#they’ve been through so much i am here for them thriving from now on

[delllamortes]

odd eye circle is back. nature is healing

[hkthatgffan]

I still remember it like yesterday. I don’t think anyone forgets the first time they saw it. It’s crazy looking back at how long it’s been. I always assumed I’d be a fan for a few weeks at most…not 6 years and counting. Gravity Falls changed my life in ways I still am discovering. And now, 6 years on from that cold February evening in 2017 when I finally decided to give this 40-episode masterpiece a try, I still find looking back at it all so insane and why I fell for Alex Hirsch’s creation over literally anything else I could’ve.

I think after the show itself and the impact on me which I’ll mention later, the fandom’s full of life mentality and kindness was what got me hooked not even a week into it. I mean, I was a year late, so I didn’t think I was gonna find anyone left. I began on Gravity Falls Amino in 2017 and I don’t think I ever expected to find the GF fandom to be so alive and thriving, despite it at the time being a year on from the finale. I think to this day that’s something I love about it; yeah, it’s not as big as it was at its peak. But it still is alive and well despite it being so long.

I think alongside just how alive the fandom was, it was also just the kindness of fans that kept me going. I afraid when I joined at first and felt intimidated at times. I was the new kid on the block. Were fans going to welcome me in or mock me for being late and gatekeep me out like I was less for not being a fan when it was airing? Well, I think the answer is pretty clear. I’ve been in so many fandoms since and while GF’s isn’t always perfect, the kindness in this fandom on all medians I’ve been on is incredible. Old fans are so supportive and helpful to new fans, new fans with curiosity bring new ideas to the table and help keep the stories alive and more. I see it on this the GF sub whenever a new fan is welcomed in for finishing the show or on other sites when they share art or ideas and more that watching GF gave them. I see it in old fans who return because they’ve been reminded about why they loved this show so much or the continued love from fans who never gave up on GF even when Next Summer became less a possibility and more a tear causing goodbye.

Yeah, we have our ups downs as a fandom, but we all are collectively here because we love this cartoon and what it means to us all. Whether you think the show ended perfectly or not, think Dipcifica is the best ship or Wendip is, think Bill is alive or dead, hate or love Mabel or Ford and more, we all are Gravity Falls fans first and foremost and that is something we all are aligned by.

Gravity Falls also made me love animation again after a year of just being away from the median. I’ve gone on to watch so many other cartoons since it. While I admit I still sometimes find myself trying to see if it can live up to GF, which is of course never the way one should watch another show; by comparing it to another, I do owe GF for my renewed passion. It made me not only love animation, but also find a great deal of respect and admiration for the people who make them. From creators to animators, writers to VA’s, Gravity Falls was a huge reason why I now watch every new cartoon with a greater deal of respect for those who work to make the median so incredible.

There is so much more I could say about Gravity Falls and its impact on me…be it the channel I created through it and video creating skills I learned through working with it, the fanfics, the fanart, the communities I’ve had the chance to be part of cause of it, the good and bad from the people and events I’ve been part of from it, or even the renewed appreciation for those I care most about because I saw so much in me in Dipper and Mabel’s sibling relationship. But the thing is…when I found this show, I was at a low point in my life and at the least hopeful for the future.

I was in a real bad place mentally speaking. Really just questioning where it all went wrong and not being able to find a reason to crack a smile anymore. I was the least optimistic I ever was about the future. And then for some reason, I decided one day, after seeing a video about how it ended well, I’d give this cartoon I barely heard about but knew the existence of, a chance. I mean, what was the worst that could happen? I think everyone has their own story for when it hit them in relation to their reason to love this show. I have to be honest, I think the defining reason for me is now lost to time or buried deep in my memories now…but the combination of just Gravity Falls’ pure fun feeling, mystery and emphasis on fan interaction, as well as nostalgia factor really got me excited. But there was one other reason I fell so hard into the fandom and this show; the reason why it got me good...Escape.

It was almost like an escape from reality. For those first few months, I was nonstop Gravity Falls fandom. I scrolled through Amino on the daily to see what people were posting about it, checked Alex Hirsch’s Twitter to see what was new, checked the GF sub to see what was up and more. It was just wake up, classes, come home and obsess over GF, sleep, repeat. I think it’s taken me a long time to realize that at times, Gravity Falls was my Mabeland; my escape from the troubles of real life and the real world. But while it may have been easy to let this obsession become unhealthy and consume me and yeah, at times I feel it may have, I think in a way, it helped me reignite my motivation for the future and the next chapter ahead.

I think seeing Dipper tell Mabel that the future is not something to be afraid of and that going through it with someone who cares, was something I needed to hear and come to understanding the meaning of. Talking to people and finding ways to overcome it. I always thought I was more like Dipper but truthfully…those eyes of fear and the future Mabel had in Vs the Future were the ones I had in the lead up to this day 6 years ago when I gave episode 1 a watch. It’s ironically why I ended up loving her character more when so many others began to hate her. That fear Mabel had was something I understood. Not knowing if you’ll be okay in the future and who was there for you…Mabel really was my guide into and out of that emotion.

And slowly but surely, life got better and better. I did still have my ups and downs here and there and times where I wondered why I made this turn instead of the other with life (still do), but then, each turn was always gonna lead somewhere and by the end, I found my way out. I think now I am at the most stable and just mentally okay place I’ve been in for years. Gravity Falls wasn’t the reason I found my way out of that dark place…but it did give me the motivation and assurance that I needed to hear in order to do it myself.

I still don’t know what the future holds. Hell, even just last year I questioned if I’d still be here in the fandom to mark 6 years. Life is an up an down roller coaster with bumps that all try to throw you off. If you hold on too lightly, you’ll fly off and be lost, but if too strong, you won’t enjoy it. It’s a case of finding that balance. I had held on too lightly before I found GF. Then for a while I held on too hard as I used it as a means to escape. Being able to find the right grip to be able to take life for a spin but retain control was not easy, but I needed to do it if I ever wanted to see what the future was rather than think what if.

I sometimes get asked why Gravity Falls means so much to me when there’s cartoons out there that can be argued as being better than it. For me, Gravity Falls’ quality as a show isn’t why I love it so much. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been able to allow myself to accept that GF isn’t perfect and see the cracks in it while still loving it instead of blindly believing it’s perfection. Neither is the notoriety I’ve gained from it. Anyone could’ve made the username That GF FAN and done what I did and still do. I’m not some mega fan or any special person. I’m just a guy who was a year late to the party and become obsessed with a cartoon that began 10 years ago, lol. I will forever be grateful for this fandom’s kindness and for giving me a chance and a place within it. And while I am always grateful for that, it’s not the only reason that to me Gravity Falls means so much.

It's the message this show sent; that message about life and never letting the future stop you from living it. To not let the past, dictate your future and to find those around you who will help make the future better. That was more important and of a thing that Gravity Falls gave me than any other cartoon I’ve seen since, no matter its quality gave me and more valuable than any Journal 3 Special Edition or piece of merchandise ever will be. It was the right show at the right time and just did it for me.

There was a high school student one cold February evening 6 years ago, who began watching a cartoon he had no idea about beyond a little background knowledge. And I doubt he ever imagined then that this one show would help him find the passion and reassurance to give life the fullest and find a way out of that dark moment so that looking back now…that time is nothing more than a long faded away scar.

And all thanks to a kid who thinks washing clothes is a waste of time, telling his twin sister who’s better at knitting than I’ll ever be, that there's a better way to get through the future than denial or trying to hide away in fear of it.

So yeah…there’s my corny story, lmao. 6 years ago today, I watched Gravity Falls for the first time…and 6 years on…it’s still one hell of an amazing show and life lesson.

VHULRXVOB, BRX UHDG DOO RI WKDW? RU GLG BRX MXVW VFUROO GRZQ, VHH WKLV FRGH DQG GHFRGH LW, OPDR? HLWKHU ZDB, WKDQN BRX, IHOORZ JUDYLWB IDOOV IDQ :)

[phlurrii]

Yea rewatching these guys they know each other, after Meau has her flashback of dreaming of mewtwo where I assume she's telling them like I'm having dreams and in it I'm seeing a dark room with an orange tube with something inside Noe turns to her and like the expression on their face feels so very "and what are you going to do about it?" as if asking like this is what you're going through what are you going to do about it, and then they fly off together with them twirling around each other and I did notice Noe flies very close to Meau which makes me curious again they know each other they feel familial especially with them moving up to hug hold Meau to comfort her as she I imagine gets a psychic projection of Mewtwo waking up which scared her because oh god, something is out there and it's powerful and it's what the humans have done and it involves my baby so whatever they are they're from my child. So just hm horrors of the genetic tampering and they've made something powerful and they cant control it and that's my grandchild in some way (possible fear of what will happen if Meau has to face off with them because technically her kin but because of the genetic tampering there's that level of two being unrecognisable but she'd be lying if she thought there was no relation that she could deal with them without feeling)

Noe and Meau just hm, I am hm. They /know/ each other lmao I know I keep saying it but words are hard. Part of me is like does the closeness mean something other than friendship and familial but like her and Noe are probably related unless Arceus had maybe intended for them to be two without any relation to help foster the new world he was making kind of like the king and queen of the pride... Hm now I'm thinking did Noe originally exist alongside Meau and was once whole but gave too much of their dna to other Pokemon during the creation of a thriving world, because we saw how shaky and tired Meau was in her depictions before she made her child could be very easy to push oneself too far I mean even Meau had to go nap afterwards, and ended up weakening themselves to a state of instability where they joined with Meau who preserved their remaining dna within themselves to keep them alive, if half alive through her and giving them the power to come alive through shadows but only briefly as their original form unfortunately no longer exists... Sorry got off on a tangent but like! They know each other they are close but we'll find out how!

Also Meau witnessing Mewtwo escape their anger and violence as they burn down the lab, again it's shaking her to the core, she must know she's seeing these projections because they're both strong with their psychic powers but also related bond like how Meau sensed when mew was in danger, could she bring herself to stop them if she had to? Especially when they too have been hurt by humans or will their rage prove to be something she needs to put a stop to even as it tears her apart.

And if they're actually grown cloned from an organ from her child and not just from their ovary eggs ect then wouldn't that make them in a sense a clone and twin to her child? Could she kill the man made sibling? When they are still genetically hers?

I'm falling into the deep end here I'm experiencing and feeling a lot of emotions here Meaus probably going through a lot and Noe making brain go BRR

Enjoy my insane ramblings

I’ve already stated before how much I loved this, but I LOVED this. They’ve basically nailed the entire animatic intentions, give or take a few things ;3c

Thus I think it’ll be a GREAT refresher… Ehe

[theladyragnell]

Ficlet prompt: acofaf, any characters, an accidental meeting in the mortal realm

(I am not entirely sure that by "any characters" you meant "Chirp and Suntar running into each other," but this scene got stuck in my head and here we are!)

Chirp is getting very good at running errands, if she does say so herself. Why, she hasn’t brought back a tisane made of dewdrops and starflowers when Esmé just asked for bread and wine in months, or possibly weeks (she always does get those two mixed up, in the mortal realms, time always does move so strangely, straight ahead with no pauses or skipping). She even remembers to pay with money, most times! She’s practically indistinguishable from a mortal, really, nobody at any of the markets she visits has ever said otherwise.

(It does possibly help that Chirp likes to go to all sorts of markets, because she never knows when one will have some special treat for Peep or Esmé. The last time Squak came to visit they traveled for ages and brought back some very exciting things. Peep does keep asking for that candy again, Chirp had better find a way back soon. Not being able to fly on her own is very inconvenient.)

Today, Chirp is going to be especially good at errands, because she’s going to deal with an interloper. There’s another fairy in the market.

It’s not, of course, the first time. Coming to the mortal realm isn’t exactly a fad, though anything the Lords of the Wing do becomes fashionable very quickly—it takes bravery, to visit the mortal realm when Binx is very honest about what happened to the Court of Craft. Still, Andhera and Binx and the real Gwyndolin and their funny mortal friends have come to tea a time or two, and Squak visits with a lover or two at times, and even Hob and Rue have come by.

This isn’t any of Chirp’s friends. That’s clear from the glare she’s getting from behind the glamour the fairy is wearing. They’ve gone for being an old woman in a threadbare cloak, which is so traditional as to be cliché, but they’re not very good at hiding there’s something odd about them, so the bowl they’ve set up looking for money is empty.

If Chirp has an enemy this close to Peep and Esmé, she wants to know who, and she goes over with a coin and drops it in the bowl. “Here for me? Or just passing through?”

“I’d have avoided this place if I’d known your shadow had ever touched it,” says Princess Suntar. “I’m begging for scraps, which you reduced me to. My beloved betrothed.”

That’s probably fair, though Chirp would contest that she was much nicer than Suntar deserved, under the circumstances. “Is that my fault? Plenty of fairies find their way here and thrive. Those of us who don’t think we’re too good to make friends with mortals, anyway.”

“Friends? With these thieves?” Suntar snorts. It is very unattractive, and Chirp would tell her so, except she suspects if Suntar gets too mad at her there might be some extremely boring swearing of vengeance and then Peep and Esmé might be in danger. Before the silence can stretch, Suntar gives her a keen look. “You didn’t push me. You know I’ve got as little power in our realm as I do here, thanks to my dear brother, but I won’t risk starving or disappearing, there. If you help me to the portal, I’ll owe you a debt.”

A debt from a princess of a powerful court, even a disgraced one, could come in handy. “The kind of debt where I could trust that you wouldn’t turn around and try closing the portal again?” Suntar may have been doing it for power, but she believes in it too, if she’s still calling the mortals thieves. “No. Not yet.”

“If not now, when?”

It’s not Chirp’s place to teach people lessons. That’s always been the Court of Wonder, only giving their miracles to the people they call worthy and apparently scheming all the while to no longer have to do that to maintain their reputation. “That doesn’t seem like my problem.”

“The Lords of the Wing are declining in power. You would have had it. The mortals matter to you so much?”

Chirp laughs. It takes more effort than she’d ever want to admit. “Goodness, rumors do soar, don’t they? Grandfather must have invented those too. I shall have to congratulate him.”

“You don’t deny it.”

“I don’t need to. I’m the one with the power right now, or you wouldn’t be asking me favors.” The bowl inviting coins isn’t, Chirp suspects, wholly for show, though it isn’t money Suntar will be missing most, it’s magic. “I’ll give you one, but not the one you want. I have alliances I care about more than I care about your favors.”

“What favor will you so graciously bestow on me, then, Lady Featherfowl? And what do you ask in return?”

That’s as familiar as bargaining for bread at the market, or maybe bargaining for bread at the market is as familiar as dealing with other archfey. Chirp smiles. “I’m going to give you a little magic. Just a little, mind, I don’t want to have to go back from my visit too early, but dear Andhera would be so disappointed if I allowed you to dwindle into a bundle of rags or a shadow on a lake or something equally lackluster.”

“And in return?” Suntar’s voice is shaking with rage. Chirp does so miss this kind of thing in the mortal realms, Esmé keeps things so quiet. “For your gracious charity?”

She could ask for any number of embarrassing things. She could ask Suntar to write Andhera note of apology, except then Andhera might actually want to speak to her, and then Binx would be mad at Chirp, so that’s an unproductive line of thought. “Stop looking for the portal until this dose of magic runs out. Pay attention to the mortals. They’re funny, but they’re not as different as you’d think. Things are changing in our realm. You’ll get along much better if you understand a few things.”

“So I’ll be no closer to home than I am now. Just a stay of execution.”

Chirp shrugs. “Maybe you’ll find another way to get some magic. Or I’ll see you again. I’m in markets in this region often enough. Do we have a deal?”

Suntar glares at her for a few seconds. “We have a deal,” she finally says.

Much as Chirp loves to make a production of things, Peep and Esmé are waiting at home, and Chirp still has to do the rest of the shopping. She doesn’t draw it out, but gives Suntar a dose of magic, a decent amount of her portion for the day while reserving enough to defend herself from any threats, Suntar included. “There. Enjoy your vacation in the mortal realms, dear. I’ll see you sometime, I’m sure.”

“Sleep with one eye open,” says Suntar, but her shoulders are relaxing and her eyes are already brighter, which in her case means more shadowy.

“Some birds do that, you know!” says Chirp brightly, and wiggles her fingers at Suntar in a wave before she goes off to do the rest of her shopping.

Esmé shakes her head when Chirp turns up with a hair ribbon made of moonlight as well as the cheese and vegetables she requested, but Chirp kisses her and ties Peep’s hair up in a bow and keeps the rest of her adventures to herself.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Florals

One of the best things about the balcony-and-windowsill garden is learning stuff. I learn best by watching and doing, and this is kind of the epitome of watching and doing. So now that I’ve branched out into flowers, here are the things I’ve learned this year:

Marigolds bloom fast and wilt fast. They’re here and gone in just a few days. I’m watching to see what becomes of them after they’ve had their brief riot of orange, beyond ... y’know, wilted petals and the like. But they’re also incredibly prolific and every time I look now, there are new buds.

Asters last a lot longer, and will perk up quite well if they wilt with underwatering. This I’ve learned because it’s been intensely hot lately and I’ve had to do the “smallish amounts of water twice a day” thing with them to keep them from wilting too badly. And even then sometimes they get a little weather-worn. I eventually had to snip the first couple. There are more buds to come, so that’s cool.

Petunias smell wonderful. I’ve never really been close enough to them to notice before, but now that they’re in my study window, I get the smell of petunias pretty much all the time. I don’t know how good it is for my allergies, but the pollen count is through the roof anyway so fuck it.

Zinnias bloom very, very slowly. And they kind of look like aliens mid-bloom. Looking forward to seeing how they go.

I am apparently a better gardener than my mother. When she came out onto my balcony when she came by for dinner a few weeks ago, she saw my wild cornflowers and asked me to tell me how they go because apparently she can’t get them to bloom. Two of my cornflower buds have now opened and they’re beautiful.

While my little essential oil tricks work fairly well against aphids, it can be hard to spray all the leaves on some very tenacious flowers stretching out over the balcony to get as much light as possible. I’m shortish, the balcony wall is fairly high, and reaching out to get them all is hit and miss. Reaching the outstretched leaves to relieve them of aphids is difficult but honestly they don’t seem to be faring so badly despite that. Of course, it might help that I’m being nice to the local spiders. I figure the aphids must be a spider buffet.

I don’t know what’s eating my cayenne pepper plant but it’s not aphids. There’s nothing on the leaves; just really clean holes. Plant seems to be thriving regardless, so I’m hesitant to use any kind of insecticide. It’s getting at some of the beetroot leaves and potato leaves but oddly, not the tomato leaves.

Sage flowers are really pretty.

On the whole, I’m pretty proud of my garden. I’m even prouder of keeping it alive through a pretty miserable amount of heat. I’ll get pictures sometime, when I’ve got more opened blooms.

[s-che]

ANDOR; water/rust, revolution/realpolitik

I’ve been thinking a lot about Andor recently and more specifically how much I love the many, many answers it’s given to the question of “how is this whole rebellion thing going to work.” I’ve been wanting to get (some of) my thoughts down on it for a while, and (worse!) promising it to people and then not delivering, so, here we go—long awaited, slightly belated, twice as long as  it needs to be.

part one: vox dei

Before we get into it, I want to do a brief aside and a wholehearted recommendation: I would not be thinking with Star Wars in the way I am if it wasn’t for the work of the folks at A More Civilized Age over the course of the last two years. Their mode of commentary is a breath of fresh air in an ecosystem of easter eggs and surface-level thought, and everybody who reads this should give them a listen.

More specifically, I want to start with something the folks at AMCA (particularly Rob Zacny) have noted over their Andor coverage: the significance of water, especially flowing and flooding water, as a recurring symbol through Cassian’s journey. Cassian (among other things) is captured by the seaside, bursts a waterline to fry the electric floor, must swim to escape from prison, and hears of his mother’s death by the water—Zacny points out that we can place these events in contrast to the repeated symbols of classic Star Wars movies: the two suns and dry desert of Tatooine, and the broad thesis of leaving home to find adventure (the heroic core of Luke’s story) are substantially different from Andor, with its emphasis on the community-first calls for revolution anywhere, everywhere.

I want to read this conversation with Marva’s eulogy, where she says (among other stuff) that:

“There is a wound that won't heal at the center of the galaxy. There is a darkness reaching like rust into everything around us. We let it grow, and now it's here. It's here and it's not visiting anymore. It wants to stay. The Empire is a disease that thrives in darkness, it is never more alive than when we sleep. It's easy for the dead to tell you to fight, and maybe it's true, maybe fighting is useless. Perhaps it's too late. But I'll tell you this, if I could do it again, I'd wake up early and be fighting those bastards from the start!”

And this part of Nemik’s manifesto:

“Remember this, Freedom is a pure idea. It occurs spontaneously and without instruction. Random acts of insurrection are occurring constantly throughout the galaxy. There are whole armies, battalions that have no idea that they’ve already enlisted in the cause.

Remember that the frontier of the Rebellion is everywhere. And even the smallest act of insurrection pushes our lines forward.”

Flooding water is Cassian’s personal symbol, but it is also a helpful metaphor for the rebellion as Nemik advocates it. In such a spontaneous, irrepressible rebellion, fought on all fronts and by all hands, we are all only drops in a larger sea. Marva, too, calls for us to fight, though fighting may seem useless, and to wake up and  realize that we are powerful—we might even imagine that the “rust” of Imperial control is to be washed away by the water of our forgotten strength. In this sense, water takes on a purifying—almost baptismal—significance: we join in the flood and are swept away, washed clean, and awoken.

The folks at AMCA have rightly pointed out that, through Nemik  and Marva’s respective recorded voices, Andor echoes the thematic resonance—the meaning—of the appearance of force-ghosts, giving us an understanding of the powers of teachers, ancestors, and memories without relying on the metaphysical discoveries of a late stage republican super cop (admittedly one of  the coolest late stage republican super cops). One of the show’s strengths, I think, is its willingness to hold this resonance with prior material without making those connections diegetic. Nemik and Marva are, for all thematic intents and purposes, tapping into the Force—and the story is all the better because they do not do so narratively. More importantly for our discussion, by putting Nemik and Marva in the position traditionally held by Force users, they are given the legitimacy given to the Force. Nemik and Marva are proven right. There are whole battalions who do not yet realize they’ve enlisted in the cause—Cassian is a part of one, awakening to a fight he has always been fighting. He already knows everything he needs to know—he does, and is (more or less) victorious at the end of the season.

But lets talk about Cassian.

part two: ideal reader

Cassian Andor is placed in special relationship to both our thinkers—son and ideal reader—before he has a hand in either the Narkina 5 or Rix Road uprisings. In both these cases, Cassian’s actions directly contribute to the revolt, but it will be someone else who takes the true lead. Throughout season one, in fact, Cassian serves as a kind of an ultimate protagonist—a plot-mover who interacts directly with every major character outside of Coruscant—and makes personal decisions which seem to reflect and anticipate social shifts that he has only an individual’s part in. When Cassian decides to buy-in to the Aldhani heist, the others grow more confident and pull it off. When Cassian decides to rise up on Narkina 5, the other prisoners rise too. When Cassian takes direct, unmitigated action against the Empire and then to commit himself wholeheartedly to the Rebellion, so do the people of Ferrix. This is critically different from Luke killing the Emperor or blowing up the Death Star—there, the hero’s actions trigger change. Throughout Andor’s first season, we see instead a broad portrait of how people come to bring about change in their own lives—Cassian is just one representative sample.

When Cassian first meets Luthen, he is offered a more complicated choice than his mercenary antecedents in Han Solo and Lando Calrissian. Whereas historically the question has been Are you in this for the money, or are you in this for real? (which invites us to imagine a kind of fringe class of apolitical actors—mercenaries, thieves, and bounty hunters—who, though operating outside the law, are nonetheless not actively anti-Imperial, Andor’s first season is about showing us that Cassian was in for real from the moment the Republic landed on Kenari, engaged in what we might understand as political resistance by virtue of his survival alone. Rather than being given the opportunity to decide, Cassian must come to the realization that there is no getting out of this fight, no cutting and running—only standing up and pushing back or laying down and taking the hits. 

This is both Marva and Nemik’s fundamental stance—that we have been sleeping, thinking that they’ll go away, or that everyone is in the war, on one side or another, whether they realize it or not. It is no surprise, then, that Nemik comes to the conclusion that mercenaries, too, have a role to play in the breaking of Imperial control. Mercenaries exist, and, by virtue of their existence, are involved in the ongoing battle for one side or the other.

What does it mean, though, for Nemik to call Cassian his ideal reader? What does Cassian represent to Nemik? For that, we have to come back to water: healing, purifying, rust-removing water. Water is a life-giving substance (a contrast to the desert sands of Tatooine) and water is a purifying substance (to wash away the rust of Imperial control) and water is an overpowering, uncountable, collective substance (which, made from many pieces, becomes something much, much larger than the sum of its parts). Through all that runs, in my reading, a trait:

Water is virile. 

Consider Luke Skywalker, who must try and fail and try and fail and try and fail to become a master of the Force. From early in the first movie he knows what he wants—his journey is one of personal growth to be able to reach it. On the other hand it is remarkable that in a show like Andor, so concerned with how the revolution will take place, that there is little to no conversation over whether or not the revolution could take place. Part of this comes from Nemik’s philosophy—the  revolution will take place and will succeed because it is natural and tyranny is not—but consider also that, throughout the first season, Cassian Andor almost never fails. Once he puts his mind to something (escaping Ferrix, the heist on Aldhani, the prison break, the rescue attempt) Cassian succeeds—not without cost, but to great effect. He can do it—he just has to say he’s going to. He just has to try. 

This is the lesson of Andor, delivered through Nemik and Marva: to try is to succeed, to wake up and fight is to wake up and win. We (Cassian, but also the people like Cassian—the listless oppressed, the undirected proletariat) have all the knowledge we need, all the power we could ever want, all the strength to break our bonds. You just have to do it. Andor season one is the story of getting people to wake up, to see who their enemies are, and to try, and Cassian is a prophet of this kind of awakening. 

(This absolutely rules, incidentally, because it means that the battleground of Andor is not one of ability but of commitment—not can you but will you. In a franchise which has spent decades preaching detachment—because attachment will lead you down the path to fear, anger, hate, suffering, and so on—Andor rightly says that getting your skin in the game is the only way to ever start to win.)

With this in mind, Nemik calling Cassian his perfect reader can be read as a comment on Cassian’s great potential—his great potency—and his lack of formal ideological training. Cassian is, as I said, one representative sample of a group of people who Nemik hopes to win to the cause—the bottled up power of the proletariat, the force which cannot be truly eliminated and so is diluted by the many opiates of the masses (if y’all know me, you know I think religion gets an unfairly high billing in this one—lots of things serve to keep us from exercising our full capability for liberation, from schools and prisons to peezos and revnog). Andor might not be doing explicit mythopoesis in the Joseph Campbell, Hero’s Journey, go fight your psychosexual demons sort of a way that the “Skywalker Saga” did, but I do think there is something mythic in Cassian Andor’s awakening. If we understand him to be a kind of “proletarian protagonist,” standing in for narrative purposes as a token of the untapped power of the people, it is no wonder that so much of this season is made up of people trying to control him.

part three: how we respond

Andor is full of people saying they understand Cassian, from Luthen’s first conversation with him to Skeen’s attempt to get him to cut and run to Marva’s last blessing as conveyed by Brasso. Reading Cassian’s mythic meaning into this, we can see these claims (as well as in the violent attempts to control him: Kleya’s commitment that he must be eliminated, Dedra’s manhunt, the prison on Narkina 5) as an effort to control this font of productive power—economic and political—from which the people cannot be isolated.

This power at the core of both Nemik and Marva’s last speeches, and in the water-symbolism. The power of the people is a wave waiting to be unleashed (how interesting that the heist on Aldhani took place at a dam, how interesting that Cassian liberates the water from Imperial pipes to start the prison riot). Nemik and Marva are confident in the ability of this flood to self-direct—it is just their job to wake it up and give it something like a direction, and then to join in it (take the plunge, try to swim) and see where the water takes them.

Luthen, on the other hand, has a different approach. At his most effective a clever player of a game of chess, Luthen seems to handle his whole network as resources in a project only he (and Kleya) can grasp in entirety. In this model, the power of individual pieces is only permissible so long as that piece can be steered and managed. When it slips from his grasp—cuts and runs after seeing too much, for instance—it must be eliminated. The piece must be destroyed.

I want to make one thing perfectly clear: sometimes Kleya might be right. It may, in fact be, that some operatives—mercenaries of questionable commitment, for instance—must be destroyed before they can pose a security threat. The problem is that these decisions are being unilaterally made by Kleya and Luthen, not by the people on the ground—if you want to read a really good book, this is one of the big themes in China Mieville’s Iron Council, which expresses what I’m trying to say better and more specifically than I’m going to be able to do here.

There is a tyranny to Luthen’s decision making, but also a severe ego. If, as Nemik suggests and the show seems to believe, the revolution is being pushed forward by uncountable hands across uncountable star systems—battalions who don’t yet know they’re in this fight—imagine the self-confidence it takes to believe that you are the one and only individual who, sitting at the core of the spider’s web, can make all the right decisions, all the time. This is the pride of kings and emperors. 

The folks at AMCA have been joking about Luthen being a Jedi for a while, now—ironically enough, Luthen is making the same mistake as Yoda, believing that if he has no true investments, if he is really untouchable, he can see clearly enough to make all the right calls and play the game to completion. This Jedi realpolitik contributes directly to the Sith takeover, as they refuse to play the game messily and do what’s right—take a stand against chattel slavery, for  instance—constrained by an aloofness that they believe will save them. It is also the same call made by the Empire, who milk their subjects for productive value (in prisons or scrapyards or Coruscant office-blocks; in cells or relay stations or as a mole in the ISB), and then, when they are no longer productive, to eliminate them. I don’t want to get too much into thinking about Rogue One until we’ve seen the rest of Andor, but—this criticism will, to some degree, also become true of Cassian Andor. 

This approach might be helpful in some places and times, but it will never bring about the final victory of the rebellion. It can’t commit in that way. Luthen Rael calls himself a coward. He’s right. There comes a moment when you have to buy all the way in.

The scary part about all of this is that Nemik is wrong. Maybe not in the universe of Star Wars, with the Force moving things behind the scenes—but it must be said, out loud, that there is no reason Cassian should have ended up making the right call, or that the power of the people of Ferrix will necessarily become unshackled. The people can just as easily be bridled and controlled, transformed into a force for economic production or—worse—a gun, a Syril or a Dedra, pointed and fired by the Imperial system. This is the risk of  Luthen’s approach—he is turning people into guns and saying that he knows that he’ll aim right. This was the downfall of the Republic—they made a gun and then handed it to Palpatine. 

This is the benefit of Marva and Nemik’s approach, even if we disagree with their belief that the universe is on their side. They call for full buy-in, right now, right here, and damn the consequences—for teaching people how to point and fire themselves, rather than forging them into a gun which can be aimed from afar. This is a chaotic view of liberation—undirected, uncontrollable, necessarily coalitional—but it is the shift from order (in space, thought, control) to chaos which  marks the two most substantial uprisings in Andor: the jailbreak and Rix Road. In both cases the lines of behavior (the riot cop captain calls “Placement” to have his soldiers deploy shields as the crowd surges forward: he might as well have said “On program”) are broken, the people seize control, and what will rise in their place is not entirely clear. It is not that these movements are entirely without structure—One way out and Wake up early are incredibly powerful political directives—but neither are they motivated by a centralized hand (Luthen, critically, flees from Rix Road). It is in these moments of chaos, rather, that not only is the nose of the Empire bloodied but the power of the people is given room to stretch, breathe, and test it’s strength. 

We haven’t reached any kind of revolutionary utopia (and I have no doubt we’ll see repercussions for Rix Road next season—but then, the Empire was already cracking down, that’s how empires work). Still, Andor is clear: You cannot win a war without risking yourself completely, over and over  again. This frightens Luthen. It should. It is exactly the commitment he shies away from every time—the moment, to use Andor’s language, when the one way out is to swim. I’m interested to see how Luthen reckons with the need, sooner or later, to go all in, and how Cassian comes to hold the position he will in the Rebellion. So far he has been one drop in the bucket—but he will become the fulcrum, to, I think, his own detriment.

[coal15]

I started writing Ch.6 of All Roads Lead Back this morning. I was going to wait a few days before posting a teaser, but I'm too FUCKING GIDDY about it. So here. May I present to you the beginning of chapter 6 . . . . .

To be erased from the Book of Life. One’s very existence obliterated not only from the future or present, but past as well. This is the threat that holds many a curious Angel captive in silence, all watching their peers hard at work to fulfil whatever role the Almighty has tasked them with. Those thousands upon thousands of Angels seem so full of faith in Heaven’s ultimate goodness, but . . . are they all? Or are there others with questions, even doubts, boiling just beneath a placid surface? The fear of total oblivion holds most in silence, unaware of how many other Angels working alongside them also carry the burden of dangerous questions in secret.

All victims of a silent con. 

A Great Lie masquerading as a Great Plan enjoying the advantage of captive loyalty, thriving and unthreatened by serious challenge. The doomed few who do speak up are easily squashed. Either re-programed in the Corrections Department or never released from its confines.  

So long as Heaven’s ranks remain obedient, whether by true faith or by fear of oblivion, the Metatron’s seat of power as the true voice of God is secure. 

Muriel sits in their quarters enjoying a rare day off. They try to relax but they simply can’t. Not when the righteousness of a Heaven they so adore has been corrupted. They sit at their desk and do what a Scrivener does best. They write. Dangerously. 

A list of questions.

Can the Book of Life really obliterate someone from existence?

If they are erased from existence how would we ever know it happened since we wouldn’t remember them?

Why does God only speak through the Metatron?

Didn’t she used to speak directly to Angels?

Why did she stop?

When Satan was Lucifer the Morningstar, which of his questions caused his fall from grace?

Was it just asking in the first place?

Was the flood really necessary?

Does God make mistakes or have regrets?

Where is the Corrections Department and why are the Angels who work there sequestered from the rest of us? 

Why did God choose Aziraphale to replace Gabriel?

Why has she forgiven Crowley and allowed him to remain in Heaven?

As they write, an idea forms. This list can be used as a weapon, or rather prop, in a bold campaign of espionage. Bold or stupid? They wonder. But then a conversation they had with Crowley several months back comes to mind, as well as several possibly relevant details from all the books they’ve been reading. I am more than one thing, they remind themselves, and I know LOADS of useful stuff!

Resolved to present their strategy to Aziraphal at once, they roll up the list, tuck it in their breast pocket, cover their eyes, and think his name.

“I’VE GOT MY EYES COVERED!” They announce.

“Much appreciated, Muriel,” Aziraphale’s gentle voice assures. “But quite unnecessary this time.” 

Muriel opens their eyes to see Crowley sprawled out on a couch flipping through a book of photography and Aziraphale in a rocking chair working on a project. “You’ve taken up knitting?”

“Yes. Having to constantly lie and manipulate other Angels all the time takes its toll, and I find knitting soothes me.”

Crowley looks over the top of his book at Muriel. “I own twelve scarves and two pairs of mittens now.”

“Oh shut up!” 

“There’s no weather up here!” 

“Well I don’t plan on being up here forever so-”

Muriel clears their throat to break up the couple’s amusing back-and-forth. “I . . . well, um . . .” they fish into their pocket to retrieve the list. “I have an idea. Maybe even, I mean, it might be, possibly . . . a plan.”

*************Go HERE to read the first 5 chapters

[tomyfuturelover]

B.

12.23.2022

It’s been 7 months since you woke up and didn’t love me anymore, and honestly I’m still trying to figure out how to live with that.

I hope you’re doing better, sweet girl. I hope moving to cincy and living with people who love you endlessly helped. I hope starting school again brought the light back into your eyes. I hope you feel connected to the world in some way again. I hope time has loosened grief’s grip on your mind. I hope you got a beautiful new tattoo to honor C. I hope your laughter sound full and genuine again. I hope you’re thriving under teachers who actually teach you things. I hope you like your job down there much better than the one here. I hope you feel safe.

I hope you think about us. I hope you meant it when you told me you’d never wish we hadn’t met. I hope you remember what we had before your world fell apart. I hope those memories bring you a little happiness. I hope you don’t hate me, I feel like you probably hate me most days. I hope you realize I was trying my fucking best, I hope you realize I love you enough to have put the research in and that it just gave me the wrong advice. I hope me being there and trying to help during the funeral and month after did actually help. I hope it matters to you that I was there. I hope you remember me and those memories matter to you, I’m so afraid you don’t or they don’t. I hope you can see how hard I tried and not just all the times what I was trying wasn’t what you needed from me. I hope you are not still sitting there sobbing over what we lost, I also hope you are. I want you to be happy but I also want you to miss me as much as I miss you.

I still sleep with your picture near my bed. I still have that candle from our first date on my shelf. I still have the book you gave me on my nightstand. I still use the body wash and soap you gave me, I’ve bought more because I can’t stand to stop using them. I’m wearing the shirt you loved me in right now and I think about that every time I put it on. I still listen to the songs and the playlist. I still look over for you in my passenger seat and it’s not even the same car I had then. I still have a watermelon lemonade and peach tea in my fridge because I can’t drink them or throw them out, and it’s not even the same fridge. They’ve lost the pieces but I can’t throw away the puzzle I gave them the first day you met them. I can’t finish that show we watched on our second or third date. I’ve cried at the mall because we walked through those places together. I’ve cried at the grocery store because you share a name with a damn cheese.

I swear I can still feel you next to me some nights. I still have nightmares that you’re the one we’re having a funeral for. I cried at my grandpa’s funeral but only because more people said nice things about that vile man than stood up and said good things about C. I panic when I see people walking on the side of the road. I’ve never not looked for you when I heard someone say your name in public. I think about where they keep the cream cheese every time I’m in the grocery store. I once walked by a man who smelled like cigarette smoke and my whole body relaxed instantly, I didn’t even realize I’d been stressed. I forced myself to go on a date and cried the whole hour drive home because she wasn’t you.

I am still living the life we’d planned on. I’m still watching the boys grow up, I wish you could see how big they are now. I know you’d be so proud of how good W is doing. R still asks for you sometimes and says peekaboo the way E did in that video. I am still waiting for Christmas morning and thinking about how much you would’ve loved watching our boys be so happy. I started cos school because of how much I loved hearing you talk about it and how interesting I thought it was. Every time I’m proud of how something turned out, I think of how you’d be proud of me for it. I look at the full time class that started just a month after you did, and I wonder what things you’re doing over there.

I have tried to convince myself to leave you behind, to accept that our forever is gone. And I just can’t. The words and songs are still about you. I cannot look at the world or my life or my own skin without seeing your fingerprints in all of it. I don’t remember who I was before you painted all my nights a color I have searched for since. I cannot untangle you from me and I cannot pry you out of each of my cells.

I have not felt safe or peaceful or truly alive or genuinely wanted since you’ve been gone. My therapist calls it grief but I call it hopelessness. I know you woke up one day and just didn’t love me anymore but I wake up every day and remember that you don’t all over again. I know you left me behind but all I feel is that you took all of me with you when you went away. Most days I believe in you someday magically meeting me again falling back in love with me the way a 13 year old believes in Santa, because if the fantasy is gone, all I have left is what is in front of me. I don’t know how to want to stay for what’s in front of me. But I know how to live for the hallucination of you.

It is Christmas and I wish more than anything it wasn’t because the only thing I want is you and the only thing I’m sure I’ll never have is you. I cannot look at the trees and the gifts and the stockings without seeing where you should be. I’d have arranged the stockings to spell out BREW just because I’d have thought it was funnier that way. I’d have loved to watch you roll your eyes at how much I loved it.

This goes without saying, but I wish you were here. I wish things were different. I wish you wished it too.

[solesurvivorjen]

Where I have been...

Hello, for those of you who have continued to support me during my long awaited absence. Thank you, I appreciate you waiting for me patiently. Even if some of you aren’t on here anymore. 

I know I said about a year or so ago I would make a post about why I’ve been away. Well to simply put it my partner, Eric died of cancer at the beginning of 2021. If most of you had read my posts back in the day he had brain cancer for a very long time. He had it off and on since 2009. It has taken me so long to grieve him and to try and pick up the pieces. 

My life has changed so much since he’s passed. I’ve had a lot of up’s and downs. I had people abuse and use me for pity points. I’ve also had people support me and helped me get back up. I’ve met people who have listened to my story and I consider them very close and hold them dear. 

I’ve had a lot of people that I once considered friends leave me due to some lies and differences they’ve had with me. However they do not matter anymore. Those who have stayed by my side and supported me. They are the ones who matter. Without them I don’t think I would have healed as much as I have. My heart is still very much shattered but with time and lots of love it is healing and thriving. 

As for the comic I have thought it over for a long time. I have been in the works of redoing the comic all together and revamping it into digital form. I’ve also been drawing quite a bit. Mostly Loki stuff as of late. Loki and MCU have been my current obsession and he still gets me through a lot of the heartache. Hell, even my cat is named after him. I still play fallout from time to time. I played fallout new vegas but didn’t get all the way through. As of now I’m just trying to find a copy of it and maybe I’ll hook in the ole 360 so I can play it. 

Just know that every post I make, everything I do from here on out will be for myself. I am my own inspiration now. I am inspired by those closest to me but I am the one that will keep my torch lit. Eric will always be memorialized here as he is the one that got me into Fallout and he is the one that encouraged me to write my stories of my sole survivor and Hancock. He helped with so much of my comic and helped inspire me to create some of the stories I had in the making. I have some written down that he pitched to me and I hope I can share them all with you one day. 

Soon I will post some art I’ve made over the years. Again thank you for your patience and always sticking by me. I will keep moving forward. Forever.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hello! I don't know if you're still doing asks, but I was wondering if you had any disabled Stiles fics? Blind, deaf, paralyzed etc? If not thats okay but if so thank you so much!

AND

Hey! I just finished reading Cornerstone and Windows on ao3 and I was wondering if you knew of any other blind fics? It doesn't have to be Stiles being blind. I'm just curious. Thank you! I get all my favorite fics from you!

Here you go, Stiles with a disability.

Windows by dr_girlfriend

(28/28 I 83,017 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek has a new neighbor who won't stop looking.

Excerpt:

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

Cornerstone by Vendelin

(6/6 I 83,738 I Explicit I Sterek)

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

***

Darkness Before Dawn by lanoirpapillon

(1/1 I 856 I Teen I Sterek)

"Due to the actions of the Alpha pack, Stiles goes blind. After the threat is gone, Stiles has to learn to live without his sight, and maybe Derek would make the perfect seeing-eye wolf."

Nothing is Over by CinnamonLily

(1/1 I 2,083 I General I Steter)

Stiles had the perfect life, until his mate died. Again. It's been nine months, and he's not doing well. In fact, he resents everyone else's happiness and has become a hermit on autopilot. Somehow, he's forgotten that Peter never stays dead.

I See You Better by theroguesgambit

(1/1 I 4,686 I Teen I Sterek)

He dreams, sometimes, of his last moments of seeing.

At the church in Mexico, Stiles is blinded by a Berserker. Derek uses his new wolf status to act as a guide dog, while Stiles adjusts to his new reality.

Clueless by HappyJuicyfruit

(1/1 I 4,748 I General I No Pairing)

After everything they’ve been through together, all Derek wants is for his pack to be connected with strong, thriving, pack bonds. And for the most part, its working. The pack is growing, healing, happy.

He just needs to figure out why Stiles hates him so much.

My reflection is not who I am but who I must hide by RainbowDuck

(1/1 I 5,235 I Not Rated I No Pairing)

The first 11 years of Stiles (no one will ever know my real name) Stilinski's life were more of less textbook. The next 3 were hell and if it could go wrong, it did. Stiles and her dad Noah move to Beacon Hills for a new start and it ends up being the worst and the best thing.

In Your Footsteps (I Will Walk) by cywscross

(1/1 I 8,873 I Teen I Steter)

It takes him months, but Stiles gave him a destination, gave him direction, gave him hope, and so he goes.

T: Tremors by brokenes

(1/1 I 9,477 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek tried not to think of hospitals and blood and hearts no longer beating and his legs, leaving it all behind, knowing that Stiles' no longer could. It took him seven years to stop leaving.

Wild Tonic by officerstilinskihale

(1/1 I 11,010 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles nodded and smiled again, his teeth flashing brightly and he signed something again, before looking frustrated with himself.

“You’re welcome,” Derek told him, feeling a wave of relief when Stiles’ face brightened. That would’ve been awkward if Stiles hadn’t been trying to say thank you.

“I had a really good time, so yeah. I’m glad you came with me,” he said, feeling his face grow hot. Derek wasn’t usually like this. He wasn’t confident. Sure, he had the looks and he could flirt shamelessly when he got hit on, but he always got shy around the people he genuinely liked, not that there was too many of those.

But Stiles didn’t let him dwell on that. He gripped Derek's arm, grinned cheekily and pointed at himself before lifting two fingers. It took a while for Derek to get it but when he did, he couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face.

Me too.

Show Your Teeth, Yellow With Desire by ItsMe_Basil

(1/1 I 22,883 I Explicit I Steter)

The man looked up when Stiles stepped into the room, eyes appraisingly taking Stiles in from head to toe before smirking.

"Hello, sweetheart."

Stiles felt his heart jump into his mouth, his breath hitching in his throat. The orderly hadn't stayed long, leaving the two of them alone.

"Peter." He breathed. "You're real."

where the Double Walker dwells by forestofbabel

(10/10 I 38,164 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek looked like he always did, perfectly groomed and a little gruff. Though, as Stiles glanced at him, Derek’s face was lax with surprise.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, sounding flummoxed.

“Dude, I know it’s been a while, but don’t be so surprised I’m hung over in the woods. It’s practically tradition at this point.”

Derek sniffed the air, eyeing him with distrust. “But, you can’t… I just…” he trailed it off like a question, taking a half step forward before pulling out his phone and dialing a number, eyes never leaving Stiles.

Complications by idareu2bme

(15/15 I 42,523 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek hadn’t meant to involve Stiles in all this --Stiles who was warm and pliable in his sleep, whose warm, brown eyes reflected light they would never again see, who had a smile brighter than the sun, and who could see Derek when others never did.

At least the Road to Hell is paved, I'm not good with Stairways by lady emebalia (emebalia)

(80/80 I 170,037 I Explicit I Sterek)

When Derek signs up on a BDSM dating site, he expects things to be straight forward. Turns out the road ahead has more unexpected turns than he thought. But at least Stiles comes well equipped for twists and turns.

Caretakers by em2mb

(14/15 I 277,924 I Teen I Sterek)

Now Lydia sees the white room clearly, Stiles sitting cross-legged on the nemeton in his lacrosse jersey, squinting at a chessboard.

That’s when Lydia realizes her vantage point makes her Stiles’ opponent — and she has him in check.

Her instinct is to push her own king into danger, but Stiles grabs her wrist. “Come on, Lydia,” he says dryly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Chess might not be your game, but surely you know that’s against the rules.”

Lydia tries to squirm away from him. “But you’ll die,” she insists, his grip tightening so much she’s certain his long fingers will leave bruises.

“Say it, Lydia,” Stiles urges. “Checkmate. Checkmate. Checkmate — ”

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The God of Magic just wants humanity to be happy and thriving;

Version 1, Good!Merlin

INTRO

(Version 2, Dark!Merlin)

~

“You’re late.”

From their place in the bushes, the gang can see a wide grin break out on the woman’s face as she raises an eyebrow:

“You’re always getting distracted by pretty flowers or interesting conversations, how was I supposed to know that you’d be on time for once?”

Her voice somehow sounds like an ocean in a storm, ear-splittingly loud as the sound cuts right through them to the core, but also a gentle stream, soft and clear and soul-cleansing. The gang struggle not to flinch in their confusion.

Merlin chuckles slightly, shaking his head as he softly replies:

“Ah, I see, you were expecting me to be late, so you told me to turn up half a candle-mark before you intended to get here.”

She raises an eyebrow and nods:

“In the hopes I wouldn’t have to stand around and wait too long,-”

She shudders slightly as her face falls, though she manages to look beautifully intimidating even with a slight scowl on her face:

“-you know how much I hate it up here, on dry land.”

Merlin nods. He looks around him passingly, and the gang tense as his eyes rove over their hiding place; their fear is quickly replaced with shock (and even more confusion) as it strikes them that they’ve never seen Merlin look so relaxed, so at ease. He finally looks back to the woman:

“Hmm. I may not agree with you on that, but I understand. I could have met you at Avalon, you know.”

The woman frowns even more, and the gang can see Merlin tilt his head in question, even more so when she replies:

“I... wanted this conversation to be private, away from the prying eyes and ears of Mother and our Siblings.”

Merlin’s shoulders tense, and Arthur can vaguely see the outline of his hands clenching tightly in his pockets as his cloak billows in a sudden wind. The knights, Gwen, and Morgana all look to each other in confusion, Merlin had never spoken of siblings before, in fact, they’re fairly certain he specifically told them that he’s an only child. This woman was so drastically different from Merlin in appearance, they couldn’t possibly be related by blood. Perhaps she means "siblings" in a similar sense to how the knights are brothers?

A tense silence passes between the two, but it’s quickly broken by Merlin letting out a deep, bone-weary sigh, his relaxed demeanour completely dissolved, and looking to the floor, mumbling:

“What’s this about, Ava?”

The woman, Ava, the gang now know, lets out a sigh of her own, tilting her head and waiting for Merlin to look at her again before speaking, her voice sounding more consistently soft the more she spoke, as if she needed practice to regulate her volume:

“I think you know, Em.-”

(”Em?? I guess that could be a shortened version of ‘Merlin’, but... not really.”)

“-Time is running out, existence is threadbare as it is, and only getting worse with each passing day. The world is splitting, cracking down the middle; magic is running thin-”

Everyone feels Arthur tense at the mention of magic, even more so at Merlin’s non-reaction to the word. Though everyone is already understandably on edge by the way the woman speaks as if the world is ending around them, and they hadn’t even noticed:

“-and we are starving. The fates of The Bane-”

Mordred manages to stop himself falling backwards, but his sudden shaky breath earns him a concerned glance from Gwaine, crouched besides him:

“-and The Darkness have been avoided, if you do not move forward now, then when? With every day you stall, you plan, you stand idly by and wait, we choke on the gaping emptiness of a world that is leaking.-”

Merlin holds up a shaking hand to stop her, his other running through his hair in frustration as he murmurs:

“I know, I know-”

The gang watches with tense, morbid curiosity as Ava cuts him off, her expression both annoyed and sympathetic:

“I don’t think you do, Em. You haven’t been home in years. Could you stand it? To be God of Magic with no Magic to be God over? No universe to hold dominion over?”

Merlin scoffs slightly and walks to the side in his frustration, and the gang can see the melancholy annoyance on his face, plain as day. It’s almost enough to make them forget that he visited Ealdor just last month. It’s definitely not enough to distract them from the fact that she had called Merlin a God. The God of Magic, of all things. What the fuck??:

“I don’t hold dominion over anything I just... am.”

Ava rolls her eyes:

“That’s not the point and you know it. Mother sent you to fix the problem, to stop the purge, to encourage the Once and Future King to bring magic back and start the Golden Age. He has been King for years, but you still act as a servant. You are a God, Em, assert yourself. You could fix the world with a click of your fingers, but you wait for the humans to do it for you.-”

Merlin interrupts her slightly impassioned speech with a deep huff and a shake of the head. From where he now stands, the gang have a healthy view of his side profile, and they can see the emotions warring on his face: frustration, grief, desperation:

“That isn’t... that’s not what I’m doing-”

She rolls her eyes again and the gang are vaguely aware of a distant crack of thunder as she gestures sharply with her hands:

“That is what you’re doing. You’ve become too attached to these... mortals.-”

She steps towards him, cradling his cheek in a soft, elegant hand as her face morphs to one of complete and utter sorrow:

“-You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak, Brother. Human lifespans, the lifespan of your precious Golden King, are but a blink of an eye compared to ours; they will all wither and die and fade from you, and you will be left with your grief forever.-”

Her other hand lifts to settle comfortingly on his shoulder, and the gang can see a single tear slip from Merlin’s lowered eyes:

“-Do what you came here to do, and come home, to Avalon, we miss you, Em, the family needs you back.”

Merlin stills for a few moments at her desperate plea, but then steps back, shrugging her hands off gently and wiping the tear from his face:

“No. I... I’m doing this properly. Mother understands my fondness for humanity, that’s why she sent me, and I’m going to do it properly.”

Ava huffs out a gentle laugh at his determined expression, shaking her head slightly in fond disbelief:

“How can you love them? These... humans, when they slaughter your creations, when they don’t even know what you are?”

Merlin smiles softly, his eyes gazing into the trees as he quietly responds, his voice full of enough adoration to take the gang's breath away, to temper the twinge of fear and betrayal that had been swelling in Arthur’s lungs:

"I love them because they don't know what I am. It's nice, to be human; to walk among them, being loved and hated and respected and touched as if I were not more than they could ever possibly comprehend. Humanity is... made of juxtapositions. Their existence is contradiction upon contradiction, weaved together and held with emotions so large I can scarcely understand how they're contained in such little bodies. I've been alive and watching them for millennia, lived side-by-side with them for almost three decades, and they still surprise me. To walk among them, to see them come to terms with this universe that We made for them, to see how desperately they crave knowledge, exploration, experience... it's beautiful. The way they love so fully, the way they find meaning and importance in every grain of sand, every ray of sun, every tuft of fur on every creature, it's humbling. It's astounding."

Ava has a soft smile on her face, looking as if she could listen to her Brother ramble about his love for humanity for decades. She shakes her head slightly, letting out a gentle sigh as she asks:

"Then why won't you save them? The Gods will starve without magic, but humanity will starve without the Gods."

Merlin pauses for a moment, his face scrunched in concentration as he tries to think of the right way to verbalize his thoughts. 

The gang stare on in unconcealed bafflement; the realisation that Merlin is some kind of God brings less fear or anger than they think it should. Maybe it’s the shock, or maybe it’s the reverent way he speaks about them. Either way, they stay still and silent in their hiding place, and eventually Merlin’s face settles back into a soft smile as he looks to his Sister:

"I wish to see them save themselves, not because We need them to, but because they want to. Because their desperation to explore this universe will one day outweigh their misguided hatred of magic.-"

He nods decisively, repeating in a confident voice:

"-I wish to see them save themselves."

Ava sighs once more, stepping toward Merlin and putting her hand back on his shoulder:

“Your wishes may soon become... irrelevant. We’re dying, Emrys,-”

Arthur struggles to hold in a gasp at that. Emrys. He knows that name. Apparently it’s the name of a God, and not just some secret sorcerer who took a fancy to Camelot and deemed himself it’s protector. Lancelot’s eyes widen, though he manages to hide his shock well; no one else is focused on anyone else’s reactions, all internally freaking out. 

Mordred is pale and breathing shallowly, being the only one in the group who had already known the full truth. Percival looks to be in shock, he grew up with the stories of Emrys, but to learn that Emrys was a God? That Merlin was said God? Not what he was expecting out of this little trip. Gwaine, Gwen, Morgana, and Elyan look worried, seeming to have pushed aside their shock in favour of being concerned over Merlin’s safety and sorrow. Leon stares upon the scene with scholarly-looking curiosity, hiding his apprehension and shock well. Arthur’s expression is... unreadable. Ironically, the only person capable of knowing what he was thinking just from looking at him was currently having an incredibly terrifying conversation with someone who is also presumably some kind of God(dess). 

“-time is running out. I know that you don’t want to, but... it might be best to tell them the truth. You adore your humans because of their ability to love, do you not think they love you enough to forgive you your deceptions?”

Merlin clenches his jaw, and it’s the anguish on his face, paired with his almost-whispered words, that breaks their hearts:

“I... no. Just because I love them does not mean they love me back. I’m just a servant, Ava, I’ll never be important enough to be forgiven, God or not; I’ve lied to them for over ten years.”

She sighs, letting a tear of her own fall as she quietly responds:

“Emrys, you undervalue your worth, they don’t-”

“No. I don’t. You’re right, I have one life-time with them, with... with Arthur, and then I’ll lose them, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity grieving. I refuse to taint the already short time I have with them by having to watch them grow to hate me. I refuse.”

Merlin frowns as Ava rolls her eyes fondly, a victorious smirk on her face:

“If you would let me finish. They don’t hate you now, despite learning what they have just learnt, and you have yet to tell them of all you’ve done for them. Their love for you will only grow, Brother.”

Merlin tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. The gang take in a collective gasp at the realisation that she knows. And has likely known the whole time.

“What are you talking about?”

Ava’s smirk just grows, and she looks to the bushes the gang is hiding in, seeming to make direct eye-contact with a panicking Arthur as she speaks, he voice echoing unnaturally through the clearing:

“You can come out now.”

At her words, Merlin’s head whips around to stare at where she was looking. He opens his mind, allows his magic to stretch around him, and his skull is immediately full to burst with echoes of Mordred’s earlier, and ongoing, warnings, as well as the overwhelming presence of The (former) Darkness, The Once and Future King, and the others. He takes a stumbled step back, hand covering his mouth and tears spilling from his eyes as he becomes more and more convinced of... well... his time being tainted.

The gang stand and shuffle out of the bushes slowly, eyes trained on the floor and hands clasped in front of them tightly. It’s Merlin’s quiet, cracking “No...” that has them look up, paling at the absolute heartbreak on his face.

Lancelot and Gwaine give him weak, though genuine smiles, holding their hands out placatingly, but they halt their movements forward when Merlin just copies them pace for pace, moving away from them.

No one notices Ava rolling her eyes, not until she steps behind Merlin and puts a halting hand on his shoulder, stopping him from moving further away.

Merlin whips his head around, and another loud clap of thunder sounds out, much closer than the other one, quickly followed by a sudden downpour of frigid rain. The gang look to the sky in confusion, and Mordred desperately tries to reach Merlin through the mental link, offering comfort and reassurance; Merlin doesn’t seem to notice, the rain falling harder and harder as he almost fall to his knees, speaking in a desperate voice to his sister:

“Why... why would you... you know what this means. Why... why would you do this?! Ava?”

She rolls her eyes again, seeming to glow effervescently under the rivers of rainwater running down her face and over her clothes. She forces Merlin to turn and look at the gang, holding her hands on his shoulders to stop him from backing away (or collapsing in his grief) :

“Look at them, Em. Do they look angry to you? You should have some faith in the humans you claim to love so much. Look at them.”

Everyone in the gang gives Merlin varying levels of strained smiles; though Merlin, in his panic, is unable to tell that the strain is from concern and guilt, thinking that it was instead from hatred. He falls to his knees, his eyes shut tight enough to give him a headache and his hands clamped over his mouth in an effort to hold the sobs in.

Gwen and Morgana are the first to rush forwards, not paying the slightest bit of attention to Merlin’s... sister or the knights as they collapse to the floor in front of their friend, not sure whether to keep their distance or try to comfort the distraught man... God.

It’s his next choked sob that urges them to move once again, and the girls pull Merlin into a hug, tears of their own gathering at his agony. He freezes at first, then tries to pull away as lightening streaks across the sky, the violent bursts in sync with his choked breaths. When Gwen strokes a soft hand through his knotted hair, and Morgana pulls him further into her lap, muttering “We’re not leaving you, Merls, not ever, we love you.”, he relaxes slightly.

The thunder and lightening cease, but the rain still pours as Arthur stares over the pile of crying bodies to the woman, whose eyes seem to be growing brighter and brighter in the deluge. She stares right back at him, and The King jumps slightly when her voice echoes through her head, despite her still face:

“My brother has lost enough, please do not shatter his heart.”

Arthur nods once, before following Lancelot’s lead to the others, the rest of the knights not far behind them as Ava disappears. Whether she walked away without noticing or simply faded into the rain, no one knows, but no one really cares either. Soon enough, everyone is gathered around Merlin, stroking his back softly and whispering comforting promises over the sound of the rain. When Leon is the only one to notice Mordred’s eyes flash golden as he summons a shield above them, he simply shrugs his shoulders and refocuses his attention on muttering reassurances in Merlin’s head.

His breathing slows after a while, as does the rain, though everyone panics slightly when they see Morgana frown as she strokes the hair away from his face, revealing flushed cheeks and closed eyes. Mordred’s eyes flash golden once more as he presses a hand to his forehead, though no one lets the shock distract them for too long, latching on to his relieved tone:

“He’s just asleep, that would’ve taken a lot out of him. We should get him back to Gaius.”

The knights all stand, stretching and cracking joints to try and rid themselves of the cold stiffness that had settled in their soaked bones. Morgana stays on the floor, clutching at Merlin in her lap desperately, like he could slip away at any moment. When Arthur leans down to pick him up, she shoots him a glare, her own eyes glowing as the wind picks up once more, whipping through the clearing in an obvious warning. Arthur takes in a gasp, but shakes the surprise from his mind as he settles a soft hand on his sister’s shoulder:

“I... look, we’ll talk about this later, and I promise you’re going to be safe,-”

He glances up to an equally defensive looking Mordred:

“-all three of you, but Mordred’s right, we need to get him home and warmed up.”

Morgana hesitates for only a second, but the concern (and love) in her brother’s eyes sway her, and she nods, ever-so-carefully pulling her arms from around Merlin and helping Arthur get the younger (or... much much older) man situated in his arms before standing up.

~

The trek back to the castle is a fairly short one now they don’t have to worry about being quiet, and the rain has almost completely stopped by the time they make it to the citadel gates. It’s late, so the only people they come across are the occasional guard. But The King resolutely ignoring them as he carries his unconscious manservant through the corridors, his closest friends and advisors around him either openly crying or blinking away tears... well... it’s something that very much screams “DO NOT DISTURB US DO NOT SPEAK OF THIS IMMEDIATELY FORGET EVERYTHING YOU HAVE JUST SEEN”.

Elyan runs ahead to wake Gaius and warn him, so by the time everyone gets to the Physician’s chambers the fire is roaring, a patient pallet has been moved in front of the hearth, and Gaius himself is bustling around, preparing various concoctions and tinctures and blankets.

Merlin’s still shivering form is laid on the pallet, and Morgana shamelessly uses her magic to pull the heat closer and dry out his clothes. Mordred sits protectively close to the servant, one hand subconsciously close to his sword, the other resting on Merlin’s shoulder. Gwen settles between him an Morgana, and the knights figure that with her complete non-reaction to the magic... she probably already knew, she was smart like that. Gaius finally makes his way to Merlin’s side, tipping a gross smelling potion down his throat and running a hand through his hair, frowning worriedly down at his ward. 

Not a single word had been said since they entered through the castle gates, and Arthur is the first to break the silence, sitting on Merlin’s other side, opposite Morgana, and settling an almost accusing expression on his sister:

“You knew, didn’t you?”

She looks up at him, somehow appearing powerful and intimidating despite being soaked through and shivering:

“I knew he was... powerful, I didn’t know he was a God.”

Gaius’ head whips around quickly, and Arthur is surprised at the questioning horror on his face:

“A God?? There must be some mistake, Merlin is powerful yes but he’s not-”

Mordred’s quiet voice interrupts him, though he doesn’t look away from the unconscious man as his fingers twitch over so slightly closer to the hilt of his sword:

“I knew. Though if I’d known he felt so... if I’d known how he felt, I would have spoken to him about it sooner, I apologise.”

Everyone looks at the group’s youngest member in shock, almost speechless, but Gwaine stutters slightly before clearing his throat and trying again:

“So... that was real, Merlin is a fucking God.”

Mordred nods absent-mindedly, eyes flashing golden as he presses his hand to Merlin’s forehead once again, frowning. Arthur’s brow creases in concern and he leans closer to Merlin:

“What is it? Is he ok??”

Before Mordred can reply, Leon speaks up, his voice tired, but strong:

“If he’s some... powerful God, then why is he hurt in the first place? Shouldn’t he be able to resist any sort of injury or sickness??”

Mordred shakes his head, finally looking away from Merlin to gaze at the group surrounding him. He looks doubtful at first, but when he sees the genuine concern on everyone’s faces, especially from Gaius and Arthur, he sighs and speaks softly:

“It’s difficult to describe. Merlin could access the full range of his power and do anything, if he wanted, but it’s draining and complicated when stuck in a human body. He himself is a God, yes, but this form is still vulnerable and mortal; he can get injured, and sick, he can die, or at least the body can. Merlin tends to repair this body when that happens, instead of moving on. He... likes it here.”

Everyone nods, understanding at least a little, though Gaius and Lancelot look the most shell-shocked. The room goes silent once again, and Percival, sat on the floor against the end of Merlin’s pallet with Elyan and Gwaine, is the first to speak, his voice shaking and sorrowful:

“He really thinks so low of himself. He’s a God... and he was terrified of the thought of us hating him, as if such a thing were even possible.”

Gwaine curses under his breath and Leon restarts his slow pacing around the room before he stops suddenly, turning to face the others with a look of anger on his face:

“Well of course he thinks it’s bloody possible. He’s right, we treat him like a fucking servant even though he’s one of our dearest friends, and half of us talk about the evils of sorcery on a near constant basis. He’s the God of Magic, of course he’d think we would hate him.”

Everyone is taken aback at Leon’s rage, though no one can deny that what he’s said is true. Leon is... quietly protective of everyone in the group, and it’s a time like this that reminds all of them that he had known Merlin just as long as Arthur had, and definitely held a certain brotherly affection for the younger (uh... yeah, whatever) man.

The older knight sags slightly, seemingly realising how exhausted he is, and pulls a chair up next to Arthur before collapsing in it, head in his hands. Arthur pats him on the back a few times before looking back to Merlin’s now thankfully not-shivering form, taking in a deep breath and nodding his head decisively:

“Well, we’ll just have to show him that it isn’t possible. I... we need to show him that he’s... important to us. Loved.”

Morgana just raises her eyebrow at The King, but doesn’t say anything as Gaius mutters a tearful “My poor boy.” under his breath. Elyan stands from his place on the floor, moving to perch on a bench behind his sister and setting a comforting hand on her shoulder as he softly speaks:

“He needs to know that we want him to stay here, with us.”

Percival shakes his head slightly, looking conflicted:

“Wouldn’t that be... cruel? That woman... Ava, was right. We’ll all grow old and die and he’s a God, he’ll live forever and he’ll grieve. Isn’t asking him to stay selfish?”

No one has an answer, and the room grows silent, everyone stewing in their own tense thoughts, trying to weigh the pros and cons, trying to measure exactly how selfish they were willing to be when it came to Merlin.

~

The sun rising over the horizon and peaking through the uncovered windows is what wakes everyone (bar Merlin) from their fitful sleeps. All of them had been plagued with odd dreams and nightmares through the night, so despite their exhaustion, they were grateful to be awake.

No one said anything though, waking one by one and pacing briefly around the room in an attempt to cure themselves of the aches gained from falling asleep in such awkward positions.

It’s still incredibly early in the morning, so thankfully none of them are needed for at least two more candle marks, but it’s Lancelot who breaks the silence first, clearing his throat and looking down at his best friend:

“It wouldn’t be selfish.”

Arthur looks up to him, noting the bags under everyone’s eyes and the tear tracks no one had bothered to wipe away:

“What are you talking about?”

The knight runs a hand through his hair, sniffling slightly and taking a deep breath before he stares around the room, making sure everyone was awake and paying attention as he spoke:

“For us to tell him we want him to stay, it wouldn’t be selfish. You heard him, he loves it here, he’s desperate to stay, he loves us. He still has at least thirty years worth of memories to make with us, and yeah, maybe that’s not a lot in the grand scheme of the immortal life of a God, but it’s more than the ten he’s already got. We can’t take that away from him. He... he wants to be here. Telling him to leave just to alleviate our own guilt... that would be selfish.”

Everyone looks a little doubtful, bar Mordred, and it’s him that Arthur turns to:

“Mordred? You knew... what he is, which we are still definitely going to have a conversation about by the way, what do you think?”

Mordred sighs, biting his lip for a moment before finally ripping his gaze from Merlin’s still unconscious, but now healthier looking body:

“He is more than any of us will ever be able to comprehend. You still see him as just Merlin, he is, but he’s also much more; he is Emrys, the saviour, the God, the Guiding Light. He is magic itself, woven into the fabric of the universe. He inhabits every space, and no space at the same time, he exists in every grain of sand, every drop of ocean, every speck of sky. To... to assume that he is not capable of deciding what he wants is an act of unforgivable hubris. If he stays, who are you to demand he leave and name yourselves selfish, when he has not deemed it so?”

Arthur pales slightly at Mordred’s words, as does everyone else. Gwaine seems to be taking it in his stride, and Lancelot seems less surprised than Arthur thinks he should (definitely something to question, but not right now), but before anyone can say anything, Merlin twitches, a low groan escaping his throat as his brows crease.

Everyone moves quickly, gathering around his bedside in a huddle. Morgana, Mordred, and Gwen are grateful to still be sat in their seats, and if they weren’t so busy worriedly leaning over Merlin they would be rolling their eyes at the way the others were pushing and shoving to be at the front. Gaius elbows his way to be stood by Merlin’s head, a cold compress in one hand and a grey looking potion in the other.

Morgana strokes a hand through Merlin’s hair and the frown on his face eases; he blinks his eyes open, swallowing before grimacing at the taste in his mouth and groaning again. Gwen leans over his head, smiling as she settles a hand on his warm cheek:

“Morning sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

Merlin just groans again, rubbing his shaking hands harshly into his eyes as he says, his voice dry and painful-sounding:

“Ugh. Like Arthur’s aim got miraculously better.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and flushes slightly, but before he can defend himself Merlin bolts upright, taking in a deep, ragged breath, eyes wide. Mordred focuses a concentrated expression on the side of Merlin’s head, but Arthur ignores it as he reaches forward, settling a hand on the dark-haired man’s shoulder and muttering his name:

“Merlin?”

Merlin’s breathing only gets deeper as he whips his head around to stare at Arthur. The blonde tries to smile comfortingly at him, but Merlin barely seems to notice as he scrambles back on the bed, only stopping when he comes into contact with Leon behind him.

Mordred’s face morphs into a concerned frown at Merlin’s terror, and now his tears, so instead of waiting for the man to calm down enough to let them explain, he rushes forward, grabbing the back of Merlin’s head and forcing their foreheads together before he can pull away. He shuts his eyes tightly, muttering some sort of incantation under his breath. Merlin gasps loudly and Mordred groans, holding their heads together for a few moments before collapsing back into his seat, clamping his hands over his eyes as if trying to press a headache away. Merlin slumps back against the warm body behind him, and Leon just about manages to catch him in strong arms before he falls to the floor.

This had all happened in the space of a few moments, and when the two of them still, the others unfreeze. Arthur turns on Mordred:

“What did you do?? What was that?!”

Mordred groans again, looking up blearily, first at Merlin, who seems to be in a similar state to him, leant against Leon, and then to Arthur:

“He wasn’t calming down, so I shared my memories. From when we met at the edge of the forest yesterday, to just before he woke up. It’ll take him a little longer than me to sort through them.”

Arthur nods and Morgana looks impressed, and everyone looks to Merlin again, waiting for him to pull the hands from his eyes and talk to them, look at them, anything.

He finally seems to relax his muscles and Leon rubs his hands up and down his arms softly; despite the fact that he’d been warmed by the fire, the knight was still oddly worried about Merlin being too cold. He lets out a deep breath, lowering his shaking hands as he slowly raises his teary gaze, staring at Arthur:

“You... you want me to stay?”

Arthur ignores the tears dripping down his cheeks as nods desperately, forcing a soft smile on his face as he sniffles:

“Yes. Please. We don’t want you to go, we don’t hate you.”

Merlin launches himself at Arthur and the only thing stopping The King from falling back from Merlin’s surprising weight is Percival’s hand on his back. Arthur wraps his arms tightly around Merlin’s middles, turning his head to press a kiss to the other man’s temple as he tries to get his tears under control; he completely ignores the others in favour of muttering into Merlin’s hair:

“It’s alright, Merlin. You stay here, with us, as long as you want. We... I, love you. Stay, please.”

Merlin just sobs harder, gripping the back of Arthur’s tunic as he kneels on the bed, his response stuttering and barely understandable:

“But- but I’m-”

Arthur just hushes him, stroking a hand through his hair and giving everyone else in the room pointed looks. They all crowd around Merlin again, placing comforting hands on his back and shoulders and arms and hands. Mordred whispers his adoration in Merlin’s head, and Morgana presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, all in the hopes of convincing him that the memories he had were true.

His breathing finally calms, and Arthur shuffles to the side so he can sit down next to him, not daring to remove the arms from around his neck or push him away. Merlin pulls away himself when Arthur settles, but doesn’t move far, and there’s no space between them as he hastily wipes the tears from his face, staring at him lap, cheeks flushed. Arthur takes his hand slowly in his, but Merlin still doesn’t look up, so Morgana kneels in front of him, placing her hand on his knee softly and saying with a teasing smirk on her face:

“You know, if I’d known that my teacher was The God of Magic, I might’ve complained less at the studying you make me do.”

Merlin finally looks up at her, a weak smile on his face, and Morgana winks at him. It’s Gwaine who tries next, settling on Merlin’s other side and sighing loudly:

“Forget the God thing do you know how many pranks we could’ve pulled if you’d told me you had magic?? Can’t believe you’d take that opportunity from me, all of you.”

He gives Mordred and Morgana jokingly offended glares and they roll their eyes, though their attention is quickly drawn back to Merlin, whose hands are clenching tightly in his lap. The room goes dark all of a sudden, and a glance to the window would tell them that the clear morning was suddenly overcast, thunder rumbling in the distance as rain slammed against the glass. Arthur squeezes Merlin’s hand and quickly, though gently, shoves Morgana out of the way, kneeling in front of Merlin and lifting his chin with his free hand:

“It’s fine, Merlin. We’ve all got a ton of questions but everything’s going to be alright, I swear. In fact, I’m glad we found out, it was cruel of us to make you live in a kingdom where you aren’t accepted, but that changes now, I promise.”

Merlin stands suddenly and walks between them, taking a deep breath before turning suddenly a scowl on his face:

“It wasn’t her choice to make, it was mine, and she took it from me.-”

With every harsh the thunder grew closer and the glass in the window frame shook more violently:

“-I was going to tell you after you changed your mind about magic because it had to come from the heart. You can’t change the Kingdom just for my sake! I wanted to do it properly and she took that from me because she was bored!”

Everyone rushes to say something in an effort to calm him down, both for the safety of the windows and his happiness, but Arthur’s blunt-

“Why?”

-stops them in their tracks. Merlin looks to him sharply, though Arthur is grateful for the thunder quietening down as he replies:

“What do you mean why? Why what?”

Arthur huffs out a gentle laugh, shaking his head in disbelief:

“Why can’t I change the Kingdom for you? You’re important, you’ve touched so many lives in so many wonderous ways; that in itself tells me that magic isn’t evil, so why can’t I change the Kingdom for you?”

The thunder stops and the rain slows to a gentle patter as Merlin tilts his head, his scowl of anger morphing into a sad, confused frown as he responds in a small voice:

“But... I’m just a servant. You’re not doing it out of fear, so I’m still just... nobody important.”

Arthur just laughs again, walking towards Merlin and settling soft hands on his shoulders, grateful to feel the others close to his back:

“You have never once been just a servant, Merlin. Something tells me you’ve been saving my life, and this Kingdom, since the day we met, so even if it had no effect on anyone else whatsoever, I would still change the law. Because you are a good man, and you are important, and you deserve it. Compared to you, it is us, who are just human.-”

Merlin frowns again and Arthur rolls his eyes to stop him arguing:

“-Just... give me another hug, and accept it. You idiot.”

He can feel someone (probably Morgana) thump him on the back, but he doesn’t turn around, eagerly returning Merlin’s hug when the brunette wraps his arms around Arthur’s middle tightly. The King presses closer, uncaring of what his audience thinks of him for the first time in his life (probably because he has a feeling that they’ve known of his... affections, longer than even he has) and  mutters his question into Merlin’s ear:

“We... I love you, Merlin, more than anything. Will you stay with me?”

The King is vaguely aware of his First Knight whispering “I told you so, idiot.” behind him, but all he cares about is the sensation of the God, more ancient and powerful than anything he could ever comprehend, nodding into is neck.

THE END!!

I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope y’all like it!!

Link to the Dark!Merlin version (I warn you, it’s hella angsty) is at the top!! :)

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (Teaser)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au (Kind of), roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 844

Warnings: swearing

Notes: A brand new story:) This is a totally different vibe so I am really nervous to post this…it starts off somewhat serious and a bit creepy but the story turns quite fluffy! Anyway, let me know what you guys think!:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung and you share a look before walking through to the kitchen and living room. You approach the rooms slowly and carefully, afraid of what you might find. What surprises could be lurking? Suddenly the white glow of the TV can be seen, making you jump with its sudden brightness. Why the hell did the TV just turn on? Is this like, a haunted house? Are you being fucking haunted? Okay, maybe that’s dramatic.

The screen is bright white with nothing else on it. You turn to face Taehyung who is already staring at you with brows pinched together in confusion. Same Taehyung, same. The two of you decide to walk closer to the TV when dark, bold numbers appear.

“10….9…8…..”

The sound of soft music can be heard playing from the TV, similar to the music that’s played in an elevator, as numbers counting down from 10 begins. You feel your insides twist and turn.

“….7….6…..”

Panicked, the two of you inch closer and closer. You two stand here waiting for something, anything to occur because these might be the longest 10 seconds of your life. The millions of questions you have only multiplying. With the seconds counting down and getting closer to zero, your breathing about fucking stops. What is going to happen? You can feel your palms grow sweaty as your heart beats out of your chest. It feels like the countdown to the end of the world.

“….5….4….3…”

You don’t think Taehyung realizes just how close he is to you, his shoulders bumping into yours. You guess fear does funny things even between strangers.

“….2…..1…….”

And then it finally happens. The timer finally reaches fucking zero. And it is safe to say your attention has been caught…anyone’s would be if a screen greets them with their god damn names.

“Welcome Kim Taehyung and Y/N Y/LN”

Your names on the screen has you automatically feeling nauseas. What sort of sick game is this? Is someone setting you up? Pranking you? If so, shits not funny. But also, why is Taehyung here? Your eyes focus on the screen as it moves to the next slide.

“It is a great honor that you two have made it this far. You have been carefully selected in this company’s project. After a lot of consideration and impressive results—we have decided to move you to the next phase.”

Naturally, very naturally you become even more confused than you fucking started. What projects? What company? You can hear Taehyung swallow hard, his nerves spiking with each word he reads. Then the slides continue.

“To put it simply, we are in the business of love.”

Huh? Huh?

Taehyung and you break your focus on the screen to steal a glance at one another very briefly before turning your heads back to the TV. What the hell they mean love? What is this absolute nonsense?

“Our use of science, technology and logic has got us here today. We test and heavily observe our chosen subjects and decide if they are the perfect match. We then move them to the final phase: The Island. This is where the two subjects meet and get along for the first time. The place they will undoubtedly fall in love.”

You can’t help that your mouth falls open, you are sure your eyes are bulging out of your head. You dare to turn to look at Taehyung and he isn’t looking much better.

Before you can really gather any thoughts the slides continue.

“Our success rate is 99%. You WILL fall in love here, it is most probable. Other subjects will come to fall in love quickly, other will take their time. BUT don’t take too long~ If two subjects are taking too long to make progress we will send a ‘Request’ to move things along and if you fail to meet said request there will be a penalty. And you have 24 hours to complete the request. This is to help you.”

You shiver while reading the words before you. You are now too anxious to even look at Taehyung right now…you don’t want to even see his reaction to all of this. Is he anxious like you? Is he laughing because there’s no way this is real? Is he nodding along taking notes because he believes it? You don’t want to fucking know!

“We give soulmates the opportunity to meet and thrive. This particular project has been in the works for well over a year.”

You blink lazily at that. Well over a year? WELL OVER A YEAR? They’ve been watching you for over a year?!

“We have carefully observed each one of you in great detail. There is nothing we don’t know. We have matched you two to be most compatible.”

Nothing they don’t know? What the hell does that mean? How exactly did they fucking observe you two? You stand here with eyes wide open and mouth agape. Taehyung mirrors your expression. He doesn’t want to believe this either.

“And you two are finally ready to proceed with The Island.”

[lemony-snickers]

hello 🥺 may i know how long does it take for you to write a piece that is lets say 5k or more? i just think its so impressive bc i feel like i have to sell my soul to write smth more than 3k even 😭 you make it look so easy!

hello my dear.

i will be honest, this very much depends on the project. sometimes i can write 12,000 words in a couple of hours and sometimes it takes me weeks to get 2k down onto paper. some ideas flow more freely than others, which is an unfortunate fact of any creative endeavor, i think.

if you’re referring specifically to the obito fic i posted today, i can tell you about 2/3 of this was written today and the beginning (as well as a few end lines) were written one day last week.

BUT

i waited weeks & weeks to get the idea together in my head. i don’t outline any of my writing (with the exception of the donation fics i’ve been doing, so folks who request them can approve the idea first). generally, my process consists of really thinking through the concept in my mind, almost like i’m watching a movie, until it’s clear enough for me to write down.

now, i know you didn’t ask for advice specifically, but i am a loudmouth know-it-all, so i will give you a little anyway.

first of all: try not to worry. some stories only need 3,000 words. brevity does not mean you’re doing a poor job by any means. i’ve read some stories that are 1.5k and less that have been far more impactful than anything i’ve ever put to paper.

secondly: do practice. i was talking with someone on discord today who mentioned how the same scene they’d written a few years ago that would have probably been 2k would now likely be double that in length. in large part, this is because they’ve developed their own style and strengthened their voice; they know how to describe things the way they really want to to paint a more vibrant & complete picture. but that takes time. i don’t know how long you’ve been writing, but there’s no end to improving one’s voice.

lastly: write about stuff you love. like, obviously i’m being sort of a jackass here because i primarily thrive on requests, but i find the projects that really flow & do end up longer are the ones i’m most passionate about because i have the clearest idea of the story i want to tell. i’d wager any project you’re really excited about will end up longer than something you have to slog through because you’re not that interested in it. so don’t force yourself; i know talking about “inspiration” is a pretty laughable thing to do on an anime smut blog, but from the larger perspective of just writing in general, there’s a lot of truth to the fact that without inspiration, trying to get your ideas down—no matter how much technical prowess you may possess—is going to feel like dragging your knuckles over sandpaper. and ultimately, that’s probably not worth it unless someone is paying you a whole lot of money to do it.

hope this helps, anon. (and sorry if it doesn’t, lol.) just keep writing! the right project will take you on a journey, i promise. eventually, just like your ol’ pal lemony, you won’t be able to shut up about it. <3

[kitsu-katsu]

Why c!Wilbur blowing stuff up for shits and giggles as a child makes no sense for his character (and why that would reflect a lot more badly on c!Phil anyways if that were the case):

Warning: c!Phil critical ahead, if you don't like that, skip this post

Now, to those of you that decide to read this: Strap in folks! We've got a lot of ground to cover this from and a ton of quotes ahead!

1) Wilbur’s a pacifist through and through. He always preached words over weapons, only fought when attacked first, wanted to ignore a war until it went away, considered giving up his nation many times, etc. A few examples of quotes to show this thinking:

“Basically, we have such a lower opportunity here that we probably just need to accept the conditions of surrender, just so we can save any more bloodshed, any more destruction on our land. They’ve entrapped our land, they’ve set up bombs on our land, they’ve destroyed all our homes. To stop any more bloodshed, I feel I would be a bad general if I didn’t look for conditions of surrender.” - (Wilbur’s The Revolution is Coming: 30:32, 2nd Aug)

“Tommy, we need you alive. Tommy, this isn’t worth it. Tommy, your life is worth more than the revolution.” - (Wilbur’s The Revolution is Coming: 34:57:, 2nd Aug)

“What has made you do everything you’ve done up to this point?” (Quackity)

“That’s a- That’s a big question. Um. I guess it’s just protection for my people. I mean, I- I- I just want to see them thrive, and I want to see them safe.” (Alivebur)

- (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:03:02, 12th Apr)

“Look, do you know how long and how much blood was shed to get L’Manberg to the point it was at? You know what would happen if we manage to get L’Manberg back again? More blood would be shed, and we would be the illegitimate rulers of a nation.” - (Wilbur’s video Am I the Villain?: 18:52)

“We don’t win wars with battles and with armour. We win wars with our words, Tommy. We’re starting a revolution, not a war.” - (Wilbur’s The Wall: 4:54, 29th July)

“I’m not a fighter, I’m a writer.” - (Wilbur’s The Wall: 1:48:31, 29th July)

“Fighting is not necessary right now, Tommy.” - (Wilbur’s the election results: 43:42, 22nd Sep)

“Tommy, control yourself. Tommy, control yourself, it’s not worth it. Tommy, do not take your shot! He disrespected me, yes! But we’ve talked about this, Tommy…!” - (Wilbur’s techno and wilbur make cave better: 59:36, 23rd Sep)

2) The reason his thoughts about blowing it all up in Pogtopia even hit as hard, the reason all his allies were so shocked about him going through with it IS his pacifism first mindset (which has only been put second when he’s been attacked first and put in the defensive or in the case of his speech to Quackity after the political debate he genuinely thought, by the previous failure of his philosophy and the war trauma spurred on mainly by the FCR and Eret’s betrayal, that the only way to truly win respect and make a change in the world was through fighting and killing, which he was convinced of but was ultimately always too soft to actually go through with (note how he doesn’t kill anyone in the L’manburg explosion and how in the times during Pogtopia in which he declared he wanted people dead, he got second thoughts, regrets, retracted his statement or protected people with his actions):

“If you want to really help people, you’re gonna need power, Quackity. You can make a movement, you can make a resistance, right, you can go out and you can come back, and they’ll give you a ticker tape parade. They’ll cheer for you in the streets, but you will change nothing.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:05:42, 12th Apr)

“If you have a revolution, everyone will hate you, you will sacrifice everything, and you will lose everything you’ve ever had, but you’ll come back and everything will be changed.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:05:59, 12th Apr)

“And power isn’t gaining from diplomacy, and bureaucracy, and giant courthouses suspended in the sky, blah blah blah. It’s gained from swords, Quackity. It’s gained from blades, it’s gained from steel, iron.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:06:19, 12th Apr)

“We blow up the entire fucking place to kingdom come. I want no survivors. God help whoever’s caught in the fucking crossfire.” - (Wilbur’s video, Am I The Villain?: 17:52)

“And, I know you’re scared, Tommy, I understand you’re scared. And it’s scary, it’s scary, Tommy, but do you know what? You know what? In a time like this, when a man has nothing to lose, do you know what that means? It means we can do what we want. We have a man on our side who literally rigged our nation with TNT. We can do the same to them. We can rig this festival with TNT. We can kill them all, Tommy. ” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:15:52, 8th Oct)

“Anyone caught in the crossfire is caught in the crossfire. That’s how it goes, you know? - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:41:22, 8th Oct)

“Chat, do I wanna- Chat, do I wanna, do I wanna do it? I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Chat, I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Do I wanna kill these people? Seeing that they’re my friends.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 34:09, 16th Oct)

“Tommy, I’m getting second thoughts. These are my friends, I don’t- Do I- I don’t know if I wanna [inaudible].” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 36:17, 16th Oct)

“Just, if you’re gonna kill anyone else, kill me. Don’t kill anyone else here.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:10:53, 16th Oct)

“You sounded like you were gonna murder another person. You sounded like you were gonna go for Niki.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:12:34, 16th Oct)

“Oh, yes, sorry, Niki, you missed that part. I was gonna blow up Manberg, I was gonna completely destroy it in a huge fireball. Look, Niki, come to Pogtopia, you’re safer here. You’re not gonna be hurt by anyone.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:17:59, 16th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I don’t, I don’t, I don’t want to kill you two. I don’t want you two to die.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:53, 17th Oct)

3) He was inspired by Dream blowing up L’manburg first with Eret’s betrayal during the first revolution. He knew Dream wanted L’manburg out of the picture and had tried it before. It’s why he knew to immediately ask him for TNT, because either way, Dream would benefit from both side’s mutually assured destruction:

“Here’s the plan, right, Dream. Dream is on our side, Dream has TNT, Dream has everything, right. I say we talk to Dream, and we ask him very nicely, very kindly, ‘Dream, give us all the TNT you have’. ” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:12:22, 8th Oct)

“Remember, how he rigged L’Manberg, like ages ago, during the War? And then he detonated the TNT and destroyed the entire thing? We do that again, everyone, we blow up the entire fucking place to kingdom come.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:12:36, 8th Oct)

“The only reason that Dream is working with us, is because of the fact that we are the enemies of his enemies! That’s it! That’s all that joins this!” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:14:35, 8th Oct)

“Dream, let me be your vassal. Dream, I understand you have a lot of TNT, a lot of the ol’ trinitrotoluene in your possession, don’t you? You do! Dream, I want to be your vassal, I want to set this up, I want to rig the city.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:33:27, 8th Oct)

4) Wilbur hesitated a LOT with the detonation, wanted to be stopped, told people his plan in detail and was overall in a deep internal conflict about the whole thing (and didn’t blow it up once to not kill Tommy and Quackity too, this is also the moment in which his suicidal tendencies are the most clear in his lines before the 16th). Ultimately he decided to do it because he was suicidal and deeply suffering from mental health issues, believed himself to be the root of all bad in the server and by extension, L’manburg was too, and by that point his original view for L’manburg had been so twisted by Schlatt anyway that in his POV it’d only be used to hurt more people anyway:

“I- Look, rigging L’Manberg is not gonna help us get it back, I’m aware of that. But sometimes in order to feel comfortable and safe you have to be ready to give up the things that you’re worried you might lose. And in this case, I think I might lose it already.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:17:57, 8th Oct)

“I know there’s a lot of people, Tommy! … I’m not telling you where the button is, man. … Tommy, it’s over that hill, it’s over that hill, right there!” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 28:30, 16th Oct)

“Chat, do I wanna- Chat, do I wanna, do I wanna do it? I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Chat, I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Do I wanna kill these people? Seeing that they’re my friends.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 34:09, 16th Oct)

“Tommy, I’m getting second thoughts. These are my friends, I don’t- Do I- I don’t know if I wanna [inaudible].” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 36:17, 16th Oct)

“But this is the opportunity- this is the opportunity. If I don’t blow it up now, when am I gonna blow it up?! When am I gonna blow it up, Tommy? But when do- when do we do-” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 36:30, 16th Oct)

“If I don’t do it now, what happens if this is the only chance I get. Everyone’s in this close situation, I can do some proper damage. Look, this isn’t a- He needs a consequence for his actions, Schlatt does, he can’t just keep being handsome and powerful and strong all the time. He needs, he needs to be put down a peg.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 37:07, 16th Oct)

“I can still call off this whole detonating at the end of the speech, dude. I can call it off.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 38:24, 16th Oct)

“Should I show you where the TNT’s laced? ‘Cause in a, in a last ditch effort, we may need to destroy it by hand, okay? So, under the chair, where Schlatt sits, there’s about twenty pieces, right? And then going under, under the main area here, following this red line, there is TNT all the way, and then it jut- and then it- … It darts up here, and over to the dance floor, but it doesn’t touch the water.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 38:29, 16th Oct)

“I have to light it, I’ve got to light it, I’ve got to light it.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:08:17, 16th Oct)

“Yesterday I had the perfect opportunity to blow everything up and finally end it, you know. I had the perfect opportunity to finally blow up everything and end it and just completely save everyone, right, from the tyranny of Schlatt and the tyranny of the existence of Manberg and L’Manberg, right.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 25:17, 17th Oct)

“Explain it to me! Give me a reason! Give me a reason!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:50, 17th Oct)

“Who else is it gonna hurt?! It’s gonna hurt Schlatt, Manberg, and-” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:55, 17th Oct)

“Why did I bring- I should have just done it. I’m such a fucking showman. I should have just done it.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:18, 17th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I just- I just want to f… I just wanna end it, I wanna end it. I wanna press that button, man.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:08, 17th Oct)

“I don’t, I don’t, I don’t want to kill you two. I don’t want you two to die.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:53, 17th Oct)

“Ohh, fuck you! Fuck you, man! Why do you make it so hard?! I should have just- I’m such a fucking showman.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 29:29, 17th Oct)

“Tommy, we’ve tried my ideas. I’m willing to listen to you. I’m gonna follow you, Tommy. Whatever you think is gonna be the best way of taking down Schlatt, we’ll do it. We’ve tried my ideas.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 32:01, 17th Oct)

“My L’Manberg. My L’Manberg. As long- As long as I know the button is here… as long as I know. As long as I know the button is here. It’s just not today. I just need to know that it’s there for a fall-back. I need to know it’s there.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 33:46, 17th Oct)

“I’ve been hasty. But the fact that I know it’s there, and I can just stroke my right mouse button, that’s all I need. As long as I know it’s there.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 34:27, 17th Oct)

“You’ve convinced me, I don’t wanna go straight to Plan B, if Plan A fails.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 39:02, 17th Oct)

“Look, Tommy, at the end of the day, if this doesn’t go well, I’m gonna blow the place to smithereens. The place will be gone, I’m gonna detonate it and blow it to smithereens, right, if this doesn’t go well. But it will go well…! … ‘Cause it’s literally- there’s no one on Schlatt’s side.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 21:00, 16th Nov)

“But none of them have the same anticipatory love of what they’re doing, unlike us. Everyone on our side is fighting for something we’ve loved, and had for ages, right. That’s why we’re gonna win, and that’s why you shouldn’t be afraid. And yes, the whole place is rigged.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 21:38, 16th Nov)

“I could, I really could, that’s the thing. That’s the bit that I like. It’s the bit that makes me smile the most is the fact that I definitely could.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 26:28, 16th Nov)

“Chekhov’s Gun. Chekhov’s Gun. I’ll be honest with you, chat, I’ve been wondering this whole time if it still works. I’ve been thinking to myself does it still- ‘Cause I fixed it up for today.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:11:36, 16th Nov)

“Phil, I’m always so close to pressing this button, Phil! I have been here, like seven or eight times I have been here… Seven or eight times” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:14:56, 16th Nov)

“Phil, I’ve been here here so many times.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:15:13, 16th Nov)

“I don’t even know if it works anymore, Phil. I don’t even know if the button works. I could, I could… press it, and it might-” (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:15:29, 16th Nov)

5) The one time anything about Wilbur using TNT while young (and here the age isn't as clearly implied as in Phil's thing, this could very well be more of teen Wilbur than kid Wilbur) is mentioned in the actual text is this one maybe-canon-maybe-not-so-canon-anymore line:

“Tommy, have you heard of TNT duplication? The flying machines that dup TNT? Phil taught me about them. He taught me about them- I’m sure he wouldn’t have taught me them if he knew what I was gonna do with them. But, he did teach me about them. … They were very useful, in this.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 11:30, 16th Oct)

Now let’s pretend that headcanon makes any sense and that yeah, Wilbur totally just enjoyed building shit to detonate and said tendency encouraged in childhood just up and carried into adulthood and manifested as him internally going “I must blow up this thing I made because that’s what I do” and let’s pretend that he didn’t have a big ass internal conflict about it.

Ok, so Phil said that Wilbur blew stuff up when little, so he’d have connected it to the button room. Now think for a moment: How does that reflect on Phil as a parent? Let’s forget about everything else for this one moment (and believe me, I’ve got no shortage of stuff to critique c!Phil on in regards to his relation with c!Wilbur) and just focus on this one action. A man freely lets his son use TNT to blow up some random stuff presumably made out of toys. Just a little kid playing with TNT, yup, that’s his boy. And it was to such a degree that the same man just went “Oh yeah! It’s totally the blowing shit up thing!” in a fraction of a second after seeing the button… And then yeah, saw all of the hesitation, the breakdown, the struggle, the wishes to die and impaled him with a sword, but we can go deeper into those aspects in another post

Then Phil tried to make it better by saying to chat that all kids just break stuff apart, more implying that little Wilbur wasn’t actually using explosives which… makes the whole thing even dumber, ngl, because at that point c!Phil is just saying “Oh yeah, he knocked over his lego houses when he was four, so when I saw that button I immediately went ‘Oh, of course! He rigged the place! What an obvious connection!’”. You see what I’m getting at?

TLDR: It doesn’t fit with canon and even if we shove it in with its implications, then c!Phil is just an idiot, whether it be from letting his kid freely play with TNT to such a degree that he deduces where his most drastic measure resulting from trauma and breakdowns is going just by seeing the button OR whether it be from him connecting dots where there are none if he tries to save his skin as a father and just say “Oh yeah, no, who didn’t knock over stuff as a kid, what do you mean?” not realizing that… exactly… who didn’t…. so it wouldn’t connect with the button room at all

[hawkinslibrary]

anon !!! this is hours later than i meant for it to be, but here's my rambling essay-length response to your ask from earlier !!!!!!!! fair warning, i am just... so stupid and don't know how to properly get my thoughts across so it's a whole Mess 😬

your last text post is so real!! i really don't get the main character death obssesion either. it's honestly funny in a way because st is pretty much the only show that doesn't kill protagonists, and if they do they're brought back, yet there's more main character death talk in this fandom than anyone can take. it's like people just can't accept the duffers ain't about that life??!  

first, i want to clarify that, to me, the main characters have always been joyce, hopper, nancy, jonathan, steve, mike, el, lucas, will, and dustin, with the addition of max in s2 and robin in s3. this is the main group that we follow, these are our protagonists, and everyone else is just secondary, regardless of whether the actor appears in the main credits or not  

now, my post was definitely more aimed at all the talk i've seen about how there has to be a main character death before the show is over. people acting like it’s a given. i personally just really really don't want any of them to die and hate thinking about the possibility lmao

we don’t know how it’s going to end, or what the final season will be like, how dire things will be. they could absolutely switch gears and start killing mains left and right. i feel like waiting until the final season is exactly what so many other shows do anyway, right? so i get the concern, and it makes me a little wary, too. but that’s exactly it – so many other shows do it. it's weird, it’s tired, it’s unnecessary. and, really, the duffers are out here right now saying how much they regret killing chrissy off and she was only in the one episode. so like... imagine them actually trying to kill off one of the mains  

they can’t please everyone, but i do think ultimately they’ll want to try to do right by as many fans of the show as possible, you know? the wrong kind of ending can ruin a show forever. people love these characters and at the end of it all, i think most of us just want to see them thriving  

(and it’s not like will or el or hopper (or brenner) were ever actually dead. they just made the other characters believe they were, and each time there’s been pretty immediate hints that they weren’t gone for good -- the whole situation with will’s body + him talking to joyce through the lights, hopper leaving the eggos for el, no body for hopper + ‘the american’ in the russian prison, no body for brenner – and this show doesn’t shy away from showing bodies. when a character is dead, they want us to know it and feel it) 

even the cast, millie and noah talking about how it's so big someone *has* to die, right? THEY LITERALLY DON'T. yes, it's a big battle and there should be losses but there is no reason for that to be main characters. like you said, is that unrealistic (and maybe a little ridiculous)?? well, yeah, but so is the show. realism has never been a priority in st. the show is literally a sappy sci-fi horror. and not killing protagonists is part of their formula, just like separating everyone into groups and then bringing them together in the finale is  

i think millie and noah were just joking when they said to start killing everyone, even their own characters, off. like, yeah, the cast is pretty big right now and a ton of characters were added for this season specifically, but they’ve all had their own roles to play and barely exist outside of those parts. chrissy, fred, patrick, they were all brought on just to be killed off – probably the same to be said for more new characters by the end of this season. and i think millie even said something about the duffers being afraid of or even just refusing to kill main characters. but why is killing main characters such a normal thing now? why do we have to expect for characters we love to die horribly for like... no reason?  

i've said it before, but this show absolutely is unrealistic and ridiculous AND cheesy. but it’s rooted in inspiration and references to 80s media, which is also something that i tend to think of as unrealistic and ridiculous and cheesy, so i mean it in the best way possible. it does its job. it's sappy and nostalgic, has an intense focus on love and family and friendship, while also playing on like... every major genre and trope from the era that they can fit into however many episodes and however many hours. i think some people take pieces of it way more seriously than the creators ever intended. they want it to be good, obviously, but also they’re huge nerds and they just want to have fun with it 

i'm absolutely worried about some of the more side characters this season, and i know losing any of them is going to hurt, too. they're very good at making you care about a secondary character only to rip them away from you. but if this was just any other show, we would’ve probably already seriously lost a main character or two  

i've seen people actually criticize this a lot because "it takes away from scenes like the end of dear billy because i know max won't die" and i guess that's valid criticism in some ways but i think people forget that that's literally just NOT the point of that scene. like, if they wanted you to be afraid max would actually like die, you would be. they've had every chance to kill main characters before. they could have killed nancy at the end of ep7 but they didn't. they're not even TRYING to get people scared for her, actually. that's why she's in the teaser and a bunch of bts and why they're not being suspenseful about her fate at all. st doesn't kill main characters. because they. don't. want. to. and they don't want people to be scared of that either, otherwise they'd be a lot more hush hush about stuff. this is something that has been true since s01.

again, why does it even matter? if you know that she isn’t going to die? death isn’t the only possible ending, and it’s not the only consequence, and she’s still very much in danger. there are still so many things that can happen, things that can go wrong, without having to make things so Final. i'm sorry if it starts feeling repetitive that main characters Aren’t being killed off ? but again, why are we just so accepting that that’s a normal response lol  

people around these characters have been dying since s1. like directly or indirectly, because of their involvement with the main characters, because of something the main characters have done. that's messed up enough ! we should be worried about everyone who isn’t listed above that’s ever interacted with one of the mains before even thinking to worry about them. it's a part of that endless suffering i mentioned. guilt, trauma, angst, suffering, only to die in the end anyway... it's just miserable 

they "kill" el and immediately add a scene of hopper taking eggos to the woods. they "kill" hopper and immediately add "the american". st makes fans suffer by putting their main characters through hell, but they don't kill them. that's actually something i love about the show. and some people may find that ridiculous or an error (and yeah, dead loved ones coming back again and again is anything but realistic) but it's very much intentional and has been since day 1 and changing that at the last second would be a huge mistake. one i don't think they'd ever make. (and that's not even talking about how death would ruin most character arcs and make their whole story pointless). anyway, i'm with you with hating the death obssesion around here!! they're so not going there, though, i'm fairly certain we're right 💙 

again, we're talking about the people who have said they immediately regretted killing characters who've only appeared in one episode. people who said they would leave the show if certain characters were killed off. people who write lines like: "she saves your life because of friendship", which, yes, was said incredulously, but should actually be considered a blueprint of the show. one memory of her mother saying she loved her was enough for el to beat henry in that first fight. it's a show literally about underdogs persevering against all odds ("chances of success..." "never tell me the odds")

and just...

killing certain characters would make other seasons of the show completely pointless, others would cause major major major backlash, others have already 'died' AND done the 'sacrifice themselves for everyone else' thing so doing it again but actually dying this time would be stupid, others would completely kill the nostalgia/rewatchability factor, and some would just be cruel. this covers the entire major cast

this is just my thought process on it anyway haha. like, they still could definitely kill someone, but i just think it’d be a bad idea. there's many more interesting and less final ways to go about it idk 

[obae-me]

Hi! If your inbox is open, I'd like to request a scenario with all (or any) of the demon brothers, + undatables reacting to a blind MC? Like, none of them expected to have a blind human and Devildom and they have to revamp everything to make it as safe for MC as possible. Can be she/her or they/them pronouns for MC. Bonus points if MC is extremely talkative and won't shut up lmao. Thank you!

I’m still learning how I best want to write the Undateables, so I’m sorry if they’re a bit lacking. This was really wholesome to write, thank you for your request! 💜

Lucifer

When first summoned down to the Devildom, MC looked more disoriented than he would’ve expected. “Where am I? Who are you guys?” They hadn’t managed to look at Diavolo yet, even while he was speaking to them. They already put him in a bad mood.

“Didn’t you learn its bad manners to ignore the people that are talking to you? Look at Lord Diavolo while he’s speaking.” Lucifer growled, leaving MC with an exasperated expression.

“I’m BLIND.”

Error.

They were blind?? Humans were so fragile that they could just lose their eyesight?? Permanently?! He’s already got several new grey hairs. He’d have to entirely change up the house, he’d need to have someone with them at all times. How would they read? How would they get school work done?

MC has to explain to him that they’ve been this way for a long time, so they can handle themselves. They’ll have to tell him about things they use to help them out, like a cane for starters. They’ll tell him later how they best do schoolwork, but he’s already busy contacting someone about a cane.

It doesn’t matter what MC says, he now feels obligated to keep them under his watch as much as possible. He’s responsible for keeping them safe after all, and he can’t feel relaxed until he can confirm that they’re okay.

Although he did find out that MC was as talkative and feisty as a human could be. If things went too quiet they’d quickly fill up the empty space with chatter. Not to mention anytime he, or any demon for that matter, went into demon form, the intimidation factor was lost. MC never budged. They didn’t mind standing up to him, which annoyed him greatly, but absolutely blew his mind. How such a tiny human, who didn’t have a major part of functioning, could easily stand up to a demon was beyond him.

When MC first asked if it was okay to ‘see’ him, he had no idea what they meant, but was curious to see where it would lead. He wasn’t aware that MC knew any magic. He didn’t expect MC to come over and gently touch his face, running their fingers gingerly over his features. MC politely asked if he could show his true self, and he agreed. MC drifted their way up to his horns, feeling the texture and shape. They had an expression of awe on their face, probably because they now knew that it was real, he wasn’t human. They struggled to find these supposed wings of his, and with one of his gloved hands, Lucifer took their wrist and guided MC along. They made a little gasp as the feathers brushed against their skin.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, his demon form was supposed to strike shock and fear into people. He was supposed to be respected. He was supposed to be above this. So how was it he was sitting here, MC running their hands all over him, and he was the one who was shocked and speechless. He hated how MC had lost their eyesight, but in this one moment he was grateful that they couldn’t see his reddened face with such an embarrassing expression plastered over it.

Mammon

“What do you mean they can’t see? It’s not that dark in the Devildom. Oi, human, just open your eyes, don’t you know how seeing works?!...Oh...Oooh...”

He had a less than grand first impression when he first met MC, and to be honest, it kept getting worse before it got better. He didn’t know when to shut his mouth. He tried asking Lucifer if they could get a different human, one that wasn’t broken. He must’ve somehow thought that whispering from only about a foot away would keep MC from hearing him.

He didn’t get a different human, he was stuck with them, and he was going to receive a particularly severe punishment that night for how poorly he treated MC. He was in a bad mood, not to mention out of his mind with panic.

“I don’t know what to do with people who can’t see? Can we fix ya? Surely there’s some magic here that’ll make you good as new!”

He tried spells, he tried potions, he even paid a fortune to one of the Devildom’s best doctors. None of his antics worked, and out of all the brothers, Mammon took the longest to process that this was how MC was. It was a part of them. They would be like this forever.

He’ll stay by their side constantly, escorting them by the arm and hand, talking their ear off about this and that to keep them distracted. It causes MC to laugh about it every time. Who needs a seeing eye dog when you’ve got a wonderfully trained seeing eye Mammon. Sometimes he would even pick them up to go up and down stairs if he felt they would be too dangerous.

Anytime they’re at any sort of store, MC will have to touch almost everything, and if their hands brush across anything they like, even if only for it’s tactile nature, Mammon will buy it for them at the drop of a hat. It’ll drive Lucifer a bit crazy over the fact that MC won’t ever have a need for most of the things Mammon buys, but he’ll not bother them about it if he sees it makes MC happy even just to hold it.

MC is super talkative, but it’s typically just to fill empty dark space and make things seem more comfortable, but when they’re with Mammon, they don’t need to say a word. He does all the talking, and MC’s grown accustomed to the sound of his voice. It’s so different from his other brothers, the mannerisms he uses and the slight accent to it. Mammon still doesn’t realize that, for this reason, MC can single him out among the crowds at RAD, or how Mammon can never seem to sneak up on them. MC loves how loud he is. No matter how quiet he tries being, MC can always pick him out of the darkness, for them, he’s always there. Mammon will never say it, but he loves how his human knows him apart from everyone else.

Levi

“Huh, so you don’t watch anime, what a typical normie.”

“I actually can’t watch anything, just for your information.”

Fatality.

He knows the concept of blindness from anime and manga, but it almost seemed as foreign to him as magic seemed to MC. Typically in the stories he saw, it was never permanent, always the cause of some curse or spell or even a fight! MC had gone through none of that, it was what it was.

He almost found it relaxing for a moment, because he felt a bit more confident in himself. MC couldn’t see what an ugly shut-in looked like. However, his moods were quickly dashed when MC tripped over an empty can he had lying on the floor. He caught them from falling but quickly went into a state of despair. He was a dirty trashy shut-in. Lucifer would later find that Levi now had his room clean of trash at all times, his floor spotless.

Levi would absolutely cry, and I mean cry, over the fact that MC would never be able to fully enjoy anime or manga or video games. They could maybe enjoy some Dubbed shows but it wouldn’t be the same. If MC hangs out with him, Levi will give them the full commentator experience. He’ll explain what’s going on in his games or shows in hopes MC can still enjoy his favorite form of entertainment.

The first time in his Demon form, MC stepped on his tail in attempt to get to his wings. He yelped in shock. MC was vastly confused. What was that? Where was his wings? Lucifer and Mammon had wings so where were his? He hated being compared to them like that. He couldn’t fly, he couldn’t look nearly as intimidating. No he didn’t have wings, he just has this clunky ugly tail. MC grabbed his tail, making him turn bright red. They ran their fingers over his scales, petting it, pulling it out to see how long it was. MC endlessly talked about how cool it was, and how it felt amazing to touch. Lucifer and Mammon didn’t have a tail. Levi never felt envious of not having wings ever again.

Satan

He can’t believe his brothers didn’t know that humans were capable of being blind. They were extremely fragile creatures but somehow were heartier and more stubborn than they looked, capable of thriving despite everything they go through.

He didn’t know everything about being blind, since it never seemed to come up often enough for him to need to learn about. So you can bet that in just the first few days MC was there, he thoroughly studied up on anything he thought would help him.

He was surprised to find that there was a form of reading available for people who had lost their sight. He had never heard about Braille before this. As a demon who wanted to learn as many languages and reading forms as possible, he was angry he missed something like this. 

He wasn’t as angry, however, when MC offered to help teach him how to read Braille if he helped them with their schoolwork and studies. The Devildom school was surprisingly accommodating but until Diavolo and Lucifer finished sorting things out, they couldn’t read any of their schoolwork.

He usually preferred silence, but he didn’t mind when MC would come in his room and feel comfortable enough to talk in detail everything that had happened that day. In return, he liked when MC would listen intently as his narrating voice filled up the room while he would read his favorite stories to them. He loved the way their face would crinkle when he’d attempt to voice a particular character. They put their hand on his chest and would beg him to do it again with a laugh. He’d attempt the line again, MC feeling the deep rumble in his chest. Reading would now not be the same without them. 

The more he got to know them, the more the heat in his chest over their blank non-focused eyes grew hotter. How could they not see? How could someone like them be deprived of something like that? He couldn’t show them art, photographs, the beauty of the Devildom’s stars. MC assured him that it was alright, anytime they wanted to know what something looked like, they would ask him. Anything he described sounded like poetry. With him around, his words would be enough. 

Asmo

Blind, as in they couldn’t see anything, see him?! His radiant shine? His picture perfect features? His allure? They wouldn’t see any of that? He was astounded. He was upset. He was dramatically depressed. He got over it pretty quickly, though, he’s very attractive yes, but all of his other qualities were just as attractive.

He’ll help tweak their uniform, he’ll buy them clothes that not only feel amazing, but look amazing. If touch is important to them, he’ll get them lotions, skincare products, anything they wanted to keep them well taken care of. Their hands will never worry about being dry. 

He loves when MC touches his face to know what he looks like. He’ll use this as an excuse. “How do you know it’s Asmo? I might have put a spell on my voice, double check.” He’ll put his hands over theirs while they amuse him and feel the details on his face down to the bridge of his nose.

One particularly pleasant evening for Asmo, he goes on and on about new clothes he bought, and then brings MC into it. 

“Right right? I think it’ll look ravishing on me, the color matches MC’s eyes.” MC smiles and states that they had forgotten their eyes were that color. Asmo sits there for a moment before shrieking, standing up so fast his chair falls over. “You don’t even know what you look like!”

Of course MC had a pretty general idea of what they looked like, but yes he was right for the most part. They didn’t understand why Asmo was so shocked about it. However, Asmo refuses to let this go, and he takes them to his bedroom describing MC down to the bone. He’ll tell them what their eye color reminds him of, the particular way their eyelashes curl, how their complexion looked under the moonlight. He’ll go on and on and on, not realizing that he’s never ever spoke so long about someone else before, so MC lets him continue. They’ve never cared about appearances before, but the way Asmo talks about them makes them cozy on the inside. He made them feel like the most gorgeous thing on earth.

They’ll then change it up, making Asmo close their eyes as they talk about all the things about him that they love. The way the air smells around him when he comes into the room. The way his tone raises up when he’s excited about something. The way his footsteps sound on hard surfaces. They adore how one side of his hair is longer than the other. They love his presence. Asmo is dumbfounded, no one has ever described him in that way before. He’ll melt and might call a doctor for this strange new feeling in his chest. 

Beel

They can’t see anything? Can they at least eat?? Well then it’s not the end of the world. If MC had somehow been deprived of taste, he would’ve really been upset. Food doesn’t have to look great to taste great. Still, the fact that they couldn’t see made the Devildom even more dangerous, and he didn’t want anything to happen to them. He couldn’t let anyone get hurt around him, not again. 

He’s among the most considerate of the brothers even though he’s not used to being around someone that can’t see. He’s real worried he’ll hurt MC, so he’s always extra careful. He’ll announce that he’s beside them even though they heard his footsteps near them and could feel the heat coming off of his body. He’ll always ask them first if it’s okay to touch them so he can help them out. He’s even extra wary about hugs at first, what if he just...breaks them even more? As time goes by he learns he doesn’t need to walk on eggshells.

He finds it a fun game to let them try to figure out what stuff he made for them before they eat it, more times than not, they figure it out. Then he’ll eat it with them, unnecessarily guiding the fork to their mouth.

If Mammon isn’t by their side, it’s usually Beel who’s next. If he’s not busy with sports or working out, he’ll stick around by MC wherever they want to go. However, it’s usually MC who stays by him whenever he sees something tasty to make sure he doesn’t run off.

MC knew he worked out, but had always envisioned him to be like a big teddy bear. It wasn’t until MC asked to feel him until they understood just how strong Beel was. Under his soft clothes, they felt his tough muscles. He was built like a brick, no matter where they felt him, his arms, his sides, he was completely different than they had expected. His face was soft at least. His hair fun to play with. In his demon form adored touching his horns, exclaiming that they were perfect for fitting doughnuts. He didn’t need to know that, now Lucifer’s going to have to question why in the world Beel has doughnuts stacked on his horns. His wings felt silky and surprisingly fragile despite how strong he felt everywhere else. They were sure they weren’t as weak as they felt, but it let MC know that Beel was still soft. MC couldn’t stop gawking over how big and strong Beel was, pretending to punch him in the gut even though they could probably punch him for real and he wouldn’t feel it.

All Beel wanted was to tell MC how strong he thought they were.

Belphie

At first, he couldn’t believe that, somehow, they had chosen someone who couldn’t even see to be a part of the program. He felt like this supported his idea that it was a terrible idea to begin with, but fortunately, he thought, this made it easy for him to manipulate MC’s actions. How guilty this made him feel, afterwards.

He’d stay silent and sneak around MC, feeling that it was best if they didn’t even know he was there. They knew where he was, no matter how hard he tried. They could follow his dragging footsteps as he lazily walked through the house. His sighs and breathing were also very distinguishable.

They didn’t start getting to know each other till MC was wandering through the house, trying to still burn the number of steps in their mind in this massive place. Their cane found a strange obstacle in the middle of the floor, something that wasn’t usually there. They poked it, it was surprisingly soft. They got down on their knees and reached over, feeling cozy clothes and skin. They found a face and traced it over. It wasn’t anyone they had memorized, so it must’ve been Belphie. Made sense that he was the only one crazy enough to sleep in the middle of the floor. They loved how soft he felt, softer than any of his other brothers. Even his hair was like a velvety down you’d find in a pillow.

They knew he had woken up from his nap. The little muscles in his face were twitching, and his breathing was strained. He was trying to pretend he was asleep, but MC just kept going. They traced down his slender arms to his hands. They were free of any callouses or cuts. They took his hand and grasped it firmly in their own.

“I forgive you, you don’t need to avoid me anymore, or pretend that you’re asleep.” They heard his breathing go still, and then he sat up.

“You knew?”

“I’m not as stupid as people think I am. I may not be able to see, but I can still figure things out just fine.” They gently whacked him with their cane. “So I know you’ve been sneaking around me.”

Belphie didn’t think they wanted him around, after everything he’d done. He was still surprised his brothers kept him around at the end of the day. He just sighed. Emotions were exhausting. 

MC felt for his waist and then gave him a tight hug. They knew what it meant to be ashamed of you you were, of the things you’d done, but it didn’t matter. They wanted bygones to be bygones, and they wanted to learn about Belphie for who he really was, not what grief had made him out to be. 

MC now finds a new lump in their bed every so often. A lump that moans when you lie on it apparently. Naps are pleasant with him around. MC loves sleeping with their hands in his hair. 

MC can’t dream, not in the same way other people do, so Belphie does enough dreaming for the both of them. He’ll share stories of rippling meadows and drifting clouds. He’ll make sure they hear all sorts of pleasant things before they fall asleep. He hopes he can make it up to them.

Diavolo

Figuring out MC was blind didn’t come as a shock, he knew they were after all. He wouldn’t choose someone without knowing the important things about them, and having no eyesight definitely checked out as important. 

Knowing him, he did this as a test. He was testing out how the brothers would react and if they indeed could keep MC safe. If a blind human could make it through an entire year in the realm of demons, it would be more than a major success for his program.

The more he got to know about MC, the more he grew close to them instead of just treating them like a test subject or a campaign plan. He loved how they weren’t intimidated by him in the slightest, and he also loved how he could spend hours with them, MC talking the entire time. It drove Lucifer wild, but Diavolo found it fascinating and fun. 

“Is this what having friends is like? Amazing.”

He’ll have things all set up for them in a matter of days, having whatever accommodations they need to make their school life as easy as possible. Of course, this supposed ‘special treatment’ didn’t go well over demons who opposed the program. Some demons who disapproved didn’t have the courage to defy him directly at first, but now they were starting to scurry out of the sewers like rats. They headed straight over to Diavolo’s new ‘pet’.

They would abuse MC’s lack of sight to mess with them, stealing their things, purposefully knocking them around since they wouldn’t be able to tell who they were, but any demon who thinks Diavolo doesn’t see everything is sadly mistaken. MC tried standing up for themselves, but they could feel a tremendous and overwhelming presence behind them, larger than anything they had felt before. The demons would gasp, and the bullying would stop. Diavolo would put a hand on MC’s shoulder and they’d never be bothered again.

MC knew that this was the Lord of Demons, but they wanted to feel him in his demon form anyway, should he permit. He did permit, and at last MC was able to figure out this terrifying form of his. In his human form he was large, yes, but in demon form he was even bigger, impossibly big. Demonically big. His horns and wings were sharp and decorated in all manner of jewelry. The skin that stretched over bone to serve as his wings were littered with veins, and even just touching them allowed MC to feel the power pumping through them. He was intimidating yes, but after running their hands over his features, they were able to see how beautiful he was in his frightening glory.

Diavolo won’t tell them this, but they’re the only human who has ever laid a hand on him without immediately perishing or being subjected to torment. He’ll let MC do it again too, if they ever ask him.

Barbatos

The fact that he could’ve chosen a timeline where MC wasn’t like this is irrelevant. MC remained relatively the same throughout the different branches, blind or not. He does have control over time but mostly he’ll let time decide for itself, and he’ll take whatever MC the thread of fate decides to give him in this universe. No matter who shows up, he’ll take care of them.

He’s their secret shadow. MC’s working eyes. Diavolo always has him keeping tabs on them, keeping them safe whenever the brothers can’t. MC at first didn’t understand the whisper in the wind that told them to move to the side right before a demon blazed past. They were confused about the phenomenon of something wrapping around their leg to pull them down to the floor before an object whizzed above their head, causing something to explode behind them. It took MC until they finally heard Barbatos’ voice before it clicked.

When they asked to associate a form with that soft voice, he accepted, the normally even and calm tone just slightly more enthusiastic than normal. He had very wide shoulders and strong hands. Serving hands. Hands that felt almost familiar in a funny way, almost like they were hands that had pulled them away from an problem or two. His hair was longer on one side than the other, and they loved that. Even his demon form was intriguing. In every way that Diavolo’s presence boldly screamed, his aura clearly there, Barbatos was subtle. His horns were different than any horns MC had felt thus far. They were slender, bony, like two skeletal hands were reaching around his face to rest just above his forehead. Even his tail was different, splitting off near the bottom to have two controllable ends. He almost scared MC more than Diavolo. 

Sometimes MC will talk to themselves alone in their room, filling up the silent space with their voice so it’s not as dark, not as dismal. Occasionally MC will feel like there’s someone there. Like there’s something nodding along with their ramble in the darkness as shadows quietly tidy up their room. MC will find their clothes folded in distinguishable piles. The floor clear of any potential obstacles. Their cane is easily accessible right near their bed.

“Thank you, Barbatos.”

Sometimes the shadow will answer MC back, quietly drifting across the room to touch MC’s cheek before disappearing like a whisper. The darkness doesn’t seem as lonely anymore.

Simeon

He’s definitely going to be the kind of person who says “There must be a reason if God intended it.” MC had heard that throughout their life too many times. Religious or not, they hated when someone took their life and their disability and summed it up to God’s works. Their life was theirs alone, it belonged to no one else. They have a hard time around this angel at first.

Like Barbatos, Simeon can be impossibly quiet, which makes it hard for MC to be able to tell if he’s moving around. The only giveaways are the sounds his cloak makes, the little diamond shaped decor making slight clinking sounds as he moves. It’s melodic in a way, which MC sums up to angelic grace.

He’s not all bad, though. Yes he does believe God has his hands in all things, but that doesn’t mean he pities MC. That he thinks any less of them as a being. It doesn’t mean he’s chalking up their life to a charity case. He’s actually very sweet and fun. He’s one of the only people besides perhaps Solomon who believes MC is stronger than what they seem.

MC will admit sometimes they absolutely love how much the demons coddle and pamper them, but it can get too much too quickly. So sometimes they’ll run off and hang out with Simeon. He treats them like a person, not like a disability, not like a fragile little flower, but...normal. 

“Hello, Simeon here...yes, MC is here...stop screaming, they’re fine...we’ve just been talking.”

He’ll let them talk and talk and talk. He’s quiet himself but he loves to hear MC’s voice. How happy they sound when they share stories and discussions and things that happened during their day. 

MC can’t get enough of him now, they love hanging around this angel. There’s no sun in the Devildom, but anytime they’re around Simeon, they feel the same rays of warmth the sunshine gives. 

Simeon will never call MC ‘human’ sometimes God’s Miracle, sometimes a Godsend, more often than not, a blessing, but never just ‘human’.

Solomon

Yes, MC is blind, and? He doesn’t care what disability they do or do not have, he still finds them intriguing, and they’re his sole human companion in this place, a kindred spirit.

He’s also mischief wrapped in mystery, so he does his best to teach MC some simple spells to make their life a little easier down in the Devildom. Letting things they drop come right back into their hands, giving a shock to anyone who touches them that they don’t know, simple things like that. He did underestimate MC’s power, though. He may or may not have had seven demons at his door the next day when he learned that MC had accidentally dragged all the furniture in the living room towards them at a disturbing pace after they dropped a schoolbook. He did find it very funny, but taught them how to control their powers better. 

MC also doesn’t realize how much magic Solomon uses for their benefit. Objects they feel around for sometimes drift towards their hand. They will magically walk over holes in the ground. If any little pesky demon even dares try to mess with them, they’ll find themselves cursed. He knows that MC has nine powerful demons and two angels looking after them, but he does his part. 

When he finally does let MC touch his face, they’re disappointed to find that Solomon is very much in control of his expressions. They can’t get a reading off of what he’s feeling at all. They love anytime the brothers can’t help but let their lip quiver or their eyes flutter. Solomon stays blank, maybe letting them feel a smile on his face, nothing more. However, they are pleased to find not even Solomon can control his temperature, they can feel his cheeks get warmer by the second as they caress his face. 

They run their hands though his hair and find that touching him gives them a strange sensation. It’s something akin to static, but without the shock. It’s wonderfully addictive and strange. It leaves their fingers tingling and their nerves vibrating. 

Because of this sensation, MC has to touch him anytime they meet. Solomon doesn’t mind, in fact he lives for this. He’ll look over MC’s shoulder and give a small smirk to any of the demon brothers standing behind them. The expressions they pull make everything so much better. 

Luke

He’s ready to fight every demon in the Devildom when he learns they’re blind. Everything bad comes from demons, so it had to be one of them, not even hours they had been there before they took MC’s sight!

MC had to calm down the small yapping angel and tell them that they had been this way for a very long time. It just happened, it was just life. He has a very hard time dealing with this.

“But you’re so nice and sweet and wonderful, why can’t you see?” Was he crying?

MC has to promise him that it is okay, there’s still plenty to enjoy in their life. Humans don’t have it easy but they learned to move on anyway. He still doesn’t understand how MC’s not an angel. He suddenly shakes off their supporting words because he’s supposed to be the protector, not a human! He swears to protect them no matter what, no demon will stop him!

He loves to hang out with them, making sure they’re away from demons every now and then for the sake of their soul. He makes sure they’ve been treating MC okay. Even if the answer is yes, he doesn’t care what MC says, he cannot trust demons. So he brings MC the sweets he made to make sure they get plenty to eat. (No, he doesn’t know they can’t live off of sweets just yet)

If he lets MC touch his face, MC cannot get over how soft and squishy this little angel is. He’s just as cute as he sounds.