#my hands kinda throw a wrench in everything but what can you do

[citricacidprince]

I was looking at your relativity falls au and I was thinking since Ford in the original series takes off Stan’s hat to show his hair, kinda revealing he is Ford, what if in relativity falls Ford takes the glasses off of Stan and puts them on and that is kinda of the moment

Also I really want more protective! Relativity falls Ford, I want to watch that child go feral and start biting people <3

Hiiiii!!! Sorry it took a super long time to reply to this I just,, this possessed me so much I may or may not have written, uh, 7400 words based on this lol (also a drawing but it’s hidden in the writing haha)

There sadly isn’t a lot of feral protective Ford in this, just sad wet cat baby Ford (tho you get a glimpse of it at the very end), but believe me I have many thoughts of protective Ford as they’re teens hehe!!

Like, they’re so fun to be because they’re the opposite of how they are in the show! Stan was the protector and would get into fights for Ford, but as teens Ford is extremely protective of Stan and will throw himself into a fight he know he can’t win in a moments notice because they insulted Stan, even when Stan tries to insist that it’s okay. These two make me siiiiick 💥💥💥💥💥

Anywho, this mini writing this is just a prolonged scene from Weirdmageddon part 3 but with my Relativity Falls AU paint on it lol

It’s filled with an comical amount of tears because I believe Mabel and Dipper are weepy saps and the baby boys haven’t had the ‘Boys don’t cry’ motto drilled into their heads yet, also they’re like, super traumatized atm haha

Well, have fun reading! Please please please please be nice, I know I’m not the best writer and just write when I’m possessed so please be so niceies to me or I’ll fucking cry <33💥💥💥💥

Everything is under the cut! :]

🍃🪦☁️~~~~~~~~~~~~⛈️👓🥀

Mabel and Dipper could only watch on in shock and horror as one of their beloved great nephew erased the mind of their other beloved great nephew. Dipper didn’t even know the boys still had that blasted machine, much less that they still had it on them here of all places!

Maybe it was good that the children had the memory gun hidden away. After all, they just used it to outwit and defeat Cipher.

However… at what cost?

Stanley’s round face was drenched in silent tears as he held the memory gun to the back of his brother’s head, his gaze completely focused but his trembling grip on the memory gun giving away just how much this was affecting him.

Dipper always thought he’d be ecstatic when Bill Cipher was finally defeated. Spit on his face, dance on his grave, give the worst eulogy in the world, the whole shebang. But now that the moment has finally arrived all he can feel is sick to his stomach.

They’re just kids. They shouldn’t be here. His sweet little grand-nephews shouldn’t be paying for his hubris. This should’ve stayed between him and Bill.

It should have been him.

The bright blue light faded and the memory gun hit the ground, Stanley’s hands shaking even worse now as tears fell to the floor, unable to keep his head up as little hiccups fell from his lips.

Dipper was still squeezing Mabel close to his side, the two frozen in their huddled positions on the floor, gut-wrenching guilt on his face while his sister had her hands over his mouth, only able to watch on with dread.

Dipper only faintly registered that the other members of the zodiac had been released from their tapestry prisons. That blonde woman Mabel seemed to like was rubbing her head as that young Hispanic woman who works for Mabel, Anjelita, held out a hand to help her up. That red-headed hairy lumberjack and that one oddly peppy goth teen helped young Fiddleford through his shaky breathing.

After a couple of moments Dipper heard his sister take a deep shaky breath, his voice wet as one of her hands reached out towards Stanley.

“…L-Lee? Lee, baby come here-” There was a weary and wobbly smile on her lips. She was doing that thing where she tries to be the comforting light in an awful situation, even though she is not doing any better than anyone else at the moment.

She was trying to corral her crying great-nephew into her arms, a mixture of trying to comfort him and herself.

She was swiftly cut off by gravity going wonky.

Dark bricks ripped out of the walls and shot up into the rift up in the blood red sky, Weirdmaggedon falling apart at the seams. Creatures of many shapes and sizes flew up into the rift, the older twins gripping each other close as they stared up into the multicolored light. Everyone was staring up into the sky, hope and relief in their hearts that the nightmare might finally be over.

Everyone but Stanley.

He was intensely staring at the back of his brother’s head, silent tears continuously streaming down his cheeks, unable to see the small content smile on Stanford’s face.

As the light began to envelop the town of Gravity Falls, Stanley reached out his hand to his kneeling brother to try and grab onto him but was unable to before the light reached the two, erasing most traces of Weirdmaggedon’s effects and safely displacing everyone in the Fearamid to the ground below.

The woods were quiet. Everything was much quieter than it was during Weirdmageddon.

There was barely a moment of peace before Dipper and Mabel were sprinting through the woods yelling out for their great-nephews, panic increasing with every passing second.

They finally came across the boys in a small clearing after 2 minutes of franticness. Stanley’s back to the older set of twins and Stanford kneeling in the grass.

Mabel ran much faster than Dipper did, practically throwing herself to her knees as she grabbed Stanley and pulled him tight into her arms. She buried him into the crook of her neck, tears beginning to drip down her face as she ran her fingers through his messy brown curls, trying to soothe him while she gently shushed his crying.

“Shhhh… shhh it’s okay Lee it’s okay sweepea, I’m here, Grunkle Mabel is here pumpkin.”

Dipper would’ve chuckled at the use of ‘Grunkle Mabel’, something Stanley insisted on calling her even after she revealed that she wasn’t a man because he thought Grauntie sounded strange, but he couldn’t really feel anything but heart ache right now. He stepped closer to the crying duo, kneeling down next to them as he glanced over towards Stanford.

He still seemed to be unconscious, quiet as a mouse as he kneeled on the grass. He was so still that Dipper almost wanted to check his pulse to make sure his heart was still beating, but the soft breathing coming from his chest eased his worries. Stanford was always so stressed and on edge the entire time Dipper had known him, which in all honesty, wasn't very long. However, in this moment with that small smile on his lips his nephew almost looked peaceful.

Guilt ate at his heart even more.

God he should’ve seen the warning signs that tension was building between the two boys. He’s the catalyst for causing Weirdmageddon by saying he would train Stanford in Gravity Falls while Stanley went home. He should’ve put his foot down and said Stanford was too young and needed to go home at the end of the summer with his brother. But his great nephew was just so insistent and Dipper himself was scrambling to think of an amazing gift for his twin sister for their first birthday together in 30 years, he just caved and said yes.

He’s the reason Stanley ran with that cracked rift. He was the final crack in the already strained relationship between the boys and he was too blind to notice.

He turned to his sister once more, emotions welling in his heart seeing his sister and nephew so upset and clinging to each other. He gingerly rubbed Stanley’s back and Mabel’s shoulder, softly speaking with sorrow dripping from his voice, “Stanley, I am so sorry… words can’t express how much I didn’t want this to happen. You shouldn’t have had to deal with the consequences of my mistakes..” He gingerly tucked a loose curl behind Stanley’s ear, softly adding on with a feeling of shame flooding his head, “…It should’ve been me.”

Mabel’s head immediately shot up at Dipper’s words, a glare on her wet face as she shot back with a low warning tone, “Dipper Lee Pines.” He quickly shut his mouth. Noted, she wasn’t going to take any self depreciation coming from him at the moment. Can’t say he blames her, he would’ve done the same if any self-depreciating words came from her mouth.

Stanley muffled something against Mabel’s neck instantly making the two stop what they were doing to turn to him. “What was that baby?” Mabel gently asked as Dipper continued to rub his back. The young boy pulled himself away from Mabel’s neck ever so slightly, taking in a deep shaky breath as he shakily repeated himself.

“…n-not Lee-”

The older twins' brows furrow, their hands stilling slightly as it was Dipper’s turn to softly question, “What are you talking about Stanley?”

The brunet pulls his trembling form away from Mabel to stand up, wiping his wet face with his arm, his cheeks so flushed from sobbing that his faint freckles were easily seen against the red. He stood still for a moment, trying to calm his breathing before he stepped between the sitting pair of twins and towards his kneeling brother.

He took in the sight of him for a moment, a sick feeling in his stomach as his trembling hands tentatively grab onto the glasses on his unconscious brother’s face, his touch light as a feather and careful, as if he was afraid his brother would shatter if his finger even as so much grazed him. He carefully pulled the glasses off and stared down at them in his hands, a fresh wave of silent tears falling from his cheeks and onto the cracked glass lenses.

“I-I’m… I’m n-not…” He shakily whispers, voice caught in his throat as he tries to get the words out. He gingerly lifted the glasses to his face and placed them onto his red nose, his fingers gripping the temples of the glasses as he hesitantly turned around. His wet brown eyes locked with his kneeling great-uncle and great-aunt, the kid’s gaze drowning in guilt as Stanford hesitantly continued on with his wobbling voice, “…I-I’m not S-Stanley.”

The two froze at those words, Mabel's bewildered gaze kept whipping her gaze between Stanford and Stanley, quickly growing distressed while Dipper felt a deep pit form in his stomach.

He’s so stupid, it should’ve been obvious but in all the chaos he didn’t even think to check. In the moment of peace he finally saw the differences.

The six fingers and the way his eyes squinted without his glasses should’ve been a dead giveaway, but there were also other signs as well.

Stanley had told Dipper not too long ago that his tooth was knocked out the second day the twins showed up. Apparently it was knocked loose when he fell face first into the dirt while fleeing with Stanford from a vampire, after his brother had hid the 3rd journal away from Stanley all day, taking ‘Trust No One’ Dipper had scrambled onto that in a paranoid panic to heart.

Stanford just lost his tooth not even 30 minutes ago. When the boys had begun to argue on the Zodiac Wheel Stanley couldn’t take it anymore and decked Stanford to the ground. Dipper remembers the immediate regret that flashed onto the young boy’s face when his brother spat out a bloody tooth onto the floor, opening his mouth to try and apologize but was unable to get a word out before Stanford quickly punched him back, causing the infamous fight between the two.

Stanford still had some speckles of dried blood on his chin, a reminder of that awful fight.

The two had faint freckles dusting their face but Stanley was the only one who had freckles on his shoulders.

The bandaid on Stanford’s face was falling off, as if it was peeled off and slapped onto his face.

Mabel let out a weak and breathless noise of confusion, brows furrowed and clearly overwhelmed by everything happening in such a short time. “W-Wha-? How-?”

Dipper cut his sister off. She was barely keeping it together as is, and while he was also extremely upset he had a lot of practice suppressing these kinds of emotions to survive in the multiverse. He can take over for a moment just so Mabel can take a moment to breathe.

“Stanford… what happened?” Dipper questioned, a comforting hand on his twin’s shoulder as his furrowed gaze met Stanley’s. Despite how intense he looked, there was a softness in his voice. A quiet plea for his great-nephew to tell him what the hell is going on.

Stanford’s watery eyes stayed locked with the ground, looking almost as overwhelmed and weary as Mabel did while his hands fidgeted against his stomach. “W-When you two started getting c-chased Bill I…” His breathing hitched. “…I didn’t know what to d-do, I was just so s-scared.”

One of his finger’s lifted to his lip as he unconsciously began to chew the skin off the side of it, a habit Mabel has been fighting tooth and nail for Ford to quit through the entire Summer.

Not that she can really bring herself to care at the moment.

Stanford looked increasingly distressed as he continued. “I-I was panicking, I always know w-what to do and I just I couldn’t t-think of anything! I thought my h-head was going to explode when-” He takes in a sharp breath, more tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “…w-when Stanley said he had a plan.”

Stanford was trying to wipe away the thick tears off his face, his cheeks irritated and red from how often he's been rubbing away tears. “E-Everything went so fast. He was explaining the p-plan as fast as he could while we swapped clothes. Said we were going to p-pull off our best con yet. Tricking Bill into S-Stan’s mind by convincing him it was m-mine and then erasing him for g-good.”

“I t-tried to ask why we were d-doing all of this… Stanley could've just erased my mind after I let B-Bill in and e-everything would just end, but Stanley… S-Stanley didn’t budge. He s-said it had to be him. Said I… S-Said I actually had a future.” Ford breathing hiccups, shoulders hiking up to his neck as even more even more tears run down his cheeks and to the grass below. “A-A-And I was j-just so scared I… I let him… I let h-him take my place…”

A choked sob rips from his throat, unable to take it anymore as he covers his face with his polydactyl hands, continuing to explain through the tears and shaky speech. “O-One of the last things I ever d-did was punch h-him in the face! I never t-told him I was s-sorry! He DIED thinking I h-hated him!”

Dipper immediately jumped into action, pushing himself over to Ford and pulling his hands away from his face. He rested his forehead against his great-nephew’s and held onto his smaller hands, keeping his eyes on Stanford’s as he firmly spoke. “Breathe with me Stanford. In and out.”

It took a moment but the kid’s breathing slowed ever so slightly as he tried to mimic Dipper’s breaths though he was still unable to control the hiccuping and sniffling.

“You didn’t kill Stanley.” Dipper continued to speak, his tone softening considerably as he gently squeezed Ford’s polydactyl hand with his larger one. “He’s alive and breathing right behind you.”

The kid began to look frustrated as he lowly choked out, “He might as well be.”

Dipper… couldn’t exactly retort that. By all means Stanley would be a shell of his former self, fundamentally a completely different person when he wakes up. However, he wasn’t going to let his great-nephew wallow like this. He gently squeezed his hands once more and softly questioned, “…Do you really think Stanley would hate you after all of this?”

Stanford froze at the question, only the sound of rustling leaves and birds chirping to be heard as the brunet boy’s eyes stayed locked with Dipper’s before letting it fall to the dirt below. After a couple quiet moments Stanford finally mumbled out. “He should.”

“But would he?”

“….” Ford couldn’t reply, a bittersweet and melancholic feeling flooding his heart.

As if on cue, a faint noise was suddenly made behind the three of them.

Everyone whirled their heads over to where Stanley sat kneeling on the grass. His brown eyes blearily began to open as he raised his hand up to idly rub them. The faint freckles on his cheeks and his brown curls were dusted in the warm light of the sun. A yawn fell from his lips, tiny tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the deep breath, before he finally opened his eyes completely.

His brown eyes blinked away sleep, his gaze slowly darting between the three people also kneeling on the grass in front of him, not saying a word yet, just taking them in.

Dipper and Ford waited with baited breath, words stuck in their throats as they stared back at Stan, trying to find any familiarity in his eyes.

Mabel couldn’t wait a single second longer.

“…S-Stanley? Lee?” She softly questioned, tears beginning to well up in her eyes again as she gingerly crawled closer to him. “H-Hey my little firecracker! You r-remember me right? Your lovable Grunkle Mabel!” Her hands raise up to cup Stanley’s round cheeks, her smile a little wobbly but her brown eyes filled with a ray of hope. “You remember me, d-don’t you pumpkin?”

Stanley just stared blankly at his great-aunt, completely silent for a moment before his brows furrow. He tilts his head, confusion clearly seen in his blank eyes as he bluntly asks, “Who are you?”

Mabel’s heart might as well have shattered into a million pieces. The tears welling up in her eyes freely fall but the wobbly smile refuses to fall. One hand raises to run through his messy curls as the other continues to cup his face. “W-What are you talking about sweetheart? It’s me, Stanley, It’s Mabel.”

Dipper sprung forward and gently began to pull Mabel away from Stanley, that pit in his stomach growing even more as his sister tried to weakly yank herself out of his grasp while crying out, “It’s me, Stanley! It’s me!” He squeezed her in his arms as her cries turned to sobs, burying her face against Dipper’s chest as she finally let out all the pain she’s been keeping in her chest since the moment Weirdmageddon had begun.

“It’s no use Mabel, Stanley doesn’t remember anything.” Dipper softly spoke. He hugged her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, her silver curls brushing against his skin as his brown eyes locked with Stanley. The kid looked so confused and lost, a sight that just made his heart ache even more. “…Stanley doesn’t even realize it, but he just saved the world… Saved us… Our little hero…”

Stanley brows were furrowed, not understanding anything that was going on in the slightest. He glanced over at where Stanford was standing, lifting up his hand to cup his mouth and loudly stage whisper to the brunet, “What’s up with the old guys?”

Stanford didn’t answer, just staring at Stanley with large globs of tears dripping down his cheeks. Without warning he sprinted to his brother, engulfing Stanley in a tight hug and hiding his face in his neck. The impact of the tackle hug almost knocked the two to the floor but Stanley managed to keep himself propped up with one arm, brown eyes wide with shock as even more confusion filled his fuzzy mind. “W-Woah, okay-! We’re hugging now, I guess!”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry-” Stanford kept repeating those words over and over against his brother’s neck, his body trembling from just how hard he was crying.

Stanley had no clue what the hell was happening. He was in a place he’s never seen before, surrounded by strangers sobbing their eyes out, and he was realizing that he couldn’t really remember what his name was again. A part of him was telling him he should just book it, get away from these weirdos, but something in him refused to let him.

Maybe it was because they all genuinely looked so sad. He didn’t know who they were but his heart sorta ached at their grief-stricken appearances, kind of wanting to comfort them in some way.

Maybe he’s a bleeding heart, he can’t really remember if he is.

Stanley shuffled a little in Stanford’s tight grasp until finally something kinda heavy was laid onto the sobbing child’s shoulders. Stanford tentatively lifted his wet face from his brother’s neck to peer behind him.

It was his leather bomber jacket. Stanley had subtlety slipped off the jacket, careful not to jostle the crying kid too much, then plopped it onto his shoulders.

“You looked like you needed it more than me.” Stanley spoke, an awkward but kind smile on his face. He then quickly shrugged it off and added on with a casual tone, “Besides, I was gettin’ warm in that thing, you can just keep it.”

Stanford sharply inhaled at those words, polydactyl hands letting go of Stanley to grip at the jacket draped over his shoulders and pull it even closer, acting as if it was a barrier that could protect him from the world around him. A choking sob ripped from Stanford’s throat, hiding his face against his brother’s neck once again.

“Okay! We’re still crying!” Stanley awkwardly sputtered out, tensing up as the brunet continued to cry against his neck, unsure of what he should be doing. Eventually he settled on tentatively patting the crying kid’s back, hoping that he was actually comforting the kid and not making whatever was happening worse.

“I s-shouldn’t have pushed you a-away because I was t-told to! You w-were never a burden! I-I don’t hate you! I n-never did!” Stanford kept crying apologizes against Stanley’s shoulder, making the already confused brunet boy even more lost with every word spoken. His hand continued to pat on Ford’s back as he softly replied, his words tentative and unsure, “…I don’t hate you either.”

“Yes you do.” Stanford thickly replied against his brother's shoulder, completely and utterly convinced in his distraught state that his brother would absolutely hate him if he could remember what Ford did to him.

Stanley couldn’t exactly reply to that because he genuinely didn’t know if he did hate this kid. He didn’t even know who he was. So instead of responding he just continued to rub the brunet’s back, hoping to ease the hyperventilation sobs buried against his skin.

It took a handful of long moments filled with silence and tears for the three to compose themselves, Dipper being the first to finally stand up.

“…We’ve been wallowing here long enough, people are going to get worried.”

Dipper gingerly pulls Mabel to her feet, tears had stopped falling from her face but her cheeks red and her famous smile no longer present. He made sure his sister was steady on her feet before holding out his hand to the twin boys huddled together on the ground, a small weary smile on his wrinkled face.

“Come on… let’s go home.”

The twins pull themselves up with Dipper’s help. Once on their feet Ford latches onto Stan’s arm, sticking to his side and refusing to let go. Stanley doesn’t seem to mind or even notice the clinging presence as his brown eyes look up at the sky and over the tall trees with curious wonder.

Dipper softly sighed and eyed over the fascinated brunet looking over the tree line with concern, “Are your muscles alright, Stanley? No issues with walking or standing?”

The kid didn’t respond for a moment, still looking around before he finally registered that he was being spoken to. His brown eyes darted around before he pointed at himself with his free hand. “Oh! Am I Stanley?”

Dipper felt a stab in his chest at the question, but still gently replied, “Yeah… you’re Stanley.”

Stanley nodded at the confirmation and softly said ‘Staaaanley’ under his breath, getting accustomed to the unfamiliar name.

“Stanley… cool name! I like it!” He cheerfully replied, a wide smile spreading across his face that showed off his missing tooth. “And my legs are fine, I think.” He used his free hand to grab onto Dipper’s hand and loudly added on, “Now lead the way, old man!”

Dipper sighed and squeezed onto Stanley’s hand, gently guiding him through the woods back to the Shack, never forgetting the route home even after all these years.

The twins were parallels of each other as they walked. Mabel was clinging onto her brother’s arm and leaning her head against his shoulder while Stanford was doing the same with his brother. The air was so tense and gloomy around the four, affecting all but Stanley.

Stanley was looking around the woods as they walked, his brown eyes full of innocent wonder as he mumbled under his breath about ‘Never seeing trees this big’.

When they made it back to the Shack Dipper could only wince at the state it was in. It was falling apart and damaged from the battle during Weirdmageddon, the damage unable to be reversed even after the apocalypse had ended.

“The Shack…” Mabel sadly lamented under her breath, the sight of the place she spent 30 years making into a home and business just adding onto her already overwhelming amount of sadness.

Dipper was about to try and comfort her when he noticed 3 figures standing in front of the shack. After a moment the three started to sprint towards the family, frames becoming clearer as they got closer.

It was Anjelita, Boyish Dan, and Fiddleford.

“Are you guys alright?!” Boyish Dan loudly asked with his booming voice before he even reached the family. Anjelita was silently but swiftly following behind him, her hand gripping her Abuelo’s cap so it wouldn't fly off her head and her eyes filled with concern. Fiddleford was tripping over his feet from how fast he was sprinting, Dipper was mildly concerned the accident prone teen was going to trip over a branch or rock and slam face first against the ground.

He didn’t trip, thankfully. The small blond teen stumbled to a stop in front of the family, specifically the younger set of twins, panting heavily. “Thank the lord y’all are alright! I thought y'all had gotten trapped under somethin’ or hurt or worse!” Fiddleford anxiously rambled on, clearly having thrown himself into a tizzy over his friend's safety.

Stanley’s brows furrowed at the new faces, especially the long nosed southern one right in front of him. He raised an eyebrow and looked over the blond with an untrusting gaze. “…You’re not going to hug me and cry too, are you?”

Fiddleford looked bewildered at the question, blinking in confusion as he asked, “Now why on’ earth would I do that?”

Before Stanley or someone else in the family could reply, Anjelita spoke up from beside Boyish Dan. “His memory was erased, correct?”

The family, minus Stanley, flinched at the question.

Anjelita was a very observant young lady, so it makes sense she would be the first to notice.

Fiddleford and Boyish Dan kinda tensed up at the question. They also saw what happened while they were trapped in the tapestries, but they had hoped that maybe…

“That really stuck? He doesn’t remember anything?” Boyish Dan questioned.

“Nothin’ at all?” Fiddleford softly added.

Dipper wordless shook his head and a solemn silence covered them all.

The three followed the family into the dilapidated Mystery Shack, everyone looking over the cracks and debris with melancholy and sadness on their faces. Well, all but Stanley.

Stanley excitedly jumped up as they all entered the run down living room. “Wow, nice place you have here!” The brunet ripped away from Stanford and Dipper’s grasp, the suddenness making Stanford weakly try and latch back onto his brother for just a moment before giving up and wrapping his arms around his stomach. The boy then ran full speed at the dusty recliner. Stan always loved that chair would steal it from Mabel whenever he had a chance.

He jumped onto the seat and laughed as he bounced a little before settling down. “Lovin’ this chair! I just sink into this thing!”

He opened his brown eyes and saw everyone standing at the edges of the room, the miserable air of sadness weighing so heavy on the room he could feel it pressing against his skull. Stanley limply leaned back in the chair, a faint look of annoyance on his face as he bluntly questioned, “Geez, am I at a funeral? Who died and turned you all into sad sacks.”

No one answered.

Fiddleford turned to the group, going to lift his finger to bite on it only to stop himself when he realized he was doing it. Instead the blond lifted up his chewlery necklace and began to bite on it instead, his nerves shot as he desperately asked, “Surely there must be ah’ way to reverse this!”

“No, there isn’t.” Stanford replied, not even bothering to look up from the floor, looking extremely tired and downright miserable as he hugged his jacket closer.

Fiddleford whips around to Stanford, exasperation and agitation clear on his face as he yells back, “There's gotta’ be!”

Dipper softly sighed, defeat dripping from his voice as he gently replied. “I’m sorry, Fiddleford. There isn’t anything we can do for Stanley. No one can come back from something like this.”

Anjelita perks up from the besides Boyish Dan, counteracting Dipper’s statement with a simple, “Miss Candy.”

“W-What?” Dipper questioned, blinking up at her in confusion.

The large red-headed teen jolted and jumped up at the reminder.

“That’s right! Kooky Candy got her memories back during that whole weird secret society adventure!”

Fiddleford looked up at Dipper with hope and desperation in his green eyes, hands trembling from the reminder of that awful day and his shot nerves. “Y-Yeah! An’ Miss Candy’s mind was cracked ‘cause of tha’ memory gun!”

The blond points to Stanley sitting on the recliner, the confused brunet just staring at the group with furrowed brows, not taking in anything that they’re saying. “Lee still gotta’ chance!”

Dipper is quiet for a moment, brain running a mile a minute. When he finally speaks up again his voice is low and unsure.

“… I’m not going to say it's going to work,”

His eyes meet his sister’s, her sad brown eyes filled with a glimmer of hope at the thought of being able to save her little firecracker.

“But I’m not going to say it’s impossible either.”

He racked his brain once more, trying to think of a solution, an answer that has a high probability of working.

“…Maybe if we had something that could jog his memory-”

Mabel suddenly gasped, eyes wide as she squeezes Dipper’s arm, her grip tight. “My scrapbook!”

She then quickly rushes to a desk near the table, glitter and shimmering pieces of paper fluttering out as her hands rummaged in one of the drawers. She let out a loud ‘Aha!’ And pulled out a pink and very sparkly scrapbook.

“It’s not going to work.” Stanford bluntly mumbled, defeat and sorrow clinging to his small frames.

“Not with that attitude!” The old woman quickly shoots back, not letting anything snuff out her freshly burning glimmer of hope in her chest.

She quickly ran back over to Stanley, the rest of the group, minus Stanford, following suit. She placed the glimmering book onto the confused child’s lap, the front labeled ‘Summer of 2012’ in sparkly glitter pen.

“I’ve been working on this book since the day you two arrived!” Mabel offhandedly explained while opening it to the first page. Pasted in the middle of that page was a cute photo of Stanley and Stanford unpacking their bags. Stan was making a silly face at the camera while Ford had not realized the photo was being taken, too busy hanging up his Nikola Tesla poster with a concentrated face. Stickers and other miscellaneous crafting objects were glued to the page. “Here’s the first day you two arrived!” She then pointed at about 4 to 6 small pieces of wood taped to the page. “And those are the splinters you got stuck in your hand when trying to unpack!”

Stanley furrowed his brow at that, very confused on why she would keep something like that but not having a chance to ask before she pointed to the next thing.

The next photo on the page was Stanford and Stanley looking a tiny bit scratched up and tired. Ford was looking away from the camera and into the inner pocket of his jacket, excitement shining in his eyes as he stared at the journal he had found in the woods that day that was poking out of his jacket ever so slightly. Stanley was also excited but for a very different reason. His eyes were wide with excitement, his equally wide smile showing off the space in his teeth where his tooth was knocked out. The missing tooth was being held very close to the camera, still covered in small flecks of blood.

“And here’s you losing your tooth the very next day!”

Next to the photo was also a small tooth taped onto the paper, assumedly Stanley’s baby tooth that was knocked out. He especially wanted to ask why she had scrapbooked that but was once again cut off, no one except him finding this old woman strange in the slightest.

Fiddleford had leaned over and flipped the page. On the page was a photo of Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford all huddled together on one of the boy’s beds, all of them wearing pajamas. Stanford and Stanley seemed to both be talking at the same time, talking over each other while Fiddleford looked a little nervous and overwhelmed, but a smile very clearly seen on his face as he was squished between the twins.

“Tha’s the first time I spent tha’ night after we ‘came friends! After I, uh, ya’ know, tried to kill ya’ with a giant robit-”

Boyish Dan pointed at the next page. The twins were wearing 70s themed dancing clothes, disco lights shining on the two as they stood alone on a dance floor. The boys were covered in punch but still smiling while sideways hugging. Stanford in particular looked a little tired and had a bruise or two.

“Your guy’s 13th birthday party? A bunch of power hungry Ford clones causing so much trouble we pulled the fire alarm and set off the sprinklers?

He then pointed at two carnival tickets taped onto the page next to a photo of Boyish Dan’s grappling both of the twins under his arms and lifting them high into the air, standing in front of a carnival as the warm afternoon light washed over them. Dan was laughing maniacally while Ford looked shocked, grabbing onto Dan’s large arm looking at the ground nervously, as if he was afraid of being dropped. Stanley also looked shocked but not in the same way Stanford did. Stan’s face was bright red and he looked like he was trying to laugh off being picked up so suddenly.

“How about the carnival? You tried that ‘test your strength’ game while Ford did that ‘guess how many jellybeans are in this jar’ game and both failed at them?”

Anjelita softly spoke up next to Boyish Dan as he turned the page. A picture of Stanley all dressed up was pasted onto the page. He was wearing a black suit, a red fez with the same symbol that’s on his sweater Mabel made him, an eye patch, and an 8-Ball cane. He had his eye patch flipped up and was winking at the camera, fully showing off his showman persona. Next to that photo was another one, this time depicting Stanley and Stanford sitting in a booth with Anjelita and her grandparents. Stanley and Anjelita’s Abuelo, Soos, were scarfing down a pizza slice as fast as they could, assumedly in a race to see who could eat it faster. Stanford was looking at his brother with mild disgust and concern while Anjelita’s Abuela, Melody, was excitedly cheering on her husband. Anjelita was sitting at the table leaning her chin on her hand, a soft amused smile on her lips.

“The time you were the boss of the Mystery Shack for a day? The arcade with the killer robots?”

Dipper had his hand on Mabel’s shoulder, carefully questioning, “Is any of this ringing a bell? Anything at all?”

Everyone, minus Stanford, were crowding Stanley, all in his personal space and making the dazed child even more confused. On edge and gripping the scrapbook tightly, furrowed brown eyes completely void of familiarity as he looked over the group.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Stanley began, quickly looking down as he slammed the scrapbook closed. “But none of this is making any sense to me! You keep talking to me like I know who you are, but I don’t!”

The hope in the group died at Stanley’s outburst, all of their enthusiasm fading and disappearing entirely in record time.

“Told you.” Stanford softly mumbled from the other side of the room, despondent and hugging himself tight while leaning against the wall, utter exhaustion seeping into his bones.

Stanley shifted uncomfortably in the recliner, that bubbling sense of guilt building in his stomach and his chest once again at the sight. He doesn’t even know these people but he doesn’t want to see them upset. Guess he really is a bleeding heart. He’s learning something new about himself every second.

The brunet sighed, idly rubbing his round cheeks as he quietly added on, his voice much softer than before, “Look… I’m sorry I don’t remember… I really am…”

“It’s alright Stanley, it’s not your fault.” Dipper gently replied, unaware of the way Stanford flinched at those words behind him.

There was a depressing and strained silence hanging over the group afterwards, no one really knowing what else to say after their hopeful attempt was proven to be pointless.

Then all of a sudden hot air and a snorting noise tickled Stanley’s left ear.

The kid whirled his head at the noise only to come face to face with a big old pig with a collar around its neck, along with a name tag that Stanley couldn’t read from where he was sitting. The two just stare at each other for a couple seconds, blank stare to blank stare, until it was finally broken by the pig hopping up and getting closer to Stanley, trying to chew on his brown curls.

Stanley squealed with surprise and tried to push the massive pig away, Mabel weakly laughing on her knees at the antics, her mind flashing to all the times Waddles has lovingly bothered her great-nephew the entire time he’s been here. She was about to tell her beloved pet to stop messing with Stanley when the kid beat her to the punch.

“Augh! Waddles! How many times have I told you to stop trying to eat my hair!”

Everyone froze, even Stanford’s head whirled over at Stanley’s words.

“…What did he say?” Ford asked, his voice laced in disbelief.

Stanford initially didn’t want to think there was a chance for Stanley to remember, figuring that this was going to be his punishment. Forever mourning someone who’s not even dead, someone he all but killed. But when Stanley spoke Waddles name, something he shouldn’t remember, felt that little ball of hope he’s been trying so hard to suppress in his chest reemerge.

Now Waddles was trying to lick Stanley’s cheek, making the boy squeal even more.

“I said get Waddles off me, Sixer!”

A small breathless laugh left Dipper’s throat as ran his hands through his silver curls, a hopeful disbelief in his eyes. “…It’s working.”

Stanford suddenly sprinted up to the group, grabbing onto his Great-Aunt’s arm from where she’s kneeling in front of Stanley and holding her scrapbook. “Keep reading, Grauntie Mabel.” His gaze serious, but his voice a soft plea.

Mabel had to quickly blink a couple times and bring herself back to reality, adrenaline beginning to pump in her veins at the prospect that this was working. She jumped to her feet, not even wavering as her knees creaked at the sudden movement, and called out to everyone in the room, “Story time!”

She grabbed onto Stanley, that classic Mabel smile was back on her face as she easily lifted him up and sat down where he was sitting on the recliner, pulling the frazzled boy onto her lap. She reached out and yanked Dipper to her as well, making him sit right next to her on the recliner. It was a bit of a tight squeeze but thankfully the two twins had always been on the lankier side so they made it work.

Dipper held his hand out to Stanford, helping him up and pulling him onto his lap, paralleling his sister next to him. Stanford’s immediately pressed against Stanley’s side, polydactyl hand instinctively slipping into his and squeezing like his life depended on it.

Boyish Dan and Anjelita leaned more on the farther back sides of the recliner while Fiddleford jumped up and sat on the armrest closest to Mabel, the blond pressing himself against Stanley’s other side.

Stanley was now completely surrounded once again, being hugged and squeezed and picked up by these strangers. However this time he didn’t get annoyed or uncomfortable at the attention. Instead there was this familiar warmth in his chest, like he was always meant to be held like this. He can’t really describe what caused that shift.

Maybe these guys are right, maybe he is remembering.

Stan allows himself to relax in the arms of the older woman and against the two kids pressing against either side of him, a small smile growing on his face.

“Okay okay,” Mabel began, flipping back to the first page of the scrapbook. “It all started when I got a call from my dearest older brother asking me to watch my sweet darling great-nephews for the summer, and how could I say no to having my precious little nephews all to myself for 3 months!”

Mabel began to go over every picture and every memento in the scrapbook, everyone else pitching in and adding their own commentary or laughing every once and a while, a smile on everyone’s face.

Except for Stanford.

Stanford was looking intensely at his twin, waiting anxiously for the moment Stanley finally remembered him.

A part of him was excited, the other was dreading it.

The moment his brother remembers what happened, what Ford did to him, their bond is going to completely shatter and Stanley is going to want nothing to do with him anymore. No more late night talks, no more covering for each other, no more getting into trouble. Stanford wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley wanted to cut him out of his life completely after this after what he did. Stanford wouldn’t even blame him. He deserves it after all.

Then he saw it and his heart stopped in his chest.

Stanley rapidly blinked for a second, a familiar shine in his brown eyes as he turned to look at Stanford, recognition and understanding in his stare for the first time since the end of Weirdmageddon.

The two stared silently as Mabel continued to talk, everyone’s words muffling into background noise.

Stanford wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness. His eyes weren’t filled with sorrow or guilt. They were steady, completely prepared for anything Stanley threw at him, knowing whatever it was he deserved it.

Stanley’s eyes were filled with that familiar shine but no emotion showed on his face as his stare bore into his twin, completely silent as the two eyes stayed locked.

Then Stanley did something Stanford wasn’t expecting. His brown eyes softened, a smile on his face as he got closer and leaned his head onto Stanford’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing over his twin’s polydactyl knuckles the same way their mother would do whenever she tried to calm them down when they were much smaller.

Stanford was tense, completely frozen. He was expecting yelling, punching, blaming, or even something as simple as wordlessly pulling his hand away, but he wasn’t expecting forgiveness.

He didn't deserve this. Stanley should hate his guts. Despise him and push him away just like Stanford was doing most of the summer.

Ford’s body didn’t untense, but he did slowly rest his head on top of Stan’s, squeezing his brother's hand as if it was his life line, his thoughts swirling in his mind like a hurricane.

He didn’t deserve Stanley’s forgiveness.

Or was it pity?

It must be pity.

It has to be.

Mabel was still speaking as she leaned down and rested her chin onto Stanley, Dipper doing the same with Stanford. A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped everyone in the room. Everyone but Stanford, who instead felt a sickening feeling of guilt deep in his chest.

Stanford didn’t deserve this. This kindness.

So he swore right then and there that he was going to spend the rest of his life atoning for what he did, staying by his twin’s side to make sure nothing would never, ever, hurt his brother ever again.

Or until the day Stanley wises up and realizes that Stanford wasn’t worth his pity, that he’s too good to have a coward like him for a brother.

Whatever came first.

🌻🌱🌤️~~~~~~~~~~~~🌦️🛡️🥀

Hope you liked it!! It was fun to write when my thumbs weren’t hurting from typing on my phone for 6 hours straight lmao 💥💥💥

[falmerbrook]

Re: your post about younger you being disappointed in your art now. I’m a bit older than you, and I used to let thoughts like that bring me to tears.

I didn’t start seriously working on my art until I was 19. Seeing people my age put out what I considered to be masterpieces was soul crushing. I felt like I started too late, with art and everything else in life.

But the thing is, I still did art. It’s been a decade or more now and I still make art. I have a degree in Art History. I can competently make gifts, drawings of my OCs. I can go to galleries and take inspiration from what I see. But I’m still not producing pieces on the level of the teenagers I compared myself to in the beginning. Maybe I never will.

Younger me might be disappointed in my art now, or my life in general. But I think about it very differently. When we’re young, we don’t understand how hard things are. Time is very abstract - the idea of hundreds of hours of practice, life throwing curveballs (illness, work, lack of motivation), the fact that there will always be someone younger and better than you. Kids and teenagers can’t really understand it. Because they haven’t lived enough yet.

Younger you might be disappointed, but younger you is naive and arrogant. They have the toxic and immature mindset of “You should be good at something right away, and if you’re not, you’re a failure!”

Instead of feeling upset, feel compassion towards your younger self - your inner child. They are putting so much pressure on themselves, and on you. They don’t understand how long it takes to learn skills, they can’t accept the unfairness that some people are prodigies whose parents have had them tutored since birth to draw like Da Vinci.

The older you get, the more you’ll be at peace with your practice and you won’t compare yourself to others so harshly. Younger you is stuck at a set point in development - they can’t come to peace with it. Don’t let it upset you, use it as a chance to reflect on how much you’ve matured since then.

When it comes to art, all you can do is embrace the practice. Your art is yours, it should feed your soul. Best of luck ♥️

It means a lot to me that you took the time to leave such a thoughtful ask about that little post I made. And you honestly hit the nail on the head. No matter how bad I feel about it, I'll probably never stop making art (in some form) just because it's like a stabilizing force in my life. I cycle between being happy with where I am at with it (even if it isn't to my expectations) and hating it, but I think that's just a normal part of improving, so it least it means I am, even if nonlinearly.

[unpanzito]

can you yap about your ideas for ur jeff rewrite :3

Alright, sorry for taking long to answer, I literally had nothing when you asked "x(. Now I kind of do. First of all, I'm not trying to make a super original and fantastic version of Jeff, I wanna keep it close to the "canon" and just give my little turn to it, my original part starts with Zalgo's deal, what happens before it's not very important to me.

Liu is like 5 years older than Jeff.

Jeff's accident happens when he's like 16.

Jeff already had schizoid personality traits before any accident or even suffering from bullying.

There's not a specific group of bullies, all of Jeff's classroom either talks about him at his back, excludes him or ignores him for being kind of a psycho, for his appearance, or Jeff himself provokes it 'cause thinks they're all stupid and boring, so he scares them on purpose. Randy is the one Jeff hates the most, mostly 'cause Jeff is not capable of scare him away.

Jeff's accident, and yes it was an accident, occurs in a school camp, a random kid brought their dad's flare gun 'cause they thought it was smart. At night many kids started gathering to see the gun, Randy came and grabbed it starting to aim at the sky, then he aimed at Jeff who was sitting alone in front of the campfire (it was slightly lit), deep in his thoughts, another kid came and tried to take the gun from Randy's hand, the gun shoots and hits the floor, bounces and hits Jeff in the face, exploding.

When Jeff's finally released from the hospital, Randy and his mom go to his house with a cake as a gift, Randy didn't want to be there at ALL 'cause he felt so guilty. He's sent to the backyard to search for Jeff, he can't find him at first, Jeff appears from his back and hits him with a wrench, he hits him until Liu comes running and throws Jeff off Randy, both mothers come after him. Randy is hospitalized with a very serious head concussion.

Jeff's actions were associated to his head traumatism and his brain being swollen (by the shot).

One night Jeff can't sleep and needs to take some medicines for which needs his mother's help. She was kinda pissed and done with him after Randy's and how overall aggressive he was getting, so his mother dismisses him and sends him to sleep. Jeff got really pissed off and abruptly decides to end it there, he goes to the bathroom and tries to swallow a bunch of pills, he fails 'cause he almost can't move his facial muscles and can barely open his mouth, so the pills fall to the floor. Jeff, already out of his mind, searches for a knife and comes back to the bathroom, starts to tear off the bandages closer to his mouth and after that, cuts two slits at the sides of his mouth. (These slits weren't as prominent as what my design has now).

Jeff can't feel his face, neither then nor now, but now he can move his facial muscles normally.

After Jeff slits his face, and checks that it kinda looks like a smile, laughs a bit, hears his mother walk through the hallway "Jeff, I told you to go to sleep". Then she opens the bathroom and sees Jeff. "Go to sleep, ma." says Jeff in a mocking tone (yes, laugh). There's no fight, the mother can't even scream, she faints. Idk what happens then but Jeff somehow kills her, I don't need to detail that.

After a while, Liu gets home, he's all messed up, drunk, high, everything. He sees Jeff sitting in the stairs in the dark. He tries to talk to him and ask if everything's alright, and when he goes to turn on the light right in the stairs, Jeff hits him with a mirror, that shatters in his face, he hits him like 3 more times and Liu ends up passing out 'cause of the hits, the fall and all the substance in his body. He wakes up minutes later in the same spot with a slit in his throat and cuts all over his face. You imagine all the stuff later.

I've already shared this part, where it all goes south, Jeff runs to a hiking trail or something and just lies down waiting to bleed out or die 'cause of the cold, and then a talking dog appears (Smile dog, which doesn't really talk, it's Zalgo) and offers him the deal of keep on living until "finishing what he started" (he has to kill Liu) or dying there and suffer forever.

For other part, Liu ends up being the one in jail because of the murder of his mother and the disappearance of his brother.

And that's what I have for now, at least what comes to "Jeff rewritten". I'm open to constructive criticism x), tho as I said, I don't want this to be neither the best story ever nor in any way believable, there's a demon-dog possessed by an interdimensional chaos being, idc if it's unrealistic :P.

[bearw-me]

This is kinda dark so if you don't wanna do it it's cool. Can I request Carmilla running into a son reader? [Years before she had her daughters she had a son but she was too strict/serious on her boy which led to him...taking his own life. The experience made Carmilla realize she mightve been too hard on him so when hid sisters come around she showers them with love] The reader thinks carmilla is going to scold him, scream at him or anything but she just hugs him hard and tells him she's sorry and that she loves him

i'd like to put my author's note up here before you guys read what i wrote/make a little disclaimer!

TW: mentions of harm

I wouldn't write the act, per-se, but i had absolutely no problem with your request because it doesn't really involve those details (fic wise) this one is mostly about comfort and a nice reunion!

just before you go, know your best-friend mal is always here for you <3 this and every other fic i write is my silent love-letter to you

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨�� 𝐆𝐨 — 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

𐐒 includes : carmilla carmine x son!reader, odette, clara 𐐒 cw : angst, hugs, kisses, comfort 𐐒 summary : after a few decades in hell, you decide it's time to stop putting it aside and visit your mother for the first time since you've appeared in hell. as anxious as you are, she receives your visit with open arms. 𐐒 word count : 1.1 k

The metal body of the cab rattled against the broken highway, the sights of Pentagon city flashing past you in a pink florescent blur. You sighed, slumping into the leather seats.

Were you really doing this?

The thought made your stomach bubble with new found nerves. Rolling and wrenching the muscles in your stomach so hard you suddenly had to lean forward in your seat. Forced to stare at all the dust and garbage littered about the floor.

"Oh god I'm gonna be sick," you mumbled to yourself.

"Don't throw up in my car kid," the driver growled at you, suddenly adjusting his rearview mirror so that he could keep an eye on you.

You tried not to roll your eyes, taking a quick glance out of the window just in time to witness the change in districts.

"Might wanna keep your head down kid! We're in Carmine's district now," he laughed, a hoarse sound filled with cigarette smoke.

You had never actually been in this part of hell. After all these years you've been here, watching as the districts had shifted between hands in the great soul exchange. . .

All those years until you realized she had fallen here just like you.

And you didn't really know how to process that thought just yet.

The once chaotic district was now more silent.

Shadows skulking between buildings and alleyways, making deals to sell weapons and bartering for money.

You grimaced, opting to let those images blur in your mind and let your head fall against the rattling window.

What possessed you to see your mother after all these year? Who knows. . .

It just felt like it had to be done.

Soon, the tall white building had come into view, a place you heard the overlords of hell met up.

And today, Carmilla would be here, same with your-. . .

Odette and Clara.

You stepped out of the cab, soles hitting the pavement with a tap. You paid what you owed to the driver and waved a quick thanks as he sped off, the devil on his heels.

That left you alone, standing like David against Goliath with the empire she had built.

She's. . . kept herself busy.

It's all you could think about. Staring at the gleaming tiles of the building with hesitance.

What would she say to you? Should you have told her you were coming? That you were here?

The sickness that seemed to be plaguing you had come back in waves.

The last time you had remembered seeing her, you were both alive on Earth, screaming at each others faces.

"One day, mi hijo, you will have to do everything for yourself! You will have to take over the business! YOU have to carry all that burdens us and I NEED you to be ready for that! Why can't you just see that! I won't always be here for you! YOU NEED TO STEP UP TO THIS!"

But. . .

You just couldn't do everything she had wanted of you. The standards, the rules, the burden. . . it was all too heavy for one person to carry.

And now here you were, on the white-waiting room couch unannounced.

To sayy. . . what exactly?

You bit at your nails in thought, leg bouncing up and down as you waited for your name to be called.

It was pretty empty today.

No one was really sitting in here with you.

That was a great thought.

A deep, strung-out exhale shook its way out of your lungs.

Nerves, you figured.

You didn't even know what to do with your hands, running them through your hair and rocking back and forth in your seat, wondering if it was too late to just stand up and leave-

"Um. . ." You stopped completely, turning your head towards the sound of your voice.

Just before the office doors, two small sinners stood side by side, holding a clipboard up to their faces as they eyed you with surprise.

Odette and Clara.

There was no mistaking them.

"That's. . . me?" You rose from your seat like a ghost, not really feeling anything but utter surprise.

It was the first time you've ever seen them. The same cream colored hair, the same eyes, they even stood en pointe like her.

Odette and Clara.

"Come with us," Clara beckoned, her curly hair and grey skin. . . did she look like that too? Now that she was a sinner?

Thank goodness the girls turned away from you quickly, giving you just enough time to wipe a stray tear from your eye. Estranged siblings that you've never even met. . . and you were so full of emotion at just the sight of them.

Did they know who you were?

You watched them wearily, the two exchanging quick glances at each other and occasionally, at you.

"She's right in here," Clara trailed off.

Odette glanced at you through her round glasses, a hint of worry lifting her eyebrows up "She wasn't expecting you today."

"Alright," you shrugged. I mean, it was a fact you already knew, but to hear the two of them say it to you was the final slap of reality you weren't sure you entirely needed.

The two of them opened the doors for you, watching intently as you shuffled into the room, and back at each other incredulously.

"Ay dios mio, I said I didn't have time for meetings. . ." you heard her mumble, face covered by a laptop screen, hunched over and lost in her work.

It was how you remembered her.

"Mamá," you called out, finally taking a seat in front of her desk, unsure of who or what you'd find on the other side of that screen.

With that one word, she froze still, a pair of demonic red eyes peering over the top of that silver screen.

"Mamá," you said again, a choked sound now that you realized it was her.

It was actually her.

A sinner, your mother, an overlord, who was finally before you.

It was like all the things you had planned on telling her had thrown themselves together and crumbled beneath the sight of her.

"Mi hijo."

"Mamá, I know you're mad at me," the tears came without warning, and you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, unable to keep looking at her as the sobs wracked through your body, pleading for her forgiveness "I tried my best! I tried! I-"

"Mi hijo, I'm so sorry," your mother flew into your arms, the familiarity of her love so striking that you became undone in her arms.

She cried into your neck, a sound you've never heard before "Oh mi hijo, no heavens could ever keep me away from you, never, and I and never letting you go again,"

"I love you mi hijo."

[imthepunchlord]

Just a random question, but do you like adrien and marinette being the main duo, or do you think two other people would've been better?

Yes and no.

It's kinda complicated.

So, with my long break from Miraculous, clearing out my salt mines, and doing a gradual rewatch of the show with fresh eyes and enjoying the nostalgia of what used to be, I can say I am reminded on why, we as a fandom, enjoyed them as leads and as a pair.

There was some yin-yang potential in their dynamic, specifically playing off Lady Wifi introducing the Head vs Heart idea.

Marinette's an Empathetic Head. She's observant and perceptive, the planner and quick thinker, typically, she responds logically to what's presented to her. But she does feel deeply for others, and that empathy and kindness drives her to step up and help others.

Adrien in turn is a Reasonable Heart, at least, meant to be. He works off his feelings, goes with his gut, his wants; but he's also meant to be the emotional reason, knowing what to say to ground those that are getting caught up in themselves, offer support and direction, one they didn't consider or see before.

It nicely places off that theme that there's a little bit of the other in the counterparts, which is why the two halves have those dots, a little bit of yang resides in yin and vice versa.

And between the fluff and the snark and the support/loyalty they do offer each other, that potential for them as partners and users for the Cat and Ladybug is there.

Unfortunately, the writers' bias and stubbornness ruined that dynamic. What's meant to be a partnership of equals never becomes equals. Adrien never steps up as a leader and shares the weight of responsibility, and Marinette never feels like she can ease back and trust others to handle things, making her feel like she has to solve everything and be THE solution.

There's also the factor that they decided to prioritize the romance over the friendship, which did not really help Adrien as a hero as he focused more on his romantic pursuits than being a hero, flirting at the wrong time, not taking anything seriously... it was a bad look. And then Adrien and Marinette as civilians, despite being stated to be friends, I kinda question if they truly are. Adrien never actively goes to hang out with Marinette on his own, most of the time, there's a social expectation for them to hang out as civilians, or a favor is involved.

One of the aspects that has a romance work is having a good friendship to be that foundation. But the writers don't value friendship, not between actual friends and not between the love interests.

And the third issue is their means of growth.

Thomas, unfortunately, echoed the idea that girls grow through suffering. So Marinette's growth is just having the narrative against and giving her a hard time and she just can't win no matter what she does. Damned if she do, and damned if she don't. And I got to see that she developed anxiety and has an Atlas Complex and is very stress and just...

And with Adrien, he's just stagnant. He doesn't get involved in his own plot. He doesn't step up to the responsibility of being a hero, nor does he seek to share the weight of leadership. He's handed things on a silver platter, is allowed to be upset and petty and recklessly use his power.

And all of these factors just throws a big wrench into the potential of their partnership and them as leads and as the Cat and Ladybug heroes.

Better writers can make them work. And I bet there are a lot of good fanfics out there that have made them work.

I can see that potential and promise there. It's just really poor execution that ruined it.

I also will say, personally, I do think narrative wise things would flow better if they had a kwami swap at the start. Though, this is largely working the direction canon did go and I can see how a kwami swap could've combated that.

Plagg is set up to be the ideal foil to Marinette and have her grow, as she's too much of a giver, overthinks, piles too much on her plate, and struggles to put herself first. Extra bonus that they could've been a hilarious duo to see.

Tikki's big appeal with Adrien is that she would've gotten him involved in his own plot. Would've pushed for him to figure out who he is, what he wants to do, to be more involved if not be the leader, and to think more before he acts. And there could've been some good fluff as Tikki fills the void his mom left, as she can be very affectionate and supportive.

There's also the factor that Adrien needs someone to straight up tell him when he did something wrong or uncool. Anything that's a vague hint that Plagg occasionally gives just goes over Adrien's head or is ignored.

And there is that big appeal of shifting up the dynamics. Canon's issue is that Marinette and Tikki are initiators, while Adrien and Plagg are reactors. Mixing up these dynamics would've done wonders for their characters and interactions.

So, yeah over all, they can and could've worked as leads and holders of the Ladybug and Cat. The writing just really screwed them over. Though, I will say, doing different leads for Ladybug and Cat isn't an impossibility either.

[prismaticpichu]

POTENTIAL (spoiler free) HOT TAKES; DO NOT TOUCH STOVE 🔥

~

As I continue to scarf down Rebirth food like a rabid chimpanzee, I’m starting to come to an interesting realization:

I think I discovered a new reason as to why I love CC so much among the compilation. And that is bc it is debatably the easiest content in all of the 7 series to follow/digest. Don’t get me wrong- the writing is still messy and holey and did throw a bit of a wrench into pre-established canon. But chopping all of that off and looking at the game for what it is…? Idk! It’s not too rough to swallow. We have our steady main character who we see develop/grow tragically jaded, we have a villain we relatively follow till the end, we have our side character who we also see progress/regress/however you wanna put Seph’s cheese falling off the cracker. The only really boggler in the plot imo is admittedly Angeal, with his wishy-washy good guy-bad-guy conscience, but his sole presence is still not enough to completely muddy the story if you ask me. CC’s still a fun and memorable and enjoyable ride, and the plot beats are easy to process and hit just as hard as any other game in the compilation.

Now, OBV, Crisis Core has some canonical reasons for being more linear and objective: this is technically the “real” story, with Zack’s memories and all, and so it’s freed from all that ambiguity and haziness of Cloud’s journey in OG. But at the same time……. that’s kinda my point, lol? Like, again, don’t get me wrong- on one hand, og does a phenomenal job in creating tension and uncertainty and capturing Cloud’s identity crisis by making scrambled eggs out of his memories. But on the other hand, it’s also… a taaaadd much? Like to the point where it’s nearly impossible to actually understand the story on the first go. And there’s nothing wrong with it taking a few playthroughs to fully grasp things! It adds a sense of replayability. But if you don’t have that kinda patience, the whole thing can be a tad frustrating and confusing. And, idk, Ig my point is that Remake/Rebirth kinda falls into this same trap. The games are such, such, SUCH a fun ride (really! <33), but boy do I feel like I’m untangling tangled earbud wires trying to understand some of the game- especially in the homestretch. It’s just a real big meaty sandwich to swallow, and it can be a bit overwhelming lmao. Not to the point where it ruins its enjoyability- cause again, the story’s mainly a blast- but it’s admittedly hard to get 110% immersed in the world when I’m left trying to actively break down what’s going on. I won’t go into any specific details for spoiler reasons, tho I’m sure y’all understand from Remake alone where most of the confusion lies/in which elements.

The last thing I wanna do is be too negative tho. Needless to say these games and franchise is incredibly special to me, and I adore so much about Rebirth so far. The character interactions are near perfection, the stakes have never ever been higher, and there is soooooooooooo much to explore!! <33 And it’s also prolly worth mentioning that I’ma person who gets confused VERY easily lol. So it’s very possible that I’m struggling more than usual to grasp everything, and it’s creating some skewed judgment. But I thought it was worth sharing my thoughts regardless.

Thx for listening to my ramblings! Hope y’all are having a wonderful day <3333 Keep up the hype!!!

[no-shxme]

did a talsett req (YAYAYYAYAYY thanks for requesting talsett omg) as a warmup but it turned out pretty long afdkldsfj

prompt was talon introducing sett to katarina but i did kinda twist it into it's own thing, also set in a modern au. thank you for the insp!

In hindsight it’ll be funny, but for Talon that might take a couple years. Sett will laugh about it by next week, because he’s unbothered, but stuff that’s easy for him is hard for Talon. Like being the center of attention or reaching the top shelf where all the biggest bowls are. Talon’s sleeping when Katarina comes, or he’s trying to. He’s laying in bed when she shows up, half-awake and thinking about nothing but the sound of the frying pan from the kitchen. Talon had barely slept last night, and even now he’s close but not close enough. The room is too bright and everything is fuzzy, so he doesn’t pay much attention to anything except when Sett calls, “Hey—Tal—”

His tone is funny, Talon can’t tell exactly what it is. He sits up and scrubs the crust from his eyes.

Sett will describe, later, how he’d been cooking when she’d let herself into the apartment. She hadn’t knocked or rung the bell, since she has her own key. Sett’s ears barely had time to swivel before she was standing in the entryway, staring at him in his boxers.

“Who the fuck are you?” 

Talon’s thought about how he’d introduce Sett, but not seriously. Maybe Sett could just be his little secret that no one else has to know about. He’s not ashamed of him, Talon’s just bad at sharing. But none of his scenarios had involved Katarina suddenly finding out on her own, so when they’re all standing in the kitchen he has no idea what to say or what to do. Sett turns off the stove and waits there awkwardly with his pan.

“Talon—” Katarina says, and points at Sett. “Who’s this?”

Talon swallows thickly. His mouth is dry. “That’s Sett,” he says.

“Hey,” Sett offers carefully, waving the spatula. “Heard about you.”

“Talon—I’m—” Katarina seems genuinely flustered. She stomps over and grabs his wrist. “Let’s have a chat.”

She drags him back to the bedroom and shuts the door and Talon watches her survey the room in dismay, noticing how there’s two phones on the nightstand, and a few extra pairs of shoes scattered on the floor. Katarina’s smart, she turns around.

“Talon. What?” 

The question isn’t specific enough so Talon says nothing.

“Are you dating him?” Katarina asks.

Talon nods. Kind of.

Kat makes an unidentifiable noise. “How long have you been dating? You never told me?”

“Almost a year,” says Talon.

“I’m gonna strangle you,” Kat says. “Talon he’s—” she raises her hand far up above Talon’s head, as if measuring his height. “How?”

Talon frowns. “What.”

“Tal.” She spins in a circle. “Garen and I, we’re like, a match.”

He stares at her.

“Like visually,” she says. “It’s—I’m not calling you ugly, Tal, but—he’s—”

Talon looks down at his feet. He wishes she’d never shown up. He’s too tired for this. “But he wants me.”

“Is he rich? Are you sure he doesn’t want your money?” Kat hisses, exasperatedly.

He pushes her away. “Stop.”

“Talon, I’m worried about you.” She sighs, exasperated. 

“You don’t even know him,” Talon snaps.

“Oh I wonder why!” Kat throws her hands up. “I decide to visit my little brother and find a complete stranger in his underwear.” 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Talon snaps, out of spite. “Why are you here?”

“It’s your adoption day tomorrow, remember?” 

Talon blinks at her. He’d completely forgotten. “Oh,” he mutters.

“Everythin’ okay?” Sett asks, on the other side of the door. 

No, Talon thinks. My sister doesn’t trust my judgment. She doesn’t understand all the care Sett’s taught him, or the ringer that Talon put him through just to let Sett keep him.

“I wanna put on a shirt,” Sett adds, and Talon can picture the way his ears must be folded back.

He wrenches open the door and steps past Sett into the hall. Katarina stares at him, and Talon knows she must be comparing them, trying to fit them together like a puzzle, even though they never matched up to begin with. Sett and him are not typical. They don’t fit the same way others do.

“Listen bucko.” Katarina pokes Sett in the middle of his chest. “I don’t know what your deal is, but if you mess with him—” 

Sett is flat against the wall, looking down at her. “Uh-huh,” he says, and his gaze flickers to Talon’s and back.

“I’ll fucking gut you,” she threatens. “You’ll wish you were never born.”

“Uh—” Sett starts. “You sure you’re not related by blood?”

She pokes him one more time for emphasis and stalks past Talon down the hall. “Be ready tomorrow, Tal. You’ve got so much explaining to do.”

Sett’s ears twitch back when the front door slams.

After another minute Talon shuffles over to lean his forehead against Sett’s chest, and Sett pats his shoulder reassuringly.

“You slept yet?” he asks.

“No,” Talon mumbles. Sett cups his cheek and kind warmth bleeds from his palm. 

“Go lay down,” he reassures. “I’ll be there after I clean up.”

Talon gladly obeys. He curls back up under the blankets, letting his brain go fuzzy again. Maybe Kat’s just mad that Sett is taller than Garen. He’ll ask tomorrow. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t have to.

[cantsomeoneelsedoit]

Ch 53: Have Any Black Tea?

Latla is trying to keep Bunny from dropping the core while Fuuko helps Andy get up. Everyone else is doing post-battle things, but Rip is just staring sadly...

Andy's making a point that the six of them didn't just win the battle-- all six of them survived, even Akira.

Rip tells Latla to take the Soul Caliber that remained after Anno Un disappeared, and Fuuko surprises Rip by thanking him and suggesting that he should join the Union.

Fuuko's a very motivated recruiter! She's like a corporate headhunter or a college recruiter. Rip, we offer competitive performance bonuses!

But that's just how Fuuko is! She always wants to work things out and resolve differences. She has a real unconditional love for others.

Rip had tried to recruit them when he visited them at Chikara's school, but his motivations were probably not based in his love for humanity--just look at how he treated Sean after recruiting him! Rip only wants allies to help him achieve a certain goal:

"From Under her" lol

He's not wrong. Juiz has kept a lot of information from people while expecting them to risk their lives for her cause. She's tried to shoulder it all herself, and in a way she's treated her team as if they couldn't handle the truth or might throw a wrench in her plan if they knew the truth.

And speaking of honesty, Rip and Fuuko are having a really sincere conversation right now! Neither she or Rip hold grudges, it seems.

Latla's "..." is interesting. She's basically devoted herself to Rip and yet he considers someone else to be his everything. Rip and Latla seem like a couple sometimes, but she knows that his heart belongs to her sister and that Leila is his true goal. Poor Latla!

Bunny returns Fuuko's gun and Autumn's core, which have been put into white spheres that Bunny labels with a squeaky marker, which is a cute detail.

Fuuko makes amends with Bunny and uses her catchphrase back to her. She's always so good with kids!

Latla hands Fuuko the broken pieces of the G Liner pen. Rip had only told her to get Soul Caliber, but she made a point to get the pen also and to present it to Fuuko. That's really thoughtful of her--she knows how painful loss can be and how keeping a memento can help. After all, Rip wears the earrings that Leila wore.

Rip asks Andy who Anno was and Andy answers that he was a Negator with the power Unknown. Once again, Andy is great at figuring out other people's abilities. He analyzes everything to try to discover what rules govern their power.

Rip says he hopes they meet again, and then Fuuko collapses in exhaustion onto Andy's chest. Oh yes, she does.

YES! Cuddling outside of battle! It's finally happening!

"Only ten years'' is still a crazy long time to be inside the hyperbolic time chamber book. Now they know each other even better than before and can work together seamlessly. Also, Fuuko's not as embarrassed to be close to him anymore and it's just so sweet how much they trust each other.

Juiz and her team are still in Taipei hunting UMA Summer. She's also still looking damn cool in her regular Union uniform.

The team is fighting some sort of little round creatures (Juniors?) that are causing chaos. She explains her theory about Akira.

UMA Information sounds kinda cheap tbh. How are you gonna put all that information inside "something" and then not reveal what or where that "something" is?! Juiz is right--God is actively working against humanity.

And then God takes it one step further-- even if you DO manage to find the artifact, you'll be stricken with a Negator ability that prevents you from sharing it. God is such a whiny baby. A goalpost-mover. A cheat!

That fits in with my theory that UU is about writing. Authors often nerf situations or characters because they've written themselves into a corner or have poorly set up a plotline. I'm not saying Tozuka is a bad author, btw (I think he's a genius) but this does reflect the way audiences react when things like that happen in manga.

But Akira found a way to work around the obstacles God had given him and used a loophole to get his message to the Negators. I like to think that God had no clue what Akira/Anno were up to because they thought they'd been successfully fridged.

We get another adorable page and a gag that gives our stoic Juiz a sweat drop of concern.

Say what?!

Andy didn't offer any clarification.

She tells them to head to Taiwan to help fight UMA Summer. The little round creatures are definitely up to something!

A friend??? And also, she looks great in that coat.

The story cuts to a snowstorm in the mountains. Someone has been watching the battle with Autumn.

Someone who uses a speaker to communicate is talking to another person. It seems they want to come down harsh on Rip's team, but the other person defends them.

Oh snap, it's Billy! He's the "friend" Juiz went to meet. Billy says he already sensed that she'd arrived. Interestingly, they both realize the importance of Fuuko's power.

We're also reminded that Billy can see now since there's two panels of him side-eyeing Juiz.

Billy and his accomplice are sitting around UMA Burn's core to warm themselves. They must be searching for UMA Winter, but they certainly don't look to be in any hurry. Is there anything she could say to change his mind at this point?

Masterpost

🍀☠️🍀☠️🍀☠️🍀☠️

PS: I couldn't help but notice all the pretty pretty bishounen Rip panels in this chapter. Tozuka is definitely doing this on purpose! He revealed that Rip is only a villain in order to save a person who's everything to him, then drew him looking all dreamy for half the chapter lmao. The perfect formula.

Anyway, I made a gif for the Rip lovers out there. To You, From Me!

[ctrsara]

Things I've Been Reading

Some of these are newer, some are older and I just barely read them. This is not EVERYTHING I've been reading and liking, obviously, but just a quick share!

(Also, if you know these authors are on Tumblr, but they're not tagged, please let me know, or let them know or something, so I can be friends with them and tag them!) (RECS below cut)

Iron Dad: Coming Home by JAWorley:

This is one I didn't try a few times because I didn't think I was interested in Peter hanging out with Toomes. However, I'm so glad I finally tried it, because it was fantastic, and a really different take on the whole Homecoming era. Published:2023-01-02Completed:2023-02-26Words:114889

Shake My Hand (And I'll Forgive You): by Frogdottir: @frogdottirwrites

Post NWH, Peter has been doing work for the Bugle, trying to stay afloat, and suddenly discovers Tony is alive. However, it seems like even before everyone had forgotten him, everyone close to Tony had been aware of it except him. He is hurt and angry and freaks out just a little bit. Incomplete, but 13 chapters so far, and so good! Published:2022-12-20Updated:2023-03-03Words:40572

Atlas Held by Grumperella: @grumperella

After an explosion brings down a building on top of them, Peter is the only thing between Tony, Natasha and certain death. Trapped under rubble together, well... nothing builds bonds like shared trauma. This one was super angsty, but so, so, good! Published:2023-01-07Completed:2023-01-08Words:8401

Distracted By a Dime by happyaspie: @yes-i-am-happyaspie

This is an older story, but I just barely read it, and she's been adding to the series lately. :) Peter Parker thinks he has everything figured out. Where he can eat, sleep and make a little bit of money. What he needs to do in order to continue attending Midtown and being Spider-Man. The Stark-Rogers family throws a wrench in his plans.

Tis the Damn Season (for a Christmas Miracle) by peacockgirl

Yes, peacockgirl really did write an AU of her own story (Long Story Short (It Was a Bad Time) Or AIs Don't Forget,) which is one of my favorites, and it's amazing, too. Highly recommend! Morgan just wants her big brother to come home for Christmas. Tony just wants to figure out why being around his daughter is sending him into a tailspin. And Peter just wants to survive his first Christmas alone without freezing to death in a graveyard. Luckily Morgan Stark is very, very stubborn. And immune to Strange's spell. Published:2023-01-31Completed:2023-02-27Words:23468

Oxygen and Gravity by for_the_night: @imyoursavinggrace (also, btw, people who have different tumblr names and ao3 names make me think I'm going senile. I have the hardest time remembering who is who sometimes!😂 )

A really cool Irondad soulmates AU (Sentinels and Guides) that I just re-read and loved again. It's not complete, but close. n a world where Senintels and Guides are dying out, Guide Tony Stark was very happy just living life without the responsibility of some Sentinel, but when one touch awakens a soul bond with a scrawny vigilante from Queens, Tony’s life changes forever. Published:2021-11-15Updated:2022-06-24Words:28459

A Big Security Issue by FotiBrit: @fotibrit

Short, cute, and amazing! When Peter lost his Stark Industries Staff ID, Tony handed the kid his own. That was never an issue, until Peter had to check in at the front desk. Published:2023-02-01Words:1828

Make it a Good One! by zippe

This one was kind of a unique fix-it/time travel that I found looking through the @irondad-creator-awards categories, so here's another plug for those! Tony and his mess of a fairy god spider who can’t seem to keep himself moving correctly along the timeline. Published:2022-05-08Completed:2022-07-08Words:31435

Where the Love Is by SpaceCowboysFromMars: @spacecowboysfrommars

This one was super different and interesting, and I kinda wish it could have continued. I've never seen the movie, so it was a new story for me. The Way Way Back AU where Peter is reluctantly dragged by May and her new asshole boyfriend, Quentin, to spend the summer in Cape Cod. Summer gets a whole lot more interesting when Peter makes friends with the eccentric manager of Water Wizz, who seems to take a liking to Peter in all his teenage-awkwardness glory. Published:2023-01-12Words:12948

In a Different Light by kingdomfaraway: @asyouleft

An amazing short one! Peter is taken, and Tony finally uses the phone Steve sent him. He needs help, even if it means making night with his former friends and teammates.

And a bonus:

home (is where my heart found exactly where I'm supposed to be) by ironfidus @ironfidus

Another one I found looking through the Irondad Creator Awards categories. So, so sweet and hit all the irondad feels I wanted on that particular day! Six thousand miles away from the city that never sleeps, across continents and on the other side of the North Pacific Ocean, Tony relearns the meaning of home—as redefined in his eyes by a stubborn teenager with a penchant for recklessness.

[saintnightshade]

Show Me Who You Are

(TicciVoid -> OcxToby)       

"C-come on! You've s-seen my face, ngh, you know what I look like! Woo! S-show me yours!" God, Void couldn't believe this shite, he got stuck doing the nightly perimeter check with hatchet man… got stuck working with someone who wasn't one of his brothers. "No." was the only thing he managed to get out before hatchet man threw his arms around Void's neck, hanging off him like a twitchy monkey and going into another long tirade about how 'that's not fair' and 'you've been here for months' blah blah blah… Void could feel his face heat up beneath his mask as he pried the other man's arms off from around his neck and shoved him away. Void jammed his balled fists into the pockets of his leather jacket and carried on with the check, walking ahead of hatchet man.

This place, this mansion, was the definition of a goddamn nut house, fuck the loony bin, this place had nothing on Saint Rhodes. And Mother really wanted them to play NICE with these people?! Void might be slipping into 'calling the kettle black' territory here but he did not care, not anymore. He couldn't handle this; everything here was so chaotic, people coming and going at all hours, it all seemed so… disorganized. He and his brothers prided themselves in their roles and organization back at their home. Especially Soldat and Hush, they both had their hang-ups about that kinda stuff. Were they not just as fed up as he was? Weren't they overwhelmed? Then again... this wasn't their home. It wasn't his home.

So...Maybe he's being… a LITTLE disagreeable. Maybe. Like a child being forced to move into his new stepfather's home… Eugh, Void vigorously shook his head at that unwanted thought. This is all so new, so strange and nobody seems to want to give him the time to take it all in. Not even a little. Void stepped around a divot in the ground while clenching and unclenching his fists a few times, his breathing began picking up. They'd stare at him, talk about him, question him. Untrusting, suspicious, everywhere all at once, watching and watching. Waiting for him to screw up probably or turn his back so they'd have a new place to stick their knives. It's not like he came here willingly, it's not like he threw a wrench into their perfect little routines on purpose.

Void hadn't noticed that hatchet man had stopped babbling, in fact, he had forgotten that he was even there. He was too in his head, too preoccupied with the onslaught of so many feelings all at once... A panic attack?! Now?! The crunching of dirt and gravel beneath his feet was becoming unbearably loud. His chest seemed to tighten with every rapid pulse of his heart and every shallow breath he took; sucking the life out of his limbs, leaving them feeling numb and shakey. His legs suddenly buckled from under him forcing him to kneel in the dirt, no not now, no one can see this! He was screaming on the inside, thoughts racing faster than he could grasp them and he just couldn't stop it. He can't be weak, Void is not weak! He terrorizes and maims and murders, people like him do not do this! His face was getting so hot, but everywhere else felt so cold. Sweat was beginning to roll down his face and back. His hands felt clammy and stiff and they hurt from all the flexing.

A pair of hands suddenly rested on his shoulders jolting him every so slightly from his daze, he couldn't think straight, couldn't see who the hands belonged to. His eyes were blurry from the tears he was trying to hold back and his mind was a jumbled mess. He couldn't breathe, the mask was making it worse… it was so hot, so suffocating, off off off, please. Please. With clammy hands he shakily brings them up and onto his mask and tears it off, throwing it to the side and onto the ground. Fresh cool air rushes over his face. cooling his burning skin. The only thing he can hear is his loud gasping pants, desperately trying to gulp in as much air as he can. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears and the occasional vague noise from somewhere in front of him.

Void rubs his hands over his bare face and begins counting in his head, going through the steps to correct himself. He focuses on the weight on his shoulders; hands. They're not his or Soldats or Hushs… It's hatch… Rodgers. Toby. He's kneeling in front of him gripping hard and pressing down on Void's shoulders, anchoring him, whether he knows it or not. Void takes the opportunity to clamp his hands around Toby's wrists, he pulls down with his weight forcing Toby to push down harder and he does. Void methodically breaths in, out, in and out. His head bowed the whole time, avoiding any possible eye contact, trying not to think about the humiliation he feels. A panic attack in front of anyone makes him want to vault off a bridge out of pure humiliation but he can't even do that if he can't fucking stand up on his own. He needs…

"I-I won't l-look. Just, ngh, st-top f-freaking out and breathe normally, woo, or else you'll p-pass out."

Toby's voice interrupted his jumbled train of thought, his words were surprisingly calm, and his voice was a soothing melody amidst the chaos in Void's mind. The grip on his wrists never wavered, it was steady and sure. Toby was a mystery to him, he seemed to switch from being overly talkative and chaotic to being surprisingly perceptive and calm. Void's panic attack must have damaged his brain... His breathing began to slow as the panic subsided but he did not pick up his head, still too raw from the episode.

"You okay?" Toby asked softly, his jerking to the side as did, his grip on Void's shoulders slowly loosening. Void nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He felt embarrassed and exposed like all his fears and weaknesses were laid bare for the world to see. He quickly retrieved his mask, not even bothering to wipe it off and put it back on, the familiar weight of it embracing him and giving him a sense of security. Only now did he dare to slowly lift his head to face Toby and when he met his gaze he was surprised to see, what he thought was, a genuine look of concern on his face. "...Thanks." Void said gruffly, his voice cracking a little from stress, he got to his feet with Toby's help. "I'll be okay."

"No p-problem," Toby said, giving him a crooked smile and lightly clapping him on the back. "We've all gotta, woo, have a m-mental breakdown every, ngh, n-now and then." Toby snorted out a laugh. Beneath his mask Void allowed a small smile to leak through, he knew this was an attempt at brushing off the whole debacle and he appreciated it. Void wiped his hands on his jeans and nodded. He still didn't trust Toby fully but it was as good of a start as any. "We better finish up here before Masky gets sent out after us." Void said, "Plus I'm getting hungry, nothing works up an appetite faster than having a mental breakdown at night in the middle of the woods." Void nodded his head towards the path in front of them and began walking with Toby matching his pace. "Oooo, w-was that a, ngh, joke?" Toby snorted "I didn't, woo, know you c-could do that… or, uh, is it s-sarcasm?"

They continued the rest of their perimeter check in this manner; Toby filled the silence by talking about everything and nothing while Void occasionally chimed in with his own short comments. They seemed more at ease around each other, maybe it wouldn't last but Void was pleased they at least had something positive come out of tonight's meltdown.

[unohanabbygirl]

Forever by your side x FMN crossover. Like how does everyone process Luke being able to remember again but still only having the memories of them locked at 14. Or would it be more painful that he doesn’t remember them at all but can make long term memories??

After stormsend every day they shared is gone same as before but to their own minds no chance of him remembering. Luke is independent doesn’t need them in the same way if he does remember his fourteen years of life from before. I feel like it would retraumatise everyone again after they had made peace with it the first time around.

How do they deal with their relationship to him then without him needing constant and specific care. He’s a champion SURFER for crying out loud (Aemond has heart attacks watching his husband now back reedy and tall before he filled out throwing himself into waves that once stole everything from him). Honestly story low-key ruined my life for the night. Such a horrible fate but so interesting to see in dynamics!!

Also history reading Luke’s journals?? They’d be Romeo and Juliet with the tragic end without the end. Sobbing just thinking about it.

Let me just say I love that whenever I post a new story we all think about doing a forget me not crossover. FMN is really that girl.

Anyway, this is the crossover that was promised because the idea of Luke remembering his past BUT still having no memory of his life post Storms End is just as painful as him having no memory at all. I imagine that this version of Luke and Aemond lived very well into old age so that’s sixty years of a long beautiful life together just gone.

It’s enough to drive Aemond into a depression. Imagine your spouse that you spent your entire life with not being able to remember a single moment of it. Their last memory of you being how you nearly killed them.

Yea, Aemond is always gonna suffer big time.

And as we all know, FMN Luke is very independent and hates anyone telling him what he can and can’t do. Not to mention that he’s never been in a dangerous accident such as a car crash for example, so he doesn’t have any trauma making him hyper aware of such things. Aemond having a panic attack every time Luke does something lowkey dangerous is sad yet kinda interesting because you just wanna see how he reacts. Imagine Luke doing something as simple as sticking his head out the car window while they’re on the highway and Aemond freaks out big time.

Luke no longer needing constant around the clock care and guidance is such a foreign concept that no one knows how to give Luke his space anymore. It’s odd that he seems to have an aversion to touch when in the past all he did was hold their hands and stay as close to them as possible as he tried adjusting for the day.

On one hand they’re excited that Luke has been able to live life without such a debilitating disability. On the other it gives them a sense that they’ve lost their purpose in a way. Of course as a family they don’t need to have an exact purpose other than to love and appreciate him, but to no longer have that role of being a caretaker is strange.

Luke’s journals fill that missing hole in history since the war never happened. There’s a while genre of film and media dedicated to Luke and Aemond’s heart wrenching love. They blow Rhaenyra/Harwin out of the water and thats just that.

Just imagine that in Luke’s final days he was no longer able to hold his pen as well and his hands were incredibly stiff and swollen due to arthritis. So every night before they go to bed Aemond sits Luke down as he rambles on about his day and what he wishes he could remember as Aemond writes it all down for him, signing both their names before tucking them in.

Hollywood spins these last days into a movie sometime in the early 90’s and its still the highest grossing film in Westeros history till this day.

[risingshards]

I beat Final Fantasy XVI yesterday and am still processing it. My thoughts on the ending if you're curious are past the break! (ENDING SPOILERS FR FR)

That ending was such a fucking gut punch. But also was kinda weirdly Mass Effect 3-y (though I'm sure there are lots of endings where you go to an otherworldly place to defeat the evil and fire beams and leave your protag in an ambiguous space) and I was confused at how I felt as the credits rolled and the because of that. That starlight song HUUURRRTSSS OH MY GOD. I can't remember the last anything that like churned me inside like this with its ending.

Then I was reading interpretations and like I do with a lot of ambiguous endings I tend to lean to the happier interpretations. There are too many clues for me pointing to Clive's survival, and with him casting Raise on Joshua I'm ready to headcanon the full sappy "they all made it" ending including Dion cuz if we didn't see a body fully turn to stone or get super murderized, something they had no issue showing prior, then they can all make it (copium yes I know but it's a headcanon!). I'm a sucker for soft endings in stories and softness in general and I feel like after all the suffering and healing they went through, ending with more suffering doesn't sit right with me.

But at the very least I think Clive made it. The side quest with Harpocrates hoping Clive writes the story of this all one day, Clive narrating the intro and outro (the intro narration makes little sense otherwise to me), the book in the epilogue point to him having written the thing. Though Joshua as the author throws a wrench into things, maybe Clive dictated it to him so Joshua could lend his brother a hand eh?

Also everything with Jill's last quest and the symbolism of the ending.

ALSO IT'D BE DUMB AS FUCK FOR EVERYONE TO TELL CLIVE HE HAS TO LIVE AND SAVE HIMSELF AND STOP SELF SACRIFICING ONLY TO IMMEDIATELY DIE. The Clive dies interpretations feel just dull to me, not just from me favoring happy and bittersweet endings, it just feels at odds with everything if it's all just "and then they die." I know there's more to it than that but that's the vibe I get thinking about the ending that way.

"Before we broke camp, the morning after the storm, do you know what I did? I slipped away from my governess to climb the tor. And from there I saw a sea of petals, all reaching for the sun. And I realized that no matter how terrible the night…dawn would always come. That you…that you would always come for me. And you have. Again and again."

Dawn comes at the end of the game after a terrible night, symbolic of Clive coming home and fulfilling his promise. Jill praying to Metia the whole game and her prayer is finally answered at the end is a lot more beautiful to me than just. "The star Jill was praying to the whole game was really pointless oops star go out." Her relief feels less like "The big struggles are over and the sky is clear again" but tying back to the side quest from an hour or so earlier.

The idea that not engaging with the side quests prevents you from building the community as well is really interesting, almost doing two endings that way, a bitter one and a bittersweet but maybe hopeful one. I can't imagine how beat down I'd feel if I skipped all the big side quests before getting to that ending. It's also interesting how ambiguous they left it, I don't know if it makes the ending better but it hits me harder in a different way if that makes sense. The things the other way are the state Clive's in at the end, Gav crying (I'm so glad characters like Gav and Byron didn't die but oh my god it hurt so bad seeing Gav cry there), Jill feeling it and crying, Torgal howling...

I really like this interpretation of the ending:

https://filmcolossus.com/final-fantasy-16-clive-alive

BUT! I read wolves whimper and cry when they lose someone, like Torgal did when Cid died, but they howl when they're trying to bring members of their pack home. I just feel like there's more to hopeful if you look into the text around the ambiguity than not, like a reverse Sopranos ending.

Maybe TMI too but this was my like "dive deep into this during a depressive episode" game and I was kinda going iwth the interpretation like. All the characters telling Clive to stop sacrificing himself and save himself. That hit really hard with the depression for me. So for it to end like "well then he dies immediately after" feels so against that in a way that hurts. But fighting on and defying fate could be a really beautiful thing about facing ones own struggles, at least that's how I'm feeling. I pictured my depression/anxiety cycle as Kupka and me going against it like Clive in that scene like "I will show you no pity. No pity and no mercy. Now DIE!" like that was motivational for me for my current struggles. and the ending kinda muddies that and I don't know how to feel really.

All in all its up there with my favorite FF's, with the highlights being the huge battles like Titan and Bahamut, along with the smaller character moments like Clive and Uncle Byron's reunion. Also oh my god Ben Starr was amazing, one of my favorite performances in a game ever. My big downsides were I really would've been fine with a simpler happy ending after how much everyone suffered in this game, and that the women really got shafted in this one, it felt like a Shonen Jump manga in that regard lol. Jill getting benched to wife waiting for husband to come home as one of the big offenders. She didn't get shafted as bad as Luna did in FFXV at least, yeesh. I hope the next FF has lots more ladies!

[dirtroadtooutofhere]

Chapter 2 - "Preparations" Max

ROAD! TRIP! ROAD! TRIP! ROAD! TRIP!

Alright, I’m gonna be real with you. I’m not actually that confident Canada is safe.

Is it possible? Definitely. Do I think it could even be likely? Hell yes!

But there’s no guarantees in life, especially not after the apocalypse.

It’ll still be good to escape this dump, though. Even if it’s only for a couple days before figuring out we have to go back.

Raymond takes the map and crumples it up, throwing it in the trash.

“Hey! What the fuck? I thought you were on board with this?!?”

“I am, Max, but it’s no use to us. Every last major roadway in the country is going to be blocked by abandoned vehicles and swarmed with roaming hordes. Driving through is physically impossible, and walking is suicidal.” He talks while pulling a drawer out and rifling through it, finally finding a compass and a zoomed-in state map of Florida. “This is all we get to work with, plus more regional maps, if we’re lucky.”

The next morning, I find his legs sticking out from under the car, working on the engine. “How’s it going?”

He remains absolutely stoic.

“Raymond. Hellooo. Earth to moron.” I lightly kick his shin, and he stirs.

“I’m up! I’m up.” He slides out, sits up, and lets out an audible yawn. “I wanted to. Check everything before we go.”

Sleeping beauty finishes his tests as I do some final packing, and we load everything in the trunk together. He sighs nervously. No clue as to why he’s worried, we have more than enough:

A metric fuckton of food. It’s mostly chips, cookies, cereal, that kinda shit. Shelf stable. Ready to eat. Not the most nutritious, I admit. There’s also a little over a dozen meals, between canned foods and boxed pastas. It looks like a lot, but I admit it might not last as long as I was hoping.

Some medical supplies. Some bandages and tourniquets, various pain medications. God, there’s a lot of pain medications. When did we even get all of these?

My trusty fire axe, that I used to smash windows and bust doors with back when the department was still a thing. Still good for breaking shit, but sees a lot more zombie blood these days. I kinda miss when destruction was for a cause.

Two boxes of low-caliber ammunition. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a working gun to use it with. We do have a revolver, but it’s ancient, and only fits the 4 bullets that were in it when we found it in the back of an antique store.

Raymond’s box of tools. He managed to keep most of his original set after all this time, but there’s a few odd screwdrivers and wrenches he’s had to replace with whatever was left in the hardware stores. Includes his thick iron monkey wrench, which has doubled as his go to back-up weapon when whatever sports gear he’s holding breaks.

A pair of fire extinguishers, an ordinary red one you’d find in any house, and a bulky yellow that resembled a diving tank. You’re not supposed to hold the hose by the horn, it can freeze your fingers.

Three ratty blankets and an old nylon camping tent. There was about a week last winter where a bad frost-snap caked these islands in ice. We set the tent up in the basement and laid the blankets over it, and rode it out. He was really clingy then. “For body heat.”

He turned the ignition after we got in the front seats. He pinched his nose and blinked a few times. “I should probably drive first, dude. You look like death.”

“...yeah.”

I wasn’t even out of the neighborhood before he passed out, passenger’s seat leaned all the way back. Only a handful of undead passed by as we rode towards the main peninsula. They look so fun to run over, but I guess I value his sleep. Bastard.

[strawberryj0y]

more tabiori in the latest chapter so time for some analysis!!!

ok firstly, I want to begin with the previous chapter, where Karasu and Hiori's face-off first began in this current part of the match (ch. 291)

Hiori was barelling through the pitch, remembering and reviewing everything isagi taught him and really putting it all into play, and aiming to create a 'super sadistic pass' that is 'the best pass i can dream of', and he then even offers up a challenge, 'try to come and get it!' - this is a call to his teammates to rise up to this challenge and meet the height of Hiori's ego, fulfill the standard of an egoist that is capable of receiving this brilliant pass he's conjuring.

And who answers this call?

Who meets him exactly where he's at?

Who rises up to this challenge Hiori's throwing out there?

Karasu.

Guns blazing and wearing a grin that's practically splitting his face in half, Karasu meets Hiori head-on. The pure shock in Hiori's face!! Hiori's senses here are super heightened, he's actively searching for the best spot and person to pass to to secure this match, so he must've been heavily analysing and hyperaware of the environment around him, yet here Karasu is; an anomaly. In fact, this guy's always been a major anomaly in Hiori's life. All the way back to when they first met, when Hiori was at his lowest, all the way up to now when Hiori's reached heights he'd never even imagined were possible. Karasu is always doing something unexpected and expertly piercing through Hiori's worldview, throwing a wrench in his plans whether it be of self-destruction, or doing something for himself for once; 'You came here...what a nuisance!!!'

Hiori even recalls the day they first met and the words Karasu said to him that caused his heart 'which was just dying cold like ice' to become 'faintly heated' (these are hiori's own words btw, LMAO)

So let's look back at when they first met - both in the manga ver. and Hiori's light novel ver.

From his own words to the devastating captivation he gazes at karasu with paired with that image of karasu against the blazing sunset that's evidently been ingrained into his psyche considering how he keeps recalling it - It's safe to say their first encounter left Hiori Yo absolutely mesmerised LMAO

And no wonder!!! It's like Karasu took a scalpel and cut right down to Hiori's core, spilling the one thing he didn't want anyone to know (especially his parents, who at this point had curated his life in a way where they and football were all that Hiori knew) and also didn't think anyone would know. Nobody had ever looked at him that - not like how his parents did, as a vehicle to bear the burden of their shattered dreams. Nope, the analysis Karasu offers him concludes with a major hit to his system: 'You don't like soccer, do you?' (like look at the face Hiori makes in the manga ver.!!!)

Karasu really is the first person to ever really see Hiori.

Which is what shakes Hiori's heart to the point where, for the first time in his entire life, he shares something about himself with another person; 'the hurdle in my heart dropped, and the words slipped out'

Then Karasu gives him the advice that changes his worldview completely - as evidenced by that devastating captivation in Hiori's eyes (I mean like look at how epic and majestic Karasu looks in Hiori's memory....he left a deep impression for sure lmao). In fact, he's always doing this; giving Hiori the key to becoming stronger. Melting the ice around his heart, but leaving him in a puddle, never offering him a hand so that in time, he can find the strength and will to help himself up.

That's kinda Blue Lock's thesis too; time and time again we're reminded that in this story, other people cannot function as a means to achieve your full potential as a player and as a person. They can inspire - light the fire in your heart, introduce you to this new path, but it's up to you to walk down it and grow.

Karasu really draws out the strengths in people. His introduction during the third selection places him as this guy who purposefully targets the weakest opponent and crushes them to keep them weak, this is because - as Hiori himself explains it (in their introductiory chapters in their match during in the third selection) - his analytical capacity makes him excellent at finding people's weaknesses. To win against him, you have to draw from your strengths. Therefore, you have to be strong. In a way, his playstyle forces you to play by your own strengths, since that's the only way to beat him.

From the light novel, we know that this is also something Karasu himself told him: “Well, I'm an analyst. If you stay as you are now, you won’t stand a chance to beat me." (an open challenge, subtly directing Hiori in the direction to becoming stronger)

This is why Hiori says, 'If I won't beat him...the neoegoist won't be born!!!" and finally faces him head-on. Runs into the one-on-one, head-first,while Karasu is once again openly challenging and provoking him, drawing Hiori out to just go for it; 'ordinary...or extraordinary?' Karasu asks him, as they both stand there staring into each other's eyes, sweating, panting, anticipating the precipice Hiori is about to cross, the final step before a neoegoist is born...

[QUICK SIDENOTE: Let's remember that this the same Hiori that would have never put himself in a situation where they'd ever get into a one-on-one*. This really is a full circle moment!! We've already seen how strong Hiori's become now, but this matchup with Karasu, fulfilling the challenge he set for him when they first met - it really solidifies it.

*(think back to their introductory match during third selection, when they never directly interacted at all, despite being on opposite teams deliberately designed to contain a smaller number of players to increase the probability of chemical reactions occuring between players - although they kinda indrectly did via Isagi, which I wrote about here, but point still stands lol).]

Then we come to the latest chapter (ch. 292), where we dropped into the middle of their little one-on-one:

Hiori not only took up Karasu's challenge, but managed to get past him so skillfully, to the point where Karasu's entire expression changes to assume the face he makes when he's going head-to-head with players like Isagi. Going from gleeful provocation to responding to a genuine threat. Further testament to Hiori's growth! (btw this entire face-off totally mirrors a similar interaction/exchange they had during the U20 match, which I discussed here.)

and despite his frustration with being beaten in this particular moment, let me remind you why he was so gleeful in his provocation...he's been waiting and rooting for Hiori to awaken this whole time, after all :')

When Hiori wanted them to travel to Blue Lock together, Karasu immediately shuts him down, urging him to 'go alone'. His reasoning being he doesn't want to be associated witha 'passive-minded average guy' like Hiori. And Hiori explains this as something that's 'very much Karasu', how 'when you try to get close, he pushes you away'. Which is very true, it really is very Karasu of him to put it that LMAO

and this is also an extension and manifestation of his desire for Hiori to grow by himself and for himself. Something Hiori's never been able to do, being buried under everyone else's expectations. This is in line with the advice he offered Hiori during their first ever conversation and ties into what I mentioned earlier about not offering Hiori a hand up so he could find his own strength and carve his own path.

(more about karasu's sincerity towards hiori here)

And lastly, this is just a extra thing I wanna add, I'm not sure how 'valid' it is and this has been a long post and my brain is too tired to connect the dots so idek what I'm trying to say here but Hiori's pose when he zooms past Karasu really resembles Karasu's classic move - specifically the framing of the panels, the way in all three instances they're expertly evading their opponent(s) in that flying crow/bird pose...

anyway, do with that what you will! maybe it'll occur to me suddenly and i'll come back and connect the dots some other time (if there are any to be connected lol)

in conclusion: i love you tabiori

[gyuswhore]

Remembrance of Ice

"Fear does anything but land with precision."

PAIRING: ice king!xu minghao x fem spy!reader

SYNOPSIS: Xu Minghao rules over a land where the sun never rises and crops never grow, shunned by the world for their nature so ruthless it has them caged within their borders.

That is, until you land straight into the dragon's den to find the story untold.

CONTAINS: angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, kinda lore heavy, reader and minghao are in a perpetual spat, talks of military and political power, manipulation (not by minghao), ft. chan

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

masterlist

[AN]: MIKA DAY MIKA DAY MIKA DAY except im a day late bc I don't know how to time manage ANYWAY mika my love I hope you enjoy this you mentioned villain hao that one time and I stuck to it praying this is good ksjgnvrkjgn @toruro

id love to turn this into a longer, more detailed fic in the future, I really like this concept and theres loads more I could do with it. lmk if you'd like to see it hehe

edit: had to repost a couple times cuz it wasn't showing in the tags. it still isn't but idc anymore if this only reaches mika then so be it sgnkrtjg

The cold was the worst. 

Your iced pride had been swallowed down to accept the flimsy cloth the guards that pushed you into this stone dungeon had given you. Not that it was doing much to help you, the thin fabric acting as more of a permeable layer than your gear.

Huddling into yourself, you breathe out warm exhales in the hopes that it’d do something about the face you couldn’t feel anymore. With the sight of your discolouring fingernails, you hope the people in this wretched place would decide what they wanted to do with you before you succumbed to the cold. There’s a bad taste in your mouth at the thought of dying a death like this – that the cold would become your ultimate demise. 

The croning of the metal doors of your prison wrench open in what feels like a deafening sound, the screech having you throw the flimsy blanket off your body in haste. You would not be seen taking advantage of their supposed kindness. 

The two guards that trudge in are quick to tell you to stand. You nearly laugh at the prospect of doing anything they ask. 

“What do you want?” your voice has eroded to a brassy sound. 

“Stand up,” the guard repeats, his face covered in the black balaclava that wraps around everything but spares his eyes. Cold, dark, soulless. 

Your pride screamed to refute. But you were at a dead end, and perhaps it was time to accept it. Eyeing the weapons strapped to both their waists, moreso the lack thereof of your own, you make the first attempt to pull yourself up. It’s difficult, you find, needing a moment to regain your senses before pushing up completely. You tried not to show it, not wanting to look weak in front of the very people you need to show strength. 

“Hands,” the other guard gruffs out. 

You hesitate before bringing your shivering wrists forward, cursing yourself for not being able to control your own body. The cuffs they bind to your wrists are somehow even colder, and you have to consciously bite back a cursed wince. 

Your resolve begins to truly thin when you struggle to simply take a few steps forward, the muscles in your legs frozen like everything else in the room. You manage to not fall. A commendable feat when your goals went from overtaking a couple of (very armed) guards to simply not falling over like a newborn fawn. 

You feel them lightly shove you out the gates, something you should not have struggled to recover from from, but alas, you can only grit your already ground teeth as you try to not tip over entirely. The halls of the dungeons are made of the same gray concrete as your cell, the tight corridor leading you out into an only slightly larger hall with a single door at the seemingly dead end. 

The large brass handle with the distinct reptile circling its expanse stares at you. You are forced to consider the idea that these may be your final breaths. 

One of the guards squeezes out into the hall and approaches the door, three sharp knocks to the wood before you hear a muffled “come in.”

Your feet remain planted to the floor as you feel another push of the guard that remains behind you, urging you forward as the other one stands at the door, expecting you to walk inside. Perhaps some would classify this as a moment of weakness, especially when all you’ve been taught is to face death with anything but fear. But it seeps into your bones regardless. 

You wonder if all those stories you were told of fearless soldiers and sheilds of humans were as lionhearted in their final moments as the storytellers claimed, as brave as the legends that followed. 

You considered yourself one of the best in your field, most of your peers agreed. And yet, that moment of hesitancy in the face of potential death caged you in an unimaginable retaliance. What on Earth was wrong with you? 

And so you moved forward, one foot in front of the other with resilience fueled by pure outrage at your own feeble mind. You would do as you were taught, you would march into the mouth of the dragon because you were not allowed to fear death. You refused to meet your end as a coward. 

The cuffs that encase your wrists burn at the skin as you walk into the room. It’s small, small enough to force you and the two guards to shift closer to keep from the man that stands across the room. 

You almost don’t notice him, which alarms you immensely. Regardless of the stark black attire that matches the dark, gloomy atmosphere of the tiny room, the man seems to blend into the shadows, becoming part of the walls. His back faces you as he looks out the window, like he’s invigorated with the snow that drifts to the earth. 

It’s nighttime. It’s always night time here. 

“The prisoner, sire,” the one in your left gruffs out. 

The man at the window turns to face you, the sight of his face causing you to bite back a gasp. 

His skin is the same colour as the snowflakes that fall behind him, near glistening white. It seems to make every other feature of his face stand out in earnest; the black of his eyes, the crimson of his lips, the dark of his hair. 

He’s gorgeous, you decide, but you also decide that you may be about to die at his hands. 

There’s also the matter of how he was addressed by the goons that flank you. Unless sire means something else in this godforsaken land, you should have realized who this is by now. 

Xu Minghao’s expression remains unchanged, the mild disinterest evident as he barely glances at you before taking a seat at the makeshift office area in the middle of the room. He leans back against the plush, finally regarding the other people in the room with words. 

“You can leave.” 

You hear the guards begin to file out the room. 

“Ah—take off the restraints before you go. And shut the door.” 

You want to describe what his voice sounds like, and while indifferent to another, it’s like a million icicles plunging into your eardrums. It isn’t until the guard blocks your view to unlock you that you realize how strained your eyes were, like it was draining to simply look at him. 

When both guards have left the vicinity, doors closed with a deep thud, you set yourself in steel. Just because he was about to kill you didn't mean you were about to make it easy for him. 

You wonder why a king was meddling to discard a mere enemy officer, but if you knew anything of their bloodthirst, this was a form of amusement. 

“Well?” you say, your voice still bare-there. 

“Take a seat.” He means the lone chair that stands on your side of the table. 

“No,” 

His eyebrows shoot up, “No?”

You stare at him, and it's the first time he’s looked at you for more than three seconds. 

“No,” you reiterate. “If you’d like to eliminate me, I’d suggest we cut to the chase. I don’t want your bleak hospitality.”

“Are you offering your head?”

“I’m asking you to quit the niceties. We know what you are.”

He studies you for a moment before continuing quietly, “Who is we?”

Your jaw is set as you calm yourself down, “The people who keep coming into your barren lands, only to never return. My people.”

“Your people that keep invading this barren land, only to find out that actions have consequences?”

“The mere thought of us is a consequence for you vermin,” you spit.

“Your people, you had said?” There’s a strange hint of jest in his voice, and it only infuriates you even more. 

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“Your people who have not once attempted to negotiate your release from us vermin, I thought your people were known for your camaraderie. Especially for such an important soldier, do they truly consider you that disposable? ”

The low fester of embers had now ignited into a full flame, the rage becoming near indescribable. Aside from how heinous, you had underestimated how infuriating his kind could be. 

“You know nothing of me!” your voice is loud, your own shade of venom that laces your tongue. 

And then he says your name. 

You falter. 

He shouldn’t know that. You don’t have a nametag, nothing to identify you on any record, anywhere. And yet, you know what you’ve heard is your name that fell from his lips, undeniably so. 

He continues with the faintest sneer, “Captain of the SUN team, first in line from your peers for a promotion, and of course, right hand of your idiotic General of the Army.” 

You can't be sure if you’re shivering from the cold or the rage that courses through every vein in your body. Perhaps it was the latter as you feel your mind shortcircuit at the sight of his smug face. 

And, of course, with the way you lunge. 

It takes barely a second for your numb fingers to reach his pristine throat, curling with the need to rupture his airways beyond measure. It also takes him barely a second to step out of the way, causing you to thud into the table, fingers faltering as they grasp onto nothing. 

The air is knocked out of your chest, and you don’t realize what’s happened. He’s quick, and you’re out of shape. He’s on the other side of the table, hands in his pockets as he stares at your weak attempts at regaining your bearings. 

“This is the problem with your people. Why must your first response to any confrontation be to fight to the death?”

Leaping over the table, you attempt to corner him against the wall, only to find him leap over to the other side of the table when you advance, switching your initial spots. It might have even been laughable if you weren’t so heated, like children running around in circles in a lethal game of tag. 

He takes advantage of yet another moment of weakness you’ve shown, pushing the separating table directly into you, forcing you back as you stumble to hit the window. The opening is just enough to fit your waist, with no room for your legs to leap back over, locked in at the sides of the table that effectively cages your body between wood and glass. 

Your first instinct is to push the wretched thing back, but you realize very quickly that you can’t. It shouldn’t explain how he was able to cage you in a place like this, especially with his scrawny build. Unless he’s locked it in place somehow, you wouldn’t put it past him.

“What the fuck?” you gasp out to mostly yourself. 

“You’ve weakened, little soldier. I heard you were better than this.” 

“Let me go so I can prove it to you then,” you spit, still fruitlessly struggling against your prison. 

“Had your chance,” he states, hands in his pockets, an eyebrow cocked. “Of course, fear does anything but land with precision. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“What makes you think I’m scared of you?” 

“Oh, you are such a simpleton,” he narrows his eyes. 

“You haven’t been talking about anything of substance for someone who doesn’t claim to be scared. What’s holding you?” you gruff. 

He stares for a moment like he’s studying you. For some reason, your struggling falters, his piercing gaze leaving you wondering what he had up his sleeve. 

“You know you are weak. Your strength isn’t nearly where it had been when you arrived. I’ve also been told you’ve been starving yourself.”

“I said I don’t want your hospitality!”

“You were supposedly indifferent to everyone in the room, including the guards, but you kept your eyes on me like a hawk. The first mention out your mouth was of death.”

“Was I supposed to expect compassion?” you mock, but the desperation lingers in your voice. 

“Can’t be helping knowing nobody is looking for you,” he finishes. 

“Because you would’ve sent me on my way home if they were? Don’t make me laugh.” 

“Quite right, yes.”

“Like you did with the other soldiers that seemingly disappear in your lands?”

“Nobody asked, so we did not deliver.” 

“Lies!” It comes out as a near scream.

You think of all the stretched months that turned into inevitable years trying to retrieve your lost manpower. Of course, your higher-ups asked for hostage negotiations, did everything in their power to bring them home. 

Fitting for the man in front of you to deny it, but infuriating nonetheless. 

“And you’re wildly defensive,” he sighs. “You’re scared. Of being in enemy territory, of dying, of being alone. One or the other, that’s for you to decide.”

You want to scream again. 

“They lied to you, soldier. And I may be a villain in your self-written history books, but you will come to know of the harsh truth, from me or anybody else. You should know what exactly it is that you’re fighting for.” 

“What are you yapping about?”

He turns back around, moving to the door before rapping a knock. The guards re-enter the room.

“Take her to base.”

“Chan?” 

He stands at the entrance of the tent, speaking to somebody in armor with a solemn expression. He turns around at the sound of his name, catching sight of you walking up. 

He breaks out into a smile at the sight of you, eyes going wide as he excuses himself to sprint over. You’re not quite sure if the fatigue is causing you to hallucinate, but with the way his face becomes clearer with every step he takes, you have to convince yourself that you’re not. 

As appropriate as it is to slam into him in a hug, considering you thought he was dead mere seconds ago, you can’t see yourself caring. 

“They told me it was you that arrived,” he says. 

“Oh my god, I thought you were dead. Everybody thought you were dead. How are you here?” you breathe into his ear. 

He pulls away slowly, and you note how he doesn’t meet your eyes. 

“Chan?” 

“There’s a lot to unpack here. Let’s get you cleaned up first.” 

A lot to unpack there was, you realize, as the guards leave you with Chan when said to. The questions doubled when you entered the significantly warmer tent to find it swarming with familiar faces, busy working on tables littered with charts and papers, military symbols drifting overhead. 

Chan is quick to let you know that none of the ‘fallen’ soldiers were missing at all. In fact, were stationed here at this military base. 

Your gaping mouth renders no response as he fishes you both through the hustle and bustle of the industrial canopies, destination unknown. As much as you’d kick yourself for your lack of vigilance, you find yourself trusting him to take you wherever, your mind preoccupied with trying to absorb every detail of your environment.

If this was what sensory overload was, you’re not sure you like it blocking your thinking capabilities this much.

He lets you into another tent, littered with trunks and equipment, lit with a couple hardworking oil lamps. He goes to rummaging in random trunks as you watch. 

“What is this place?”

“Inventory. Clothes and a bunch of other stuff,” he says as he throws you a pile of fabric. “Here, change into this, it’s warmer.”

He leaves you alone in the tent to change, which you do quickly to meet him again outside. Moving the flap of the tent away, you find him out in the snow waiting.

It isn’t until you’ve adequately cornered him that you can ask. “Chan, are being held here against your will? Is everybody here—”

“Wait, hold,” he holds a hand up to silence you. “Just—let me explain.”

You’re rendered silent in a corner of this base camp, albeit a little warmer than when you came in with the effective coat you’re now shrouded in. Other than being lost in a mine of confusion, you notice the calculated expression on Chan’s face when you bring it up. Like he didn’t know how you’d react.

“There’s been a lot of lies our entire life. One’s that we didn’t realize till we landed here,” he starts, facing the endless plane of snow to the East.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” you ask, keeping your eyes steady on him.

“These people aren’t cruel, nor are they the animals we’ve been told they are,”

“Chan, what is wrong with you?” you take a step back in mild exasperation. 

“Listen, this sounds insane, but it’s only because we’ve been brought up to believe anything the government told us, anything our superiors drilled into our heads. I’d started having doubts while we were still home—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Nobody wanted to tell you anything. You were more loyal to the General than you were to yourself!”

“I—because…” you falter. He was right. 

“They’ve taken advantage of the way this land refuses to retaliate. We’ve been in the wrong this whole time.”

“I don’t know what it is that they’ve been feeding you for so long, but this isn’t the Chan that left home all those months ago.”

“You’re right,” you hear, but it’s not Chan. 

Whipping your head around, you find the overlord himself walking to where you were. 

“Apologies for interrupting, but I think you’re needed back there, Chan,” Minghao informs him as he regards him.

You whip back around to Chan, “Wait, you can’t just—”

“Listen, it’s going to take you a little bit, but I promise you’ll see what I mean,” he reiterates. 

“This is absurd—” you start again but are cut off by him again. He lurches forward, grasping both your wrists in his, forcing you to pay attention to him. 

“Do you trust me?”

“W-what?” 

“Answer the question. Do you trust me?”

You stare at him, stumped for a moment. Did you trust him? Five months ago, before he left, you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. Yet, now you find yourself hesitating. 

“Yes. I trust you,” you decide out loud. 

“Then give it time. You’re shaken, you’re exhausted, you’re confused. You’ll make your decision yourself when you see for yourself.”

He watches your shoulders droop ever so slightly, a clear sign of your surrender. “Fine.”

“Good.”

You turn back to find the other man long gone, the vast expanse of snow and darkness engulfing the plane that leads to the congregation of tents. Chan begins to lead you back, mumbling about how he needs to get back inside. 

It’s during your trudge that you realize there’s something that still bugs you, supposing you’d get your answer if you asked him. 

“What’s the king doing meddling in military bases and war prisoners?” you begrudgingly ask.

“He’s very… hands-on, I guess. He cares about what happens around here, his land, his people.” 

“Like a normal ruler?” you mumble in annoyance.

“When was the last time you saw the General leave his office?” 

You haven’t. 

A month. That’s how long you’ve been at this base camp. 

Enlightenment may be an understatement to what this place is giving you, absurdities that they call the truth. Absurdities, as you may have called them a moon ago. 

This barren country did not have a military, you were told. These makeshift headquarters were made to keep up with the endless external aggressions from the other side. 

“They’re all people given the choice to stay. We needed the manpower. Military precision was never our forte,” Minghao explains. 

You hate how he has an answer to every critical question of yours, how you’ve gone past thinking this was some elaborate, well-thought-out story to put your guard down, to put everyone’s guard down. 

Sitting at this wooden table with maps and charts littering the surface, he looks you down from the other end. Chan remains silent next to you, knowing that if you asked, he would’ve given you the same response. 

“So you’re trying to build an army? To what, retaliate?” Your arms remain crossed over your middle.

“We cannot retaliate,” Chan says. 

“The difference in military power is too much, anyway. We can’t fight something that fights us in different ways,” Minghao finishes. He looks stressed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You watch him drag a chair to sit down. 

The majority of camp was resting for the day, leaving the base relatively empty save for the three of you. 

“Different ways?” you question.

You watch him close his eyes, running a hand over his face. “Chan, you told me she was smart.” 

“She’s having a harder time adjusting than I thought she would,” he chuckles humourlessly in response. 

“Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to take another month to figure it out on my own?” you snap. 

“What have you been told about our borders? Why is this land the way that it is,” Minghao starts. 

You don’t have an answer because you’ve never been told. The general was forever adamant that a land and its people were interconnected, that Minghao’s nation was as ruthless as the land itself was. 

“What about what you thought?” he tries again. 

“Nature’s weird, I don’t know,” you huff. 

“You were so loyal to a man that had no rhyme to his reason. How blind did you have to be—”

“Keep to the question,” you monotone.

He exhales before continuing. “This land is the incarnation of balance. It might not look like it, but we play the most important role in making sure your nations remain stable.” 

“Regular communities cannot survive in this weather, the livestock perishes, and crops cannot grow. Everything that makes humanity thrive remains absent here.” Minghao places his elbows on the table, hands clasped together. “But it remains like this here so the rest of the world can foster humanity; that’s the purpose of this land.” 

“A sacrifice of sorts,” Chan adds quietly. 

“My land remains lifeless so others may thrive,” Minghao finishes. 

“Why…why this land?” you question after a few beats. 

He leans back against his chair, “I don’t know. Perhaps my ancestors were cursed. Perhaps this is just what this land was made to do. All I know is that my mother and father left me the job of ensuring this place is protected, as their mother and father taught them. All for the sake of keeping balance.” 

It was wildly ironic that a place that was the definition of extreme was seemingly also harboring the balance to this world, but you found no jest in his words. You had also learned that it was the more unbelievable things here that would turn out to be most true, so you let yourself believe in whatever lore you had just unlocked. 

“So you can’t retaliate,” you echo. 

“Not if we wish to keep the peace, no.”

Chan chimes in this time, “This is all really just a misunderstanding that’s fallen into the wrong hands. The General’s a bloodthirsty fuck; this is just an excuse for him to retain power and satisfy all his sick fantasies.”

“How do we fix this then?” you dare to ask.

“We can’t,” Minghao says. “Not right now, at least. If we want to make a move, we have to grow as an entity. What your General doesn’t understand is how he’s feeding his own enemy whenever he sends some poor soldier our way.” 

“That’s what everyone’s been working on. The SUN team is nearly complete with you here. We need to equip everyone here with skills more than anything,” Chan says. 

“And then?” 

“And then we let the General know who’s side we’re really on.”

Xu Minghao had a very peculiar way as King. 

Other than remaining in the same bunkers as the rest of the population, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone besides the guards address him as sovereign. He sat with everyone during mealtimes, spoke to everyone like a friend, yet remained the one in charge. 

Over the months, you remained the last newcomer of the bunch, learning slowly but surely of your new truth. That was, until your sixth month. 

It happened during breakfast, walking out into the dark sky to greet the person Minghao had told you was the newest aggravated prisoner. You knew her from headquarters, having seen her multiple times as she trained, but never learned her name. Her brows unfurrow slightly at the sight of you, recognizing you immediately. 

You try to stay as others who remain familiar to the newcomer speak to her, adding where your credibility was due. You underestimated how difficult it would be, not because she was being frustrating, but because she was frustrated. 

With every surge of exasperation she showed, every snarky remark to words of reason, you saw yourself. A strange, heavy feeling sets itself in your chest, making it difficult to speak, difficult to simply stand there as you watch her ideologies rendered as lies. 

So you excuse yourself, moving out of the way into the snow you’d learned to make a confidant instead of an irritation. It wasn’t strange to find somebody contemplating alone in the snow, the constant darkness ready to keep everyone company. 

You aren’t sure what it is that you want to contemplate, but simply sitting in the snow helps, allowing you to remain unstimulated. The weird feeling remained, but what also remained was your brain's inability to distinguish one from the other. 

You don’t know how long you had been sitting there, but are aware of the lighter sheen of blue that the sky has turned into when you hear trudging behind you. You turn to find Minghao approaching, halting a foot away. 

“Did you see the newcomer?” he asks.

“Yeah. They’re handling it, she’ll be fine.”

It falls silent once more. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t warmed up to the man in the past months, perhaps even enough to call yourself friends. Chan had quite the role to play in that. 

He invites himself to sit next to you in the snow, letting out a deep exhale that fogs the air. “I wanted to ask if you were okay.” 

You’re stumped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well…” he chortles. “You’ve been sitting here for a good three hours, so I only thought it was natural to assume.”

“It’s not good to assume.”

“And that you can’t be doing too well seeing the newcomer.”

“...Got me,” you whisper, still gazing into the far-off mountains. 

“You can talk about it if you want,” he offers. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you sigh.

“Or is there too much to talk about?” he raises a brow. 

You’ve turned to look at him at this point, making out his facial features with the low light of the lamps that burn in the distance. 

“How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Know what I’m thinking about.”

“You’re easier to read than you think,” he chuckles. “Why? D’you think I’m reading your mind?”

“Seems like it sometimes.”

“Do you miss home?” he asks, albeit a little cautiously. 

“I do. I miss what it meant to me. I don’t think I could go back and feel the same way, though,” you answer. If he was trying to get you to open up, he was succeeding. 

“Why’s that?” 

You snort, “Obvious, isn’t it? Can’t call a place full of lies home. I can’t believe I let them manipulate me to that extent.” 

You think of the mental turmoil on the girl's face. 

“It wasn’t your fault. You were doing what you taught.”

“Other people found holes in the story, though. They saw the beginnings of what was really happening. I was so blind, they couldn’t even try to talk me out of it.”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself. It was the General’s job to be conniving. What use if his right hand could see through it. With how long it took you to come around, it only shows how dangerous he is.”

You remain silent as you absorb his words. There was truth to them, but you find it hard to dissolve it into your mindset. 

“What matters is you're here now, that you chose the truth despite what you’d grown to learn.” He’s staring right at you when he says it, something you find as you look up to do the same. 

There’s a lurch in your stomach, one that has your cheeks burning despite the temperature. 

“How do you not hate any of these people? How do you not hate me? We’re the reason your people are so detested,” your voice comes out shaky, yet thick with a weird mix of emotions. 

“I hate the ones that choose to be like this despite knowing what the truth is.”

“Like the General?”

“Like the General.” 

It’s silent as you watch him gaze into your soul, an uncomfortable feeling yet one that stops you from looking away. 

You want to kiss him. 

The thought alone has you jumping in place, shaking off the way your body seems to have seized up. You move your knees away in blatant ignorance, looking at anything but his face. 

“What?” he asks at your sudden change in behavior.

“Nothing!” you say, a little too loud to be considered casual. 

“Why’d you move away?” 

“I didn’t!” Of course, you realize how stupid you sound. You huff as you continue, “Just—I don’t know!”

“You don’t know what?” 

“Goodness, you need to learn to drop things.”

“Not when it involves me,” he says.

“Who says it involves you?”

“Do we need to go over this again?” 

You look at him in question, only to realize he could read you just as well as he could at any other instance. 

“You’re not gonna like it,” you finally say. 

“Try me.”

“Would you hate me if I said I wanted to kiss you?”

He pauses for an agonizing few moments, ones that make you feel like erupting into a ball of fire that could melt all the snow in the land. Your numb fingers fidget with each other, hating yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth. 

Minghao uses his mouth in ways other than words when you feel it against your lips. It takes you a moment to realize what’s happening and another to let your body take control.

He’s kissing you so painfully slow it has you wondering if you’re imagining it, the feeling of his surprisingly warm lips on your frozen ones. You pull away for a moment, a question ringing in your mind. 

“I’m not making a mistake, am I?” you breathe into his mouth. 

“Absolutely not,” he says, diving back in with a force not present before. 

You throw your arms around him in instinct to keep yourself from falling back onto the snow in his newfound enthusiasm. Not that you can find yourself complaining, especially not when his tongue prods against your bottom lip, urging you to open up for him. 

You let him pull you closer, let him explore your mouth, let him hold you as you give yourself up to the feelings that now, after so long, have finally boiled over.

You’re both breathless when you pull away, remaining in each other’s arms as you gain your bearings. 

“Figured it out, did you?” he asks with the slightest smirk. 

Of course, with every passing instance that he’s reminded you of the mental walls you don’t seem to have with him, this was perhaps his end goal. You want to ask when he figured out you liked him before, wondering if he had known before you had in the first place. 

He doesn’t let you, though, as his smiling lips meet yours again, chasing the feeling that's come forth after months of waiting. 

You’ll find out the run down soon enough. For now, you give into him, believing in your ice-cold heart that Xu Minghao would never lie to you. 

Taglist: @weird-bookworm @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

[phoenixglacier]

“@phoenixglacier, what about the batfam?” Wow, I’m so nervously glad you asked! You know what’s annoying about the batfam? They have super inconsistent characterisation. And their stuff is constantly coming out! And sometimes it’s really good! Really throws a wrench into my plans. But okay, I’m gonna start with my solid batfam ships are Timberkon and Damijon and leave those for later.

Dick has options, I think he really longs for a family and stability but isn’t irresponsible enough to actually bring a child into the life he currently has and unfortunately doesn’t have a partner that’s stable enough to fulfil it yet. You don't have to make swoopy changes for Dick you just have to have his characterisation in mind for when it feels off (I personally like Tom Taylor's Nightwing (2016) run for example, but there are lots of bits like clumsiness, Blüdhaveners not knowing Nightwing, and so on that you just have to mentally adjust for. Also this isn't concrete yet but: Dick is an unreliable narrator who wants to portray himself as the bright happy lovable non-lethal Robin, as a front and a cover that doesn't truly reflect what actually happened). Sorry Jason fans, the only Jason I know is Wayne Family Adventures Jason and I don't think that's changing anytime soon. Steph and Cass are Tim's generation so I see them more, and I have a special little soft spot for Cass. Tim stays Robin and basically everything is canon when it comes to this boy (we're partial to his 1980's stuff in particular). I love a lot of the artists assigned to him recently (Belén Ortega, Jorge Jimenez…) so personally I keep him in his old green Robin suit but I’ve just found out I’m a sucker for heroes switching personas to protect their main, so Tim wears Red Robin whenever he needs to get his hands dirty, and basically never in Gotham. He does live in the Marina, has both Drake Industries and Wayne Enterprises (it’s fun, just go with it), and he’s supposed to be college-aged but isn’t doing that. Do I want to open the can of worms that is Damian?

Damian. Before that, let’s talk about Jon: No Bendis. If it has a Bendis on it, it probably didn’t happen. Jon grows up normally, which makes sense anyway? I kept feeling like I was reading a twenty-something year old instead of a teenager. Anyway, he grows up normally. There’s lot of stuff planned for Jon but I feel like I’ll just tell you he does ballet and leave it at that. So! Damian! Guys I hate Damian’s canon so much. What we basically do is hand-wave and be like “So it… happened… but like… not the specifics…”. So think broad strokes. He had the Teen Titans, yes. Why did they break up? Don’t know, don’t care. Did you fix everyone’s mischaracterisation— Nope. Just imagine that the Teen Titans volumes are tragically missing, and all we know is that Damian was in the Teen Titans and they never really become friends because he was bad at it and they eventually broke up, okay? Wallace is still kinda sour about his experience with them and Wally’s apprehensive about the new team Damian is making with his kids because of that (whoops, I said it won’t come up my bad). What about Lazarus Island? YES. Again, broad strokes but Robin 2021 #5 & #12 in particular absolutely have to happen. Broad strokes: Damian quits being Robin and goes by Damian for a while, so everyone refers to him as Damian on Lazarus Island. He keeps Rose and Connor, I think they’re neat. Opinions on Flatline? Always headcanoned Damian as aroace, so actually that means yes, it totally happened and they fooled around and they broke up amicably and Damian isn’t awkward about it at all because Flatline isn’t awkward about it at all and every once in a while when they meet she’ll be extra flirty just to screw with him.

Damijon, someone reminds me. The reality of the world is that Damian’s story chugs on perfectly fine without Jon. He has so many friends it’s hilarious. Jon is the one that desperately needs Damian because nobody else ever treats him like he’s mature or capable of anything beyond the S on his chest. I’m not going to do a Damijon thesis, though. “What about Flatline?” Not if Damian can have Jon. “What about Jay?” The beauty of pre-Bendis is that Jay is automatically too old for him <3. But also, I want Jay to break up with him because realistically their wants and risk appetites do not line up at all and they don’t seem to experience actual genuine joy at each other’s success (personal opinion). Look, Damian thinks the world of Jon and that he’s the Perfect Human Being that anyone would love to have without even being clouded on the factual details of Jon’s personality but that’s not actually the reality. Jon is constantly having to juggle the demands of the world and living up to the pressure of being Clark’s son, with the JLA watching him to simultaneously protect him as the son of their precious friend, to judge him on whether he’s worthy to inherit the title, and to catch it if he turns out evil. All of that equals a boyfriend who quite frankly isn’t putting Jay first (maybe if he loved him more… but he doesn’t). I liked to imagine that Jay is like... mature enough to handle this about as well as one can handle a breakup, while also being human enough to be very hurt that the person he loved wholeheartedly doesn't love him back enough. Like there are some people in DC who would be satisfied that their partner is faithful, but Jay quite understandably wants his boyfriend to like actually love him and has too much pride to pretend he doesn't know. But anyyyyywayyyy in this version Jon doesn't grow up so no Jay (maybe they meet and become friends and Jay can be a gay mentor to him because this time he's older) and Damijon. Again, I’ll withhold my thesis because I’m focusing on what needs to be changed or kept, not my spicy actual writing that I’ve poured my heart and soul into. Of course. (I failed. I wrote too much about Jon and Jay.)

Young Justice are trying to make it in the world without overthinking it. Bart is a grad student, founding the first ever speed-aging lab (this is gonna be related to Jai’s chronic pain later). Cassie works backstage in theater. Kon does farmwork on the Kent farm. Tim uh kept wanting to pick something to do in his civilian life but he never has time and Cassie says that’s a sign that he doesn’t actually have time to pick up a civilian thing in addition to his Robinning. Oh, yeah, and Tim solos it a lot. There are villains to come after him instead of Batman for their mind games and Tim just gets annoyed and calls up Batman in the middle of the fight like “Do better! Every time you break up they come crawling to me for a rebound and it’s so annoying!”

“And you said Timberkon? How does that work?” It works because they’re all starved for any love they can get. And usually it’s just the heroes that are that messed up but Bernard is weird as heck so he’s cool with it. Kon has not truly internalised any societal messages. Tim doesn’t know how he got here but I can see him making a powerpoint presentation on how he’s gonna make sure they both get the attention he should be providing. (It goes over their heads and Bernard and Kon just lay Tim over their legs on the couch when he collapses after patrol). I would add Bart but Bart is ace and I would add Cassie but that would leave Bart out. Also I think Bernard is solidly specifically gay while Tim is bi (Kon doesn’t know. And that’s okay. Kon’s still figuring a lot of stuff out and for the meantime what’s important is that he’s happy). I should probably mention that Kon’s storyline follows Young Justice 2019 canon in terms of why he was gone. I’ve heard criticisms of Young Justice 2019 but I personally enjoyed it a lot and I’m a sucker for everything turning out right for them for once.

Oh, right, that’s where we started. I just got a flash of Teen Titans 2003 and man, those were the dark days. Listen I know I started out talking about how I pick and choose from canon, because when it truly comes down to it there’s no real thing as canon in the DC comics fandom and ended up taking you on an unmarked path down the cliffnotes of this version of the world you’ll never truly see, but it be how it be.

I’m just rambling, okay? There’s no point to this rant. You have been warned.

The thing about being a comics fan (been in DC comics for about six months now) is that unlike any other fandom I have been in, there is no One True Canon as far as I can tell.

No, seriously. Unless you were born in the last few years, your canon has been recooked into so many different recipes by writers and artists and editors who all probably violently disagree with each other. When I started reading and needed to log all of my comics to get some semblance of a reference sheet, I used to include the credits and highlight the names of writers and artists that did really well. And the flipside, you know. My own personal blacklist.

Starting out as primarily a Tim fan and a Damian fan simultaneously means I got used real fast to reading comics that sucked bad for one character but also mind-blowingly nailed it on another. What is a comics reader to do? You know, I come from certain fandoms where the canon was nailed down, and every undoing of it was deliberate, and I do do that. My 232+ epilogue of Percy Jackson isn’t public, but you better bet I combed through the canon with the same devotion that I highlighted every printed line I was going to change. But I’ve come out of comics a desensitized reader. Do I get the urge to edit and redraw every panel of Nightwing 2016 Issue 43 to undo all the truly desperate and honestly failing attempts to portray Roy as stupid (it doesn’t even work because he’s so smart he gives like 90% of the exposition in this chapter and always has an eye on the small child out of fatherly instinct) and to remove Cheshire (because what was even the point of her in this chapter? And if she wasn’t plot-relevant then why would you include her terrible characterisation for the sake of it) but keep a large chunk of the overall premise to preserve what I think was reasonable (if slightly nuked) characterisation of Damian being all huffy that he tsundered some time with Dick only to have Dick’s friend come in and he’s adorably and understandably jealous and yet he succeeds at telling Dick that he wants to spend more time with him at the end and then he and Roy bond over being slave-driven by Dick for the rest of the night… Where was I? Oh. Right. So, I mean, yeah. I do.

This is my way of interacting with media. Sure, I’d like it to be perfect and not have Fabian Nicieza nuke Damian in an attempt to make Tim and Dick more justified (based solely off of Nightwing 1996 #138 of the Resurrection of Ra’s Al Ghul series and honestly I should give him more credit because Damian specifically has a long blacklist and the only reason why I’m this harsh on him is because he wrote Dick and Tim beautifully and a few little tweaks would make me frame this chapter). But there’s a space for me to work with, as a writer.

So, okay. Flash writers are dedicated to the whole Flash cast and brought them back in canon, which is so important and useful honestly. I give the Flash family a big star sticker, formally adopt Wallace and Avery into the family, and set to work giving them daily lives. Everything’s great! (Jai. And his chronic pain. Is so important to me because it draws on my own experiences. I won’t go into it here and you’ll never get to see it unless…)

I timelines ages in the fandoms where it matters. It doesn’t matter in DC. It can’t. Dick has been alive for 84 years + pre-Robin, and he’s like twenty-something. Hitting thirty for the lols. You don’t age until you do. You know how you enter college and everyone graduates at different times depending on the density courses you take? Just me? Anyway that’s how ages work in DC and it’s not concrete and just don’t think about it.