#or like. he was an adult of several centuries when bad things happened to him but i Know that even though he corrects others

[skunkes]

talon's issue is he never wants to be treated like a child ever again but is always looking for community/family and every kind gesture or attempt to to help him is for some reason interpreted by him as being patronizing, belittling, but in the familial, Parent to Child, Authority to Child way. dis is why its difficult to get anywhere with him. He himself still sees himself as Person With No Agency, Meant to Be Harmed and Talked Down To

[mikimakiboo]

I was wondering if you were doing anything for/with the apple incident. Since it would be like, a clarifying moment for the guys in the tt gang. Like that’s why he’s jumpy and scared all the time. That’s why he was so rude and scared. That’s why he stopped talking to them, he thought they would be aggressive and violent. The servants could think he was cursed by the devil, or a witch or smth. Till it reached a high note, then him and Dream slowly reconciled and reconnect. Then night just starts pouring his soul out with him bc he’s so lonely and scared.

My time to shine and ramblllleeeeeee

Btw since you asked something about my AU just assume I'm in love with you, okay ? I'm your wife now /jk

As you can imagine the answer will contain spoilers regarding Nightmare's backstory SO I'm putting it under the cut :D

So regarding the apple incident, whenever I make AUs including Nightmare he is always corrupted, however the tree of feelings doesn't always fit the narrative, like in Time Travelers AU where Nightmare was born and lives as a noble in the 17th century and not 500 years ago as a guardian

So since there isn't any tree of feelings there isn't any apples either so there technically can't be an apple incident

So that's when the second scenario comes in handy: magic overdose :D

Basically at the age of six Nightmare's magic starts to grow a little too much, he would often choke on a black goop that would form in his soul and go in his throat for him to throw up, and it's a long and painful transformation, I'm talking about years here, from his six years old to his ten years old his magic would slowly overwhelm his soul more and more, come out of the joints, mouth, nose, eyesockets, he would choke and develop quite severe chronic pains until he's eventually covered in goop just like his original corrupted self

One good thing with that scenario is that it allows me to give him a softer personality as he wasn't exactly corrupted, his magic just got messed up, but he's still the same person as his passive self

Now, as Nightmare is living in a very religious time, everyone thought that his messed up magic and black goop was due to some demon possession or that he was cursed by either God, Satan, or any other divine force, and so Nightmare had to go through a lot of exorcisms, lots of different covens but of course none of it worked

He was always insulted and looked down upon as he was seen like a curse by himself: his father died young (when Dream and him were babies), his mother died young too (when they were young adult) and everyone blamed him and his mere existence for it and every other bad thing that happened to other people he ever talked to or looked their way

His own mother, Nim, was part of the people insulting him, by telling him that he was her biggest failure and she should have left him in a coven if only Dream didn't insist so much to keep him

So yeah Nightmare doesn't really think very high of himself and is fully focused on being as good as he can so hopefully people won't see him as a curse anymore

Dream was actually the only one to never turn his back on him, even when they were in different covens/schools (nobles were placed in special schools from 10yo to 18yo, very strict, they had to speak Latin too so that's why Nightmare is fluent) he would always send him letters, so their relationship never got too bad, Nightmare did have a period when he didn't respond to the letters but he never felt resentment or anything toward his twin because he was actually his only friend, so when they were back home together when they got out at 18 they actually became even closer because Dream was really the only one who would listen to him and genuinely love him

So yeah the two brothers are inseparable and rely very much on each other, Nightmare tells everything to Dream and Dream also talks about anything and everything with Nightmare

Now regarding the tt gang, when they learnt about the backstory they did assemble some pieces regarding Nightmare's behavior

Because his obsession with being perfect and not mixing with them, hardly talking to them and keeping his perfect noble image is actually trauma response after years of being talked down and seen as God's mistake, so now he has to appear perfect at all time so he won't have troubles anymore without realizing that this image hurts him too as he bottles up everything he feels and do not act like himself AT ALL

So yeah the backtory do make them understand his behavior better and they do feel very bad for him because obviously it wasn't his fault, he was only a child who should have gone to the doctor to have some magic drained out instead of being exorcized every two days and treated like shit

They'll eventually work through the trauma together

Hope that answers your question :D

[dadmareau]

Every kid has days where theyre just on thin ice all day. Tantrums, misbehavior, brattiness, testiness, etc until they do something thats just the straw that breaks the camels back and theyre n trouble. Whats little Dream like on these days? How does Dadmare deal with him?

Dream, despite his reputation for being a perfect beautiful child, can absolutely be a (lol) nightmare to care for on these rare, supremely awful days. He gets sassy, testy, and bursts into tears or arguing about the smallest things. Some days, he may even just scream to talk over Nightmare.

The best thing Nightmare can do is be patient and kind to him. He succeeds, most of the time.

Unfortunately, raising a kid full-time on your own (and for the first time in several centuries since you were, you know, a child yourself) doesn't do much for patience. Not to mention Nightmare has to deal with his own bad days, bodily aches / pains, and other issues. With a lot of care and explanation, Nightmare manages Dream's awful days well enough-which goes to say that he tries not to scream back and talks Dream through his big emotions and tears. It usually works.

The best way to identify Dream's Bad Days is the precursor of sullen, clipped sentences. In the morning, Nightmare will make breakfast and ask about what Dream wants to do together later in the day. Dream loves to bubble on and on about what they could do together, but on Bad Days, he will say one thing. Just one. And Nightmare immediately knows-if he doesn't already sense it coming.

Dream, when he's having a Day, will just say absolutely anything that comes to mind-even if it's rude. Now, this will happen anyway later, but this time Dream will add a certain derisive tilt to it. A motive of his sassiness or testiness perhaps comes from some Big Anxiety about Mister Mare secretly hating him or wanting to leave him behind, so Dream tries to make it happen. An adult being super nice and existing outside of the rules of his reality just couldn't be true.

Another motive would be some part of Dream feeling very guilty about his brother's disappearance. Of course it wouldn't make sense for Dream to be guilty, but as a child, he has no idea how to manage the grief of losing someone very important to him. Additionally, as a child who is given the burden of responsibility for everything he knows, he is going to feel guilty.

Therefore, he tries to trigger a big response of punishment from Mister Mare, so he feels better or validated in his guilt. He doesn't do it with the pure idea of 'oh, I'm responsible for my brother's disappearance,' but more so the idea of 'I'm bad. I should be yelled at.' He doesn't connect the two ideas, but they're rooted together.

Nightmare doesn't really know or piece together these motives until later on. Even if he did, he isn't quite as experienced or confident enough to take them apart and most effectively help Dream with them. All he can do is teach Dream how to deal with his emotions in a healthy way, and to talk to him about them.

Then, there are times when the two are both having an Awful Day. So, what will happen is that Nightmare sits in his rage corner, Dream sits in his rage corner, and the two face away from each other until they can talk about their feelings. This gets implemented after a particularly awful fight between the two that ends in tears.

[nhasablogg]

I once read a fic that was about Spencer accidentally handcuffing himself to his bed cause he was practicing escaping them and Derek found him and basically nsfw things went down BUT what if you replaced the nsfw activities with tickles 👀👀👀

Spencer wouldn’t necessarily call himself someone who was prone to luck, other than the fact that he was born as a white male in the 20th-21st century, and really, he was one among many. Sometimes he even considered this a misfortune seeing as certain things were now expected of him which he very rarely managed to fulfill. He was skinny and fidgety and intelligent in a way which had always made him an outcast in certain areas of his life. And with outcast he meant severely bullied as a child and not always warmly received as an adult. And it was fine. He didn’t care. Who was he to wish for a community anyway.

He was around nine - no dad, mom acting in a way he yet couldn’t comprehend - when he decided that luck was not on his side and that he would have to fight for everything in his life other than a splash of white male rights, and so he had never really considered himself very lucky.

Until Derek Morgan entered his bedroom one random Friday evening without having been invited, that was.

“What the hell?”

“I would say the same thing - because how the hell did you even get in here - but I have frankly never been happier to see you in my life.”

“Reid, what- is it an UnSub? Wait, we’re not even working a case.”

“It’s not an UnSub.”

Something flickered across Derek’s face. “Is it a lady?” His wagging eyebrows were enough to have Spencer flushing, until he added “or a gentleman, I don’t judge,” which really had him wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

“It’s not. Shut up.”

“Are you really in a position to be rude to me here, pretty boy?”

Derek was, of course, right. Spencer shifted, grateful that he was at the very least sitting on the bed rather than the floor which had been his first choice before he’d changed his mind about forty minutes ago. “Sorry, sorry, just- get me out of here, please.”

Derek hummed as he approached him. “Well, you did say please. But I gotta know how this even happened first. You owe me that much.”

“I think you owe me an explanation as to why you’re barging into my apartment.”

“I think I barged in just at the right time, didn’t I?”

Spencer relented. “I was trying to practice my escape skills.”

“Ah. And then you couldn’t escape.”

“Something like that.”

“What was your plan for this exact scenario then?”

“I have brunch plans tomorrow with Garcia and she would eventually realize something was up and find me. Or the cops would. I don’t know.” He pulled at his trapped arms, grateful that the handcuffs at the very least weren’t messing up his blood circulation. They were merely tight enough to stop him from slipping out, cuffed to his sides in a way that didn’t hurt. He’d decided he wanted to start slow, not realizing he wouldn’t get any further than this.

“That would be like 15 hours from now.”

Derek was blinking incredulously at him. It was embarrassing. Maybe being found by Garcia in 15 hours would’ve been better.

He averted his gaze. “I know. I just- I guess I wanted to prove myself.”

Derek sat down on the mattress next to him. “To the team?”

“And myself.”

He sighed. “We’ll have a proper talk about this eventually. I guess I should get you out first. Where’s the key?”

“Uh.”

“Spencer.”

“I’m not sure?”

Derek moved his gaze to the ceiling. “Of course you’re not. Why would this rescue mission be easy.”

“I thought I’d get out without it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, well, clearly you overestimated yourself.” Spencer caught the moment Derek regretted his words, but he couldn’t blame him. Spencer had been doing too many stupid things recently in an attempt to prove himself. A bad decision during a case and a scolding later, he’d started doubting his abilities as an agent in the field. Hotch had told him he could stay behind the scenes if he preferred, but that his analytical skills were useful in the place of action too. And so Spencer had tried to improve.

Clearly it wasn’t working.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, no, I get what you mean.” He leaned his head back. “Just get me out of here.”

“How exactly am I supposed to do that without a key?”

“You’re an FBI agent, aren’t you?”

“Ha ha smartass.” He poked Spencer’s side, most likely out of habit, but Spencer, who couldn’t move away from it properly, tried to jerk back which merely resulted in him slamming himself against the headboard. “Jesus, sorry, sorry.” But Derek was laughing and Spencer was too, maybe out of nervousness, maybe because this whole situation was ridiculous.

“It’s okay,” he said, suddenly blushing for the second time since Derek walked in on him. “I wasn’t prepared.”

“Downplaying your ticklishness, I see.” He leaned closer, grinning. “I have you right where I want you, you know. I could even tickle your neck since you never let me do it without freaking out.”

Spencer could feel the ghost tickles beneath his chin, which wasn’t helped by the fact that his collar was touching his neck already. “You wouldn’t.”

“Are you so sure about that?” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “It would be soooo easy. You wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

Spencer started giggling, which was probably the most embarrassing thing he’d done during this whole interaction. “Derek.”

“There we go. There’s that smile.” He leaned back again with a laugh. “I won’t do it, but it’s fun teasing you.”

“You’re an asshole.” Spencer turned his head away from him in an attempt to compose himself, and as he did - surprised squeak, sigh of relief - he caught sight of the key on the floor in front of his closet.

“Hey,” he said later, when he’d been freed and fed and, yes, somewhat tickled to death. “Why did you come here?”

Derek put down his burger. “I was bored. You weren’t answering your phone. Was gonna bug you to entertain me.”

Spencer let out a laugh. “Well, did I?”

“Oh, very much so.”

[albentelisa]

Hi!

Here's an interesting idea. What if Jim had actually been born a member of the Arcane Order, but eventually switched sides like Nari due to Bellroc and Skreal resurrecting Arthur who he couldn't stand?

Well, I'm rather fond of a juvenile deity archetype, so...

In this AU, Jim was born (well, more like 'created' by the Arcane Order) during the times when the Arcane Order started giving up on humanity. He was meant to be a 'judge' kind of deity (his element is lightning), so he is capable of destroying humanity - back then, the Order was reluctant to unleash the titans and overwrite the world, so creating someone who would correct mistakes of the world they created, seemed like a better solution.

Jim was still a child (despite being several centuries old) during the Camelot times, and his views about the world were pretty much black and white. He was deadset that humanity was bad and should be eliminated (like it was his role to do that eventually) and Arthur was pretty much the embodiment of all the worst traits humans possessed. Jim not only couldn't stand him, he absolutely loathed Arthur (well, Merlin as well, but we'll reach that point later).

Nari's betrayal hit Jim a lot, but unlike Bellroc and Skrael, he was absolutely convinced that humans had deceived and corrupted her. He wanted to 'save' her from them. Moreover, when Bellroc and Skrael resurrected Arthur, claiming it was for the better outcome, Jim got his own idea about what exactly had happened. From his point of view, Bellroc and Skrael had also fallen and were manipulated by Arthur. So Jim planned to escape and save his family.

And, at first, he didn't manage to escape, unlike Nari. Jim may know a lot about the Arcane Arts (way above even skilled wizards), but it's still below the level of any adult Arcane Order member, not to mention that he has no outside allies (unlike Nari who went to Merlin). So he was brought back and scolded - several times actually as he kept making attempts, adjusting his plans each time.

Jim comes to the conclusion that Bellroc and Skrael can track his magic signature, and attempts to mask it. It backfires and Jim somehow ends up in the body of a mortal human kid around five years old. It's when Barbara and James find him.

At that point, Jim thinks that his outright humiliating position won't last for long and that he can revert it (spoiler - he can't). He doesn't care that much about any cover story, and he just picks James's name (as any name would do, honestly, and he isn't that versed in human names). Initially, Jim ends up in the police and after a lot of misfortunes (and nobody being able to locate his family) Barbara talks James into adopting Jim.

James, however, doesn't like Jim at all (well, simply because Jim is uncannily creepy). The dislike is mutual, to be honest. On the other hand, Jim takes a liking to Barbara (to the point that he is willing to admit that there is ONE good human in the world). James and Barbara start to drift away, and James leaves(though, to be honest it would happen in any case).

Meanwhile, Jim tries to get his deity form and powers back without any success. The only good thing is that Bellroc and Skrael can't find him now (so he technically got what he wanted). Jim befriends Toby (and good human status goes to the second person), then he gets attached to Nana... The list keeps expanding (including his eventual crush on Claire) and Jim starts to genuinely appreciate his mortal life.

Growing up as a mortal human gives Jim another perspective, and he realizes that Nari actually tried to save the world when she ran away. Now Jim feels he should try to find a way to create a world where humans and magical creatures can coexist. However, he still thinks that Bellroc and Skrael are manipulated by Arthur.

No one knows Jim's secret though. He doesn't believe that sharing his secret will change a thing.

And then the amulet happens - which is, surprisingly, a lot. Jim has nothing against trolls (he's supposed to be magical creatures' protector), but being Merlin's champion is the bitter pill to swallow. Jim tries to tinker with the amulet a bit to break any connection it may have with Merlin (especially 'for the glory of Merlin' command - that one is like a major insult to Jim). Unfortunately for him, the amulet is more connected to stones' magic which is more of Nari and Bellroc's domain. Jim simply doesn't have enough knowledge, which leads to the amulet malfunctioning for him a lot - he might know enough not to break it for good, but it still lacking to make it function like intended).

When the lightning hits Jim during the incident with stalking, he recovers some of his control over electricity. Blinky mistakes it for Jim having some wizard ancestry. And Jim wonders if he can fully reverse his curse (as he feels he could do more in his original body).

Angor's curse doesn't work on Jim, which makes him curious. Angor deduces that Jim has to be a more powerful being, but he keeps the knowledge to himself. Later he makes a deal with Jim - and Jim agrees to liberate him as he feels sorry for Angor. From that point, Angor Rot is Jim's secret ally - and he fakes putting a binding spell on Barbara.

Angor also 'accidentally' drops the shadow staff as a handicap. Claire picks it up. Angor warns Jim that shadow magic is dangerous and corruptive, but Jim dismisses the warning (he has seen Morgana, but somehow missed her unstable state).

Angor gets his soul back in this AU and Jim captures Strickler (he talks him into changing sides eventually. However, Jim still goes to the Darklands alone - simply because he believes he shouldn't needlessly endanger any of his allies (and everyone will give piece of their mind about it later).

Much like in the canon, Jim gets Enrique out but gets captured and the bridge is destroyed. As Aaarrrgghh never temporarily dies here, Angor is the one who offers his body as a vessel for Kanjigar (as having no soul for some time made him a fitting candidate for a medium.)

Gunmar is still out, and eventually, the time comes to contact Merlin. It's something that Jim is heavily against. Merlin is on his shit list, much like Arthur. Jim begrudgingly agrees in the end, but only after Claire gets possessed by Morgana.

Speaking about the possession, Jim unwittingly creates a telepathic link with Claire after traveling to the Shadow Realm and now they both can sense each other's emotions. Claire figures out that Jim is hiding something from her and others and talks Jim into confessing his true identity. And somehow, without the burden of that secret, Jim feels much better.

The team finally goes searching for Merlin as Jim steels himself for the meeting. He doesn't plan to reveal himself to Merlin, hoping that somehow everything will be fine, but Merlin learns his identity at once, sensing the Arcane Order energy in him.

Merlin doesn't trust Jim in this AU, thinking that Jim fakes the love for humanity. Merlin has known only past Jim who was full of destructive urges and he believes that nothing has changed.

Jim is willing to swallow his pride and actually ask Merlin for help. He feels that he needs his full power to fight Gunmar, but Merlin tells him it's impossible to break the spell that turned Jim into a human. Jim suspects it's a lie and Merlin simply doesn't want to cooperate (which is true as Merlin believes that full-power Jim is a way bigger danger for humanity). Merlin gives a different suggestion - he will help Jim temporarily unleash more of his magic, but as a side-effect, his abilities will be sealed for good afterward. It's not an easy decision for Jim, but he agrees.

The thing that neither Jim nor Merlin has anticipated is that when the Green Knight attacks and Jim is hit with the obsidian shard, both Merlin's seal and Jim's spell start to deteriorate, bringing Jim's original form and powers back (ironically, it happens when Jim comes in terms with his new mortal status). Moreover, when Jim cast the spell he was a child deity, but now he is close to an adult one and is even more powerful. The Green Knight has no control over him, but Bellroc and Skrael actually can manipulate his mind, seizing control and bringing Jim back to the Order.

Nari prompts Claire to use the telepathic link to reach Jim and she manages to help him break free.

Now it's two Order members vs two. Nari goes against Skrael and Jim fights Bellroc, while the team deals with the Green Knight.

Jim doesn't get Excalibur here - he leaves it for someone who will be humanity's champion. He and Nari decide to work together and actually build a world where humans and magical beings live together.

[bafflement]

Deaged Oz AU - You're Grounded, Tip!

Tip woke in a cold sweat, staring around at his surroundings, briefly unsure as to where he was. He’d been trapped somewhere cold and dark, alone, with no hope of rescue. But the room he found himself in didn’t match, it felt safe, familiar. It wasn’t that terrifyingly small place he’d been. The walls weren’t closing in. What was going on? As the nightmare faded slightly, he felt himself relaxing. He was safe, while that tiny cramped space had existed once, he hadn’t been trapped there in centuries. It wasn’t him who’d been trapped, not really. He wasn’t going to risk going back to sleep, though… he really didn’t like small dark spaces and he had a sudden feeling that that dream might have been a large part of why, but he was safe here. He was in the room he shared with Oscar, his brother still fast asleep in the bed opposite. Oh, but in so many ways, that was a blessing. Oscar could sleep through just about anything, so when James had stated that he would feel safer if Oz was in a room with someone else, just in case, Oscar had volunteered pretty quickly. He would have felt so horrible, had it been one of the others. They needed their sleep too, after all! He was aware that was slightly hypocritical, but everybody kept telling him just how safe Atlas was as opposed to the other kingdoms, surely him sleeping alone wouldn’t have been that bad? The others all did, after all, it had even been one of the perks that had convinced them to stay in Academy dorms.

Huh. Maybe he could convince someone to let him sit in on a few classes one day? Just so he knew how Atlas Academy worked, the place he might have even attended had things gone differently all those years ago. But then, if the stories he’d been told of his frail, sickly self before he was snatched were true, would he have done? Would anyone ever have allowed it? He knew, of course, that the main reason he was no longer that sickly child was because of his Aura, but for most people Aura... helped, but did not cure. He was different, there, too. Maybe because of that second presence, maybe not. He’d been far too young when all this started to ever really know the difference and the pre-merge memories of his predecessors were… hazy, at best. Sometimes, that was probably a blessing though.

He sent a fond look over at the still sleeping Oscar, but made no move to wake him. Let him sleep, at least one of them should be able to. Ah well, he was awake now, he might as well take advantage of that fact and get some work done. There were several things he needed to look up and the library wasn’t that far away. He loved that it was open all night, though that made sense with the amount of students Atlas Academy had. You never knew when someone would forget their homework until the last minute and need to pull an all night study session, or worse, have to cram for a test. He thought back to similar situations at Beacon and couldn’t help but smile, albeit slightly sadly. For so long, that place had been his home, but there was no going back now. He just hoped the students were alright, though he’d only heard of one death at the time, there was no guarantee the others were still safe now.

Oh, Pyrrha. She’d never been meant to die as his school fell, she should have lived a nice long life, been happy even if she wouldn’t have been safe. He tried to think about just why his adult self had decided that she was the best suited to be the Fall Maiden, but no matter how hard he tried, the memories wouldn’t come. It was probably the trauma from the fall, from almost dying and waking up as a ten year old, but that didn’t excuse it. She was just one more mistake, one more decision that should never have been made.

He needed to stop thinking like that. What was done was done, all he could do was try to ensure that it couldn’t happen again, that everybody else was kept safe. He wasn’t sure quite what he’d do if he lost his friends, his brother… Qrow. He wasn’t going to think about it, it hadn’t happened and it wasn’t going to.

Research would distract him. He scrawled a quick note and left it on the desk, better for the others not to think he was missing, but he really didn’t want to wake anyone this early. They’d see the note when they woke up, everything would be just fine.

The corridors were deserted as he made the familiar trek to the library, though he wasn’t expecting anyone to be around at this time of night. The lights flickered on and off again as he passed, one of the things he quite admired about Atlas. There was such a thing as too much technology of course, but in this case they’d got the balance just right. He just hoped the books he needed tonight wouldn’t be on too high a shelf. Oh, there were always a few librarians there on the night shift but he really hated having to ask for help reaching things. He couldn’t wait to be tall again, to be able to do all these things himself.

He knew that would take some time, but the part of him that was eleven was impatient and he had to admit to himself that everything was easier in a larger form. He thought he might be faster and more flexible like this, though, which helped in fights if nothing else. But sometimes people didn’t want to fight him, didn’t want to hurt the child he appeared to be and he hated that. He wasn’t actually a child, not really. He was more experienced at fighting than any of them, yet they couldn’t bring themselves to try.

There were a few people scattered throughout the library as he entered. Nodding to the receptionist, he moved towards the shelves purposefully. He tried to ignore the soft smile they always gave when they saw him, since he knew that was mostly down to his age. At least, he’d never seen them react that way to anyone else and he was pretty sure he wasn’t really that abnormal a person to find amongst books by now.

Oh good, the geography texts he was after were located on lower shelves, he wouldn’t need to make a nuisance of himself by asking for help. Carrying them to a desk one by one, he settled in to read, pulling out a notebook to make notes. He liked it like this, when he could relax and just read, take notes and forget to worry for a few hours.

Oscar was panicking. When he’d woken, it was to find Tip’s bed empty, though it did look slept in, there was no sign of his brother. He hadn’t been in the common room either, nor anywhere else he could think of to look. Oh no, what if he’d been snatched in the night? It might not even be Salem, there were quite a few other people who didn’t seem to like Tip very much, though thankfully his friends had mostly gotten over that. By the time General Ironwood entered, Oscar was far from the only one worried. Nora was pacing up and down the carpet, looking terrified for him and even Ren telling her that he was probably okay wasn’t seeming to help. Ruby was muttering to herself and Weiss was busy taking the common room apart, looking for her uncle. The note had slipped off the desk in the confusion, nobody had noticed its presence.

They’d tried scrolling him, of course, but there hadn’t been an answer, Sometimes Tip would forget to reply if he was busy enough, but it was a rare occurrence and usually, if he was that busy then the others would know. Tip was small, yes, but why would he disappear?

Technically he could and had pulled that trick in the past with his semblance, but that was mostly just to get out of playing games or, once, to win a fight. Vanishing like this, causing everybody as much worry as he had was something they all knew he’d never deliberately put them through. But there wasn’t anything to suggest that he’d been snatched, either. The tracker the General had woven into his hair was pinging as within Academy grounds, though he couldn’t really narrow it down beyond that. Ironwood’s eyes narrowed, he might need to correct that particular oversight. Tip knew he was being tracked, surely he couldn’t complain if the tracking got more efficient? The better they could get it, the more they could help others who became targets later on, or at least was the excuse he was planning to use.

They started to fan out, checking places they thought Tip might be. Wherever he was, though, he’d be in so much trouble when they caught up to him. He needed to realise that doing this worried them. They all knew he had a hard time believing that people cared, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t.

Tip, in the library, was too deeply engrossed in a book to realise he was being scrolled. He’d moved on to sciences, looking for ways to disrupt Watts while they still could. He was pretty certain that most of them would have been looked into, but it was always possible that they’d overlooked something simple by dint of assuming it needed to be complicated. That had happened far more times than he liked to think, over the millennia. It wasn’t even like this was a problem that hadn’t happened before, though he couldn’t fully recall how it had ended last time. They’d find a way, they had to.

He flinched, feeling a sudden hand on his shoulder and blinked up at James’ angry face. He swallowed, what on Remnant could he have done, to make his friend that furious with him? He couldn’t think of anything, but obviously something had to have happened.

“… James?” He ventured softly, looking up at him, eyes wide and confused.

James snarled. “Wintertip Pine, where were you. You went missing, do you know how worried we’ve been?”

“I left a note.” Even to his own mind, it didn’t sound like the best excuse. But he had!

“What note and where?” James didn’t sound amused, but there was a note of doubt to his tone. Oz wasn’t likely to lie to him, but if he’d been informed then he would have remembered.

“On the desk? I didn’t want to have to wake anyone, and it’s just the library.”

“You know damn well you’re a priority target, Oz. You don’t get to just disappear like that. Wake us next time if you need to be somewhere else!” The frustration in James’ voice was almost touching, though Tip really hadn’t meant to cause it.

“I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time.” He admitted, trying to ignore just how scary James was like this. He might have been intimidated as an adult, but as a child?

“You’d better. Now get back to the common room. Oh, and you’re grounded by the way.”

Tip’s mouth opened to argue, but he thought better of it. Oh no, if his friends were that worried about him, what must they be feeling right now? What had he done?

On returning, the others made something of a fuss of him. Tip wanted to complain, but under the circumstances, discretion was likely the better part of valour. He resolved to wake James, specifically, next time. After all, if he was going to be grounded for leaving a note, then James could bear the consequences. He never had liked being woken up too early, but then this time he’d even asked for it.

The note lay undiscovered for almost two days. Tip felt rather vindicated when they found it, not that that got him out of being grounded. He had to admit, rather sourly, that James might have a point. Like this, he was rather vulnerable. He could look after himself just fine, under normal circumstances, but the possibility had existed that Salem might have had him snatched.

That would have been a very bad thing indeed.

[flightfoot]

I'm going to play devil's advocate and say two controversial statements: people are unfair to the Miraculous Order and they weren't entirely wrong.

The order in general and Fu and Su Han as its only representatives are treated in a generally unfair manner, I am convinced that this has to do with the mentality that any institution is by nature corrupt, wrong, and must be destroyed.

Kwamis are dangerous, they are essentially little chaotic gods that can cause chaos and destruction if they get out of control. Plagg literally wiped out the dinosaurs. Plagg can cause an extinction for shits and giggles. And the rest are no less dangerous. Tikki being one of the most sensible we saw her lose control over a piece of candy. All the Kwamis become unruly during the chapter that they can see Master Fu again but that is especially noticeable with Wayzz because he normally appeared calm and serene. Fu destroyed the order due to misuse of the Miraculous.

Miraculous being restricted and having safety features is, in the first instance, a good thing in general. That doesn't mean that they, as sentient creatures, don't deserve better. Marinette's treatment of them is better and correct, but the security features and restrictions were not something bad or illogical nor do they indicate that the order was hungry for power. Both Fu and Su Han point out that they are supposed to be used for the benefit of humanity at large and we see the opposite with the alternate world.

And seeing the consequences of the others Marinette and Adrien and that Gabriel literally lost his sanity in a visible way, I think we can also say that his rules and others features like age restriction are GOOD.

Did they need to change? Yes, of course they did. But somehow the benefit that is given to other characters never seems to be given to the Order.

Fu was a child, he should never have been hungry, especially not as part of his practices and trainings . It was also very common at that time. The two facts are not mutually exclusive, nor was it done with malice.It also seems to be omitted that they SAVED Fu. I remember he saying that they pushed him with the grimoire and the Miraculous box and instead of looking for some explanation that was at least charitable It is ignored and only talked about how evil they were and how that incident shows that they were rotten.

The way Su Han is treated also omits that as an adult he is doomed to be useless. Fans looking for psychological explanations to talk about how horrible the order is don't like to talk about how they appeared several centuries later in an unknown world that had moved on without them and how disorienting and terrifying that must have been.

The part about not wanting to move forward and being morally superior has also been proven to be a lie. The guardian who appears at the end of the NY special smiles when he is offered the chance to work together, Su Han always ends up giving in to what Marinette wants and agreeing with her that her method is better (even when I think he was the one who was right about knowing CN's identity) and has currently trained Luka and spent time with him. If anyone is a moral center and someone who adapts well it is him.

We don't really have that much information on them, but most of the headcanos analysis, and theory doesn't even use what we actually have because they start from the idea that they're some kind of secret bad guys.

I'm not gonna argue that the age restrictions are a problem, I do agree that given what we've seen happen when those are lifted prematurely, it's best to have them in place.

I don't know about the Order being "secret bad guys" exactly, but they ARE sketchy.

While getting Fu to take the miracle box and grimoire and seemingly buying time for him to escape is good, it doesn't mean that the Order is all that great. They're not EVIL, and they at least believe themselves to be good, but have a very flawed way of going about it.

The negative perception of Su Han isn't just because of how he's treated Marinette (and I'm actually kind of annoyed at how easily he folds to he whenever pressed), it's also the way he treated Fu. It's messed up that he, as an adult, seemingly regularly mocked Fu, a then-12-year-old, with the insult "chicken-legs".

They're not villains, and they're not wrong about the Miraculous being dangerous, but they haven't handled the responsibility they've declared for themselves very well.

[wtl-archive]

Intermission 06: Now The Sun Begins To Set

Content warning for child death.

Steven learns early on to keep most of his gem powers a secret outside of Beach City, especially his ability to heal. He had done so much for the Earth already, saving it from total destruction on more than one occasion; for now, he could take a break and let people solve their own problems. Connie was quick to remind him of that whenever he started to slip back into bad old habits, feeling the need to carry the world on his shoulders, to make every problem his responsibility. He was under no obligation to heal anyone. His powers were his to do with as he pleased. Eventually, he opens up Rose’s Fountain to the public, so that anyone can use it’s magic to heal themselves free of charge. But there’s one thing that the fountain’s water can’t do; bring back the dead. As he gets older, it’s something that constantly lingers at the back of his mind. He revived Lars, his mother revived Lion. If someone else close to him dies in the future, would he revive them too? Should he even do something like that again? The best way to know for certain was to ask. So, when he turns 21, he goes around Beach City and asks his friends and family a simple question: When your time comes, do you want to be brought back? To his surprise, most say ‘No.’ And to his dismay, most instead request for their children to be saved, should they die.

He lets the answers whirl around in head for several days. He knows that eventually, people and animals revived will still pass away, but if Lars is any indicator, it’ll be a long time before that happens. Despite being a few years older than him, Lars hasn’t physically aged a day. Lion was just as healthy as ever, and he was almost certainly a few centuries old. What would happen if he revived a child, then? Would they be stuck in the body of a ten year-old for several decades, for centuries even? He couldn’t imagine how terrible that would be, to have the mind of an adult but be stuck as a kid. It’s with a heavy heart that he makes a rule for himself; he would never bring back someone under the age of 16. He tells the people he talked with about this new rule, and even though they’re not thrilled with the news, they understand. Over the next 5 years, he only has to use his revival power once. The second time he’s forced to use it, it nearly breaks him apart.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This couldn’t be happening, he refused to believe it.

Steven always wanted kids, and while Connie was hesitant towards the idea at first, she warmed up to it quickly once one of the pregnancy tests came back positive. The doctors warned them both of what dangers they might have to face in the future with this pregnancy, but Connie was nothing if not determined and stubborn. Once she set her mind to something, it was almost impossible to stop her.

Steven had his concerns, but Connie’s enthusiasm was contagious, and even when the scans and test came back with worrying news, the couple kept going. It didn’t matter if their child, which they decided to name Von Von, might be physically disabled at birth. They would still love them whole-heartedly, no matter what. Von Von’s birth was meant to be a happy occasion. They were going to be a beautiful, sweet child. They were going to be the best thing that ever happened to him, after meeting Connie. He would hold them, and love them, and cherish them with every fiber of his being.

Instead, he was sitting at Connie’s bedside while she cradled Von Von’s motionless body in her arms.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since the doctors gave her the news. He knew the moment Von Von entered the world that something was wrong. They weren’t crying, and their body was limp. Connie was so exhausted from the birth that she didn’t realize something was off until the doctor wouldn’t let her see them. Her panicked begging was burned into his memory - he had never seen her that hysterical before.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her what happened, to look her in the eyes and explain that the past nine months were just a waste, so instead he let the hospital staff break the news while he waited a few feet away, trying his best not to break into tears, trying to not feel like a complete coward for not being by her side.

The nurse brought Von Von in soon afterward, and even though they were devoid of any life, Connie held them with all the care and love in the world. It was then that he finally got the courage to get closer, wrapping himself around her as she whispered to them how much she loved them.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” was all he could muster up the willpower to say without his voice breaking. Their first child was gone before they even got the chance to talk to them. He would never see them smile, or tell them a bedtime story, or teach them to ride a bike.

It just wasn’t fair. Connie seemed to be thinking the same thing. Tears and sweat streamed down her face, the only sound coming from her now being soft, but pained, whimpering. She held Von Von closer to her chest and forced her gaze to meet his, her eyes red from exhaustion and grief. Though she didn’t say anything, her expression spoke volumes, and he could already tell what she wanted to ask. 'Could you bring them back?’

His body answered the question for him, the tears he had been holding back over the past hour flowing down his cheeks like a river. Wordlessly, Connie handed Von Von to him. He pulled the cloth wrapped around them back just enough to reveal their face, closing his eyes and letting the tears fall onto them. He refused to look at them until he was certain they were alive again, until he could hear their faint cries and feel them wriggling around in his arms.

When the healing light faded and Von Von took their first breath, it was like everything else melted away.

“Welcome to the world, Von Von,” he sniffled, gently running his fingers through their now pink hair.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

Read all the pages in order here.

Blog Info

Hey past me, what the actual flying fuck were you on when you wrote this shit?? Like damn, I know I was depressed but holy shit, can you pull in the fucking reigns a bit??? Can you take your foot off the gas??? Fuck, dude.

It's well written at least? I guess? Christ. Anyway. Yeah Druid's life is sad as fuck, Example Number 618.

Writer Credit: NugatorySheep

[yuueee]

𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 fire lord! zuko x fire lady! reader

authors note: Firstly I just want to apologize for the hiatus, I want to be more active from now on! I’m starting finals next week so I’ll thankfully be done with this semester soon and will also have more time to write. Anyways I hope you enjoy!! I also want to apologize if Zuko is ooc here.

requests:

First of all, your tumblr looks sooooo cool! I’m looking forward to reading all of your future work! Imagine this: Zuko is annoyed by people constantly asking him about a future heir, but when one day his friends also start to ask, and even his uncle and his own mother join the baby fever train, it’s too much for him so he complains about it to his wife who only reassures him with her lovely self and her understanding smiles, not telling him yet that she is in fact pregnant. What do you think ?

Can you write an imagine with zuko who is clearly, utterly and soooo obviously in love with the reader (outgoing, courageous, loving) and maybe with the prompt “So you...well...I mean...I could give you a massage?” Thank you a lot! ^^

As the current Fire Lord and Lady, it wasn’t uncommon for the citizens of the Fire Nation to be deeply invested in your relationship - it was to be expected especially due to the uncommon nature of your union. What you weren’t expecting were Zuko’s close friends and relatives being wrapped up in your business as well. Being outside of team avatar, you were naturally more welcoming to his friend's constant questioning, but Zuko on the other hand was not. He couldn’t understand why they cared so much all of the sudden. They hadn’t been as interested when he was in a relationship with Mai - so why did they care so much now?

It wasn’t as if you weren’t getting along with his friends or family - you got along with them quite well and were very loved by them in fact. Outside of them though, you weren’t always as welcomed, unfortunately, the Fire Nation was still coming to terms with having the daughter of an Earth Kingdom General as their Fire Lady. The arranged marriage was put in place to solve several different ‘problems’. After Zuko broke up with Mai several years ago, he hadn’t begun dating anyone else due to being so busy but he’d eventually be expected to have an heir in the next coming years.

Although they had gotten better, tensions among the Earth Kingdom Colonies were still high and both sides were having difficulty keeping them under control. Eventually, an agreement was made for the daughter of a high-ranking Earth Kingdom General to marry Zuko - that daughter being yourself. Arranged marriages certainly weren’t unheard of in either nation - but a union of this sort was definitely unique.

Though he certainly wasn’t thrilled about it, Zuko understood that it was for the good of the people - and it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it anyway. Even with his position as the recently crowned Fire Lord there still wasn’t much he could do.

On the other hand, you understandably had some issues coming to terms with your new situation at first. Despite being known by those around you as friendly and just a joy, in general, to be around - the woman Zuko had first met was quite the opposite. He could recall it like it was yesterday. Though it was awkward and stressful at the time, he now considered it to be the best day of his life.

“She’s in there.” A female servant whispered to the young man quietly, as if she didn’t want to speak loud enough for you to hear from your place at the balcony.

“Thanks,” he replied with a soft smile, bidding the elderly woman goodbye as she shuffled down the hallway. Turning towards you he was faced with a warm tropical breeze. His advisors had arranged for the two of you to meet a couple of weeks before that dreaded day, and for some reason, they thought Ember Island was the appropriate place. A combination of anxiety and general distaste for being on the island was causing him to be quite stressed - which led him to be more awkward than usual.

“Um, hello?” he spoke up faintly, as if not to startle you. He was sure you heard him come in, but you hadn’t turned around since he entered the small room. You stood several feet away with your hands placed on the railing, your [hair-texture] locks sifting gently with each gust of wind along with your predominantly red clothing. It was against what you had wanted to wear that day but it didn’t seem as if you had much a say in anything going on in your life recently.

You understood that doing this would be for the greater good of the Earth Kingdom and that your situation could technically be worse. You could have been married off to some old creep - but if you were being honest with yourself being married to the Fire Lord sounded just as bad. As you turned around though, you were surprised at the face you were met with.

He had a much younger face than you had expected, but the slight hollowness of his cheeks and the worry lines on his forehead told you that he had experienced things beyond his years. He also happened to be quite handsome - not that you wanted to admit it though. You had been bent on hating him ever since your father told you who you’d be wedding.

He was the leader of the Fire Nation, of course, you would hate him! The country that has had a century-long reign of terror on the world - and now you found yourself engaged to their leader. What had you done so wrong in your life to deserve this?

As much as you wanted to plan on running away the first chance you got, you knew deep inside that it would only cause tensions to increase and more issues to arise. You wanted the best for the residents of the Earth Kingdom, so you agreed to go through with it, but did so resentfully - which you had every right to feel that way.

But as you glared up at the young male next to you and tried to keep your attention off of the scar over his left eye - you couldn’t help but wonder what if this was the man who joined the avatar in defeating the Fire Lord? He wasn’t what you expected at all. Standing in full armor with his hair holding the fire nation insignia in a top knot - he looked awkward and out of place. You almost felt bad for him - keyword is almost.

“What do you need Fire Lord?” you questioned him, turning your gaze back to the rushing waters of the ocean.

“Um,” he faltered slightly, probably not anticipating your response. “I just wanted to introduce myself-“

“I know who you are.” you brushed him off, turning around and walking towards him - grabbing his collar and pulling him to your height. “We might be getting married but if you think for a second I will ever be nice to you, you are sadly mistaken.” you hissed at him before letting him go and walking out of the door.

Zuko couldn’t recall how long he stood there watching your form leave, all he remembered was standing there like an idiot with a red face. He hadn’t expected you to like him of course but he surely wasn’t expecting that.

As he reminisced on memories long ago while sipping his Uncle’s tea, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his features. As stated earlier, It may have been an unpleasant memory back then but now he considered the day he met you to be the best day of his life. Though your relationship had surely faired through many complications for a while in the beginning - surprisingly, you became fond of Zuko over the years.

It was certainly a long time coming but that strange friendship you two shared eventually evolved into love against all odds. That didn’t mean you weren’t constantly giving him an ear full (as you should tbh) your first months together. But as time progressed and you learned that he may not have been the evil prince that you had heard so much about, at least not anymore.

He wasn’t that same angsty teenager he had been years ago looking for the avatar, he was now a young adult growing quite well into the position of the Fire Lord - which was no easy feat. Taking another sip of tea, he watched his Uncle and Mother come to take a seat with him.

“How is it, Nephew?” His Uncle asked with a mischievous grin and a raise of two bushy eyebrows - albeit already knowing the answer.

“It’s great as always Uncle,” Zuko responded with a small smile, his Uncle's expression making him just a bit concerned, causing his Mother to chuckle. Though she had gained a few wrinkles over the past couple of years, she was still as radiant as she had been in her youth. She was also much happier being able to live with the family she had been apart from for many years without fearing Ozai’s intervention. It came with a price though - it seemed as if her relationship with her estranged daughter who was now on the run would never be resolved. She never lost hope though.

“Zuko,” his mother began speaking, catching the young Fire Lord’s attention with a raise of his eyebrows. “When are you going to give me a grandchild?” She asked teasingly, eager to see his reaction. In turn, her son had barely kept himself from spitting out the mouthful of tea.

“Why do you ask that?” He choked out in between a series of coughs with Iroh patting his back gently.

“You haven’t?” She asked in between chuckles, noticing how her son got bewildered at the mention of having children of his own. “You know you’ll eventually have to have an heir at some point right?”

“It’s not that I haven’t thought about it... but Y/N and I are just really busy.” He thought aloud, wishing he could run a hand through his hair - but was unable to since it was pinned in a top knot.

“Zuko, you never know when you’ll get this time of peace again. What better time to raise a child?” Iroh reassured, wiggling his eyebrows. Letting out a groan, the young Fire Lord attempted to mentally prepare himself to go through this same conversation every time he visited his family.

Over the next couple of weeks, the constant badgering he received from his friends and close relatives started to frustrate him further, so who could he turn to? You of course.

Being married for several years now, you were more than used to Zuko’s rants, so you simply just reclined on the bed with an eyebrow raised as he paced back and forth.

“I don’t get it! Why is everyone so concerned about when we’re going to have a child or not?” He questioned seemingly no one as you attempted to keep your face from contorting into a smile. It wasn’t as if you didn’t understand his frustrations, it was just funny to watch, especially since you were already pregnant.

You were surprised that he hadn’t noticed honestly, with you staying in for the past few days due to feeling sick. Who could blame him though? It wasn’t as if he wasn’t attentive and loving as a husband, he was extremely busy as of recent-and also just dense at times. After noticing his silence for a few moments as he looked over the balcony, you decided that maybe this could be the perfect time to tell him.

Getting up and sneaking behind him, you snaked your arms around his waist and turned so you could see his face. He let out an audible sigh of what sounded like relief before returning your smile and your hug.

“You want a head massage?” You questioned pulling away, wiggling your fingers playfully.

“Please.”

For the past couple of years, Zuko had been letting his hair grow out so now it rested around his shoulders.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” You started tentatively, but as usual, he was too caught up in the sensation of your fingers raking across his scalp to entirely understand what you were saying, so he just nodded in response. “I’m pregnant.” You stated plainly, ceasing your scratching. Not getting a response for a few moments, you turned to face him with a worried expression.

Much to your surprise he was grinning up at you and placed a warm hand on your cheek. “Really?”

“Yes. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell y-“ you were abruptly cut off by him pulling you into another hug and placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “So you’re happy about it?”

“Couldn’t be happier.” He responded sincerely, leaning into your shoulder so you couldn’t see the redness on his cheeks.

Maybe your family and friends would finally leave the two of you alone now?

taglist: @practicallylivesonline @chewymoustachio

[kudzucataclysm]

Hello! I am here to ask about S!E :]

I don't know more than I do know, so here's a recap of the things I do know:

There was an apocalypse thingie and martians are now a thing

Francis is part martian, full of rage and used as a weapon consistently

There's a tiny little guy that's full of love, anger and trauma. Somebody help him please

Francis has Martian relatives/cousins that are assholes

Little guy (you may have caught on to the fact that I keep forgetting his name) is also very abused

Martian age is weird. They age more quickly if needed but sometimes not (?)

The US is even more fucked than it usually is, given the apocalypse and all

I would be absolutely delighted to know more about any of these points! Sorry for forgetting the little guy's name, my memory is just like that. I have adopted him though he's my little guy

HIIII i absolutely love this question!! and dw we are all forgetful here but im afraid you'll have to fight @impaledlotus for custody of the little guy v-v my bad

HERE WE GO

There was an apocalypse thingie and martians are now a thing

There were TWO APOCALYPSES ACTUALLY!! Yes indeed, you heard right; the 1962 nuclear exchange AND the 1962 yellowstone supervolcano eruption that Lupe Altena managed to kiiiind of stop from happening. Then Martians invaded in the 80s and basically went “damn bitch you live like this???” to humanity and colonized earth with the goal of 'wildlife management'. You cant just let your new food source kill itself off through dumb decisions!! Thatd be very…counterproductive lol

but i suppose Gabriel's Arrow was also considered an apocalyptic event of sorts? when theres a global outbreak of superpowers that affected 40% of the population (800,000,000 people YEESH), there was significant societal upheaval for a solid decade or so, with the cold war on top of everything..i think it'd depend on the historian! and trust me the history textbook no the 20th century in SE is 30 pounds and historians are required to undergo annual psychological evaluations :D a LOT happened in a century or so

Francis is part martian, full of rage and used as a weapon consistently

that is correct! she is a chimera, and one that is half human half martian (with really weird abilities that other chimeras don’t have have hm 🤔). and yes she is EXTREMELY angry becuz her entire life has been absolute shit- she isn’t seen as a person but a weapon and a monster instead, so she doesnt really know how to act like a kid! she also has severe PTSD, possible BPD, anger issues, a bit of sociopathy, SELF INFLICTED AMNESIA, and a plethora of other things going on. every adult in her life has failed her, none more so than her aunt/adoptive ‘parent’ FRIDAY…but that shall be explored more in the story unless u want more info on that

There's a tiny little guy that's full of love, anger and trauma. Somebody help him please

thats Desmond!!! the goodest boy :3 and uh yeah 😔 what kind of monster would hurt a child like this 😶‍🌫️

Francis has Martian relatives/cousins that are assholes

millions of em actually!! or at least several tens of thousands…her dad gets around a lol 😅 and maybe in particular you’re talking about Oz, her twin? yeah he’s an asshole. a bastard even >:D

Little guy (you may have caught on to the fact that I keep forgetting his name) is also very abused

He is 😔 emotionally, verbally and mentally by his dad and older brother ever since his oldest sibling Happy left and his mom had a huge accident that has left her in the hospital almost all the time. he is also neglected. tis all very sad but there IS a lowkey fucked up reason as to why his dad treats him as he does. but thats SECREEEET

Martian age is weird. They age more quickly if needed but sometimes not (?)

it depends on their environment and who’s in it! the average modern Martian is completely matured within 3 years- they used to reach maturity by 4-6 months (back in the Martian STONE AGES). however, both Martians and chimera can age slower if raised by a human or in extremely safe, nurturing conditions (Martians can’t age as slow as chimeras can tho).

francis was raised (for most of her life) by a human, so she’s 15 years old physiologically and mentally. her twin oz, raised by martians, is 30 years old physiologically despite them both coming from the same egg :D

The US is even more fucked than it usually is, given the apocalypse and all

yeeeeaaaah the US is disincorporated. disenfranchised. split up. GONE

well mostly. the west coast was annexed by the political-military alliance of south east asia, and alaska was given to russia/the ussr as ‘compensation’ for uh the weather terrorism that the US did. yay!

las vegas, nevada is now LAS NEVADAS and is it’s own independent city state just like Necropolis. it’s a capitalists wet dream and it’s controls almost the water in the west

the midwest, where most of the nukes fell iiiiis wasteland. the (contains) yellowstone eruption literally blew open the continental shelf under the mainland US and now it’s an irradiated wasteland where WEIRDOS live. that’s where Desmond comes from :D

the south east has been lost to a virulent strain of parasitic KUDZU as well as feral Martians and feral DINOSAURS. yes, we brought em back. yes, you can have them as pets (for a cooool 5$ million). so nobody goes there unless like, you’re going on a safari hunt or something. people live there but they’re extremely isolated and kinda dangerous

the northeast-mid atlantic is all that’s left of “The United States of America” and it’s a corporate police state that’s under constant martial law thats under the rule of a president grown in a lab in the middle of nowhere…who is ALSO under supervision of two major foreign powers. except for NECROPOLIS WOOOO

Necropolis (the N.E.C or ‘The Nec(k)”) is the main setting for Arc 1, and is a GIGANTIC CITY made out of alien “living metal” and other Martian bullshit technology that combines all of the entire New York tri-state metropolitan area. Theres MARTIANS, MUTANTS, ADP MONSTERS!! And ofc, chimera :D so how does everyone manage to not kill each other?? the giant UFO thats constantly hovering over the city, and govt funded/backed 'superheroes'

But yuuup thats the state of the US in SE vv’ its a mess. No one wants to live here tbh (unless youre a criminal mastermind or hypercapitalist or something. weird!)

aaaa i had fun answering these! i hope i answered all your questions just fine, but if theres anything else you wanna know plz dont be afraid to ask :D

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 6

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine. Here we are at the final part!

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral and unprotected, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit and my photos of Murano & Burano)

𝕄𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

𝕄𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

𝕄𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

{…𝕠𝕣 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕖?}

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy awoke early the next morning, reaching over to his phone on the bedside table and tapping the screen to see what time it was. Seven. Plenty of time to have a shower and make his way down to the breakfast room.

Standing under the stream of hot water, he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive. What if she had done another runner? He wouldn’t be able to cope with that. He didn’t think she would have, but…. he just wasn’t 100% sure what she was thinking or feeling right now.

After his full disclosure of what he’d got up to with Madani followed swiftly by his confession of love last night, he felt more optimistic but he could tell she was still conflicted.

He’d just have to do whatever he could today to persuade her to give him another chance.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Making your way into the light and airy breakfast room at just after eight, you couldn’t deny you were pleased to see Billy, sitting up super straight like a well-behaved schoolboy, already at a table.

His face broke into a huge smile when he spotted you, and you could see a large measure of relief wrapped up in it. You knew he would’ve been wondering if you had run out on him again. But no, you’d decided overnight to at least see how things went today on your trip to the Lagoon Islands.

He’d thrown you a curveball by telling you he loved you last night, and while you were relieved to hear that he hadn’t slept with that woman (his anger when you’d pushed him on it had finally convinced you that he hadn’t), you still weren’t exactly happy with what he had admitted to doing. It was still cheating in your book.

Could you ever really trust him again?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy fussed over her like a mother hen when she sat down across from him at the table, jumping up and rushing over to the buffet table, picking out a selection of toast, focaccia, butter, jams and Nutella for her along with a couple of mini pain au chocolat croissants. They were her favourites so he felt quite proud of himself as he laid the plate before her like the spoils of war, before making his way to the coffee machine and creating a cappuccino for her.

“Thank you, Billy - you’re spoiling me,” she said with a small grin. “Your every wish is my command, Princess,” he smiled back, hand covering hers and stroking gently. Now she started properly laughing at him, and he huffed, slightly offended. Once she’d calmed down a bit she said, “Honestly Billy, you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot. All I need from you is complete honesty.” Billy tried to look as convincing as he possibly could, “I will be, sweetheart, I promise.”

She took a sip of her cappuccino, and fixed him with an intense stare. “Bearing that in mind, Billy, just what exactly was going through your mind when you were making out with Madani?”

Billy blew out a big breath; he hadn’t seen that coming. “Well… uhh… nothin’ really. I was just doing somethin’ I had to do, and needed to get it over with as quick as possible.” Another sip of coffee, another intense look from her. “Uh-huh. So you didn’t enjoy it then? Is that what you’re saying?”

Billy suddenly felt like he was back on very thin ice. He could feel himself squirming in his seat, and fought to keep still. Madani was, in all truth, a pretty woman.

Fuck.

What should he say in reply to that?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your eyes were drilling into Billy’s, and he looked about as comfortable as someone who’d just found out he’d got a scorpion down his trousers.

His face flushed pink, so you could guess what that meant. He cleared his throat, and then said in a low voice, “Look, she’s not bad lookin’ so it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it could’ve been.”

You smirked, not ready to let him off the hook yet, “So you were attracted to her, then. Not sure I’m happy to hear that, Billy.”

“NO! No, I wasn’t. Well.. like I said, she’s not unattractive but I’m not interested in her.”

You picked up your knife and aggressively sliced right through one of croissants. The look on Billy’s face was priceless. No doubt he’d guessed that the croissant was a surrogate for a certain part of his anatomy.

“Sweetheart, they weren’t long or involved kisses… not real ones, not like between you an’ me,” he said in a worried tone, very unlike his usual assertive manner. “Sweetheart, you’re the one I’m in love with. The only one I want to be with.” He was gazing earnestly at you, hand covering yours.

You cut off another piece of croissant and popped it into your mouth.

Billy would have to work a hell of a lot harder than that today if he was going to get you back, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Once the vaporetto had moored alongside the jetty you walked on board the boat up the ramp in front of Billy, while the disembarking passengers walked down the other side of it as it swayed from side to side, the boat moving in its own wake. The crew member who’d expertly tied up the boat a few moments ago was still calling out “Palanca, Palanca” as you headed through the covered section to the open area right at the back, sitting down on the bench seat in the stern and turning your face up to the sun.

Billy sat next to you, scooting as close to you as he could, suddenly lunging in for a hungry kiss. Two mothers with children in tow emerged through the doors leading from the salon, and you pushed him away while hastily smiling at the newcomers, saying, “Giorno” to them. Both of them smiled at you, returning your greeting, but then their eyes slid over to Billy and you saw both sets widening as they looked him over. You sighed. Having a hot boyfriend sucked sometimes. And Billy was looking particularly hot today in leather jacket, white t-shirt, black jeans and combat boots.

However, you noticed that Billy’s eyes were glued to you, still gazing at you ever since you’d fended him off. You didn’t think he’d even glanced at the other two women.

OK, Russo - one point on the plus side to you, you conceded.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was paying full attention to his girl. He felt slightly triumphant that he’d managed to steal a kiss, and she’d only shoved him away when he’d vaguely heard the salon doors opening behind him.

He was so worried that she still hadn’t made her mind up whether to take him back or not, and he knew that today was his final chance to convince her to do so. Whatever was in his power to do, he’d do, to make that happen. And he wasn’t dumb, that meant not paying any attention whatsoever to any other females in the vicinity. He’d guessed that a couple of women had arrived along with the kids he could hear squealing and laughing just out of his sight line, so he made sure he kept his eyes trained solely on her.

Her lips curved upwards in a small smile as she looked back at him.

Pleased, he thought - ha, think I just scored a point there.

He wondered how many more of those he needed to rack up to finally win his woman back.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

There were no direct vaporetti lines to the Lagoon Islands so you had to firstly go to Fondamente Nove, which was a busy hub for several of the numerous lines. You wanted to visit two of the main islands; Murano - where Venetians had made their famed glass items for centuries - and Burano, an island of fishermen and lacemakers. You were really excited to go there, as the houses were painted in a rainbow of colours. Legend had it that this was so the returning fishermen could spot their own individual houses as they returned home across the lagoon.

You needed to find the ferry stop for Line 12, which luckily Billy spotted just as the two of you were about to walk right past it. There was a vaporetto arriving just as you did and swiping your travel passes, you went aboard and took seats in the salon. This ferry was a slightly different type to the others you’d been on, longer and lower and was soon packed with locals and tourists alike.

It took a little while to arrive at Murano, alighting at the Faro stop. They still produced glassware on Murano but nothing like as much as they had in the past. You and Billy wandered alongside one of the main canals, looking into the windows of all the little glass shops until you came to the entrance of one of the big glass foundries.

They offered tours of the workshop and of course also had a shop, so the two of you paid for the tour and watched in amazement as an old man took a fiery red and yellow blob onto the end of a pole, and blew and turned it until it started to take on the shape of a little vase.

In the store, you browsed along the shelves looking at all the glassware on display, until you suddenly noticed you were alone. Glancing around, you spotted a dark head over in the corner at the cash desk and were heading over there when Billy turned round. His trademark smirk appeared and he hurriedly picked up the little paper carrier bag which was on the counter by its handles and strode towards you.

“See anything you like, sweetheart?”

Smirk getting wider. You eye-rolled and grabbed his arm, noting at the same time that the female sales assistant was still gawping at Billy, even though he now had his back to her. You tugged him towards the door, asking, “What’ve you just bought?” as you went. He shook his head, “Can’t say. It’s a surprise.” You glared at him, “Billy….” but he just kept grinning as you left the store and wouldn’t say anything, even though you nipped at his wrist just below his leather jacket sleeve with your nails.

“Wanna get a coffee?” he suggested, as you resumed your canalside stroll. “Yeah, okay,” you replied, stopping next to the outdoor tables of a small caffé and sitting down, Billy joining you. He slid his hand over yours, “M’glad we’ve got this time together today, sweetheart. Wanna make you understand just how much you mean to me.”

You nodded in acknowledgment before waving at the waiter and ordering two double macchiatos. You carried on, “The main problem I have, Billy, is how I’m ever going to trust you again? You might not think you cheated, but that’s what it is in my book.”

Billy looked over at you, eyes wide, sad …and scared.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had then looked up and thanked the waiter as the coffees were placed in front of you both. He really didn’t know what to say, to be honest. He knew Frank - and no doubt Karen - also thought that it had counted as cheating. But he truly hadn’t. Well…. Cheating Lite, as he’d already designated it in his head. But not proper, down-and-dirty, long-term cheating. It had been a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. He just hadn’t considered the bigger picture. At all. And that had been a big mistake.

He took a sip of his coffee, and cleared his throat before spilling out what had just gone through his head. “Y’know I’m not exactly an expert at relationships, angel. In fact, I’m sure you’ll agree I’m totally shit at them. I need you to keep me on the straight and narrow. Tell me how things need to be. Please don’t give up on us, don’t leave me… please.” Billy was completely and utterly pouring out his heart to her, and he prayed she could see that.

His girl looked at him, some anger and hurt still in her eyes but she managed a shaky breath and looked down into the depths of her coffee cup for a few moments.

Billy held his breath.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your eyes met his again, “But how am I going to trust you again, Billy, tell me that? Every time you say you’re working late, how d’you expect me not to think you’re meeting up with her or someone else?”

Now it was Billy’s turn to look down. The silence stretched out to a few minutes, and you did nothing to break it. Eventually he looked up at you again, “M’tryin�� to think of how I can prove to you that I’ll never, ever, do something like that again - whether it’s work-related or not.”

He reached across and slid his long fingers between yours, holding onto your hand so tightly it felt like he’d never let go.

“Firstly, I give you my word as an ex-Marine that I won’t ever pull a stunt like this again. Secondly, I’ll be the most attentive boyfriend you’ve ever had. In and out of the sack.” You tried to hide a smile, but you knew he’d seen it. “Thirdly, I’ll put a tracker on my phone, and I’ll hack you into my messagin’ and email apps so you’ll have absolute access to my location and comms.” He was smirking back at you by now, he felt this was going pretty well.

“But you’ve got access to burner phones, Billy.”

His smile dimmed, while his brain scrambled to come up with a solution to this inconvenient fact. You saw his eyes light up and the smirk returned, “Easy. I’ll put Frank in sole charge of issuing them and I’ll tell him not to give me any unless it’s absolutely necessary for an op.”

“Could just buy them in Walmart’s,” you dropped into the slight pause after he’d finished speaking. His face fell again, and now you burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, Billy - I get the message. I see that you’re doing your best to be honest and transparent. There’s no need for you to put all that tracking and hacking in place.”

Billy beamed at you.

“I’ll just get Micro to track your ass.”

His mouth dropped open as you spoke.

“And monitor all your calls and texts.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Woah! thought Billy, didn’t think she’d be getting King Nerd involved. That was probably Karen’s idea. Gee, thanks Karen. But he would agree, what else could he do? And he’d offered to track himself, so it didn’t really matter in any case, did it?

“Uhhh…” he stuttered, “….uhh yeah, whatever you like, sweetheart.”

She smiled over at him, a genuine smile. “It’s OK, Billy. I wouldn’t do that to you.” She side-eyed him, “Unless you give me good cause. Like… coming home stinking of another woman’s perfume ever again.”

His hand went over his heart, and he put on his best puppydog eyes. “Angel, I swear on my life - never. Never. Ever. Again.”

She nodded. “Okay, Billy, I’ll take that as you being on oath now, just like when you joined the Marines.” His eyes widened and he nodded fast. “Yeah. I am. I’m on oath.”

He watched as she drained the very last few drops of her coffee. “Okay, Russo! Let’s go,” she said standing up and picking up her bag.

“Yes, ma’am!” He jumped up and saluted, taking his place at her side as they retraced their steps to the Faro stop and their next vaporetto.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d hopped onto the next Line 12 ferry which arrived, and recommenced your onwards journey to Burano. Sitting inside the salon again, the loud chatter around you from the mostly local passengers almost drowned out any conversation you and Billy tried to have. He finally leaned right up against you, snaking his arm round your waist, his lips against your ear.

“Got you a little somethin’, sweetheart.” He handed you the gift bag.

Opening it, you saw a mass of tissue paper inside the bag and took it out. “Careful!” he warned, so you slowly opened up the paper and saw a delicate rose pink heart trinket box sitting at its centre. You lifted its little lid up and then replaced it, delighted with it. Smiling at Billy, you said, “I love it!” into his ear and kissed his cheek. His lips returned to your ear, “See? You have my heart.”

Now you rolled your eyes heavenwards, “I’d stop there if I were you, Russo. Cheesy really doesn’t suit you!” He burst out laughing. “Hey! Give a guy a break. He’s over here layin’ his heart and soul right out in front of you.”

You leant in and kissed him on the lips, before pulling back and saying, “And don’t read too much into that!” But Billy was already grinning happily back at you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was happy. His steps were light as he walked beside her from the vaporetto stop along a small street, lined with stalls and shops selling souvenirs and lacework, which eventually led to a square.

She loved the trinket box! he thought, very pleased with himself. The minute he’d seen it he knew that she would, and had decided to buy it on the spot. While he didn’t want her to think he was trying to buy her back, he’d just wanted to make some gesture to show her that he treasured her, the same way she’d treasure the little things she put in it.

He blurted all of this out to her as they strolled along. She stopped walking and looked at him, amazed, “Billy Russo! I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He felt shy suddenly, and he could feel his face heating up. What was happening to him? Is this what love did to you? He didn’t hate it. “It’s how I feel,” he mumbled, looking away from her. He felt her hand on his cheek, “Well, keep that up and maybe, just maybe…”

She turned and started walking again, and Billy hurried to catch up with her. I won’t push it, he thought, I’ll just leave it be while I’m on a winning streak.

There was another street leading off the square which was full of trattorias and caffés, and they chose one of the restaurants to sit outside, the tables rapidly filling as more people from the vaporetto stop arrived.

She’s definitely looking at me more kindly, he thought. Things might just be okay after all.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After a delicious lunch of pasta and several glasses of wine, you and Billy started exploring the little canals and streets with their cute colourful houses. They looked so bright and beautiful in the sunlight, and you imagined the fishermen back in the day sailing home and being able to see their own little house from afar.

You reached the waterside, beside a quiet little square with houses all around it and some grass in the middle, clothes on washing lines strung across it, blowing in the breeze. There was no-one else around and suddenly you found yourself pressed up against the wall of one of the houses, Billy’s long fingers on the nape of your neck, his hand on your waist. His dark chocolate eyes were gazing into yours, a soft look in them. But you could also feel something a lot harder pressing into your hip, and you saw desire spark in his eyes.

His mouth was on yours and he kissed you, the sudden passion of which took you by surprise. He pulled back, his forehead touching yours. “I’ve missed your touch so much,” he whispered, “…every minute of every day since you.. since you left me.” You laid your hand on his chest, “I missed you too, Billy - even if I did hate you at the time.” He chuckled, “Do you still hate me?” You looked into those beautiful eyes, “No, I guess I don’t. Although you’re still walking a line, Billy.”

He nodded, “I know. I do know. But promise me you’ll give me another chance?” You smiled at him, pushing yourself away from the wall and him, “Let’s see, shall we?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy tapped on her hotel room door, and gave her a devilish grin as she opened it. He’d made sure to wear a white tank and a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms. He knew she liked him in those.

She was already in her sleepwear - an oversized Anvil T which she’d stolen from him ages ago - and leant against her door, looking back at him, amused. “Why Billy, whatever brings you here?”

He just kept grinning at her and also leant against her doorframe. As if she didn’t know, he thought. She’d had to spend the entire journey back from Burano fending off his hands and mouth.

“Just checkin’ you’re OK, sweetheart. See if there’s anything you need.”

She laughed. “And what could I possibly need, Billy?”

He angled his body so that she couldn’t fail to get a great view of his toned torso and more importantly, the very obvious outline of his erection showing in his joggers. If there was one thing Billy had complete confidence in, it was the effect his body had on women.

“I can think of one or two things, sweetheart.”

He was ecstatic when her hand reached out and grabbed him round the back of his neck, pulling him into her room. “Uhuh… maybe you should show me what those are.”

Billy’s grin got twice as wide.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You gave a huge sigh as Billy pushed inside you, hearing an answering one from him and you ran your hands up into his lush hair. You couldn’t deny it, you had missed him. And his enthusiastic lovemaking.

However you were a little taken aback when he began moving slowly and sensually on you, instead of his usual frenetic pace. He was stroking your hair, placing little kisses all over your face and neck, running his hands over your body, whispering “I love you, love you so much” between his languid thrusts. He slid a hand down and massaged your clit, so well that you climaxed within a few short moments. Not long afterwards, you heard him gasp and he released into you, with a long groan.

The two of you lay in silence, side by side but still entwined. Then Billy leant across and kissed you, softly, slowly, with passion. “I can’t be without you, angel.” The puppydog eyes were out in force again as he gazed at you, “Please. Gimme another chance. I’ll be a better boyfriend, a million times better.”

You continued to look back at him, then gave a quick nod, “Okay. Yes, okay Billy. But one… just one transgression…” His hands went up in supplication, “Understood! Not one transgression will be made.”

“And you make sure to tell that thirsty bitch back in New York that her little dates with you won’t be happening anymore.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“Already done.”

He saw her eyebrows rise.

Oh. Oh, she thinks that means I’ve been in touch with her.

“No, sweetheart…. Frankie took care of that for me while I’ve been away.”

She smirked, “Pleased to hear it.”

Billy let out a sigh of relief, he was going to have to be so careful over the next few months. He’d only just got her back! He couldn’t let a stupid, chance remark or two ruin it. He ran his hand over her hair again. “I’m so happy, y’know? M’never going to take you for granted again.” He saw her smile widen in the darkness of the room.

“But, sweetheart, you gotta promise me something too.” She looked at him, puzzled, amused, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. No more runnin’ out on me and flyin’ halfway round the world.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss @bruxa0007 @aleksanderwh0r3 @theshadowkingsqueen @bat-luna-cat @carlywhomever

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[testudoaubrei-blog]

Content note for discussions of eternal damnation, and all sorts of other shit that will trigger a lot of folks with religious trauma.

Before I get started I might as well explain where I’m coming from - unlike a lot of She-Ra fans, and a lot of queer people, I don’t have much religious trauma, or any, maybe (okay there were a number of years I was convinced I was going to hell, but that happens to everyone, right?). I was raised a liberal Christian by liberal Christian parents in the Episcopal Church, where most of my memories are overwhelmingly positive. Fuck, growing up in the 90’s, Chuch was probably the only place outside my home I didn’t have homophobia spewed at me. Because it was the 90’s and it was a fucking hellscape of bigotry where 5 year olds knew enough to taunt each other with homophobic slurs and the adults didn’t know enough to realize how fucked up that was. Anyway. This is my experience, but it is an atypical one, and I know it. Quite frankly I know that my experience of Christianity has very little at all to do with what most people experienced, or what people generally mean when they talk about Christianity as a cultural force in America today. So if you were raised Christian and you don’t recognize your theology here, congrats, neither do I, but these ideas and cultural forces are huge and powerful and dominant. And it’s this dominant Christian narrative that I’m referring to in this post. As well as, you know, a children’s cartoon about lesbian rainbow princesses. So here it goes. This is going to get batshit.

"All events whatsoever are governed by the secret counsel of God." - John Calvin

“We’re all just a bunch of wooly guys” - Noelle Stevenson

This is a post triggered by a single scene, and a single line. It’s one of the most fucked-up scenes in She-Ra, toward the end of Save the Cat. Catra, turned into a puppet by Prime, struggles with her chip, desperately trying to gain control of herself, so lost and scared and vulnerable that she flings aside her own death wish and her pride and tearfully begs Adora to rescue her. Adora reaches out , about to grab her, and then Prime takes control back, pronounces ‘disappointing’ and activates the kill switch that pitches Catra off the platform and to her death (and seriously, she dies here, guys - also Adora breaks both her legs in the fall). But before he does, he dismisses Catra with one of his most chilling lines. “Some creatures are meant only for destruction.”

And that’s when everyone watching probably had their heart broken a little bit, but some of the viewers raised in or around Christianity watching the same scene probably whispered ‘holy shit’ to themselves. Because Prime’s line - which works as a chilling and callous dismissal of Catra - is also an allusion to a passage from the Bible. In fact, it’s from one of the most fucked up passages in a book with more than its share of fucked up passages. It’s from Romans 9:22, and I’m going to quote several previous verses to give the context of the passage (if not the entire Epistle, which is more about who needs to abide by Jewish dietary restrictions but was used to construct a systematic theology in the centuries afterwards because people decided it was Eternal Truth).

19 Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will?

20 Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?

21 Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?

22 What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction:

The context of the allusion supports the context in the show. Prime is dismissing Catra - serial betrayer, liar, failed conqueror, former bloody-handed warlord - as worthless, as having always been worthless and fit only to be destroyed. He is speaking from a divine and authoritative perspective (because he really does think he’s God, more of this in my TL/DR Horde Prime thing). Prime is echoing not only his own haughty dismissal of Catra, and Shadow Weaver’s view of her, but also perhaps the viewer’s harshest assessment of her, and her own worst fears about herself. Catra was bad from the start, doomed to destroy and to be destroyed. A malformed pot, cracked in firing, destined to be shattered against a wall and have her shards classified by some future archaeologist 2,000 years later. And all that’s bad enough.

But the full historical and theological context of this passage shows the real depth of Noelle Stevenson’s passion and thought and care when writing this show. Noelle was raised in Evangelical or Fundamentalist Christianity. To my knowledge, he has never specified what sect or denomination, but in interviews and her memoir Noelle has shown a particular concern for questions that this passage raises, and a particular loathing for the strains of Protestant theology that take this passage and run with it - that is to say, Calvinism. So while I’m not sure if Noelle was raised as a conservative, Calvinist Presbyterian, his preoccupation with these questions mean that it’s time to talk about Calvinism.

It would be unfair, perhaps, to say that Calvinism is a systematic theology built entirely upon the Epistles of Romans and Galatians, but only -just- (and here my Catholic readers in particular will chuckle to themselves and lovingly stroke their favorite passage of the Epistle of James). The core of Calvinist Doctrine is often expressed by the very Dutch acronym TULIP:

Total Depravity - people are wholly evil, and incapable of good action or even willing good thoughts or deeds

Unconditional Election - God chooses some people to save because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, not because they did anything to deserve, trigger or accept it

Limited Atonement - Jesus died only to save the people God chose to save, not the rest of us bastards

Irresistible Grace - God chooses some people to be saved - if you didn’t want to be saved, too bad, God said so.

Perseverance of the Saints - People often forget this one and assume it’s ‘predestination’ but it’s actually this - basically, once saved by God, always saved, and if it looks like someone falls out of grace, they were never saved to begin with. Well that’s all sealed up tight I guess.

Reading through these, predestination isn’t a single doctrine in Calvinism but the entire theological underpinnings of it together with humanity’s utter powerlessness before sin. Basically God has all agency, humanity has none. Calvinism (and a lot of early modern Protestantism) is obsessed with questions of how God saves people (grace alone, AKA Sola Fides) and who God saves (the people god elects and only the people God elects, and fuck everyone else).

It’s apparent that Noelle was really taken by these questions, and repelled by the answers he heard. He’s alluded to having a tattoo refuting the Gospel passage about Sheep and Goats being sorted at the end times, affirming instead that ‘we’re all just a bunch of wooly guys’ (you can see this goat tattoo in some of his self-portraits in comics, etc). He’s also mentioned that rejecting and subverting destiny is a huge part of everything he writes as a particular rejection of the idea that some individual people are 'chosen' by God or that God has a plan for any of us. You can see that -so clearly- in Adora’s arc, where Adora embraces and then rejects destiny time and again and finally learns to live life for herself.

But for Catra, we’re much more concerned about the most negative aspect of this - the idea that some people are vessels meant for destruction. And that’s something else that Noelle is preoccupied with. In her memoir in the section about leaving the church and becoming a humanistic atheist, there is a drawing of a pot and the question ‘Am I a vessel prepared for destruction?’ Obviously this was on Noelle’s mind (And this is before he came out to himself as queer!).

To look at how this question plays out in Catra’s entire arc, let’s first talk about how ideas of damnation and salvation actually play out in society. And for that I’m going to plug one of my favorite books, Gin Lun’s Damned Nation: Hell in America from the Revolution to Reconstruction (if you can tell by now, I am a fucking blast at parties). Lun tells the long and very interesting story about, how ideas of hell and who went there changed during the Early American Republic. One of the interesting developments that she talks about is how while at first people who were repelled by Calvinism started moving toward a doctrine of universal salvation (no on goes to hell, at least not forever*), eventually they decided that hell was fine as long as only the right kind of people went there. Mostly The Other - non-Christian foreigners, Catholics, Atheists, people who were sinners in ways that were not just bad but weird and violated Victorian ideas of respectability. Really, Hell became a way of othering people, and arguably that’s how it survives today, especially as a way to other queer people (but expanding this is slated for my Montero rant). Now while a lot of people were consciously rejecting Calvinist predestination, they were still drawing the distinction between the Elect (good, saved, worthwhile) and the everyone else (bad, damned, worthless). I would argue that secularized ideas of this survive to this day even among non-Christian spaces in our society - we like to draw lines between those who Elect, and those who aren’t.

And that’s what brings us back to Catra. Because Catra’s entire arc is a refutation of the idea that some people are worthless and irredeemable, either by nature, nurture or their own actions. Catra’s actions strain the conventions of who is sympathetic in a Kid’s cartoon - I’ve half joked that she’s Walter White as a cat girl, and it’s only half a joke. She’s cruel, self-deluded, she spends 4 seasons refusing to take responsibility for anything she does and until Season 5 she just about always chooses the thing that does the most damage to herself and others. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, the show goes out of its way to demonstrate that Catra is morally culpable in every step of her descent into evil (except maybe her break with reality just before she pulls the lever). The way that Catra personally betrays everyone around her, the way she strips herself of all of her better qualities and most of what makes her human, hell even her costume changes would signal in any other show that she’s irredeemable.

It’s tempting to see this as Noelle’s version of being edgy - pushing the boundaries of what a sympathetic character is, throwing out antiheroics in favor of just making the villain a protagonist. Noelle isn’t quite Alex ‘I am in the business of traumatizing children’ Hirsch, who seems to have viewed his job as pushing the bounds of what you could show on the Disney Channel (I saw Gravity Falls as an adult and a bunch of that shit lives rent free in my nightmares forever), but Noelle has his own dark side, mostly thematically. The show’s willingness to deal with abuse, and messed up religious themes, and volatile, passionate, not particularly healthy relationships feels pretty daring. I’m not joking when I gleefully recommend this show to friends as ‘a couple from a Mountain Goats Song fights for four seasons in a cartoon intended for 9 year olds’. Noelle is in his own way pushing the boundaries of what a kids show can do. If you read Noelle’s other works like Nimona, you see an argument for Noelle being at least a bit edgy. Nimona is also angry, gleefully destructive, violent and spiteful - not unlike Catra. Given that it was a 2010s webcomic and not a kids show, Nimona is a good deal worse than Catra in some ways - Catra doesn’t kill people on screen, while Nimona laughs about it (that was just like, a webcomic thing - one of the fan favorite characters in my personal favorite, Narbonic, was a fucking sociopath, and the heroes were all amoral mad scientists, except for the superintelligent gerbil**). But unlike Nimona, whose fate is left open ended, Catra is redeemed.

And that is weird. We’ve had redemption arcs, but generally not of characters with -so- much vile stuff in their history. Going back to the comparison between her and Azula, many other shows, like Avatar, would have made Catra a semi-sympathetic villain who has a sob-story in their origin but who is beyond redemption, and in so doing would articulate a kind of psychologized Calvinism where some people are too traumatized to ever be fully and truly human. I’d argue this is the problem with Azula as a character - she’s a fun villain, but she doesn’t have moral agency, and the ultimate message of her arc - that she’s a broken person destined only to hurt people - is actually pretty fucked up. And that’s the origin story of so many serial killers and psycopaths that populate so many TV shows and movies. Beyond ‘hurt people hurt people’ they have nothing to teach us except perhaps that trauma makes you a monster and that the only possible response to people doing bad things is to cut them out of your life and out of our society (and that’s why we have prisons, right?)

And so Catra’s redemption and the depths from which she claws herself back goes back to Noelle’s desire to prove that no person is a vessel ‘fitted for destruction.’ Catra goes about as far down the path of evil as we’ve ever seen a protagonist in a kids show go, and she still has the capacity for good. Importantly, she is not subject to total depravity - she is capable of a good act, if only one at first. Catra is the one who begins her own redemption (unlike in Calvinism, where grace is unearned and even unwelcomed) - because she wants something better than what she has, even if its too late, because she realizes that she never wanted any of this anyway, because she wants to do one good thing once in her life even if it kills her.

The very extremity of Catra’s descent into villainy serves to underline the point that Noelle is trying to make - that no one can be written off completely, that everyone is capable of change, and that no human being is garbage, no matter how twisted they’ve become. Meanwhile her ability to set her own redemption in motion is a powerful statement of human agency, and healing, and a refutation of Calvinism’s idea that we are powerless before sin or pop cultural tropes about us being powerful before the traumas of our upbringing. Catra’s arc, then, is a kind of anti-Calvinist theological statement - about the nature of people and the nature of goodness.

Now, there is a darker side to this that Noelle has only hinted at, but which is suggested by other characters on the show. Because while Catra’s redemption shows that people are capable of change, even when they’ve done horrible things, been fucked up and fucked themselves up, it also illustrates the things people do to themselves that make change hard. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, two of the most sinister parts of her descent into villainy are her self-dehumanization (crushing her own compassion and desire to do good) and her rewriting of her own history in her speech and memory to make her own actions seem justified (which we see with her insistence that Adora left her, eliding Adora’s offers to have Catra join her, or her even more clearly false insistence that Entrapta had betrayed them). In Catra, these processes keep her going down the path of evil, and allow her to nearly destroy herself and everyone else. But we can see the same processes at work in two much darker figures - Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime. These are both rants for another day, but the completeness of Shadow Weaver’s narcissistic self-justification and cultivated callousness and the even more complete narcissism of Prime’s god complex cut both characters off from everyone around them. Perhaps, in a theoretical sense, they are still redeemable, but for narrative purposes they might as well be damned.

This willingness to show a case where someone -isn’t- redeemed actually serves to make Catra’s redemption more believable, especially since Noelle and the writers draw the distinction between how Catra and SW/Prime can relate to reality and other people, not how broken they are by their trauma (unlike Zuko and Azula, who are differentiated by How Fucked Uolp They Are). Redemption is there, it’s an option, we can always do what is right, but someone people will choose not to, in part because doing the right thing involves opening ourselves to the world and others, and thus being vulnerable. Noelle mentions this offhandedly in an interview after Season 1 with the She-Ra Progressive of Power podcast - “I sometimes think that shades of grey, sympathetic villains are part of the escapist fantasy of shows like this.” Because in the real world, some people are just bastards, a point that was particularly clear in 2017. Prime and Shadow Weaver admit this reality, while Catra makes a philosophical point that even the bastards can change their ways (at least in theory).

*An idea first proposed in the second century by Origen, who’s a trip and a fucking half by himself, and an idea that becomes the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, which protestants vehemently denied!

**Speaking of favorite Noelle tropes

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Please can you tell me everything you know about Siôn Corn when you've got a spare minute some time?

LMAO I expect I know exactly why you’re asking this, and for the record, yes, listening to Steff explaining this to you wrong was torturous. 

Okay, so, he got the first bit rightish: the literal translation of Siôn Corn is indeed “Chimney John”. And, he’s also right that this is a weird aspect of the Father Christmas myth for the Welsh to choose to focus on, since other names are like

Father Christmas. The benevolent old man who encapsulates the holiday of CHRISTMAS

St Nicholas. A literal saint who helped the poor

Santa Claus. A derivation of St Nicholas; see above

Kris Kringle. From the German “Kristkindl”, meaning “Christ child”.

Siôn Corn. Weirdo who enters and exits your house through the chimney.

Really, you’d expect the Welsh to have been Tad Nadolig, for a literal translation of Father Christmas. Buuuuuuut, there’s inevitably more to it than that.

So the modern myth of Santa really is fairly modern, dating to about the 1850s in America. Now, Britain had the older English tradition of Father Christmas at the time, dating from roughly the 16th century, but he was actually very contentious because British Christians historically loved fighting about the Right Way To Perform Christianity without ever reading a single fucking word Jesus actually said, and the Puritans fucking hated him for being pagan and idolatrous or something. Anyway, he was a bit different, and he waxed and waned in popularity until Santa Claus crossed over from the States thanks to Dutch settlers and promptly got merged. 

Anyway, “Christmas-specific gift-giving figure” was something children adopted with glee. Adults enjoyed the mystery aspect. All was good.

But, just as Santa got added to a pre-existing English figure...

Same thing happened in Wales. 

Now, Anglo-Wales were also on the Father Christmas train, but Welsh language Wales had its own shit going on. And yes, I am aware that you people all know about the creepy horse skull Christmas ghost thing, yes, I pick up several hundred new followers every Christmas period as that post does the rounds again, but the Mari Lwyd is more of a mid-winter celebration than a specifically Christmas one - most are done on New Year’s these days. And, naturally, she was not the only bit of Christmas folklore about the place, and that was just as well, because while it’s fairly easy to ascribe Jolly Christmas Gift Giver to Father Christmas, it’s much harder to lend qualities like generosity and Christ-like compassion to, as you yourself once put it so eloquently Maia, an ornery horse-skulled nightmare beast. 

(Side note: JUST IMAGINE if we had tho. “Goodnight, children! Remember to leave out the cheese and cider for Santa Mari. She’ll go through the cupboards for it otherwise. Ooh, is she here?!? I think I hear the sound of bones clacking on the roof!”)

Anyway: another, there was.

So, around Glamorgan/Gwent kind of way there was a local sort of fey spirit thing called, according to the English-language sources from the time, Chimney Jack. Now Chimney Jack falls right into the standard faerie motifs from Welsh domestic life in which you have to do your housework well to be rewarded, and if you don’t you get punished. Like all such creatures, the tales were told to kids to get them to behave. In Chimney Jack’s case, there’s an interesting detail: if you behaved, he would reward you by leaving you a gift of coal. If you were bad, you got nothing.

Wales, of course, was super-poor, so coal was actually a very important gift. But that was subsequently sucked into the bigger myth and turned into the punishment - toys if you’re good, coal if you’re bad. BUT, more to the point, Chimney Jack was also so-named because he was believed to be a faerie that lived in the chimney. If you were REALLY bad he’d throw soot around the house, too, and clog up the flue and make the fire crackle and spit.

But, we therefore have two important elements, you’ll note: he gives gifts, and he lives in the chimney. Much like this zippy new god of children called Santa Claus that we’re importing for Christmas joy, and hey, they are very similar aren’t they? Probs the same thing, we should think. Hey kids, come listen to the tale of  Siôn Corn.

And that’s why we end up with Siôn Corn instead of Tad Nadolig - because our Santa figure doesn’t come from the English tradition. He comes from a tricksy faerie of Welsh provenance called Chimney Jack. 

And yes, I’m pretty sure early pre-mince pie offerings to appease him were cheese.

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios University

The heavy iron door that led into the building scraped loudly against the stone floors as Theo pushed against it. It had looked rusted in place, but it eventually gave way with a little force. Theo hadn’t been sure of what to expect to find inside the ominous building, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The hallway was lined with decrepit looking cells, each containing a heavily rusted bed frame and little else. Whoever had owned this place wasn’t exactly running a hotel. Being anywhere near the cells made Theo anxious. He could feel the remnants of blood shed centuries ago, caked into the cracks of the walls. Bad things had happened here.

He ran quickly past the iron bars and up a stone staircase. He didn’t care where it led, as long as it was nowhere near where he’d been. 

Before him now was a large, open chamber that looked like it had once been divided into several rooms. There were faint piles of rubble on the floor that may have once been walls and a large, ornate fountain in the center that miraculously still flowed with running water despite it’s obvious age.

The air hummed even louder around him in this place. It had to be some kind of spell, or some kind of magic that kept the fountain going as the years passed while the building collapsed around it. Theo could feel something around him calling out, and then quickly pulling away again.

“Hello?”

His call went unanswered, though Theo wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing exactly. There was more blood on the stone floor by the fountain, and he could see much more marking the floor by a number of windows. If his parents were here, they would probably tell him to leave. Well, they weren’t with him and they never would be again. It was time for Theo to do what he thought was important, even if the situation was getting a little scary.

Theo, little Theophilus

Theo searched frantically for the source of the words he’d heard, but found nothing. He was alone, but the words had sounded so close. The voice didn’t sound familiar. It was barely a voice at all. A voice without sound.

A blast of energy suddenly exploded from the fountain, enveloping Theo in a blinding blue light. It filled the room in an instant, forcefully pushing Theo into his dark form, and then even further.

Theo had never known power like this. He’d never dreamed such power was even possible. At his age he could mostly read, knew some basic math, and thought that he could live on the two sandwiches and bag of cookies that he’d been given by his friends. At the same time, he could feel the hum of the world around him, see the energy crackle through the air towards him. He could hold life in the palm of his hand and then snuff it out without a second thought.

Blood trickled down from his nose as more energy poured into his tiny body. Every cell within him was changing somehow. A switch had been flipped inside of him that he’d never known existed, and there was no going back. He’d been strong before, especially while focusing his energy through his enchanted crystal, but this...this was something else.

Romana, Romanus, Theophilus. Remember Theophilus.

The soundless voice repeated itself once more and then fell silent. The rush of energy stopped building within him, and Theo finally was released from the blinding glow.

He searched once more for the elusive voice, but no guiding figure stepped out of the shadows to explain what was going on. No welcoming signs or concerned parent appeared either. He was still alone in this strange chamber, but at the same time, he was far from alone. Something had called to him with words. Confusing words, but definitely something more tangible than the vague feeling he often felt when experimenting with what he could do.

“It’s not Theophilus,” he called out cautiously. “Most people think it’s Theodore, but that’s-”

A sudden chill paused Theo mid sentence. He was about to say his name, just like he did for every substitute teacher or friendly adult who had no idea what Theo stood for, but some strong instinct held him back.

“No, sorry, that's right, but I just go by Theo,” he lied. The name had a weight to it that he liked, and for a reason that he didn’t understand, it made him feel safe. Something had awakened in him and this new power demanded him to name it to possess it. 

Awaken Theophilus. Awaken to your destiny.

Pain gripped Theo in a way he'd never experienced in his short life. He could feel energy pouring into him without end, setting every cell in his body aflame. The strange voice called out again, urging him forward. Urging him towards someone or somewhere important. To revel in his power. To seek out vengeance.

The air burned around Theo as he watched his hand begin to fade in horror. It felt like he was teleporting, but he wasn't in control of what was happening. His eyes squeezed shut in fear before he saw the rest of his body fade. Every part of him cried out for his parents, for them to help protect him even if they hadn't wanted him. As it turned out, he wasn't as great as he'd thought he'd be at protecting himself on his own. But he'd never told them where he was going, and they had no way of finding him with his necklace on. There was no way of taking it off with hands that were fading away. Wherever he was being sent, getting that necklace off as soon as he could may be the only way he'd ever see his family again.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

time travel aus, amirite? since we’ve all decided to start talking about our ideas, i thought i’d throw my hat into the ring. i’ve actually had this idea for a while, i just wasn’t sure what to do with it because i barely have the patience for one-shots, let alone the continuous plotted longfic this would need

it’s not my idea, of course, i’m incapable of original thought. it’s based off this can-i-really-call-it-a-genre-if-it’s-two-fics-with-the-same-premise where some combination of maedhros, maglor, elros, and elrond land in the blessed realm before - even the unchaining, in my take, when the ambarussa are still children and the world is blissful. it’s more specifically my take on this fic, which takes elrond and elros from very early in their captivity and maedhros from just before the silmaril theft and maglor from several centuries into the second age. i just plugged my own characterisations into it, and, uh. the specific setup this not-genre uses is that maitimo and makalaurë *~mysteriously disappear,~* throwing their extended family into chaos, blah blah blah, and then a few decades later -

well. with my characterisations, we have a nightmare hellbeast who’s burned up everything he used to be in singular pursuit of an unreachable goal and has carved his very self into a weapon, a completely drained beaten-up husk barely cognisant of reality past the screaming in his mind who’s so utterly broken it’s debatable if he even counts as an elda, and two extremely young extremely traumatised children in a completely unfamiliar land- and skyscape whose only adult they can maybe-kind-of trust is currently bleeding from the eyes and shrieking wordless notes of utter despair

yeah, this au’s Fun. elrond and elros have maybe eight words of quenya between them, most of which are obscene, maedhros will act completely normal until he suddenly stabs himself in the arm because can’t this stupid hallucination end already, he has a character arc to tank, and maglor seems completely unaware he’s not still on the beach having the same cyclic arguments with the ghosts of the people he failed. the elves of valinor aren’t completely unprepared to deal with this, at least not the ones who remember cuiviénen, but it’s still a massive shock to see two of the children they came to the land of the gods to protect twisted and scarred like the worst victims of the dark. especially since noone can figure out why

so yeah. i have trouble finishing oneshot collections, so i doubt i’ll ever write this out in full, but i do have a lot of Scenes. fëanáro staring in utter horror at the oath, whispering ‘i made this.’ elros and elrond’s somewhat hole-filled explanation of their backstory devolving into a sindarin argument, and when the family asks tyelkormo what they’re talking about he freezes before saying ‘they’re arguing about whether maitimo killed their mother.’ the moment maglor finally managed to get through what happened after they got the silmarils to maedhros, who immediately switches from off-the-cuff self-harm to well-planned suicide attempts. the five-minute period the family hellspawn’s working theory was ‘they’re maitimo and makalaurë from an alternate universe where we’re evil’ (‘is there an evil version of me??? does he eat kids???????’ - tyelko) finwë going full bulldoze taniquetil in the background. fun times, might write some snippets in the future

but i like to think through the mechanics of this kind of time travel story too much, so i started wondering where maitimo and makalaurë, yanno, went. i quickly came to the conclusion that they probably swapped places with their evil future selves, giving me three time travel aus for the price of one! technically four but (a) i’m not sure if or with who the twins would swap and (b) if they did their alternate selves are probably having a really bad time and i don’t particularly want to think about it. the stories maitimo and makalaurë are in... they’re not necessarily any happier, but they are a lot more wtftastic

maitimo falls asleep under the light of the trees, on a relaxing retreat from the demands of court life and family-induced disasters. he wakes up in a world that’s almost completely dark, surrounded by plants he’s never seen before and wearing clothing designed for a much warmer climate, the scent of death in the air. now permanently separated from all his old problems, maitimo rapidly acquires several exciting new ones, including but not limited to:

everyone he ever loved being dead or worse

the lone possible exception, his last surviving little brother, being an almost unrecognisable blood-drenched kinslayer who hates everything in the universe especially himself

said blood-drenched kinslayer almost immediately imprinting on him like a grouchy murderous duckling

his future self having apparently wanted to kill even more people, why

getting dogpiled by like thirty dudes in full armour the instant they showed up at the army of the west’s camp to surrender

getting soul-scanned by eönw two minutes later. not fun

arafinwë pulling him into an enormous hug and then bursting into tears

the subsequent explanation as to just what happened to him and his brothers, which somehow got worse after he’d already thought they’d hit rock bottom like four separate times

proceeding to lose a staring contest with findaráto

the way everyone in camp looks at him like he’s an incredibly dangerous wild animal that might bite at any time

how if half of what arafinwë said is true he can’t even blame them, fuck, fuck

the twin half-elven(?????????????) princes he and his brother apparently kidnapped and held hostage for years, inflicting unimaginable cruelties as far as anyone knows

his first meeting with the kids happening when elrond broke into where they were holding maglor to scream at him in very loud very fast very angry sindarin for like half an hour

maglor just staring at him, eyes wide, ears pinned back, the whole time, and then trying to maul the first guard who mocked him for it

getting saddled with kinslayer containment duties in the aftermath of that whole incident

elrond punching him in the collarbone when he tried to apologise, shouting ‘you weren’t there, don’t you dare try to tell me what it was like’

elros’ visible half second of pure terror after the blow hit home

elros then using recognisable techniques from maitimo’s debate team circuit during a speech to the edain

like, clearly some shit did happen, but it’s obviously not what the local leadership’s afraid of

this sour-faced scar-covered warrior slipping out of the shadows in an unpopulated part of camp, kneeling before him, intoning ‘the swords of the host remain at your disposal my lord’ and then immediately vanishing

he didn’t recognise them until after they’d left but they were definitely one of his philosophy club friends, what even

just generally having woken up in a future a thousand times worse than his darkest nightmares

his natural instinct is to try and fix things, but how?? what’s even left to fix????

maglor sometimes goes into these unhinged desperate spiralling rambles directed at the older brother who exists in his head rather than the one in front of his eyes. whatever’s left of maitimo’s biggest little brother is clearly in so much pain

all the things he’s trying extremely hard not to think about because if he slows down enough to he’s pretty sure he’ll collapse

all the people he’s never met who hate him for pretty understandable reasons and whose social structure he now has to learn to have any hope of making it out of All This

the edain’s collective insistence on calling him pasthros

curufinwë isn’t even a hundred how does he have a kid

makalaurë, on the other hand, wakes up on a beach beneath a giant glowing orb. finding himself in a land so much barer than what he knows, among people whose souls don’t even work like his, his initial working theory is he’s been abducted by aliens

[onecanonlife]

the wind that remakes

It's been ten years since the princes of the Antarctic Empire vanished. But the king's still offering a hefty reward for their return, and Tommy thinks it's about time he and Tubbo tried for it. No matter what they have to do.

It's time to pull off the con of the century.

(fic masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(next chapter)

(chapter word count: 5,474)

--------------------

Chapter One: let the valleys awake (let them rattle and shake)

It starts like this: Tommy and Tubbo are looking for someone they could feasibly pass off as one of the Lost Princes of the Antarctic Empire, because the reward is a shit load of money and Tommy wants a piece of it. But they’re not having any luck, right up until they pass by a busker on the street corner and something in Tommy’s head just clicks, just says, yes, that one, he’s the one.

And, well. Tommy is a Big Man whose instincts are never wrong, so he nudges Tubbo and points. Tubbo’s nose scrunches up, but Tommy doesn’t give him time to object before he’s marching over, already preparing his dialogue. And as he gets closer, he’s more and more certain that he’s right about this; the guy has the right hair color, the right face structure, and he’s a performer to boot, and taken all together, it smells like a successful scam just waiting to be implemented.

The guy doesn’t look up when he comes over, so instead of talking to him, Tommy pulls out the rumpled picture that they’ve been using all day, one of the photos of Prince Wilbur that’s been circulating around the Empire for years now, in hopes that someone will see him and bring him home. Fat chance of that ever happening, of course, and King Philza must be a sucker for thinking it, but it makes his and Tubbo’s jobs easier, so he’s hardly going to complain about it. He holds the picture up, comparing the face of the prince to that of the street performer, and actually, the resemblance is kind of uncanny.

“Tubbo, my friend,” he says, “I think we’ve got him.”

Tubbo makes a noncommittal noise, but that finally gets the performer to look up from his guitar.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks, and Tommy grins.

“Actually, we’re about to help you,” he says, and he sounds very grand and impressive, if he does say so himself. Which makes it all the more annoying when the guy looks him up and down like he’s worth the dirt on his shoes.

“Really,” he says, and his voice is dripping with so much sarcasm, Tommy’s surprised that it doesn’t manifest physically somehow.

“Yes, really,” he says. He refuses to be put off. This is the guy, he just knows it, the guy who’s going to make them so fucking rich that they’ll be able to swim in gold, or whatever it is rich people do with their money. “You’re one of the Lost Princes of the Antarctic Empire.”

The guy blinks. “Pretty sure I’m not,” he says.

“Pretty sure you are,” he returns. “See, look, we’ve got a photo of you and everything.” He shows the guy the photo, and the guy narrows his eyes. “Or at least, we’ve got a photo of Prince Wilbur, but it could be you, too. That’s a kid in this picture. No telling what he looks like now. Could look like you.”

“We’re inviting you in on our scam,” Tubbo puts in. “If you couldn’t tell. You interested?”

“Wait,” the guy says. “Wait. You’re telling me that you want to pretend that I’m a fucking prince so that you can get the reward money off the king? Something I’m sure no one has ever tried to do before. You don’t know me at all, and you don’t know if I can act worth a damn, you just think I look like the prince did when he was fourteen. But just to be clear, that’s what you’re proposing?”

He looks at Tubbo. Tubbo looks at him.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Tubbo says. “If it makes you feel better about it, we’re really, really good con artists.”

“You’re infants, is what you are,” the guy says. “How old are you, five?”

“We’re sixteen, fuck off,” Tommy snaps. “Look, do you want in or not? Pretty sure living in a cushy palace has got to be better than whatever you’ve got going on here.”

“Hm, let’s see, do I want to upend my entire life to try to trick a grieving father into thinking that I’m one of his long lost sons? Which, incidentally, is a plan that will probably not work and get us all thrown in prison for fraud,” the guy says.

“We’re going to try very hard not to get thrown into prison for fraud,” Tubbo is quick to say, but the guy doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

“Sure, let’s go,” the guy says. “Not like I’ve got much else to do. You two have names?”

“This is Tubbo,” Tommy says. “I’m Tommy.”

The guy raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, like Prince Tommy,” he says. “It’s a common name, so shut up about it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” the guy says. “I mean, my name’s Will, so.”

He can’t stop himself from laughing, because that’s just too good. “Are you serious?” he demands, smiling widely. “You’re joking, your name is actually Will?”

Will shrugs. “It’s what I’ve always gone by, ever since I was a teenager. I can’t really remember any of my childhood, so who knows, maybe I actually am a prince.” He smiles in a way that makes it clear how much of a joke he thinks that is, and he stands and reaches for his guitar case. There’s not much money in it, despite the fact that from what Tommy heard of his playing, he’s pretty damn good.

Tubbo snorts.

And Tommy claps their newfound friend on the back.

“Will,” he says, “I think this is the beginning of an excellent partnership.” He grins broadly, the type of grin that always has Tubbo rolling his eyes and asking where the fire is, which is unfair, frankly. It’s not always a fire. Just sometimes, because arson can be fun, actually, and some people deserve to have their stuff burned down.

Will, to his delight and Tubbo’s obvious consternation, grins the same kind of grin right back at him.

-----

It starts like this: it is indeed the beginning of an excellent partnership.

Will fits in with them like he was born to the role, and Tommy will never admit how fast he’s gotten attached to the guy, but he is kind of very attached. Because Will is smart and funny, with a sense of wit that can have both him and Tubbo in stitches, and it’s also nice to have an adult around, a bit. Not that he and Tubbo need one; they’ve gotten along just fine without for years. But people don’t shoot them as many suspicious looks when they’re with Will, and it turns out that he’s a brilliant actor, too, charismatic and smooth and confident, and he has people eating right out of his hand while Tommy and Tubbo sneak around and pick their pockets. It’s a wonderful arrangement, and within a week or two, Tommy can barely remember what life was like without him there.

The main issue is travel.

It’s a long way from where they started to the Capitol, and they can’t always afford to travel in the protected caravans, the ones with hired guards against the mobs that swarm over the land at night. And they can’t always afford an inn to stay in, either, and that means spending several harrowing lengths of time cowering in a makeshift shelter, listening to zombies and skeletons and spiders just outside and praying that none of them find their hiding spot, because they’re all scrappy in a fight but they don’t have any real weapons on them. They hadn’t planned for this, really; he and Tubbo have never left the big cities before, and apparently, Will hasn’t either.

“We need a bodyguard,” he declares one day.

“Where are we supposed to get one of those?” Tubbo asks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “But we need one. I’m sick of mobs.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Will says. He’s setting up a busking spot, trying to get them a little more cash. Somehow, it never seems to be enough. “But I agree with Tubbo. Even if we can find someone to go with us, there’s payment to think about.”

“We don’t need payment,” he protests. “We’ve got a prince! A long lost prince! We’re about to be the richest men in the world! That’s payment, innit?”

Will rolls his eyes. Tubbo does too. They’ve been doing that lately, ganging up on him, which is terrible and unfair.

“Somehow, I don’t think that a good bodyguard will accept that kind of payment,” Tubbo says. “It’d basically be an IOU, right? That’s a terrible business practice.”

He scowls. Tubbo is right, of course, but he’s got his heart set on a bodyguard now. Someone who’s good at fighting—good at fighting mobs, specifically, because Tommy is a very good fighter, thank you very much, it’s just that the people he’s used to fighting are other street kids. For, like, food. Not monsters. Not things that can kill you in one blow, if you’re unlucky.

And then, like fate and providence are shining down on him, his eyes alight on a poster across the street. The poster advertises arena fighting. In this city. Fights daily.

He grabs Tubbo’s arm.

“That,” he says, pointing, “is where we find a bodyguard.”

Tubbo follows his gaze. “Maybe,” he says doubtfully, “but we’ll still need to pay them. How are we supposed to convince someone to come along? I bet they get paid more for fighting than we could ever offer them.”

“Tubbo,” he says, “we’re the greatest con artists in the world. We can think of something.”

Tubbo stares at him. And then grins.

Behind them, Will starts to play.

-----

It starts like this: Will manages to busk enough money to get them three tickets into the arena.

It hurts just a bit, spending their legitimately-earned cash on something like this. But five minutes after stepping through the gates, into the crush of people and the roar of the crowds, the scent of sweat and blood mingling with concessions and stale perfume, Tommy thinks that this might be one of the best things he’s ever gotten to do in his life.

Their seats aren’t great, but they can see alright. The day’s matches start with small fry, and those fights are so boring that he almost starts yawning, because these people are just bashing each other with swords. There’s no finesse to it, no real skill, and he really hopes that there are fighters here better than this, because if there aren’t, this has been a wasted trip. But slowly and surely, the fights get better, more engaging, more of a real show, and his interest returns.

And then, when they’ve been there for hours and the sun is starting to creep toward the horizon, they bring out the big guns.

The announcer calls out someone with the moniker of ‘The Blade,’ and the crowd goes wild. They, evidently, know who this is, and that fact alone is enough to put Tommy on the edge of his seat, because surely, this is who they want? The headliner, the number one, the main attraction? If the spectators like them this much, they must be good.

They step out into the arena, dust clouds puffing where their feet fall, and the crowd gets impossibly louder. It’s hard to make out details from this distance, but Tommy can see pink hair, tied back into a braid, and some kind of mask covering the upper part of their face. It looks a bit like a skull, like this person is actually wearing an actual skull on their face, and that is either extremely overkill or extremely badass, and Tommy can’t quite decide which.

And then, there’s the massive netherite sword they’re holding. Their namesake, Tommy assumes. It’s probably the biggest sword he’s ever seen, and this person is holding it like it weighs nothing at all.

Their opponent comes out, and even though they’re also armed to the teeth, they don’t look nearly as natural as the Blade does. They hold their axe out in front of them as if to ward off blows rather than make them, and they’ve got their shield lifted too high. The Blade, meanwhile, spins their sword—and how strong must they be, to wield such a huge weapon so naturally?—in casual circles, appearing for all the world like this is no more strenuous than a walk in the park.

The announcer shouts. The fight commences.

The Blade fights like it’s as natural as breathing, and Tommy can’t look away. Their style is a mixture of sheer brutality and uncanny grace, and it’s difficult to watch, sometimes, difficult to keep track of exactly what they’re doing; one moment, it will look as if their opponent is holding their own, and then the next, they will have that sword at that opponent’s throat. Or through it, sometimes. The Blade doesn’t seem to have any compunctions about killing.

Tommy loses track of how many matches they fight. Six, maybe, or seven. But they win all of them handily, and by the time the events are all over and people begin to file out of the arena, he’s practically shaking with excitement.

Tubbo beats him to the punch.

“So, it’s them, right?” he says. “We’re gonna try to get them?”

Tommy nods rapidly, unable to contain himself.

“We have to,” he says. “That was fucking—I don’t know what the hell that was, but it was fantastic!”

He glances over at Will, only to find that he’s still staring out into the arena, eyes slightly glazed. Tommy furrows his brow, waiting for him to say something, but when it becomes apparent that he’s not going to, he speaks up.

“Will? You agree?” he asks, and Will blinks, shudders a bit.

“Right,” he says, “yeah, no, sorry, I’m good. Yeah, if we’re actually going to do this, we should aim for the best.”

He still seems a bit out of it, a bit dazed, but he turns his head to meet Tommy’s eyes and smiles, and Tommy tucks his concerns away with the mental equivalent of a shrug. If Will says he’s good, that’s good enough for him.

“Alright,” he says, standing, cracking his knuckles dramatically. Tubbo rolls his eyes at the display, but he ignores him. “Let’s go get ourselves a Blade.”

-----

It starts like this: the key to sneaking in someplace is to look as though you belong there. That’s easier said than done, of course, especially for two ragged teens and a slightly less ragged young adult. But Tommy’s had a long time to figure things like this out, and so has Tubbo, and Will hasn’t done this very often but he always takes to acting out new roles as if he was born to them, so Tommy’s not particularly worried. They find a door marked for employees and slip in, and from there it’s just a matter of finding their way.

He’s got a story prepared in case they get stopped, something about being sent with a message, but no one gives them a second glance. He keeps his head held high, his stride purposeful but not too confident, and simple as that, he appears to be just like everyone else, age and clothing notwithstanding.

“Do they have rooms down here, do you think?” Tubbo mutters. “The fighters?”

“Maybe,” he replies. “Even if they don’t, I bet the Blade is still here. The fight didn’t end that long ago.”

There are a lot of rooms under the arena, a lot of hallways, a lot of space, and it’s a bit mazelike, really. Dark, too; they’ve got redstone-powered lighting, but it’s fritzy, the bulbs flickering and dim. The walls and floors are hard, dank stone, the kind that echoes loudly with every noise, and Tommy can’t help but wince when the sound of their passage bounces off of every surface.

“There’s lots of swords in there,” Tubbo says, peering into one of the rooms they pass. “Isn’t that the Blade’s?”

Tommy stops walking, stepping up next to Tubbo. The room is full of weapons and armor of all kinds, but sure enough, there’s a large sword sitting alone on a table, still flecked with dried blood. It’s even larger up close; Tommy’s not sure he could lift it without using two hands, much less fight with it, though it pains him to admit as much. The Blade is just that strong, apparently, though why he’d leave his prized weapon sitting here in a room of other weapons, out in the open where anyone could mess with it, Tommy has no idea. Unless the sword isn’t actually his, but that doesn’t make much sense, does it?

“Tommy, Tubbo,” Will hisses, the sound sharp in the otherwise empty corridor, and Tommy looks over. Will is standing in front of an iron door a little ways down, a door with a barred window in it. He’s got his eyes fixed on whatever’s on the other side, his expression somewhere between shock and anger, and Tommy exchanges glances with Tubbo.

“What?” he asks, coming over.

“Have a look,” Will whispers, moving aside so that he and Tubbo can see.

He immediately understands what has Will upset.

“Oh gods,” Tubbo says. “They’re prisoners.”

There are cages in this room. Dozens of them, built with black iron, though only a few are occupied. Tommy recognizes most of the people in them, all people who fought in the arena earlier, the best fighters, the ones that gave a good showing, that were actually interesting to watch. They’re all in cages, most of them sitting or lying down, none of them moving all that much. It’s a stark contrast to before, when they were all movement, all aggression. Now, they seem—listless is the best word to describe it. Purposeless. Like all the fight’s been sucked right out of them.

A few of them are in chains, even inside their cages. The Blade is one of those, manacles wrapped around their wrists and ankles, and a collar around their neck. It’s sick, is what it is, like they’re some sort of animal.

“Shit,” Tubbo says. “I thought the hardest part was gonna be trying to convince them to come. Now we’ve got to do a prison break?”

“This isn’t right,” Will mutters. “This isn’t—they’re being forced to fight?”

“Only one way to find out,” Tommy says, and reaches out to push the door open. For a second, it doesn’t budge, and he wonders if it’s locked, because wouldn’t that just be perfect? But then, there is give, and it swings inward with a squeal of rusted hinges. Beside him, Tubbo steps back to look up and down the hallway, but no one appears to shout at them or kill them for trespassing, so Tommy squares his shoulders and strides into the room, trying to keep looking like he belongs.

It doesn’t matter much. Just like the employees they passed, none of the fighters—the prisoners—seem interested at all. So Tommy walks through the room unimpeded until he’s right next to the Blade’s cage. The Blade is sitting on the ground, leaning against the bars, head bowed. They don’t look up.

So Tommy clears his throat.

“Hello,” he says, and congratulates himself on an excellent beginning.

Slowly, the Blade’s head rises, and Tommy can see two things: one, that what he thought might have been a skull mask back in the arena is definitely an entire real skull, holy shit, and two, that the Blade is a young man, far younger than he would have thought him to be. Maybe even younger than Will, who estimates his own age to be around the ballpark of twenty-four or twenty-five.

“Hallo,” the Blade says after a moment. Tommy almost laughs out loud, because the word is said so awkwardly, and more than a bit bewildered, as if the Blade can’t fathom why someone would be talking to him. Which is a bit sad, actually, so Tommy’s going to choose to believe that he’s confused by the presence of a teenager and not by the fact that anyone is there at all. Because the second would just be downright depressing.

“You’re the Blade, right?” Tommy checks.

“That’s what they call me,” the Blade agrees. “And you are?”

“We want to hire you,” Tubbo jumps in. “Or at least, we did. We weren’t really expecting you to be locked up or anything. We might need a new plan. But we wanted you to come with us and be our bodyguard.”

It’s difficult to tell exactly what the Blade’s expression is doing, considering that most of the top half of his face is hidden by the animal skull—is it a pig? Tommy’s pretty sure that it’s a pig, or a boar, or maybe even a hoglin, considering its size—but his eyes are visible, and he glances between both of them slowly, skeptically. Tommy bristles.

“And just what do a couple of ragamuffins need a bodyguard for?” the Blade drawls. “You skip school too many times?” He pauses. “Who do children fight these days? Other children? I can fight you some orphans if you want, I guess. I’m pretty good at that.”

Tommy blinks, his mouth working silently for a second. He wants to be indignant at being addressed like a kid, like he’s not even worthy of consideration, but that is superseded by his sheer bewilderment at the way the Blade talks, like he’d just casually enjoy the chance to rough up some orphans. He looks at Tubbo, and sees the exact same question reflected in his best friend’s face: Just what kind of guy have we started talking to?

This isn’t like Will, where he could tell immediately that he would be right for the job and for their team overall. The smart thing to do would probably be to give up and look elsewhere for someone to hire. And yet, Tommy finds himself intrigued. This is a very strange man, obviously, and he’s never been able to resist poking at strange things.

“No, no orphans,” he says, muttering a quick, “What the fuck?” under his breath for good measure. “We just need protection on the road. From mobs and such. We will literally break you out of here if you come with us.”

The Blade tilts his head.

“You could try,” he says. “I can’t say I’m enthusiastic about the idea.”

“You can’t possibly want to stay in here,” Tubbo says incredulously. The Blade shrugs.

“No,” he agrees, “but there’s not much of anythin’ for me out there, either. Everything about this place sucks, but at least I get to fight people. I like doin’ that. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I got out.”

And that—forget earlier, that is so, so incredibly sad. In both the pathetic way and in the actual terrible way.

“There’ll be plenty of mobs to fight on the road,” he says, grasping at straws now. He’s got a few ideas for how they could successfully orchestrate a prison break, but in order for that to happen, the Blade needs to be willing to go. “Loads of ‘em. And besides, we’re bringing Prince Wilbur back to the king, and there’ll be a great big reward for it. You’ll be rich enough to do whatever you want after that.”

“Like fight orphans,” Tubbo adds helpfully.

“Yeah, like fighting orphans. So c’mon, what do you say?”

The Blade has gone very, very still.

“You’re doing what?” he says, his tone completely flat. A shiver runs down Tommy’s spine, because that is not a good tone. That is a tone that promises violence, that promises bloodshed, that promises death, and he’s not sure how he knows that, but he’s sure of it, sure as he knows his own name, that he has somehow just said something to make this man very, very dangerous.

“Uh, we’ve found Prince Wilbur?” he says. “And we’re bringing him back to the Capitol so we can get the reward money? And that’s why we need—”

“Prince Wilbur is dead. All of the princes of the Antarctic Empire are dead.”

The way he says it shocks Tommy into silence, and he doesn’t know why. It’s hardly an outrageous thing to say; it’s the general consensus of the common folk, after all, that King Philza is clinging to false hope, that he is a decent man but also one to be pitied, for refusing to accept the loss of his sons. Hell, Tommy himself has never believed in the myths, in the stories that go something like, so-and-so saw one of the princes by the train tracks or so-and-so saw them on a cart crossing the border or shit like that. The princes were kids when the invasion happened and the Empire itself was almost lost; there’s probably no way that they survived being taken by the enemy, the invaders that crept out of the End.

But the way the Blade says it—

He’s so certain. Like there is absolutely no doubt in his mind. The princes are dead, and there’s not even room for argument, not room for so much as a rumor to the contrary. Tommy agrees with him, but even he can’t claim that level of surety.

“Uh,” Tubbo says. “I mean, obviously it’s a scam. We’re scamming the king. We don’t actually have the prince. But we’d still like a bodyguard.”

“No,” the Blade says, in that same voice, low and monotone and terrifying. “You should leave. I’ll have no part in this.”

“Oh come on,” Tommy says, regaining his voice. He doesn’t know what to do with the Blade’s convictions, but he knows how to talk his way out of a denial. “Look, why don’t you—where’s Will? Will?”

Will’s not standing at the cage with them. Somehow, he’s only just noticing this. He turns, and Will is lurking back by the door to the room, keeping to the shadows, shifting uneasily. Which, fine, he can do what he wants, except for right now, because the more adamantly the Blade turns them down, the more Tommy wants him to come along.

“Will,” he calls, and his voice reverberates through the room. A couple of the other prisoners lift their heads. “Come talk to this guy! Tell him he should come with us!”

Will approaches slowly, strangely hesitantly, stepping up on the other side of Tubbo.

“We are in the market for a bodyguard,” he says quietly. “We thought you fit the bill.” He pauses. “We can’t guarantee that any of this will work, of course, but I’m an excellent actor, and these two are literal children, but they’re not bad.”

“Aw, thanks,” Tubbo says.

“Watch who you’re calling a fucking child,” Tommy says.

“What?” the Blade says. “You’re—Wilbur?”

“Will,” Will corrects, “but yes, we’re passing me off as Prince Wilbur.”

“Passing you off,” the Blade repeats. Slowly, he rises to his feet for the first time, and wow, he’s tall.

“Kind of the definition of a scam,” Tommy says.

“A scam,” the Blade repeats again. “This is a scam.”

“We just told you this,” he says. “Are you a bit slow or what?”

“No, just tryin’ to understand,” the Blade says. “You’re tellin’ me right now that this is definitely a scam. And you are not actually Prince Wilbur of the Antarctic Empire.”

“That is what we’re telling you, yes,” Will says, and Tommy is glad that he does, because he’s pretty sure he’s lost the thread of the conversation. The Blade is a strange, strange man, and frankly, he’s not making any sense at all anymore.

“Okay,” the Blade says. “I’m in. Bust me out.”

Tommy blinks. And then blinks again.

“What, really?”

“Yeah, you’ve convinced me,” the Blade says.

“Literally how,” Tubbo states, but Tommy punches him on the arm to get him to shut up, because they don’t need him to think about it, don’t need him second-guessing his decision.

“Alright!” he whoops. “One jail break, coming right up!”

“Right,” the Blade says. “Who are you again?”

He’s already leaving the room. But he hears Tubbo say, “I’m Tubbo, and that’s Tommy,” and he hears the Blade’s strangled, “Heh?” in return, and that’s a bit weird, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. They’ve inducted a strange man into their little band, but that doesn’t matter much, as long as he’s as good with his sword against mobs as he is against people.

-----

It starts like this: a massive netherite sword, left unattended, works amazingly for cutting through iron.

A massive, enchanted netherite sword also works amazingly for setting things on fire.

It’s a mess after that, a blur and a rush of adrenaline, but they cut up all of the other cages and chains to give the other prisoners a chance to get out, and then they’re running, and the place is on fire behind them because for a labyrinth under an arena, there’s a surprising amount of wood around here. And there are people shouting at them, and a few people that try to attack, but the Blade mows them down and laughs, and there’s blood and lots of it, too, but in the moment it doesn’t seem to matter so much.

He’s got Tubbo by his side. Will at his back. The Blade close at hand. And in a way he can’t quite describe, it feels very right.

-----

It starts like this: Tommy doesn’t know where he comes from.

He sort of vaguely remembers things, sometimes. He thinks he had a family, once. If he strains himself, he can recall fuzzy impressions: someone holding him, safe and warm. Someone’s laugh. Someone singing. An overwhelming sense of being secure, of being protected, of being loved.

But if he strains himself, sometimes he remembers other things, too. Darkness, terror, screams. Fear and disorientation, and a voice, clear as day: “Take your brothers and go!”

He’s turned that piece of dialogue over and over in his mind so many times. It’s all he has, the only hint he has to go on. It’s a male voice, clearly an adult. He likes to think that it’s his father. Though maybe he shouldn’t hope for that; he doesn’t remember what happened, but he’s sure it was dangerous, and if that person was his father, he might be dead. Probably is, in fact. There’s a reason why he ended up in an orphanage, after all.

Those are his first clear memories, at that orphanage. They estimated him at about five or six, and he’s pretty sure they were right, so he really should have at least a few memories from before. But he doesn’t, and the woman who looked after him the most told him that he probably went through what she called a trau-ma-tic event. Because trau-ma-tic events, she said, sounding out the syllables just like that to make sure he understood, could sometimes make you forget things. And sometimes the memories come back, but sometimes they don’t.

She was always kind to him. They all were, at that orphanage. And then that orphanage got shut down and he got shipped off and never saw any of them again, because kindness is no way to run a business. Kindness doesn’t get you many places.

It was orphanage after orphanage after that. They always looked for excuses to get rid of him. He was a problem child, the particular kind that always gets pegged before their mouths even open. He’s never understood it. Something about the look in his eyes, maybe. Not that it matters; he got put in the same orphanage as Tubbo at twelve, and they ran away together and didn’t look back.

No point in crying over dropped diamonds. No point in longing for something he can’t have. Can’t remember.

But sometimes, he lets himself wonder what his life would be like, if he’d gotten to keep that first family he’s certain that he had. He wonders what they were like. His maybe-father. The brothers that he thinks might have been his. He wonders, and he wonders if it’s possible to miss people that he never really knew.

But none of that matters in the long run, not really. Because he’s got his Tubbo, who’s better than any brother he could possibly ask for. And now he’s got Will, who’s funny and charming and just as irritating as he always suspected an older brother would be, and he’s got the Blade, who’s strange and sarcastic and so skilled that it’s scary, honestly, and they’re on their way to scam a king, and there’s nowhere to go but up from here.

He looks around him, at his friends and he thinks, Yeah. Yeah, this is good.