#it talks about him in context of a rebuild

[whistlingstarlight]

Readinggg the Island of Sodor lore book and every mention of Henry I and II is so fucking ominous to me. Like I knew it was a fan theory/headcanon that Henry was replaced after being sent to Crewe but does this make it canon? Awdry what the fuck does this mean???

[falsecardigan]

No bc I agree with everything about this. I truly want to believe that everything wrong with the season five finale will be somewhat rectified in season six. Especially because we have almost a year until it airs. It won't be able to rectify the fact that Adrien wasn't there or the fact that he will never get the closure his character so desperately needs. However it can have Marinette actually think about what she's doing and have her change her mind and have her tell him (obviously as Ladybug). I'd rather it not narratively cause problems because it does upset me that this was one thing that genuinely had nothing to do with relationship conflict and it never should have been but all I want at this point is for Adrien to stop being left in the dark. It's been an ongoing theme in the show since season two and there are so many episodes showing why that shouldn't happen (especially in season four) and yet it keeps happening. The truth might hurt for him to hear but he deserves to know and I really do hope Maribug tells him because the absolute worst thing that could happen is someone else tells him.

ok since i’ve really only whined but not actually explained my reasoning lol, here is my take on the s5 finale. (this is long, sorry)

I think we’re all on the same page about the idea that gabriel being seen as a hero, by all of paris but especially adrien, is icky. and on top of that it does not feel good that marinette is supporting that lie, even if it’s out of love for adrien. most people are assuming this issue will be resolved somehow in 6, probably by lila exposing the truth. cool. that’s my hope as well. but even if that’s the case, i still dislike the framing of his wish and what the surrounding context seems to imply about it.

it is not my assumption that gabriel’s wish included green initiatives and a reformation of the parisian school system lol. I assume that his wish was to exchange his own life for nathalie’s. but as we know, wishes literally rewrite reality. the fact is that paris improved after his wish, so it is still related. he remade the world, and the new world ended up better. It all supports the idea that his wish was a good thing—a noble sacrifice that redeemed him in some sense. my impression is that even if (hopefully) he is exposed as hawkmoth, the actual wish he made will still be framed as admirable. obviously marinette found it noble enough to agree to lie to everyone about gabriel’s identity as hawkmoth.

which brings me to another pain point: the fact that gabriel essentially won the long battle against ladybug and chat noir. i’ve heard arguments that he didn’t win because he died and how is that winning? he got what he deserved in the end. but imo, he just put himself out of his own misery, because he was on the brink of death anyway because of his cataclysm wound, and he basically escaped having to face any emotional consequences from his literal terrorism and child abuse. and even if you don’t consider that a win, you also can’t consider marinette’s end of the deal a win either. her goal was to prevent hawkmoth from unifying the miraculous and making a reality-altering wish. which is exactly what happened. so she failed her mission. ladybug lost. and to me it’s sort of bizarre that the narrative seems to be framing that as a good thing? ladybug lost, but the new reality that resulted from it is so much better than the old one, and she is actively choosing to lie in order to protect the seeming goodness of that reality.

marinette is lying, of course, to protect adrien, which does not feel out of character. we’ve seen her do this before. but it is frustrating to me for precisely that reason. the final battle was meant to highlight how much marinette has grown over the past five seasons, but her choice here highlights the ways she has not grown. starting with syren in season 2, she has witnessed how much it hurts chat noir to be left in the dark and how it weakens their partnership. in that case, she convinced master fu to let him be in the know, and trust was restored. but then she continued a habit of keeping things from him, putting more and more distance between them, till it culminated with kuro neko in s4—a total breakdown of the ladynoir partnership, where chat noir renounced his miraculous. i would have thought that marinette would learn from that experience and realize that keeping people in the dark is harmful and that even if the truth hurts, adrien has a right to know it. but she once again made the decision for him, and when he finally finds out, it will be all the more painful to know that the person he loves and trusts most in the world lied to him. i actually really appreciate that marinette as a protagonist has such a good heart but is still such an imperfect character, so i want to respect this choice as a manifestation of her flawed but good intentions. i just can’t help but be really disappointed that after 5 seasons of making the same mistakes again and again, she has apparently not learned from them, which makes me feel she has not grown the way the writers say she has.

her facing hawkmoth alone for the final battle is supposed to be a sign of that growth—and yes, I can see how she has grown a lot in confidence and capability since her shaky debut as ladybug. but i also feel that her flying solo defies one of the central themes of miraculous: that in the fight against evil, good people need to stand together. just think of the difference between the s4 and the s5 finale. in strike back, ladybug is broken and sobbing because she has lost the miraculous and feels like a failure who is all alone. but then she is buoyed up by her faithful partner and all of paris, who express unbreakable faith in her and vow to stand by her side. that was so powerful! showing that she doesn’t have to be alone, and she’s not supposed to be alone, and that part of being a hero means accepting help and working with others to achieve good goals. this message was a major part of marinette’s character arc in s4 and it’s something that was introduced from the very beginning and has been supported over and over in the show. but then in “re-creation,” she has no team, and she doesn’t need one. which … good for her, I guess? But then why did we have 5 seasons of “you and me against the world” if in the end it was always going to culminate with “I'm sure we can figure out a solution if we work together. You … and me”—referring to Marinette and Gabriel, while Adrien is literally locked in a blank white prison hundreds of miles away?

it just really kills me that in kuro neko, adrien gave up his ring under the assumption that chat noir was not needed—that he was entirely useless to ladybug. and then the narrative proved him right. ladybug did not need chat noir to defeat monarch. she just needed his ring. the writers confirmed in their recent commentary that they had planned a bug noire fusion from the beginning, and they intentionally sidelined adrien so that could happen—they even had to figure out an excuse for why he wouldn’t be there. so they traumatized him with nightmares of destruction and fear of akumatization to ensure that he would once again give up his ring and conveniently remained locked away while bug noire faced down monarch alone.

you could argue that it’s better for adrien to have missed the final battle anyway, since facing his own father would just be even more traumatizing for him. i understand that. (that’s the reason i liked that in the owl house, it ended up being just luz vs belos, and hunter did not have to face him again.) but at the same time it feels so narratively unjust that chat noir—who has been fighting against hawkmoth by ladybug’s side since day 1—has zero part in seeing his mission through to the end. even though it’s all about him. because while marinette is the protagonist, adrien is the connecting piece of the whole story. it’s always been ladybug vs hawkmoth, and adrien is in the middle of them, because he’s both ladybug’s partner and gabriel’s son.

you’d think, logically, that as the connecting piece, Adrien’s decisions would be vital to the plot. That he’d have the power to tip it either way. but instead he is completely stripped of his autonomy—literally, because he’s a senti, and also symbolically in the narrative, because he’s simply removed from the equation. Like, he’s still central to the equation but he has no say in it. It’s all about him but he’s not even present. Everyone is fighting for him but he can’t fight for himself. Everyone is speaking for him but he doesn’t even have a voice.

the finale kind of sets up marinette and gabriel as narrative foils of each other, showing how they have the same motivation—to make adrien happy. and they make the same decision to protect that goal. which is interesting, sure, but also kind of effed up to me? i’m not sure what to take from the idea of the protagonist mirroring the antagonist in this way. that’s been done loads of times, but in this context, for a child audience, i don’t know what to make of it. what kind of message that is supposed to send to the children who are the primary audience of this show? ladybug is a good guy, and in the end, she’s just like the villain because they both love adrien and want to protect him. so that’s why she agrees to tell everyone the bad guy was a hero. ????

that gabriel/marinette parallel leaves adrien to parallel emilie, which makes sense and is fitting but also just sort of … depressing and again, lowkey effed up. that adrien ends up with the same narrative role as a corpse in a coffin. almost, like, macguffin-esque—a thing that motivates the agents of the story but has no agency itself. despite him being so central to both sides of the main conflict, his decisions don’t affect the outcome. because he doesn’t have the option to make any. because he’s not even present. both gabriel and marinette made a life-altering decision for adrien, thinking it was best for him, without considering that what’s best for him is to know his own story and make his own choices. him getting the rings was somewhat relieving, but it also felt like kind of a slap in the face. because it’s like, “look, adrien’s free! he has his amok and no one can control him anymore!” but, like, how free is a person who is living a lie? will he ever experience true autonomy, or will his life continue to be dictated by the decisions others make for him? will the narrative give him decision-making power or will his role continue to be symbolic?

one thing that makes this all extra dissatisfying is that Adrien literally does not have the option of getting closure with his father, because he’s dead. maybe a dramatic reveal in the middle of the final battle would not be the best way to go about it, but now he can’t have any sort of closure. in the owl house, it didn’t feel necessary for hunter to be present in the belos takedown because he already had his confrontation with belos in graveyard possession scene. belos tried to physically control him, and hunter broke free, and spoke his mind, and as traumatizing at is all was, it was good for him to be able to do that. it would’ve been so nice if adrien also had that opportunity. if he did break free from his father’s control, either by overcoming akumatization or the control of his amok somehow. or if not that, if he were just able to have one honest conversation with his father about emilie. like he did with his alt self in the paris special. it was so significant for the writers that bug noire detransformed and spoke to gabriel as marinette. why couldn’t adrien have done that? Marinette is the one to tell Gabriel that Adrien wouldn’t want him to make the wish and hurt someone else, that Adrien has made peace with his grief, that he has learned to cherish his mother’s memory without living in the past. wouldn’t that be even more powerful coming from adrien himself? if adrien was part of that final confrontation just as himself, we could even still have bug noire play a primary role.

i get that adrien being part of the battle is a risk, since we saw in chat blanc one option of how it could play out. but we also saw in the collector another potential way adrien might respond to learning that his father is hawkmoth—charging into battle by ladybug’s side. especially if he was given time to process the idea beforehand. it’s not impossible. you’d just have to compose the scene and its buildup a different way. so honestly it feels sort of lazy to just remove him for the sake of ease? and also sort of a waste of narrative potential? the villain being the father of one of the main characters is such an interesting plot element. imagine if luke skywalker did not ever face darth vader. if he never even learned that vader was his father. or if he learned that fact after vader’s death, which was the result of a confrontation he was not present for.

of course, i know adrien is not the protagonist. marinette is. and of course i want her to be empowered by the story. but i’m getting a little tired of what i see as kind of cheap feminism in ML. like, girl power for the sake of visibility so the writers can pat themselves on the back about it, if that makes sense? this show does have so much good feminist power with a strong female lead who has realistic flawless and a big heart, who overcomes self-doubt and other struggles, and who has proven time and again to be a smart, capable leader who has earned the trust of everyone on her team. but all of that sometimes feels undercut by the narrative treatment of adrien—like he has to be put down somehow to elevate marinette. ML has subverted gender roles in a lot of ways by having ladybug lead with her brain while chat noir follows with his heart. and adrien has a lot of other strong feminine associations—the focus on his physical appearance, the expectation of perfection and obedience, his soft and gentle nature, his romanticism, etc. And one of the biggest ones is all the ways he is trapped, all the ways he is pushed down and made to be submissive. they even depict him as a princess locked in a tower, with marinette as the knight in shining armor to save him from the evil dragon (his father). with adrien in that traditionally feminine role, it would have been empowering to see him to take a leading part in his own liberation. instead, he was locked away both literally and symbolically in favor of a solo bug noire confrontation, so marinette could look like a girlboss in her cool new outfit, taking on the bad guy all by herself, even when it would (imo) fit better with the themes of the show and her own character arc for her to fight alongside her partner. but as Thomas Astruc said, “She's Barbie, he's Ken. You don't like it. I get it. It won't change. Anything else?” (X) it just makes me feel that the writers cared more about the cinematic value and feminist brownie points of that battle than its narrative significance—which i feel could only be increased by adrien’s participation. “all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing” … and that is all adrien was allowed to do.

i think a lot of fans at this point are just assuming that whatever feels dissatisfying/off will be fixed in s6. they’re trusting that the writers have a brilliant master plan that we just have to be patient and wait to see come together. idk, maybe i’m just tired. or a little jaded. i think there will be a lot to enjoy in s6, but i’m also prepared for disappointment. i honestly did not love many elements of s4 as well as s5, and i had expectations that weren’t fulfilled there either. i’ve felt let down by the writers many times now, so i expect that many of their future choices will  resonate with me. but i still love ML, and I am eager to see how everything will unfold. i’ve also read a lot of other analyses of the s5 finale, and there are great points being made on many sides. this is just my personal interpretation and opinion. i did not like the finale when i first watched it, and after sitting on it for months and trying to evaluate my feelings and look at it logically, i still do not like it lol. if you do, great! this isn’t intended as a personal attack on anyone—just me expressing my two cents, which ended up being more like $20. thanks for bearing with me if you read all this ✌️

[tritoch]

i've seen a lot of people complain about the dawntrail final dungeon for being a thing that we have basically already done and i understand and in many ways agree with that complaint but i do think it varies from the usual in ways that are actually pretty compelling.

spoilers for dawntrail follow, natch.

like okay in amaurot and the dead ends and the lunar subterrane (okay this is definitely a well CBU3 has gone to too many times), the premise is the fights you're engaging in are all kind of historical. behold, the dooms of amaurot. tremble before ra-la, a real sphinx that actually existed once somewhere. face durante, just as golbez faced him in real life.

and accordingly, because all the fighting is supposed to match the energy of the dungeons, these are moments of panic and peril. the world is ending. the worlds are ending. the kingdom is on fire. there's a solemn villain voiceover to really drive the point home (we just wanted to play...on da amaurotine playground...). amaurot is falling and look how sad it is. every world died and look how painful it was. my best buddy golbez died and it was really sad. everything is Fucked Up.

what's really fun about alexandria by contrast, particularly in the first part, is that things are fine, actually! sphene's here (well, "heah"), and we love her, and she smiles because we smile and we smile for her :). oh no alexandria is falling and it's so sad and noble because of everyone's chivalric sacrifices :( oh yay we're rebuilding from the ashes :)

it's a beautiful, tragic, noble story. and the whole time no one's talking to you, not like normal. sphene's kind of reciting the lyrics to memory from cats listlessly but everyone in her memories is talking to each other, not to you. none of them are interacting with you. you're not fighting alongside her against her enemies or taking down conjured horrors from the past.

no, the whole time you're being reminded of one very specific fact.

You're foreign. You're not from here. This is not for you. This is not yours. This peace was not yours and never will be. This grief, this hope. You chose otherwise. You were offered the chance to be Alexandrian. You rejected it. Stay over there. Stay out. You are not wanted here.

in what i personally choose to interpret as a bit of dark comedy, when things start breaking down, it's literally one of the only words you still understand.

ultimately what distinguishes alexandria from amaurot or the dead ends (intentional "this is why i'm sad" slideshows made specifically for the warrior of light to experience) or the lunar subterrane (accidental memory recreation) is that you are choosing to invade sphene's memories. you are doing a cool little backdoor heist at the luxor casino by causing chaos all over the strip before you crawl through the vents to get to the mainframe or whatever.

but in the context of dawntrail, alexandria is the invading power, the rapacious techno-dystopia that intends to carry out forever wars so it can use the literal souls of its enemies to power its treat machines and which not so coincidentally spawned in north america. and alexandria has literally invaded both tuliyollal and yyasulani at this point. so the conceit of the memory guardians helps make clear the hegemonic logic at play. you are a foreign entity. you are not a subject of the state. your life has no value. you must be removed.

or, if removal proves impossible, exterminated.

[bigfatbreak]

I see a lot of people talking about what Chloé and Kim did, and I think I'm missing something? What did they do?

In a more recent episode "Derision," (sloppy sum up below)

its discovered that the reason Marinette is so stunted, awkward, and generally staccato about dating Adrien in spite of genuinely liking him, is because she was a major victim of Chloe's the year prior. During that year, Chloe threatened anyone who would attempt to befriend her, isolating Marinette completely, only having a friend in a girl named Socqueline who would relentlessly defend her.

At the time, Marinette had a crush on Kim, and so Chloe, knowing Kim loves pranks, had him "prank" her at the pool as a fake confession. As Kim offered a fake, heartfelt confession in return for Marinette's own, he gifted Marinette a box full of spiders, causing her to flip out and fall into the pool from the high end. Sabine and Chloe were filming the whole thing, and planned on posting it on social media to openly mock her. The only thing stopping them is Socqueline, who legitimately kicks the phone out of Chloe's hands.

This leads into why Marinette is so bad at confessions. After a year of being harassed, bullied, and isolated, she takes a chance on love, and is only horrifically and publicly mocked. Her attitude towards Adrien makes more sense with this context - deeply and passionately loving him, but constantly hesitating on the last step, as last time was so devastating. She's got some severe trauma around confessing and connecting with love interests, as she assumes they're always going to mock her in the end.

I really wish this episode had been planned earlier in the series, because it DOES give good insight as to how bad Marinette had it, and would've been great context for the audience. Not long after, Socqueline had to move away, too, so Marinette had to rebuild her entire social network from the ground up, with several people in the class who didn't mind humiliating her for their own amusement.

Also I really liked Chat Noir/Adrien going sicko mode on Kim. PLEASE kill that boy Adrien. I am BEGGING YOU. He tries to cataclysm Kim in the fucking face. I was thrilled. I thrive off negativity

Using this as groundwork in the dad villain au, having all that shit happen to Marinette alongside losing Sabine essentially made her go "wow I am going to quit school and work at my dad's business. bye" which is super ironic because that is ALL gabriel wants adrien to do lmao

[powerfulblob]

puts on my clown hat

behold, as requested: The Trans Franky Essay. Like most of this is still jot notes and I wrote this when half-asleep so like. I don’t know

Please don’t shoot me.

Section 0: Most importantly...

Due to the Somerton stuff, I really am trying my best not to plagarize.

Unlike TikTok user @theyboss._.franky, I’m not planning to talk about if he’s trans based on physical features, personality, etc.

I’m here to talk about the narrative in particular, and allegory.

also kudos to @punkitt-is-here

[ID: A screenshot of an X post by @punkittdev that reads “this is also partially why i am a franky one piece trans man truther” It features Franky, a cyborg with a shirt that reads “I HRT”.with a sun between the words “I” and “HRT” Franky is a tall man with tan skin and blue hair, and has part of his arms replaced with blue metal with a star at the end. end ID]

Section 1: Cyborgs are inherently trans

I’m literally just going to link The transgender cyborg: an inexhaustive primer because the article does a much better job than I can, but to summarize:

Trans people are not only cyborg-adjacent because of the transphobes who call us that, but primarily because we are used in the same way cyborgs are in text: As a talking point, a disruptive metaphor about humanity as a whole.

That brings us onto the next place...

Section 2: Cyborgs are extra trans in this case.

The reason why I latched onto this in the first place is this character’s backstory.

Franky, who eventually becomes the Straw Hat’s shipwright, starts as a joke character in the Water Seven Arc.

He’s a 40-ish year old man who runs around in a speedo and shoots lasers at people, making a living off of dismantling ships.

However, as more information is revealed, the story starts to humanize and give him a backstory.

quotes from Chapter 358:

“My body got wrecked and parts of it weren’t working anymore... So I transformed myself using scrap metal. It’s how I survived!” 

“Waste wood, scrap iron... I fit right in. First I’ve got to... ... Do something about this useless body of mine!” 

What do these have in common? Retrofitting the self, and rebuilding the body. I think there’s something trans there but IDK

Deadnames (partially joking here): As said by another character “Cutty Flam of Tom’s Workers is dead. As long as you don’t use that name... ... There’s nothing connecting us”  (for context, Franky was changing his name to evade government capture, but shhh let’s just pretend we’re talking about deadnames)

Actual Section 2: The Boats are trans now

speaking of the self as a construct...

I think it would be giving Oda too much credit for doing this on purpose.

But, he also accidentally created one of the best analogies I’ve ever heard for gender identity and against gender essentialism:

And of course, it has to be boats.

chapter 353: “Franky, there’s no such thing as blueprints for a pirate ship!! If the sailors who board that ship run up a skull-and-crossbones, then it’s a pirate ship. If they fly a seagull flag, it’s a navy ship. Build whatever you want to build, Franky.”

Like again: It’s the idea that there’s no instructions for a person, it’s what you decide to create out of oneself?

Alright. So, in terms of most manga, he actually does a rather good job. One Piece is primarily a series about misfits and outcasts: The series is goofy and over-the-top as a rule. So, one could argue the extreme way in which he portrays trans people up until the Wano arc is just a part of the series.

yeah idk

[thecoolerliauditore]

do you have a specific thing you'd like to talk about but haven't found the opportunity (analysis/observations/anything else) etc? if so can you respond to this ask with that :3 and if not you can share some images you'd like to post or something

alright finally calling on this

Let's talk about Wild Life alliances and "family". (long post)

"family" is a word that gets repeatedly thrown around this season and, unlike in LimL, it's not just limited to being one group's running gag. While the Clockers parodied the family dynamic, Wild Life alliances revolve more around the concept of family itself, and the differences in how each player treats that word can be viewed as telling of their own understanding of "family".

The most noticeable example of family as a theme in WL is from Joel, who literally looks into the camera and says that's what his theme is going to be this season.

Joel's understanding of "family" is, in a lot of ways, a little shallow. First of all he's doing it all within the context of Fast and Furious references, which is funny but on a character level could be seen as him mimicking media instead of really understanding what he's doing.

His "family" with Gem doesn't really operate any differently from any other alliance he's had -- if anything, his behaviour changes in relation to people outside of Gem are infinitely more notable. All throughout the season he has gone out of his way to be helpful, such as when he teaches Skizz to crit, or teaches Tango about the effectiveness of lava buckets due to the gimmick, or when he helps BET rebuild their trap that they just tried to kill him with.

Even more notable are his interactions with Jimmy, who DID kill him, but he remains amicable to even after yelling at him that he hated him just an episode ago (for, again, trying to kill him).

This all goes back to Joel's original monologue that bought up the family theming in the first place -- to Joel, family look out for eachother, are nice to eachother and put eachother first (not completely unlike what Scott values, which I'll get to in a sec). But he's not actually doing this for "family", he's being nice so that people are less likely to kill him, and he believes embracing "family" and being nicer will help him perform better.

What Joel actually wants is to shed his antagonism, so he's gone the opposite direction into being super nice and forgiving. "Family" is more or less a filler concept to help him realise it.

But Gem, on the other hand, has a very different approach to "family". When she asks Etho to the family, she expects loyalty and when he allows Pearl to grab food from Gem's barn, Gem scolds him and lets him know "we're not friends with Pearl".

Gem's idea of "family" is a lot more concrete than Joels i.e. she naturally expects to be listened to and to move as a unit.

"Control" is an interesting factor in terms of Gem's behaviour in this season, as she seems to believe it's a vital aspect to "family", as seen previously with her scolding Etho. She also yells at Scar for letting Jimmy threaten to kill Joel, telling him "no! we're supposed to be family!" and to "control your guy!"

Which is, strangely, reminiscent of a conversation she had with Scott where she asked him to "control" Pearl as well.

Maybe it's due to Gem being newer and therefore more naive or the fact that the use of the word "family" was spearheaded by Joel and Gem simply adopted it, but it's curious to me where the line between "family" and "alliance" are for Gem. It's hard to tell for sure because her control in Gem and the Scotts really was never challenged until Scott's permadeath, and tasks like the zombie task literally put her in control, but it is interesting to me that she is much more verbal about her allies behaviour now than she was before (<-- footnote: this might be partially because she is allied with Etho right now who is insane this season)

She also is the one that tends to say stuff relating specifically to family out of the two as well, such as "family don't steal from eachother!" and so on.

Gem likes to lead and be in control, and that attitude is reflected in the way she talks about family. I for one would love to see an instance where Gem is the one who needs to be "controlled", I think it'd be enlightening. Right now she feels to me like a kid parroting things adults have told her, since she is absolutely a more rebellious spirit and challenges when people who Aren't her have more control than she thinks they ought to (such as when Etho mentions building his base out of copper and she asks him why he has to listen to Bdubs).

Speaking of family and control, that brings us to the big heavy hitter faction, GGG(GG).

Early on, Impulse declares the alliance to be his family and since then, although the word "family" itself hasn't popped up as much compared to Gem and Joel, it certainly has been paraphrased. i.e. Scott's compared himself twice now to a parental figure, once more generally and the second time specifically towards Pearl. He also labels Cleo as the other parent, which quietly acknowledges their place as the alliance's pseudo-leadership.

Impulse saying this is. Dubious to me at best, since he says this and then goes on to be his usual, independently moving self after this episode. He even agrees with Pearl to keep his farm a secret from Scott and Cleo, which isn't very "family-like" at all.

We know from the past that Impulse is a good liar and has a more or less traditional view on family if his DL run with Bdubs is anything to go by. I do think Impulse has some weirdness attached to emotional investment in his alliances, most evident I think in TIES and Gem and the Scotts, but in this case. Ehhh I'm not an Impulse guy I can't draw any conclusion there, but it sure is a strange thing to say!

There is of course also Scott literally saying to Pearl "we're family, whether you want it or not" -- which is quite curious because Pearl Isn't Actually Scott's family. She does have a choice to leave, yet that isn't framed as a possibility.

I think the lines between alliance and family are very blurred for Scott specifically, who quickly named Jimmy as his husband (aka family) in 3L with very little hesitation and claims he "loves everyone". Scott genuinely believes his love for his death game teammates is comparable to that of a family and, possibly enabled through Impulse's words, has become a lot more brazen about it.

Like Gem, I think Scott sees control as a necessary aspect in order for families to function, and as such follows his infantilization of Pearl both through the blatant comparisons of her to a child in his care and through him saying in roundabout ways that she is too emotional to be trusted or too immature/impulsive in her decision-making.

I have relatively less to say about Cleo despite her being Mother Clocker which you'd think would make her more relevant to this discussion, but afaik she's been more or less dodging the "parent" stuff that Scott has been dipping into. Maybe it has something to do with Scott's very detached sitcom-esque perception of what motherhood entails, maybe she's like Etho and has shut it all out after LimL, eitherway lmao.

In short: alliance = family --> those who subscribe apply their concepts of family (e.g. control/discipline, emotional investment) onto their alliances --> dynamics get weird as many who meant to come out with an attitude of "I care for -- or even love -- my teammates" get morphed into treating their teammates as Literally their children or siblings

One alliance that entirely and utterly rejects the "alliance = family" notion is BET (I refuse to write "Tuff Guys" for the entirety of this post).

Right out of the gate they establish that they are more roommates than ride or die, and that everyone will betray eachother eventually anyway. They also yell and bicker and talk behind eachother's backs almost constantly, to the point where other people even pick up that they don't see to like eachother.

So it's interesting to me that BET.. Do care for eachother, despite what they say, but it's almost always hidden under non-acknowledgement (Etho protecting Bdubs from a skeleton, Bdubs trying to save Etho in the slow-mo fight at the beginning of episode 4) or balanced out with verbally ripping eachother to shreds right afterwards (Etho trying to help Tango get a kill and yelling at him for being incompetent when he fails repeatedly).

It's like, if they really are "every man for themselves", why help Tango at all?

When it comes down to it, BET have chosen eachother over other alliances -- even ones that they are "family" with, when Etho lures Joel and Gem over to Tango's trap.

One conversation between the three I don't see bought up much is them half-mocking Etho displaying the flower he got from Gem, I think it was Bdubs who pointed out that the flower would be useless if it weren't for Etho putting worth into it by showing he values it, and that once you show that you value something, people will see it as something they can take from you.

This, to me, is very telling when combined with how they have insisted they don't care for one another this season -- if they don't value eachother as allies in the first place, they can't lose eachother as allies.

It's the polar opposite of the "family loves eachother" approach to alliances, and "control" over eachother's actions only becomes relevant when things get desperate and all of them are involved.

Once again using the example of Gem telling Etho he "doesn't have to listen to Bdubs" -- I think it's interesting that Gem assumes that Bdubs is making Etho build out of copper, when in reality Etho asked Bdubs for a suggestion, Bdubs said copper as a joke (and later even reacted in shock when Etho took him seriously) and Etho's gone the full 100 miles with it. As well as the fact that Etho completely dodges that part of Gem's sentence, leaving her in ignorance of the fact he willfully listened to Bdubs -- of the fact he /valued/ Bdubs' input.

I hesitate to say more for now but I am excited to see how this develops and what brand of emotional attachment to one's teammates will come out ontop.

Anyway. Rambly post done. This means absolutely nothing have a good day. Freud would have things to say about this

[bigassmoonchild]

Talk

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

The previous part gives context for this story. Please read it so you aren't confused on anything. The rest isn't necessary.

Summary: Nothing had ever hurt you this bad. Your Alpha walked out on you, the only thing you could think was that your Alpha had abandoned you and your pup. And all you could think about was the pain you'd gone through because of it. Simon wasn't in any better shape.

Content Tags: Hurt, Mild Comfort, Angst, Ghost is shit at communicating, And shit with emotions, Price is the voice of reason, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No use of Y/N

A/N: I got sick and my sinuses are shot. Here's some more Maple Syrup, feel free to send in asks or request to be added to the tag list. As always, content under the tag and my asks are open <3.

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

The second you heard the door open, you'd spun. It hadn't been seconds since you made your announcement to the hearing committee when Simon walked out. You could feel your heart sinking and your eyes moved to find Price, who was staring back after him. You could hear murmurs from the committee and you turned to look at them.

"This hearing is dismissed. When we receive the results, we will meet back then. Until then, you and Mr. Riley will no longer be separated. We will send you a message once we receive the results," you nodded, looking back before picking up your things.

As you walked out, Price pulled you to the side. You could feel your throat closing, your eyes watering as you stood there. Your Alpha walked out on you, hearing you might be pregnant. He walked out on yourself and your pup.

"You didn't tell him?"

"How the hell was I supposed to tell him?" You growled at Price. "Homing pigeon?" He scoffed, looking away. "We were both babysat 24 hours a day, Price, there was literally no way for us to talk," you shook your head, looking away, a few tears falling from your eyes.

Price pulled you into him, resting his chin on yours. "I'm sure he left to think. He's probably just as overwhelmed as you, I'll try to find him so I can talk to him," Price whispered to you, rocking the two of you side to side.

Quite honestly, you were terrified. All you could think was that your Alpha didn't want you anymore, that he would find out how to break your bond and do it so he didn't have to deal with you. At some point, Price had led you to your room and left you alone.

You'd moved to lay in your nest but saw all of Simons shirts and hoodies still in there. Sitting on your bed, you stared at it, debating on whether or not you take them out. You could feel the tears pouring down your face, heart dropping in your stomach as you thought about it.

He really didn't want you, did he? He hadn't lied when he initially said it was a mistake, everything had been a lie, was his name really Simon? All you knew was his face and his code-name, and all you could do was sit there, silently crying. You could feel your muscles tensing and untensing, body shaking.

And so you moved, grabbing his clothes and other items you had collected of his and pulling them out of your nest. When you got halfway through, you'd broken down, sobbing.

Alpha hates you.

You felt like you were going to throw up, you could hear whines coming from your chest. You dug through it, though, tossing his clothes out of your nest and finding some of your own shirts and blankets you had stockpiled for this exact reason.

Rebuilding your nest had never been harder. It was supposed to be where you and Si- Ghost would have slept, where you would have taken care of your pups. It was where you were supposed to grow old, where you'd eventually pass together.

Apparently, he didn't want any of that. Did he ever? You didn't want to think about this anymore, and so you curled up in your nest and tried to sleep it off, but how could you? You wanted to leave. Really, really badly.

There was nowhere to go, but you needed to move. You got up and left the room, walking through the halls as you moved aimlessly. You wanted nothing more than to curl up with your Alpha but all you knew was that he didn't want you.

You found yourself in the rec room the 141 often used and Soap and Gaz stared at you. You knew you looked horrible, hair beyond fucked and face puffy from the crying. Jesus, how many times would this man make you cry like this?

"What happened?" Soap went up to you, pulling you to sit between him and Gaz on the couch before grabbing you a glass of water. "Why're ye crying?"

"Ghost," and Soap scoffed, Gaz laying himself across you, trying to get you to relax and Soap moved next to you, forming a small pack pile. You were hiccupping as you cried, trying to get through the sentence. "Fucking walked out of the hearing room after I said I might be pregnant to the committee just to get his ass outta trouble," you could hear them groan, felt them chuffing (and you thought you heard purring from one of them) against you to try and soothe you.

No matter what, you'd integrated yourself into Ghosts pack and he wouldn't be able to get rid of you. "It'll be alright. He's just in his head," you could feel the tears drying again as the noises surrounding you calmed you somewhat.

Without your Alpha, though, you weren't sure what to do. You'd be tossed to the side, any Omega who was abandoned by their Alpha was deemed disgusting. A waste. Someone who wasn't worth a pack, someone who would have to work little jobs to just survive. Someone who could get taken without anyone noticing.

Just another body on the streets trying to get by. You didn't want that, especially if you were actually pregnant with a pup. Your Alpha was supposed to be by your side no matter what, he was supposed to help you when you needed it and you were supposed to care for him.

Ghost didn't want you. He would get rid of you, he would leave you on the streets and would get rid of your bond mark, would take a better Omega. Find someone better. Find someone who was worthy of his bite, someone who wouldn't drop bombs on him without at least trying to alert him to what was happening.

You didn't know it, but you'd fallen asleep at some point, waking up to see Simon sitting across from you. Price was there, arms crossed and leaning against the wall as the two waited for you to wake up.

"You'll need to talk," Price said.

Simon was still walking outside when he smelled Price not too far from him. He paused, turning back and watching as he caught up, falling in pace together and just walking. Price checked his watch, pulling a cigar out of his jacket pocket and lighting it.

"I don't think you realize how hurt your Omega is," Price said around the cigar, smelling the anger and distress in Simons scent spiking. He let out a grunt, hands stuffing themselves in his pockets. "Walking out wasn't the best choice. The boys have her in a pack pile, they're trying to soothe her for you," he added, seeing Simons eyes flicker to him for a moment.

With a shrug, Simon looked away. "Doesn't matter to me, I don't want to be a father," that wasn't true. Simon knew it, and Price would eventually find that out too. Simon wanted to be with his Omega, scent her when he could.

"They rescinded the babysitters, you know," all Simon wanted to do was curl up in your nest with you, scent marking you all over and remarking you. It'd been nearly a month since he was last able to, and that's all that he wanted.

Price sighed, grabbing his arm to pull him to a stop. Simon looked away, tugging his arm out of Price's hold. He pulled a cigarette out, tugging his balaclava up enough for him to get his mouth on it and then lighting it, inhaling deeply before pulling it out of his mouth.

The two stood, staring at the squads doing drills in the distance. They didn't say anything, just existing together, both deep in thought.

Simon wanted to find you and apologize, he wants to comfort you. He wants to hold you and hide you away with him so nothing like this ever happens again.

He wants a life with you, a home to go to when you two could get leave. He wants pups, he wants to see you round after he was able to breed you good and hard. He wanted to be there for you, take care of you in and out of your heat, he wanted to take you on dates and get to know you better.

He wanted to meet your family.

Price was watching him, the gaze Simon had was distant. Eyes unblinking and staring through people rather than at them. Price almost knew exactly what Simon was thinking, having gone through just about the exact same thing.

Not same circumstance, but same thought process. I can't have pups, I'll turn out like they think I will. I'll end up hurting them, they're too good for what I do. I can't put them in danger because they have no choice. It was horrible to think about it, but even Price thought of leaving his Omega.

Dropping everything and running, leaving all the money he had saved up with his Omega to care for their pup. But he didn't, he found people to talk to and was able to get through it. Simon needed that person, and god be damned he would be it.

"Talk with her, you need to figure out what you're going to do. I have pups of my own, I promise you that there is nothing this military won't do to keep them safe," he said, pulling Simons out of his thoughts.

Simon shook his head, opening his mouth to speak before Price cut him off.

"I am telling you this because I went through the same thing. You have people around you to help, you won't turn out the same father you think you will. Things happen, and you'll figure it out as you go," Price said and he could see as Simons face fell, realization of his actions finally hitting him.

He abandoned his Omega, and all he wanted to do was fix it. Fix his mistakes and make sure that you would never be hurt how he just hurt you. There was nothing he wouldn't do to fix this, and he would fix this.

Price led him to where you'd been, Soap having left him a message that you were with him and Gaz well before he'd found Simon. He knew that they would be short with Simon, he knew that they wouldn't want to leave you.

So he'd made them leave. Told them that he would be standing right there and wouldn't let anything happen. Had to make sure that they knew that you would be safe.

You didn't look at Ghost. Your eyes finding more interest in the carpet, or the wall by Price. Neither of you talked for a few long moments, you didn't want to say anything and Ghost wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm sorry," was all he said and your wrist found your gland, rubbing harshly against it. You could smell his distress, watching you scent yourself. All you could tell was that he didn't seem like he regretted anything. "I'm so scared," it was nearly a mockery of those words you'd used with him when trying to figure out what would happen next after you'd been bonded to him.

He could smell distress on your scent after he said that, head dropping down as he slowly realized what he'd said. "I didn't know what to do, I don't know how to be a parent," he whispered to you.

"And you think I do?" You hissed at him, legs pulling into your body as you wound your arms around them. "You think I'm not just as scared? I'm here, trying to help you get out of this mess you're in, and you're just abandoning me?"

He didn't look at you, not at all. Not a glance, all he could do was scent the different emotions flowing through you.

He opened his mouth again. "I didn't have a good family life, so I don't know how to go about all of it," he explained shortly. "I don't know what to do," he whispered softly.

You finally looked at him, his eyes downcast and his shoulder slumped in, elbows on his knees. You could taste the hurt in his scent, but you didn't want anything to do with it.

Alpha walked out on you.

"I just want to fix what I did,"

"I don't know if you can."

His eyes shut tight, jaw clenching as the hurt in his scent became all you could taste. His hands were shaking and you were just looking at him.

"You've hurt me so much, Ghost, and I can't always let you get away with it," you explained, fingers pulling at the skin near you nails. "I can't keep going through this up and down with you, it's not healthy," there was almost nothing you could say. Nothing you could think that he could do to get back to where he'd been.

"Just let me try, it's all I need," you looked at Price, who had a solemn look on his face. You could see it in his face, the faint whispers of let him try coming off of him. You didn't know what to do. "I can start over again, I'll court you again just tell me what I can do to fix it,"

You had to blink tears out of your eyes. You wanted to curl up with Alpha, let him hold you in your nest and sit there and be safe with him. You wanted to go back and take everything you'd said back. You wanted to restart. You wished you could have, you regretting this, you wanted to change that.

All you could do was shake your head, looking away. "I honestly don't know," you whispered, voice cracking. "I'm so beyond hurt right now, and you're the only person responsible for it," he looked up at you, eyes watery as panic became evident.

He looked away, you could see his throat working as he swallowed.

"Are you regretting this?" He asked and you felt your heart drop. Your brows furrowed, you wished you could go back and change things you'd done, but did you regret being mated with him?

"No," and it was nothing short of the truth. You genuinely cared for him, maybe not love, but he was your Alpha. You didn't want to change anything about it. "You're my Alpha, and I wouldn't change that for anything. I just don't know what to do to fix this pain," your voice grew distant, eyes gazing away from him.

He cleared his throat, leaning back. "I understand," he whispered. "I just regret what I've done. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I didn't know what to do," you couldn't look at him, the pain in his voice was already hurting you more than him walking out.

"I don't know what to do, either, but we can't keep doing this back and forth. We can't keep running from our problems," he nodded, clearing his throat.

He stood, wiping his hands on his pants. "I'll be in my room, if you need anything," he nodded to Price and walked out. You couldn't say anything, the only thing you wanted to do was climb back into your nest and try and forget everything that happened.

When you got back to your room, you sat on your bed and stared at the clothes from Simon you'd gotten that you'd scattered around the room. You picked them up, folding them and placing them on the desk in the corner of your room, hands not being able to leave the hoodie on top.

It was the most recent clothing item you'd had, and still had traces on his scent over it.

You put it back in your nest.

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@sae1kie

[1moreff-creator]

Select Two, Choose One: How will the Culprit get Found?

Since the latest DRDT chapter seems to have narrowed down the suspect list to just two people, many have speculated on how exactly the cast is going to pin down the correct suspect, and whether or not the audience has the tools to do so. I thought I’d throw my hat in the ring too! And while I’m still really 50/50 split, there is one piece of evidence that could change the murder method… in a way that points us to the culprit. Very inconclusive evidence, but it’s there. Let’s get into it.

Spoilers up to CH2 EP14. CW: Hanging, murder, blood, Eden and Ace!Culprit discussion

As a starting point, I’ll assume that the deduction that the culprit must be one of Eden or Ace is accurate, to simplify things if nothing else.

I will start with what I’ll call “meta only” arguments. In other words, things that characters can’t reliably use to narrow down the suspect, but that we the audience can take into consideration for theory-crafting.

-Mindset post-Nico murder attempt: Immediately after Nico runs out of the gym, the killer needs to be in the correct mindset to grab the tape, and they also need to be able to more or less figure out what Nico did to replicate it with Arei. Although, importantly, the killer doesn’t need to come up with the full plan on the spot, and they don’t need to fully understand what Nico was doing. At the end of the day, the only real similarities are the general idea of a pulley and a hanging.

Here’s more or less the train of thought Eden might have had if she’s the killer.

Eden: Hmm… The fan is broken and there was wire on it, Ace’s neck looks cut… Maybe Nico used some kind of pulley to hang him and it broke? Maybe I could do that… This tape looks useful for that.

Meanwhile, since Ace woke up in the middle of the murder attempt, he has to do a little less deducing.

Ace: Did I just get knocked- HOLY SHIT NICO IS HANGING ME WITH SOME SORT OF FUCKING SPINNING DEVICE AAAA-! Ooh, tape! :D

The actual planning of a murder would come later in the morning for Ace, once he sits down and has A Thought about it. Grabbing the tape in that context seems insane, but there may be precedent for Ace being prone to stealing the weirdest shit (we’ll get to it), so…

I think both of these are plausible. I wouldn’t say either can be disqualified like this, so we keep looking.

-Ripping/reconstructing the note: The note to Arei was ripped up and thrown into the trash, then Eden, Rose and Whit put it together.

Ace has no real reason to destroy the note, he could have just left it as it was. Maybe throw it in the trash since “it’s what Eden would have done”, but destroying it runs the risk of people not being able to put it together to point at Eden/Arturo. Although, you could argue Ace was trying to frame Nico specifically, so the note wasn’t useful and he threw it away because it made sense in his mind.

Here’s where we get introduced to a pretty big problem of having Ace as a suspect; that thing Teruko said, that sometimes assuming people will always act logically is a bad idea. Ace is the prime example; a lot of shit in this case makes a lot more sense if you assume Ace did it because he’s not smart enough to notice the problems with it. Such as using the method to frame Nico when only a few people in the class know what the method is; he maybe wouldn’t have noticed that that could point towards him as well. Ace is erratic, it’s very difficult to pin down why he does half the shit he does.

Eden, at least, makes sense. By destroying the note, then rebuilding it herself, she throws off suspicion with the exact argument she used in the trial; if she’s the killer, why do that? Just leaving the note as it is runs the risk of someone finding it and presenting it, which removes that argument, meaning tearing it is imperative.

And she would want the class to find it, not just because it makes her look more innocent if she talks about a building friendship with Arei, but because the note is where we get the “7:30” time, which combined with the fish making people think the murder was at nighttime, appears to give Eden an alibi.

In conclusion, the note being ripped makes more sense with Eden as the culprit… but it doesn’t disqualify Ace because he’s an idiot. And speaking of that…

-Fish Paradox: As outlined in my Ep13 murder theory revision, the problem with the fish is that everyone who benefits from the fish being at the crime scene only benefits if they have an alibi for nighttime, but that coincides with the time the fish disappeared, as Nico fed them and counted all of them after having dinner, so they couldn’t have taken it. Meanwhile, people like Ace who could have taken the fish, wouldn’t have a reason to as they don’t benefit from the nighttime alibi.

Except, it’s fucking Ace. It’s genuinely possible he thought people would see fish and instantly jump on Nico for some reason. See the problems that arise when you can no longer assume the killer is acting rationally?

Anyways, inconclusive (we’ll talk Eden later).

-No blood on tape: This heavily depends on exactly how Ace could grabbed the tape. His hands sorta get covered in blood instantly, so it’s hard to imagine he’d be able to do that without staining the entire roll of tape with blood. He couldn’t have easily washed it, either, since he passes out shortly after, and the blood would have likely dried by the time he woke up. This is definitely a point towards Eden, but can the cast use this? I don’t think so, because it relies on what we saw during the episode, which is not easy to prove in a trial setting.

-Dialogue and trial behavior: This one’s difficult, and as you might expect, inconclusive.

I would argue Eden has a higher amount of outright suspicious lines (“Teruko, wait—“ haunts me), but she also has a higher amount of seemingly anti-suspicious lines that make her look very innocent (see: the entire speech at the end of Ep 14).

She also has a moment where she steers the trial in the right direction by denying that Arei could have committed assisted suicide, but it’s worth remembering that if the class thinks that’s what happened and they learn of Eden’s relationship with her, they might assume Arei and Eden worked together to get Eden out. In other words, by denying the notion of assisted suicide, Eden!Culprit avoids the class reaching the right conclusion through the wrong method. Of course, if she’s innocent, it’s just genuine.

Comparatively, Ace operates at a much more stable level of suspiciousness I can only call “Ace level.” He’s constantly throwing suspicion on Nico, who the killer seemingly tried to frame with the method; he kept David and Arei’s conversation hidden; and was one of the first to jump on the “David’s the culprit” bandwagon. In a vacuum, this is super suspicious; hell, Levi was the fandom’s prime suspect for less.

But… it’s Ace. His behavior isn’t too different from the first trial. So while it’s possible he’s doing all this because he’s the culprit, it’s also possible he’s just being Ace.

Impossible to tell, I fear.

-Eden’s Night 2 paranoia: You might recall Eden being very worried someone was following her in night 2, which could suggest she was doing something suspicious (eg setting up the ball of clothes, more on this later) and was scared she’d get found out.

The problem is that there’s a perfectly fine explanation for Spotless!Eden. This is the night after her confrontation with Arturo, and Teruko did enter the same room as her; she could have just been paranoid because of the former, and felt someone was following her because of the latter. Moot point.

(I don’t think anyone else was following Eden because Teruko would have presumably seen them. Then again, I have overestimated our protag’s perceptiveness in the past)

-Eden’s strength: Eden is the weakest of the cast, so it’s very possible that half the Arei murder method is just impossible for her. But… we can’t know for absolutely sure what “weakest of the cast” means, and it’s not evidence that can be used in a trial. Ignorable.

-Motive, character writing and themes: I’m lumping these in together because I’ll give the same answer to all of them: the dev can just add an explanation in the inevitable post-trial trauma dump. We don’t know absolutely everything there is to know about these characters, or the way the narrative is going, so it’s impossible to confidently argue based on this. Physical evidence will always take precedence over these things in my books.

And that kinda settles it for that. There’s minor arguments like “Eden won’t die before we explore the Fork CG” (well, Xander did, so) or “if the Scrum Debate is Ace vs Eden then Ace is probably safe” (we don’t know what the Scrum Debate will be), but I’ll skip them to get to the more pressing matters.

That being trial-worthy evidence. What can the most dysfunctional cast of any fangan ever (/affectionate) use to fully commit to a culprit?

-Fish Alibi: If Ace has the problem of “no reason to bring fish,” Eden has the problem that her alibi literally starts directly after dinner. If Nico ate dinner with her and Hu, she couldn’t have taken the fish.

Except, of course, Nico could have had dinner earlier, and this point is completely moot. We can’t know yet.

-BDA: This is very obviously not what the cast will use to come to the conclusion given the discussions we’ve had, but I’ll bring it up anyways. This was explained in the episode though, so…

-Playground floor: sorastar6’s idea; since the floor of the playground is made of the same stuff as the relax room, it’d become sticky after getting wet from the water in the jugs, and thus, the culprit could have some stuck to their shoe. Unfortunately for some of you, we can’t easily look at the cast’s feet all the time, so this would only work for the characters, not us. However, Hu does mention heels as an example of something that can scuff the floor, and Ace wears heels, so small point to him.

-Missing glove: I still have no idea where this thing went. My only guess would be that the killer removed it to more easily put tape on Arei’s wrists, but by the time they’d strung her up, they decided putting the glove back on would take too much time (? I have no concept of how hard it’s be to properly put a glove on a dead person’s hand), and they wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. If true, that would mean they still have the glove on them, as it wasn’t in the trash. Again, if I’m right about this, the cast can use this, we can’t.

-Random garbage:

Something here. Rose would remember everything about it, so it’s usable. Maybe Ace’s gloves were damaged and he had to use the needle and thread to fix them? Maybe one of those napkins is the cloth with turpentine Nico used and only Ace would have identified and used it (assuming it wouldn’t have dried and MonoTV wouldn’t have thrown it out for some reason)? What even is that pink paper thing? Who knows.

-Ball of clothes: Held together by something Teruko identified as starch, there’s been around three hundred theories involving this thing. The only one that’s actually incriminating (for the two possibilities being discussed) is thebadjoe’s idea of the starch being from the enriched formula of the relax room, which could implicate Eden as she was acting suspiciously around the dress-up room on night 2.

I’ve seen it argued that the clothes would be dirty in that case, but that can be solved with an extra layer of clothes under the clothes that actually get starched up, which would later be either discarded, washed, or simply put inside the ball itself.

(This might be the last murder diagram I make for this case. Holy shit I can’t believe that)

Which is all well and good, but this is still ultimately assuming both that the cast has some way of making sure Ace couldn’t have done this, which I’m not sure exists, and that the starch comes from the relax room in the first place.

Because something I learnt, like, last week, is that people put starch on clothes. Like that’s a thing they do. So it’s entirely possible there’s starch for clothes in the dress-up room and anyone could have done this. If that’s the case, this cannot be used to argue at all. I don’t love the idea, since we don’t know if there really is starch there or not, but it’s there.

-Grammar: The letter to Arei pretty famously misspells “responsibel” (responsible), has horrible punctuation, etc. It’s possible someone in the trial will realize, ask Ace and Eden to spell the word, and whoever gets it right is cleared. We can’t know, but it’s a possibility. This also has the benefit of being obscenely funny.

-Custom weapon: If the killer used their custom weapon, it may point to them as guilty, as only they have access to it. However, I fail to see how a riding crop (Ace) or a wrench (Eden) would help in the slightest.

There is, however, one more item that only one of these characters has access to. And while I am very unsure of this assumption, if you ask me right now what is the decisive piece of evidence that will close the case once and for all, I will tell you:

-The shoulder band thingy:

Ace: Too fucking bad. Mine now. I’m keeping it.

Yep. This one.

For starters, remember that thing I said about the tape? That Ace has precedent of stealing completely random shit for no reason, and so it’s plausible he grabbed the tape just because? This is the precedent.

More importantly though, it’s something only Ace has access to, so if it can be determined it was used in the crime scene, it’s curtains.

And there is actually one place I could see it being used. Followers of my method theories know that, through the fire and the flames, there’s been one deduction that’s remain constant: the rope was tied to the ball of clothes, which was thrown over the railings to get the rope as high as needed. The ball also hit the lights, displacing the bulb and causing it to flicker.

(He he I snuck the image into a fourth post >:D)

I’ve always sorta assumed DRDT takes place in a physics exercise where air drag is ignored, but it’s true that this might be harder than I’ve been presenting it as.

So, we get the use for the shoulder band; a slingshot. I’m unsure on how it would be constructed (swingset maybe? seesaw?), but the idea is that. Create a slingshot, throw the clothes, badabim badabum, Ace is the culprit.

I’m not the only one to think of this btw. Reddit user (yes we’re cross-platforming for this) Makatrull seems to have arrived at the same conclusion. Great minds think alike ig.

Of course, this comes with its own issues. Mainly, how do you connect the shoulder band to the crime scene? The only way I see that happening is if the cast determines this is literally the only way the lights get broken, which… yeah, I’m gonna have to let them do the math on that one.

It’s impossible to judge without existing in the DRDT world. Is the ceiling higher than I’d previously assumed? Then it’s possible to come to this conclusion. Is it lower, and possible that even Eden would have managed to just throw the ball over the railing? Certainly. So, for now, inconclusive. When I say it’s the most likely to be the decisive evidence, I mean by like, 0.1%, I really have no clue.

———

There’s probably more, but that’s all I can think of for now.

Seeing as we’re reaching the end, I’m gonna say that regardless of the outcome, this might be one of my favorite trials in all of both canon and fan-made Danganronpa. So much shit happened. I’ll save my full thoughts for a more dedicated post, but goddamn, I can’t wait to see the conclusion!

Hope you enjoyed! If you made it this far, you deserve a shoulder band thing. Do with it as you please. See you!

[raayllum]

I think another reason the 5x01 throne room scene and Rayla's reaction to it hits so hard is because I think it's the moment she realized, truly, that Callum still loves her in just the same manner he 'used' to.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure she hoped

and she states in 4x03 her belief that "I risked losing," not that she's fully lost it / him. She still tries to flirt a tiny bit and seems sure that once they talk and he gets it all out, they can start rebuilding (Rayla being an optimist about very little but an optimist about him? It's so sweet). Which makes sense — Callum was the first kind of unconditional love she'd truly experienced and he was nothing if not persistent in bond building with her throughout all their various ups and downs on both ends. Rayla's persistent faith in him is one of the main reasons their relationship works to the degree it does (his devotion to her being the other end of things).

But I'm sure there are still moments in S4 she worried and doubted that things would ever be the same, and she was still surprised when he finally embraced her in spite of her almost dying

Yeah. But maybe, would it be okay if I stay? And we just... don't talk?

And we get to 5x01, where we know their relationship is a lot better — they're basically sharing a room, chatting regularly, finding her in his study isn't surprising ("she can go in there anytime she wants"), Callum's talking about magic, they're confiding in each other — and Rayla is still awful at asking for help, and now she's been caught in a situation that admittedly looks very bad from the outside. It's also not looking great even from the inside!

But Callum has turned his corner (thank you 4x09 "I know" scene) and he will never be turning back — and he recites love poetry that makes no sense to Opeli, but Rayla has the full context for.

And this is also why I don't think we cut back to her reaction until the final line drop (beyond it just being really effective as an emotional beat), because if it was just that he trusted her — well, "None of this matters" and "If she didn't tell me, she has a good reason" would suffice, wouldn't it? But he's not just saying that he trusts her (which she arguably knew in 4x07, since he trusted her with his fears and his safety net game plan), and they both know what he's saying in full.

And she loves him all the more for it.

[alchemistc]

goon | bucktommy | chapter three

check out the hockey glossary here (updated for chapter two)

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two

read Chapter Three on ao3

Tommy's got a plan for the break. It's the same plan as he has every year: spend six days losing every bit of conditioning he's managed to gain over the course of the season by slowly becoming one with his couch, catch up on all the shitty shows he's been neglecting, eat his weight in potato chips and ice cream. Then he'll have one day before practice starts up again where he does weight training so long he wants to throw up, and back to the grind. The usual.

He gets the text as he's rebuilding his nest on the couch, three quarters of the way through day three, and for a long long moment he considers ignoring it.

His phone vibrates on the table again, and Tommy stares apologetically at the movie already queued up to play.

Drinks at Rare Bird tonight. says the text from Chimney, and then, below it, See you at eight. Love Actually can wait

Not a question mark to be found, and he's about to point that out when another text comes in, this time from Ravi.

You have to come tonight

No additional context, again. He's - not exactly unfamiliar with becoming the anchor for an anxious kid trying to find his place - a little mentorship, a little wing-manning, a lot like the guy who'll sit there and just be steady and quiet when someone is overwhelmed and needs a focus point. Panikkar is calm on the surface and an absolute nightmare right under it, a stunning swan with little webbed feet kicking up a storm underneath where all his vulnerabilities are laid bare. Tommy's used to cracking a terrible joke just to force someone so breathless with laughter they forget they'd been holding it, and he's used to that person immediately finding themselves at ease around him.

He has no fucking clue how the front office had known to look for someone to fill that role on the team, but it's become very clear over the course of the last month or so that this in one of the hand-wavey intangibles he's been brought in for.

And Greenway getting traded two days before the All-Star break had fundamentally changed something in the locker room.

There’s always a clique situation in a league like this — D-Pairs like Buckley and Diaz spending so much time together they have their own language that’s incomprehensible to anyone who hasn’t known them as long as they’ve known each other; stars like McKinley and all the guys he’s convinced the front office to sign because he can make them fit the play style they’re going for; the group of guys that jump between third and fourth lines with their heads on a swivel for the first opportunity to take a stab at more minutes; the boys living in their buddies basement apartment and the ones who own a McMansion somewhere in a gated community half an hour away from the rink.

Greenway had made the cliques circle in, shore up for the storm. And Tommy’s an easy-going guy, gets along well with everyone, but — something had lifted, the day they got the news, some tension easing, the groups getting a little less exclusive even just in the single game they’d played after he was gone. There’s no one for Tommy to say “I told you so” to, but he’d patted himself on the back for knowing it, anyway.

Tommy's trying to convince himself not to cave to Ravi and Chim when another text comes in, this one from Diaz.

We're taking bets on which turn Buck's gonna eat shit on this year, you in?

Christ, they live eat and breathe the game.

Tommy's not any better.

Twenty bucks says he beefs it on the third turn, Tommy sends back, before turning off the television and heading towards the shower.

---

There’s a certain artistry to meeting up for drinks with teammates. The dynamics of running into fans has changed, over the years. The social media boom had made it a nightmare for a few years, and Tommy’d spent about five of them walking and talking the faces of the league through panic attacks and generalized anxiety like he was a damn therapist, before he’d discovered that just telling them to go to fucking therapy was enough.

He’d seen a switch after finally escaping the Edmonton bubble, in a world that had spent eight months dialed in to social issues and gained a startling awareness of personal space, so it was a little easier, now, to roll into a bar and meet up with three or four guys without crowds of people demanding selfies. Tommy wasn’t likely to be on anyone’s radar, but he tended to be noticed out in public when he was out with everyone’s favorite.

Today he rolls up with Eddie Diaz in the passenger seat of his truck and hands his keys to the valet. The kid is still sporting a face full of acne, a foot shorter than Tommy and eyeing Diaz curiously as he swivels out of his seat, and Tommy has a moment where he’s sure the kid is gonna forget himself and gush about everyone’s second-favorite d-man in this town, but when his eyes go wide his gaze flicks from Diaz back to Tommy, and Tommy feels completely out of his depth.

“I — sorry, this is so rude, dude, but — you’re my sisters favorite player, man. She’s like, obsessed with you.”

Tommy’s brows go up, and he can feel Eddie’s eyes on the back of his neck as he points at his own chest. “Me?”

“Yeah, man — I mean she sorta hated you when you were with the Kings, but in a weird, like, ero —.” He pauses, and Tommy is grateful for the both of them. “Anyway. She was super excited when we signed you. We were at the St. Louis game. Fucking epic, man.”

Tommy — flounders. It’s been years since he’s gotten anything more than a look of recognition and a glance behind him to see if anyone else has tagged along with him. When Diaz rounds the hood of the truck and smacks a hand firmly down on Tommy’s shoulder, the kid smiles and redirects his gaze straight to Tommy. Which is weird as fuck. What the hell is in the water in this state?

“Thanks,” Tommy says, and Eddie grins charmingly at the kid.

“That’s Kinard, for you. Fuckin’ epic.”

The kid does something complicated with his face, like he’s realized some sort of gaffe, and turns an apologetic look on Eddie. “You’re also, like — I mean you’re great, Mr. Diaz.”

Tommy can’t hide the snort that escapes when Diaz’s face twitches, like he’s trying his very hardest not to react to the name. The kid looks like he’d like the ground to open him up and swallow him whole, so Tommy reaches into his back pocket, pulls a twenty from his wallet, and slaps it in the kids hand before he can say anything else. “Just in case your shift ends before we’re back,” he says, when the kid opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, and Tommy makes a mental note to ask the manager for his name, maybe send the kid a couple tickets to their next home game. Not that the seats need filling, in Denver, but — yeah, he’s a little flattered and it’s always fun to make someone’s day with shit like that.

Tommy shoots the kid finger guns as they say their goodbyes, about half to make the kid feel less self-conscious and half because he’s never been able to break the habit when he’s feeling a little overwhelmed himself. “Tell your sister I said hi,” Tommy says, and it’s Eddie’s turn to snort as they swing through the doors in search of the rest of their party.

---

Ravi’s hands go up the moment he spots them being led through the crowd by the hostess, and he does a celebratory little dance in his seat before he seems to realize his fingers are covered in nacho cheese. Chimney rolls his eyes from Ravi’s left as he reaches for one of the linen napkins on the table, and the woman sitting next to Chimney smiles.

He’d forgotten Chimney was engaged. The last time he’d spent any length of time with Chim, he’d been seeing a girl who didn’t know a single true thing about him.

She’s pretty — long dark hair and deep brown eyes, a quirk to her lips as she smiles at him that feels vaguely familiar, though he can’t quite place it. When he leans in to shake her hand, she introduces herself as Maddie Buckley.

Which he’d known, in the abstract. Of course he’d known, he’s heard Chim and Buck chirping at each other good naturedly for weeks now, really leaning into the idea that they’re soon to be brothers.

She tilts her head to the side, eyes on him as he settles in next to Ravi, Eddie pulling out the chair to his left, and Tommy recognizes that mannerism too — sitting in the locker room after optionals, Buckley already done with his after-practice workout and parked on the bench a few feet away from Tommy (who’d spent the same half hour on the ice taking passes on the move, trying like hell to find a rhythm that could help him keep up with Panikkar) plying him for stories about the year he’d played for the Hershey Bears.

They’re well situated to watch the skills competition, tucked into a corner with a television hanging overhead in every direction, all of them tuned into the pre-show, and as a server comes by to grab their drink orders Tommy stares around the table at the piles and piles of starters laid out and covering most of the available surface area. Chimney clocks his raised brow.

“Listen, there are only so many times a year I’m not under constant threat of death and dismemberment from my future brother-in-law if I so much as think of junk food. Ravi and I are going to enjoy this while we can.”

Maddie tsks. “He’s not that bad,” she intones, although she’s smiling like she’s conjuring a fond memory of her brother being an absolute terror. And it’s not that he hasn’t heard these stories before — Buckley’s sort of renowned for the health-nut thing around the league — but Tommy had also downed three cream cheese pastries with his coffee on the walk back to their hotel rooms, back in Utah, and Buckley hadn’t said a word.

“It’s the silent judging that really gets to you,” Eddie throws in, head tilted up towards one of the TV’s, where they’re showing highlights from the last few All Star competitions.

“He’s never silently judged me in his life,” Ravi contradicts, digging deep into the nachos in search of the strip of chicken buried under the pile. “He’s very loud about it. Whoever gave that man an iPad and Karen Wilson’s spreadsheets should be drawn and quartered.”

“Oooh, are we talking shit about Buckley?” comes a voice from his left, and Lucy Donato sneaks past him to snag a chip from Ravi’s plate.

Donato is technically the most decorated athlete of the lot of them — three golds and a bronze in women’s hockey, Tommy doesn’t have a fucking clue why she’s been an equipment manager for the team for going on four years now but the team loves her, and she seems to enjoy the work. Maybe it’s the roar of the crowd, maybe it’s the camaraderie, maybe the fact that she’d grown up with four brothers factors into it and she’s just happy to have that lovingly antagonistic relationship with the boys again.

“Is this is a safe space to remind everyone that it is not my fault Taylor Kelly wrote that tell-all article for the Athletic?”

At Tommy’s side, Eddie makes a face. “We don’t have to talk about her.”

He’s used to being a little out of the loop, when it comes to the intricacies of team dynamics — every team has groupings of people who live in each others pockets for eight to ten months out of the year, and know a little too much about one another. Tommy’s used to being a witness to it from the outside, to being the aloof mysterious one someone is always bound and determined to crack.

“We could talk about Marisol, if you want,” Lucy says, licking cheese off her finger as she settles into the seat to Ravi’s right, and Eddie shoots her a warning look. “How about Kim?”

“Okay,” Chim interrupts when Eddie opens his mouth to retort. “Hen’s late, but we are still taking bets. Tommy’s got the third turn, my lovely future wife and Eddie are both naïve optimists who think he’s going to learn from last years embarrassment and make it all the way to the end without letting the pressure get to him, I’m going first turn when he tries to build momentum. Ravi, Donato?”

Tommy lets the conversation wash over him. When his drink comes, he doesn’t even get a chance to sip at it before Donato is leaning over the table to steal his spear of cherries. Hen gives the bar-food laden table a raised brow when she arrives with her wife and jumps right into giving Panikkar shit about the condo he’s trying to purchase in one of the nearly-gentrified neighborhoods downtown. When the pre-show ends fifteen minutes later they all turn their attention to the televisions overhead, and Tommy sips at his Old Fashioned, wishing he’d ordered a beer instead.

There’s an element to nights like these that always make Tommy a little wistful. There’s so much history between them all, so much love. Tommy’s not lacking for friends, but he’s never really been a part of something like this. Like family.

When the server comes around to check in about another round, Tommy asks for the beer menu and orders himself an IPA. Anything to keep him from getting too loose-lipped as they cheer on Buckley and McKinley in their skills events.

Buckley eats shit around the third turn in the speed skate, and in his pocket Tommy’s phone buzzes with Venmo notifications as rest of the table grumbles and pays up.

He’s halfway through his second beer, two rounds into the precision shot competition, when Donato rounds on him.

“So. Kinard.”

“Donato.”

Her gaze is assessing, like she’s trying to pin him down, and Tommy has played this game for too many years to do anything but take a steady sip of his beer. “Thoughts on upcoming theme nights?”

Tommy doesn’t particularly pay attention to those. After the shitstorm of the commissioner banning Pride gear, confirming to Tommy that he’d been right, all those years ago, to lean into the toxicity, he’d stopped caring what sweater the equipment team left in his locker for warmups and just tried his best to keep his head down. He spends a long moment holding eye contact, unsure what exactly the line of questioning is about, before Eddie chimes in on his left.

“You do this every time,” he says, finger out, head tipped warningly, and Lucy shrugs, arms up in a gesture of surrender.

“Just trying to take the pulse of things, Jesus. I’m the one that has to deal with it if one of you fucknuts gets too enthusiastic and tapes his stick up in rainbow colors and he throws a tantrum about it.”

Hen and Karen both swivel their eyes to meet his, and the table goes uncomfortably still. He’d been leaning into the misogyny, the last time he’d played for a team Hen worked for, and he’s still not sure if she’d ever noticed how lackluster the comments had been, how close he’d been to finally breaking free of a truly mindbogglingly shitty coaching staff. They’d ended on friendly terms, but other than a few polite questions about her wife, they’ve never really talked about any of that.

Maddie, shockingly, is the one who breaks through the tension. “You went to the Pride parade in Nashville last summer, didn’t you? Buck always makes a note of the guys that do.”

He’d been terrified out of his fucking mind that someone would come to the outlandish (correct) conclusion that he was there as more than an ally, but Tommy didn’t shit where he ate, and Josi drew plenty more attention than he did, anyway.

Tommy nods. “I can tape my own stick and everything,” he says to Donato, brow raised, and she just nods back, apparently satisfied. It’s a relief, even if Karen Wilson has a curious eye on the finger he’s been nervously tapping against his beer since the original question had been posed. He keeps up the tapping for a few more beats.

“Always good to have another ally in the mix,” Hen says, doing something under the table that makes Karen glance away, and Tommy shifts the nerves into pressing his heel firmly into the floor beneath him. He feels like they’re all talking in riddles, trying to piece him together with faulty information, and for a moment, in this little bubble with people who seem to genuinely care for each other, he thinks it’d be easy to just let the cat out of the bag, say the words he’s had on the tip of his tongue for a decade, and in his heart for at least three.

Beside him, Eddie takes another pull off his beer, leans in to Tommy’s side. “Come watch the game at my place tomorrow? Just me and Chris, the rest of these idiots are doing brunch before coaches shindig.”

Tommy sort of desperately wants to tell him that he has a date with his television that he’s already skipped once, but — well, he likes Eddie, and it’d be nice to finally meet his kid. “Will Christopher snitch on us if I bring pizza?”

Eddie grins. “He absolutely will, but Buck’s wrath isn’t enough to stop me. Is it enough to stop you?”

Possibly, Tommy thinks, but instead of admitting that he just asks Eddie to text him his son’s toppings preferences.

---

On the bedside table, his phone lights up, and Tommy turns to grab it, keying in his passcode and frowning at the name on his notifications.

He swipes into his messages and stares at the text for a long, long minute.

Tommy’s never actually come out to anyone in his life. Never said the words, never had them asked — but there are a few people that have figured it out on their own, a few people who have done the work of supporting him while keeping it under wraps.

Sid’s sent him a picture. Not the usual one where it’s mostly his ass in a mirror followed by the number of squats he’s been doing daily. This is a terrible quality photo, shitty lighting in a dark bar, half the screen taken over by a hairy arm because of the angle the camera is tipped at. It’s four in the morning in Tampa, and Sidney motherfucking Crosby has just sent him a selfie of himself with his arm tossed over Evan Buckley’s shoulders.

Both of them are grinning, faces cast in shadow, eyes towards the camera, and Tommy taps into the picture so he can zoom in, stare at the smile lines around his eyes, the edges of a grin — Sid’s smug look like he knows exactly what Tommy had been thinking when he’d asked him to reach out to Buck.

He stares at it until another text comes in.

You should reconsider how off-limits this one is, he won’t shut up about you. Your name has lost all meaning to me.

Tommy swallows. Breathes through his nose, in-out-in-out. Slides his gaze back to the wide smile and rosy cheeks of Evan Buckley, one more time.

Go to bed, old man, he shoots back and closes out the thread.

He stares at the background on his phone: the crest of the hiking trail he’d found, two weeks ago, on a recommendation from Diaz, which he’d hit right at sunset, pinks and oranges and purples bleeding in to the chilly grey-blue sky.

His phone buzzes with another notification, this time from Buck. Tommy considers ignoring it, letting it sit unread at the very least until the morning. His phone buzzes a second time, and then a third.

The first is another picture — better angle, better lighting, better quality in general, exact same pose, including Sid’s knowing eyebrow and the soft sparkle of Buck’s eyes.

You can fly a helicopter? the first text reads, and then, all caps, YOU FLEW CROSBY IN A HELICOPTER ONCE????

Like an idiot, Tommy taps into the picture, presses down, saves it to his phone, and flips back into the thread just in time for another text.

You bet on me falling :(

You WON on me falling :( :(

He should absolutely put his phone down and go the fuck to sleep, but on the off chance that Buckley is stlll hanging out with Crosby, he doesn’t want to ignore Buck. That’d just be rude.

Used the winnings to buy a kid and his sister a suite for the next home game, he shoots back, and ignores the little thrill that shoots down his spine when three dots immediately appear right beneath his text.

That’s annoyingly sweet

Tommy breathes deep. Four-o-nine AM in Tampa. They’ve got a game that starts in less than twelve hours, there. He sends back: Selfish. The sister is apparently my biggest fan.

I’M your biggest fan, comes the text, followed by typing dots. They disappear, then reappear, then disappear again. Tommy doesn’t mean to time it, but thirty seven seconds later they appear again.

Let me know where they’re sitting. I’ll have someone send them your sweater.

then

You wanna sign it first?

Tommy takes a deep breath, and presses the call button.

[kesia-stupid-arts]

Post-Constant AU Masterpost: What happened to each survivor after they left the Constant?

If you're falling by parachutes here, this is an AU (Alternative Universe) elaborated by me and very biased, imagining what would happen to each survivor after they leave the Constant, so none of this is canon (but I wish it would be). I made this also to give context to some of my comics.

Context: This all happens when they reach the Ancient Gateway and it brings them back to Earth, all of them ended up at the same place, somewhere on the United States... And they have to return home. 6 years have passed since the last survivor mysteriously disappeared (reminder that the survivors probably got abducted at different times), around 1926~1930.

By the way, I will be considering DST survivors only (except Wilba) since the DLCs barely have lore about them, I find it hard to elaborate.

After you read, feel free to send an ask if you have any suggestions or critic!

For each survivor:

Starting by survivors who stayed at the Constant:

Wurt - She stays at the Constant to create her Merm empire that she dreamed about.

Wilba - In her thirst for adventure she always had, she ends up finding the way for the main land in Constant (the one the survivors were at), and (unfortunately for her), the place that the Merms rules. She eventually became friends with Wurt and they created an alliance between Pigs and Merms.

Wortox - Wortox actually occasionally jumps between the two worlds. He sometimes checks on Wurt, and sometimes go to Earth to bother and prank other survivors.

Wagstaff - ███ ███ ███ █████ ███ ███████ ███ ██ ████ ████

Characters who left the Constant (I will leave Max and Wes for last because they're the ones who I elaborated the most, I wonder why.)

Wilson, WX and Wormwood - Wilson returns to his lab and returns to his scientific experiments, trying to keep away from forbidden knowledge (he has learned his lesson). He keeps WX and Wormwood with him, to keep them out of trouble, as the world is not yet ready to meet a talking plant, and he keeps WX from taking over the world. With the help of both, but most especially the leftover knowledge from Woodrow, he becomes a successful scientist, he reforms his old lab to make it an actual home.

Warly - Warly returns to his Maman, who is now cured of her dementia, thanks to Maxwell. (See here: Link) He goes back into being a successful chef in France, moving with his mom.

Wickerbottom and Wanda - Wickerbottom returns to her home, and tries to rebuild her library with the knowledge she acquired from the books (without the forbidden knowledge). Wanda gets cured of her constantly age problem, and no longer needs to use her clocks, she is currently around the same age as Wickerbottom, and has to get used to age normally. She occasionally helps Wickerbottom with her books, which is kind of a boring job, but it's fine because she doesn't need to rush anymore.

Wolfgang and Woodie - I didn't elaborate much on these two, basically, Wolfgang goes back to being a strongman, and Woodie goes back to his home with his lumberjack job, he now has control over his curse, and only uses it when it's convenient.

Walter - Walter returns to his mom and officially adopts Woby (they don't have Monster Meat anymore so Woby is just a regular dog), back to his badge collecting! Walter sometimes visits Webber and he loves it because there's so many bugs.

Webber - Speaking of Webber, he's back to his mom and dad. His dad actually likes his new form, because he loves bugs (or arthropods, to be exact). He helps his dad eventually, as he can communicate with regular spiders, which helps his dad to study them better. As Webber grows up, he takes his father's office and becomes an entomologist, specialized in spiders.

Wendy - Wendy goes back to her dad, but unfortunately, she no longer has Abigail. Jack and Wendy are more united than ever, since they're the last family they have. (I will elaborate more on Maxwell's session).

Wigfrid - As Wigfrid's saga is over, the actress goes back to being a star, she wants to expand on her roles a bit.

Willow - Willow goes to live with Wigfrid, but Wigfrid's personality is very different from her actress, Willow feels like she's living with a stranger, instead of the girl she fell in love with. (See here: Link) She eventually moves from Wigfrid and re-meets Charlie. (See here: Link)

Winona - Winona goes back to her home now that she finally found her sister. She works now on a different company, since Voxola has gone bankrupt without Wagstaff, she's basically the CEO (and she hired Genny).

Charlie - Charlie is no longer the Shadow Queen, she now travels and explores the world like she always wished. She occasionally visits her sister to not leave her worried. She still has some sequels of her time as shadow queen...

Maxwell and Wes - After they left the Constant, Maxwell takes Wendy back to her dad, because he was her only family at the time. Maxwell brought Wendy back to Jack, and he welcomed them both happily, Wendy and Maxwell decided to not give too much details on what happened, and Jack decided he didn't want to know either, at least not at that moment, he was just happy to have his family back. Wes didn't go with Maxwell, due to some conflict after he found out Maxwell was working with Charlie during their last days in Constant. Maxwell was also conflicted internally, because he couldn't decide if he wanted to go back to Charlie, or stay with Wes. After a conversation with Charlie, he decided that their relationship could not work anymore after all that happened, and after they realize they don’t feel anything romantic for each other, Maxwell searches for Wes. Wes is back in France, he was having trouble to make a living after his room was sold during his absence, he had to find another job that is not a street performer, Warly helped him to get a job in the restaurant he works on, but he didn't have much luck due to his speech impediment. Wes was miserable, poor, and heartbroken. Maxwell knocks on his door one day, and they have a chat (mostly Maxwell does the talk, duh), and they make amends, and go back to being in a relationship after they accept they really love each other, and that they want their relationship to be more than an emotional-dependent mess. Maxwell brings Wes to live with him and his brother, but he decides it's best to move out with Wes and get their own home, since his presence was making Wendy feel bad (despite their collaboration in the Constant, Wendy can't help but to feel a bit of a grudge against him).

That's it for all, I think I'm not forgetting anyone, sorry if I forget your fav! And sorry for having too vague stories about Woodie, Wolfgang and Walter, they are characters who don't have their lore explored too much and they are characters I barely play as, despite the fact I like their characters very much, so I had a bit of trouble elaboraring stuff for them. There's also a few things I have to decided about Wilson's career, but I'm keeping the fact that he adopts WX and Wormwood LOL

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Unbound

Part 6 - Numb, But I Still Feel It

Series Summary - Not having a mating bond didn't stop the love Azriel and Celeste have for each other or their commitment. When an unknown magic lingering from Celeste's past causes her to lose all memories of the last century, will they be able to rebuild their life without a bond tethering them together?

Word Count - 6.6k

Warnings - mentions/description of scars, allusions to past DV, feelings of body dysmorphia, panic attack, vomiting, memory loss.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

The voices and whispers from the room just on the other side of the half open door had guttered out into the silence of sleep. Or at least one of them had. Cassian sat unmoving, feeling along the bond in his chest, surveying Nes on the other side. She remained still but alert. Keeping watch over Celeste after assuring her of her safety and watching her drift into much needed sleep. With the greatest of care, Cas lowered his mental shields into place, closing off the bond.

Still unmoving, leaned forward in his chair, elbows on knees, he breathed in deeply. With the release of breath, he ran his calloused palms over his face before sweeping them through his disheveled hair. The last few hours had drained them all. After Celeste had woken from her sedation, Nesta had taken hold of the situation. Alone in that room with her, she had spent the last hours calming her and talking with her, pulling at whatever threads of context she could gather. 

Cassian on the other hand had assigned himself the task of handling his brother. The one still sitting perfectly unmoving next to him in the darkened hallway. The hush of night had filled the space once more as they sat there, processing all they had overheard. It wasn’t just what Cas had heard that was eating away slowly inside him, but what he had seen. This wasn’t the time, that he knew. But the crawling dread within him crept ever higher in his throat.

The thick, twisted scars that adorned Celeste’s back, long healed over and pale against her tanned skin, flashed into view even as he closed his eyes. The image of his arm slipping through that slitted shirt back, revealing her long held secret, continued to flash through his mind no matter how forcefully he had tried to shove it away. That brief moment as he had hauled Celeste’s fighting body off of Selah just before she fell into drugged sleep, looping without end.  

“You should have told me,” Cas whispered in a rasp as he turned to stare at the male beside him.

Unstirring and silent, Azriel didn’t respond. 

Anger flashed within him before being washed over with sorrow. “You should have told me, Az,” he choked out before the tears could form. 

Azriel’s body lifted into movement. Although swift, his movements were silent as he stood, reaching past Cassian and pulling the bedroom door shut with a soft click. 

“It wasn’t my place,” he said defeated, not bothering to look up from the floor.

“I never would have said the things I did if I had known, Az,” Cassian pleaded. “I never would have teased her like that.”

Az slid his gaze up to his brother’s pleading face before him. “I know,” he said quietly.

Cassian picked up a circuiting pace a short distance down the hall and back, hands occasionally pulling through his hair. 

“All those times I joked around. About how her and Nes can't fly or winnow. How they have to be hauled around by us. It was a joke,” he wailed. The memory of just how many times over the last century he had said those things knocked him hard in the gut as the tears flowed freely. “I was just reminding her of what she lost. Over and over.”

His pacing continued, the occasional sob breaking the heavy quiet of the hallway as Azriel remained silent, not even watching his brother’s movements.

“That’s why – Fuck!,” Cas burst out, quickly catching himself and lowering his voice. “You should have told me,” he gritted out, moving closer to Az’s face. 

Just as he spun around to continue his worried steps, Nesta slid through the doorway, closing the bedroom door behind her. Cassian’s side of the bond had released its regulated hold and she had felt his torment even before he had yelled. 

“It’s her story to tell, Cassian,” she offered into the space as he made his way back towards the two of them.

“And you,” he accused, eyes flaring wildly. “You knew too didn’t you?”

Choosing her battles wisely, Nesta remained silent as she stared at him softly.

“Of course you did,” he spat out at her. “My own mate.”

Disgusted and furious, Cas halted his pacing. Turning to face them both head on, he flicked his gaze between the two of them, calculating. Nesta felt the bond thrumming as she was pummeled squarely in the chest with all of his anger and sorrow. She knew what was coming before he did and braced herself.

“My own mate,” his words dripped with vitriol as he flung them from his lips. “My brother. Letting me make a fucking fool of myself and hurting Celeste in the process.” 

He turned once more as if to begin his pacing again before whirling around, finger pointing. “You should have told me,” he accused his mate, voice rising once more. Finger brushing against her chest, his face leaned closer to hers. “You of all people.”

“Cas. It wasn’t –,” Nesta started.

“I heard you the first time,” he seethed. Stepping back, his tearful glower encompassed them both, waiting. “She’s my friend too. I don’t just love her because of you two, you know.”

Before either one of them could offer a response, Cas slid his hulking frame down the wall behind him, hands pulling at his hair. “She's my friend too,” the words punctuated with his choking sobs. 

“I know,” Nesta soothed as she dropped to her knees beside him, pulling his arms and head into her body.

“Why didn’t she tell me?,” Cas wailed into his palms. “I thought she knew that I — I thought she knew.” The words were barely audible through the wracking cries that tore through him. 

Nesta had no words of comfort as she buried her face into his wild hair, her own tears falling on his head. 

Azriel had stayed stoically still as he watched the whole interaction. With a swallowed lump in his throat he finally spoke. “She does.”

His brother’s hazel eyes swung up, bright with emotion and the whites reddening. As soon as Cassian’s sight locked with his, Az felt his gut rolling violently, the pain of his brother clashing violently with his own. Before another word could be exchanged, Azriel turned on his heel and walked away, pulling his office door closed behind him. 

Well into the night their group gathered once more, crammed into Azriel’s office in order to be closer to the bedroom where Celeste lay sleeping again. The space was much smaller than the one furnished in the High Lord of the Night Court’s own home. It had never bothered Az, the need to compete with his brother in that way never crossed his mind, but now with all the bodies piled in here it felt suffocating. Azriel could only remember one other span of a day that had felt this long in all his centuries and he had wished then to never feel it again. This same time last night he had been holding his wife in sleep, curled around her in a tangle of limbs and now everything was hanging by a thread. 

He had purposely not taken the seat behind his own desk, not wanting to feel like he was reining control over this gathering, especially since he felt like he wasn’t in control of much of anything right now. No one else had taken the place either, Cassian instead pulling the chair from behind the desk and placing it cornered up to Azriel’s armchair. Clasping a gentle hand on his shoulder, Cas sank into the low back leather office chair, but didn’t speak a word. 

Rhys listened to the others settle in. Mor and Amren seated on the low settee, Marin standing behind them and Feyre and Nesta sitting stiffly on the sofa that sat beside Cassian and Az. Being the one usually in charge of these sort of meetings came naturally to Rhys, but this wasn’t his place now and he knew it. 

Replacing the glass stopper in the bottle, he strode over to Azriel who was hunched over, elbows on knees and held a glass of amber liquid by the rim loosely in front of his eyeline. Az didn’t budge. He just continued staring, eyes unfocused across the room.

Rhys followed the line of sight across the room to the bookcase lining the wall. Leather bound tomes and small knick-knacks littered the shelves, no doubt benefitting from Celeste’s decorating. His gaze fell to what he knew had captured Azriel’s thoughts. The mounted cast of two hands intertwined, one heavily scarred and the other bearing a braided ring along the thumb. His offer remained, hanging in the air between them before Cassian reached a slow hand out. He removed the glass from Rhys’ hold gently, settling the glass in his palm without ever removing his own gaze from his distraught brother’s face next to him.

Reluctantly clearing his throat, Rhysand turned to face the group from the front wall of the room. 

“Well now that we have a better idea of where she is at–mentally,” he began, twitching slightly at the uncomfortable topic. “We can reassess a bit and try to move forward with a plan.” 

He glanced in Nesta’s direction, catching her sight and mentally urging her to share what she had learned. Over the last few hours, before Celeste had relented into bone weary sleep, Nesta had sat with her, offering her constant reassurance of her safety and gently prodding for context.

“She seems to be stuck in her memory,” she dropped her held gaze with Rhys as Azriel shuddered next to her at the word stuck. She had purposely not used the word trapped, with all its implications given the situation, but that's how she felt about Celeste. She was trapped in her own mind. 

“Her mind seems to be convincing her she was still with Tyrik.” Azriel shuddered again, letting out a weak suffering noise that might have been attempting to be a growl. Nesta continued. “When she first woke up she was convinced she was still there. After talking with her some and reassuring her that she is safe, she seems to have remembered a bit more.”

She felt the collective hopeful stare of everyone’s eyes on her, baited for her to continue, but the one that burned the hottest was coming from beside her mate. She couldn’t turn to reassure him of anything, instead she continued. “She told me she vaguely remembers being able to escape, though the details are very muddled. She remembers a boat and getting seasick and feeling like the journey would never end.”

Swallowing the lump in her own throat, Nesta paused. Gathering the last bit of resolve she had from her exhausted body. “She remembers traveling for what felt like weeks until one night she was camping in the Night Court woods outside Velaris,” another wretched lump rose but she spoke around it. “The last thing she can recall was seeing the sky come alive with stars. More than she had ever seen before. And she said it was so magnificent that she knew she must be safe because nothing that beautiful would preside over a place filled with terror.” That determined lump refused to be swallowed and tears pricked her eyes.

Looking up at the rest of her family, she saw she wasn’t the only one. Not a single eye in the room was dry, not even Amren’s. 

Rhys remained standing at the head of the group, silent tears streaming down his face as he too stared blankly at the floor ahead of him, the ache inside his chest too heavy. Feyre reached a loving hand and grasped the one hanging limply at his side. 

“And what did you tell her?” Mor’s watery voice broke the tension. She had raced back as soon as she heard the news about Celeste’s emergency. “What does she know—about us?”

Azriel’s head swiveled up slowly taking in Nesta’s profile as she paused. He already knew what she was going to say. Even though he had insisted earlier that he wasn’t leaving Celeste’s side, with the help of Cassian, Nesta had convinced him that being in the room would do more harm than good. He had relented with the compromise to sit directly outside the open door with Cas at his side.

“I told her she was in Velaris–part of the Night Court.” Nesta continued. “That she was indeed safe. And she asked about all the faces she saw. She described what she remembered after waking up and I told her all of our names and just some general information about us. I told her that we all loved her and we're here to help her.” 

Nesta’s sight now fell to Azriel who was still staring a burning hole into her face. “I didn’t get too deeply into how she knows us,” her voice dropped with a sad tension. “I didn’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Probably for the best,” Rhys spoke, face still holding a lingering sadness but the tears were gone. “We should take it slow on urging any new memories forward, until we know what caused the seizure.”

Marin spoke up from behind the settee. “I didn’t detect any injury to her head. I don’t think the seizure was from any trauma. She just had a very mild bruise on the backside from during, but it certainly wasn’t anything to cause this–memory lapse.”

“But you still felt that energy, didn't you?” All eyes were on Azriel as his rough voice sounded. “Around her scar?”

“Yes,” Marin answered. “It was still there. But there was something different about it. A second energy that wasn’t there yesterday.”

Azriel’s eyes widened at the news.

“What energy?” Amren questioned, a curious gleam in her narrowed eye. 

“I felt–,” Marin screwed up her face in thought. “I’m not sure what I felt. But her scar has an energy, an old one, and I felt another one today too. It was new.”

Interest piqued, Rhysand asked. “But you think it’s some form of magic?”

“It’s definitely magic,” Marin said. “Just not one I’m familiar with.”

Mor twisted in her seat with a contemplative look upon her face. “You mean like a spell of some kind? Or a curse?”

A ripple of power flooded the space and a radius of shadowy mist now emanated from the other side of the room. Rhys quickly put himself between his mate and the source. Azriel.

“I think it’s worth looking into.” The command of the High Lord now in his voice. “I’ll contact Helion.”

The power had been immediately tamped down after that initial burst but the deep darkness of the shadows remained. A whirling boundary around the Spymaster. 

Everyone in the room took their cue and began filing out into the hall. Rhys remained behind until all but Cassian had left, assuring Az that he would let him know as soon as Helion had answered. When he received no response in return, he too left the room pulling the door gently closed behind him. 

Cassian unfolded an arm and reached out, placing his hand to Az’s shoulder in comfort. “Az, you know–”

“Leave me alone.” It wasn’t a request but a demand, Azriel’s voice deep and deadly.

While Cas was hardly ever without a joke or a smile, he knew when not to toe the line. Rising from his seat, he pressed the glass of whiskey he was still holding into Azriel’s palm and left. 

This time when Celeste awoke, it wasn’t a dream that pulled her into consciousness but instead it was the natural waking after a well rested night. Except when she slid her eyes open it actually was night. The pitch dark filled the room as opposed to the waning afternoon light it had been flooded with before. Turning her head slowly before shifting her body into movement Celeste saw the light from the adjoined bathroom burning, casting a dim glow into the bedroom. Beside her, Nesta was sprawled over two armchairs pushed together, sleeping deeply. The needs of Celeste’s bladder urged her to slip silently from the opposite side of the bed so as not to wake her. 

Standing before the sink while washing her hands, the image the mirror reflected back to her took her breath away. The rested face staring back at her couldn’t possibly be her own. Celeste brought her fingers up to touch her cheeks, watching as the reflection did the same. Rosy color was dappled along her cheekbones, her face fuller and brighter than she had ever seen it. 

When was the last time I looked in the mirror?

She couldn’t recall. Surely sometime before Tyrik had begun locking her away and even then her face had been bordering on gaunt. The dark circles she had expected to see were gone. With a feather light touch Celeste moved her fingers over her scar. The smooth healed skin felt strange against her fingertips. The last she could remember it had still felt raw and oozing, the edges jagged and tender. 

The conversation she had with Nesta when she had woken from sedation began to roll through her thoughts. Everything she had been told felt surreal. Nesta had reassured her over and over that she had escaped, she was safe, but Celeste had been at least partially convinced that the whole thing had been a dream. She had yearned for safety for so long that maybe this was her brain’s way of saving her sanity. 

Glancing toward the cracked door of the bathroom she recalled Nesta still sleeping in the room beyond. 

Maybe it wasn’t a dream after all. Nesta is still here. I am awake and alive and —

She couldn’t commit to thinking safe. She wasn’t convinced of that just yet. Seeing another mirror on the back of the bathroom door, Celeste approached it. This reflection showcased her entire body head to toe. Again, the shock of the differences caused her breath to shudder. 

The clothing she wore confused her. A long white cotton shirt obviously meant for someone much larger than herself. It reached nearly to her knees leaving her legs bare. As she yanked the garment over her head she noticed two long slits along the back, confusing her more. She cast the fabric aside onto the floor, more concerned with the reflection before her. 

Not only was her face fuller and filled out, her body was too. She could no longer see the indents of her ribs through her skin and her breasts were more rounded than she remembered. Running a hand over her chest she felt the weight of them, watching as the dark pink tips stiffened under her touch in the cold air of the room. She continued downward over her middle feeling the soft layer of tissue where lean muscle used to be. More scars dotted her skin there, but these were not scars from injury. Thin silver streaks were speckled over her lower stomach between her padded hips and down the sides of her thighs. Sliding free from the panties she was wearing she saw there was a folded crease of skin spanning from hip to hip. Celeste spun around craning her neck over her shoulder to view her backside. The globes of her bottom were filled out into round mounds. Celeste noticed a small jiggle as she grabbed one. Eyes raising to the large scars between her shoulders she saw that they too were healed. These were the same color as the stretch marks on her front, different from the red of her face, but healed all the same.

Feeling the tears pricking her eyes, Celeste faced forward again. She didn’t hate what she saw but it was different. So very different from what she remembered. The body before her was soft and strong, obviously well fed and well cared for. The thought of having enough to eat and strength in her body made her consider that maybe she really was safe here. Yet the feeling of not being in her own body was extremely disorienting. She stood there for a moment longer before grabbing the shirt and donning it again in preparation for returning to the bedroom.

Halfway across the floor she paused. She wasn’t tired. She didn’t want to sleep. The idea of crawling back into bed made her restless. 

I live here. Nesta said this is my house. 

If she truly was free then she should be free to explore her own house surely. She stood there frozen in place battling her indecision. It was only when she decided that knowing all her possible escape routes would be wise that she had convinced herself fully. 

Celeste surveyed the furniture in the room and found a large wardrobe with scrolling vines carved into the front. Seeming to be her best bet, she opened the doors to find what she needed. It may be her house but she certainly wasn’t about to walk around half naked with no pants. Finding what she was after, she slid into an impossibly soft pair that hugged her newfound curves like a glove. They didn’t feel overly tight but felt as if they were made just for her. The realization rattled her insistence that this had to be a dream once more. 

She made it into the hallway with light footed steps. Surveying her surroundings she decided to  stick to doors she found to be already ajar. Remembering the faces from the first time she woke, she wasn’t sure how many of them were still here in the house. The last thing she wanted was to startle someone awake before she could even explore.. 

“They are your friends, honey. Your family. We are all here because we care about you. You are safe here, I promise.” She had said.

Celeste had listened as Nesta rattled off everyone’s names and general information about them. She wanted to believe her. Desperately wanted to believe her. Nesta had answered every question she asked with certainty and directness. She hadn’t skirted around anything like Celeste would expect from someone who was hiding something. She had appreciated that. Even though it was a disorienting amount of information, Nesta’s calm and straight forward approach had made her feel better. 

Family or not, Celeste stuck to her decision to enter open doors only. Entering the first open door she came across led her into a large open room, the walls lined with shelves full of books. A cozy looking seating area was arranged toward one side in front of a large stone fireplace. The far wall was taken up with a massive picture window with a wide bench seat built in front of it. Approaching, Celeste saw that it looked over a cobblestone street below. A short iron fence bordered a patch of open grass with a walkway that led out onto the street. Across the road she saw homes lined up shoulder to shoulder with the same fences and tiny yards. 

Turning back to the room she trailed along the shelves. More books that she had ever seen in one place lined the three remaining walls. Small objects dotted the shelves in decoration in front of and between the books. The cast of a large male hand making a crude gesture made her smile but the red faux jewel set into the back didn’t make any sense to her. Along another shelf, running her fingers along the spines of the books, she encountered another hand. This one definitely belonged to a woman, long elegant fingers held so that the thumb and little finger held open the pages of a book. Glancing at her own hands she determined that it couldn’t be hers. She found her fingers to be thicker and slightly shorter than the ones displayed on the shelf. 

Rummaging through the desk Celeste hoped to find letters or a diary of some sort. Instead her search only produced piles of complicated schedules and stacks of medical supply lists written in her own handwriting. She had been told she was a highly skilled healer even working for the High Lord himself. A full body shudder rolled through her at the memory of his wild violet eyes as he had burst into her room. Finding nothing more of interest, Celeste replaced the papers in the drawers and slipped back into the hallway.

Just a few steps further down on the other side of the carpeted hallway was another open door. As she pushed it open slowly, Celeste heard a low rumble. It wasn’t coming from inside but from her own stomach. The meal Nesta had forced her to finish seemed so long ago. Maybe she really had slept through an entire day? Determining to find the kitchen after this room she carried on. 

The room appeared to be much the same and the one before it, just smaller. Shelves lined the side walls and a large floor to ceiling window along the back. Instead of a bench seat like the other room, a large sofa was positioned in front of it. The front wall contained the fireplace, a collection of chairs and couches spread before the hearth some of them obviously not meant for this room. Set directly behind them in the middle of the room was what drew her attention. A large ornate desk. The possibility that this one held more information had Celeste heading directly for it. 

Approaching the desk she reached out her hand but before she could make contact with anything on top of it she felt the quick coolness of a wisp of cold wind. It skated over the back of her hand and up her arm sending a shiver through her spine. Glancing quickly around the room  she couldn’t determine its source. Turning back to the desk she found a heavy crystal cut bottle weighing down a stack of papers. As she moved it aside and shuffled through them she didn’t find anything useful. Celeste didn’t recognize the maps she uncovered, the names dotting their borders didn’t ring any bells in her mind. Finding the drawers to all be locked, she turned her attention to the window behind her. 

The view from this side of the house showed a larger fenced area behind the house and a dense wooded landscape just outside its borders. But it was the view of the sky that really drew her eye. Celeste drew closer marveling at the inky blackness and the bright clear stars that showed so vividly within it. The sense of safety they had once brought her washed through her. Drinking in the calm that began to settle over her, she grabbed the back of the sofa to lean into it. This time it wasn’t the stars that took her breath away.

The feel of suede covered bone brushed against her fingers. Gasping loudly she drew back her hands, scattering the misty tendrils that had already gathered over them. Celeste peered down to the furniture before her and was met with a large membranous wing and light hazel eyes. As still as a statue, his own breaths coming out rapidly, Azriel stared back at her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Azriel said with a calmness he didn’t feel.

But she was scared. The shock of her discovery left her mouth hanging open and her voice frozen. A cold wash of fear flowed through her and slowly she backed away until her hips met the desk behind her. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” She was surprised that her voice had even come out audible as shaky as it was. 

Azriel gracefully lifted himself to standing from the sofa, his large palms facing her in an attempt to show he wasn’t a threat. Everything in her body told Celeste to run. His imposingly large form stood looming before her and the wings only added to his size. Sensing her rising panic, he pulled his wings in tightly in an effort to appear less formidable. 

Suddenly her brain kicked into gear forcing her to explain herself. “I was looking for the kitchen. That’s why I was wandering around.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself.” He said as he slowly dropped his arms to his sides, the strange shadows clinging to his arms. “This is your home.”

Watching his hands lower, her sight caught onto the glint of a blue jewel on the backsides of the leather gloves he wore. The same size and shape of the one she had seen on the hand cast in the other room just a different color. Before she could ponder the curiosity any further she caught sight of the shine of metal attached to his thigh. A dagger. The urge to run hit her full force in the chest, but her body remained stock still where she stood. 

Running means punishment.

Besides, she was no warrior. He was bigger but undoubtedly faster than her. Nesta had briefly explained Illyrians to her when she had asked about the winged males she remembered upon waking. Nesta had described her own Illyrian mate like a big puppy in battle leathers, but that gave her little comfort now. It wasn’t Nesta’s mate she had stumbled upon. 

“The kitchen is downstairs. Are you hungry?”

The obedience that had been beaten into her in the past forced her to answer his question even if it was just a subtle nod. That was the first lesson she had learned from Tyrik. Any question asked of her must be answered. 

The nod was all he got though. Azriel remained motionless as a solid minute ticked by in silence. 

“I can show you if you want.” He offered. He knew she would refuse but she still remained there, plastered against his desk. 

Wearing my shirt. The thought made his chest tighten.

“I can find it on my own.” Celeste’s voice had regained its stability, no longer shaking. 

Still she remained there. Azriel considered her as she stood before him, the sofa still between them as a buffer. He had heard her moving around the house before she entered his office. He had briefly considered winnowing away into the guest room he had claimed, but he was also curious about what she was doing. He had a fairly good idea why she hadn’t headed straight downstairs towards the most likely place to find the kitchen.

“The locks are keyed specifically to you,” he stated calmly. “You just have to press your thumb to the knobs.”

Her brows twitched in confusion. “Why would the kitchen be locked?”

“It isn’t.” He hesitated briefly, weighing whether he should point out that he knew what she was up to. “It’s always good to know your escape routes though. If I were in your situation I would want to know them too.”

Celeste wondered what situation he was referring to. Waking up terrified having lost all of her memories? Was there another reason she needed to know her escape routes? Was there something she didn’t know about the life she had woken up a part of?

“Why do you know so much about my house’s security?” She surprised herself with the boldness of her question. The second lesson she had learned? To never question Tyrik back. When no swift anger came from him, Celeste latched onto that boldness and held tight. “Nesta told me you are the High Lord’s spymaster. Is that part of the job? Knowing everyone’s defenses?”

Is that why he is here? To spy on me?

“No. It’s not part of the job. I just designed all the locks.” He desperately wanted to tell her he knew this because he lived here too. They shared this home together. Azriel knew he was treading into dangerous territory. Encouraging her to know her escape routes had already made her nervous, he could tell. 

But when? When exactly is a good time to break the news to her that she is my wife. Actively keeping that information from her feels wrong.

But before he could untangle the warring of his thoughts, the decision was made for him.

In an attempt to ease herself closer to the door, Celeste had shifted her body around the side of the desk. The stare she had held upon Azriel was broken and her gaze fell to the wall of shelves. Her eyes widened in astonishment. Shifting his own line of sight to what she saw had Azriel’s heart skipping several beats in a row. 

The heavy mounted cast of two intertwined hands stood front and center on the shelf she now approached. Slowly. Cautiously. Celeste glanced down at her own hand and then back up to the statue before her. The braided replica of a ring mounted on the cast of her thumb matched the one she briefly recalled on her own hand when she awoke the first time. Tucking her thumb into her palm, she felt for it. It was no longer there but that wasn’t important now. What was important was the second hand of the cast, the one that bore deep ridged scars over its surface, a shining blue gem on its back.

“Are we – are –” Celeste’s voice was nothing but a rasping scratch and her thumb now furiously worried at the space between her fingers. She whipped her head around to the face the hands belonged to and she found her voice again. 

“Are we mates?”

The astonishment on Azriel’s face matched her own, his eyes wide and bright. When his answer didn’t come immediately, she attempted to tug on the bond she expected to be there. She had no idea what she was feeling for but she didn’t think it would be hard to grasp. There was nothing there. 

“Not mates.” The deep timber of Azriel’s voice cracked. “There is no bond.”

Some of the tension in her body left as she stopped her futile effort at locating that thread. 

“But we are committed – married. I am your husband and you are my wife.” The loss of air in his chest did nothing to help his already cracking voice as he spoke that final word. 

“For how long?” she croaked out. She watched as the tension in his own body seemed to melt away as well, only to be replaced by a resigned sadness. 

“One hundred years last Solstice.”

The choking exhale that escaped her was nearly identical to the one she had made when Nesta had told her how many years of her memory she was missing. By her calculations that meant she had been in Velaris for nearly three decades before her marriage to her husband. 

Her husband.

The words crashed through her keyed up nervous system and she hunched over as she clamped her mouth shut in an effort to keep down what was threatening to come raging up. No other questions came to her mind, every thought had fled from her at that moment. It was the cool brush of mist against her ankles that shocked her back into her body. Feeling the void in her mind, Celeste did the only thing her body was telling her to do. 

Run.

The pull of Azriel’s shadow’s grabbed his attention before she had even made it the short distance to the stairs. He remained standing there, motionless aside from his heaving chest. The shock of what just happened had his own mind empty of thoughts. The shadows gave another insistent tug, intent on rushing after Celeste. Azriel just pulled the mental leash he had on them tighter. He didn’t want Celeste to feel like she was being followed or spied on. It was only when they responded by throwing an agitated fit in a swirl around his head that he dropped their hold. 

“Keep your distance.” His voice once again serious and deadly. 

Listening to the only thing his body was telling him, Az moved to the desk and grabbed the heavy crystal cut bottle. Noting the height of the liquid inside he sighed heavily. He would have to raid Rhys’ special stash if he kept up at this rate. 

A handful of errant shadows materialized with report that Celeste had given no thought to the food in the kitchen that Elain had spent the better part of the day preparing. Instead she tested out his information about the locks and had let herself into the back garden. 

Moving to the window Az watched, tucked into the corner so he wouldn’t be in sight if she looked up. The back gate was flung open and Celeste stood outside its boundary on the edge of the woods behind the house. He noted her arms grasping her body in an attempt to hug herself and her shoulders jumping from her sobs. He had already determined to himself that if she ran any further, he would follow. Even if it scared her he would go after her. Without her memories and with no context of who she was in this life he wouldn’t just let her flee. If she really wanted to leave he would allow her to do so, but only after he made sure she could do so safely. 

It was as Celeste dropped to her knees and emptied her stomach into the grass that he turned away. He couldn’t bear to watch her private suffering any longer. The chasm in his chest that Celeste had once forced him to open gave a sharp twist of pain that had him gasping for breath.

He didn’t need the whispers of the second band of shadows minutes later to tell him what he already knew. He heard her featherlight footsteps along the plush carpet of the stairs as she made her way back to their room. Confident that he no longer needed to be ready to run after her through the woods, Azriel turned instead back to the bottle in his hand and drained it dry. 

Celeste was eternally grateful to find Nesta still deep in slumber when she returned to her room. She was positive she couldn’t bear another interaction right now. The well rested feeling that she had woken up with mere hours before was obliterated and her descent into bed was far from graceful. Her stomach gave a nauseating grumble as Celeste yanked the covers over her head and pulled a pillow tight to her chest. She hadn’t given a second thought to the food she had passed in the kitchen and even now the thought of it sickened her. 

The urge to sob rose again in her tightening chest. But as she buried her face into the pillow she clutched, only a weary whine escaped her. Everything within her was tired and craved the oblivion sleep would bring. Pressing the pillow tighter to her mouth she allowed a couple more half hearted coughing sobs out. As she drew back some to allow herself a cleansing breath through her nose, the scent of the outside she had just returned from collided with her senses. 

The smell of a chill that only night cooled air could carry and the subtle hint of cedar wormed its way into her brain and set off that memory that felt more recent than it was. 

Safe. Her brain flashed in her thoughts.

No. I don’t know that yet. She warred back with herself. 

But that weariness returned. Her body, her mind, the very fiber of her being was tired. With one last shudder of a sob that never materialized she relented. Celeste allowed the draw of sleep to take her, still clutching the pillow to her chest as if it were the lifeline that kept her from dissociating entirely. 

@mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @chairofchaos @pit-and-the-pen @prythianpages

@weekendlusting @sarawritestories @ceoofyearning @i-am-infinite @tothestarsandwhateverend

[hephaestuscrew]

I have such emotional thoughts about Ep40 Limbo and Minkowski telling Eiffel "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't want it to matter. I was trying to make it not matter." It's such an insane thing to say about learning without any context or detail that your friend and crew member was convicted of kidnapping and child endangerment.

It's one thing to learn that someone did something awful and not to care because you don't care about them or their morals (the SI-5 approach). It's another thing to learn that someone did something awful and not to care because you can empathise with them and it's who they are now that matters (the Hera and Lovelace approach). And it's an entirely different thing to learn that someone did something awful and to want desperately not to care but to be unable to stop yourself from caring.

When there was no specificity to Eiffel's tragic backstory, Minkowski successfully made it not matter. Back in Ep15 What's Up Doc?, when Hilbert was hinting at Eiffel's secret that he wouldn't want Minkowski to know about, she trusted him with no "hesitance or doubt". In principle, on an abstract intellectual level, his past doesn't matter to her. But as soon as she has some of the specifics, her ability to trust him without question is shaken, because that trust isn't just about the abstract intellectual level. It's emotional too.

Eiffel really matters to Minkowski, so of course she doesn't want what she learned about his past to change that. But part of what matters to Minkowski about Eiffel is that she trusts him, that she believes that he does the morally right thing when it counts, and that he's the kind of person she thinks he is. The particular way in which he matters to her, when combined with her personality and her values, means that the bad things he's done in the past have to matter to her too. Because the way in which he matters to her is tied up in her sense of him as an ultimately moral person, the spokesperson of Team What's Wrong With Handcuffs.

In typical Minkowski fashion, she wants to make herself not care about it through sheer stubborn power of will. Maybe if she doesn't speak to him, she can pretend she doesn't know. Maybe if she pretends she doesn't know, she won't think about it. Maybe if she doesn't think about it, it won't matter to her. Maybe if it doesn't matter to her, then she can rebuild her idea of him as a good person on her own and she won't ever have to talk to him about it. But three months roll by, and it still matters to her. It still matters to her, and she still wants it not to.

[itsclydebitches]

I really want to take a moment to appreciate the conversation between Roy and Trent in 3x02, as a part of Ted Lasso's larger commentary on toxic masculinity.

Because these two are classic nerd/jock archetypes, yeah? (At least on the surface. The fact that they're far more complex than that is kinda the whole point.) Roy Kent is the handsome, talented, scariest motherfucker around, able to treat people like shit and still earn the devotion of the fans because he possesses the coveted Sports Skills. Trent, in contrast, is the queer kid who was never able to participate in sports himself, instead needing to turn to writing about them to find that in. As he tells Ted, for him sport is the metaphor and his words, delivered with an "edgy" style that pulls no punches, defend Trent in a way he's never been able to defend himself physically; they gain respect in a field where he'd otherwise be considered a joke. ("Is this a fucking joke?") Plus, given the implied backgrounds and present day characterization, I don't think it's much of a reach to believe that scathing articles like the one Trent wrote contain a certain amount of bitter satisfaction: Roy is "over-hyped," "mediocre," "disappointing," and driven by "rage." If that doesn't sound like a bullied kid finally getting back at all the jocks Roy represents, I don't know what does.

Notably, they repeat a version of this history during Trent's first week at Richmond. He's easily the most anxious we've ever seen him, jumping at loud noises, hands twitching in his pockets, very self-consciously trying to form a connection with the players and failing miserably. Trent is without his armor now - that of a high-profile journalist, safe behind his cutting words - and he's unable to rebuild any given that he's being denied the chance to write his stories. Why is that the case? Because top dog Roy Kent has decreed that no one talk to him. Now, we know based on Roy's characterization and what's revealed later in the episode that this is done out of a desire to protect his players from the abusive press, but outside of that context this looks a lot like the popular kid playing the part of a bully. Trent is the new kid entering class, being clocked as the outsider, briefly welcomed by someone with no prior bias (Dani)... and then that's shut down real fast from Roy. Funny as Ted Lasso is (and I was legitimately cracking up throughout the episode) there's also something extremely disquieting - in a very familiar way - at watching someone go from, "Hi! :D" to "FUCK YOU!" all on the say-so of someone with a lot of authority and social power. This dynamic continues throughout the whole week, with Trent growing more and more on edge until, finally, he just gives in. When Roy starts popping balloons he doesn't stand up for himself and demand that he share their office respectfully, Trent just tries desperately to ignore the bullying - and it is bullying, given that Roy stops popping the moment Trent leaves - and then quietly runs away, acting apologetic as he goes. When the players refuse to discuss strategy with Trent he tries to leave again, defeated, which is a far cry from the doggedly confident reporter who would wait for Jamie after practice. Woven among the humor, Trent is at his most vulnerable here, looking more and more like the victim in a hostile, traditionally masculine space.

Of course, given that this is Ted Lasso, the situation is far more complex than just, "Bullies exist and that's #bad." The locker room scene is initially set up to look that way, in large part because it takes place in a locker room/bathroom. AKA, two spaces where bullying tends to occur unimpeded - and we've already seen that in Ted Lasso back when Nate was the underdog, cowering before the rest of the Richmond team. Roy's control over the group is so complete that no one dares challenge his order to ignore Trent (except, of course, Ted himself. The guy who sparked Roy's growth from the get-go) even though the group is clearly very relieved when the ban is lifted. Roy screams at Trent, making him jump, and orders him into the semi-privacy of the showers. It speaks volumes to me that Ted feels the need to give a reassuring nod and that Trent clearly needed it because, again, outside of the fact that they're both obviously adults now and that on a surface level this moment is meant to make us laugh, this is all very reminiscent of the bully pulling the nerdy kid somewhere where he can hurt him without consequence, all while everyone sits there and watches, not really wanting it to happen, but not willing to stop it either. Everything from the setting, to Trent's defensive body language, to Roy pushing the wallet against his chest in a move reminiscent of the classic shove to start off a beating, all of it heavily implies that kind of bully/victim dynamic.

But, as said, it's not that simple. Because Roy isn't the bully here and Trent, crucially, isn't just the victim. The scene goes on to reveal that Trent is the one who has caused Roy harm, by printing a unnecessarily cruel article when he was just seventeen years old. (A revelation that pairs very nicely with his introduction this season - "Love that" - reminding us that just because Trent approves of others standing up to bullies doesn't mean he's never been one.) That was a decision that "wrecked" a young Roy, to the extent that he kept that quote in his wallet for years, only now reaching a point where he can admit how much that hurt him. Trent's explanation is understandable given his heavily implied backstory. Not that he was trying to build his career, but that he would do so by "seeing the worst in people" and hurting them first before they could hurt him. Roy was right all the way back in Season One, Trent is a colossal prick... but that's likely because others were colossal pricks to him first. Here then, we see that cycle of abuse once more, the same one Nate is currently trapped in. The difference, however, is that when Ted says, 'Your ego is hurting us, Roy' Roy listens and when Roy says, 'You really hurt me, Trent' Trent listens, and the three of them together put a stop to the cycle then and there. Trent apologizes. Roy forgives him. Roy lifts the ban and by the end of the episode they've reached a place where they can speak honestly with one another. Not just about Roy's feelings - which is a HUGE thing for him to make Trent privy to - but about the complexities of Trent's career too. We've already seen that balancing the truth with compassion is fine line for him to walk - as evidenced by him texting Ted, but still publishing his article about the panic attacks; leaving his job, but still sniffing out the Richmond story - but here we get the reversal of that. Trent has already said, 'I'm working on emphasizing the ethics of my profession' and now Roy comes in with 'I'm working to admit that a cruel article isn't necessarily an inaccurate one.' He did play like shit at Chelsea and though Trent didn't need to break the spirit of a seventeen year old, the players do need to come to terms with the fact that they're in a high profile career where everyone is judging their performance (something Ted himself is all too aware of). This is the kind of nuanced understanding that's only possible post-apology/forgiveness, wherein the story has reminded us, 'Victims are capable of becoming bullies themselves and they need to own up to their actions just as much as they deserve an apology themselves.'

All of which is REALLY important for the framing of Nate's arc because he is in Trent's position, poised somewhere between victim and bully. It's obvious the ways in which Nate was a victim of the Richmond team, of his father, and even of the public, but it's significant that he's still a victim even as he now consciously hurts others too. Rebecca had a long speech this episode about how charming Rupert is, how he'll pursue you and in the process make you feel like you're the most important person in the world, someone chosen... and though she was talking about Zava, all I could think about was Nate. He's still being charmed and wooed by Rupert, what with the compliments and the new car, but all of it comes with reminders that he's worthless without that approval (surely a cleaning lady must have parked there...). Rupert is the top dog at the moment, his oh so benevolent popularity extending to Nate, encouraging him to model that behavior in order to keep his interest... but inevitably Rupert will toss him aside, just like he did with Rebecca. He'll become bored and Nate will have to grapple with the fact that, in his effort to avoid being a victim, he became the bully instead, just like Trent had. Rebecca is waiting to help Nate understand the ways in which Rupert can demolish your sense of self-worth. Trent is waiting to help Nate understand how to own up to your mistakes. And of course, there's Ted Lasso in the wings, the American outsider who can offer a much needed, compassionate perspective on the whole of it - as well as some personal insight into panic attacks during interviews. The entirety of the Richmond community, thematically, is being built into a reflection of Nate's struggle; a collection of experiences and wisdom and kind-hearted insight that can help him if (when!) he chooses to accept it.

[syndrossi]

I really hope that by becoming a father, Daemon will understand Viserys better. Yes, Viserys has made and continues to make many mistakes, but like Rhaenys said, he is not an innocent victim himself. What would he do if someone was celebrating the death of his children? Or took them to a brothel in the slums and then dumped them there? Hopefully, Daemon will rethink some of his actions and maybe even talk to Viserys. Empathy has never been his strong suit, but as a father, he might understand his brother a lot better begin to rebuild their relationship.

I think Daemon will look back to his actions, particularly the brothel incident, and be retroactively aghast with the context of being a father now.

I tend to view the "heir for a day" incident (at least my own version of its events) as Daemon grieving really terribly, and mostly for Aemma, who he knew and liked. A bit like Rhaenyra's "do you think for the few hours my brother lived that my father was happy?" quote from the show, but angrier. He probably said something similar "it took butchering our cousin to do it, but at least he got his heir for a day" and the establishment took the "heir for a day" part up as a toast, and Daemon embraced it, which is what Otto played up to Viserys: "He was CELEBRATING your son's death in the wake of both his and your dear wife's tragic loss because it ENHANCED his position!"

There's really no excuse for the brothel incident, though, and Daemon knows it.

Where the hurt lingers for Daemon is the type/proportionality of the response. If a family member had done either to Daemon's children (Viserys or Laenor), he would have beat the person bloody, and shunned them for perhaps months afterward, depending on how grave the offense and the harm done. I think he expected that manner of response from Viserys--something personal, something that shows emotion/how he cares/how deeply he was hurt by Daemon's actions. But instead he was given the most impersonal and brutal of punishments: banishment. No chance to regain Viserys's good will, just "begone." The implication being not that Daemon had done a harm against Viserys, but that he was a threat to the realm. That Daemon had done it out of ambition or greed, rather than hot-headedness, grief, or stupidity. That it wasn't that Viserys was hurt by his actions, but that he viewed him as a budding traitor/usurper.

It's sort of a fundamental difference in how either of them approaches punishment. The old "when you are a hammer, every problem is a nail." Viserys is king, therefore punishments of the realm are what occur to him (and the impersonal nature somewhat lets Viserys off the hook, emotionally, as a people-pleaser; "I'm not punishing you, your king is punishing you"). Daemon is not, and he's a very passionate person, therefore violence and lashing out verbally are his tools of choice in dealing with that sort of thing.

So Daemon was not innocent, but the punishment didn't fit the offense, from his perspective. The fact that Viserys refuses to either see that or admit it means he might do it again, that it's a matter of Viserys mistrusting him rather than Viserys feeling wronged.

The understanding that Daemon sort of lacks here is that Viserys wasn't thinking particularly clearly for the "heir for a day" punishment. He was grieving heavily for his wife and baby, wracked by his own guilt, so Otto proposing the nuclear option probably felt good in the moment with his anger. Could Daemon say that, in Viserys's position as king, he absolutely wouldn't have let someone talk him into a harsh punishment like banishment?

IMO their conflicts mostly arise from their differing personalities, which is another thing that requires some empathy to understand. Viserys is all about avoiding confrontation. Banishment is as impersonal as you can get, and doesn't require him to see Daemon or dwell on things. He can forget and move on, no further confrontation even possible. And Viserys is very good at forgetting. (Daemon is not.)

Whereas Daemon is 100% in-your-face confrontational, with the main exception being his recent care in dealing with Viserys (which is born out of fear). And that kind of response is almost what Viserys views as the worst case scenario were the situation flipped. Someone feeling intense anger/hatred toward him? The worst feeling.

And there's also the underlying question of "what are the challenges facing each individual" which is another thing where both of them would benefit from thinking from the other's perspective.

At the end of the day, there is no single silver bullet solution to repairing their relationship. Daemon can be as empathetic as he likes, but if Viserys never reciprocates, the resentment will continue to fester, especially as Viserys continues to misstep. (His recent decisions have all been ones where Viserys is aware that his actions may hurt Daemon but he does them anyway. And the influence of the crown is such that he's even angry with Daemon for disobeying him by taking the children out for the day, rather than imagining why Daemon might have done so. He assumes Daemon is doing it just to be contrary or rebellious toward him. That it's about Viserys and not Daemon/the kids.)

I guess my TL;DR here is: in many ways, Daemon probably understands Viserys even less when viewing him through the lens of fatherhood. Why didn't Viserys threaten to gut him back then? Why was his assumption that Daemon did those things out of cold ambition? Why does Viserys care so little for his current children, while focusing all his attention on Daemon's?

It'd take thinking a lot about who Viserys is as a person (and a king), which may be something we see Daemon doing, but somewhat unrelated to fatherhood, aside from being much more motivated to do so out of fear over losing the boys.

(We do have a moment coming up between them that I quite like in chapter 28 that peels back the curtain a little on Viserys while also being a bit ouch in both directions.)

[stackslip]

your post about fma03 are good and i'm stuck thinking about scar for hours at a time again. stories talking about 'revenge' can read really bad to me because a lot use 'this oppressed minority trying to fight state violence is bad' plotline. fma03 was honestly pretty unique in that scar was this tragic hero instead. it's sad, it's clearly difficult for him and he see him struggle, but everything he does was also necessary to prevent further genocide.

YEAH, it's a trope i absolutely loathe and scar in the og manga is its poster boy and everyone and their mom loves to pretend it's super progressive or something lol. there are aspects to scar's manga character i wish i could have enjoyed more were he not constantly scolded by half the cast for being an Evil Murderer when the war criminals' redemption arcs are assumed to be done by now and they're good people we should all root for. bc like. i genuinely LIKE the idea of scar's brother's other arm being about reconstruction. i LIKE the concept of scar holding destruction and rebuilding at once, and being able to one day move on and participate in the rebuilding of ishbal! but it comes with the idea that he is wrong for wanting to destroy amestris's military and the people who've murdered his people in the first place, it comes with him calling himself scum for being a Bad Murderer, it comes with the only other major talking ishbalan character BEING A MEMBER OF AMESTRIS'S MILITARY, UNDER THE COMMAND OF A WOMAN WHO CURSES HER BROTHER OUT FOR NOT HAVING JOINED IN THE GENOCIDE, basically scolding scar in turn for daring to want revenge. lol. i likewise would like the thing between him and mei a lot better if it didn't feel like it didn't play in tropes of "this big brown scary man is actually sweet bc this cute pale skinned girl makes him Soft" which.... i'm not fond of. i like mei and his relationship to her a lot, I Do Not Like The Framing. i do not like what arakawa does with scar in the manga, and this will always, ALWAYS be my biggest contention with fma, my line in the sand that i refuse to back down. so many things i can chalk up to taste, but i'm never not going to argue that scar's treatment in the og manga is absolutely abysmal.

in comparison, the way 03 reframes scar from his very first appearance as someone a lot more vulnerable/human and understandable, how his violence is put into context for what amestris has done to him and how al and him have this direct connection and mutual understanding, down to al flat out saying "if someone killed my brother i'd probably want to burn down the world too".... it's just. really good all around. scar's arc does not revolve around the elrics' plot, but when he does encounter them it's not so ed can scold him for being a murderer--because scar can and does bite back ed for participating in the military in the first place. his encounter with lust, the dynamic between him, his brother and his brother's love and how all three of them have been denied even their very names and identity in the aftermath of the genocide..... unbelievably bleak. how lust and scar likewise are trying to reclaim an identity as specifically Ishbalan in different ways too! lust by remembering what she was made from, going against dante and realizing what has been taken away from her, dying while proclaiming I WAS A WOMAN FROM ISHBAL. and then you have scar, who refuses his past name because he died with his brother and he died with the old ishbal. amestris murdered him along his people. there's no coming back from this. and like.... it's tragic, because it means scar is doomed from the start. he sees himself as a ghost and he is unable to not be one. but he also *chooses* to do something of it. to not simply pursue revenge but to actively stop amestris's military from repeating the genocide in liore! he is STILL enacting violence, he is using ishbal's own old alchemy and usurping amestris's claims so he can turn their own weapon back on them. ishbal was murdered for amestris's principles, and likewise scar is going to destroy as much of the amestrian military as he can in the name of not only avenging ishbal but stopping it from ever happening again! and his plan works. it works, and it's tragic, but also triumphant. it's tragic because scar was a good man.

that's the difference between the treatment of scar in og fma and 03. in the former, scar is the one character who has to Grow Into A Good Person, because it is assumed that no good person should use violence even to defend their people and avenge genocide. because violence is the prerogative of the protagonists, and because it is easy to remove the "bad people" from the premise--you can just excise them as a tumour, and then amestris is no longer a fascist and genocidal hell state. never mind that a sympathetic character (one often touted as a feminist icon ffs) is actively defending her choice to participate in the genocide to the end and derides another for NOT participating in it, but apparently she's fine! but scar has to Learn To Forgive and becoming a good person means settling down and things will magically improve. and scar has to learn this from the elrics, even as they talk down to him and see him in a very negative light, because apparently the two blonde protagonists understand violence better than a survivor of genocide does.

in 03, scar is a good person. or at the very least, he's entirely justified. and he might not be right 100% of the time, but he is from the beginning considered to understand a lot more of the world than the elrics are! he is a tragic hero because he died long ago, and there was no other path for him. and he isn't.... wrong. it's been shown in 03 that ishbalan survivors literally get hunted and displaced wherever they go. they can't rebuild, as long as amestris is as it is! you can't just spout platitudes about how violence is bad, because even if you give up violence it will show up at your door and burn your refugee camp and the only way to counter is meeting it with violence yourself. where ed sacrifices himself at the end for his brother in another tragic hero ending, scar sacrifices himself for not only the memory of his brother but for all of ishbal AND liore to be able to live. and he's right! he's destabilized the military enough that when roy makes his choice and kills bradley, the military has been crippled and is forced to take a step back, and amestris is suddenly on the defensive and no longer able to take on offensive wars. ishbalans and liorites are shown rebuilding in peace, as amestrian soldiers are no longer able to attack them. scar's sacrifice worked. he took on the identity of old ishbal's avenging ghost, and he pushed it to the end. he finally accepted his brother's love and sacrifice, and sacrificed himself in turn--like the elrics do! his last words are words of love. they're tender. in the moment that he kills hundreds of amestrian soldiers, music swells. yes, it's tragic. fma 03 isn't saying that justified violence is all glory and roses, it's still painful--the soldiers' death isn't a fun happy time, but.... they were coming in to murder thousands of liorites, possibly rape some of them like they did rose. their lives, 03 says again and again, are *not* more important than the lives of marginalized people. they've made their choice. violence here was the right call, it was an act of love, and it is framed as such. scar's final act is mirrored by the final act of the protagonists, there too an act of love. scar in 03 is so much more humanized and respected a character than he is in the manga, and regardless of 03's other failings or differences in taste, i will argue that his story in 03 is more relevant and real as ever today as it was during the political context of 2003-04