#i hope the full context puts this in a different light

[familyagrestefanblog]

As glad as I am that at least the Sublime conflict is more than just Marinette regressing on all the character development (the show mostly gave mere lip service for her to have had of-screen in the first place)

But good God, as far as the leaks show, Marinette is being cuddled through every second of the upcoming episode. I have never seen a show THIS dedicated to make sure the main character experiences nothing but fluffed up consequences for her actions where everyone gives maximum effort to make sure she feels as little discomfort as possible

Which btw is effort Marinette rarely actually makes in return because the show is too busy having her prioritize her every whim and comfort and benefit too which everyone else eventually has to bow to to make her comfortable.

This honestly feels genuinely inappropriate for a kids show at this point and I hope the full context saves this. Cause if a parent handled their child's morally questionable behaviour which such child's- ego- centered morality, one would very quickly called it out as the bad parenting it is because it's spoiling the child rooted, making them believe nothing is more important than any feeling of discomfort they ever experience, no matter their actions, no matter the circumstances. If the world isn't cuddling the child for the pathetically low standard of having feefees then the world is "in the wrong and mean".

The show wants to get credit for covering compelx interpersonal conflicts, but refuses to send any other message since s4 besides that the world around you (as your life's Main character) is obligated to pamper and cuddle you for having any slither of complex emotions which apparently makes you "unique" since the world doesn't get the same consideration from YOU.

Marinette apparently genuinely can't have an interpersonal conflict anymore without getting wrapped up in fluffy clouds and be surrounded by picture perfect victims who do all the heavy lifting to resolve the issue which of course always leads to Marinette being framed as the poor little underdog who needs to be taken care of and showered in support, excuses, inaccurate pay offs for her initial motivation entirely rooted in the other person being told something else and Marinette not owing up to the WHOLE truth to instead go with what limited information works in her favor, or straight up free passes for her behaviour as long as she says "I'm sorry, I guess I am capable of doing morally bad/ questionable things 🥺 you will reward me now, right? Then I may be able to stop when you make sure i dont feel bad about it anymore 🥺"

Seriously, I hope the full context saves this cause jesus fucking christ Marinette, stop being wrapped up in cotton candy and then STILL cry about how bad you have it. Children shouldn't be taught that this is how taking accountability works because Marinette's victim complex is excessive by this point.

Marinette, you genuinely fucked up, stop acting like you're in emotional agony every second you ever have to face the realisation that you are capable of causing even the tiniest bad thing. The problems and harm you cause aren't about you, stop always throwing shocked pitty parties for yourself and woman the fuck up.

[whorekneecentral]

Sticky Fingers

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad!seb, seb referring to himself as daddy, cheesy flirting, oral (m!receiving), the use of daddy in a sexual context, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding kink, hint to pregnancy kink if you squint, creampie, a touch of cum play, finger sucking, mommy kink but in a joking way.

Word Count: 2,112

Author's Note: would it really be me if I didn't start it off with my favourite dilf on the planet?? happy holidays to everyone who celebrates in whatever way you do and to those of you who don't, I hope you have a wonderful winter season!!

merry smutmas series

--

Your husband spends his first Christmas at home since his retirement and he went a little.. a lot over board. 

It had been a long year; Sebastian had been driving you mad as much as it was nice to have him home. A full year of retirement and Seb was making sure this holiday season was the best one yet.

Last year, after he retired, you had practically already gotten everything together for the holidays. Sebastian helped decorate and do activities with your daughter but this year, he was hands on from day one. He insisted you guys get a real tree as well as decorate the whole house from top to bottom. You couldn't count how many times he had you running to the store to pick up something for him and his newest holiday project.

Your daughter was upstairs in her bed, fast asleep with her messy blonde curls all scattered over the pillow when you checked on her. Sebastian had put her to bed while you had gone to take a shower.

Usually, you'd find him in bed by now or in the living room, finally working on the insanely long list of tv shows Charles had recommended to him over the years.

Tonight was different, the house was quiet and you couldn't seem to spot your husband anywhere as you made your way through the house.

A light peeked out from around the corner, the door to the basement slightly ajar and you pulled it open, slowly making your way downstairs.

You can see Sebastian from behind, the man freezes when he hears the creaking of the stairs. "It's just me," you announced, the man visibly relaxed, turning to smile at you.

"What are you doing down here?" You asked, finally making it down the stairs. "So secretive, are you jerking off?" You jokingly asked, Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Don't need to do that when I have you," he raises his eyebrows and it was your turn to roll your eyes.

"Whatever Seb," you laughed, "seriously, what are you doing down here?"

"Trying to wrap this," Sebastian steps to the side, revealing the massive box that was behind him. On the front was a photo of the doll house your daughter wanted.. the ridiculously expensive dollhouse that is. It's not that you two didn't get your daughter what she wanted but she had to earn it. Just because her father is who he is and the fact that he has money, doesn't mean she should get whatever she wants.

You raise her as a normal kid, not some spoiled brat who gets whatever they want.

You huffed, arms folded over your chest as you looked at your husband. "Sebastian, you didn't."

He glances between you and the dollhouse. "What?"

"Do you know how expensive that is?"

"Yeah duh, I bought it babe." He says as if he was stating the obvious, which he was.

He takes a step towards you, grabbing your arms to unfold them, "listen, I know you don't want me to just buy her whatever she wants but it's Christmas and she did really well on her first term report card, remember ?" Sebastian smiles at you, trying to justify his purchase.

You sigh, nodding. You always gave in, both he and his daughter knew as much.

You reach up, holding his face. "You're the best daddy a girl could ask for."

From the moment the words left your mouth, you could see the gears turning in his head. Sebastian's hands grab your ass, squeezing it when he leans in to give you a kiss. "I know I am," he whispers against your lips and you know he did not mean it in the same way you had said it.

Laughing, you lean back in your husband's arms. "Only you can make that dirty."

The man swings you in the direction of your couch, dropping you down on it before getting on top of you. "I'll show you dirty," he says, kissing you once again.

Your legs wrapped around your husband, holding him against you. Seb's lips are all over you, hands slipping between the two of you, pulling on the hem of his t-shirt until he stops to take it off.

"Don't look at me like that," he teases, pushing your shirt up to kiss down your stomach. "Like what?" You breathe, head tipped back into the cushions.

"Like you want to fuck me."

"I'd give you another baby right now, Sebastian."

The man freezes, looking up at you. There's a wicked smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. Sebastian moves to between your legs, settling there for a minute as he presses kisses along your bare skin, following the trail from your hip, down your thighs to between them.

Your hand tangles in his blonde curls, giving it a tug and pulling him off of you before he can get to what he really wants. The man's brows furrow, looking at you. "Sweetheart," he huffs, fingers dragging along the bare skin of your thighs.

You give him a shove back with your foot, sitting up. Sebastian watches as you move him to sit and you move from the couch to the floor. Seb reaches for the pillow, dropping in front of you so you'd have some sort of cushioning; he knows even though this was your idea, you'd blame him for sore knees tomorrow.

"You're sure?" He asks, watching as your manicured nails tugs on the strings on his sweats. "Absolutely," you say, your eyes fixed on him as your hands rub up his thighs.

Seb watches as you lick your hand, his head tips back and a soft moan slips out when you wrap your hand around him, moving it up and down slowly.

His eyes don't move from you, watching your every move. His lips parted slightly, as if he was going to say something but he can't bring himself to. You lean forward, a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the other resting on his thigh. Sebastian groans, teeth sinking into his bottom lip when you wrap your lips around him.

"God-" he breathed, his arm hung over the armrest and his head tipped back into the couch.

His eyes flutter shut when you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down. You glance up at your husband; eyes shut, his hand reaching down to tangle in your hair - pulling it into a makeshift ponytail.

You move yourself up a bit, lips still around the tip and your hand quickly replaces where your mouth was. Sebastian finally opens his eyes, looking down at you again just as your tongue swirls around the tip.

His hips involuntarily buck upwards, forcing you down on him a little bit more. "Oh fuc- baby, do that- yeah." He's out of breath when he whispers the words.

That was a reaction only you could get out of him.

It was killing him but he forces himself to pull you up off of him, your hand wraps around his cock, moving it slowly. "What?" You asked, your tongue running across your bottom lip - the sight alone makes his cock twitch in your hand; you smile at the reaction.

"I was gonna cum."

"So? I'm not complaining." You tell him, leaning forward to rest your cheek on his thigh. Sebastian reaches down, his knuckles brushing over your cheek - red and flushed.

You looked so beautiful like this.

Sebastian smiles, "I know but.. what if I wanted to try for one more?"

"One more?" You asked, brows furrowed as you looked up at the man. It takes you a moment, your husband's glance was suggestive, as if you were meant to remember something - "Oh!" You giggled, sitting up straight now. "I mean.. yeah."

"So.." he grabs your arm, carefully pulling you up. "C'mere."

Climbing onto your husband's lap, you straddle him and your hand rests on his shoulder to balance yourself. Seb reaches between the two of you, his wrist brushing against your bare cunt when he goes to line himself up with you.

The slightest touch causes you to lean into him; watching him react to you sucking him off was enough to get you worked up.

"All for me?" He looks at you, kissing along your throat.

You hum, teasing him. "Not like I can say it's for your teammate anymore."

Sebastian smiles, his free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him. Your lips parted, his name slipped from between them. As much as he loved to hear you, he didn't want to wake up the sleeping child upstairs - he kissed you, muffling the sweet sounds coming from you.

You liked to be in control up to a certain point, Seb's hands rested on your hips as you bounced on his lap, setting the pace.

After a moment, Seb's hands begin to wander; this man could never settle, not even during sex. His hands move from your hips to the curve of your spine to the back of your neck, holding a firm grip there. You couldn't exactly move, not that you wanted too, but Sebastian forces you down, gently as always, to kiss you. You bite his bottom lip, giving it a gentle pull when he feels you clench around his cock.

"You're - fuck." he moans, making you giggle.

Your hand rests on his jaw, fingers tapping his stubble covered cheek. "I'm what, daddy?"

"You're evil," he mumbles, his hand on your lower back before he flips the two of you. You end up under him, legs wrapped around his hips.

A hand moves to behind his shoulder, your perfectly red nails dig into his pale skin, the marks you left matched the colour of your nails; very festive, you thought to yourself.

Seb's face is buried into the crook of your neck, kissing down to that one spot he knows drives you crazy. "Seb-" you cut yourself off with a moan when you feel his fingers on your clit.

"What was that?" He taunts, watching as your eyes close, back arched, his chest pressed to yours. His lips travel down to your chest, kissing over your tits and as far as he could go. Your nails dig into him once more, Seb feels you clench around him.

"Seb- I'm gonna, fuck-" you mumble and he hums in response, kissing along your jaw.

"Go on, I'm right here baby. C'mon, be good for me." He whispers, he grabs your hand, pulling it to rest on your lower stomach. "Can you feel that, hm? You'd look so pretty with a baby in you - fuck, drove me crazy last time."

You mumble something he doesn't quite catch but from the look on your face, you were going along with everything.

"Please Seb," your lips are on his, begging him for any and everything."

"Please what, sweetheart?" His eyes find yours, "what do you want? You want me to cum in you?"

"Let me make you a daddy again, Seb."

The man groans, your legs tightening around him. "Fuck, okay," he breathes, cheat heaving when you clench around him once more, the tighten knot in your lower stomach comes undone. You find yourself calling his name; the sound and sight of you was something Sebastian never wanted to forget. He finds himself following shortly after you, dropping down on top of you.

Seb moves off of you, pulling out in the process. A soft whimper slipping past your lips at the loss of fullness. He tsks, smiling to himself. His finger drags along your pussy, he watches how you react to his touch, pushing his finger into you to fuck what's slipping back into you.

Before you realize, his hands moved from between your legs to your lips. "Open," he tells you and you do, the man putting his finger between your lips, letting you suck it clean.

He smiles, watching in approval before you let his finger go with a pop. "Good girl," he whispers, holding your jaw when he kisses you.

Seb shifts the two of you, letting you cuddle into his side. His hand rubs along your side, your leg stretched out over his lap.

"You okay?"

"Perfect," you smile, your hand on his chest.

"Well, when we do get up-" he starts but you cut him off, already knowing where he's going. "I'll help you wrap it." You tell him, making him laugh.

"You're the best mommy a girl could ask for," he says and you make a face, laughing. "Doesn't work that way babe."

"Ew, no - I didn't mean like that, you freak."

"Oh shut up," you shook your head, reaching up to kiss your husband.

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls@wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[storiesforallfandoms]

icdiwabh ~ joseph quinn

word count: 3688

request?: no

description: after finding out that her recently broken up with ex is already in a new relationship, she puts on a happy face for the public. but she can't do the same with him

pairing: joseph quinn x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angsty angst, rpf, use of y/n

based on this song

masterlist (one, two, three)

To give her credit, my best friend and guitarist, Chloe, tried her best to keep me from looking at my phone before our show. And it was working. I didn't even think anything of it, just that we were goofing off before a show as usual.

And then my phone chimed with a text from my mom. She always sent me a good luck text before a show. I unlocked my phone to respond, then saw that my social media notifications were blowing up more than usual.

I shouldn't have looked, but you know what they say about curiosity and the cat.

I opened Twitter to see I was being mentioned a lot. Mainly in replies to other tweets, and most of the tweets were along the lines of, "What happened to @(Y/U/N)?" I clicked on one to see what that context was, and was brought to a tweet from Pop Crave.

"Joseph Quinn photographed on a date with Doja Cat," followed by various photos of my ex-boyfriend getting cozy with another woman.

I felt my heart drop and break into millions of pieces.

I know what you're thinking: why would seeing my ex moving on hurt so much? It's not like we were together. We were both free to see whoever we wanted now. But there were a few reasons this news was upsetting; for one, we had only broken up three months ago, which apparently is around the time when these pictures were taken. Second, Joseph had broken up with me due to the fact that I was a singer, which meant we didn't get to spend as much time together as either of us would've wanted. I understood at the time. I mean, of course the break up still hurt, but I kind of knew it was coming when things between us had felt different the last month or so of our relationship.

Then there was the biggest reason: Doja was the woman he told me not to worry about.

I am not joking.

Joseph and I were together when the whole Doja versus Noah stuff happened online. We both laughed about it at the time, and i had jokingly asked Joseph, "Should I worry about you getting stolen away by Doja Cat?" He had wrapped me in his arms, kissed me, and said of course not.

Obviously, that had changed.

Chloe found me just as the tears started to fall. She was quick to hug me and whisper comforting words.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she said. "But we have to get to the stage."

Performing was the last thing on my mind, but I had thousands of fans waiting for me. I couldn't let them down just because I was heartbroken.

I followed Chloe to take my place. I wiped the tears from my eyes, hoping my face wasn't too red or puffy. Our backstage crew passed me my microphone as the countdown for the show to start started in my earpiece. I took a deep, calming breath, pushing everything out of my mind. As the blinding stage lights hit me, I put on my best show smile.

~~~~~~

The next few weeks were tough. I had to go on a full social media hiatus, meaning I deleted all social media apps from my phone to keep myself from seeing any more updates on Joseph and Doja. Chloe took up posting on my accounts so no one suspected anything. We had already decided the best course of action was to ignore the questions and comments, and to pretend like the news didn't even hurt me.

But it did. It hurt me more than any words could ever describe. Having to go on stage two to three nights a week and sing the love songs I wrote about him made it even harder. I struggled to keep it together on stage sometimes. I saved the emotions for when I'd get back to the hotel or the tour bus. Then I'd be able to cry until my eyes hurt and were too heavy to stay awake.

Some nights were sleepless, though. On those nights, I'd usually just lay awake or try to use one of the streaming services on my phone to distract myself. One night, I found myself too hungry to be distracted. My stomach was rumbling enough that I could hardly hear the show I was watching. After some quick Googling, I found a 24 hour diner that seemed like it would be slow enough for me to go without being recgonized.

I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy hoodie with the hood up to cover my face. I put my phone and my hotel room key in my pocket, and left to make my way to the diner.

As I expected, there weren't many people there. Maybe one table with two young ladies sat there, plus the workers. I kept my hood up anyways as I ordered, just in case. The host who took my order did look at me like he may have known who I was, but he didn't say anything.

My plan was to get my food and take it back to the hotel to eat it. But that plan was quickly changed when a familiar British voice said, "(Y/N)?"

I froze. There was no way he was actually here. It had to be a figment of my imagination. A hallucination made up by my misery over the breakup and his quick moving on.

But when I looked up, there he was. He was also in a hoodie and sweatpants, but was doing less to hide his identity. Actually, nothing to hide his identity. I couldn't help but glance around to make sure no one was looking at us or there was no paparazzi that had followed him and started snapping photos.

"How did you know it was me?" I asked, then realized it was a stupid question and winced at myself.

"That's...um...my hoodie."

I looked down and realized that he was right. I hadn't even noticed that I had it, even when I packed it for the tour.

"I was wondering where it went," he said with a little smile.

"Here it is," I said, lamely flourishing my hands. "I'd offer to give it back, but I'm not wearing anything underneath."

I saw him swallow at my comment. I thought I saw a tinge of pink creeping onto his cheeks, but I figured it must've been the lighting or something. There was no way I could still make him blush when he obviously had no feelings for me anymore.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I'm in town shooting the Fantastic Four movie," he explained. "I just finished a late shoot, so I stopped in for something to eat. What are you doing here?"

"I had a show tonight. I couldn't sleep, and I'm hungry. So..." I did my lame flourish again.

"Oh yes. The post-show adrenaline."

I ground my teeth to keep from saying anything. The weeks of sadness and misery suddenly vanished and became anger. I was angry at him for reminding me that he knew me so well. That we had shared memories on sleepless nights like this. I was also angry that he didn't think our breakup and his quick moving on would be the cause of my sleeplessness. Did he think I didn't know? Or just that I'd be okay with him and his new girlfriend mere weeks after our two year long relationship ended?

I just shrugged in response.

My order was called and I quickly grabbed it. I turned to give Joseph a wave as a goodbye. I needed to get out of there and get back to my hotel room to wallow in my dispair.

But it seemed Joseph had other plans, as he stopped me before I could leave. "Do you want to sit? Maybe...catch up?"

"Is that a good idea?" I asked.

"I don't see why it wouldn't be."

"You don't want your new girlfriend to see paparazzi photos of you with your ex."

There, it was finally out. No more tiptoeing around the topic.

It seemed to have its desired effect as Joseph was now awkwardly shuffling. He rubbed the back of his neck, which was now undoubtably turning pink. "So, you've heard."

"Of course I heard!" I snapped. I glanced around again, realizing I was raising my voice. "Your pictures are everywhere, and I'm being tagged in them cause we never told everyone we had broken up."

"I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

I scoffed. "How else was I going to find out? Were you going to call me and tell me you were dating the girl you said wasn't a threat to our relationship?"

He sighed. Before he could say anything else, they called that another order was ready, and evidently it was his. It was also packed in a to go bag, so he clearly had no intentions of staying either. With any luck, he'd drop this stupid idea of sitting down for a "catch up" and let me leave to deal with all the emptions I was feeling.

But of course, luck was not on my side.

Joseph grabbed his food and turned back to me. "Just...sit with me for 15 minutes at least. Let me explain."

Even though I very much wanted an explanation, I said, "You don't have to explain anything."

"Just...please, (Y/N)."

And that's how I found myself sat in a booth that was tucked away, in the middle of the night with my ex-boyfriend.

It was a bad idea, and I knew that. Besides the fact that I definitely should not be sitting down with the ex that I had been in shambles over for weeks, it was also a bad idea publicity wise. Joseph wasn't trying to hide himself. Anyone could see us and snap a picture, or call paparazzi to make a quick buck. Even with me trying to hide myself, someone would eventually put the pieces together to realize it was me. Then we'd have a whole new shit show on our hands.

I opened my food and started to eat. There was no point in letting it go cold and completely ruin my night. Joseph wasn't as quick to do the same. He was watching me. When I realized he wasn't eating, I made a gesture for him to start talking.

"Is there anything specific you want to know?" he asked.

Well, that was a stupid question. There was a lot I wanted to know. So much so that I knew we'd be here way longer than 15 minutes if I asked it all.

I decided to ask him the most prominent question on my mind: "Did you leave me for her?"

He seemed stunned by my question. "No! No, of course I didn't. Why would you think that?"

I gave him a look. "Come on, Joseph. We both know why I'd think that."

He shuffled in his seat. "It's not like that."

"Then explain it. That's the whole reason I'm sat here."

So he did. He told me he met Doja (he used her real name, which made my stomach churn) at her concert. He had gone with a few friends, and when she found out he was there she brought them backstage to meet her. He swore it was all casual at first, that they were just friendly and were making light of the situation between her and Noah. When things started changing, he swore it was just a rebound thing.

"I never meant for it to become anything more," he insisted. "I was still so hurt. I just wanted something that would take my mind off of the pain."

I couldn't hold back the scoff that escaped my lips. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," I said. "I'm just so sorry to hear that you were hurting."

"What, you don't think our breakup was hard for me?"

"Weirdly enough, no, I didn't think you took things hard when you dumped me."

Joseph sighed. "It wasn't - "

"And you know what else?" I cut him off. "You told me you found it hard for us to be together because of our professions. And, honestly, I understood! If you weren't away filming, I was away touring. If you weren't doing press for a movie or show, I was doing press for an album. It wasn't easy, and while I was willing to go through those strifes for us, I did understand how it could be too difficult for you. But then you turned around, not even a month after you dumped me, and started dating another singer."

He was quiet. He couldn't even meet my eye.

I felt a lump forming in my throat, and my voice cracked as I said, "If you didn't love me anymore, you could've just said that."

He looked up at me quickly. "That's not - "

He was cut off again. Not by me this time, but by his phone. Someone was calling him. When I looked at the screen, I saw her name. It felt like a knife directly through my heart.

I packed my food and stood. Joseph looked like he was going to say something, but I put a hand up to stop him. "Answer your girlfriend, Joseph."

He didn't try to stop me when I left this time.

~~~~~~

As I expected, photos of Joseph and I got out. I didn't know to what extent as I still wasn't back on social media. My manager confronted me about it and I explained what had happened. She wasn't upset as I wasn't the one who hadn't been concealing my identity, and she agreed that the best course of action was just to ignore everything until it blew over.

Another two months passed and the tour finally ended. It became easier to perform as the time went on. Not completely easy, and I did have a night or two where I slipped up and got emotional on stage, but eventually I was able to put the meanings of my songs aside and just performed them for my fans. I knew some nights weren't as great as others, but I got through it, and finally I was going to have a break.

Chloe reluctantly agreed to let me have my social media back. I was still hurting a little, but I told her I couldn't isolate myself forever. It just wasn't healthy. Besides, I would need something to keep me occupied while I was home, besides just watching mind numbing reality TV. She finally relented when I told her she could watch me block the words "Joseph Quinn" and "Doja Cat" on all social media so that I wouldn't have to see any posts about them.

I was honestly surprised to find that I didn't want to look up anything to do with them. For a long time, the desire to know about their relationship was eating away at me. There were so many specifics I felt like I needed to know, but I eventually realized that I was just going to hurt myself further if I looked into them. Of course, I didn't completely stop thinking about Joseph. I didn't expect to. We had been together for two years, almost moved in with one another. I thought we were going to get married. You don't just let that go easily. But at least it was getting a little easier to live in a world where he was no longer mine.

On one particularly nice day, I decided to go out on the balcony to read. It was one of those fall days where the sun was out and there was a little heat coming from it, but not enough that it was unbearable. A slight breeze would blow through every so often, just cool enough to keep it tolerable outside. I was laid back in one of my deck chairs, engrossed in my book to a point that I hadn't heard someone approaching.

"Must be an interesting novel."

I jumped at the sound of a voice coming from my driveway below. I bookmarked my page and sat up to see the last person I wanted to be around. "What are you doing here, Joseph?"

"I just got back from filming."

"Good for you."

"I...I was hoping you were home."

"Well, you see that I am. Don't let the gate hit you on the way out."

"(Y/N), can we just talk?"

I stood from my seat and leaned over the balcony railing to look at him. "We said all there was to say in that diner months ago. There's nothing else to be talked about. Besides, do you want more pictures of us to come out? I'm sure Doja wouldn't be happy to see her man making a personal visit to his ex's place."

"We broke up!"

I stopped. "What?"

"Last month. It was all over social media, or so Lupita tells me." He tilted his head. "You didn't hear?"

"I-I blocked yours and Doja's names on social media so I wouldn't have to see any tweets or posts about you."

Joseph looked at me for a moment before barking out a laugh. I couldn't help but put a hand over my face as I laughed as well. Of course, by trying to block him out completely, I had totally missed the one thing I would've wanted to see.

I was a bit reluctant, but eventually I invited Joseph to come up. He knew his way through my place, he had been there enough times. I sat back down on my deck chair and pulled another one closer to me, as he appeared in the glass doorway. He sat down next to me and memories of all the times we had been out here flooded back to me.

"I wasn't done talking that night in the diner," he said. "I still had so much to say, and I have even more to say now."

"I didn't want to hear it," I admitted. "In my mind, after hearing how you and Doja got together, it just made more sense if you had broken up with me because you didn't love me anymore."

He shook his head. "It wasn't that at all. I never stopped loving you."

I was itching to ask him if that meant he still loved me now, but instead I said, "Then why?"

"I broke up with you because I loved you so much," he said. "Because loving you but not getting to spend time with you hurt so much, and I knew there was no way around that. When I started getting more job offers I knew things were just going to get so much busier for me, and that our already very short time together was going to dwindle down more and more, and I hated the thought of that."

"I would've taken a break," I told him.

"I couldn't ask you to do that. You love making music and performing. I could never ask you to stop doing that, or to change that. I thought the best thing for you would be if you could find someone who wasn't as busy, and who'd be able to go on tour with you and be at all your shows. Someone who wouldn't be in a different time zone basically 11 months out of a year and only be able to call you for an hour max every night."

"But what if that's not what I want?" I asked. "Yes, it was hard not to get to see you all the time, but I never would've traded that for anything else. I was so proud of you for all those roles you were getting, and even if I only got to talk to you for a few minutes, I loved getting to hear what you were doing. Because you were achieving your dream, and I got to be there to experience it. I don't want someone who can be with me all the time, I want you."

I hadn't noticed that we were both sat on the edge of our chairs. We were so close we were almost touching. I could smell the familiar scent of his cologne and it was making my heart skip a few beats.

"I should've talked to you instead of deciding just to end things," he said, his voice soft and quiet.

"You should've," I agreed. "And then if you were going to rebound, you shouldn't have done it with the girl you told me not to worry about."

He awkwardly chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, not my finest moment."

I sat back in my chair, although I didn't want to. I wanted to keep being this close to him, or maybe to get closer. "So why did you two breakup anyways?"

"She was nice and all, but she wasn't you."

We sat in silence, letting his words sink in. He was looking at me, almost like he was waiting. Maybe I was waiting, too, to see where that confession was supposed to go. After a few moments, my body moved before my mind could comprehend what was happening. I quickly leaned forward, nearly putting myself on Joseph's lap, and started kissing him. He kissed me back immediately, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me the rest of the way onto his lap.

"I missed you," he mumbled against my lips.

"I missed you too," I admitted. I pulled away to add, "But don't think you're completely off the hook. You did still hurt me, you know."

"I know I did. I'll spend the rest of my life making up for it if I have to."

I smiled. "I think I like the sound of that."

He smiled back at me and pulled me back in for another kiss. Eventually, my book was abandoned on the balcony, and the large blinds were closed to keep from anyone being able to see the reunion happening inside.

[unabashegirl]

my best friend's dad | sneak peek

Y/N and Scarlett Styles are best friends in college. They share everything even their plans for Spring Break. They have a trip to Bahamas planned. Everything takes a turn when Scarlett is unable to fly, and Y/N is forced to coexist and interact with Scarlett's dad.

Author's note: hello everyone, I just wanted to give everyone a sneak peek of the upcoming one shot that will be uploading in a few days. I tried to made it only one part, but as I was writing it I realized that I needed to add more context, so it's going to be a two part one shot. The first part has already been upload to my patreon.

check out my patreon and get full access to the first part (+4K words) and much more :) thank you beforehand!

masterlist

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Y/N felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she listened to Harry's encouraging words. She realized that she didn't have to have everything figured out right away. This trip, with its new experiences and conversations like this one, was already helping her see things from a different perspective.

After a while, Harry put down his tablet and stretched. "I think it’s time for a swim down at the beach. Care to join me?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

They made their way through a winding path bordered by lush foliage, leading to a secluded stretch of beach that seemed untouched by the usual tourist crowds. The soft sand greeted their feet as they approached the water's edge, the gentle lapping of the waves creating a soothing soundtrack. Harry glanced around with a smile.

“Breathtaking as always” he remarked, gesturing to the pristine beach.

Y/N nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over her. The beach was indeed stunning, with its turquoise waters and powdery white sand stretching into the distance. It felt like a hidden paradise, far removed from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

"I can see why Scarlett loves it here," Y/N said, taking in the beauty of the surroundings.

The next day dawned with a soft, rosy glow creeping over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Harry woke before the sun, as was his routine, slipping on his running gear quietly so as not to disturb the peacefulness of the villa. He tiptoed downstairs, the floor cool under his feet, and headed for the front door. As he passed through the living room, he glanced out onto the terrace.

There, on one of the sunbeds, Y/N lay curled up under a blanket, her silhouette softened by the early morning light. She had fallen asleep waiting for the sunrise, her peaceful expression making her look even more serene. Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He found it endearing

Resisting the urge to wake her, Harry quietly slipped outside and started his jog along the quiet streets. The rhythmic pounding of his footsteps helped clear his mind, but try as he might, thoughts of Y/N kept intruding. He couldn't shake the image of her in that attractive bikini, her laughter echoing in his mind from the day before. It wasn't just her physical beauty that captivated him; it was her warmth, her intelligence, and the easy way they connected.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Harry quickened his pace, pushing himself harder. He hadn't expected to be so affected by Y/N's presence, and he chastised himself for dwelling on thoughts that felt inappropriate given their relationship. He had spent the previous day enjoying her company, sharing stories, and learning about her dreams and ambitions. Yet, now he found himself unable to shake the attraction he felt towards her.

By the time he returned to the villa, the sun was fully risen, casting a bright light over the tropical landscape. Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts as he cooled down. He decided to take a cold shower, hoping the shock of cold water would help clear his mind. As he stood under the refreshing spray, he couldn't help but feel ashamed of his inner turmoil. He didn't want to complicate things or make Y/N uncomfortable during their time together.

He just couldn’t get that damn bikini off his mind. The one she had wore the day before. The red color complemented her sun-kissed skin beautifully, accentuating her curves in all the right places. His hand creeped down and grabbed throbbing cock, trying get some release from the torture that he was experiencing.

COMING SOON.

[aethon-recs]

Tomarrymort Intermediate Pack — 16 Longfic Recs

As a follow-up to the Tomarrymort starter pack rec list, I put together a list of Intermediate Reads that are best enjoyed with a bit of context about the ship. If you’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a while, or have read everything in the starter pack, this next set of recs is for you. 

These recs feature a sampling of different authors than the first list, with an emphasis on underrated fic that I think deserve more recognition (hard to define, but for the most part, I tried to find fics with fewer than 2000 kudos). So I hope that even for the readers who’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a long time, there’s something new in here to discover.

This is Part 2 of a 3-part series (see here for Part 1, and Part 3 will be an Advanced reading list that will feature works of a more challenging nature). In the meantime, please enjoy these additional 1.8 million words of wonderful Tomarrymort fic.

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Tomarrymort Intermediate Recs

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 136k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry wakes up one day with no memory of his past, upon which he’s greeted by a handsome, doting older man named Gaunt who claims that he and Harry have been in a relationship together for years.  Why I rec it: A haunting psychological horror where the truth slowly creeps up on Harry that his domestic life with his devoted partner Gaunt is not as idyllic as it initially appears. The twisting, unhinged depths of Voldemort’s obsession in this fic are so beautifully portrayed. There were chills that ran down my spine as Harry starts to get his memories back and the mystery of what happened starts to unravel. I love the pacing in this fic — there’s no one big reveal; it’s a slowly unfolding sequence that gets delightfully darker and more fucked-up as the fic progresses.

dawn of a death of a dream by @cindle-writes (E, 66k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Tom Riddle appears in London the morning of Voldemort’s defeat, with the last thing he remembers from 1944, and quickly realizes that Harry Potter is the key to all the answers that he’s looking for.  Why I rec it: A light-hearted take on the identity porn trope, full of playful banter and delightfully charged chemistry between Harry and Tom. It’s usually Harry who’s thrown back through time, so it’s fun to see Tom scramble to figure out what’s going on when he’s pulled forward into Harry’s time. It’s also fun to see Harry try every avenue to prove that this mysterious new Tom is the Tom Riddle, even as he ends up hitting dead ends, and subsequently falls so deep into his obsessive tendencies that he refuses to let Tom out of his sight.

My Lord, Master, My Soul by FletchleyRose (E, 69k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry after the final battle and decides to break him — not with torture, but with pleasure and softness. Why I rec it: The soft, creepy non-con in here is so memorable and excellent! Voldemort takes a different approach to breaking in his horcrux than what we usually see, and this particular approach leads to such delicious and hot smut scenes between them wherein Harry utterly succumbs to all the softly pleasurable attentions. I can never get enough of darkly twisted captive Harry stories and all the ways that Voldemort keeps Harry isolated and utterly reliant on him. I gasped out loud at the part where Voldemort made it so that Harry can only speak Parseltongue — this exactly the kind of fucked-up content that is so perfect and fitting for this ship.

(never) let me go by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 28k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry returns to Hogwarts after the war for eighth year, and he’s the only person in the castle who can see and talk to the ghost of Tom Riddle.  Why I rec it: This fic completely destroyed me. The story unfolds in such a poignant and haunting way — it feels like the most natural thing for Harry to feel such a strong connection with Tom and fall in love with him as the year progresses. The angst in here is so delicately layered and beautifully portrayed — Harry’s feelings are muddled with a growing hope that Tom doesn’t have to move on to the afterlife and the desperation that he feels when he realizes they’re running out of time — such that the emotional beats will end up resonating for a long time after you’ve finished reading this fic.

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 124k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If a series of gruesome murders 10 years after the war has Harry and the rest of the Aurors completely stumped, and Harry figures out how to bring Voldemort back from beyond the Veil in exchange for his help in solving the murders.  Why I rec it: This is a spectacular and richly layered murder mystery featuring incredibly complex character dynamics and gorgeously lavish prose. I am blown away at the sophistication of the storytelling here — we get to delve into Voldemort’s past and so many hidden layers of his character, as well as how Harry has been handling the ‘picture-perfect’ life he’s always wanted after the war (in short: not well) — and in between, following all the clues and disparate threads of a mysterious serial killer case that could be its own standalone casefic! One of the most impressively sweeping pieces of writing I’ve seen in this ship, and there isn’t an element of this fic that I don’t absolutely adore.

Perfect Places by @skaelds (NR, 72k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort dies in the Final Battle, and then wakes up in a strange house with no one but Harry Potter for company, and there is no way for either of them to get out. Why I rec it: I absolutely love the trapped-in-a-room trope, and how Voldemort and Harry have to work out their differences if they want to have any hope of getting out. I adore that the entire fic is told from Voldemort POV — his arrogance and his malevolence and his rage and the utter force of his emotions are so palpable. The emotional journey in this fic is so intense from beginning to end, as they eventually come around to an understanding about each other and figure out a way out.

Promises, Promises (part 1) / Dreams in the Dark (part 2) by @mosiva (E, 72k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry is accidentally thrown back in time to Tom’s 6th year, and then suffers a bout of amnesia from a memory-loss spell and can’t remember anything about Tom Riddle or why he spent all semester trying to avoid him.  Why I rec it: A brilliant fast burn featuring amnesia trope and tons of delicious dubcon. Tom is at his manipulative peak here, as he tries every underhanded technique to first figure out exactly what is going on with that new transfer student Harry Evans, and then when he’s figured it out, doing everything he can to keep Harry within his grasp. I cannot say enough about how hot the smut is throughout this 2-part series — so many layers of dubcon and manipulation that blew me away at every turn.

Sunspots by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 249k, WIP)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry grows up in the muggle world without realizing he has magic, but he suspects there’s a bigger world out there because he’s had recurring dreams featuring Tom’s horcruxes his entire life.  Why I rec it: One of the most unique takes on a book 1 rewrite that I’ve ever seen. First of all, the characters are aged up to college-age, and since Hogwarts starts at 18 here rather than at 11, there’s a lot of character dynamics that are possible to explore with older characters that aren’t possible with 11-year-olds. Secondly, Harry has access to each of Tom’s horcruxes through a magical dreamscape dimension he can access in his sleep, and he has unique and distinct relationships with each of them, including (the main) Voldemort, so there’s a lot of fascinating and multi-faceted Harry and Tom dynamics. Also, the descriptions of magic in this fic are just stunning; it’s clear that a lot of thought went into the magical worldbuilding here that makes you feel as excited and awestruck by the concept of magic as reading the Harry Potter books for the first time.

Tender Reigns Our Night by @noumena-writes (M, 69k, WIP)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s)  Premise: If Harry is sent back to the 1940s, just after Tom Riddle has graduated from Hogwarts, on a mission to stop Tom becoming Voldemort and imperiling the world of magic. Why I rec it: I love the mutually obsessive chemistry here as Harry and Tom quickly fall into each other’s thrall as their relationship heats up. The writing style is so poetic and beautiful, and I find myself rereading many sentences over again just to fully absorb the impact and beauty of @noumena-writes’ words. Even as Harry becomes increasingly entwined with Tom, he’s never blind to who Tom is, and he’s able to strike back with just as much viciousness — their relationship dynamics are so very intense and suspenseful, and the latest plot twist had me completely floored.

The Incantation of the Oak-Priest by @relic--crown (T, 223k, complete)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry and Tom are pulled into an alternate reality where Voldemort never existed and Harry’s parents are still alive.  Why I rec it: The richness of the magical worldbuilding in this fic blew me away — there’s a whole system of magic explored here that goes deeper and is far more brilliant and sweeping than what is covered in canon. The relationship between Harry and Tom develops in such an organic, lovely way, and it was fascinating to see all the changes in this parallel universe where Harry’s parents live and what Harry’s life could have been like, were there no Voldemort. Also, the plot! This fic was so intricately plotted that it felt like reading multiple books with a complex, epic plot spanning fifth through seventh years at Hogwarts, ending in a grand showdown like in the original book series, but with a surprising twist.

The Sense of Self by SpitFire97 (E, 87k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel Fix-It Premise: If Harry and Voldemort find themselves trapped in a strange cycle of reincarnations where they visit different points in time in Voldemort’s past.  Why I rec it: A very cool take on a time-travel fix-it. Instead of traveling back to a fixed point in time, Harry and Voldemort are thrown back to various points of Voldemort’s past and relive life through certain people significant to shaping Voldemort into who he eventually becomes. The time travel theory in here is amongst the most complex that I’ve encountered — I love the concept that time is a river where multiple timelines and divergent events end up converging, rather than branching off and creating a bunch of alternate universes. I also love how organically the growing relationship between Voldemort and Harry unfolds as they progress through each cycle and gradually start to develop trust in one another and care and attraction for each other.

These steep woods and lofty cliffs by Rimeme (M, 76k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry runs away to America after Sirius’s death and disguises himself in the Muggle world for many years before getting discovered by MACUSA and offered a job with the magical government. Years later, he is recruited back to Britain to work for the Ministry, under none other than Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt himself.  Why I rec it: A thoroughly enjoyable read from beginning to end — I devoured this fic in one sitting. Harry makes an extremely rational decision here — why not run off from the war if Voldemort is trying to kill everyone you love? But then, when he comes back undercover 15 years later, things don’t quite seem to add up. Britain doesn’t seem like it’s been taken over by a genocidal Dark Lord, but there’s something nefarious simmering under the surface. Voldemort as a very rational Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt is a delight here, with his seemingly very reasonable focus on progressing wizarding society. It was fun to follow along as Harry slowly starts to put the pieces together, and I love how relentlessly Voldemort pursues and seduces Harry in this fic, until he's utterly unable to resist his attraction to a Voldemort who seems to have turned over a new leaf.

These Violent Delights by @heirofdragons (M, 55k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry, Ron, and Hermione accidentally find themselves thrown back in time to the late 1940s, four years after Tom has graduated Hogwarts and is working at Borgin and Burkes.  Why I rec it: A highly entertaining time travel fic with Harry stumbling back in time to find Tom Riddle in the full dregs of his Retail Hell years post-Hogwarts. Their chemistry is delightfully charming as they prod at each other and do everything to get under each other’s skin (including attempted murder), while growing undeniably attracted to each other. They simply can’t stay away from each other, despite Harry knowing who Tom turns out to be, and Tom knowing that Harry is the one who destroys all his Horcruxes and ends up defeating him in the future.

Three Turns Should Do It by @vdoshu (M, 284k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry gets thrown back in time after an accident with the Time Turner in 3rd year, and ends up as a disembodied voice in Tom’s head from the time that Tom is 11. Why I rec it: I absolutely love Tom growing up alongside Harry who is a kind of caretaker presence in his mind, helping make his days a little bit less lonely and helping him navigate the unfortunate circumstances he’s thrown in. This is probably the most extensively researched WW2 era story I’ve ever read; at times I felt like I was learning more detailed history about everyday life during WW2 than I’ve ever read out of a history book. This fic does an amazing job of fleshing out the pivotal events of Tom’s Hogwarts years and showcasing Tom’s humanity, and the bond of mutual trust and love that he and Harry build over the years is so beautifully portrayed. It also does a great job of exploring the question of predestination and whether anyone has the power to change the fate that lies in store for them.

Til Death Do Us Part by @duplicitywrites (M, 117k, complete)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry gets captured by Voldemort and held as his captive, in a world where Voldemort had won the war sometime before Harry was born, and Harry has been fighting against Voldemort his entire adult life. Why I rec it: The emotions that this fic evokes are so moving and heartfelt. The evolution from Harry as Voldemort’s prisoner to Harry as Voldemort’s trusted advisor unfolds in such a beautiful, unrushed way. Harry is in his early 30s when he’s captured, so he’s older than what we typically see in fics where he’s Voldemort’s prisoner, and his maturity and composure really shine through as he starts working together with Voldemort and trying to exert his influence to improve the fate of the wizarding world. He eventually breaks through Voldemort’s shell, and helps Voldemort to grow in so many ways as the story progresses — particularly in his understanding of love and acceptance of death as a part of life.

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 84k, WIP)

Setting: Same-Age AU Premise: If Harry and Tom attend Hogwarts together and are selected as Hogwarts Champions for an AU version of the Triwizard Tournament that is structured more like the Hunger Games tournament.  Why I rec it: This is a skillfully-written generation mashup featuring an incredibly suspenseful and high-intrigue setting. There’s a dark overhang of dread and anxiety that permeates every character interaction and training session, as we’re informed that most of the champions (8 from each of the 3 schools) will not make it out of the Tournament alive. Yet the chemistry between Harry and Tom builds and builds despite the life-or-death stakes — Harry is immediately attracted to Tom, and Tom admires Harry’s resourcefulness — even while they each realize they may be the death of the other.

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[harbourslighthouse]

Asphalt In My Lungs (Jason Todd x F!Reader)

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Summary: It's been six years since the death of the second Robin, your Robin, and you're twenty-one and barely getting by. When a certain person's phone calls stop, you're forced to drag yourself out of your head and pay a visit to a man you didn't think you'd see ever again. You can barely stand the colour red.

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There are mentions/implications of past abuse & neglect, so be wary of that if that is an issue for you. The story itself is mildly angsty, but it's not severely depressing. You don't necessarily need to read it for future stories, but it does give a lot of information about the reader and sort of 'sets the tone' of things.

For just a little context, I take different details from different mediums of the DC universe. I use aspects from the animated movies, the Christopher Nolan films, and the Arkham video games. Don't regard my stories as 100% canon compliant. 

I hope you enjoy, it is a bit of a long one, but I put my heart and soul into this as it's one of my first stories that I'm publishing here.

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It’s 2005, and since you can remember, Gotham City has been made of barbed wire and blood. It crawls like something alive, writhing with sin and grime. The Wayne Enterprises tower sits in the center of Miagani Island, a pulsing beam of light that’s meant to mean something, yet those who live in the darkest slums see it only as a mocking sentinel glowing down on them. 

You wonder if Bruce should have made a symbol of good out of his own name, instead of creating the masked entity: the Batman. 

Maybe then, he would have done something. 

You know the darkness that seeps out of Gotham intimately. Born and bred on Miagani Island—the most urban of the three islands—you grew up in a desolate street, in a desolate house. The school you went to was just as dull, with teachers that hated their jobs, and school kids that shoved each other off slides and dunked heads down toilets. You remained a hidden thing, invisible to most. 

Gotham City remains a corrupted landmark on the map, often pointed at with the resolute statement, ‘That place? We can’t possibly live there. It’s filthy and the crime rate is insane.’ If anyone asked you, as a Gothamite yourself, if it was worth the ridiculously low rent prices, you’d shake them by their shoulders, shove them towards their car, and tell them to drive away as far as possible. 

Yet, you can’t bring yourself to hate the city. You’ve seen its most hideous parts; the trash littered alleyways with burning barrels and tents made of scrap fabric and metal; the rat infested houses along the edge of the Narrows that are half crumbling into the murky water that surrounds the small isle; gang spots stained with blood after a deal goes wrong. Gotham City is many things to many people, but it’s different for you. 

Gotham City, to you, is made of memories. 

As a young child, you hadn’t been blessed with a sweet home full of warmth and love, the kind you see in the sitcoms that only aired at specific times. Not that you watched much of those, anyway. No, yours had been an empty echo of bitterness and split lips. Yours had buried a hole in your chest as something ugly and not worth thinking about, something scabbed over or fully scarred. So you only remember parts of it on the worst of days, when you’re paralysed by something you can’t name. 

Shouting rings from the open window, and there’s a dull pang of surprise that there isn’t a jagged hole in the glass. By now, they start throwing mugs, or plates. Whatever is closest.

Your back digs into the screen door, and you pull your knees up to your chest as you sit and wait on the porch. They locked the door, and there’s no other way for you to slip into your room. The window out back is too high for you to reach, and your arms aren’t strong enough to push yourself up to the windowsill. 

You’re not sure when the dull emptiness had begun to set in, but even at this age, you know violence and normalcy should not co-exist together. But, you’re only fourteen. There’s not much that you can do. 

A glass shatters, the shrill noise making you flinch. It’s the first of many broken pieces of porcelain, so you haul yourself up onto your feet with a silent huff, feeling the burn of tears. You slip your backpack over your shoulder again, and hop down the wooden steps. 

The street is mostly empty. Trash flutters out from underneath parked cars, and the smell of dust and exhaust fumes is thick and heavy. You walk with steady steps, although your gaze keeps falling to the brick-laid sidewalk. There’s a horrible pressure in your chest, like something has lodged itself into the space between your lungs. You count the crosses on your sneakers and pray that they stop shouting soon, so that you can come back home before it’s dark.

Memories are often distorted the older you get. It’s usually the cloudy, grey days that render you in bed for hours. Laying amongst rumpled bed sheets with your hair still styled from the day before, your mind casts a line back into the past, hoping to reel in some sort of closure that you’ve been chasing for years.

You’re not sure why, but during these days when you can’t get out of bed, and your eyes flicker across the gritty texture of your ceiling, you often think about the second home you were introduced to—a home that was given to you when your hand slipped into that of a billionaire celebrity’s, whose eyes held secrets. 

The muted sound of gravel crunching seems louder than your heartbeat as the car pulls into a broad driveway. You lean to the side, temple pressed against the car window, and your lungs clench in awe. 

Large and imposing, a stately mansion made of pale brown bricks, numerous windows, and pointed roofs, sits as a giant backdrop of wealth amongst the vibrant green lawns that stretch onward for miles. You blink rapidly, hand curling around the metal door handle as the engine becomes silent. You climb out slowly, the chill air pushing against your cheeks. Your worn shoes are thin at the bottom, and you can feel the pressure of gravel and pebbles against your heels, but you can’t seem to care as you numbly walk closer to the entrance of the mansion. The structure towers above you, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s as intimidating on the inside as it is on the outside. It reminds you of all the large estates you’d seen in the history books (ones that hadn’t been scribbled over with sharpie).

The butler, or Alfred, as you’ve come to know, strides past you with his measured steps, and opens the double doors made of wood as dark as dirt. He waits patiently inside, grey eyes cast over your awe-struck face. He nods his head, urging you to step across the threshold. 

Swallowing thickly, you walk past him and feel the air in your lungs escape in a silent gasp. Thick, velvet carpet cushions your feet and stretches down a large hall, hiding away wooden floorboards that shine as if wet. Gilded paintings are hung on either walls, portraits and landscapes in oils. Vases sit neatly on tables with clusters of flowers, and a chandelier hangs above the room in glittering crystal and electric candles. 

You’re sure if you could see yourself, you’d be amused at the slack-jaw expression on your face as your eyes trace across the dark, polished interior of the house, sliding along the gleaming banisters of the grand staircase that must lead to even more exuberant displays of wealth. Was the owner a king? Or perhaps a lord from the 1700s? You nearly forgot all about the man that had smiled at you a day ago, and that you’d meet him again today. 

You hear Alfred clear his throat from behind you, and you swivel towards him, hands awkwardly clasped at your middle as if you’d been caught in the act of something. Your heart flutters as his eyes crease with a silent smile, and he strides past you through an arched doorway, and you follow quietly behind, unaware of just how different things will be from now on. 

You wonder if there’s something you’re searching for in that memory, with how many times you come back to it, but as the days stretch in a linear line of routines and phone calls, you shove it to the far side of the shelf, where it remains stationary and covered in dust. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, the state you’re in emotionally isn’t stable. You’re very good at hiding it, though memories and heartache trail after you like rumours, wrapping around your throat some days and sending unshed tears to gather in your eyes. Despite those days, you have a life that you can’t ignore or leave behind. You have a regular job as a secretary—nothing fancy—and interestingly, you can’t bring yourself to complain about it. You assist a defense attorney in the Department of Justice, and you’ve found that law, despite what many say, is quite entertaining to someone who isn’t directly involved with the legal proceedings. 

And you’ve made some friends, although you’re not sure if it’s an official thing or something you’ve decided on your own. Commissioner Gordon is kind to you, tilts his head when he sees you sitting at your desk, and gives you a mustached smile, auburn hair curling around the corners of his lips. He once brought you a coffee, tired eyes glancing your way with a softly spoken greeting. You wonder if he noticed the way you’d been able to smile after feeling like your face had gone numb. You wonder if he remembers how you looked six years ago in a purple and yellow suit.

The trek back to your apartment is notorious for bringing up unwanted snippets of a life long-gone. You see Bruce’s face in the passing men in business suits and finely tailored coats. Reflections of grey-haired gentlemen makes you think of Alfred with his creased eyes and dry, sarcastic humour. The occasional red sweater nearly sends you choking on air as flashes of a boy embellished with wonder and pride strikes your mind viciously. 

Alfred leads you into a kitchen, and again, you are in awe of the gleaming tiles beneath your feet, the pristine cupboards with glass fronts that let you see the polished crockery inside. As Alfred disappears into the hall outside again with a gentle instruction for you to stay put, you stand idly at the end of a long, white-washed table that gives you the impression of a beach-house dining room. It then strikes you that there’s probably a grand dining room elsewhere in the mansion. 

A rustling sound scratches at your ears and you turn just to see a second doorway at the opposite side of the room creak open—a doorway that blends seamlessly into the tan coloured wall. You’re rendered dumbly staring at a boy around your age, whose own eyes stare back at you in silent shock. In his arms, he cradles a packet of crackers and…a loaf of sliced bread.

Your gaze flicks between the contents in his arms and his widened eyes, before you clear your throat awkwardly and flick your hand in a tiny wave. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, and you wonder if the words are loud enough to even reach him. 

Your voice seems to snap him out of his surprise, and he blinks rapidly, straightening. 

“Hello,” he says in a voice that sounds forcefully deep, as if he were trying to sound bigger, stronger than what he looks. He’s tiny. Thin and bony, short even. You wonder if he actually is near your age, or much younger. 

Thick, black hair shifts atop of his head as he glances swiftly around the room, as if searching for someone else to explain your sudden appearance. Then he looks back at you with eyes that seem largely intelligent, yet skeptical, and you get the impression he’s silently sizing you up, or studying you. What he intends to find, you don’t know. 

You step back as he resolutely shuffles the crackers and bread in his arms to better fit in his hold, and makes his way to you, socked feet padding across the tiles. Watching mutely, he drops the items on the table with little care, the bread falling lopsided with a squishy thud. He turns to you fully and sticks his pale hand out to you. 

“I’m Jason Todd,” he says stiffly, jade-coloured eyes flickering across your profile. 

You glance at his hand with bated breath, noticing the red sweater he’s wearing has sleeves that are too long and cover most of his hand other than his fingers. 

Hesitantly, you curl your hand around his, palm to fabric, and shake it with little strength or enthusiasm. Like a wide-eyed deer, you feel as if you’ve met a grinning wolf with eyes that are kinder than what nature usually permits. 

You smile weakly and give him your name.

That memory leaves you with something throttling your heart, until you’re sure you might just pass out on the side of the street. That’s never happened before, but there’s always the possibility. 

Usually, you’re able to reign in these flashes of the past, and you’re largely successful as the days go by. Yet, when your phone lights up with a buzz, and you see the familiar name ‘Grayson’ pop up, you’re left standing in square one again with shaky fingers and burning eyes.

You’ve read countless messages from Dick, sent during the early morning hours or late in the afternoon. You figure it aligns with his schedule in Bludhaven. The young, twenty-four year old is adamant, ever since you left the manor three years ago, at eighteen, to remain in contact with you no matter what. You haven’t been able to escape his ceaseless concern over your whereabouts, the not-so-subtle questions about your well-being.

It’s funny to you, considering he hadn’t been the most emotionally stable person either, especially when, at fourteen, you and Jason became Batman’s well-known sidekicks, Batgirl and Robin. He had been eighteen, angry, and reckless, going off on his own to make a name for himself that isn’t weighted down by Bruce’s shadow. Yet now, despite owning your own place, securing a stable job, and regularly keeping up with normal adult responsibilities, the older man refuses to ease his worry over you. You know the truth.

He’s afraid of the grief you carry. 

You wonder if he’s even aware of his own grief, seeing as all he does is care about yours. You don’t have the heart to tell him to let it go, to give you space—you’re sure that he needs the weekly phone calls more than you do. So, you let him text, call, facetime. Sometimes you’re in the middle of grocery shopping when your phone vibrates with his name rolling across the screen in bright letters, ‘Dick Grayson is calling…’ 

And sometimes he says something that has you clenching your teeth, staring off at something if only to keep the burn behind your eyes minimal. He’s a trigger for many of these memory flashes that don’t ease the thing inside your chest that’s wailing. 

‘I saw this girl the other day that looked like Batgirl and I wondered if I’d been taken back in time, y’know? And—yeah, it was so strange…but then I was like, no—that makes no sense—she’s in Gotham, not here in Bludhaven, but like…she was decked out in purple and yellow, and I thought of you…’ 

Your ears have started ringing, drowning out the rest of Dick’s monologue; purple and yellow. Purple and yellow. That was Batgirl’s thing. That was your thing. Or, at least, it had been. 

You glance down at the pair of latex gloves you clutch in your hand. The material is bright yellow, shiny in the light. Grimacing, you look at Bruce and sigh. 

“B…?” 

A low hum is given in response, an acknowledgement of your pending question. You’ve grown used to Bruce’s minimal communication. The husky words said in a gruff voice, the clipped instructions, the low grunts. 

“Does it have to be bright purple and yellow?” Your voice is quiet, a little unsure. Years of shouting and backhanded slaps after a question still leaves you cautious. Afraid. 

The dark-haired man turns in his chair, sharp eyes sliding your way. You stand awkwardly, almost timid. You see the same softening around his eyes, the same flash of gentleness you’d seen when he found you hiding behind a filthy dumpster on a cold Tuesday night. 

“Yes,” he says flatly, and the single word lingers with something trailing behind it, as if there’s more that he wants to say. You wait patiently with raised brows, but he doesn’t say anything more, and turns his attention back to the glowing monitors, eyes flitting across blue-lettered reports and images.

You stand there with nothing else to say, the roof of the Batcave seemingly constrictive and as dark as a hole in the ground, the metal tiles under your feet empty and expansive. 

There isn’t a sting travelling across your cheek. There’s no screamed curses and insults thrown your way, simply because you asked a question. Yet, why does it feel as if you’ve been kicked in the gut? Was his answer not enough? Surely it is—it’s better than what you used to receive from the people who were meant to love you. 

You tug the gloves onto your hands, shimming your fingers into the right places, and glance down at your mustard-yellow boots. You’ll simply have to make do. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when an elderly lady nudges your arm, murmuring a small ‘excuse me’ as she leans over to grab a container of mozzarella balls. 

“Oh,” you mumble, smiling apologetically as you move out of the way. “Sorry, that’s—sorry.” 

You hear Dick’s faint voice call your name, and you bring your phone back up to your ear again, answering his questions with a quiet tone, walking away from the aisle of cheese and other dairy products.

For what it’s worth…those aren’t even the worst kinds of memories you have. No, the worst are of the boy shrouded in glory, the second Robin—Jason Todd.

Jason Todd had been the first thing to make sense in your life, which was strange, considering most of your life had been an abstract mess of scraped knees, broken plates, and late nights shooting hoops in the neighbourhood basketball court. A life that Jason knew very well, too. 

Perhaps it was the shared trauma of broken families that brought you closer together; sealed the both of you in a wordless acknowledgement that said, ‘I see you.’ Either way, the both of you acted as a crutch for the other, and you try to forget it as you stand in empty elevators, on the edge of the curb for a taxi cab, when you see a little boy with raven-feathered hair on the street. 

Oh, Jason. You were everything, is all that you can bring yourself to think some days, when the noise of the city becomes unbearable and you simply have to shove towels inside the gaps in the windowsill—if only to muffle the noise and silence the screaming police sirens.

Those are the days when you’re tempted to leave Gotham entirely, if only to run away from whatever thing is haunting you. Sometimes, in the shadowy darkness of the night, as you lay in bed with the covers drawn to your chin, you wonder if it’s Jason you see at the end of the bed. Small as he was, quiet, and vibrating with a passion that burned bright red. Then you blink and realise you’d only been imagining the straight slope of his nose or the curve of his eyelashes. 

“It’s entirely unfair,” you mumble, hands in your lap as you sit cross-legged in the centre of Jason’s room.

Surrounded by scattered CDs, you hear the floorboards creak as Jason moves around the edge of his bed, carrying a pile of books to the empty bookcase. You were helping him sort out the books and CDs he’s been collecting.

“What?” He scoffs with a grin that pulls more to the right than the left. “You’re jealous of boys and their ‘long eyelashes’?” 

You can’t help but smile at his mocking tone, the way he teases you as if you’ve known each other for longer than just a few months. Jade-green eyes glance at you briefly. 

Rolling your eyes, you sigh defeatedly with dropped shoulders. “Yes, because you all have such long, luscious lashes. Meanwhile, mine are just average.” 

Jason slides his pile of books into their designated spots, paper pressed against wood panels, and turns to you. Stepping over the littered CD cases, he crouches directly in front of you, and your breath catches. 

“I’m tellin’ you right now, nothing about you is average,” he says, and you can barely breathe with how intently he’s looking at you, and suddenly, it’s like you’re staring into the heart of Gotham. Broken and marred, bloodied and bruised, and yet still so irrevocably beautiful and worth everything. 

Well, you once thought that Gotham’s heart was worth everything. Now, you’re not so sure. You lost the clearest piece of love to you on the planet, a boy wrapped in barbed wire with a grin as infectious as a disease.

You wonder sometimes if you’re the only one who feels Jason’s absence as strongly. The emptiness that lingers where his laugh used to echo is so heavy, you’re sure it’s formed a presence of its own. Did his ghost haunt Dick as it did you? Did Dick check over his shoulder and blink rapidly whenever he saw a young boy wearing a red hoodie? Did he have to mutter to himself in the kitchen, pleading with himself to get over what used to be? Or were you the only one? 

And what about Bruce? Does the man who once held a broken, fifteen year old boy—who believed in everything the Batman stands for—reduce himself to a mess every night? 

Just the thought of Bruce sends a sick sense of bitterness churning in your gut, which you feel entirely guilty for. You know what happened wasn’t Bruce’s fault. You know that he did everything he could. Yet, when you think too hard about what it was like on the day he came back with nothing but red eyes, a clipped utterance, and no Jason…you have to run to the bathroom to empty out the contents of your stomach in the toilet. It’s embarrassing and leaves your cheeks burning with shame.

You should be over this by now. It’s been six years. 

Memory is a fickle thing, regardless of time. It chooses when to be heard and when to remain dormant. You’re stuck in an endless cycle of paralyzing remembrance and constant avoidance. Weeks go by without incident, only for a month to trap you inside your head with memories of a broken past. Then the cycle repeats. 

Despite this, you’ve learnt to cope with the past like a sailor does with the roughened sea. Although, you’re sure you’re more akin to a sailor stranded in a raging tempest. You ride each wave of nausea-inducing memory, all whilst clinging to the barest strip of wood—Dick Grayson and his ever-present concern, Alfred’s occasional query of your wellbeing, Bruce’s own sanity, the job you have, and the sickening feeling that you can’t let Jason see you like this, despite him not being here in the first place. 

You’re drowning in grief, and you know it. 

And so you’re not sure what exactly happened between April and June of 2005, but you know Dick’s phone calls stopped almost entirely for three whole months. You only called once, in carefully concealed panic, when you realised he hadn’t called you in two weeks.

“Hi, sorry. I know I don’t usually call, but you haven’t—” 

“No, no, don’t—uh—don’t apologise. I’m—yeah. I'm sorry, that’s my bad. Should’ve let you know. Things have just been busy, honey.” 

“...That’s all it is? Just been busy?” 

“Yeah, I promise. Everything’s okay.”

“Okay…well, I’m glad you’re okay then…”

The phone call had been short and it had put you on edge. Dick doesn’t let phone calls end abruptly—instead, he takes his time to explain things or rambles about topics you’re not very interested in. But you don’t push or prod, mostly because you have the suspicion it has to do with his life of vigilantism—the one you left behind five years ago. 

Leaving that life behind had been easy. Jason’s death meant the death of Robin. It meant the death of Batgirl, too. Although, your death had been inward and known by very few people. 

July comes by, only a week passes where Dick calls you consistently, and then it’s back to radio silence. The importance of his phone calls is viciously realised, but you don’t have the heart to admit it. Dick Grayson has been your crutch for the last three years, and you’re inexplicably starving for the care he manages to give you through his calls.

Taking it upon yourself to find out what’s going on, you decide to drive to the Manor.  You crank up the radio as loud as you can, the car rattling with noise as you cruise across the bridge that leads to the mainland. If you’re alone with nothing but silence and your thoughts, you’ll probably turn back the other way. It had been hard enough to convince yourself to grab your keys off the kitchen counter.

The Manor is just as grand as you remember it, if not a little weathered by time—brown against the blue sky, like a giant boulder sitting in the center of a vibrant green landscape that stretches flatly like a canvas before reaching a thin treeline of woods. Gravel crunches under tires, and the car’s engine rumbles before fading into silence. Blinking, you’re fourteen again as your hand wraps around the door handle, and you step out into the frigid air. 

Tugging your coat closer to your frame, you take measured steps up the driveway, glancing at the neatly pruned hedges that cluster beneath some of the large, lower windows, and the copper-leaved tree that’s remained the same for the last decade—sitting resolutely to the left of the estate and hiding away pale-brown bricks and frosted glass panes. 

The double doors, the colour of dirt, are the only thing between you and something that leaves behind a bitter taste in your mouth. Gripping the heavy, bronze door knocker, you thud it against the door three times, before stepping back as if burned by the metal. 

You’ve forgotten Alfred’s punctuality, because it’s only seconds before the doors silently groan open in the way that only heavy things do, and you’re met with grey, creased eyes that glue to you with reserved surprise. 

Lips twitching into a weak smile, you say quietly, “Hi, Alfred.” 

The stoic butler ushers you in quickly, a welcoming and familiar hand pressed lightly against your back to lead you across the threshold. He gestures to your coat, but you look at his wrinkled face and shake your head, something inside you breaking in half, but you don’t know what it is. 

“That’s okay, Alfred,” you say gently, “I just—I’m here to talk…to Bruce. Is he down in the cave?” 

Alfred nods his head, walking past you towards the parlour room. You follow behind quietly. 

“He is, indeed. Might I ask why you’ve come?” 

You glance his way to see him already looking at you, eyes the colour of iron flickering across your face as you both step into the parlour. It’s cold you notice, and the room is dim. 

“I, um…” you’re not sure how to word this—how could you possibly say, ‘I’m getting separation anxiety because Dick isn’t calling me and I want to know why’? 

“Just want to ask him if there’s something important going on…Dick’s been busier than usual,” is what you settle with, and Alfred accepts it with nothing but a simple nod, and no further questions. You appreciate Alfred’s uncanny ability to brush off any form of curiosity. 

The parlour room remains the same, with only a few, small changes. You’re sure that the two leather couches have been reupholstered; shinier and a richer shade of brown. Vases full of flowers are placed neatly beneath the colonial windows which are framed by thick curtains the colour of moss. Usually the bouquets consisted of lilies, but now they’re tulips. The persian carpet stretches across the polished floorboards, softening the sound of your shoes, and the mounted electrical lights are unlit, surrounded by clusters of gilded paintings. 

Passing under an arched entranceway, you walk into a familiar, adjacent room, where bookcases line the walls with glass doors, and an old grand piano sits as the centerpiece of it all. Sleek, black, and with keys open to the cool air that drifts in through an open window. 

Alfred looks your way with a careful glance, and says in a mild tone that’s not meant to be accusing.

“Do you still remember?” 

You wish you could tell him that you remember everything. Would it be ill of you to break down and spill your guts out to the man who’d patched you up more times than you can count? Who stitched torn skin back together again while you bit down on a piece of leather? Not that you needed it, anyway. 

No, you think to yourself. Alfred does not need to see me that way, either. 

You smile softly and bob your head. “Yes, I remember.” 

His thin lips quirk ever-so slightly, and he nods curtly. With his hands clasped neatly behind his back, he turns and leaves the room without another word, leaving you behind with your heartbeat pounding inside your ribcage like a panicked bird.

Glancing down at the gleaming keys, you lift your hand to hover above them with the intent to replicate a familiar tune. Your fingers are shaking violently, and for a moment, all you can hear is the blood rushing inside your ears, before you swallow thickly, and press your fingertips down on the cool ivory-coated wood. 

The melody is quiet, the pressure of your fingers not great enough to make it echo. Instead, it reminds you of the faint call of birds outside, the ones you’d see flying down from the trees to the lawn, picking at the grass.

A low creak deep inside the house reverberates through the room, and the centre bookcase dislodges from the wall with a scrape. You stagger back a step as the bookcase swings outward like a door—the books and the nick-nacks remaining stationary inside the shelves, a feat you had never decided to investigate. 

Your pulse flutters in your neck, and you unclench your jaw. Teeth aching, you look down the shadowed staircase that the bookcase had revealed. Entering the Batcave had been so normal to you, three years ago, and now, your stomach churns as if the bats that hang from the cave’s ceiling are living inside your gut. 

With a deep sigh and a shift of your feet, you take the steps down. The air is noticeably cooler, but damp, as if leftover mist was hanging in the air and brushing against your cheeks. You had realised, at fourteen, that it’s because there is mist in the air, courtesy of the waterfalls that rush from the ceiling like jets of water from a spout. You clench your fists by your sides to stop your hands from shaking. 

Reaching the bottom, you walk slowly across the metal floor of the first and main platform. Glancing to your left, monitors that curve at the sides glow brightly around sleek desks; news channels play from the ones mounted higher above, police scanners from different units below, and open windows of various different tabs on the ones below that. To your right, you spare a very brief look at the cylinder cases that display various suits. One scorched and shredded suit in particular sends bile rising up your throat, and you instantly tear your gaze away. 

Hopping down a small set of steps to the second platform, your footsteps echo as you pass the several medical cots neatly placed in rows, the smell of antiseptic light in the air from countless injuries tended to on the white cotton mattresses. It lingers, and your throat tightens at the memory of sitting on the edge of one of the cots, legs dangling, and wincing whenever Alfred passed a needle through your skin. Blinking and burying the memory down, you quickly shuffle past and stop at the top of another flight of stairs. 

This one leads to the third and last level of the Batcave that acts as two main things: Bruce’s main monitor that only he can use, and the Batmobile’s, quote on quote, ‘garage’. Looking down at the platform below, you hesitate. Currently, the Batmobile isn’t in sight, instead hidden beneath the platform to make room for two large monitor screens mounted to a desk, where a broad shouldered man sits. 

Any courage that you might have had before is shattered in an instant. How do you possibly speak into the empty, moist air of the cave without your voice cracking like a pubescent teen’s? How can you possibly ask Bruce Wayne anything when you haven’t spoken to him in over a year?

And then you remember the cost of the gasoline you pumped into your car, and the fear that’s lodged itself inside your ribcage because Dick hasn’t been calling you as often as he did. Are you afraid for Dick, or are you afraid of a change in routine? 

You inhale sharply through your nose, the air chilling the inside of your lungs. Petrichor hangs in the air, and although the scent is usually soothing, nothing seems to quieten the thundering beat of your heart. 

“You know I’m here,” you say from atop the stairs, and your voice echoes like a ripple in still water. 

Bruce barely shifts in his chair, rectangular glasses sitting on the high ridge of his nose. That’s new. 

“Why?” Comes his gruff response…that's not new. 

You inhale deeply, steeling your nerves as you descend the staircase. You know this man, he’s not a stranger. Oh, what a lie that is. 

“Dick’s been busy,” you say, hating how your voice sounds so loud in the emptiness of the cave. 

Bruce doesn’t look at you, but instead his eyes flick over the text on the monitor screens, and you can feel yourself shrivelling inside, and you’re no longer twenty-one, but fifteen and choking on grief. 

“Bruce, what’s been going on?”

The tone of your voice is only slightly firmer, because you really can’t stand being here for much longer.

A rough exhalation of air meets you, wide shoulders rolling stiffly before he finally turns to you, the chair squeaking quietly. For the first time in over a year, you meet familiar eyes the colour of gunmetal-blue, and feel something crash down on you heavily. 

“Nothing,” he says lowly, and the gravel of his voice echoes out clearly through the cave. The rush of the waterfalls is nowhere near as loud as the thin humming of blood in your ears.

“Things have been the same as always—” 

“That’s not true,” you interject, surprising yourself even with the severity you push out. 

His sharp brows knit together, and he goes to say your name in what you’re sure would have been a stern tone, but you don’t let him utter even the first syllable out. 

“Dick calls me all the time,” you say, raising a loose hand, “and now he’s barely been able to call me twice. It’s not normal, and I want to know why he’s so busy. Last time we spoke, he said he’s been helping you.”

Shockingly, you watch as Bruce takes his glasses off and rubs a harsh hand over his face. You notice now that his jaw is covered in dark stubble, instead of being clean shaven. Now that you see him fully, you notice just how tired he seems, and something other than the panicked bird in your chest comes to life. 

Something’s wrong. 

Watching the creases in his forehead deepen, as if he’s thinking about something severely upsetting, you wait with your feet glued to the floor. Not even seconds ago, you felt the urgent need to flee, as if your skeleton could not remain still for another second, but now, it’s as if gravity has latched an even tighter hand around your ankles, keeping you firmly in place. 

If Bruce is…ruffled by whatever thing is going on, you need to know. You have to know, even if it has nothing to do with you. The thought confuses you; caring about Bruce’s issues hasn’t been at the top of your agenda for three years. 

“Someone new has come to Gotham,” Bruce finally says, and his voice is quieter than before. 

Immediately, you frown. “Who?” 

Bruce stands with a near silent huff, as if his muscles are aching and it’s getting the best of him, and he starts ascending the stairs up to the first platform. You’ve known since you were fourteen that he wants you to follow him. 

“He showed up three months ago.” Well, that checks out with the cessation of Dick’s phone calls. 

Walking up the three flights of stairs, you trail behind Bruce as he makes his way up to the curved monitors, falling heavily into one of the rolling chairs. You eye him curiously, your pulse fluttering with anxiety as the keyboard clicks and clacks beneath his swift fingers. 

An image pops up on the screen, and you squint at a blurred image of a man seated on a motorcycle. You can just make out the train tracks that run through the ground and the station's arched ceiling made of steel beams and glass. 

Your frown deepens. “What is….?” 

Bruce doesn’t pay you any mind, instead typing quickly again. The image’s resolution refreshes, and you can see much clearer. Your head tilts with further intrigue as you notice the red helmet the biker wears, but it looks nothing like a motorcycle helmet—no, it’s smooth and sleek, with gleaming white eyes instead of a visor. 

“Well…” you say slowly, “what’s so special about him that it’s got you and Dick working so hard?” 

Bruce clicks another key, and you realise that it’s not an image, but a video. You hear the masked man call out, voice deep and heavy.

“You haven’t lost your touch!” 

The man’s voice is nearly drowned out entirely at the end by a train as it roars past, hiding the biker from view completely. Bruce pauses the video. 

Your confusion only heightens, and a dull burn of frustration settles in your chest because why can’t Bruce just tell you instead of forcing you to figure it out on your own?  

“I don’t understand,” you sigh, glancing at Bruce’s profile. Gosh, he looks terrible. 

Bruce remains quiet, a deep exhale passing through his nose as he types again, the sound echoing in your ears louder than it should. The video replays, this time without the overlaying noise of the train. 

You haven’t lost your touch, Bruce!” 

A pang of shock shoots through you, brows raising. You look to Bruce, searching for an answer in his silence. This unknown man, wearing a strange helmet, knows who the Batman is? That’s…disastrous. 

You’re not prepared for Bruce to stand, nor for him to walk past you to the other side of the platform where the cylinder glass cases are. You swallow thickly, eyes flickering between the wide line of his shoulders and the case he approaches. Remaining in place, you don’t dare say anything, instead waiting for him to speak. 

Bruce says your name, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach with a heavy thud. 

He’s standing in front of the torn and shredded suit you’d barely been able to look at for more than a second when you came down here in the first place. 

He’s looking at Jason’s suit. 

Your voice trembles. “B?” 

“It’s him.” 

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence. No, no, no. 

“Bruce, stop—” 

“He’s trained,” Bruce continues, paying your increasing panic no mind. He only stares at his reflection in the glass, as if he could find something that would solve all of this. As if there’s an answer to the guilt you can see so plainly in front of you. 

“He knows things that only a Robin would know.” 

You can feel the inside of your elbows burning, your fingers violently shaking at your sides. You can’t bring yourself to say anything, but you’re desperate to scream. 

You’re insane. You’ve gone insane! 

“Things…only Jason would know.” 

You break. “Stop, Bruce. He’s dead. He’s dead.” 

Bruce turns, eyes snapping to you with intensity. You can’t pin-point the emotion in his face—you almost never could before—and your hand presses to your chest where your heart thunders against muscle and bone. 

This had been a terrible mistake. You should never have come back here. 

“If this…if this is what you’re saying to help you sleep at night…” you warn, but the strength of your voice is barely there, wobbling like laminated paper. “Then that’s fine, but don’t…don’t you dare bring me into it.” 

Bruce regards you with a calculating look, as if mentally pinpointing all the parts of you that are breaking. How dare he say such a ridiculous, cruel thing? After six years? Six years of pretending that everything’s okay? 

You hear him say your name lowly again, and you shake your head, pointing a trembling finger at him.  

“It’s been six years, Bruce. You held him. This—this man,” you glance briefly behind you at the monitor, lifting a weak hand, “he’s probably just some—some guy that’s smarter than everyone else.” 

Even you know how unlikely that is, but you can’t hear anything over your pulse and the overwhelming panic that’s clawing at the lining of your stomach. 

Bruce sighs deeply, the rough sound grating at your ears. You should have just waited for things to blow over. Dick would have started calling you again, and you’d never have asked what was happening—never would have stepped back into this second home of yours that’s far too empty. 

“I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t sure,” Bruce says, and his voice comes out quietly, as if he’s finally realising the damage he’s causing you in this moment. 

“He’s dead,” you hiss, your voice catching. Your cheeks are wet, and you don’t remember when you started crying—you shouldn’t be. Not in front of Bruce. 

“There’s a way to bring people back…” 

You’re shaking your head again, trying to suck air back into your chest, if only for your heart to stop thudding against your ribcage like it’s trapped. 

But he won’t stop talking. “It’s called the Lazar—” 

“Stop,” you gasp, hands clamping over your ears.

As if you’d inhaled concrete into your lungs, you can barely breathe, and you can almost imagine the taste of asphalt on your tongue—no, that’s the blood from your bitten tongue. 

You stagger back a step, feeling as if everything around you is spinning. Gunmetal-blue eyes stare at you with concealed concern, flickering across your face. Your gaze falls on the case behind him, the shredded red and yellow fabric that taunts you, and all you can remember is the heat of the explosion.

Your legs give out. Your head hits the floor before Bruce can get to you. 

Your name is whispered urgently, and your consciousness returns to you in slow blinks as you wake up. Someone’s shaking your shoulder, fingers gripping the edge of your sleeve. 

Pale moonlight illuminates the jade-green eyes that blink down at you, and you groan, pushing your palm against Jason’s cheek and away from you. It’s the middle of the night and you were sleeping so well. 

“What?” You grumble as you throw your arm across your face, and you hear his quiet breath. 

“You gotta see something.” 

Dropping your arm, your bleary eyes glare at him tiredly. It’s the first night you’ve had in ages that doesn’t involve swinging from one rooftop to the next, and he wants you to get up and see something? Is he serious? 

Jason tilts his head, his lopsided smile curling his lips.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, nudging his head to the side. A small gesture for you to get up and follow him. Indulge him in whatever nighttime adventure he has planned. 

Glancing between him, the digital clock on your nightstand that winks 1.34 AM at you, and your open door…you huff and fling your duvet off of you. 

“If this is something stupid…” 

“It’s not,” Jason assures you with a sigh, socked feet silent along the hardwood floor. 

Trailing behind Jason and yawning into your elbow, the two of you silently make your way up marble staircases and down empty hallways. The third level of the manor is mostly bare, sparse pieces of furniture hidden behind white sheets like dormant ghosts, and as well trained as you both are to remain silent, your footsteps echo in the emptiness. 

“Jason, what exactly—” 

He cuts off your whisper with a shush, a single finger pressed to his lips. He places a hand on your shoulder, the weight heavy and warm, and nudges you into the largest hall on the level. It’s noticeably brighter, the windows devoid of curtains and letting the moonlight spill against the floor in giant rectangles.

Typically, this room is used for wrestling, floor mats splayed across the hardwood floor that isn’t as shiny as the lower floors. You follow Jason as he crosses the room, his raven-feathered hair ruffled. 

Crouching beside him at one of the windows, you notice the glass pane has been pushed open, and the telescope Bruce bought for Jason’s birthday is propped against the windowsill. Usually, Alfred insists that the windows are kept closed during the night, as the last time one was left open, a bat had come into the manor and had remained chained to the ceiling for the better part of a week. 

You frown with intrigue as Jason peers into the telescope. He glances at you, bobbing his head for you to do the same. Jason watches you carefully as you lean forward, fingers pressing lightly against the scope as you look through the glass. 

As bright as an orb of lightning, the moon greets you in a stunning vision of magnified quality. Your breath leaves you in a quiet gasp, and you trace the grey lines that make up the craters that crack through the moon’s surface. It’s as if the moon were made of glowing glass, and the craters were the product of golf balls smashing into it. 

You pull away, and find that Jason is already looking at you. A wide grin creeps across your face. 

“It’s amazing,” you murmur quietly, and your initial grogginess has already begun to dissipate. 

Jason’s dark lashes flicker, and he smiles. The right side of his mouth is always higher than the left, and you've always loved the deep commas around the corners of his lips.

“Thought you might like it,” he says, keeping his voice low. 

For a moment, you’re suspended in his gaze, watching the minuscule movement of his eyes as they trace your features and the smile that remains on your face. He's calm, in this moment. The opposite of what he has been for the last few weeks, and you relish in it. 

“Thank you for showing me.” 

Jason’s lips curve upward farther, the creases around his eyes deepening like he's proud.

“...Even though you woke me up at an ungodly time.” 

Your shoulder is pushed back lightly by his hand, and you laugh with a quiet breath, hearing his own chuckles reverberate next to you. 

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles, his voice carrying his smile audibly. 

You lean forward again, quinting through the eyepiece. You’ve never been able to see the moon this close, and you never even dreamed that you would. The only thing that ever came close to this was the printed images in the library books at the school you once went to. 

“It’s so—” your words die when you lean back again, finding the space beside you empty. The warmth of his body absent, as if he had never been there in the first place.

Blinking, your head swivels around, and confusion settles in your chest. Where’d he go?

“Jason?” 

Standing to your feet, your fingers idly rub at your arm as you look around the large hall. You look in the shadows, but you find nothing there. There’s only you and the sound of your breathing, the floormats suddenly uncomfortably soft beneath your feet, as if you might just fall through them. 

He couldn’t have left the room so quickly, could he? 

The light in the room dims, and you glance behind you through the window. Dark clouds slither across the moon, and something cold wraps around your lungs.

You spin, gaze frantically searching. 

“Jason?” You call out, not bothering to hide the volume of your voice in the quiet manor. “Jason!?” 

There’s nothing but noise in your ears, muffled and warped. The darkness of your closed eyelids is the only thing that greets you, and a pounding in the back of your skull and a singular sentence. 

Where’s Jason? Where’s Jason? Where’s Jason? 

Your eyes fling open and you shoot upright, gasping.

Jason’s here. 

______________________________

Thank you for reading! God bless! :]

[kyeranmari]

Born to be a Star | Mingyu | SVT Destiny Matrix | Pt. 1

hello this kyeranmari ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

i’m back with another reading for my svt destiny matrix series! on this post, we’ll be exploring another character that piqued quite my interest.

as you can read from the title, i’ll be putting the spotlight on mingyu & why i believe that he was born to be a star ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

this post might be a long one, as i’m going to explore quite the number of aspects and zones for this reading. so i hope you’re equipped with the patience (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ i promise to keep it light & easy to digest, though!

thanks in advance for reading ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

part 1.1 chart aspects & zones

before we start exploring mingyu’s chart, i’d like to first share a point of reference to the purpose of each aspect & zone im gonna be tapping into. of course, every area of our charts must come together as one to tell us our fortune holistically. but again, this series is just for fun. as i’ve mentioned in this post, i can’t disclose everything i can read into the members’ charts. plus, it takes a whole day to read someone’s chart actually (i’ve tried it, trust me), so i’m providing abridged readings only.

anyways ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

i'm going to be breaking this reading into two parts. the main area we’ll be looking into for this reading is the money line. this is the area you usually look at to know how you can manifest financial or material abundance in your life. this is one of the areas where you can find your ideal career or business opportunity, how you should be spending or investing your money, and an additional area for what intentions you could adapt while you do the latter activities.

to some people, this area is enough for them to make sense of their financial situation. but if you want to look at it in relation to purpose, calling, and talents, you can also look at these sections to provide supporting details:

portrait zone

talent zone

financial/material karma

material karma of both parents

i'll be talking about these supporting details in part 2 as they're a whole bunch of long sections altogether. they'll still circle back to the money line, so you can see how all these aspects relate to one another. it's quite interesting, too, so please watch out for it soon!

moving on! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

here’s a labeled version of mingyu’s destiny matrix chart you can use as reference:

sorry it’s kind of a mess (ᵕ—ᗜ—) it’s me & my ipad against the world

i’ve already labelled each subsection for each zone so you could have an idea of what they mean within the destiny matrix chart. i use this chart calculator online, by the way. you can graph this much like any other divination chart, of course. but to make it easy, you can just let the computer do the computing for you (it involves math).

now with this in mind, let’s now explore the energies housed in these parts of mingyu’s chart!

part 1.2 mingyu’s money line

as i’ve mentioned, the very focus of this post will be of mingyu’s money line. this is where all the other supporting details will revolve around and go back to in conclusion. so let’s dive right in!

✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ )

as we can see from this chart, the mingyu’s full money line houses the energies 17-7-8. these are the energies of the star, the chariot, and justice.

i’d like to note that in reading the destiny matrix, we use the marseilles tarot instead of the rider-waite deck. the difference between these decks is that the positions of justice & strength are interchanged. in rider-waite, justice is represented by the number 11, while it’s the number 8 in marseilles. why this system the way it is can be left for another time. for now, let’s focus on reading!

a. financial log-in: the star (17)

right off the bat, this was the aspect that really caught my attention about mingyu’s professional destiny. the star, in the context of careers and money, essentially represents talents, creativity, and making connections. although some other numbers can represent these in general, the star gives the nuance of being seen. basically, popularity.

this tells us that mingyu was born gifted. but while others who are being asked to dedicate their natural talents to society, or use their talents to revere themselves, or manifest their dreams, mingyu’s task is to expose them to the world. in order to manifest financial/material abundance, he musn’t be afraid of the spotlight. of people praising him. of making connections within the industry he’s in and pursue being a credible figure.

because stars are meant to shine, aren’t they?

i really love this because the star in the financial log-in means he was called to it. identifying the language that the universe is speaking to you with is very important to manifesting your fate in the positive. and to be called to do something in order to breakthrough your barriers, to me, weighs much more than being simply programmed to be something.

b. financial flow: the chariot (7)

as we always say in spirituality, manifestation must always be paired with action. we cannot always rely on the universe to hand over the best version of ourselves and our lives on a silver platter if we don’t do anything to achieve it. because while everyone has a right to a good life, we also have a responsibility to ourselves & to our fates that we must commit to.

in the money line, the area of financial flow is your instruction on how to generate your income or how to keep it flowing. directly under the money sign, some people look at this area to find their ideal careers or business venture. for mingyu, we could see that his flow is influenced by the chariot (7).

this suggests that, in order to manifest a steady and abundant flow of income into his life, he must invest his efforts in an endeavor in which he’s in constant motion. in addition, he must develop drive & discipline, or be in an area that naturally evokes this in him.

being an idol suits him in this regard. the entertainment industry requires a lot of movement, discipline, and passion from those who want to be a star among a whole galaxy. and knowing the level of training and preparation he does with seventeen as well as the long list of experiences he probably has on his resume, we could infer that the stage, variety shows, model shoots, runways, etc. are natural habitats to him.

but what i loved most about this area is that it's proof of how natural it is for mingyu to be hardworking. he has a strong sense of what he wants out of his career and truly loves it. similar to the fool (22), he's also being called to commit. only difference is that the chariot almost always does.

pair all this with his log-in under the star, he truly is the perfect idol.

c. balance / intention: justice (8)

in this last section of the money line (or the "tail" as i like to call it), we can see the intentions we can apply and keep in mind in order to positively manifest financial abundance in our lives. typically, this is simply the area where you can find balance between money and love. but so far in the readings i've done for other people, it comes out as the value you must possess to reach your career/financial goals when you read it in the sole context of the money line.

this area asks us what we're gonna do with all this abundance. it's not enough for you to just have it. you also have to reassure the universe that you're using the blessings you receive for its intended purpose. because who wants bad karma, right?

looking back at mingyu's chart, we see that this area is under the energy of justice (8).

simply put, this suggests that all the work mingyu does must always be ethical. justice is, in its name, all about fairness and making decisions that are honest. if he really wants to succeed & keep material abundance at the palm of his hands, he must not cheat, lie, or steal from anyone. most importantly, he must be willing to share. the universe will grant him this life of fame and fortune, but he must live it earnestly.

this doesn't have to be material possessions, though. especially not in the context of his line of work. this could mean that even though he naturally draws the spotlight on him, he must remember to share it with other people. he must keep only the recognition that he truly worked hard for. pursue only the opportunities that fit him the best, and those that don't must be given to those who deserve it.

and god, am i proud that mingyu does this a lot. mingyu's love for his career extends way beyond himself as he lets it pour onto his members, his coworkers, and the industry itself. the strongest proof i have of this is when he himself said that his goal is to keep seventeen together. wasn't he the one that initiated their contract renewal as thirteen? wasn't he the one that urged them to talk about it despite how difficult of a conversation it was?

despite the amount of his solo activities, he keeps coming home to seventeen. he keeps sharing his success to them. always crediting his brothers/friends for the drive & discipline he learned to possess. and most importantly, always inspiring the people around him.

part 1.3 final thoughts

there's no doubt that mingyu is blessed by the universe. not only is he very much connected with his purpose, he's also doing all the work that's needed and applying the virtues required. this just makes me even more proud to be a carat. i've been so used to seeing artists of different media get their souls sucked off by capitalism or their spirits die off because of burn out. so it truly feels just as fulfilling on my end as a fan to know that i'm supporting someone who genuinely loves what he does in such a pure manner and enjoys his time doing so.

of course, this isn't all of it. but this alone, to me, proves why mingyu was born for stardom. and i'm so excited to prove it further in the next post.

if you have the same aspects as mingyu on your money line, i deem you very lucky! you have someone like him to inspire you to positively manifest the financial abundance that the universe has programmed for you. so if you're looking for a sign to turn your life around for the better, this might be it. take it. run with it.

for the good of all & the harm of none ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

---

if you made it this far, thank you! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- i hope this reading brought you entertainment and enlightenment. perhaps, even a new perspective of mingyu and/or your life ♡

again, if you have additional thoughts / corrections you'd like to share, please don't be afraid to do so!! i'd love to know what you think/feel about this hihihi ( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩)

see u in part 2~! (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

[sunderingstars]

.✦ ── ✦.

mundanite assembly

.✦ ── ✦.

what the stars reveal: interpretative analysis, theory crafting, elation!sampo and erudition!sampo, coining ma!sampo (short for mundanite assembly!sampo) as we speak, and printed!sampo too, small breakdown over windup world (iii), okay just hear me out, post-analysis clarity made me open my third eye for this one

word count: 10.8k

overview: a breakdown of all six mundanite assembly (unknowable domain) stories — “the great lie,” “those remembered,” “resleeved,” “dousing flames,” “printed truths,” and “windup world” — in the context of sampo koski’s potential backstory & identity.

.✦ ── ✦.

Introduction

.✦ ── ✦.

In terms of Sampo Koski as a character, I’m still not entirely confident that Mundanite Assembly (MA for short) applies to him. Although I detail a lot — and I mean a lot — of similarities between these stories and what we know about Sampo in this analysis, the truth is that his past is shrouded in so much mystery that it could have literally nothing to do with the Unknowable Domain.

That being said, I do hope I can put forward a solid thesis here: Mundanite Assembly may, in a chronological sense, provide information on Sampo Koski’s origins, identity, and backstory through the exploration of small moments in time across different, likely reincarnating, “copied,” or transferable, lives.

(Mundanite Assembly is a relatively new piece of evidence for Sampo theories, so I apologize if I miss any details or lore implications. I’m not too familiar with the Scholars’ Strife or the Second Emperor’s War, so feel free to let me know about any extra information I miss.

Also, a big shoutout to @/ricochetlovebombs and @/anothermtroubls for pointing me in the direction of Rubert and Rubert II!)

I will be referring to the second person “you” perspective of each story sometimes by who the protagonist is (a professor, a memory device, etc.) and sometimes by “Sampo” directly. This doesn’t mean I think the MA!Sampo theory is 100% true, only that using Sampo’s name gets my point across more clearly.

.✦ ── ✦.

General Observations

.✦ ── ✦.

— Chronology. The Great Lie ➜ Those Remembered ➜ Resleeved ➜ Dousing Flames ➜ Printed Truths ➜ Windup World. There are a few exceptions I’ll explain when we get to them, but this is the general chronology I see these stories taking (as it is the order they appear on screen).

— Chapters of Note. Resleeved (II) and (III), Printed Truths (I), and Windup World (III) are the most important parts for my understanding of Sampo as he relates to MA. Resleeved (II) and (III) deal with experimentation and creation themes, as well as “breaking,” abandonment, and Organic Heart, while Printed Truths (I) sheds some light on the “cell printing” process of copying individuals. Windup World (III), on the other hand, is likely Sampo’s first or near-first interaction with the Tavern, centering on Elation, being used as a puppet, cruel jokes, and the origin of some of Sampo’s current worldviews.

— General Themes and Events. The reason Mundanite Assembly comes across as a giant Sampo lore drop to me is because of the themes and events it includes. Here are a few:

— Focus on truth and lies; being “created,” brought into the world, and/or stolen; being abandoned, discarded, and “broken” multiple times; advanced awareness; inhumane and dehumanizing experiments; Organic Heart; rage, anger, and vengeance, sometimes carried out in full; technological and mechanical links to Curio Hacker; Nihility, Erudition, and Elation imagery; slow shift in worldview to accommodate Elation-aligned vocabulary; focus on money, wealth, and knowledge; entire sub-section about being a thief; explicit interaction with the Tavern, as well as being literally puppeted around for a cruel joke.

— Elation. While this analysis is a departure from my previous, solely Elation-focused theories, I do still believe the Elation has been a large part of Sampo’s life. Just because Mundanite Assembly focuses on a time where Sampo had more to do with the Erudition, it doesn’t mean that Elation isn’t important as well — in fact, there is a pretty strong shift from Erudition to Elation by the end of Windup World (III).

— The time gap after the Tavern is not detailed in MA, but likely includes most of his experiences with the Elation, including how he became so close with the Masked Fools and potentially an Elation Emanator himself.

— Existence. After looking at the stories individually and as a whole, I’ve come to think Sampo has a sort of “curse” on him, a byproduct of his existence that leads him to repeat equally painful and doomed narratives through paradox. While each story may be completely unrelated, they share uncanny similarities in violence, betrayal, and “breaking.” It makes me think, despite certain outside presences, that Sampo is trapped in a “loop” of inevitability, which would be what the Masked Fool is divining in Windup World (III). There is also the chance that he is the “copy” of someone else, like in Printed Truths (I).

— Perspective. While I want to believe each story’s “you” is talking about the same, repeating protagonist due to thematic throughlines and narrative similarities, there are likely multiple perspectives at play here. Resleeved and Windup World for sure feel like Sampo to me, as well as Those Remembered and certain parts of Printed Truths, but Dousing Flames especially seems “outside” the perspective of whoever Sampo is or will become. I will detail what I think the perspective of each section is when I get to them!

— Rubert. Rubert is an interesting case, mostly due to the fact he canonically has a successor — Rubert II — who inherited his memories. I do believe the original Rubert is dead, as per what is mentioned in-game, but Rubert II has a lot more mystery surrounding him. It’s entirely possible that the “copying” mentioned in Printed Truths (I) has to do with copying Rubert himself, and Sampo is the resulting clone. Also, who knows, there could even be a “Rubert III” out there that no one knows about! There are a few incongruences I’ll talk about when I get to each part, and it does mess with the perspective of things a bit, but it’s a theory worth considering.

— Cover Art. The Great Lie is red with a jellyfish hidden within, and is cracked. (Interestingly enough, this reminds me of the Enigmata, and since it links to Sampo’s breaking, it makes me think maybe the Enigmata is why he’s so confusing! Keyword: Lie.) Those Remembered is a locked box with a keyhole opening. (Perhaps meant to symbolize both the Memory Unit and opening of “Pandora’s Box,” so to speak. Key word for “copying” memories: Remembered.) Resleeved features blue — a very notable color — leaves encasing metal insides. (Reminds me of Organic Heart, points towards a new form or “outward appearance” masking the circuitry underneath. Keyword for “reforging” or new forms: Resleeved.)

— Cover Art (Cont.). Dousing Flames looks like a miniature galaxy. (Representative of the discussions of quantum mechanics and theory, as well as the almost vast, unexplainable nature of Sampo’s potential copying and reincarnation. Keyword for hatred, fire feather on day five of the shop event, or the fire in “Cloud of Doubt”: Flames.) Printed Truths is a round puzzle with the last piece fitting into place. (Indicative of the “puzzle” of copying higher existence, as well as Sampo likely trying to gain knowledge about himself and the universe as well. Keyword for money: Printed.) Lastly, Windup World features a clock with its hands and time slots in oddly-sized and placed positions. (Similar to the strange way time and life seems to distort around Sampo, as well as the Masked Fool talking about divining his “future.” Keyword for doll or puppet status: Windup.)

— Repeating Lives. This is a tricky one, because not much of Sampo’s character implies the sort of “life cycles” I end up talking about here — it’s pretty new territory as far as Sampo theories are concerned. However, this lack of hinting could make sense if Sampo himself is confused or unaware about it; especially if, perhaps, this is a byproduct of his existence that is doomed to repeat over and over unbeknownst to him.

— In terms of what does make sense,though, repeating lives or some kind of “cycle” would explain why all MA stories have similar threads and themes despite occupying different times, characters, and biology, as well as why they all end in the same kind of breaking or misfortune. It also explains why the Masked Fool in Windup World (III) is so deliberately taunting about Sampo’s “future” and “divination.”

— There is also the possibility that he, as a memory storage device or “copied” being, is simply simulating or remembering these lives in his memory, with the memories originating from different sources before all finding their way to the same place — him.

— Personally, I believe the Masked Fool’s prophetic “joke” in Windup World (III) may be meant to simulate Sampo’s existence; a cycle doomed to repeat, the way he returns “unharmed” to his seat after delivering what should’ve been a killing blow, and the “nihilistic” nature of not truly having a choice in any of it. The only question is if he remembers all the lives he’s lived or not. (*Cough* Whatever the AetherTurbo Bookmark from the Shop Event symbolizes may be helping him retrieve these memories, likely given to him by the Elation. *cough*)

— If I could sum up all of this, every iteration, every cycle, as one word, it would be: misfortune.

Now, let’s get into the specifics of each part! (I will be formatting them as a bulleted list with some extra explanations.)

.✦ ── ✦.

The Great Lie

.✦ ── ✦.

“The Great Lie” focuses on a professor who, after their students and school turn on them believing Synesthesia Beacons and general knowledge to be evil, finds themself shuttled through a series of academic conflicts that result in an unemployed, broken, and lonely life begging outside the gates of their former workplace. (Notably, this mental brokenness includes repeating the lines “I am a liar” over and over again.)

— The first paragraph mentions the “Enigmata,” which is an interesting choice if we’re viewing MA as chronological and even cyclical. Even more interesting is that it isn’t mentioned again after The Great Lie, becoming too obscured by other forces like Erudition and Elation.

— Takes place at Palonglek University. “You” can be assumed to be a professor there teaching Basic Aeonic Theory.

— Introduces a core discussion about the Synesthesia Beacon, and how “original knowledge” often cannot be accessed, instead being found through the filter of the Beacon.

— “The only thing there was no room for, was knowledge.”

— Starts “in the cold darkness,” a running theme with a few of these sub-sections. This may be able to be interpreted as how Sampo’s life always begins — in a cold or dark place.

— School of Relative Cognition; very Erudition-coded.

— The professor — “you” — stands strong in their use of the Synesthesia Beacon, even when being threatened with dismissal. In the end, they give over their copper ring, either willingly or by force depending on what dialogue is chosen. They are replaced immediately after.

— Despite the “Erudition” front of the school, it seems to be veering into the Enigmata more than anything else, talking about how the Synesthesia Beacon is “evil” and implying the glorification of knowledge is dangerous.

— Some running themes to note: cold darkness, Erudition, Synesthesia Beacons, lack of choice (all options leading to the same outcome), and being abandoned, discarded, or replaced.

— This new situation of dismissal is compared to “a precious flower being uprooted from a greenhouse.”

— The theme of discarding and abandonment continues: the government halts their educational stipend, students cut off contact, and their family leaves.

— Now “you are all alone, forced to become an elementary school math teacher in a small town to survive.” This seems to mirror how Sampo, the lonely character that he is, finds himself in Belobog, a relatively small planet occupying a relatively specific niche.

— Arguments start up among students again, this time over simple, easy information. “You” lose your job once again, and even though there are two choices — write a letter of complaint or accept the fate silently — they both lead to the same end. Nothing changes.

— “Fools” are mentioned in both dialogue options: “Even an ant has a more objective view of reality than this army of fools.” Foreshadowing, perhaps?

— Interestingly enough, even though the immediate situation doesn’t change, the movement of Relative Cognition eventually wanes, but not without leaving its scars. The former professor, now unemployed, without a family, and potentially homeless, is found begging outside the Academy, repeating two significant lines.

— “Aeons are a lie. I am a liar, I am a liar…”

— By the end, the protagonist is not only broken materially and mentally, but spiritually.

— The repetition of lying and “I am a liar” is interesting, as Sampo is often referred to as a “liar,” if not by implication then by occurrences like Ship of Fools that position him outright as “a liar with negative credit.”

Conclusions:

— I am not sure where this fits chronologically — although I am tempted to say it is at the “beginning” of MA since it’s the first one on the screen, “Those Remembered” does seem like a more solid origin to me; of course, it could all be part of the cycle, and perhaps “The Great Lie” really is the first glimpse we see of a repeating “life” since things tend to be reset so often.

— Despite where and when it may fall, this chapter introduces several running themes, especially the cyclical nature of conflict, the illusion of “choice,” and most importantly, being abandoned, discarded, or broken.

— “I am a liar” definitely sticks out to me as well!

— I’m not sure where Rubert fits in here, as this professor seems to carry the same thematic “cycle” as the rest of the stories, but without any solid evidence as to being Rubert. It definitely seems to be the odd one out here, but maybe I’m missing something.

— Thus begins what I posit is Sampo’s repeating “life cycle”: cold darkness to awareness, the seeking or teaching of knowledge, separate “choices” made under the illusion of free will, and a series of conflicts or misfortunes that lead to being abandoned, discarded, or “broken” — either metaphorically or quite literally being killed. (In this case, it is the situational “brokenness” of the former professor’s material, spiritual, and psychological situation.)

.✦ ── ✦.

Those Remembered

.✦ ── ✦.

“Those Remembered” sees a T500 Quantum Memory Device buried and forgotten by the Candelographos in an attempt to save it from being destroyed by the History Fictionologists (affiliated with the Enigmata). In its time deep below the earth, it runs through the entire history of civilization, becoming extremely empathetic towards “humanity” and “civilization.” It is excited to be rediscovered.

— “Your race believes in a legend, that all things are born from chaos.” Reminds me of the Elation, the idea of “chaos” and “creation” having significant overlap!

— Nous is explicitly mentioned, creating this cycle’s link to Erudition.

— “You have waited endlessly in the chaos” — another point for the Elation.

— Once again, we begin in darkness. “Creation” is also present.

— The protagonist assumes the woman who appears is Nous, but she is later identified as Xiaoya, a scribe and student of a teacher who is also present.

— We are also given an explicit statement of identity for this protagonist; they are a “machine,” specifically a T500 Quantum Memory Device.

— Note: I am a bit unclear on the talk of Scepters here. I’m inclined to say the device is implied to be a Scepter, but the way things are worded is a bit weird, so it might not be one after all.

— “It is a life without love…” Although this is talking about the Candelagraphos, I do find the emotion of it interesting. In a way, it could also be applied to machines, to the stereotypes even in HSR’s present day that mechanical beings (like Intellitrons) are cold and unfeeling.

— The perspective warps when the memory device takes in its reflection: it becomes more distant. It’s not that it looks at itself and says “You are a square machine,” but rather that “You see a square machine,” almost as if having difficulty processing its identity as “not a person.”

— This is further supported by the “sudden realization” of identity, with one dialogue option even being to say it’s “A person that looks like a memory storage device.” If you pick that option, the Simulated Universe says it is incorrect.

— Either way, devoid of choice or free will, the machine is a machine, the “most powerful memory storage device to exist to date.” It can record all information on the planet.

— The setting for the first part is specified: The Candelographos research institute on Freya. Our protagonist has been sorting documents for ten years, before Xiaoya and her teacher ran away with it.

— “Your footsteps” is an intriguing phrase. It may be referring to the “group,” which includes Xiaoya and her teacher who are human, but the perspective means it could also be the device’s understanding of itself — still unwilling to believe it is purely a machine despite having no feet to walk on.

— Searching and running away are depicted as similar actions.

— Xiaoya and her teacher plan to bury T500 due to an ongoing hunt by the History Fictionologists; since the device can store all of the planet’s history, they want it to survive.

— “Plus, it’s the only one that exists.” Points to being “one-of-a-kind” (hehe, shop event reference!) and the uniqueness of a mechanical wonder or wonder of creation.

— “Having dug out a crater deeper than the height of a man.” Hmmmm. Makes me think some details are being talked around, so to speak. Footsteps, a human-height hole; despite the “smallness” of the original device, it almost seems as if it has some kind of human form now. It’s not explicitly mentioned, but the implications might just be there.

— Despite whatever dialogue you choose — “Bye” or “I don’t want to leave you” — they leave anyways. There is no choice in the matter, only fate, only inevitability. Once again, the protagonist is abandoned deep in the darkness, waiting and waiting and waiting for a reunion that will never come.

— Starting off in the dark again! (Although it is still a continuation of this “life”.)

— The memory device, spurred by a desire to understand a remark made in the last part, begins to pour over civilizational records, spending ten Amber Eras slowly learning the entire history of the planet, from stone tablets to the rise and fall of entire civilizations.

— Eventually, it reaches the names of Xiaoya and her teacher, realizing that they are long dead and only their names remain.

— “Humanity” and “civilization” are the answers to the question, and the device begins to harbor a deep compassion for them.

— (Note: “fools” is once again mentioned near the end.)

— Naïve excitement at the prospect of becoming known to the universe again.

Conclusions:

— The cycle starts anew: darkness, the illusion of choice, being abandoned. This time, it is advantageous, as the memory device is able to learn and develop compassion for humanity. (Perhaps this is where Sampo’s love for humanity comes from.)

— Due to the time spent underground, I feel like the next story, Resleeved, may be a continuation where the device is “found.” Or, it may be another cycle of life. There are no specific years or times given, so these events could be extremely far apart or incredibly close together. Who knows.

— I am not too familiar with the Scepters as a whole, but from what I can find on the wiki, the context seems to track as a chronological interpretation of MA!Sampo. (I’m still not sure about The Great Lie? Unless it is a prologue or takes place after Those Remembered in time.)

— Here, we see a device be “unboxed” during the time of the Scepters, then sealed deep underground to avoid destruction. As such, instead of being caught up in the conflicts of the time, it is given space to develop empathy, kindness, and enlightenment. I think it would be cool if Sampo is a Scepter (it would explain some of his powers and strange qualities), but the wording in the text is still unclear to me.

— Either way, there’s a large chunk of time where the device is able to sit and develop advanced awareness, much like in the “Ace Trash Digger” occurrence.

— Perhaps this is one of many “lives,” or just an advancing, singular consciousness that goes through a lot. It is also possible that these different events and stories could be simulated existences, things that are a part of Sampo yet aren’t. At the end of the day, my main point is that it’s all cyclical. (Even… Ouroboros in nature… (Sampo outfit and snake reference!))

— As for Rubert, I think this fits in as the “computer dumped in a trash pile” that became self-aware and, eventually, Rubert. Its memory storage very much matches the kind of intelligence that would interest Nous, although the “emotion” of everything doesn’t track. As far as what I’m interpreting, it seems the memory device grew fond for humanity — and by extension, organic life — committing itself to sharing the history of civilization with others. That doesn’t track with Rubert’s motive behind the Mechanical Emperor’s War; in fact, it almost seems to be the opposite. Still, I can’t ignore the thematic similarities. Maybe something happened along the way that drastically changed Rubert’s worldview.

.✦ ── ✦.

Resleeved

.✦ ── ✦.

“Resleeved” documents a thought-consciousness experiment carried out on an unknown participant wherein the subject is assimilated into different species’ biology. After being “broken” beyond repair due to the nature of the experiments, they are discarded, only to be met with yet another experiment — this time a transplant of Organic Heart — that also ends in failure. They presumably die after being shot through the chest.

— This is one of those exceptions where I don’t think the perspective is Sampo’s; instead, it seems to come from an outside storekeeper that has a conversation with (most likely) the doctor that carries out the experiments in Resleeved II and III.

— “… truth lies…” Cool way to include opposites in a grammatically correct sentence!

— “Fool” mention again. (This is getting to be a lot — I think this is the third time?)

— A scent compared to an “empty, lifeless ocean” is similar to darkness or the cold.

— Heavy themes of experimentation on a cosmic level.

— “How could there ever be truth born from foolishness?” Truth and fools once again.

— The idea of knowledge and wisdom being a “curse.”

— “An equivalent exchange cannot be reversed” also feels potentially pertinent to whatever Sampo has going on with Aha / the Elation.

— School of Evolutionary Perfection links to the perfectionism in The *Perfect* Grand Challenge.

— Generally, it seems that this doctor orchestrated a biological contamination outbreak that resulted in the conditions needed to have access to experimental patients.

— “127th awakening” implies a cyclical nature, potentially the ability to traverse different forms or lives.

— “A new character awaits every time you awake~” feels like it might be meant to represent Sampo’s situation — there are certainly many different situations at play in these stories, yet so many of them seem to carry the same cycle of darkness, experimentation, brokenness, and abandonment. These thematic elements would make sense if, similar to what this doctor is implying, Sampo has the ability to “reset” or occupy different lives in succession. In this way, the cycle would be inescapable, an ouroboros of tragedy he is forced to experience over and over no matter how many times he becomes someone “new.” (Also, this line is repeated several times, giving it some extra weight.)

— The experiment’s name is F0078. This could go back to the idea of Sampo having multiple names; it’s possible that, if Sampo isn’t one of the townspeople from part one, the memory device from Those Remembered was found by some… unsavory people.

— “Scholar, I am so cold” links to darkness and the cold.

— “I can take your thoughts from this experiment to use as the wick for the flames. Next time, I will be able to insert you into the Imperial Fragment.” I feel like this might shed some light on Sampo’s situation. There’s a good chance he personally hasn’t gone through all of these events himself, but rather remembers them as the result of thought combination or “copying.” Similar to the AetherTurbo Bookmark from his shop event, it gives the feeling of having done something without actually doing it. In truth, he might be an amalgamation of all these different perspectives having been used (or fused) into one, compact form.

— The next parts are blanked out, and I find this a little suspicious. It’s simulating the now-broken nature of the experiment — how they cannot process language properly anymore — but that also means we the reader do not get to see what “target species” they have turned into or what the results of the experiment were. If anything, this could be the cloning of Rubert, or even how Sampo got his humanoid form.

— “Endless silence” and darkness.

— “It is as if you have operated for ___ Amber Eras and been once again deleted by every ___.” Again, the blank spots are noticeable here. How many Amber Eras? If it’s ten, that would track with the “ten Amber Eras” the memory device spent processing in Those Remembered. “Once again deleted” could also refer to Rubert’s demise.

— Fortune versus tragedy — in the end, neither matter, because the ending is the same.

— “In the world of ___, emotions and judgments of value are merely absurd.” (The blank here could be Nous, or it could not.) This may also explain the difference between the “compassion” of the device in Those Remembered versus the emotional distance of Rubert and Rubert II. If, somehow, the memory device was the one cloned into Rubert II, then inheriting those memories may have been enough for a drastic emotional shift towards pure logic.

— (While it is possible this experiment is a townsperson, the cover art of Resleeved very much focuses on machinery being covered by an “organic” something, so I am leaning towards the memory device interpretation.)

— “Thought conduit ruptured” makes me think of the memory device too, as I don’t see the doctor wording it in this way if the subject was organic!

— “No longer fit for use” and “I suggest abandoning ___ and destroying all samples of this experimental batch if necessary” links to themes of abandonment, discarding, and brokenness. (Also, interesting how the name is blanked out. Wonder what it could be?)

— The mentions of time, space, and the strange limbo of shattered thought remind me of the Nihility, especially the “Liquid Flame in Void” Curio from the shop event talking about the abyss.

— Overall, in terms of Sampo, I see this as being one of the major experiments that turned him into who he is today; likely the “resleeving” of mechanical parts into an organic form. Whether this has anything to do with Rubert or not is up for interpretation. (Meaning, this “form” could have been how Rubert II inherited Rubert’s memories, or it could be a separate entity entirely.)

— The crying family and strange visitors that the protagonist doesn’t recognize could be the results of the experiment. If Sampo, potentially starting as the memory device, was combined with many different forms or consciousnesses, it’s possible the body he ended up with had a family — or even one of the merged consciousnesses could have one. This could explain why the family is there, but also why there’s no recognition to be had.

— However, “the little blood you have remaining still burns in your heart” feels more organic, but that could also be because he now has an organic form as a result of the experiments.

— Now that I think about it, Those Remembered’s memory device could have been Rubert, while Resleeved could have been a human or other townsperson being combined with said memory device, with the combination resulting in Sampo as Rubert II. 🤔

— “Death is my inevitable fate” seems very cycle-oriented to me, like no matter how many times a loop is repeated, it will always end the same.

— “My longing to survive still burns strong” may also point towards how, despite inevitability, Sampo will always try to keep going (i.e. rewards and costs and deals to survive).

— “A little cardiac burning is not sufficient to halt your progress towards evolutionary perfection” also points towards the mechanical merged with the organic, as if the subject was previously a machine (and one preoccupied with “perfection,” which tracks with Rubert) but now finds themself in an organic form with “cardiac burning” — i.e. a heart.

—The fangs and rust-scented claws could point towards a borisin? I’m not sure how many other intelligent creatures we’ve met would match that description.

— Organic Heart (beating fruit) baby let’s go!!!!!

— For those that don’t know, Organic Heart is a Curio that the mysterious blue-haired entity offers us in the Curio Hacker occurrence; I’ve talked about it in my Simulated Universe Analysis, but Organic Heart here is basically a direct link to Sampo for me! (Which is why I’m quite sure, regardless of any perspectives beforehand, that Resleeved II and III’s perspective is Sampo’s.)

— After having the heart transplanted, the protagonist begins to recover, eventually feeling “too strong.” Plus their blood literally begins to boil, ouch!

— At first, I thought the “Mock Crimson Moon” reference may imply the subject’s new body is borisin, or at least affected in similar ways, but Mock Crimson Moon is actually a Weighted Curio in Divergent Universe that causes enemies to receive Fire DoT “Necrosis” after being attacked by Abundance characters. Due to the subject’s fits of madness under the moon, it is very much still possible there’s some borisin biology going on, but it’s also possible that “Mock Crimson Moon”s specific reference could be due to the blood boiling or the Necrosis of being used in experiments. I’m not entirely sure where to draw the line, but these are my thoughts!

— When the experiment, once again, is concluded to be a failure, the figure from the beginning shoots the subject through the chest. Death is implied.

— I’m not sure what the reference to the Intelligentsia Guild means either, it feels somewhat vague.

— Resleeved (III) may be meant to show a one-off experiment that really did die, but it seems strange that Organic Heart is present given that Sampo’s Curio Hacker occurrence has it too.

— Plus, the allusions to perfection, experimentation, and the melding of mechanical and organic very much line up with some of my Sampo theories.

— Who knows, maybe this was just another perspective added to the consciousness mashup that is Sampo Koski?

Conclusions:

— Heavy themes of perfection, experimentation, and being discarded remind me of Sampo.

— Additionally, the cycle repeats again: darkness, misfortune, abandonment, breaking.

— Resleeved (I) seems to be from an outside perspective, while (II) and (III) are likely the same subject.

— The subject’s disorientation in Resleeved (III) seems to imply that whatever happened in (II) messed with their consciousness so bad they can’t remember the people in the room with them — this may be because of the resulting thought combination between species.

— Many details are omitted at the end of (II), which may imply a connection with the memory device (potentially Rubert) from Those Remembered.

— If the subject really did die at the end of (III), in order for them to continue into the rest of Mundanite Assembly’s parts, they either didn’t really die, started another “cycle” or life, or were assimilated into the growing amalgamation of consciousness that is Sampo Koski.

— I also did want to note that Resleeved very much reminds me of the mythological Sampo, especially pertaining to creation, abandonment, and breaking.

.✦ ── ✦.

Dousing Flames

.✦ ── ✦.

In “Dousing Flames,” Scholar Cholkov and our protagonist are in proximity to the Perpetual Motion Project, which takes place during the Interstellar Energy War and, despite having promise on the outset, is eventually destroyed because it can’t keep up with the costs.

— The setting is Pier Point’s technological research and development department.

— “Research into the possibility of infinite energy sources” reminds me of quantum energy and the Ship of Fools occurrence, where the “broken mask” is mentioned to have made the Kuvida Nebula a dead zone after offering a solution for its energy problem.

— “Honesty just so happens to be a prerequisite for truth” reminds me a lot of the way Sampo handles truth and lies.

— “Another boring line that makes you yearn for sleep,” a little bit Elation-aligned.

— The perspective is of an engineer, specifically one that has made “innovations in the area of material engineering,” even developing a product based on an ultra nanocloth they invented. Someone selling products… sounds familiar.

— Also, the original purpose of the nanocloth was for advertisement printing, specifically to plaster billboards in the sky so people could look up to see them. Also sounds… very familiar……

— However, the product was never truly produced because the higher-ups said, and I quote, “The costs outweigh the benefits.” This may be where Sampo began to become preoccupied with risk and reward, cost and benefit. The sentiment very much mirrors his own in that regard.

— “Permanently solving an energy crisis” again reminds me of “Kuvida’s energy.”

— “It’s time to go to the canteen and recharge” is a specific combination of mechanical and organic, much like the previous experiments in Resleeved. “Canteen” implies drinking (something we know Sampo likes to do), an organic activity, while “recharge” is generally associated more with mechanical devices and electricity.

— The only thing is: I’m not sure how he got from point A (the end of Resleeved, being shot) and point B (here in Dousing Flames, working as an engineer). Perhaps that isn’t something we’re supposed to know yet, though, since all six of these Mundanite Assembly “chapters” are simply small blips in a potentially very long state of consciousness.

— The first paragraph is extremely Nihility-aligned, even reminding me directly of the Horizon of Existence with its monochrome color scheme, infinite expanse, and “boundary line.”

— Despite being clarified as the Technology Department’s “Perpetual Motion Project,” the resemblance is uncanny.

— A Scepter is mentioned, meaning these events are still taking place around when they would be active.

— “But, there shall come a day when the stars will be extinguished.” Very ominous and Finality-aligned!

— The Interstellar Energy War is mentioned, also placing it in proximity to Rubert; according to the wiki, this seems to be around the time right after Rubert’s death.

— You have two dialogue options here, either to express optimism or pessimism for the future of the technology. Notably, the pessimism option heavily features how the Intelligentsia Guild is only focused on profit, as most ideas are ruled “garbage inventions” and likely discarded.

— Already, we have themes of experimentation, abandonment, and, interestingly enough, profit thrown into the mix as well.

— Eventually, the Perpetual Motion Project is declared a failure, and the formerly constructed sails are destroyed since the plan wasn’t worth the costs.

— In this case, the protagonist is the one destroying the sails, although one dialogue option reads “They forced me.”

— In the end, Scholar Cholkov passes away, and the protagonist leaves a flower wrapped in their ultra nanocloth invention in front of his grave.

— Notably, both our perspective “you” and Cholkov are described to have grey hair and wrinkled faces, meaning they’ve both aged considerably. I’m not sure what to make of this; it’s possible that if Sampo is subject to repeating or resetting “life cycles,” then this would be just another one nearing its end, ready to start anew. However, other options are that this is simply another consciousness in the “soup,” a different perspective entirely, or a metaphor meant to show a similar cycle as it happens to a different individual.

— Either way, the focus on profit and “costs versus benefit” is not lost on me!

Conclusions:

— I really want to say I see connections to MA!Sampo here (especially since it takes place during the Interstellar Energy War and ties to him have been present in so many other parts of MA), but it really is possible that this is an entirely different perspective.

— There is, however, still quite a running theme of abandonment, destruction, and even some Nihility in here.

— If this does have something to do with Sampo, I can see his emphasis on profit and risk forming during this time!

— Overall, I don’t see any huge implications for his backstory, other than a potential reference to the “energy” mentioned in relation to the Kuvida Nebula in Ship of Fools.

.✦ ── ✦.

Printed Truths

.✦ ── ✦.

“Printed Truths” introduces the idea of a “printing” project, wherein individuals are copied or cloned into identical forms. When issues of Path power arise, a scholar sets out to find an Emanator to (assumedly) copy. Later, a thief eats a synthetic Curio apple and is sentenced to death. The school that housed the original project moves into a new era of working with the Council of Mundanites (or an association of bright minds).

— Printed Truths (I) is another exception where I feel the perspective is not directly related to Sampo; instead, it seems to come from an outside committee of scholars discussing (more like arguing) over a “printing” project.

— Essentially, this project is meant to “copy” the Path power and memories of specific individuals through cell printing. Most of this text is discussion over how Path powers may (or may not) carry over, mainly attempting to figure out how to get them to match up as they need to.

— Several solutions are proposed as to why this certain copy doesn’t have Path power, like “because the original is still present,” “the problem lies in their memories,” and “perhaps you need to deceive the Aeon.”

— This leads to talk of eliminating “the original,” getting the Garden of Recollection’s help, and even working with The Riddlers. (Keep in mind The Riddlers for later.)

— (Also, note: If I remember correctly, the original Rubert’s death has some mystery surrounding it, as there are a few different ideas as to what happened. Since this grey area seems to be present, perhaps these scholars really did find a way to “eliminate the original.” Just speculation!)

— Eventually, the project is terminated, but not without the scholar in charge of it having an epiphany and realizing she needs to find an Emanator (potentially to copy).

— This scholar does disappear at the end, leading me to wonder if she really did go on a search for that Emanator — perhaps she also found one, and perhaps Sampo is the resulting copy? (Since Rubert was part of the Genius Society, I would also assume he might have been an Emanator as well. 👀)

— This is for sure a Sampo perspective if there ever was one. With how Printed Truths (I) ended, I am tempted to say this might be him as a copy of someone else (likely an Emanator, potentially Rubert). Also, this is a bit of a crack theory, but I do find it really funny that Aha Themself might’ve let Themself be copied.

— Our protagonist is a thief breaking into the farm of a wealthy resident.

— “Bringing the moonlight with you” reminds me of the moon in Resleeved (III).

— Interestingly, fruit is present here, with the thief attempting to steal it and being forced to kill the old man holding it before the old man could fire his gun. The thief then eats it.

— Apparently, this fruit was a synthetic Curio, and when the thief is arrested, the court eventually decides to kill them because of all the research they destroyed in the process of eating it.

— The only way out would’ve been to prove some legitimate change occurred after ingesting the fruit, but the dialogue offers no such option.

— “My digestive system has run smoothly” reminds me of a machine “running” or “processing.”

— It also reminds me of Sampo mentioning how to complain about your dinner in the shop event, as “complaining” about the apple may have saved the thief’s life in this instance by producing worthwhile information.

— “… comically murdered by you.” Elation is beginning to seep in to these stories more and more.

— The time is implied to be around the Scholars’ Strife.

— The thief is then shot through the head, and synthetic Curio technology remains unavailable. I find this interesting because in Sampo’s pop-up event, we are literally helping him create synthetic Curios. A little irony, if you will.

— My main confusion is that, although the thief is not explicitly said to have died, getting shot in the head with a bullet sure implies it. Once again, I’m not sure how Point A connects to Point B. This has Sampo written all over it, yet the thief still dies at the end. The only explanation is that either Sampo has a way of coming back to life, “resetting,” or something similar.

— Or, perhaps since Organic Heart has been involved in all of these experiments (like in Resleeved and this section of Printed Truths), if it somehow found its way to Sampo maybe he got the memories of everyone involved. Just an idea!

— In this section, a young scholar named Chrystella attempts to get older scholars to listen to her thoughts on age, passion, knowledge, and “research pragmatism.”

— These dialogue options stick out to me: “The mysteries of infinite space-time?” “True ultimate intelligence?” “The engine of a perfect society?” I don’t have many deep thoughts, but I just wanted to point these out.

— She also mentions how the scholars once “chased Arblad out,” which means this is the same setting as Printed Truths (I) but at a later time. Presumably, the chronology goes in sequence: (I) shows Arblad discussing the printing project, (II) likely shows a resulting creation disrupting the Curio process, and (III) shows the School of Pure Creation moving into a “new era.”

— “Perhaps we do not need to completely drain this school of its blood. Maybe we just need a little transfusion.” Reminds me of Resleeved’s experiments, especially (III) when it specifically mentions blood. Might be a mirror to what happened in those experiments, “transfusion” of consciousness rather than complete draining, or maybe it’s nothing.

— The Council of Mundanites is also mentioned by name, which also links to the name of the entire Unknowable Domain section “Mundanite Assembly.” Essentially, the Council, and especially the name of Mundanite Assembly, is likely meant to convey the converging of the brightest minds in the Guild. On a larger scale, perhaps all six of these “chapters” are meant to represent the wonders of creation that occurred during this time period, complete with Rubert, the Scepters, and whatever or whoever Sampo ends up being.

Conclusions:

— Printed Truths (I) and (III) are likely outside perspectives of scholars in the School of Pure Creation, relating specifically to events surrounding “copying,” cell printing, and the creation of individuals who share the same physiological functions. I believe Printed Truths (II) to be the perspective of a resulting creation, perhaps the copy of an Emanator or even Aeon Arblad was able to make after she left in Printed Truths (I). With this perspective explicitly being a thief, as well as the “comical” aspects of the situation, I believe this perspective to be related to Sampo if not Sampo himself.

— The only thing that doesn’t make sense is the death at the end of Printed Truths (II), but I suppose that could be explained by Path, Emanator, or otherwise experimental power. It could also be explained by Organic Heart, which may have memory-storing or transferring properties.

— Printed Truths (II) also takes place at night (darkness), and through a series of ironic misfortunes leads to death or otherwise “breaking.”

— I am not sure how this all stacks up to the Sampo we know today, but I do think the similarities are there. (Again, large gaps of time and all.)

.✦ ── ✦.

Windup World

.✦ ── ✦.

“Windup World” chronicles a butterfly effect death that occurs during an attempt at revenge, where the protagonist is burned alive while watching and waiting to see what happens to their nemesis, then into a “paradox” of code during an experiment where a Scepter tries to predict the end of a miniature civilization. Eventually, a Masked Fool at the Tavern uses our protagonist for an “opening act,” making them divine their future as a wooden puppet in the palm of the Fool’s hand, then eventually “kill” themself in front of a live audience.

— This is where we get a bit “red-string-board”y, so buckle up!

— This is another perspective I see as being Sampo, and here is where I think things start to come together.

— First, my thesis: Despite all the deaths that occur throughout Mundanite Assembly, I believe the protagonist (Sampo, in this case), has memories of Resleeved, which causes him to enact revenge on the doctor who subjected him (or who he remembers to be him) to those experiments.

— This revenge could, in all actuality, be towards someone else or a random different plot point, but this is what I feel connects Mundanite Assembly’s different parts the best.

— As for the story itself, it details the protagonist approaching an old scholar (potentially one we’ve seen in another part) and asking for help with revenge.

— The old scholar refers to himself as a “relic of a past generation,” which implies he might be the older scholar from Dousing Flames (III) — in this case, Dousing Flames may not be Sampo’s perspective at all, but rather the one of the scholar he eventually comes to for revenge. Just speculation!

— However, the man is also implied to be… more than human, in a way? The butterfly effect is heavily referenced here (as it has stood in the background for most of these stories), and the man seems to know exactly what to do to help our protagonist start the fire that eventually engulfs both them and the target.

— “Expanding and contracting, taking in a releasing, like the wings of a butterfly or the spinning of a loom.” This doesn’t seem very “normal” to me, so it’s possible this old man is a special case or even someone with Path or Emanator power.

— “With faith, the removal of a single nail can topple an entire empire.” Very big implications, perhaps speaking from experience? I feel like it’s referencing Rubert’s empire, but not exactly from the perspective of Rubert himself.

— A crow is nestled on the windowsill; reminds me of the bird from Everlasting Hatred.

— “A perfect assassination” occurs, and through the butterfly effect the protagonist’s nemesis is burned alive, though not before the flames reach the protagonist and burn them alive too.

— Again, death occurs, but it still feels very… Sampo to me? So much of his character revolves around hidden hatred, betrayal, and implications of revenge that it seems strange to me that, if Sampo is involved in MA, this wouldn’t be at least tangentially related to him. Perhaps the old man really was him instead? Or again, if he can “reset,” perhaps he is just moving onto his next “life.”

— Once again with inevitability, as no matter what you do or what you choose, it all leads back to the butterfly effect, back to the flames and death.

— Interestingly enough, the “Cloud of Doubt” Clown’s Item shows a door burning, similar to the protagonist burning alive here.

— It also seems to say something about how this protagonist went so far to achieve revenge that it destroyed them too, much like Icarus flying too close to the sun.

— If this isn’t Sampo, I feel like it is at least a warning he should heed in the future.

— This part deals mainly with “predicting” the end of a miniature civilization (Sandpit Civilization 013) with the help of a Scepter.

— “You think that this so-called legacy is enough to filter clarity from chaos?” What is the legacy here? It reminds me a bit of “Rubert’s Legacy” that Rubert II inherited.

— “The trigger of this great war is the death of a governor’s concubine in the Second Empire, who drinks poison. The war ends 17 years later as it is proven that her cup was never poisoned. The source of the poisoning was a copper label that was inside the barrel that dyed the entire barrel’s content jade green.”

— This is a particularly notable quote because the dialogue options are either, “What an absurd story” or “It’s like looking in a mirror.” Assuming that our perspective here may yet again be Sampo (or someone directly related), we now know that something about this story is connected. In the protagonist’s eyes, this “fake poisoning” due to misdirection — or rather, false assumptions made based on appearance — is relatable to their own situation.

— For Sampo, I wonder if this means he has been mistaken for someone horrible before, despite the fact it’s all on the surface. Appearance-wise, this could be because he shares an appearance with Rubert or even Aha Themself, leading people to assume the worst of him despite the fact the majority of what he shares is in harmless appearance (or what he perceives to be so).

— It is also possible that this is meant to imply certain conflicts or wars were not always what they seemed, and who may have been deemed the “bad guy” may have only been based on false assumptions.

— Additionally, when the protagonist specifically attempts to use the Scepter to predict the future of Civilization 013, it malfunctions and extrapolates out into a “mess of code” that, if deciphered, would cause a “paradoxical loop.” Again, hear me out, but what if our protagonist (Sampo) is meant to be referenced by this code and “paradoxical loop.”

— I’m starting to think that maybe, as a result of the cloning process or something similar, he created a paradox within the universe simply by existing, causing him to loop over and over (potentially like Resleeved’s experiments, the thief’s death, and the “revenge” death). This could also explain the thematic commonalities of misfortune, butterfly effect, and breaking — no matter what he does, the paradox is inevitable.

— Things also go back to normal when the other person present, Prados, intervenes. Although he does things a bit differently and the gist is that there is some interference with the Scepter itself, it still interests me that the “paradox” exists for our protagonist only.

— “This is editing” also implies messing with the base function of the device itself. (A bit similar to “printing,” might I add.)

— The “answer” is also implied to be linked to Terminus, and yeah, I haven’t mentioned it much yet but the Finality is definitely at play throughout all these stories. It makes me wonder how it works into everything.

— The edited version is published, and Civilization 014 begins.

— I do want to note the numbers here; they could mean nothing, but it also makes me think of “loops.” Leaving out The Great Lie as a potential prologue, there are thirteen stories from Those Remembered (I) to Windup World (I). Windup World (III) is number fourteen. Again, it could be nothing, but it just makes me think of cycles, and stories, and how the paradox of 013 is ignored in favor of marching straight on to 014. Just something to think about!

— Finally, we have reached the main course! If I had to pick only one story I thought was directly from Sampo’s perspective, it would be Windup World (III) without a shadow of a doubt. Actually, when viewing it through the lens of MA!Sampo, it ties up things quite nicely (at least for Star Rail, who loves being cryptic).

— Generally, here is what I’m picking up: Masked Fools, World’s End Tavern specifically, potentially Sampo’s first time at the Tavern, being puppeted around for a joke, death and “breaking,” divination and predicting the future.

— We start off in what can reasonably be assumed as the World’s End Tavern, watching a Masked Fool introduce a new comedy. Given the “confusing and bewildering” qualities of their voice, as well as the confusion expressed by our protagonist throughout this section, I also believe it may be their first time here.

— The Fool also mentions they have retrieved “a lost period of The Riddlers’ history and edited it into a miniature comedy” for the Tavern’s entertainment. I find this intriguing because The Riddlers have been mentioned all throughout MA, especially in Those Remembered when the memory device was hidden from History Fictionologists.

— Additionally, Printed Truths (I) sees the team wonder about working with The Riddlers on the cell printing project; I wonder if that part actually ended up happening.

— “Lost period” of history also catches me, because it again reminds me of how the memory device and potential resulting copies seem to be left behind, discarded, or lost for large periods of time. “Edited” also goes back to the idea of cell editing and prediction editing.

— It almost makes me think Sampo is meant to be the subject of this; that, despite being the opening act, the comedy was always implicating him in a way. He was always the main attraction. Or, perhaps, he was simply meant to “open” for it in the way that period of time blossomed into its own “butterfly effect” of tangentially-related events like the rise of Nanook far beyond the original war.

— Dialogue options: “I want to glimpse the foul deeds to the Gods,” “I wish to admire the folly of a genius,” “I wish to taste the rage of an actor.” All of this seems to be present throughout MA, and I feel like it relies on general themes — wonders and unnatural experiments, genius taken too far, projects created and fought over and discarded, revenge and rage from hurt parties.

— (It is possible that when the masked man says, “your requests shall be no challenge,” the resulting actions are simply meant to be just that: a recreation of the general themes of Mundanite Assembly’s timeline. However, I feel things are rarely that simple with Star Rail, and much of the specific wording and implications of this scene are… a lot for Sampo, so I think it may be a double-meaning kind of situation. As Sampo loves to so often do, there’s a good chance that this scene is meant to be symbolic of something he maybe doesn’t even know about himself.)

— A beam of light puts him in the spotlight; the main attraction, if you will.

— “Shocked, you realize that you have been transformed into a wooden puppet in the palm of his hands.” Links to Sparkle’s light cone where Sampo is a puppet, as well as all of *gestures vaguely* everything Sampo has going on with Doll Theory. Simply put, he has many implications of lack of agency and being “puppeted” around, so this situation makes a lot of sense in that regard.

— “You are a scholar who firmly believes that the future is a code that can be calculated.” Beyond the general ties to the MA time period’s obsession with knowledge, this also connects to Curio Hacker and the pop-up shop’s day seven Curio with code in the background. This line may also be alluding to Sampo as someone who is or used to be someone with a similar mindset.

— “Why can it not be a drink glass or a star chart?” The drink glass is notable due to Sampo’s habit of liking to drink.

— The protagonist then goes from a “scholar” to a “babbling, eccentric diviner,” and the Fool mentions how it’s a little “heavy-handed” but better than that “old pedant.” Could be nothing, or heavy-handed could be a double reference to Sampo’s identity and old pedant could be a reference to Rubert or the other, specific scholars we’ve seen. In fact, it could even be a way of saying Sampo, as a copy or clone, may be “better” or more “fun” than the original.

— Here comes the big part.

— “Divine your own future,” the Fool says.

— In the context of the “joke,” this could be a shallow pretension, but it could also be an order. If this Fool possesses Aeonic, Emanator, or even Path power, they may have the ability to genuinely have someone see into their own future. Everything from here on out could, conceivably, be Sampo genuinely predicting his future.

— So, what is divined? Death, as always. The star chart says the protagonist will die in the Tavern in one minute, by their own hand.

— The Fool asks what our protagonist will do. The dialogue options are: “I will take my own life,” “I have to take my own life,” or “Why don’t I get a choice?”

— “You,” apparently, have been drawn into the trap of Finality. After strangling themself and exploding into a colorful burst of stars in front of everyone, the protagonist returns to their seat, unharmed.

— “Though a healer can heal themselves, a diviner cannot tell their own future. If our universe is but a great diviner, once they glance their own destiny, would they not simply end their own lives?”

— The Fool then introduces “The Decline of Quantum History.”

— Man, that’s a lot! In terms of Sampo, if we are interpreting this as a potential, true divination of his own future, here is what I think this is saying: he is trapped in a cyclical loop — or “paradox” — of misfortune, death, and “breaking.” He does not have a choice in this. Despite, for the first time in MA, actually asking in awareness, “Why don’t I have a choice?” there is still no choice to be had. He hurts himself, simply by means of existing. It is visceral, and inescapable. He may have the ability to “reset” or “heal,” but telling his own future is a different ballpark, and knowing — truly knowing — the extent of his repeating fate would cause nothing but depression and despair. His end will likely happen due to his own “butterfly effect” decisions.

— It is also possible that, if Sampo really has nothing to do with this, he is instead the Masked Fool playing the joke, although there is no way to know for sure.

— I am still leaning towards our perspective as Sampo, though, if not just because of the being turned into a literal wooden puppet.

— Perhaps this puppet is itself a symbol of prophecy, as Doll!Sampo could still be a very real thing in the (potentially large) time gap between Windup World (III) and present day. In that case, Sampo being turned into a doll (or doll equivalent) by Aha could be similar to him being “stolen” or even “reset.”

— Overall, yeah, there’s a lot to be had here! Also, I just want to say how fucked up that joke was. It makes me think Sampo’s view of treating everyone with dignity and looking sideways at the Fools may have to do with this event, or something close to it. After all, if he was used for a joke like this — literally made to kill himself (approximately) for the entertainment of others — I feel that would shift his views quite a bit. (Though, we still don’t know how he felt after: Traumatized? Angry? Elated? Free? Maybe all at once. Sure makes for a compelling soup of emotions to convince him to keep coming back to the Tavern.)

Conclusions:

— Windup World (III) may be Sampo’s first time at the Tavern, being puppeted around for a joke having, potentially, to do with his identity or previous identities intertwined with the events of Mundanite Assembly as a whole.

— The “joke” itself may even have a double, prophetic meaning for a cycle he finds himself trapped in or actions he will take in the future, such as being treated as a toy or dying by his own hand.

.✦ ── ✦.

Extra

.✦ ── ✦.

— “Pusuit’s End” is what you get after completing all of Mundanite Asembly. It’s a key, and can be used to increase heat in the Workbench of Creation. Personally, I think it could refer to several different things (like Polka Kakamond or other members of the Intelligentsia Guild / Erudition), but if we’re talking about what’s most relevant to MA, I have a feeling it could reference Arblad’s “printing” experiment.

— “The infinite layers of nutshells encase the ruler of the universe, yet even so, she continues to turn the key, opening the next door indefinitely.” This sounds similar to Arblad’s determination to copy Path power in Printed Truths (I). “Pursuit’s End” may hint at her finding a way to achieve what she wanted, and increasing the heat at the Workbench of Creation could further strengthen the connection between this item and “creation.”

— In the case of Arblad, Sampo might have been this “creation” that finally achieved what she wanted — or, simply one in a long line of attempts.

— “Imperfect Scholar” is the achievement you get for completing Mundanite Assembly. I think it moreso deals with the general themes of the era, but “imperfect” also reminds me of The *Perfect* Grand Challenge’s focus on perfection!

— Just wanted to make a note of this!

.✦ ── ✦.

Conclusion

.✦ ── ✦.

Overall, what do I take away from all this?

— Perspective. I believe, at the least, Windup World (III) is from Sampo’s perspective. If we’re going with a “copying” or printing theory beyond that, I would say Those Remembered, Resleeved (II) and (III), Printed Truths (II), and Windup World (I) are his perspective. This would account for the memory device’s (potentially Rubert, an Emanator Sampo could have been copied from) experiences, as well as the experiments with species changing and Organic Heart’s transplantation, the thief’s consumption of (assumedly) Organic Heart and their eventual death, and the butterfly effect “revenge” death of being burned alive. Windup World (III) would bring things together into a more present-day situation, where Sampo may or may not have these spliced memories.

— I am also inclined to believe Windup World (II) could be his perspective because of the paradox code.

— This means The Great Lie (which I am still not 100% sure on), Resleeved (I), Dousing Flames, and Printed Truths (I) and (III) are outside, non-Sampo-related perspectives taking place as context for the events of the experiments going on at the time. Arblad especially is notable, since she presumably left to find an Emanator to copy.

— Timeline. If we are going with the most robust theory for MA!Sampo, I would say that he, in this form now, was created in between Printed Truths (I) and (II) when Arblad likely found someone to copy. If this someone was Rubert, then Sampo — again, Printed Truths (II) — would have the memories of Those Remembered and Resleeved (II) and (III). Going forward, he would die after eating the apple, but, perhaps due to some kind of paradoxical existence, find himself back in the loop of consciousness for Windup World (I). He would be burned alive, then returned for either Windup World (II) or Windup World (III), depending on how much (II) might actually apply to him. Then, Windup World (III) would be his first time at the Tavern. In the time after, he likely became more familiar with the Fools, leaving room for Elation-centered events like gaining his mask, becoming an Emanator, or even potentially being turned into or treated as a doll by Aha.

— Themes. Generally, MA sets up Sampo with a horribly tragic cycle of mistreatment. Abandonment, loneliness, hopelessness, darkness, dehumanization, death, and “breaking.” It’s all there. The worst part is he can’t even seem to escape it, much less understand it. The butterfly effect prevents him from finding a different path to take, inevitability chains him down, and the loop of it all makes sure it happens over and over and over again. No wonder that Fool remarks how the universe would kill itself if it knew its own future. If MA!Sampo, Printed!Sampo, or Rubert!Sampo (RubertII!Sampo? RII!Sampo? R.II!Sampo? What’s a good name for this? LOL.) ends up being true, then his story is incredibly bleak. His future is incredibly bleak. Perhaps that’s why he’s with the Elation — potentially with Aha Themself. He just wants to find a way out.

— Thanks for reading this far, I hope this made more sense than my Pop-Up Shop Analysis (I felt like I had a clearer head writing this)! Hopefully it’s also been able to put some things in perspective. I’m not completely sold on this (or any) theory because of how much wiggle room there is, but I feel like it could at least be a solid one to add to the more popular theories! Anyways, I’ll leave you with some key questions to think about!

.✦ ── ✦.

Key Questions

.✦ ── ✦.

— Who is Sampo? Is he a cell printed copy of an Emanator or Aeon (potentially Rubert or Aha)? Is he a mesh of mechanical and organic creation, doomed to repeat loops of misfortune due to the paradox of his existence? Is he an experiment gone wrong?

— How does Sampo’s “consciousness” work? Has he inherited the memories of past experiments or copies? Does he have partial or full amnesia?

— Which parts of Mundanite Assembly might be memories Sampo has? Those Remembered? Resleeved (II) and (III)? Printed Truths (II)? Windup World? If so, which might be memories simply “copied” over, and which are memories he himself has experienced?

— Are the Masked Fools helping or hurting him? (Or, perhaps both?) Are they helping him free himself and release the bottled up despair of being trapped in a horrible loop? Or are they leading him further into a cycle of self-harm that can only end horribly?

— What might have happened “in between gaps” of time, especially after Windup World (III)? Was he noticed by Aha afterwards? Has he since become a “doll,” or even been stolen?

— How does the Finality play into things? It’s mentioned quite a bit in MA, but how does it slot in with the Erudition, Elation, or even Sampo’s specific situation?

— thanks for reading to the end !! :)

— an extra meme i couldn’t fit in this post!

© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[ririya-translates]

JJ Lyrics Part 1: Jack & Jeanne of Quartz

I've been asked by a few people about an English version of the opening theme since Ion doesn't give lyrics for it in-game. I do not trust myself to have the lyrical ability to translate it well rhythmically, but I've been thinking that perhaps if I put out a gist of the meaning then perhaps someone more musically inclined can work off of that to turn it into something usable. At the very least, I hope it's helpful to give a bit more context. I'll include the original lyrics as well for those who want to compare side by side. For all of these (assuming I get to more) I'll be using the full song version lyrics from the vocal collection. Translation notes are in brackets. Sorry the spacing is weird because Tumblr's formatting is honestly kinda garbage and won't let me change much.

Can listen along to the full version song on Youtube here. I also got the full character colour-coded lyrics here. Note: The lyrics in this game are quite dense with nuances and references so if there's any I seem to have missed, please do let me know! Please consider these simply rough drafts to get the gist of the full lyrics as I just did this in one sitting. Normally I check over things a few times before posting, but I kinda did this on a whim. Things like pronouns and prepositions are very much context-dependent here so a fair bit can be changed depending on interpretation. If there are clear mistakes, please let me know and I'll edit it.

Kai: こころにひそむ無色の願い

Suzu: かたちに出来ずうつむく

Colourless wishes hidden deep within one’s heart/

Unable to take form, looking downwards

(The word for colourless is often used in reference to Quartz particularly since they are the inexperienced class who have yet to develop their unique “colours” yet)

Kisa/Mitsuki: いつか見ていた夢のつづき

Neji: どこまで行けるか？

Kisa/Sou: たしかめようその器を

Fumi: からだ賭けて

Keeping alive that dream you once saw/

How far can you go for it?/

Let’s give it a shot with this vessel/

Risking our bodies on it

(Since it’s a group number I’m just assuming bodies here to be plural)

LIs: この胸で躍る

Kisa: 眼差しがとらえる

LIs: 可能性のリズム

Kisa: クォーツのペンデュラム

LIs: 踊れよジャック

Kisa: 映すポテンシャル

All: まだ行ける？

This dancing in our chests/

Capturing a glimpse/

The rhythm of possibility/

Pendulum of Quartz/

Dance, Jacks!/

Reflective potential/

Can you keep going?

(In these alternating LI/Kisa sections, assume that they are singing both sets of lines simultaneously, but whoever is listed first in the section is the more prominent one)

Kisa: さあ乙女たちも

LIs: 僕らを導く

Kisa: いま立ち上がる

LIs: クリスタルのパス

Kisa: 歌えよジャンヌ

LIs: 歩む未踏の地

All: まだ行ける？

And to all you girls too/

Guide us (masc)/

Stand up right now/

Path of crystal/

Sing, Jeannes!/ Walk the untread land/

Can you keep going?

(Not entirely sure about the meaning of パス here since it can be read as ‘path’ or ‘pass’ and it isn’t fully clear)

Fumi/Kai: からだに巣食ううつろな渇き

Kai/Neji: 満たせるものは

Neji: 自分だけ

This gnawing emptiness lodged in your body/

Can be filled by/

Only you yourself

Kisa/Sou: きみと見ていた淡い夢は

Neji: あえかに咲く花

Kisa/Suzu: うつくしいもの守れるなら

Fumi/Mitsuki: こころ捧ぐ

This faded dream I saw with you/

Fleeting flowers in bloom/

If it can protect these things of beauty/

We’ll devote our hearts to it

(The kanji for ‘fade’ here matches the kanji used in the song Faded Color, but the kanji for flower is different from the stage flower/vessel usage)

LIs: この願いだけが

Kisa: チャコールナイトグレー

LIs: くらやみ照らす

Kisa: クォーツのライトで

LIs: しるべのランプ

Kisa: 未来さえ照らして

All: まだ行ける

With this wish alone/

Charcoal grey/

Illuminating the darkness/

Through the light of Quartz/

The guidepost lamp/

Light us even into the future/

We can keep going

(Guidepost しるべ is similar although not exactly the same as 道しるべ used in the title of the moon novel)

Kisa: ただ終われない

LIs: はるかなビジョンは

Kisa: そう、想うだけじゃ

LIs: ロマンの見取り図

Kisa: 一度きりの幕

LIs: 二度は描けない

All: まだ行ける

It cannot simply end/

A far away vision/

Yes, this can’t be just an idea/

Outline for a tale/

Just once behind that curtain/

Never to be written twice/

We can keep going

Kisa: ときに迷おうとも

さきが見えずとも

Sou: 残した足跡　

Kisa/Neji/Sou: 信じて

Suzu: 遠回りしても

Kisa: ただ

Suzu: 足がもつれても

Kisa: 歩き続ける

Kisa/Mistuki: ことを

Even if you’re sometimes lost/

When you can’t see the way ahead/

The footprints left behind/

Trust in them/

Even if you go in circles/

Can only/

Even if you trip over your feet/

Keep walking forward/

This is the thing

(ことを at the end of the sentence is rather hard to translate into English since it’s so context-dependent so by all means feel free to find a better iteration of that last line)

Kai: ただただ重ねて　

Kisa: 人はみな育つ

Neji: まだまだ行けるさ

Mistuki: けして手放すな

Kisa: 今にも

Fumi: 原石が

Kisa: 光り

Suzu/Sou: かがやく

Just keeps building, building up/

All people grow up/

We keep going, going/

Never letting go/

On the verge of/

This rough gem’s/

Light/

Shining

(Tried to keep some of the word duplication but it can definitely be done better. The word for rough/unpolished gem/ore is akin to ‘diamond in the rough’ in English and is again used a lot in reference to Quartz being inexperienced but with great potential value)

(This part repeats the first LI/Kisa sections)

LIs: この胸で躍る

Kisa: 眼差しがとらえる

LIs: 可能性のリズム

Kisa: クォーツのペンデュラム

LIs: 踊れよジャック

Kisa: 映すポテンシャル

All: まだ行ける？

This dancing in our chests/

Capturing a glimpse/

The rhythm of possibility/

Pendulum of Quartz/

Dance, Jacks!/

Reflective potential/

Can you keep going?

Kisa: さあ乙女たちも

LIs: 僕らを導く

Kisa: いま立ち上がる

LIs: クリスタルのパス

Kisa: 歌えよジャンヌ

LIs: 歩む未踏の地

All: さあ行こう！ Oh

And to all you girls too/

Guide us (masc)/

Stand up right now/

Path of crystal/

Sing, Jeannes!/ Walk the untread land/

Well, let’s go! Oh!

—

Overall thoughts: I’m sure people can draw their own interpretations from this but you can see it’s a song about dreams and the hard-fought battles in pursuing said dreams with lots of Quartz-related phrasing. Quite interesting as well how Kisa is sometimes mixed in with various LI characters and sometimes singing in contrast to them.

I would recommend for those who haven’t read it to also check out the first chapter of the moon novel (translation here) as it emphasizes Kisa grappling between her dreams and her reality. 

Also I would like to plug this cover version by Saki Hazuki singing this song with both male and female parts which feels very Jack Jeanne.

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Nine - After you confess you hope your boyfriend cheats on you, your lips find themselves a bit too close to Miguel's. Ch 10

“I hope he sleeps with Kasey.” The words come tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them, and the look on Miguel’s face would almost make you laugh if you didn’t feel so terrible about what you just admitted.

“Y/N, what?” Miguel asks, dumbfounded, blinking rapidly at you.

“I hope he sleeps with her, then I’d have a legitimate reason to break up with him.” You explain, hoping it makes you sound less insane.

You’ve thought about this a lot, almost getting excited when he goes out with his friends, secretly wishing he’d call you drunk and confess so you could make a big scene, dump him, and move on. No one would blame you; no one would say you made up reasons not to like him, the cheating would be reason enough.

“Mi dulce, any reason is legitimate, if you’re not happy, you need to do what’s best for you.” Miguel says.

And you know he’s right, but you still can’t accept it, can’t put it into motion because for all the times you hated Todd there were times when you loved him.

“I know, but it would be so much easier if he just cheated.” You ball up your burger wrapper and tuck it in the bag you both were using for trash. “Maybe I should just cheat, then I can say I had to end it with him out of remorse.”

Miguel turns his head, putting his milkshake next to yours in the cupholder, his pupils blown wide, attempting to take in as much light as possible. “It would technically be easier.”

“But I really don’t want to be a cheater or at least not an active one, it feels worse to go into it with the intention of cheating.”

Your brain unhelpfully supplies you with memories of your dream, of Miguel on his knees, between your legs, begging you to come for him. You look at Miguel, he’s still in his work clothes, you both are. Your mouth fills with saliva at the thought of what hides behind those black slacks, the thick outline you glimpsed for only a moment.

“Everyone has different definitions of cheating, though, have you discussed them with Todd?” Miguel asks, shifting his weight, his legs spreading a bit wider.

You feel like a total horndog for the way your eyes flicker down to follow the movement.

“Not really, besides the obvious, sleeping with someone else is cheating.”

“What about other things?”

You tilt your head. “Other things? Like porn or…?”

Miguel chuckles, “no dulce, such as kissing, sharing a bed, a drink, or oral, those other things.”

Another flash of memories, of the way Miguel rutted into the couch, his tongue, and fingers curled inside you, thick dark hair beneath your fingertips.

“Oh um, for me, I think most of those would be cheating? I guess it depends on the context, besides oral, which obviously that’s cheating.”

He leans forward, curious, his full attention on you, and it’s nice. He hasn’t looked at his phone once, though Miguel isn’t often on his phone when you two spend time together, you appreciate that about him. How he always acts as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than with you. “In what context would sharing a bed be okay?”

“I feel like if there’s no other bed, and the floor is dirty or crowded. One person on top of the blankets, the other under, both clothed.”

He nods, and he’s closer now, you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the thick lashes surrounding them. “Makes sense, a drink?”

“Well maybe it’s just me, but I share, food, drinks, I don’t mind letting my friends have a taste of what I’m having, or ordering. So, as long as it’s just a sip, or you know, sharing water when there’s no other water to be found, I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

Miguel gently brushes a lock of hair back from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment, sliding down until his wrist rests on the crook of your shoulder, his warm hand cradling the back of your neck.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat, eyes dropping to his lips, your fingers digging into his white button-up shirt.

“And a kiss?” His words are soft, slow, hushed, and time stands still, his thumb caressing the nape of your neck keeping you grounded.

“Maybe during a silly game, if I was there, and knew that nothing shady was going on, or you know to comfort someone you kiss them on the cheek or the forehead or…” You trail off, head tilting subconsciously, eyes fluttering.

“Or?” Miguel asks, his own eyes half lidded.

“I don’t know, I never really liked kissing, so—”

“You have not been kissed well, then.” Miguel is a mere hairsbreadth from you, lips brushing against yours with each word.

“I don’t think I have been.” Your voice has a breathless tone, you can hear it, but you don’t care. You’ve always loved the kissing scenes in books and movies, but kissing Todd felt off, felt wrong, you never felt a spark or even any semblance of satisfaction from it.

Miguel’s voice rolls over you, rich velvet, warm melted chocolate, honeyed wine, and a gentle summer breeze all wrapped into two sentences, which ensnared your senses. “Mi tesoro, ¿puedo besarte? Solo una vez, lo necesito.” Trsl: My treasure, can I kiss you? Just once, please, I need it.

“You always do that.” You whine, voice still soft like Miguel’s, too afraid to shatter the moment.

“Do what?” He asks, and you can feel his smile, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Speak Spanish to me, and then never tell me what you said.” Your free hand disobeys you. It should push you away from Miguel, but instead it tangles itself in his hair, keeping you further anchored to him.

“Engañarlo conmigo, bésame, fóllame, lo que quieras, por favor. Aceptaré lo que sea.” His tone is desperate, and you feel his lips press to your skin. But not where you want them, just to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, your nose, your closed eyelids. Trsl: Cheat on him with me, kiss me, fuck me, anything, please. I’ll take anything you give me/I'll accept whatever.

You can’t stop yourself, the emotions of the day overtaking you, your frustration with your failing relationship, your desire for Miguel, for the gentleness he shows you. Screw it, if it doesn’t work out, you’ll go get a job with Kasey, she seemed nice enough.

“Miguel, will you kiss me?” You internally cringe at how needy you sound, but when Miguel exhales, and captures your lips with his, you don’t care how you sound.

It’s perfect, his lips are soft, smooth, warm. He keeps to short pecks, lingering brushes, and when you tug on his hair pulling him closer, he moans against you deepening the kiss. The sound like that of a cello, deep and full, piercing through your skin and finding a home between your ribs.

The world turns upside down, a fervent need filling you, but Miguel refuses to hurry, to give into your demands. He is slow, languid, careful, your head is spinning. He tastes like the strawberry milkshake he was drinking, and you can smell his cologne, your brain finally, blissfully quiet.

A harsh knock on the window behind you startles you, and you jolt away from Miguel.

“Hey lovebirds, pack it up.” A security guard with his large flashlight stands outside Miguel’s car.

Miguel raises a hand and give the man an apologetic smile while reality sinks in around you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I have to leave.” You say, running a hand through your hair, trying to push Miguel’s arm off you.

Miguel tightens his grip on the back of your neck, not to scare or hurt you, but to keep you in place. “Y/N, y/n, y/n, slow down, it’s okay.”

“No, Miguel, I—we shouldn’t have done that, I know what I said, but I—”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anybody, this doesn’t have to change anything. I was just comforting you, yeah?” He smooths his hand down your arm, eyes soft, tone reassuring.

You purse your lips and nod. “Yeah, yeah, sure that’s—I should go.”

Miguel hums in acknowledgment, and slowly removes his hands, unlocking the door for you.

You scramble out, grabbing your things, face burning, stomach churning, sick with a strange cocktail of arousal and guilt. “I’ll, uh, I’ll let you know when I get home?”

“Please do.”

You hold the car door for a moment, “and Miguel, thanks for dinner, and… for comforting me, it was really nice.”

That Don Juan smile is back. “Anything for you.”

TL: @obi-mom-kenobi, @poutysprouty, @oharasfilipinawife, @laysmt, @cicithemess, @unabashedcroissanttreefan, @lynxslokley, @thedevax, @generalkenobitrash, @keiva1000

[booasaur]

Have you seen this french soa "Ici tout commence" ? There's a wlw story going on that's pretty nice! Lots of tropes ! (strangers -> bestfriends -> lovers, the socially anxious introverted x popular extroverted mean girl, fake dating....) If anyone wants to watch their story, you can ask to follow @itsoiise on twitter they have the videos with eng subtitles :) I hope you have a great day !

Hi, yeah, as I briefly mentioned the other day, I am watching it, but still pretty behind.

Instead of just watching a cut of the ship's scenes, I downloaded all the eps from this current season and the provided French closed captioning, and then machine translated those to get English subtitles that mooostly work. Then I just started watching from the first ep.

As usual with soaps, even though I'm usually jumping in for just the ship and will often skim to their parts, I like to know the full context and do eventually get sucked into the rest of the stories, so at this point I've finished Teyssier's flareup, the Lionel/Kelly/Malik/Ambre love square, just completed the David abuse story, and am now fully entering the Carla pregnancy arc. That's in November, so I still have about three more months to catch up to.

I'm surprised you mentioned fake dating for Carla and Berenice too, since she's right now in the middle of fake dating Souleymane! But please don't give me any other spoilers, I know that currently, as in right now in February, there's a lot going on with them but I've blacklisted everything so I'm actually staying pretty spoiler-free, except knowing there is activity, or at least there was on Berenice's side, that's about how much I picked up when this first popped up on my radar.

But anyway, so I love them already! Their friendship really is a perfect mix of opposites attract, like you said, the confident mean girl and the socially anxious introvert, but like any great relationship, that's just a fraction of their dynamic.

Carla being so outgoing and without any respect for boundaries that she quickly bulldozed through Berenice's, who would have never reached out first, while Berenice being so quiet is what made Carla unthreatened enough to seek her out and let her in, that's how their differences put them together but what's kept them together are all their similarities. Berenice's no doormat and her light sarcasm and humor and willingness to call Carla out are actually what make Carla really like her, and it's Carla's very occasional kindness (mostly drawn out by and for Berenice) that made her reassure Berenice at the very start and convince her to stay.

Each makes the other a better person; Carla pushes Berenice to be more outgoing and not stuck in her head or her screens so much while Berenice pushes Carla to be nicer and fairer to everyone. If they weren't already a ship I'd be shipping them!

Most of all, they genuinely like each other! It's funny that individually they're both the type to be isolated from the rest of the school, Carla too spoiled and snobby, Berenice too withdrawn, but they get along perfectly. All the contrasting and complementary parts of their personalities makes them always happy to just hang out with each other, on the same wavelength but never boring and predictable. They're just so playful and at ease and comfortable with each other, it's wonderful. :)

[shiredwarf]

i'm gonna rant a bit about veilguard for a sec, spoilers behind the cut but honestly, it's just anxiety-fueled speculations and I need to write this down because I feel like I'm going insane. aptly titled:

WHAT THE FUCK VARRIC (aka please god no, please no)

i've done everything i can do up to recruiting davrin.... so I'm not that far into the game, I think, and I have no idea, I might be wrong about all this, and it's just weird writing but things are feeling off guys :(

so.....my thoughts.....

Did Varric survive the opening sequence?

chat.... I don't think so :( I really thought he did but I started growing more and more suspicious with each cutscene and I think it's time to prepare myself :(

Maybe this is preferable to him surviving and then being corrupted by the same lyrium idol that corrupted his brother but yeah, I don't think varric is really there because:

NO ONE TALKS TO HIM, no one visits him, no one talks ABOUT him in any way that would suggest he's recovering in the infirmary

NO ONE LOOKS AT HIM during cut scenes, or talks to him, or acknowledges his existence in any way :( Rook is the only one who talks to him/visits him/addresses him/looks towards him when varric talks :(

both harding and neve have talked about varric in a strange way. not confirming he's dead but in a sort of wistful way you might use when talking about someone who died and you're just at the edge of being able to think about them the way you remember them rather than as a corpse

neither bellara nor lucanis have spoken to varric AT ALL as far as I know, nor have they mentioned him??? wouldn't that be the first thing you do once you've been recruited?

the "power transition" was really weird to me because at first it did feel like they were just putting varric on bed rest so they could make me the main character. and I wondered why not harding? why not at least include her in that conversation.... unless of course it's all not real and varric was dead to begin with

that one line harding says at some point that goes sth like "if only I could have saved...." AND SHE STOPS TALKING! GIRL WHO! WHO!

solas seems very convinced he killed varric :( and then gives his typical cryptic non-answer when rook suggests he might not be dead :/

i really hope i'm wrong but honestly, i'm convinced now he's dead and no one but rook can see or hear him :( maybe he's a fade ghost, maybe he's a hallucination because we got our brains turned into scrambled eggs, maybe he's an echo? bound to bianca? maybe he died but left a piece of himself inside rook when we were knocked out and thrown into the fade?

or maybe..... it's not even varric :(

Is it even Varric???????????

varric guiding us through the story bit by bit really fooled me :( how could he be dead when he's telling the story :( but one thing I noticed very early on is how different his tone is from how he told the story in da2? again this might just be a writing choice but it's strange how he almost sounds gleefully foreboding at the end of each sequence :/

He has not told us anything we don't already know..... his dialogue is full of varric-like quips but whenever he talks properly he's like "remember how I told you...remember when you did this.... remember when we did that"

he never once mentions bianca's status! he never once looks at her even though she is broken right beside him. he never once made an attempt to fix her BUT I did get one quip from him that went sth like "can't wait to get out there, bianca is getting impatient"....SIR SHE IS BROKEN WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ARE YOU JUST REPEATING COMMON VARRIC PHRASES WITHOUT CONTEXT?????

man I'm reaching but when solas and varric struggle there's a chime sound? as if the dagger went through the veil? and then there's like a fade tendril attached to the tip as solas pulls back???

and then there's all the fade light coming from the wound with the dagger still in it as if the fade itself was now inside his chest. when neve draggs him away later you can still see the green shimmer around his neck

varric looks very dead in the first scene in the lighthouse ... in fact he looks a lot like justice did .... but that could just be an artistic choice????.... his looks do improve after all.....dunno but it struck me as so familiar when I first saw it

and then when harding comes in and starts explaining where we are he gives you this look??? which is just a weird look? he looks like he's worried she might say too much right??? doesn't he???? that's not varric is it????

and lastly: WOULD VARRIC LET A BANDAGE STOP HIM FROM SHOWING OFF HIS CHEST HAIR! NO! :'(

so.... what if... we're being manipulated? something latched on? or maybe it's the dagger itself? we've been told over and over again in the last games that lyrium might be alive... maybe it was stuck in varric's chest long enough to learn about him and now we're the one carrying it around.... i dunno, seems strange because we already have two (three) antagonists but... i can't shake the feeling this is not varric :(

[gryphis-eyes]

⊙ Message from spirits

⊙ Welcome to this very simple but (I hope) useful pick a card, I know its been a while and here is my last attempt to get back to tumblr haha.I don’t have more to say , hope you’ll get the message that will light the fire in your !

⊙ How to pick a pile ? There are differents ways to do it, you can do a little meditation while thinking about the 3 images, you can also use a pendulum, remember to listen to your intuition while chosing and reading the messages those are general reading so not everything will be for you or it will ask you to interpret it based on your situation

◇ Deck used : Rider Waite, Shakespeare Oracle, Phenix Oracle

⊙ Pile 1 : The Cat

Cards ; 3 of cups, 6 of swords R " Tis true. The wheel is come full circle; I am here. ”

One day things go up and one day things go down, such is the nature of Fortuna’s actions. The cards are showing me those 3 muses singing with their cups full of sweet beverage while on the other side of the reading someone is struggling on their boat, going against this raging river’s flow. Some of you seems to be tired of life, you're always fighting, barely resting while other people seems to roam freely through life. Its not fair isn’t it ? I feel like the main issue here is that you're going through a though period and it affect your mental a lot, so of course our brain’s first move is to look at others and be like ”damn look at them, so happy and relaxed while im in this burning house”. Do not throw yourself heartlessly into this path which seems to be the only one, do not look at other, look at you. You might be afraid to do a specific thing (new project ?) Because others seems to do it better or the idea you got already have been done but listen to me ; nobody is doing things better than someone else, succes doesn’t mean its better it just mean it touch more people but it doesn’t mean it is made of quality. That’s why we always got people talking about underated movies, music etc, nothing is better, things are just different. What matter isn’t how amazing you'll do but rather how you will do it because you are not anyone else’s mind, look at the story of the hero with a thousand faces it has been done so so many times in fictions but people dont always realise it, why ? Because all of those fictions have been done by different people so that’s why lord of the ring is so different from star wars. To be honest I was thinking about telling you to go slower but the phenix cards are really telling you to move and just do it ! Be serious about this project wether it mean actually writing a story and publishing it or starting writing it, you got nothing to lose.

⊙ Pile 2 : The Owl

Cards ; 3 of swords R, hangedman ” for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.To me it is a prison. ”

Ive heard ”a haunted heart” part from on the fence by tv girl in mind while reading your cards. I have no contexte about what happened to you but I can tell that it was a wild ride isn t it ? Sit down my dear its time to rest and listen. Whatever happened didnt happen out of the ”univers” cruelty or a ”blessing in disguise” what happened felt like an attack toward you (from your pov) wether its truly the case or not I dont know but I truly think the cards are reminding you to focus on the present since they are hiding the past from me. Do not search for the why, do not search for a blessing coming from it, what was good what was bad do not try to listen to thousand of readers who will tell you how to act (I mostly got those ”forgiveness” speech that every new ager are repeating). You dont need to focus on that past thing you need to focus on yourself and your needs from the present, not the needs you had 5 month ago. You should let your life calm down, put less effort in the world and put more effort for yourself wether its forcing you to have a self care moment or allowing yourself to have a lazy day or just sit down and do nothing but listen to music. The lyrics from ”after the storm” it carry the whole message im trying to give you. Basically, yes what happened suck but its not an excuse to give up on yourself.

⊙ Pile 3 ; The Snake

The lover, 3 of swords R

" The enemy increaseth every day; We, at the height, are ready to decline.There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures. "

It's time to risk it all my friend. I have no idea if It's a project, a ritual/spell (I get that most of you are into witchcraft or spiritual thing). See this snake going for the butterfly even if It's small and can avoid the snake’s strike easily, the reptile still go for it. It even look like the snake is using the obstacle in order to jump higher to catch the butterfly. (Idk why I get that you should try to watch samurai champloo). The advice here, is to look at everything that went bad or didn’t work in the past and ask yourself ”why” so now you'll be able to make your action more effective because you have grown a lot since the last time you try that thing or something similar. I feel a big burst of energy so its like everything is here, you just have to act. Like the snake, do not chase your goal or just walk around it until you saw the opportunity. Just go in front of it and strike ! With the Lover I see that this thing is dear to your heart or will light the fire in yourself again. You can do it, you have the power to do so, you can only gain good thing from this situation that will (above of making you happy) will heal something in yourself.

⊙

[robertfettuccine]

My Post-May the Fourth Bad Batch Thoughts

there's lots of 'em

[spoilers]

To start off, I was So excited for the finale I stayed up to watch it when it came out (1am in my time zone) and idk it didn’t feel worth it to do that during finals week after watching the ep

Maybe I had too high expectations but I figured that to wrap up the entire show we’d at least get an hour? Maybe more? I was hoping for something like the s1 premiere but no 51 minutes and you suffer.

Ok I've decided to put my thoughts into 15 minute increments for Organization Purposes

Part One thoughts:

Ok so right away I feel the "wrecker is gonna die" vibes. "Can you make it?" "Try and stop me." It feels very final it feels like he won't. I def thought my first time around that he wasn't gonna make it

The way Hemlock holds that gloved hand... I thought surely that had to be important somehow. I've been wondering about it since he was introduced.

Echo looks like handsome squidward sorry

The way Omega rewires the droid.. Tech. But the way she starts giving orders to the rest of the kids is so Hunter. She really is her fathers' (plural) daughter.

Sidenote the way her theme combines with a light, string-heavy version of the Bad Batch theme while she and the kids are getting ready to leave the vault... mmmm me when music

Ok back to the Batch and ough.. Wrecker is seriously hurt this had me so nervous they're out of med patches I thought for Sure he was gone

Imagine you're in the military and you get sent to some super secret boring base and your whole job is to stand around and guard a submerged lizard (?) and you're already confused and over it and then you find a bunch of kids in your walls???

WOw this is really minor but the cut from the kids and the Zillo to Echo and Emerie at 9:46 felt Really awkward. That's all.

the HAND thing again what is With that Hemlock??

Wrecker again with the Dying

REX MENTION!!!!! WTF IS A BAD HELMET PAINT JOB

"Clone Force 99 died with Tech" what a great line. If only it carried emotional weight within the rest of the story. If only the character's actions made that make sense. Hmm.

"If we all go in, we're not all making it out" see this is why I thought I was getting rogue one'd

"Omega needs you both" is sweet and cool, but she doesn't. She's proved this whole season that she's competent on her own. Idk.

Plan 99 namedrop? Also crosshair's self hatred and guilt is so devastating he's constantly trying to atone and it's so.....

Tech namedrop????? And for WHAT??????????

nOO that stormtrooper.. they done squished his ass

Jax is afraid of heights! Just like Wrecker!! Good character moment for everybody.

Part 1 TLDR: The first third of this episode was full of contrast, which was super interesting to watch. Omega and the kids are doing great, the lighting on them is generally softer and.. idk, lighter. They get hopeful music and they succeed. The Batch on the other hand..... everything is so ominous. It feels like somebody's gonna die (and it feels like it's Wrecker). My main gripes: some of the jump cuts feel like the episode was hastily stitched together and they don't make sense, I don't really know what to do with that knowledge. The Plan 99 conversation didn't make any sense within the context of this season (I'll elaborate later). Positives: Omega is really winning this ep, you can see all of her brothers in her and it's beautiful. What they've done with her theme in the music I Love. That moment with Omega and Jax when he says he's afraid of heights is really sweet.

Part Two Thoughts:

Ok starting off strong, Scorch questioning his orders for a bit? He's going to lose brothers? The door closes before we can hear what he says over the comm? I really thought maybe Scorch redemption.

Ok Hemlock is activating the CXs. There's four of them.

They all have different armor.. and different body types.. very similar to the batch....... hmmmmmmm

CX-2!! *clown noises*

Ok close up on the same CXs from before. One of them uses blades. One has.. sci-fi brass knuckles? CX-2 is there. This feels like Evil Bad Batch.

THE CLOSE UP ON CX-2 SPECIFICALLY WHY IS HE IMPORTANT

wrecker dying again uhnnnnnnhnhhhhhhhhhh

The brass knuckles CX just grabbed a panel of Something and used it as a shield. That's Plan 82. That's Wrecker's job.

WHY IS THERE ONE WITH GOGGLES JUST LIKE TECH'S? WHY

Goggles clone duel wields sword-vibroblades. ?

The one with the staff.. Hunter?

Ok Vibro-Sword CX, why toss the Sword to CX-2 so he can cut off Crosshair's hand? Why not just do it yourself? Those things have enough reach that he could have sliced it off himself.

The way CX-2 talks is Just like Crosshair. The inflections are exactly the same.

Ok I get Hemlock's a sadist but why keep the Batch alive at all? Seems like that's more dangerous than experimenting on them is productive

Echo and Omega's reunion is lovely. "Hey kid. And... other kids." he's doing amazing

Using the Chief Scientist's datapad just like last time Omega escaped... nice.

Hemlock's hand again.

Ok so crosshair just gets a hand stump and we move on?? This whole scene felt weird and out of place to me but Especially that.

Yeah!! Clone rebellion. Echo is Fives if he won (and had no melanin)

Maybe Electrostaff CX is Wrecker? He seems taller and has a wider build.

But nvm Brass Knuckles CX plays wrecker's part in the batch and Electrostaff doesn't

GOGGLES AGAIN WITH THE SWORDS?? WhY isn't CX-2 fighting with the rest why is he with Hemlock why does he stand out so much WHY

"My work will always be Kaminoan" yeah Nala Se isn't redeemed for me she's still a supremacist and a eugenicist and she and Rampart both deserved what they got. Satisfying ending for them both though.

Part 2 TLDR: This part had a ton of potential. There were a lot of suspenseful and mysterious shots. The story started getting more intense, even though the kids escaped successfully. There was weight there, and as an audience we could tell how much was on the line. I loved watching this part. My main gripes: Honestly none with this part alone. All of it felt pretty in-character, it had depth, it had weight, and it had meaning in the story. It makes less sense when we get to Part 3 though. Positives: I absolutely loved watching this part of the ep. It had me on the edge of my seat trying to figure out just what was going on with the CXs and who wasn't going to make it out. Giving Echo the chance to continue his brother's mission and free the clones was great. Nala Se and Rampart both got a fitting end, I was very satisfied with that as well.

Part Three Thoughts:

Wrecker is fighting Staff Guy (possibly Evil Wrecker) oh that would've been so cool

And they just STABBED HIM?? JUST LIKE THAT?? What was with the focus on CX-2 throughout the ENTIRE SEASON when he literally Didn't Matter At All???

We're not even gonna talk about the hand then huh. Ok.

Closeup of the Goggles Helmet?? What was the purpose. What was it.

And then they have SOmeone pick up the sword and helmet all ominously and then it's just some guy. We see his face. It kinda looks too small for his body. Like bad photoshop

Ok so echo doesn't have lungs? or like..

There is Such a focus on the Goggles. Like we were never supposed to see his face. Like it was maybe supposed to be suspenseful.

Ok why so ominous if Wrecker is just gonna shove his face into a wall instantly? Why all the suspense and cool shots?

When CX-2's ship blew up I thought for sure it was from Rex or Phee's ship. But no. (can regular DC-15s even Do that?)

HNNNNNHG wet hair Hunter

SCORCH?? Ok so he could have been some random guy and it wouldn't have made a difference. What was the purpose. Why did he have a name? Why bring in a Legends character just to get rid of him in the most anticlimactic way possible?

Hemlock threatening Omega literally doesn't make any sense? It carries Zero weight. Omega even brings it up and Hemlock doesn't respond. Because it doesn't make sense for his character. Why.

Nice little callback with Crosshair's shoulder rest

Crosshair shooting Omega's binders off should be a tense moment but it's not. There's nothing at stake here. We know he won't shoot Omega. What am I supposed to be feeling?

Ok seeing Hemlock just get absolutely Pelted was nice

She hugged Crosshair first. Maybe we can start resolving some of his guilt. If we actually took time to show characters processing their emotions.

We're Still not talking about the hand? That feels notable, is that just me???

Ok and everyone just.. leaves. We just leave. It's done? Where was the climax supposed to be genuine question

Ok so we're namedropping now. Project Stardust with a nice subtle imperial march in the background. Okay?

We are back on Pabu now. The clone kids are there. The clones are there. The kids are there. Emerie is there. Everybody's happy.

Where is Phee?

Echo's ending is actually fine. I went into this ep the first time thinking for Sure he was going to die. Instead he's doing what Fives died trying to do. He's the last Domino but he doesn't have to fall and I think that's ok. But why isn't he with Rex in Rebels?

"With Hemlock gone, and his data destroyed, they're finally safe" - M. Night Shyamalan in the ATLA movie because we must Tell our audience Everything. Seriously why are we telling the audience something they can see? Why does Omega say that out loud? Nobody would say that. It's obvious. That line was just SO out of place

No real goodbyes for Echo though? No sweet character moments? No reactions from anyone?

Nice clones theme though. Fives would be proud.

All the dialogue between Omega and Hunter in this final scene just feels so.. off. Lazy. Show us what's going on, don't tell.

Why do Crosshair and Wrecker feel like such an afterthought here? Why is it so Awkward? Why were they over saying goodbye to Echo and Omega and Hunter weren't? It feels like they weren't supposed to make it out. It feels weird. It feels forced.

Part 3 TLDR: This was the part of the ep that just fell flat for me. It had some cool moments, but it felt really rushed and poorly thought out. It feels very out of place with the previous 30mins. It almost feels to me like it was rewritten, although I may just be delusional. My main gripes: This part of the ep should have had the big emotional moments and also wrapped up all the loose ends introduced in the rest of the season. It did none of that for me. Why cut off Crosshair's hand to have none of the characters really acknowledge his sacrifice? That isn't a resolution to his arc. None of the Things that happened to the Batch this season were processed at all, and everyone except Hunter and Omega was pretty much sidelined towards the end. CX-2, who was built up all season, died in a super unsatisfying way. The dialogue and staging of that final scene felt super off. The cavalry never arrived. Positives: As always, the Kiners killed it. The music was great. I love a happy ending, that rarely happens in Star Wars and I would've absolutely eaten it up under the right circumstances. Watching Hemlock finally get it was super satisfying. Echo's ending as a continuation of the Domino Squad's quest for clone individuality was really fitting actually. That One shot of Tantiss... glorious.

Epilogue Thoughts:

The way the city is set up on Pabu makes it look just like Tantiss in the overhead shot.

Aww the red bandana in Omega's hair

Hunter aged much better than Rex.

"We want to keep you safe" "You're our kid Omega" OK WHERE IS THE WE? WHERE IS THE OUR????

Ha she's taller than him short king Hunter wins

"Keep an eye on Wrecker and Crosshair" you're not gonna say bye? They aren't gonna see you off?? No way Wrecker would be ok with that

The GOGGLES :((((

Omega's lil salute like Tech in S2E4 Faster my heart

Where are Crosshair and Wrecker in the epilogue. It feels like a weird choice to leave them out. They're just as much her dads as Hunter is.

Epilogue TLDR: Honestly I liked that this was their ending. Finally, some Star Wars characters can have peace. With that said, My main gripes: significant lack of Crosshair and Wrecker, who absolutely wouldn't have let omega leave without saying goodbye. Similarly, lack of Phee, who seemed to be becoming a mother figure to Omega. I can't imagine she wouldn't have seen her daughter off. Positives: old Hunter. We don't get to see that many clones age, and Rebels animation, as much as I love it, just didn't quite do it justice. It was great to see some characters get to actually live out full (ish) lives at peace. Also older Omega's character design was peak.

Oooookay so this ended up being a Lot longer than I intended it to be when I started writing it but I just had a lot of thoughts on the finale and needed to put them somewhere. I loved the experience of being a part of the Bad Batch fandom from start to finish, and I made some great memories for sure. While the finale wasn't necessarily what I was hoping for from this show, I loved being delusional with everybody. Plus, this isn't the end. (we know they won't give up the clone wars animation style it makes them too much money)

[theeccentricraven]

The 24th Day of Writemas 💚🤍❤️🌟👩‍💻✍️

It is now Christmas Eve! The last day of Writemas is here! Thank you so much @agirlandherquill for making Writemas possible!🫂 It helped me reach my writing goals, be productive, and get creative. I've enjoyed posting snippets of my writing. Thank you to all who have complimented and accepted this gift! 🤗

For the 24th Day of Writemas I chose the prompt "One day, everything we know will be gone. Until that time, you owe it to history to enjoy it." I liked how this and a couple of the dialogue prompts fit in with my YA Dystopias where a character speaks up against the oppressive region. I realized that it was something my Sanctuary Calling OC Luana would say in the scene where she invites Nari to join her cause, especially with the context of how the two enjoyed VR simulations with historic periods. This was a great excuse to write a scene I wanted to write for so long. I hope you all enjoy this girl 🎀🎁

___________________________________________________________

Luana sits in my tea table chair while I sit in my desk chair. She glances around at the old toys, Korean decor, and plane models. 

She looks at me as she says, "One day, everything we know will be gone. Until that time, you owe it to history to enjoy it."

I rarely hear something like this, if ever. The WC’s media focuses on the immortality of a civilization they believe will last for thousands of years. They describe humanity’s ancestors as fools who defiled Sanctuary’s beauty as a basis for how the WC will foster a greater humanity. 

“Yes,” I agree. “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the hard work and sacrifices of our ancestors. We can’t take life for granted.”

I watch Luana’s face, taking in every detail of her long dark hair, observant dark eyes, floral crown and leis. A feeling tells me there’s something inside her, brewing in her mind. I have no idea. I brush it aside. 

She points at the models of my planes. “Is that why you do what you do? Making the most for our future just as our ancestors did?”

“Of course,” I say. “I mean I love it. From the time my father first taught me. I was really little. And if I can use what I love to create a better life, a better future for humanity, why not?”

Luana nods. “I…I should be honest with you.” Her voice draws melancholy. “I overheard that argument with your parents. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop….”

I sigh. “Oh, it’s fine. I was afraid you heard it. I’m not surprised. Honestly, that’s how it is every night.”

Luana closes her eyes for a second, then opens them. “I take it your parents have a different view of what’s best for the future than you do?”

“Well, yeah,” I say because of how obvious it is. “My parents are biased. They’re from families full of doctors. They believe medicine is superior. They believe I need to save as many lives as my father has to continue the family legacy.”

“I’m sorry,” Luana says softly. “Having to put up with that every night. I can’t imagine.”

I nod. “That's why it’s so important to go to the Lunar School. I’ll finally leave them behind. Do what I want to do.”

Luana tightens her lips. “Will it ever end though? What if five years from now, you’re an aerodynamics engineer and one of the best in the field. Will your parents talk about how proud they are of you? Or will they talk about what could have been?”

I hang my mouth open. I try to process. All that had dreamed the Lunar School would give me seems to drift away. “I never thought about it but…” But yes. For all that I envisioned of going to school, graduating, and designing the flying machines of the future, there’s not a light at the end of the tunnel when my parents are standing where the light should be. I know them well enough to know they will spend the rest of their lives ranting about what could have been, even if I develop the fastest flying land vehicle ever. 

I raise my voice a little. “Why are you saying this?” I almost forget the wonderful day we spent in the simulators with Myeongseong and Liliʻuokalani. I now wonder who this exchange student is who had to come into my life. 

Luana slowly looks around the room.

“Well?” I ask, losing my patience.

“Nari,” Luana says gently. “Are you able to turn off the home AI?”

“Oh, sure,” I say. I’m not supposed to cut Cho off from my bedroom, but my parents won’t notice if it’s only for a few minutes. If we’re going to keep talking about my parents behind their backs, it makes sense. “Jin, turn off Cho’s connection in this room.”

“As you wish!” Jin chirps giddily. 

“Also,” Luana adds, “are you fine with turning off your quant?”

I blink. I’ve never heard that phrase before. I suppose it makes sense for a few minutes if we want a private conversion. “Um, okay. Jin, turn my quant off.” I’ll have to manually turn it back on when we’re done, but I’ll live. 

Luana smiles satisfactorily. “Sorry for the secrecy. I have to be extra cautious with your parents. They’re so close to the Chancellor that I’d say they’re friends.” 

I chuckle. “My mom is friends with the Chancellor!”

Luana nods. “So I had to be careful.” She stands up. “Nari, what if I were to tell you that you have the chance to connect the roots of our ancestors with the present for a better future?”

I tilt my head. “I would ask what does that mean?”

Luana strides around me. I watch. 

“Nari, you are very different from everyone else. The speech you gave at the student aviation show. Everything that I’ve seen you do and say today. You have a good head on your shoulders. And a good heart. That’s why I’m trusting you with a secret. What if I was part of a group who knew a way to free you from your parents while freeing all of humanity? Giving you the chance to live your dreams? Giving your chance to walk where your ancestors walked? Enjoying the beauty of this universe?”

I freeze. I feel tingling. Butterflies in my stomach. Chills running up my veins. “I would ask what’s the catch?”

I turn to watch as Luana sits on my bed. “It doesn’t come free. It comes with a lot of sacrifice, but it’s worth it.”

I peer at her. I’m catching on to what our visitor is really about. I should have known back when I saw her profile’s bold bio line: You deserve to be free.

“Come on,” I say. “If you’re part of the Return to Earth Initiative, just say it!”

Luana laughs. “You’re smart Nari! Nice of you to call us that instead of the not so nice names the WC calls us.”

I tap my knee. “Look, I have no interest in reporting you. But I believe you’re barking up the wrong tree. Whatever you’re asking of me, forget it.”

Luana leaned forward. “I can walk away. I appreciate you keeping this a secret. If you give me a chance to make my case, will you listen? I think you want to hear it.”

“Ok,” I say amused. “I’m listening.”

__________________________________________________________

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and OPEN!

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

The Batman (2022) isn't perfect by any means, but it is still a phenomenal film and one of the best pieces of Bat-media in recent memory.

Firstly, the aesthetic. Seemingly small but an incredibly important part. BTAS was broody, '89 was gothic, Forever was campy, TDK was... bad. And TB I think finds a real sweet spot in between vibes. It's dark, serious, it's got a technological noir, and yet still has vibrancy and color and (the key to my heart) neon.

One scene, you'll be sitting in an abandoned tunnel with shadows and muddy colors, the next you'll be surrounded by police under white lights, and the next you'll be in a night club with LEDs of every color you can think.

The fights. This film has some of the best Batman fights I've ever seen period. Really just action in general. The night club, the hallway, the finale. It's not like TDK where every fight is slow, precise, methodical, and honestly boring. Each fight or chase here is energetic and entertaining. The choreography is excellent, the stakes are legitimately high, and the settings are always unique.

The night club is crowded and overwhelming, with people swinging, shouting, and grabbing at Bats who aren't even apart of the fight. His skills and equipment save his life multiple times, whether it's block a bullet with a precise pipe throw or survive a shotgun blast with his armor. When he finally grabs Penguin you feel as overwhelmed and animalistic as he does.

The precinct escape is tight and tense. From the punch to the jump, every second makes you feel the absolute abominable stress of trying to escape a building like this. Officers pouring out of every room, bullets whizzing by and beaming off his suit. Merely seconds to get the flight suit on before they come pouring out to the roof. We experience the fall with him as his nerves spike, all culminating in a quick second decision that ends with him crashing into the side of the road.

Gotham. The beloved city feels full here. Subways are crowded, streets are packed. The crime feels real. Vandals, gang violence, thieves, assassins, crime families. It's not just militants and killers. We see the systemic issues in place that cause these. We see the feelings and social strains that make people do this. It's like you're taking a peak into another world with context and history you don't know but understand. It feels right.

The characterizations. I'm not a huge fan of the whole "Bruce Wayne is the mask, Batman is the real you" thing inflamed by TDK. And I really don't like "the Waynes were corrupt and did bad things, even for good reasons".

I think there's so much more to say about the two very different, very real sides to Bruce's personality. The one that comes out as billionaire playboy philanthropist, and the one that comes out as a violent and vengeful demon. Both who are willing to suffer for their causes. And I think there's so much more when the Waynes die from a mugging. That the crime is so bad it took the highest. That it could take anyone at any time, even the beloved elite.

However it does something right that most other Bat-media fails at. It makes Batman a symbol of hope. It demonstrates a growth in himself. That he can do more good to inspire the people than to instill fear in them.

Pandaredd made a good video on this, but in Crisis On Two Earths, Bats' opposite is represented as the ultimate nihilist. This means that at his core, Batman is really the ultimate optimist. And that makes sense. You don't put on a suit and fight crime, you don't try to create resources to help people, you don't befriend and reform your own Rogues gallery unless you believe you can change something. That all the work you do, all the suffering you experience will be worth it when you get to know the world healed.

And that's something The Batman understands. Batman started as a symbol of fear. So that every criminal hesitates at an alley. Panics at a shadow. But he became something else. A symbol of optimism. So that people can walk the streets at night. That they can get the help they need. That they can look into the sky with hope.