#so probably on hiatus now

[lcs-scar]

rocket toy

[kyouka-supremacy]

I think we should just bring back Wungo Wednesday and start a fandom collective anime rewatch

[desultory-novice]

Apologies AU - Good Ending Drop

Hey, everyone. It was my goal to finish Apologies in tandem with the Tournament, but for health reasons, I won't be able to as I planned. Because I tied the story to the tournament and don't feel like untangling it again and making everyone wait more, I'm going to give you all the ending spoilers, as I promised I would if I became unable to finish the story.

What I'm about to describe is THE Good Ending. The True Ending I had planned out almost from the beginning!

-

In the main-verse...

Susie, who sees too much of herself in Adeleine, decides to take matters into her own hands to bring the girl's older brother back.

She takes the vial of Dark Matter Swordsman DNA that was harvested from King Dedede. Meta Knight catches up with her and argues against it. It's foolish, dangerous, and liable to be nothing but painful to all parties involved. But Susie anticipated interference and asked Zan to bodyguard her. When Zan arrives (late) to the lab, the argument has caused the vial to begin to react to all the negativity in the room. Zan recognizes its contents as Dark Matter and insists on calling Lord Hyness, who in his own quirky way, analyzes their problem and suggests that while the contents are too weak to survive on their own, a resurrection could be possible, using Void's powers to mimic a hive queen, supplying whatever creature emerges the power to survive on Popstar without burning up into ash...

-

In the tourney-verse...

White-Haired Noir is at peace with his life and has come to accept the death of his precious little sister many years ago, but...a part of him still wishes to make Adeleine happy.

Using his fairy-born dimension sight, he discovers an Alternate Noir who is 98% percent compatible with main-verse Noir. This is the Purgatory!Noir from the Re_Birthday post. And he drags this unstable, utterly clueless Noir out of this peaceful void without his permission and secretly "volunteers"  the massively confused, un-alive but un-dead teen boy for the Kirby OC Tournament.

It is White-Haired Noir that is the "good" voice on phone and in Noir's head, encouraging rationality. His goal? Get Noir some friends. Get him to face up to/open up to people about his past. And get him caring about his life enough that he wants to live...! 

White-Haired Noir has seen what the main-verse Star Allies are attempting and knows that the odds of them actually bringing "Noir" back instead of just an emotionless monster are low without a compatible "Noir Soul" (haha) to inhabit the new vessel.

Over the course of many in-tourney events, including Noir learning to have faith in the sibling bonds he built with Gooey despite being Dark Matter at the time, learning to separate himself and Adeleine as individuals instead of clinging to her to his own neglect, privately opening up to King Dedede, who put the pieces together post-possession, about some awful stuff Noir put up with for years in secret from Raquelle's father (who privately loathed Neichel AND her kids and took it out on Noir) to "pay" for Adeleine's good life...

And lastly, using the power of wishes to interrogate if THIS Noir's true wish is to die and be free, to have never been born, to have had a normal "perfect" life, or if he simply wishes for a second chance to be with those he cares about... White-Haired Noir determines that Tourney!Noir is ready and reveals his plan to him. Noir confesses to him that he really does want to live and be with his family again and offers up his stronger soul for Susie and the gang's vessel.

-

Back in the main-verse...

The experiment is a success! They have brought, well, something back. It is not quite like Dark Matter Swordsman in form, nor is it exactly a human boy. It looks a little bit like a spiky haired-Gooey.

After some tense questioning of the emotionless, memoryless, unresponsive goo, it...suddenly seems to awaken. With the voice of a deeply shaken and scared young boy, the violet-eyed blob questions the mad scientist, cultists, and masked man surrounding him... Where the hell is he? And where are his little brother and sister?

Meta Knight welcomes Noir back to the world of the living.

Later, after Noir has time to dress himself in an appropriate scarf, Adeleine and Gooey are brought in and it is a happy and tear-filled reunion all around as Noir confirms that, while this form is strange, it's not dangerous and he's not in pain. He is then re-introduced to King Dedede, whereupon it's revealed that even though Noir likes him, he's still a snarky teen punk at heart, as he sasses the king horribly. (Dedede has gained another kid, but at what cost? XD)

...And that's it.

That's the ending to Apologies I've held onto for nearly a year.

For reading through all that, here is a short comic I drew a while back of the reunited family having a snowball fight in White Wafers.

-

(Not to unnecessarily over-explain the story but because the comic is a little vague, I have to tell you that no, Noir does not ever return to human after his revival. I meant it when I wrote in several places that their parting on Shiver Star was the last time they'd see each other "...in this form." This is merely meant to depict a moment in which Adeleine, seeing her brother alive and smiling and laughing and having real fun for the first time in so long, is able to imagine his old self smiling and is at peace that her brother is finally free from the hurt and misery he bore up with for so long.)

(...And yes, he has a long, silly tongue just like Gooey. Which is why he hides all but his eyes behind the scarf. Gotta keep up that cool older brother look even as a little goo creature! While Noir can't become human - frankly, he doesn't miss having a human body, given the stuff in his adolescence and being over-stressed, underfed, under-slept and just overall sick all the time in his later teens - he does eventually acquire the ability to shift into his old "Swordsman" form for short bursts of time.)

-

(Lastly, you might wonder how I could have had this exact ending in mind from almost the beginning when so much of it is tied up in recent posts like the tourney? ...Well, originally what was going to happen to allow Noir to be properly resurrected into the Dark Matter Goo body is that the Dream Rod from Star Allies was going to appear in response to a grieving Adeleine's wishes to see her brother again, bringing Noir-as-Swordsman back. At least for a LITTLE while, as it would be revealed that with Zero dead, Noir, who was entirely composed of Dark Matter at this point, couldn't survive on Popstar. Every moment he was there, his body was burning.)

(Still, he lasts long enough to have one final talk with Adeleine that helps heal him from the torturous events of DL 3 - in which we learn a highly disappointed Zero drove Noir to the absolute breaking point, shattering his mind and his newly regained soul. Adeleine also tells Noir she has finally realized everything he did for her during their childhood and apologizes to him for not seeing it before. With dawn on the horizon, Noir asks to look over Adeleine's sketchbooks with her before the end... He dies one last time, peacefully, while Adeleine finally gets to properly mourn him.)

(Then, all the "main-verse" sections proceed to happen as stated above!)

-

(...Okay, okay. One last thing. There was also an alternate ending planned where Magolor, taking advantage of the fact that Merry Magoland was built on a nexus point, finds a way to reunite Adeleine and White-Haired Noir - still a teen in this version - using his theme park as a union point, as special birthday gift for Adeleine.)

(I was kinda fond of this one for reuniting the timelines, but it opened up a lot of questions such as, if Magolor made it so that Noir and Adeleine from two different dimensions can see each other as long as they're both in Magoland, could others from the WH Noir-verse see the main-verse this way? It invited too many questions, so that's why I scrapped that one and just let White-Haired Noir grow up instead.)

[grimmweepers]

the next few weeks for me will be complete write offs

[r0semultiverse]

I’m so serious when I say that I hope that The Umbrella Academy comics have a more satisfactory ending & don’t have as much character assassination. ☂

[12am-motivation]

happy birthday, sol!!

this blog may as well be dead by now but i just wanted to say thank you everyone for giving me the best months of my life ^^

[the-deadlock-south]

we lost the game but i won in looking cracked in front of strangers so did we (i) really lose (yes)

[obwjam]

would anybody like to hear my haikyuu g/t headcanons. is there a market for this

[thetomorrowshow]

a stuffed deer

empires superpowers au masterlist (currently out of date)

this story takes place about one year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, religious trauma, referenced past death, deadnaming/misgendering of a character (but the person isn’t really doing it out of mailce, and said character is dead)

~

The closer they get, the more anxious Scott becomes. His hands grip tighter on the steering wheel, he checks his mirrors more often, he glances over at Jimmy every couple of seconds.

This is fine. This is normal, even. He knows what he’s doing. He’s done far more terrifying things than this. He’s nearly died several times, he’s graduated college, he’s been a superhero for years.

He can face his birth parents.

He’s been talking to Nora about it for several months, and he’s come to the conclusion that he needs closure. Not about himself—he fully understands their feelings for him, and made peace with them long ago. No, he’s here for closure on Xornoth.

In the last minutes before their death, Xornoth had declared themself to be Scott’s sibling. As far as he knows, he’d been an only child. If what Xornoth said was true, that puts Scott in charge of any and all of their possessions currently being held by the city. Not that he wants them, but the mayor had asked him to pursue any leads he found on Xornoth’s next of kin and, even though it had taken him an entire year and a half, he finally feels ready to pursue the only one he’s ever had.

Jimmy’s fiddling with the radio next to him, switching between gospel and country. There’s not much else that comes through out here, and they’re going through a dead zone for their data plan, so Jimmy eventually just turns it off and sits back, not-so-subtly watching Scott. Scott resolutely keeps his eyes on the road.

They pass the exit for Milford. If Jimmy’s feeling all right after the visit, maybe they can stop by there, visit the library and community college and homeless shelter.

Half an hour until Briarsville. Scott shifts in his seat, taps the steering wheel lightly.

“What did you think of that motel breakfast?” Jimmy breaks the silence. “I thought it was decent—waffles are always good, at least. But I wouldn’t have touched those sausages with a ten foot pole.”

Scott had only eaten a slice of toast with some watery coffee, too nervous already to have any faith in his stomach. “Not the worst I’ve ever had,” he offers. Jimmy’s just trying to help him relax. He can humor his attempts.

“Well, yeah. I can remember a time when I would’ve killed for a motel breakfast—literally.” Jimmy chuckles nervously, tugs on his seatbelt. “Um—how much longer?”

“Half an hour,” says Scott too quickly. He checks the radio clock, then his rearview mirror. They’re almost there. His heart is really beginning to jump now.

The car is quiet again until they reach exit 42. Briarsville.

Jimmy straightens up, looks between Scott and the town that they’re pulling into. It looks like any run-of-the-mill midwest town, Scott knows. Even the Order of Heaven private school isn’t much of an indicator of anything abnormal.

“We can turn around, you know,” Jimmy says softly. Of course he’d noticed the nerves. Scott’s knuckles have turned white around the wheel, his back is ramrod straight, he’s barely spoken all morning. Jimmy’s not an idiot, and he’s more observant than most people know.

Scott forces himself to relax. “No. I need to do this.”

Jimmy nods and doesn’t argue him any further. That’s something that Scott will always love about Jimmy: he understands. He sees that this is important for Scott and would never try to keep him from it.

And then he’s turning onto Bloomfield Avenue, and he thinks that maybe Jimmy’s right. Maybe he ought to turn back now and cut his losses.

It’s still his last name printed above the door of the house three houses down. The welcome mat is that ugly, waterlogged brown thing that it had been before he’d left. His parents still live here.

Scott pulls into the driveway, then freezes.

“What if we just went home?” he says, voice pitched an octave higher than normal. “We can stop by the country music museum. Or the Appalachian one, I heard it’s—”

“Scott,” interrupts Jimmy. “Normally I would be fine with that, but you just told me you have to do this.” He takes one of Scott’s hands, runs his thumb over his knuckles. “This is important to you. I don’t want you to be kicking yourself for the rest of your life because you got all the way here only to turn back.”

Scott takes in a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. Then again. Jimmy’s right. Jimmy’s absolutely right. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“And,” Jimmy continues, “if they try to hurt you in any way, I will kill them.”

“You’ve got to stop saying that about everyone we talk to.”

“Hey, I’m just really good at making things look like an accident. Some might even say it’s a superpower.”

“Jimmy.”

“Just saying.”

Scott laughs, kisses his boyfriend on the cheek. He’s ready now. He can go in.

He pulls the key out of the ignition and hops out, then circles round to offer his hand to Jimmy and help him up. Jimmy stops to grab his cane out of the backseat, then gestures encouragingly for Scott to lead the way.

Right. He has to actually go up to the door.

It’s the longest walk of his life, Scott thinks. Even the walk across the stage at graduation hadn’t been this long. But seconds yet seemingly hours later, he’s in front of the door, hand poised to knock.

He swallows, then bites the bullet.

Rat-tat-tat-tat.

It’s only a couple of moments before the door swings open, and his mother is standing before him.

She looks much the same, but changed. Her hair, once grey at the temples, is nearly completely grey with only a few streaks of its former blond. There are a few new lines in her face, only serving to add to the sallowness, the laugh lines he’d once known long-faded. Her hairstyle is the same as ever, her classic Christian mom fashion sense not any different. He takes in all of this, then properly meets her eyes.

“Hello, Mother,” he says, a shiver running up his spine.

She doesn’t say anything at first, eyes passing over Scott to examine Jimmy briefly, sizing him up like a bird of prey. Then she steps aside, pulling the door open wider.

“You’d better come in, hadn’t you,” she says, and the resignation lacing her tone is somehow so much better than the anger he’d expected yet so much worse.

The living room is different. There’s a new couch, pushed up against the wall opposite where it used to be. The easy chair is the same, but also tilted weird and there’s a coffee table for some reason when all it does is take up space. But Scott keeps his complaints to himself and steadies Jimmy as he lowers himself onto the couch, propping his cane up against the coffee table, then sits beside him.

His mother looks at the two of them with something unreadable in her expression, before leaving the room. She returns moments later with two glasses of water.

It’s a test, and Scott doesn’t know if she’s set it up like this or if he set it up for himself, but he takes the water from her hand and sends a little burst of freezing air to chill it, eyes trained on hers the entire time. She doesn’t react.

Jimmy takes his water with a muttered thank you, then she sits down in the easy chair across from them, crossing one leg over the other as she waits for Scott to break the silence.

He takes a sip of his now-cool water (Jimmy passes his own over and Scott forms some of the water into an ice cube before handing it back), takes a deep breath, and speaks.

“Is Dad home? Because—”

“He’s dead,” his mother interrupts. Scott blinks.

Two for two, his mind unhelpfully supplies. 

Is he supposed to mourn an unloved parent? Is he supposed to mourn someone he used to care very deeply about, but proved that they didn’t care for him?

He’s not sure how to feel.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jimmy says beside him. “That must be terrible.”

“How long?” is all Scott can manage.

“Nearly two years, now,” she replies. “Heart attack while at work.” She clicks her tongue. “I was always telling him to lay off the salt, stop working so hard. Guess he suffered the consequences.”

Scott’s really not sure how to feel. The last memory of his birth father he has is of his face closing off, declaring himself to have no son, and banishing Scott from the house. Would he have liked to reconcile? Is parting easier with his last words being unforgivable?

“I’m so sorry, Mrs—”

“Heidi,” his mother corrects Jimmy, and Jimmy amends his words.

“I’m so sorry, Heidi. I can only imagine the pain.”

That’s the first thing to incite emotion in Scott, because Jimmy can’t only imagine that sort of pain. Jimmy’s lived through the death of loved ones without a house to live in afterwards or a community to support him. Jimmy’s had it worse off. Jimmy shouldn’t have to be placating his terrible excuse for a mother.

He must be getting tense, because Jimmy’s hand runs comfortingly along his knee, and Scott can almost feel the love and support that Jimmy imbues the touch with.

Heidi’s eyes follow the movement, and after a moment, she says gruffly, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Right. This could go very badly.

“Mother, this is Jimmy, my boyfriend,” Scott says stiffly, before adding, “as in, romantic partner. We kiss. Each other.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Are you a gay now, then?”

Scott stares her down. “And if I am?” he challenges. “What are you going to do, kick me out again?”

She stares back for a long moment, a moment during which Scott’s certain she is going to kick them out—then she chuckles, shakes her head.

“You always were a bit sassy,” she says. “I ought to have known, really. But that can be said for a lot of things.”

“Speaking of things that ought to have been known. . . .” Jimmy hints, nudging at Scott. Scott nods, takes a deep breath, and forces out the question that’s been on his mind for so long.

“Did I . . . did you have any children before me?”

Heidi looks away suddenly, toward the TV. Her expression gives away absolutely nothing. “I thought that was Noah,” she says eventually. “His voice was already starting to change when he left.”

“Sorry—Noah?”

She looks back at him. “Your brother. He was fourteen when we noticed he was one of them. You were so young, I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”

Right, because it’s such a normal thing to destroy every trace of your child’s existence and raise the other to believe he never had a sibling.

But that means—

“I’ve seen the two of you on the news,” his mother continues. “Your father, too. He regretted what he did, Scott, after he saw how good your heart was.”

“So he just wanted to send me to conversion therapy instead, huh,” Scott mutters. “And that’s so much better.”

Heidi sighs. “We did what we thought we had to do, for both of you. We always hoped you would repent and come back.”

Scott wants to scream. He wants to scream and yell and freeze the entire house, because that may be the most insensitive thing he’s ever heard and his own mother is supposed to love him unconditionally, not act like this!

His hands are shaking. He doesn’t even notice until Jimmy eases the glass from his grip and rubs his arm. He needs to calm down.

But he can’t bear to look at the woman’s face for a moment longer.

“I think we’ll be going,” Scott says icily, moving to stand. Heidi stands as well, taking their glasses, then pauses on her way back to the kitchen.

“We donated your things,” she says, “but not all of it. Do you want any of what’s left?”

And as much as Scott wants to get out of here, he knows he needs to see whatever it is his mother decided to keep. So, after an encouraging squeeze from Jimmy, Scott follows her into the attic.

There’s only two things in the attic—two small trash bags, leaning against a wall to the side. With a nod from Heidi, Scott opens one of them up.

His monogrammed bible is on top. He has no interest in that. His Boy Scout pins and kerchief are here as well, more stuff he doesn’t care about. His birth certificate, which he does set aside (he already has a copy of it that he’d requested from the government, but it can never hurt to have the original), and a small photo album, which he sets aside as well. At the very bottom of the bag is his plush turtle, scruffy and old.

That he pulls to his chest, burying his nose into it. It smells pretty musty, which makes sense. It probably hasn’t been out of this attic in a decade.

It brings back feelings, looking at it. Not memories, not exactly, but feelings of a simpler time. Feelings from some vague past, where he had no troubles and his only concern was getting to school on time.

And more feelings. Feelings of deception, of hate, of guilt. The feeling of his world being flipped upside down and this plushie not being near enough to anchor it.

He wants to set it with his birth certificate and the photos, but it holds so much of this place that he’s not so sure.

He sets the turtle to the side and looks in the other bag.

Much the same stuff, and at first he inexplicably thinks this is an exact replica for some odd reason—but the name monogrammed onto this bible is not his.

Scott weighs it in his hands for a moment, then sets that aside.

There’s no photo album, but the same boy scout items and a birth certificate. There’s a plushie here too, though, a floppy deer, one of the antlers torn off and the hole it left carefully sewn shut. The fur is wearing thin in places, the beads for eyes have lost their shine.

It’s well-loved, as loved as Scott’s turtle, and for some reason, that makes him want to cry.

He’s not sure what to do with it. He still hasn’t really processed what his mother confirmed downstairs.

This stuffed deer belonged to the sibling he never met.

This stuffed deer belonged to Xornoth.

Can he take it?

Does he want to take it?

He sets it aside next to his turtle. At the bottom of the bag, there’s one last thing—a photograph, bent at the corner.

It’s older than any in the photo album, and Scott knows instantly that the child in the photo isn’t him. It’s a small child with a mop of dark blond hair, maybe three years old, wearing little red overalls and a white sweater, sitting on a push-bike and smiling up at the camera.

He can’t quite force his brain to make the connection. This child, so happy and young, grew up to be Xornoth. This toddler tried to take over the world.

He can process it later, he supposes, and he upends one of the bags to make sure there’s nothing else (there isn’t, so few of what once were his possessions leftover), then stuffs both his turtle and the deer in it, along with his birth certificate. He hikes the bag over his shoulder and picks up the photo of—of the child—and the photo album, before holding both out to his mother.

“Do you want any of these?” he asks brusquely. She takes the loose photo, then waves off the album.

“I’ve kept some of yours downstairs,” she says dismissively. “This is my only picture of Noah, though.”

Scott leaves the attic without another word, photo album chucked into the bag over his shoulder. He meets back up with Jimmy in the living room, who looks up from his phone with a questioning glance.

Scott sets down the bag, pulls out the turtle plushie. “This was mine growing up,” he says. Jimmy’s face immediately softens and he coos, reaching out for it. Scott hands it over, then removes the second stuffed animal.

This one he holds farther from Jimmy, because he’s still not sure if he wants to take it with him, despite the strange sense that he owes it to his lost sibling. “This,” he says carefully, “belonged to Xornoth.”

Jimmy’s face goes carefully neutral, and his hands still. “Oh,” he manages, and Scott can hear the change in his exhales as he immediately kicks into breathing exercises.

“We don’t have to take it if you aren’t okay with that,” Scott is quick to reassure. “We can leave it here, that’s fine. I’m sure my mother would appreciate it.”

“Why—why do you want it?”

That’s harder to answer, because Scott hasn’t figured out why yet. He’ll know when he comes across the answer, he’s certain, but it hasn’t made itself known to him in the five minutes that he’s known of his sibling’s existence.

“I don’t know,” he says eventually. He stares at the deer, at the faded pattern of its coat. “There’s some reason I want it, but I’m not sure what that is, yet.”

A little color has already returned to Jimmy’s face, and he doesn’t stutter when he speaks. “Is it part of your closure?”

He doesn’t know how, but Jimmy’s right. He nods. This is, in some way and fashion, a very important part of making peace with his sibling’s identity in his head.

“Then take it,” says Jimmy, handing back the turtle. He stands, slowly, supporting himself with his cane.

But it’ll hurt you, Scott wants to say. It’s clear that Jimmy doesn’t like the idea of taking this deer plushie home, doesn’t like the idea of it being in their house.

“Don’t worry about me, yeah?” Jimmy says, as if he can hear Scott’s thoughts. He smiles weakly, squeezes Scott’s arm. “I’ll be fine. This is about you.”

They leave with a quick goodbye, no attempts on either side to set up further contact. Scott just throws his things into the backseat with Jimmy’s cane, then drives away.

-

It’s just a week later when Scott drives out of the city to a park.

It’s a quiet park, just some trails and benches through the trees, and Scott stops at one of these trees and digs with the shovel he’d brought from home.

He digs alone, in the quiet shade of the trees, a light breeze rustling through them. And when he’s finished the job, a small pile of dirt beside him, he lays a shoebox containing a small stuffed deer in the little hole he’s dug.

He scrapes the dirt back over it with his shovel, pats it down a bit, and stands there. Just . . . stares.

Then, silently, Scott turns away and heads home.

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[darkwater-reservoir]

A World Alone - Lorde

the cliffhanger for tsv season 3 absolutely fuckin destroyed me and I think about it everyday

[paperlovesadness]

🧐🧐🧐

(I absolutely think this is just [unaware?] teasing on his part because it makes zero sense timing-wise with all they have/had going on. But like... I'll still take any shred of hope I can take 🤷🏻‍♀️).

[saintajax]

Coming in to say that im practicing my makeup for tomorrow night and humbly asking for eyeliner tips bc how tf do y’all do this 😭

[fandumbass]

hey

this post isn't very good news, and I'm sorry about that. My condition has been fluctuating in this past week and I fear it's taking a turn down again. On top of that, I've been trying to catch up with medical bills and dealing with the associated paperwork. Behind the scenes, fic editing has slowed down to a near halt because a lot of the fic ended up having to be rewritten last second. We're almost at arc 2 (this first arc isn't very big) and I have very little written for it; that is to say, I would've had to take a hiatus anyway to try building back up a buffer for it.

Since it was going to happen anyway (regardless of it happening now or later) I've decided to take a (hopefully small, god willing) hiatus now instead to focus on my health and the responsibilities I've been putting off, on top of editing the rest of arc 1 and building that buffer back up. I don't know exactly when fic posting will start up again, but I can only express that I don't want to be away for too long. I'll still be around for messages, and I'll try to post status updates as they come in (those will probably become the new weekly/biweekly posts instead of fic posts until I have enough fic to start posting regularly again).

[kinaesthetiqueer]

(follow-up to this)

having grown up in atlas, weiss is very familiar with the academy's team anti-frat policy and gets very hung up on just how much trouble they could get in if anyone thinks they're dating.

(which they're definitely not doing. no, sir. absolutely not, sir.)

so better safe than sorry.

(except winter has eyes. and also doesn't care.)

[dracimexidae]

@woofety >> @dracimexidae

Just in case anyone might have been confused about finding a new username on their dash during these days ����