. they got caught in the scene of this attack, dakota got separated from his parents in the panic and stampede and rush to get out-- he's seven! it's terrifying levels of panic and claustrophobia and people shoving and trampling and he's not gonna leave without his parents!! of course not!! he triggers from the fear and the disorientation and the panic & he can't find them & he's trying to fight the crowd but he barely comes up past their knees & there's awful sounds of fighting & he's close enough to see her... things are doubly disorienting with the echo of the agony from everyone who gets Fucking Siberianed. he sees most of the fight. um. a while after she's driven away and it's finally finished he finds what's left of his parents. there's a beat in worm, during an encounter with siberian and the Big Heroes, the prime force equivalent, where they just.. give her a victim to chew on because it makes her happier and less of a nightmare to fight. which is something i think about frequently. anyway, after this things are kind of loose, similar to canon. he does the same shit. it's also quieter and you can feel less people hurting the higher up u are. yk? OH GOD. YEAH. at some point after this we still have not hammered it out. he confronts the slaughterhouse 9 (the supervillain group that attacked/siberian is part of) about it & gets his face slit open (half chelsea smile style) & makes a deal to either kill a guy in [n years] or that guy will kill him & several hundred other people!!!!!!!!!!!! dakota damascus killing a man baked into the bones of nhw!!!

anyway he & cat still fell. he underwent a second trigger event when this happened, actually-- the panic and desperation of that situation + the way it echoed his first trigger, etc. this is also super fucking rare, btw. there are very few second triggers & it is almost Never good. (u cannot trigger more than twice + a second trigger is always a refining or an improving of the intent of the original trigger) so that's where the speed etc. came from. tide found him, gave him. a better support system (low bar!!) + a real purpose in joining the wards. i have a lot of feelings abt this.

ashe / auxiliary / muse is also a shaker/breaker!!!!! his backstory i cannot talk too much about because it is Big Spoilers. but he is a fucking powerful telekinetic (around when he joins the wards, having not really used his power in years, he has an upper weight limit of a couple times his body weight & a fairly large radius of effect). he also has a breaker form that only triggers in certain situations & if he really really pushes himself to breaking w/ his powers-- when he enters it, he loses lucidity, for the most part, & starts warping and stretching and breaking space-time in strange, dreamlike ways-- the pavement melts, or everything gets bouncy, or cars and concrete chunks and things with no business moving float slowly around like balloons, or he pulls and crumples reality to move without really moving.... it gets Real fucking bad, real fast. ANYWAY. he eventually sneaks out one night, walks to a gas station to get. snacks. it-- okay, i'm fucking linking mac's post, i CANNOT summarize all of this concisely. go read that. so. that's ashe's deal!!!!!!!!!

THERE'S ALSO. MARK. ASK MAC ABOUT MARK i have typed this entire thing out on myfucking phone keyboard i literally Cannot keep going. help. and also their mark stuff is so fucking good its so. auuuhhgh. AND ALSO DAVID BELL. WHO WORKS FOR THE ORGANIZATION THAT SELLS U SUPERPOWERS IN A CAN W A CHANCE OF GETTING TURNED INTO AN UNRECOGNIZABLE MONSTER AND DOES HUMAN ABDUCTION AND EXPERIMENTATION. AND JADE AND X AND ALLEN ARE THE FREEDOM CITY WARDS AND GRAYSCALE SHAKES OUT EVEN FUCKING WORSE THAN IT DID IN CANON. YEAH.

SO. YEAHG. THATS. THATS THE MOST OF IT. um. yeah. theyre a dreadful little polycule they are. So fucking clingy they r traumabonded. like little trembling chihuahua puppies. separation anxiety and all. virion and dakota share a comfy old victorian house in a suburban neighborhood maybe a fifteen minute walk from the protectorate hq. wibby starts out living w/ david and eventually just... all his stuff moves over to their place. their clothes r all mixed up they know each others blood types they're all sleeping together on the couch. eventually their house gets blown up. they all get various flavors of nightmare & are 1 million shades of debilitatingly mentally ill but like-- it works. they r good for each other. theyre good together. do not separate them. etc. i'm not even gonna fucking START talking abt their dynamics other than that but like. i mean. if you want a repeat of THIS u can always ask!!!!!!!

[rey-jake-therapist]

*sorry I think my ask cut off the first bit here so I'm sending it again (Haladriel reminds me of Darklina, in the sense that both characters are so loved by me individually and the dynamic is fascinating, but as an actual ship in fandom? I have to navigate through the misogynist takes that are reducing the female character to a trophy)

I saw this in the haladriel tag on x and I think I pinned down the reason why there are certain people who can't handle dark ships and won't stop invalidating them by screaming about abuse/misogyny. It's because in their minds, they take things very concretely, not being able to 'read between the lines', and thus it's hard for them to really think in abstract ways. They just can't divorce fictional characters from actual problems in society. Don't get me wrong, there is a parallel between them that exists as a fine line, and we should absolutely call some things out. But in the realm of fictional characters, shipping, and make believe? That's strictly a 'them/individual' problem, not an 'us' problem. There are SO many haladriel shippers. We get so many fanart by talented people, many of whom haven't even heard of Tolkien. Are they supporting misogyny or have they had to 'navigate thru misogynist takes' in order to draw two characters together because they like their dynamic? It's not our fault that these canon police antis can't separate fiction from reality, and see every aggression toward a female character (unless it's by another female character, or it's a m/m relationship) as misogyny, while ignoring actual inequality in societies around us, as well as ignoring the truth that men can also become victims of abuse/violence. It all goes back to the funny hypocrisy of touting a beloved female character with admirable traits like strong, fierce, powerful, but the instant a male character challenges her and shows any kind of aggression at her - because spoiler alert, he's a villain, it's literally how he was written - these canon police antis whine about misogyny instead of just saying they don't see what shippers see in a fictional pairing and leave it at that. Like, it's ok, you don't need a reason to not like a pairing. The funny thing is, for all their fascination on Galadriel and Sauron as individuals, they fail to comprehend Sauron's character beyond what is stated in black and white in front of them (going back to the concrete vs abstract thinking). I'm not even a huge fan of Charlie, and even I can understand the 'seeing Gal as a trophy' bit is just a very simplified jest at the comparison to Morgoth and the Silmarils. If they actually bothered to read more of his interviews, it's very clear he sees her as beyond just that. Oh, she's just another ring to him basically? Ok but then why do I keep hearing cosmic connection spoken by him anytime Galadriel is brought up in interviews? Cosmic connection flew over this person's head like a frisbee.

I hope you don't mind me saying I never liked Darklina 🙈 I don't know if it's because I wasn't a big fan of the show in general, of because of the actor I found too pretty, or the dynamic in general... It just never worked for me.

I'm probably significantly older than most Tumblr users, old enough to remember how Mulder and Scully shippers were shamed and mocked when Internet and forums barely started to be a thing anyway 🤣 If you ever heard of X Files or even better, watched it, you know that there isn't a ship that's more vanilla than this one. And yet shippers were being mocked for seeing romance where there was only "platonic friendship" (joke on them, 9 years later Mulder and Scully were endgame), when we weren't told that "Scully deserved better" because "Mulder was abusive towards her

Shippers were always made fun to and it'll never stop, I'm afraid. I've stopped caring about what anyone has to say about a fictional romance I like tbh. I don't know if you use social media such as Reddit and Twitter, as far as I m concerned avoiding these places help a lot. Haters don't seem aware of Tumblr's existence, and I pray every day that they remain ignorant because I really like it here 💜

The best we can do is to keep having fun with what we love... That won't change these idiot's minds, but it will probably piss them off ;)

[ultfreakme]

I’ve honestly just learned to ignore and block all of Jay’s haters atp because all they’re doing is just trying to get a reaction out of people, mostly DC editorial. They literally message, tag, make essays and do all kinds of shit nonstop just so they can “persuade” the writers at DC to give them what they want, it’s like watching toddlers pulling a tantrum tbh.

If DC editorial cared even a little bit about what these people want or think they would’ve done something about it by now imho. But they probably see how disgusting, evil, and malicious the hate is that they refuse to give them what they want especially for a character who isn’t even a bad person. No one’s hurting them or stopping them from liking the things they like either so their hate really is unfounded.

It’s pretty sad especially for LGBT+ Asians to see so many people have such a vicious and scathing reaction to him simply existing but when people are that mindlessly hateful there’s really not much else you can do but ignore them, and I firmly believe is what DC editorial has chosen to do. I’m just glad Jay is still even present and being mentioned by name in the stories and I really hope they keep him.

Also people don’t realize Jon’s content is very scarce since he’s usually overshadowed by Clark just like how Bruce’s content overshadows his kids, so I hope DC will try to pump out a little more content for him.

I;m usually pretty good about blocking people, like my block list is super duper long and like in my head, I know half of this is just to get a rise out of Jay fans, but sometimes monkey-brain react. But yeah I totally get you.

DC is terrible at handling POC characters and if they didn't want Jay around, he'd be gone. But he's only becoming more prominent as the years pass and he's even part of an event now (a thing I thought won't happen for another 10 years). Like you have no idea, how much I was shaking, when I saw Jon asking for Jay right after coughing up blood and being brainwashed, and also saying "The Truth" is what's important to BQ. It feels especially significant to Jay because we got spoilers from the Nicole & Sina stream that Jay is very present in Absolute Power: Super Son, when Jon was fighting against the mind control. At least with Jon, it's a bit of a reference to Jay too, thematically.

On an objective level, I know Jay is here to stay. A lot of characters who were introduced around the same time as him, or even later than him have just kinda disappeared. But I am glad DC themselves have clearly chosen to ignore the haters regardless of the spam and the hate.

I think these days, there's people turning against the de-age Jon stans(especially on twitter and a lot on tiktok) primarily because they are.......the way they are......General comic fans who aren't particularly into Superfam are recognizing it. I think this is the best the atmosphere has ever been in terms of support and love for Jay and Jon.

And you're so right on Jon's content being scarcer. Other than Batman and Superman, no other character gets consistent books or a guaranteed, continuous run. The others who do have been around for decades, like Poison Ivy, Harley, Nightwing, etc. Even Wonder Woman doesn't have her Sensation Comics. In terms of a bigger picture, for how recent Jon is, he's doing pretty fantastic. He's always in events, he's got two independent runs, he's getting a new solo issue with AP: Super Son. I think we've been getting at least one solo Jon project a year since SOKE.

Relatively speaking, he's fine. And I think people also tend to assume he's being too overshadowed by Clark because the de-agers just dismiss any run where Jon shows up these days, unless it fits their perception of what he is now.

Like I had this argument with someone twitter, where they said you can't count Beast World, Lazarus Planet, Nightwing, Action Comics, and DC Pride appearances as Jon content because they aren't solo books. Which is frankly absurd. This also involves a lot of Jay mentions and appearances.

Jay, Nika and Nia are the only characters who were introduced around that 2021-2022 time that are still relevant, and they continue to grow. I think outside of Tom King, everyone else have also started to realize the Damian-Jon friendship just can't be taken back to the way it was so they're each getting stories very separate from one another. Even Jon's stories and themes are getting more divorced from Clark.

Thanks for the message!! Sorry about vent posting like that. I hope we get to see and enjoy more of Jay in the future! I think we might be getting a new run with Jon, or more of just Jon, Jay and Nia based on Nicole's projects and hwo she talks about their future (she called Jay 'Gossamer' so I'm hoping we get to see him function more a superhero in the future!)

[secret-bug-pain-blog]

@febuwhump Day 24 - "I'm doing this because I care about you."

To anyone looking at this from the Dungeon Meshi tag - if you're anime-only, HERE THERE BE SPOILERS! If you've read the manga, the MAJOR spoilers are for Chapter 28 - plus a scattering of spoilers for later. This is a scene rewrite! Like the first time we've posted "just canon but from a different POV" also! We are counting internal monologue for that dialogue, and we are having Fun with it.

Watch your step, and we hope you enjoy.

From the instant that Marcille draws the first line of dragon's blood, she knows that she's gone too far to back out now.

There's a dreadful, solid certainty lodged in her chest as she brings her staff down, again and again. An awful sort of knowing, of

It's a unique kind of draining. Mana sickness is one thing, but this is another. Each line draws at something deep, deep inside of her soul, drawing more from her than she ever thought a spell could drain. She wants, so badly that it hurts, a sharp, desperate need for this to work. She dips her staff's handle in dragon's blood again, and she ignored the awful feeling of being bled to the bone. She's only ever theorized about dark magic before, never put it into practice herself - every line feels wrong, sickly, diseased, her staff scraping along the flagstones and funneling awful vibrations into her hands.

Every line she draws feels like a wretched, sickly sort of pain. Like picking at a wound that's only halfway scabbed over, half-clotted blood clinging to her fingernails as she picks at where her skin meets a gash, and scraping off the tiny, disgusting pieces of not-quite-scab onto a piece of paper. It's the worst thing she's ever done, and she hates it, every step of it, with a bubbling sense of revulsion that it feels like she'll never be clean of.

If she doesn't do this, then Falin will be dead. And Marcille doesn't want to live in a world where that's true.

She doesn't know how many runes it'll take, really. She knows the pattern, and that's enough - she just has to finish it. One rune, then another. She doesn't need to know how long.

The world, for what feels like a long time, is just her and the runes.

One, then the next. The future doesn't matter. The past is gone. She inks rune after rune in rotting, thickening blood, pausing to re-ink her staff when it runs dry. The only thing that matters is the next rune in the sequence, and it doesn't matter how long it takes. She has a thousand years to live ahead of her, a thousand years to spend doing anything she wants - she doesn't care how many of them she has to spend doing this, if it gives her Falin back. One rune, then the next.

Marcille reaches to dip her staff in dragon's blood a last time, and stops.

The circle is done.

Marcille is already horribly, horribly tired.

More than tired, really. Exhausted, a bone-deep ache in her chest like she's worked out a muscle she never knew that she had. She feels like she's on the brink of passing out, staring down at a circle of dragonblood runes that she's worn her staff's handle down to fraying roots from. The purpose in her chest that was so strong barely a minute ago is fading, flickering. Fatigue knocks into her like a truck, and she's swaying on her feet, struggling to cling on to consciousness.

She knows, more than she's ever known anything before, that she has to finish this.

She thinks of Falin, and she steels her will to move forward.

Pelvis, femur, humerus. Twelve rib bones, easy to tell apart. The vertebrae, the hands and feet - calcaneus, metatarsal, metacarpal. Eight carpal bones in the wrist, hamate, triquetrum, pisiform, lumate, trapezoid, trapezium, capitate, scaphoid. Falin's wrist bones are shorter than hers, shaped different in a way that's both subtle and the most obvious thing in the world. It's all she can do not to stop and stare at them, hypnotized by the broken remains of her friend - tallman bones, white and clean, so unfamiliar compared to Falin's soft frame, so much like the ones she's already seen buried.

She doesn't know what she'll do if Falin's soul has already left her body. She can't allow herself to entertain the idea of it. Falin will live, because she has to live, because she needs to- because Marcille can't let her die.

She lowers her staff, and she starts to chant.

She's doing this because she cares about her. Because she can't live without her. Because the very idea of trying to go on without Falin, after all this effort to find her, after all this effort to bring her back, is poison on her tongue, fire in her veins, a sickly death in the pit of her stomach. She's doing this because she cares about her, because she wants to talk to her again, because she wants to talk with her, to eat with her, to sit shoulder to shoulder with her as she talks about magic again.

She's doing this because she cares about Falin, so badly that it feels like her heart's started to rip itself apart in her ribcage - because she wants her back, because she wants to talk to her again, because she needs to hold her hand again and press her palm against her cheek and tangle her lanky, bony body around her soft tallman chest and hold her so tight that nothing else exists in the world. She's doing this because she needs Falin, with such strength that it nearly feels like she's drowning in her own skin with every moment she's away from her. She wants, so badly that she can barely keep herself from crumpling on the spot under the sheer weight of it.

Falin. Falin. Falin.

She chants her name in her head with every repetition of the spell, wanting, hoping, begging for this to work. The drain feels like she's cut a hole in her very soul, like she's bleeding out her lips with every word she speaks, like she's slicing holes in the vessel that holds all of her being. Falin, Falin, Falin - her soul to her body, the dragon's flesh to her bones, anything to make her whole again, anything to make her well again, anything.

She draws from the well, again and again, driving herself on sheer, desperate desire. Falin, a silent cry beneath the chorus of the spell. Falin, a desperate wish whispered into the darkness of the dungeon. Falin, Falin, Falin, she cries out, again and again, blind and deaf but for the runes carved into the stone. Falin, Falin, Falin, Falin, Falin-

Marcille is more exhausted than she ever has been, more exhausted than she ever knew was possible to be- she tastes bitter blood on her tongue as she chants. She draws from the well deep inside of herself, draws until it's dry and then beyond that, desperation and need driving her on and on and on. Falin, Falin- she digs deeper, deeper, past the well and into the ground beneath. She wants, she wants, she wants-

"Falin..." she starts. The words flicker on her tongue, abruptly uncertain and unclear. She knew what she was saying only a second ago, but now she struggles to put anything to words. The chant fades out, the words leaving her tongue - she can't remember why she was chanting them anymore, can't remember what she was doing. Her limbs feel weak, bowing under her body's weight, her willpower abruptly draining. Her fingers loosen on her staff, suddenly void of all drive they once possessed. She looks down, bleary-eyed, at rusty red runes drawn for a purpose she can't quite remember, and for a moment, there is nothing to her thoughts but the dull echo of a desire nearly entirely devoured.

And then she is unconscious, and she thinks no more.

[ad-hawkeye]

You came up on my recommended feed at the perfect time bc I have Artem brainrot rn AND YOUR ANALYZATION OF ARTEM’S CARDS ARE FANTASTIC! I’m one of the few players that avoids most CN server spoilers, and I’ve been abstaining from pulling most cards so I can pull for 3rd anni(which now I’m kinda questioning if I should LOL), so I missed out on a TON of content for all of the male leads. BUT, from the very few cards I had pulled this past yr, I did notice an odd shift in Artem’s personality. Although, I wasn’t too sure if it was just me being dumb or if it was a real thing that was happening. And after reading some of your posts I kinda want to re-read Artem’s Second Anni Card again bc I was so excited for the artwork from that event, that I didn’t pay much attention to the story LOL However, now that I’ve seen what you’ve said and what many other Artem fans have said, I’m sure my feelings weren’t wrong. And now I’m sad 😢

Artem was my favorite bc his relationship with Rosa felt the healthiest and was built on respecting each other’s boundaries, learning how to set boundaries, and working as a team, while also having a more traditional framework of a male leadership role(which I’m extremely fond of). Artem never restricted Rosa from spreading her wings as his work partner or as his life partner, he simply asked if he could come along beside her where ever she wanted to go. AND LIKE HIS ORIGINAL PERSONAL STORY IS A PERFECT EXAMPLE OF THIS BEHAVIOR! Rosa makes a reckless decision to go get evidence, without Artem, for a the domestic violence case they were working on and almost gets hurt in the process. After that, Artem scolds Rosa for being reckless and for not taking better care of herself. And Rosa doesn’t take it lying down either! They equally argue and get their grievances out in the open, feel bad about later, and apologize. (THE COMMUNICATION IS SO REAL 😩) FURTHERMORE! This incident leads them to learning and understanding how differently they work as lawyers. Artem learns that Rosa is a lot more personal with her clients and handles her cases with an empathetic approach, while he works more pragmatically, so through this case they learn to work to each other’s strengths as partners, covering for what the other person lacks. And the chapters this incident took place in solidified my growing love for Artem bc unlike Luke or Vyn(I’m not sure about Marius bc admittedly I haven’t read his original personal story 😅), Artem doesn’t hinder Rosa by being overprotective like Luke or push her beyond her capacities like Vyn tried to do in his original personal story. Artem allows a natural course of growth to occur in Rosa, while being a hedge of protection for Rosa BUT ONLY when she seems to REALLY need it, and the same can be said for Rosa towards Artem.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, sorry for ranting 😅

WAHHH YOU'RE TOO KIND!! ;_; thank you so much for the sweet words, it really means a lot!!! i'm so so happy you enjoyed my ranting and raving, honestly having a community of super awesome people to talk about this with has been such a comfort and ive made some awesome friends from my time here, even if we don't chat as much anymore!

and omg, do NOT ever feel bad for ranting in my inbox!!!! i've been ranting about tot in the main tag for two years at this point and i will Always be thrilled to read delightfully written meta such as yours!!!!!

i have to say, i entirely agree with all of this. and i mean ALL OF IT. his personal stories 2, 3, and 4 are my absolute favorites of his and gosh that's like. prime artem to me, i think. your ask reminded me of some meta i read such a long while ago about his second personal story (link can be found here, it's SUCH a good read)

i think a huge issue is that artem originally always felt like the antithesis to your typical daddy dom boss character. when you start playing tot, appearances wise, he looks and even comes across as one. but these initial appearances are quickly shattered.

he is absolutely inexperienced with interpersonal relationships. he fumbles the bag CONSTANTLY with rosa. he's terrible at holding conversation, he's constantly apologizing for being boring. he needs his own fucking boss to wingman (haha. wing) for him. he blushes if mc looks at him the wrong way. he's kinda strange. but he's earnest and genuine. he respects rosa's boundaries. he makes mistakes, but learns from them. he gives rosa time to think over her feelings for him so she can still say no to him if she changes her mind.

it's the contrast between this and his initial appearance that makes him interesting. what is extremely bizarre with artem's recent writing is it feels like someone who only read artem's introduction scene got some vague pointers and was like oh. your typical daddy dom boss guy. okay yeah i can write this. and then they did. which . defeats the whole entire point of what made artem compelling in the first place. he was compelling BECAUSE he subverted this trope. by just making him play the trope straight, you remove any and all intrigue from his character.

by not building off of older cards, you abandon all of the plot lines he had set up. they undid any angst in his stories. they dropped his issues with his parents. they downplayed neils impact on his life. he doesn't even grieve for him anymore. he doesnt even think about him most of the time. what happened to entwined fate? praying for neil's safety? what about neil being his father figure? neil potentially betraying the nxx? are we just going to ignore that now so we can watch artem be an insane freak who just apparently woke up with the skills of a sex god, forgot all of the lessons he learned, and doesnt care about consent anymore?

god, now IM ranting.... regardless. youre so right. i hear artem's newest cards are good so im praying those rumors are true : ((

EDIT: SORRY I MEANT TO TALK ABOUT HIS THIRD ANNIVERSARY CARD!!! it's not as bad as his second anniversary card. i know the bar is in hell but it's something. it's pretty contrived in the grand scheme of things (like why are they moving into a house...?) and has some weird moments, but is ultimately not as bad as it could have been in the slightest. i'd say its biggest crime is being boring as sin. holy fuck. i put that shit on 2x speed and i still found myself wanting to fast forward. like nothing happens at all???? it's so bizarre HAHA

[the-one-who-lambs]

AO3 Questions Tag Game!

I was tagged by @bamsara (on my main @onethirdofimpossible but most of my readers follow me here for cotl stuff so I'm posting it here)

I tag @i-eat-deodorant and @megsiepoo!

Under the readmore because this is long as shit

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

69 BAYBEEEE

2 – What’s your total AO3 word count?

213,360 words published

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Previously: Pokemon (no longer online), Steven Universe, a few Deep-Sea Prisoner games (Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea, The Grey Garden, Ice Scream)

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Care and Keeping of Eldritch Gods. Until the rewrite of RL/FG is done, this is my magnum opus

Present My first ever CotL fic. This was the first time I'd written fic in like four years and I was dusting off my writing muscles...

Smitten soft narilamb....

Cat(nip) Boy wrote this for shits and giggles in my early fandom days. The One Who Waits on catnip

How Narinder Takes His Tea First part of the old RL/FG series. Though I'm remaking it as a longform multichap fic, I'm keeping up the old series because of the memories + I don't want other people who saved the old one to lose it.

5 – Do you respond to comments?

All the time! I was able to respond to literally every single comment back in 2022, but as last year went on, I realized I probably can't realistically do that anymore. It's a blessing and a curse.

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

We already knew how this would turn out. Title not given directly in my answer in case of spoilers. My readers saw it coming because I had built up to it, but I took my time writing the gradual reveal in the last chapter to make sure it landed the way I wanted it to.

And one more comment I won't post here bc (for anyone who wants to read it) spoils the ending but shoutout to the person who physically felt the shock lurch through their body when the realization hit them after the slow build-up.

As much as I love angsty stories with happy endings, what gets me more are stories that are happy at face value, with endings that are heartwrenching because of the underbelly of what lurked beneath that facade.

7 – What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God. Bit a spoilers below if you're avoiding that

The original wedding fic (as part of the original series) is up, but it's going to get a good polishing in the rewrite. Lambert and Narinder are going to have a private first dance, Thenana and Narinder are going to have a deeper conversation, Ratau's interactions with Lambert are gonna be shown rather than just told, Aym and Baal will be revived.

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Mostly no. There was one time last year that I was compared to another writer in the fandom and slowly asks evolved into "your own concepts are being done better by others" and shit, and the other writer got hate messages as well, and... well, it was a whole thing. Don't wanna talk too in detail about it because I don't wanna beat a dead horse but cotl writers have unionized so we got the last laugh I guess

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

lol ya it's on remainderofreality. What "kind?" uh. experimental because I'd never tried the genre before this fandom and it kinda shows but that's okay.

10 – Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Honestly, I'm not really into crossovers! Unless it's Webber in cotl. He can stay, he's cute.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah. It was actually the first fic I posted online, ever. In middle school, I wrote a whole ~100k-ish word self-insert pokemon fanfic, which I wrote by hand in like five composition notebooks, so I never posted that online. But after that I decided to post shorter one-shots for pokemon online, and a few months later I found one of mine reposted without credit. Plagiarized entirely, basically. It scared me and I deleted everything I had posted online, and I don't have extra copies of the works now. :(

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I'd be okay with it if I was asked beforehand and proper credit was given!

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yeah! Of Duty and Devotion is basically a glorified roleplay between me as Aym, @i-eat-deodorant as Baal, @checkplzjuliet as The Lamb, and @surfdudeboy as Narinder. I also wrote Hide and Seek, a cute little Bishop family one-shot, with @lordiedams (hi Damien I miss you).

14 – What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Narilamb. I haven't focused on a ship for this long, except maybe Rupphire back in the day, but I'm fixated so much more on CotL than I was for SU.

15 – What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Honestly, Of Duty and Devotion lmao. I'm much more focused on my own projects and so are Pavi, Surf, and Juliet. I do want to finish it though.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

Pacing, diction, syntax, getting the intended point across and doing it well. Once I commit to doing something, I don't usually let myself "give up" on it, hence why I barely have any unfinished WIPs. That's a skill honed with tons of practice, though. I have massive ADHD, and I'm bad at finishing things, but when it comes to writing by god I'm gonna do it.

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

I often struggle to get to a point where I'm totally focused in on what I'm writing. It does happen once or twice a month, but honestly, I'm usually so busy with life stuff that I don't get to do that most of the time! I wish I had more time to make room for my hobbies, but alas. At least summer is coming up, and I'll be able to do that more often, hopefully!

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's possible to do it naturally for sure, but I rarely see it done well in fic. I've never attempted it...... or, wait, have I? I guess Thenana's sign language counts, huh? ...I feel like I need to do more research about this topic to answer the question properly.

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Pokemon <3

20 – Favorite fic you’ve written?

The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God or The Care and Keeping of Eldritch Gods.

Risen/Fallen (and the enemies-to-lovers narilamb dynamic) was like the first thing that I did to make a "mark" on this fandom, and I didn't expect it to inspire so many people for sure! But, the first iteration of the series was so rushed. I wrote the whole thing in just over three weeks and averaged one chapter published every day and a half. Now that I have a better grasp on the characters after playing with them for a long while, I get to see my improvement, and I get to see so many friends I've made along the way sticking with me, the revamped "director's cut" version is definitely on track to be my favorite work.

However. It has yet to surpass Care and Keeping. As the oldest of four kids in my family, I based so much of Shamura on my experiences as an eldest sibling, and many of the experiences the younger bishops had in their formative years on our own childhoods. I based Narinder's childhood off of brother #1's (brother who is two years younger than me), Kallamar's childhood on my own, Heket's childhood on my sister's (five years younger than me), and Leshy's off of my youngest brother's (ten years younger than me). This story wasn't just an exploration of the Bishops and their dynamic/relationship pre-canon, it's also a testament to my own love as an eldest sibling... and all the anxiety associated with that, too.

Thanks for tagging me! Back to working on my presentation...

[vukovich]

READ ON AO3

Seahorse (working title) by Anon (Vukovich) Status: 95k WIP (Part 1 of 2) to be completed in 2024 Tags: So, so many. More than what's listed. Rating: E Summary:

Galatians 5:22-23 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.

--

As Julian K. Harbor puts it, “God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation.” ― Daniel M. Lavery, Something That May Shock and Discredit You

--

About this work:

Chapters are book ended with passages from Something That May Shock and Discredit You, by Daniel M. Lavery as well as the Bible. Scriptures are written every day, and where there is queerness, we can't help but see divinity.

Read with caution, read with care.

--

A/N: I told myself I'd share this when it was finished or when it had been a year, and so here we are a year later. As is, the current stopping point makes for a decent happy ending. You can stop there. If you want the full story upon completion, you can subscribe to the work for notification. View this as a restaurant soft opening for Tumblr followers. The menu is scribbled on a piece of cardboard, the staff isn't sure what they're doing, the wait time is unreasonable, but goddamn if this shit isn't fresh.

Take care, and dm me for content spoilers as needed.

[jokertrap-ran]

[スタオケ] La Corda d'Oro Starlight Orchestra Main Story Chapter 3-4 Translation

*Starlight Orchestra Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Main story tag will be #Main Starlight

We don't have enough members in our Orchestra… What should I do…

Akira: Yo, Concertmistress. Why so glum?

Seiji: It has to do with the joint concert, doesn't it? I heard. It's been decided that a violin concerto has to be performed.

Seiji: And now, you need to gather more members. Can't really blame you for looking all glum about it.

It would be great if someone actually joined us….

Music Ed Guy: Speaking of, don't you think the size of the store’s Katsu Sandwich has shrunk? Not that the price had changed…

Music Ed Girl: Oh? Really? 

Akira: Hm?

Music Ed Guy: N-Nevermind!

Music Ed Girl: Sorry! 

Music Ed Girl: Why's there such a scary guy in our school…?

Music Ed Guy: That guy's a member of the Starlight Orchestra.

Music Ed Guy: How frightening. Let's not get involved with them.

Akira: And what did I do? I was just interested in their conversation about Katsu Sandwiches…

Seiji: Looks like you've got a difficult road ahead of you. 

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Sakuya: —Hello? Where are you now, (L/n)? 

Sakuya: Actually, no. It doesn't matter where you are. Come to The Magnolia, quick. 

Sakuya: You'll know once you get here. I can't really share more details with you right now. 

Sakuya: See you later.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Seiji: Looks like it's urgent. You should go ahead.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Sakuya: Well… everyone here wants to try out for our ensemble.

Music Ed Girl 1: Are you Starlight Orchestra’s Concertmistress? I look forward to working with you!

Music Ed Girl 1: —So, where's Kirigaya-san? Where'd he go?

Music Ed Girl 2: Where’s Osakabe-san? The dashing bespectacled Osakabe-san!

Music Ed 3: It's useless to hide them from us! We've heard! We've all heard!

Music Ed Girl 3: We heard that the Starlight Orchestra’s been gathering some dashing guys with a hint of danger around them as of late~

Music Ed Girl 1: Being rough around the edges is a charm point that none of the other students here have!

Music Ed Girl 4: Eh~ I think Narumiya-kun’s better! He seems like a nice and kind person.

Music Ed Girl 5: R-Ryuzaki-kun too…! He might be a little scary, but… he's actually a cutie…

Music Ed Girl 6: My choice’s definitely Kujo-Kun! I want to be glared at by those cool and icy eyes~ ♪

Music Ed Girl 3: It’s not fair if you’re the only one who gets to have a memorable time here. You should be fair to all of us!

Music Ed Girl 3: And that’s why we joined this Orchestra. You should be grateful.

⊳ Choice: I don’t care as long as you’re joining us

MC: ~ ♪

⊳ Choice: Wait, your motive for joining is a little…

Music Ed Student 2: Aren’t you recruiting members? We’re saying that we’ll join you. A thank you would suffice.

Akira: What’s going on here, Concertmistress? Why are there so many pe—

Music Ed Girl 1: It’s Kirigaya-kun!

Music Ed Girl: Excuse me~!

???: Are you okay?

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

???: *Chuckles* You seem very surprised. You still have that stunned look on your face.

⊳ Choice: Everything happened so suddenly…

???: How adorable, but you can't go around making those innocent doe-like eyes.

⊳ Choice: I’m good!

???: That's a pity. Looks like you ran away.

⊳ Choice: (Cling to her a little longer)

???: Are you sure you want to do this in front of this many people? How bold of you.

Rei: I'm Kosaka Rei, a third-year from the Music Education course, and I play the Tuba.

Rei: May I join the Starlight Orchestra as well?

⊳ Choice: Of course…

Rei: I'm glad to hear that. I look forward to working with you, (L/n)-san. Rei: What a relief… I was a little nervous, you see. Rei: I'm no different from these girls here, so I was worried you'd turn me down.

⊳ Choice: Do you also have your eye on someone, Kosaka?

Rei: Perhaps. Maybe I do have my eye on someone here.

⊳ Choice: Is it Kirigaya…?

⊳ Choice: Let me guess, Osakabe…?

⊳ Choice: Could it be, Ryuzaki…?

⊳ Choice: On Ginga, maybe…?

Rei: Unfortunately, no. 

⊳ Choice: Then…

Rei: Nope. You can dish out as many names as you want, but you probably won't know who I really have my eye on.

Rei: You’re the one who caught my eye, (L/n)-san.

⊳ Choice: Blush

Rei: How cute, but you're so easy to fool that way.

⊳ Choice: I'm confused

Rei: *Chuckles* Sorry if that troubles you. I'm just joking, please forget I said anything.

⊳ Choice: We share the same feelings…

Rei: *Chuckles* Really? I'll take you for your word, you know…

Rei: Well, I can't keep the Concertmistress from her job any longer than I have now, can I? Go on.

Rei: You'll have to check on everyone's sections as well, right? Sounds like you have your work cut out for you. I wish you the best of luck, (Y/n)-san.

Sakuya: …In any case, it looks like things worked out in the end. We can scrape by with this makeshift Orchestra, so it looks like we're off the chopping block for the time being. 

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬Main Starlight♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Previous Part: (Chapter 3-3) Next Part: (Chapter 3-5)

[mr-faxmachine]

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS RELICS OF THE OLD FAITH SPOILERS DOWN BELOW, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. ...Spoilers also in tags, be careful.

This also sets place in the Divine Hubris AU, way after the main game story is finished. so things may differ from canon.

A mother's tears: Page 1/4

Fanfic suggestion by @skeletondanc3r

Ever since his declaration as the new god of death, the lamb has endlessly bartered with the ancient entity. It has been many a year since the days he would crusade against the bishops; Fighting them to no end, he grew tiresome. He felt as if this was going nowhere, nothing new has happened since he rescued the four bishops. Heket walked up to the Lamb with a curious gaze, sitting down with him as he stared out into the distance.

"………You… look tired…" She tried her best to speak, but with a missing throat, it is rather complex. She put her hand up to her own throat, feeling a bit of pain every time she spoke. "Oh, it's nothing… nothing, really…" He was rather quiet, somber in his moment of silence. "Just that, it's-" Heket would put her finger on the Lamb's mouth, trying to shush him.

"….Shamura…….. ….. felt….. worse….." Heket would cough up some blood, refusing to speak any longer as she went back to the cult; leaving through a portal as The Lamb gathered his thoughts. "They felt worse…? What did she… nevermind, I'll just head back." He went to go through the portal, but…

"…I sense god tears, young god." The mysterious entity spoke. Curiously, the lamb went to their doorstep. "Oh, right… What will I get this time, I wonder? Another missionary necklace? An immortality necklace?" The small Lamb would give a god tear to the entity, as he closed his eyes. "…This will do, young god. Use it well." When the Lamb opened his eyes, he saw something unusual; A moon necklace?

"But… I can get this from any crusade, what does this-" He was interrupted by the entity, who spoke out unto him. "We sense you are growing dull, so we give you this charm. It is not the same as the night necklace." Perplexed, he would walk back to the portal with a bit of hesitation. Where he was greeted by a worried Kallamar. "O-oh thank the gods! You're back safe! How was the crusade, are you hurt?! Do you-"

"Save your breath for a moment, I need time to think!" The Lamb would rush inside the private quarters of his Temple, studying the peculiar charm closely. "What… is this? I've never seen a charm like this before!" Unlike the gold necklace that gives immortality, this necklace is unusual. It bares the moon, yet it seems to not have an insomnia spell attached to it… It looks too different.

After a few hours, The Lamb would come back out still puzzled. Scratching his head as he went on to do his daily duties, meeting up with Shamura who wanted to speak with him. "…What do you think this is, Shamura?" He would put it in Shamura's clutches, they look carefully at it… as if they're remembering something.

"…Well well now… this is rather unusual, I feel… familiarity… " Shamura was confused, taking a closer look at the necklace… then it hit them. "Necklaces made from sun and moon's tears, trapped souls in the depths of limbo, shed their turmoil and let them free… Sacrifice is key." Shamura suggested, which made The Lamb shiver.

"Sacrifice? Haven't I done enough of that…?" He got on his knees, about to weep from the words Shamura said. "You know what happened to Prince Cuddles, you know what happened to Allocer, AND YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO- To…" The lamb nearly broke down, shaking from anger and sadness at the same time, he put his hands on his eyes, Shamura started to feel the pain…

"Now now… it is not the time to mourn, my grace… Let us converse at a later date…" Shamura wiped the tears from their eyes, sniffling a bit. "You do not want to give me a migraine." Shamura then left to the temple, leaving The Lamb to his duties. He went back out to see the spider merchant Helob.

"Aaah, my number one customer! How can I help you today, yes?" He licked his lips, patting the webbed up follower. "This one doesn't look that tasty… how about I give it to you for free?" The lamb nodded, taking the follower with him. "Listen, I do not want to get attached. Here's a necklace and get in the temple." The follower shivered, walking to the center as most of the lamb's followers looked away, shivering.

Then, a giant tendril shot from the ground, grabbing the needless follower as they screamed, the lamb looking down at themselves as his fist clenched, bringing down the follower into the other dimension. All grew silent as the portal stayed open, unable to close. "W-what? What's going on? Why won't it close?" The lamb tried his best to close it, but it won't budge. He went down to check it out as the followers felt curious as well.

"…YOU WILL CONTAIN ME NO LONGER, BEAST!" A warcry yelled out, a black and white tendril erupted from the portal, with a hooded being stabbing at it with a familiar moon scepter; Slicing it in two, the mysterious figure then landed upon the floor, all of the followers shocked as the figure unhooded itself… "Back! Stay back! I will slice your belly open! I will cut that crown from your HEAD!"

"Hold on… You!?" The Lamb was shocked as he saw the little cat, Aym… his expression went from anger to tiresome after seeing Narinder. "What foul place is this? Moments ago I was… I was…" Aym then fell on his knees, his weapon falling to the ground with a few clangs… Proceeding to fall face first onto the floor as the portal closes, becoming unconscious.

A few hours later, Aym groaned as he woke up in a bed with a bandage covering his upper head. "Where… where am I…? Who… how…?" He then looked to his side, seeing some food left out as he's nestled in blankets. Narinder was standing by the door, crossing his arms with an agitated expression. "Oh, good… you're awake." He frowned, looking in the other direction. "M-master…? Did… did we fail you…?"

Aym looked sad, trying to reach for the tray. He proceeded to cough a little while he began to look at the note left for him. "I remember you. A small, adorable kit… Eat well, you need this. -S" The note read, as Narinder began to comment on the cat's constant coughing. "So I see the blasted lamb couldn't heal your breathing problem." He then walked toward Aym in his bed, sitting down in the chair.

"…Yes, Ahem… He called it "Asthma". Both me and my brother-… Where's Baal?" Aym asked, looking at Narinder's staring eyes. "And uh… your tail is showing." With this remark, Narinder was startled and blushed in embarrassment. "SHUT UP, AYM." Narinder growled as he grabbed his own tail, with a little meep coming from Aym. "O-of course, Master!" Then the lamb came in with a white-robed individual… looking familiar, Aym stared at him.

"….Hey." The Lamb smiled, relieved that Aym is doing okay. He sets Baal down on the bed, wringing some water on the cat's head. "…Brother…." Aym spoke, eating more soup as he felt more relief, seeing him next to him. "Is he… okay, Master?" Aym rubbed his head, still having a headache from the sudden drop. "….Narinder, we need to talk outside."

The two left as Aym continued to enjoy his soup, staring at his sleeping brother with a bit of worry; trying to pet him in his sleep as he considers his place in the world.

--TO BE CONTINUED--