#he doesn't tell this story at all

[divineprank]

Do you remember the first time you took a life?

With the question presented to him, Ganondorf's usually sharp and focused gaze suddenly seems to lose its edge. The intensity that seems so deeply burned into his amber eyes now flickers and fades, giving way to something much more somber; it's as if a shadow has fallen over his powerful gleam, casting a shroud of darkness that seems to sink into the depths of what remains of his soul. The lines around his eyes deepen significantly, etching a story of pure remorse and, for a moment, the weight of his past choices bears heavily down upon him.

"Yes," he answers tersely, his voice low and dripping with the sound of regret. He takes a moment to steel himself before continuing.

"It was a moment of youthful recklessness. A dust cloud had been kicked up in the training ground and it had only amplified thanks to our frenzied sparring. My focus kept wavering and I found my attention falling back to my feet. The sands had begun to obscure the surface of the stone arena flooring, making it slick with a thin layer of shifting grains that offered little purchase for my bare soles."

"Every step I took became a careful negotiation with the ground beneath my feet and my young mind quickly lost patience. I had grown fervent and angry. With sand stinging my eyes, and my feet unable to stay steady, I tried to force myself to listen to the clashing of our metal but what I heard instead was a thud."

"I will never forget the look of disbelief in her eyes and how small she seemed crumpled to the ground in front of me... The shame that clung heavily to my shoulders and dug its nails into my flesh brought about an important lesson for a young king, but perhaps one learned in the harshest way possible."

[asthedeathoflight]

I think an underrated angle on 2x05 is something that either Jacob or Assad said in some interview somewhere, which is that in that episode Louis is addicted to heroin. Thats why he has that whole stash of drugs that he gives to Daniel, that's why he gives Daniel the drugs even though he's already got him alone. He didn't just use those 128 boys for sex he was using them to get high. Bring them home, get them to shoot up, and then drain them to get that secondhand high.

It clarifies something that's always confused me about that scene, which is why Armand saves Daniel the first time. He wouldn't save Daniel as a person, he clearly knows Daniel needs to die, but he's not seeing Daniel as a person there. Daniel is just a substance. He rips him away from Louis to stop him from using.

And i think that adds a whole other layer to the fight he and Armand have to think that this is Louis on a bender, with Armand cleaning up after him because he's not stable enough to. Louis in the bed for a week isn't just healing from the burns, he's going through withdrawal. Him at the table with Daniel giving him the "bright young reporter" speech is probably the first time he's been sober in months.

It adds another layer to Armand's desperation, that Louis has been running from both Armand and himself in this way, and of course Armand wants to erase that memory. Of course he wants to pretend that that fight never happened. Not just to protect himself but in a way to protect Louis from having said those things. When he describes the fight to Louis afterwards, he says "you said the worst things you've ever said to me." And he doesn't really know how to forgive Louis for that so he just wants to bury this rock-bottom moment and move on like it never happened. After all, Louis was high, he didn't really mean it, but if he remembers then maybe he might think that he had a point. Better to wipe the whole experience away.

[cuntylouis]

I feel like many people have a fundamental misconception of what unreliable narrator means. It's simply a narrative vehicle not a character flaw or a sign that the character is a bad person. There are also many different types of unreliable narrators in fiction. Being an unreliable narrator doesn't necessarily mean that the character is 'wrong', it definitely doesn't mean that they're wrong about everything even if some aspects in their story are inaccurate, and only some unreliable narrators actively and consciously lie. Stories that have unreliable narrators also tend to deal with perception and memory and they often don't even have one objective truth, just different versions. It reflects real life where we know human memory is highly unreliable and vague and people can interpret same events very differently

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Good morning, Sleepyhead.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[bacchuschucklefuck]

pygmalion and galatea for aroace people

you should tell your friends what I look like, riz gukgak.

[dol--blathanna]

Thinking a lot about Orym choosing a rabbit when asked what animal he would pick if cursed with lycanthropy.

Because, it makes sense. Orym is small, quick, agile, jumps well, and is highly perceptive. That definitely evokes rabbit imagery. But a lot of Orym’s identity is also tied up with being a protector – giving people AC bumps, the shield being as much a part of his fighting style as his sword, even his title: Saviour Blade of the Tempest. He wants to be a “Shield that protects Exandria”; his priorities about saving the gods are less about the gods themselves, and more about protecting the people of Exandria from the unintended consequences and bloodshed of releasing Predathos. And it would’ve been very easy to pick a large, strong predator to try and evoke the sense of a protector – a wolf, for example, an animal associated with loyalty and protecting its pack. Yet Orym chose a rabbit.

And I think that’s interesting, because rabbits are often seen as ‘cute’ animals – but they’re also a prey animal. In fact, they’re a common food source for many animals across several ecosystems: foxes, wolves, wild cats, dogs, birds of prey like eagles or owls, coyotes, stoats, and humans (and that’s just off the top of my head). Rabbits are skittish, easily frightened; to be rabbit-hearted is to be timid or cowardly. They are not generally associated with fierceness or prowess in fighting. Mice and rats are prey animals too, but typically seen as vermin (rabbits are sometimes seen as vermin too, but a farmer could eat a rabbit – they wouldn’t eat a rat). Deer are prey, but they have hooves and antlers that bring a danger to hunting them, for any animal – the difficulties of hunting rabbits are more related to their evasiveness, speed and good hearing than any life-threatening danger they might pose. Rabbits are, first and foremost, prey animals. They are killed and eaten, so that another animal might live.

Which made me think a lot about one of Orym’s other key traits: self-sacrifice. Bait and switch doesn’t just bump up his ally’s ACs, it specifically switches their place to put him directly in harm’s way. Goading attack is meant to encourage enemies to attack him instead of his friends. He literally made a deal with a hag, essentially exchanging his own life for power to protect his friends. How many times has he gone down in a fight? He’s not the only tank – but unlike Ashton (and Chetney, who also uses ‘self-sacrifice’ in his fighting style with his blood curses) he has no abilities to reduce the damage from the hits he takes (barbarian rage and the werewolf form).

(Side note: I think it’s pretty interesting that Chetney, the wolf, has attacked Orym, the rabbit, more than anyone else when losing control. That Orym’s facial scar was given to him by a friend, not a foe).

Of course, Orym isn’t the only character with self-sacrificial tendencies (FCG wins by a landslide), but I just can’t stop thinking about how weirdly perfect it is that he chose a rabbit for his animal. Rabbits are prey animals. They are eaten, so that other animals may live. Orym takes the hits, he goads and switches with his team mates to put himself in danger, he makes a deal with a hag at the cost of his own life. He’s a soldier, throwing his life away for a cause over and over again because Ludinus must be stopped, because Keyleth has put her trust in him, because it’s the only way to protect his friends, to protect everyone, because it’s the right thing to do. Orym is a rabbit. He’s always been a rabbit. That day in Zephrah, it could have easily been Orym who died instead of Will and Derrig – “unfortunate but necessary sacrifices”, as Ludinus viewed the attack. It’s unfortunate they had to die, but it was for the greater good, according to Ludinus. It’s unfortunate that a rabbit has to die, but it will feed a family of foxes, or stoats, or even a hungry human, so it’s acceptable, right?

Orym is a rabbit. He is giving himself to a greater cause that could very easily kill him – he already willingly signed his life away to Nana Morri. Because that’s what rabbits do. They die to feed others.

And the theme of being disposable is present across the entire group, not just in Orym – Bell’s Hells has been called a “party of NPCs” before. Aside from FCG’s death, I’d say Laudna perhaps fits this theme the best: she was literally murdered and hung from a tree simply because she looked similar to Vex, acting as a warning to adventurers she had never met before. But FCG’s death was – rightfully – viewed as a terrible tragedy by the group. Laudna’s decision to remove Delilah, finally freeing herself from her abuser and emphasising she is more, and deserves to be more, than just some disposable puppet – this was rightfully viewed as a very good thing! But Orym seems to be embracing this identity of self-sacrifice instead, rather than this mindset being properly challenged or acknowledged as a bad thing. After all, there’s no time. There’s too much at stake. Keyleth, Bell’s Hells, all the memories of those who have died in this fight, all the people who might die if Predathos is released and kickstarts a second Calamity – they’re all relying on him, right? A rabbit feeding so many animals with his sacrifice. And it’s not malicious compared to the way that, say, Delilah killing Laudna was an incredibly evil, fucked up and unnecessary thing to do. If Orym died to save everyone else, well, at least everyone else would be saved, right? Saving lives is good, isn't it? How could he complain?

Because rabbits are prey animals, and Orym is a rabbit too. Destined to die so that another animal may feed.

Except, that’s not true. Rabbits are more than just prey. They’re highly social, and thrive best living with others. They’re playful, they enjoy running around and kicking their legs just to show their enjoyment. They’re inquisitive and mischievous, even being associated with tricksters in some folklore and stories. They’re also associated with innocence, playfulness, spring, youth – all manner of things, depending on the story or culture. And they’re not helpless, either, even if they might be thought of as such. They can bite and scratch and draw blood quite easily if they want to! In fact, freezing up isn’t their only response when being attacked by a predator, they are known to fight back if cornered. They can sprint quickly, they have excellent hearing and senses of smell, they know how to evade predators.

Rabbits are prey, and they are also survivors. They have their own social dynamics, their own habits and dislikes and preferences. They are more than just a wolf’s meal. And Orym is more than a soldier, too. He’s more than a “necessary sacrifice”, he’s more than just a shield and sword. He deserves more than to die for a cause. He deserves a happy ending, just like everyone else. I hope he remembers that.

Orym is a rabbit. And the message isn’t that he shouldn’t be a rabbit. It’s that rabbits are worthy of surviving, too.

[starcurtain]

Sometimes I think about the fact that we have absolutely no information on how long Aventurine actually spent in slavery.

He fled from the Avgin massacre as a young child, and we didn't see him again until he was a grown adult. I doubt he could have survived entirely on his own at that age and Sigonia's conditions seem too harsh for people to randomly adopt orphans, especially from a rival/outcast clan...

We do know that the master we see on screen was not his only master, because he was purchased from someone else, but we have no idea how many masters he had total before his final one, how many times he could have fled and been recaptured, how many times he was bought and sold...

We do know that Aventurine appears to have been kept on Sigonia or somewhere similarly tribal for those missing years, since his first request to the IPC is for Jade to take him to her "chief," but we don't even know how long Aventurine has been out of slavery. He doesn't look massively different in age from his "trial" with Jade to how he looks in-game now, and he did not rise through the IPC ranks over time like Topaz but won his role directly through his gamble with Jade and then later proving himself on Iymanika.

Basically, all this is leading to a big question: Is it possible that the Aventurine we know is only barely out of slavery? That there may be something like five years or fewer separating him from the wastelands of Sigonia? That he learned all these new behaviors, all this new information about how to operate as a free person in the universe, in what likely amounts to 2-3 years of Jade's guidance and his own hard work?

Man, what an incredible character. Really a standout among my very favorites.

[carlyraejepsans]

One thing I think people forget is that sans probably wouldn’t talk about missing his home and never being able to go back and giving up unless he absolutely felt he had to

with frisk he’s pretty sure that’s the time traveler that could very well end the entire world. He’s trying to reason with em as a someone he’s hoping could be a friend at that point because he’d really rather not have that happen

In geno is IS the end of the world and he’s hoping you’ll realize this is stupid and cruel and reset. It’s not like he’d have this conversation on a random Tuesday with papyrus

yeah agreed, sans goes out of his way to not talk to/with papyrus about their life before the underground. remember the newsletter q&a? (this is more a theory, but judging from their behavior i personally think papyrus is an amnesiac/sans thinks he is, and he's trying to spare him the grief of remembering).

his memories and mementos are stored behind his house for a reason, he's had his realization that he'll never go back already: there's no sense in reopening that wound again if he has an option to avoid the topic.

[ofswordsandpens]

one day, ONE DAY, I'll write (rewrite) my Alaska au where Annabeth chose to go with Luke in botl, changing the trajectory of everything, meaning Percy chose godhood in tlo.

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon (she/her). her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[trensu]

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said. 

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention. 

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you��” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again. 

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord." 

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted. 

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied. 

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens. 

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased. 

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction. 

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard. 

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion. 

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily. 

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is…is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly. 

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.” 

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice. 

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own.  "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?" 

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow. 

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind. 

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

------

*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

------

and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

[triglycercule]

instead of nightmare approaching horror to recruit him for the gang i think it would be cooler if he talked to undyne about it. because she would not hesitate TWICE to ship horror off to fuck knows where in the multiverse

like booo booo boring horror would never cooperate and agree to join nightmare without him doing some extra work that he cant be bothered 2 do bc its doesn't benefit him enough 4 the effort put in. AND THAT METHOD DOESN'T EVEN GIVE HIM MORE NEGATIVITY!!!!! nonono the king deserves a show :3 so he goes to undyne who's the craziest of everyone in horrortale and yk yk does some stupid mind manipulation. maybe in exchange for horror he makes up some bullshit lie about how he could save alphys (is she even alive atp) or the rest of the underground and provide them food (like the same deal that nightmare WOULD offer horror) and undynes like 70x more fucked up than horror so of course she's accept in a heartbeat. shes the queen!!!! shes supposed to provide for her subjects (even tho shes kinda. erm. making them all suffer)!!!! and all it would take was a sacrifice of the guy she lowkey doesn't like??? undyne has more reason to accept a deal like that from nm than horror ever would. and it wouldnt be the first time she sacrificed horror anyways lol

idk she sends royal guards out to snatch up horror in the middle of the day (nightmare told her to make it dramatic and tense :3) (all of snowdin would probably follow in concern because OMG WHERE IS SANS GOING????) and then yeah. just like that horrors gone! nightmare probably didn't even give him a chance to say bye to paps. undyne never ends up getting the food nightmare promised because hes a bitchass like that (and papyrus probably ends up taking up the full leader role of food provider for snowdin (if undyne even lets snowdin stay out of her control) good luck for him!)

if horror had a nickel for everytime he got forced to be a sacrifice he'd have 2 nickels. which is actually 2 too much in his eye HES PISSED!!!!!! rightfully so become man ☹️ taken away from his world without even a choice or a reason (to his knowledge) or anything to benefit him??? and now hes STUCK in this disney movie castle with two freaks who look like him (what the FUCK) and then the most annoying THING he's ever had the misfortune of getting kidnapped by. he is in misery. it sucks. he IS infact bitter. if he ever came back to horrortale (which he literally would never get to without dying or losing his stolen eye) he would 500% commit anarchy and finally get rid of undynes annoying ass ‼️‼️

[countlessofvoids]

Me somewhere in 2026 when a new God of War game is announced and instead of Atreus or Faye oriented game it's another Kratos prequel

[shiraishi--kanade]

I have Words to Say about disabled characters in Proseka but I'm especially kind of... Eeh about Saki, because of how perfect she is.

I've talked about this before but Saki is just not allowed, by the narrative, to be flawed. We have some very, very brief moments of anger or lashing out from her (NSNF, Doll Festival in particular), but aside from that Saki is just... So cliché and surface-level regarding her disability. That especially reflects in how the writers handled her relationship with Leo/need.

Yes, she is not angry at her friends for, let's call it what it was, abandoning her (besides Ichika). She is not upset with them or feels betrayed by them. She just forgives them for doing that because she's a good friend and that kind of person, to not dwell on the past and just look forward. She's only really upset at her illness, rate, and herself.

Do you know how shitty of a story that is to sell to disabled people? Oh look, this character suffered a lot and then their friends just stopped visiting them at some point! But no big deal though, they're all good! She doesn't hold a grudge against them so it's actually totally understandable and fine and you should look up to that attitude.

Sure, Saki isn't upset with Honami and Shiho. My point is that she fucking should be. I know their reasons and I don't care about them; what they did is shitty and I hate how the story just moved on from that and we never confront that again and probably won't. Why the hell not? It would make for an interesting conflict and story. It would make Saki an absolutely stunning character, and reflect many of our struggles with loving and caring for people that don't understand us and don't stand with us. Why do we have a story we do now, where Shiho and Honami's fuck up only bothers them but not the person they hurt?

Oh wait, I know the answer: because god forbid disabled characters be anything than inspiration porn.

[clowndensation]

it's like. louis attempted to tell this story to daniel the first time, broke down, and attacked him before he could finish it.

and then decades later he's convinced himself that it was leaving the story unresolved that's holding him back from living his life fully now. so he invites daniel back again. and louis is sitting poised and put together, confident in his ability to recite his history in a pretty, poignant, neat little narrative that will resolve all the guilt and yearning and emptiness inside of him. that if he can just tell a compelling, satisfying story, maybe it will actually be that, and not the life he lived through, with all the pitfalls of his own failures lurking inside.

and then season 1 ends with him once again being forced to confront that the story he wants to imagine and the life he actually lived aren't the same thing. the boundaries around his narrative are shredded and he's left exposed, and subsequently able to face his past for the first time since that original interview. and you think, you think, "well this is it. they've crossed the event horizon. there's no use hiding the truth anymore, not after it's come flooding out into the open like this"

and then season 2 opens. not only is it back to the original, practiced distance, we now have armand literally enforcing that distance. a man sitting at the table who's interjections must be disregarded, an intentional interruption to the flow of the story. he doesn't exist to aid or add detail, he exists to distract louis when he gets too deep in the story. the only time we do get louis allowing any deep truth to come out is when armand leaves the room.

it's like. louis wants a story that's true, and the truth is what he's convinced will leave him satisfied. armand wants a story that will satisfy louis, to the extent louis will accept it's true.

[somegrumpynerd]

@pigeonstab Oh this is fun to explore you're right

I tend to hc they don't know the story but they've picked up bits and pieces. Nightmare does not want to share, he'll avoid all attempts by others to ask about his past or what happened and he thinks he's done a fairly good job keeping them in the dark.

The problem is his boys are all Sanses. Classic Sans does not get his information by asking, he loves to read between the lines and make safe assumptions, and all his boys have a little bit of that still in them. So any time he's mentioned something off-hand or shown a bias towards one thing or another, they've been filing it away.

They don't know about his childhood (much) or what happened between him and Dream that caused all this, but they know he has a dubious past with mortals in some form and they assume it's to do with how he looks and that he feeds off negativity. They know he gets unnerved by large crowds and the sounds of apples crunching. They know he can't stand to see someone left alone in miserable circumstances.

But, alternatively, it would be really funny if he told them a fake story and they'd all been working off that the whole time