#this is so long oh my god I'm so sorry

[kensatou]

you think YOU had a bad day at work?

bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[necrotic-nephilim]

au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning

(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)

i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3

Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.

Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.

Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.

The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.

And found himself staring at another figure.

With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.

He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.

The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.

"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.

Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.

"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.

Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.

"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.

Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.

He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.

"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.

Too neutral, for Tim.

"At two am?"

"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.

He was shirtless, Dick just realized.

Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.

"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"

"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."

The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.

"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"

"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."

If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.

"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.

"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."

Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.

"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.

Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."

"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"

Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.

"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."

Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.

But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.

Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.

Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.

Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.

When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.

All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."

"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.

Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?

Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.

Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.

The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."

Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."

"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.

"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"

Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.

Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.

Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

So much for his breakfast.

[mintkookiess]

If Only.

Worst mistake to write angst while listening to a sad playlist oh my god I kid you not, I started ugly sobbing during the climax that I needed a quick break before continuing. Don't mind me, just gonna sulk in a corner for a while.

Love,

Mint

Summary: Hanahaki disease. That’s all I’m placing here.

Tags: Miles Morales x reader, Hanahaki disease, angst (no happy ending again), death, don't forget your tissues, not proofread, maybe I'll do it later

Warnings: Major character death, mentions of blood

Your eyes pried open on another normal, already dragging, Tuesday morning. The alarm clock on your bedside table wasn’t even loud enough to wake you, seeing as how you slept through it. You carefully laid to your side, as the all-too-familiar cough climbed up your throat. This went on for a minute until you see a small pile of petals on the floor. 

“Shit…” You muttered to yourself, groggily grabbing the glass of water that you’d already prepared the previous night like always. This was the normal morning routine for you.

Wake up. Cough those stupidly red petals. Get through the day. Cough even more petals. Go home. Sleep. Repeat.

On this particular morning, however, it was quite different because you could hear the voice of your best friend outside your dorm.

“Hey, you awake yet?” Miles asked, knocking softly to make sure he doesn’t wake you if you were still asleep. You always thought that was kind of him. 

You forced yourself up and out of your bed, shoving back the blankets then dragged your feet to open the door. 

“I’m awake. Why are you here? Thought you’d be waiting at the school entrance like usual.” You said huskily, still with that morning voice. Your best friend shook his head, “I kinda woke up a little early today so I thought I’d come to pick you up from your place instead.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. 

He was just too good for you.

“Fine. Let me get changed at least.” You chuckled, before closing the door in his face. You laid your back against it, sliding down to the floor as you felt that familiar ache in your chest.

In just a few seconds, you started hacking once more right then and there.  

Ah, was it because I wasn’t expecting him here this morning?

“H-Hey, you good?” You hear Miles ask from the other side, making you scramble up. “I’m fine Miles just um… choked on my saliva.” You lied. Your hands quickly grab the tiny broom and pan you kept and started sweeping up all the red petals that decorated your floor. 

You then threw every single last one in your already overflowing bin. I’d have to clear that out before he sees it.

You quickly changed into some more decent clothes before grabbing your bag and heading out to see Miles laying against the opposite wall of the door, he gave you a small smile and stood up. “Ready?” 

You nodded in response, making sure to lock your door before you both head down. 

“Oh right, Gwen is actually coming with us to class today if that’s okay,” Miles said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his hair. 

You made it like your life’s mission to ignore Gwen at all costs. It was entirely selfish, but it wasn’t like it really did you any favors with your… disease. Miles had confronted you about this a couple of times, but you just came up with lie after lie. You didn’t want to, because you can’t exactly tell him the true reason. 

Of course, your best friend knew you were lying, but he just didn’t want to pry because it might make you uncomfortable. And you were thankful for that. Until now. 

“Miles—”

“I know I know I just… It was a last-minute thing.” Miles said, trying to reason with you, “It’ll be just this once I swear. I know you’re not exactly a fan of her but, can’t you still try? I mean maybe if you got to know her better—“

“Fine.” You sighed, finally agreeing. 

Doctor Sanchez’s words suddenly echoed in your head like a siren that was loudly warning you. 

“Stop feeding yourself even more hurt. Ignore, lie, and do anything you can to stop. It’ll slow it down, but not much.”

Oh, how you knew. This was practically engraved into your mind, heart, body, and soul. You said this to yourself so many times like an oath. Avoid the hurt. 

But you can’t keep being a bad friend to Miles any more than you already have. 

The both of you continued to walk to the lobby of your school in complete silence. Miles could only bite his lip in nervousness, though he just wanted to ask why you happened to dislike Gwen so much, he just didn’t want to make you mad. His grip on his backpack’s straps only tightens at the thought. 

What is really going on with you? He thought to himself. 

Your eyes stared straight forward as you both reached your destination. It wasn’t long until it spotted the familiar blonde girl from a distance.

Gwen gave a light wave to the two of you as she walked toward where you both were standing. 

“Hey Gwen, what’s up?” Miles greeted, his face lighting up in an instant like some Christmas tree in New York. 

You forced yourself to look away but still got a glimpse of it. 

Why did I agree to this?

Your chest tightened, and you instinctively covered your mouth with a hand. No please, not here. Not right now.

“Um hey…” Gwen cautiously greeted you. She tried to give you a friendly smile to which you only nodded.

Miles could already sense the growing tension and suddenly clapped his hands together. “So, physics class? We gotta bounce or we’d all be marked late.” 

“Yeah, we should go.” You mumbled, walking past them while still covering your mouth as if it would stop the cough that was threatening to let out. 

Gwen and Miles looked at each other worriedly but silently followed behind you. 

You could hear them talk in hushed voices behind you, but your entire focus was on trying to not cough in the school hallways. 

The Hanahaki disease isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone knows what it is. And you’d rather burn in hell than have people find out. Especially him and her.

Your other hand clutched your chest as you tried to walk faster because you wanted to keep a safe distance between you and the other two as much as possible before you practically start vomiting those red petals on the school floors. 

“Is… she okay?” Gwen whispered to Miles with clear concern. She knew you didn’t exactly like her, she wasn’t an idiot. Gwen believes that it’s because she suddenly entered your two-man friend group without warning when in reality, it was so much more than that. 

“Sorry about her…” Miles sighed, his head hung low and a frown decorated his lips. You were his absolute best friend, and to see you being like this with Gwen makes him ache. If only, he could know what was wrong, but he also wanted to respect your space. It has him torn between two cautious choices that could end up in the worst way possible. He just didn’t know how deep the consequences would be. 

Other than the different morning you had, it was just like any other day. You were able to stop yourself from coughing for the most part, but if you couldn’t take it you’d excuse yourself to the bathroom, letting out a few petals in the toilet and flushing them away. 

During lunchtime, it was usually just you and Miles at the cafeteria, but Gwen decided to tag along once again. So you had the utmost pleasure to see the two joke about and discuss things that you never understood because you weren’t a Spider person like them.

You watched as Miles laughed and smiled at everything she said, and all you could do was mindlessly stab your food in hopes of drowning out and forgetting what you're currently witnessing. However, you immediately started coughing. Your hands instantly flew to your mouth to keep the petals in your mouth. 

You gave Miles a panicked look before running out the cafeteria and into the bathroom, immediately vomiting all the petals that had accumulated inside your mouth, and for the rest of lunch, you were stuck there, filling up the toilet with the petals that were such an eye sore to you as hot tears flowed down from your eyes.

Miles had tried to bring it up during the succeeding classes, only for you to turn him down every single time. He finally gave up, but was still worried because he sensed something different about you today. 

Your doctor did prescribe you some suppressants for the disease, but you refused it time and time again. Taking those suppressants would make you slowly lose grip on your feelings for Miles. 

As much as it hurt you, you didn’t want that. 

To hell with those fucking petals, who cares if it’s taking your life little by little every day?  Your love for him was too great, too good of a feeling. It was worth it. 

It’ll be worth it. 

When you asked your doctor how much more time you have left, they didn’t give a direct answer but you knew. You already knew that it wasn’t long. Few months give or take. Maybe even shorter than that.

Once classes were done, you gave Miles your usual goodbye hug before heading out of campus to the hospital for your daily check-up for the Hanahaki disease. 

Your doctor did the usual tests, examining a petal of yours, conducting blood tests, scans, etc. 

After an hour, she called you back into her office for the results. You were halfway into taking your seat as she already shoots the question that you’d been dreading to be asked. 

“Have you been taking your suppressants?” 

In truth, you didn’t tell her that the pills were just laying on the floor somewhere in your dorm. You weren’t going to be lectured by your doctor. 

“Yes.” You lied, eyes looking everywhere in her office but her. Your eyes focused on this particular vase, where a single flower laid there. It was the same shade of red as yours, making you chuckle.

Before your doctor could start telling you about how important commitment was to the treatment, you start wheezing. 

But this time, it felt different. 

Your lungs felt like they ran out of air, your throat was like it had been clogged and you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes widened as you took sharp inhales, but for some reason, you couldn’t exhale at all. You fell off your chair and into the floor, gripping your throat, nails digging to scratch your skin from the excruciating pain. 

Doctor Sanchez was quick to get down to you, rubbing your back as her face filled with worry. “It’s at its final stage, you have to tell him—“

“No!” You yelled, surprised that you were even able to utter a single word. Shortly after that however, you were back to heaving. Your hand was now in a fist, punching your chest in an attempt to get out whatever it was that was in your lungs. 

Your mind started to fog up, and your vision was slowly going black until you saw it. 

The fully formed flowers on the ground. 

There were no petals, this time they were fully bloomed roses. 

They were so pretty that it was almost laughable. Something beautiful was stemming from your despair and suffering. At least there was one thing good happening from your godforsaken disease. 

Miles, on the other hand, barged into your dorm to bring the textbooks he borrowed from you, or at least that’s what his excuse was gonna be to you. It was your number one rule that he shouldn’t just come into your room when you were gone, but he could sense something off with you today. Much more than usual. And he was determined to find out.

He had an extra key for emergencies, so he entered without any problems. He took in your room, setting down the textbooks on your desk as he took a seat by the edge of your bed. 

She’s not here. He thought to himself, sighing. 

As his brown eyes roamed the different bits and bobs around your dorm, he suddenly spotted something behind your desk. Miles squinted his eyes, wondering what it was. “Is that… a petal?” He wondered out loud. He crept up to it, crawling under your desk to grab the petal. “What the…” His fingers examined it carefully until he spotted something from the corner of his eye. There were more. 

A lot more.

His eyes slowly widened at the bin of red petals. It was so full that the petals had dissipated around it on the floor. Miles’ eyebrows scrunched up together, wondering where all these could be from until… it dawned on him. 

“Hanahaki? But… but how I…” He stuttered. He pulled the bin towards him with shaking hands, inspecting the petals that had a rich shade of red. Almost similar to that of his Spiderman suit. 

She… She had this all along and hid it from me I…

He spots another item, it was a pill bottle. Except its contents were scattered, and the bottle itself was cracked as if it was thrown against the wall and fell behind your desk. 

Miles picked it up, dreading to see what it was. He slowly turned it around to see the words “Hanahaki suppressants - Y/n L/n 30 pills 150 mg” written in big bold letters that stared back at him.

He drops it out of shock, chest heaving and breaths coming in quickly. 

He was confused, so confused about everything. Why would you hide such a thing from him…? 

Doctor Sanchez called for emergency assistance, she grabbed the intercom in a panic. “Code blue! I repeat code blue! Medical assistance to room 1304 now! Code blue!” 

In a matter of seconds, doctors and nurses have already carried your body to a hospital bed, as roses continuously shook out of your mouth.

Your entire body was flaring up and all you could do was scratch your neck so hard that it almost draws blood. Your nose and ears have started to bleed out, and it was as if your skull was being cut open and stabbed repeatedly.

You couldn’t even form words as the nurses continued to push you into room 1304 for emergency treatment. The people at the hospital looked over in pity and nervousness as they watched the girl with the Hanahaki disease being pushed across the hallway as roses start to flood after her bed like a trail. 

Even if it felt like the pain was eating your entire body alive, all you could think of was him. 

Please, I need to see him. Even for just one more second, please.

But Miles doesn’t even know anything about this, and it just increases your already large amount of regret. 

I should’ve told him. Even though I know he doesn’t like me back, I should’ve told him. 

He’s my best friend. And I can't even say goodbye.

But maybe this was for the best. I wouldn't want him to see me in such a pathetic state.

Miles was quick to suit up, flinging himself out of your window in a matter of miliseconds. He didn’t know where to find you, and all he could do was rack his brain on the places that you could be in. As he continuously swung around the city, tears formed in his eyes behind his mask.

He was angry. So angry at himself for not noticing. Furious at the fact that he already knew something has been off with you for the past months, but he didn’t try hard enough to know what it was. He was mad because he just let you suffer alone. 

Some friend I am. He thought on repeat. 

He tried to use his senses to see if he could pinpoint your location, running and swinging between endless crowds and roads, because something felt terribly wrong. 

Miles didn’t know what exactly it was, but he knew. 

He had to hurry.

“Time of death… 5:47 pm.” Your doctor read from the monitor in a monotone voice. She wrote down the information with trembling hands. Her eyes crept up to see you on the hospital bed, frozen and still.

The static sound of the heart monitor was so deafening and seemed louder than it normally was. There was a heavy silence in the hospital’s emergency area as everyone present stood still. 

Another poor youthful soul had been taken by such a cruel disease.

Suddenly, the door banged open, and there stood Miles who was breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. 

His brown eyes spotted you and it was as if time had stopped running, as if the world around him disappeared just like that. 

Miles slowly took in the sight before him, your doctor who stood by the edge of your bed with a deep frown, you who was laying still, eyes closed. He also tried to process the flowers that filled up the entire floor of the room. These were roses, but he knew their petals. 

“I believe you are him?” Doctor Sanchez asked with a poor attempt at a professional tone. Miles’ mouth was still agape in shock, his mind refusing to process what he was seeing as he slowly looked at her. “Wh-What?” The doctor sighed, hugging her clipboard to her chest. “You’re her unrequited love, yes? You’re Miles Morales?”

The poor boy couldn’t muster a single word right now, so all he could do was slightly nod at her. “Time of death was 5:47, the cause is… Hanahaki.” She reported with an aching heart as she sees Miles’ expression. 

“I… I never knew until I saw the…” Miles couldn’t even bring himself to say it, that maybe if he didn’t then all of this wouldn’t be true. He took slow steps towards you, each one being heavier than the last as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

It felt as if his heart stopped beating, and his body no longer functioned as he stared down at you. His quivering fingers tried to grab your hand, only to find that it was cold… Too cold…

Right at that second, tears had already started to stream down his cheeks silently. Miles bit his lip hard as he started to harden his grip on your hand. He placed it between both his hands and he rubbed violently.

Maybe if he did so, he’d be able to bring back some warmth into your body. Maybe he’d feel that familiar tingling sensation that he always felt when both your hands would touch. He was silently praying that it was a prank, that he’d feel your fingers wrap around his, and that you’d tell him you were fine. 

But it never came. 

Your chest wasn’t rising up and down, there seemed to be no more color in your face, no more life. Your lips have turned a faint blue as dried blood surrounded your nose and ears. 

He refused to think of what this meant. He wasn’t going to believe it. He… He just can’t. 

“But I… I love her too.” Miles hiccuped between tears. He felt his legs give out, making him fall to his knees but the flowers had cushioned him from hitting the floor. Even in this state, you manage to keep him from feeling pain.

Doctor Sanchez’s breath hitched in her throat and she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “She thought you liked someone else. She didn’t want you to worry so she hid it I… I’ve tried to tell her that she should confess, to tell you how she felt but she… she was dead set on thinking that… she was never enough for you.” After one last breath, she walked towards the door. “I’ll… give you some privacy.”

Once the door closed behind him, Miles weakly stood up and that’s when it started. He let out the most painful cry so loud that everyone outside the room could hear. 

His hands gripped his hair, pulling at it vigorously as he continued to bawl his heart out in agony. 

The truth was, he loves you more than anyone in this entire world. He loves you with every fucking fiber of his being, with every cell in his body. All of it was yours, every heartbeat of his was dedicated to you. You were a major part of why he wanted to keep being Spiderman, so he could protect you. 

So he could shield you away from any harm or danger. 

And yet, he still couldn’t save you. 

He started to feel suffocated as he punched the floor with his fists, almost cracking it in the process. 

He was so goddamn furious at himself. 

He felt like the biggest fucking coward in the entire universe. 

If only, if only he had mustered even the slightest of courage to tell you of how he felt, then this wouldn't have happened. You'd still be alive. 

Miles was now wailing in anger and pain that he couldn’t even begin to describe. 

The realization has finally started to kick in. 

He had lost you. 

You suffered alone because you thought your love for him was unrequited and would never have been returned. 

You didn’t believe in the possibility. But oh how wrong you were.

You didn't see the passion, love, and admiration in his eyes whenever he looked at you. You failed to notice the little things he did for you, like remembering your favorite things, or bringing you to your favorite places.

How he would pluck flowers from the school garden and gave it to you, or maybe even the times where he'd let you copy his answers on a test.

You just thought he was such a good friend.

If only… If only the both of you have tried a bit harder. Maybe then, it didn’t have to end this way.

Fin.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

[cure-stars]

"but you see......this is where my story ends."

"then, let's start it―― right now! your next story!"

as if you're opening a present every second.

as if i'm searching for a star that's still unknown to anyone. 🎪

[kittycatcorner]

shows up to give you the coffinchain challenge

Please be more careful when you cross the road You’re a perfect arrangement of rickety bones

Stray cats.

Peter had always likened the apprentices to a group of stray cats, in his mind.

At first it was out of distaste. They were a nuisance; a band of drifters slinking around the alleyways, catching their quarries unaware. The quick, sharp jab of a hypodermic needle might as well have been the efficient killing bite that a cat might deliver to the throat of its prey. They worked in the shadows, occupying all of those lonely abandoned buildings and reworking them for a new, twisted purpose. 

Then, begrudgingly, he’d found himself wrapped up in Mark Hoffman. Chasing him, hunting him, hellbent on bringing him to justice, then on killing him, then on understanding him, then…

Well, Peter didn’t know what he was doing now. 

All he knew was that sitting in his apartment, in varying states of composure, were three of Jigsaw’s disciples. 

Dr. Gordon sat on his couch, eyes trained down as his hands worked on bandaging a fresh wound on the arm of his younger accomplice. Stanheight sat quietly and allowed for the medical attention with little fight. Hoffman himself sat on the floor, back leaned against the couch close to the other two. 

Peter remained standing, trying not to buckle at the absurdity of his situation. In true stray-animal nature, he had made the mistake of allowing Hoffman into his home once, twice, thrice, and now he’d come back with friends. 

‘Don’t feed the strays’, indeed. 

Accept that he did know the other two, at this point. The polite Dr. Gordon was well-spoken and direct; Peter had found him infuriating in the beginning. He was a hard man to interrogate and an even harder man to intimidate, as level and unflinching as he was. Unlike Peter, he never seemed to let his anger get the best of him, and he seemed to know that. Dr. Gordon was a man who always seemed very aware of how much more control he had in the conversation. It was enviable. 

Then there was Adam Faulkner-Stanheight. Mouthful of a name. It was strange enough for Peter to wrap his head around the fact that the kid was alive, let alone working with Jigsaw. He was angry- had more rage in his scrawny little body than what felt possible. Stupid and impulsive, Peter had found him annoying. Just a petulant adolescent who had gotten himself into bigger trouble than he yet realized. 

They’ve come a long way since then. Both apprentices had grown on him, maybe because they reminded him of himself in their amalgamate qualities. The cold, callous bluntness of the doctor. The white-hot temper of the kid. The way he had never seen the former so gentle nor the latter so complacent until now, as they patched themselves together on his bloodied furniture. 

Peter had been reluctant to welcome them all inside. It was bad enough to shelter one serial killer, but now three? It reminded him that everything he’s been doing as of late is against what he once stood for. Fuck, it would solve a hell of a lot of his own problems if he didn't care. If he’d let them all rot, make them regret thinking that Peter would risk his own hide just because he's been friendly with them. Dr. Gordon and Stanheight had seemed to understand this too. Their expressions had been apprehensive, looking ready to flee like the animals they were. Peter wonders how long ago he would have given chase. 

Hoffman had spoken, then. 

“I didn’t-” His voice was shot and exhausted. “I didn’t know where else to go, Strahm.” 

And just like that, Peter took them in. Those words were all it took. Hoffman limped inside on a bad leg and described some sort of police-raid, premature. John Kramer and Amanda Young hadn’t even been there, so it had just been the trio, and they were forced to flee. Unable to go far on foot in their current state, Hoffman had brought his injured companions here. To Peter. 

Why did that make something strange stir within him? 

The three of them were soaked to the bone from the rain. Peter watched Hoffman sluggishly attempt to remain alert, but every so often his head would lull and come to rest against the soft thigh of Dr. Gordon. If the doctor noticed it, he didn't say a word as he continued to diligently work. He looked tired. Stanheight was putting on the best brave face he could manage, but Peter’s keen eyes caught his shoulders trembling, only eased when Gordon’s hand came to rest on one and rubbed gently. They all looked so tired. 

Unable to watch any longer, Peter finally broke the silence. 

“So why are you still doing this?” It took everything in him to not fidget idly as he spoke, brows furrowed at the three men. 

All eyes were on him quite suddenly, sharp as they regarded him. Three clever pairs of observant eyes that all screamed out ‘I know more than I’m letting on' to Peter. He held their gazes, muscled arms crossed over his chest. 

“You know what I’m talking about.” He scoffed, lip curling. “What’s the point of doing the old man's dirty work when he just lets things like this happen to you?” 

Silence.

Hoffman broke first. He laughed, eyes closing as he rested more fully against the couch. It was good-natured but ultimately dismissive. 

Dr. Gordon frowned at Peter, one brow quirked as if he had asked them something incredibly naive. Like he expected Peter to know already. 

Stanheight didn't react. Not outwardly, anyways. He only stared, something new and strange glittering in his eyes that Peter couldn't place.

“What,” Peter grit his teeth, an edge to his voice. Less of a question and more of a prompt. 

“Nothing, nothing. Apologies, Mr. Strahm.” Gordon sighed, turning his attention back to his handiwork. He appeared to nearly be done with the worst of Stanheight’s injuries now. “It’s just… not that simple.”

“Not exactly the kinda job you can put your two weeks in for.” Hoffman corroborated, a smirk tugging at his full lips. 

Peter felt his face burn hot, and he huffed in frustration. “You fucking- Don’t play dumb. Don’t act like it’s a stupid question. I’ll throw you back out onto the fucking curb.” He jabbed a finger at Hoffman in particular, who for his part did indeed shut his mouth. “You listening? Good. What I’m saying is that John Kramer is one demented old man. What is actually stopping you?” 

This time, the quiet was punctuated by Hoffman and Gordon exchanging an uncomfortable glance. After a moment, Hoffman shrugged and ran one hand through his damp, messy hair. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of, uh, checks ‘n balances.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow skeptically. Hoffman continued. 

“Information is power, etcetera. Kramer keeps basically everything on a need-to-know basis. Including, I dunno, who you’re workin’ with half the time. Hell,” He rolled his eyes, and lazily raised a hand behind his head to pat Gordon’s arm. The doctor made an annoyed noise in response, shifting away from him. “He only told me about these lovebirds when he needed help lookin’ after ‘em.” 

“I’m still mad about missing out on a trip to Mexico.” Stanheight quipped. His voice was softer than normal, but Peter supposed it was a good sign that he was speaking at all. He wasn’t used to the younger man being so quiet. 

Gordon straightened up a moment later, gently patting down the new bandages and brushing some of the hair from Stanheight’s face. “There you go.” He sighed. The warmth in his tone was so palpable that Peter had the distinct feeling it wasn’t meant for his ears. Despite being in his own apartment, he somehow felt he was intruding. “Get comfortable, alright?” 

Peter watched as Stanheight pulled himself to his feet, stopping short just a little ways away from him with an awkward shuffle. Gordon patted his thigh and spoke his next words like they took all of his energy to say. 

“Your turn.” He didn’t even bother to look at Hoffman. The detective grinned anyways, wasting no time in clamoring up into Gordon’s personal space and slinging his leg across the man’s lap. Gordon shook his head disdainfully, but carefully began rolling back Hoffman’s torn pant leg anyways. 

Peter guessed he wasn’t the only one that Hoffman lived to irritate.

“Christ, Mark.” Gordon sucked in a sharp breath, and Peter’s shoulders stiffened as he took a step forward to look. His stomach sank despite himself; from where he was standing Hoffman’s calf looked like a bloody mess. Peter’s a man who’s seen more gore in his line of work than anyone should hope to see in their lifetime, and yet here he is, staring in alarm. It was unlike him, and woefully he could only attribute his own uneasiness to the owner of the calf. 

As if he could read his mind, Hoffman looked up towards Peter. “Hey, it’s just-” He winced, hissing in pain as Gordon began to clean the wound. “It’s no big deal- no bullet inside. Just grazed me.” 

“You were shot?” Peter balked.

“Grazed,” Hoffman corrected. 

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose in a quick-rising frustration. Hoffman was impossible. 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Gordon’s voice was little more than a growl as he spoke through gritted teeth. “You took an unnecessary risk. Do you think I enjoy patching you back together? Honestly, if I didn't know any better I’d assume you were trying to get your sorry self killed.” 

Dr. Gordon’s tone left the detective bristling. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” He scoffed. “Hell, I don’t bother you when you’re workin’ in the sickbay. Why don't you just- fuck!” 

Hoffman yelped at the unceremonious splash of disinfectant. Gordon gave him the sort of well-practiced fake smile that only a doctor could.

“My bad,” he murmured, unapologetic. 

Peter decided he’d seen enough. He turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, telling himself that he was just stepping aside to get ice in case the doctor needed some. He knew it wasn't the truth, though; he scolded himself quietly as he leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his graying hair. 

The truth was that he couldn't keep standing there, staring at Hoffman’s leg injury. 

It’s ironic, because it feels like not too long ago that Peter would have done anything to put a bullet in Hoffman. Now the thought makes him feel… queasy. And a bit confused. 

Peter found himself comparing the apprentices to strays again.

He couldn’t get the image of roadkill splattered on the side of the highway out of his head. 

From what he knew of John Kramer and his cult, the apprentices were expendable parts. It doesn't even sound like they can trust each other half the time. One wrong move or fatal mistake would be all it took. Peter wasn't even sure how long it would take him to know something had happened. 

His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps so quiet that he knew exactly who they belonged to before turning around. Stanheight stood at the entryway of his bare-bones kitchen, watching him. He’s probably spent the least amount of time alone with him. 

“What is it?” Peter’s frown deepened.

The kid didn't answer immediately, instead coming to lean against the wall beside him. He was quiet for a moment, and then shrugged. 

“Wanted to check on you, I guess.” He answered simply. 

“Check on me? In what way do I need checking on?” Raising a brow, Peter gestured towards the living room. “Look at you three, for fuck’s sake.” 

Stanheight held his hands up defensively. “Hey, hey, I just- I get it, alright?”

Peter didn't know what that meant. He stared down at the shorter man, scowl ever-present, silently prodding him to elaborate. Stanheight’s expression was… almost sympathetic, but his eyes had that same strange look from before: the one that Peter couldn't place. 

The kid was easy to underestimate, Peter knew it from his file and from his current involvement. He wasn't about to make that mistake with him. 

“Sucks, doesn't it?” Stanheight finally said. He was muttering now, glancing once over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone. “One thing to know what they're doing and another to see them come back with blood and bits of their skin hanging off.”

Peter felt his stomach turn. “No,” he lied. “If Hoffman’s gonna be reckless and get himself killed then so be it.” 

“No matter what you or anyone else thinks, I’m not stupid.” Stanheight laughed dryly. “You don't gotta lie to me, okay? I’m on team Peter here.” 

“Are we forgetting that you’re one of ‘them’ too?” Peter steeled his gaze, unamused. 

Stanheight grimaced. “I mean- kind of. Not really.”

“‘Not really?’ What’s that mean?” 

“I- like- like I’m with them but I’m not one of them. Old Johnny-boy has never and will never give a shit about me. Not exactly in the running to be his heir or whatever the others think will happen.” Stanheight huffed, rolling his eyes as he explained. “Pretty sure he wouldn't even notice if I went missing if it weren't for the pictures ‘n schedules I go and get for him.”

Peter is quiet for a moment. 

“Why stick around?” He asked softly, already knowing the answer. 

The kid just snorted in lieu of answering, and the two fell into silence once more for a couple of seconds. 

“Glad that Mark has you.” Stanheight suddenly murmured, thoughtful. 

“He does not ‘have me’.” 

“Maybe you can knock some sense into him.” 

Peter scoffed, looking elsewhere. “You’re frustrating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Stanheight laughed, “I’m not kidding, though. It always freaks me out how Mark gets when he’s like…” 

Raising a brow, Peter waited for him to sort out his thoughts. 

“Like, when he gets hurt, right? He just- just runs off. Or he’ll go and get hammered on the other side of town and when we find him he’s a mess.” 

At that, Peter’s shoulders went rigid. He was aware of Mark’s habits, his unhealthy coping mechanism. He hadn't thought about who else might know, how deeply it might run. He hadn't thought about how often Mark must be alone. 

When he looked back at Stanheight, he realized the kid was staring at him intently. There was concern in his expression, but also something fierce. 

“John’s really messed him up. Worse than he was before all of this.” His voice was low, almost cautious. “All of them. Lawrence, Mark, Mandy, none of them deserve this. You know that, right?”

Peter’s mouth felt dry. “I…” 

Straightening up again, Stanheight stepped closer to Peter. Before he could see it coming, a smaller hand took his own and held it, inspecting it. “I think Mark needs you.” He said, “maybe all of us do. So you gotta take care of yourself too.” 

Something confused seemed to bloom in his chest then, an uncertain warmth that he could feel rise up to his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he couldn't decide on anything to say. 

“Just think about it, ‘kay?” Stanheight let go of his hand again and started to leave the kitchen, pausing for just a moment to look back at him. “Oh, one more thing.” 

“What is it?” Peter’s voice was hoarse. 

Stanheight gave him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. “Welcome to the family.” 

Then he was gone, Peter’s protest to that statement dying on his lips, and Peter was left to think on everything he said. 

Hoffman needing him. Hoffman hiding himself away in dark corners to nurse his wounds. Improperly set bones and too much bandage. 

Stray cats.

Peter’s family used to have cats. His sister’s cat had been an old, white, raggedy thing that she named Alfredo. When Alfredo passed away, he had hidden under the bed and refused to come out. Peter thinks he remembers reading somewhere that pets do that on purpose, so their humans don't have to see them die, but it's been years and his animal knowledge is limited. 

Peter wondered how hard it is to socialize a stray cat. To reintroduce it to domesticity. 

He stepped out of the kitchen, lingering at the entryway, and watched the apprentices from where he stood. Gordon seemed to have finished with Hoffman’s leg, speaking to him in a quieter tone than before. To his surprise, Hoffman looked like he was listening. Stanheight was on the couch with them now, leaning his head onto Gordon’s shoulder. 

Peter found that he wished he could freeze this moment with the three of them in it. The bubble of safety that was his living room felt far away from everything Jigsaw. Maybe they were always meant to be here, on soft furniture, and not crouching amongst rusted pipes and jagged metal. 

Tamed. Domesticated. 

He sighed through his nose and walked around the couch, three sets of clever eyes on him again as he caught their attention. Now that he was there, he could see that Dr. Gordon had just begun to wrap up Hoffman’s leg and he silently motioned to ask for the gauze, kneeling down between them.

Understanding the gesture, Gordon handed it over, smiling at Peter warmly enough to raise his body temperature by a degree. 

“Strahm-” Hoffman started, bewildered, but Peter simply began wrapping his leg neatly. 

“Shut up.” He grunted. “Let me help you, stupid.”

[kradogsrats]

Schrödinger's King in the Bird Box

Time for a return to the single topic that most torments me in this entire franchise canon: is Harrow in the goddamn bird or not?

Except not really. I'm not going to go over the evidence again. I've done it before. Almost everyone has done it before. It has only gotten stronger. At the absolute minimum, an attempt was made to put Harrow in the bird. That's not really disputable. I admit it. It's over.

This is actually the second time that I've struggled with narrative cognitive dissonance regarding a real core factor of this show (like not "what's the deal with Archdragon reproduction," but something that is clearly supposed to be thought about with the intent that it will eventually make sense), and eventually managed to rotate it so hard in my mind that the way I wanted to see it slipped out of my grasp and I saw it the way it's actually intended. Ironically, I think I may have been thinking about the Ocean arcanum at the time.

Anyway, what previously always bothered me about this question was mainly two things:

It would have a devastating impact on Ezran's character development if Harrow reappeared during s1-s3, but the timeskip and arc of s4-s5 made it so it would also be deeply weird for him to reappear before the show ends.

If Harrow is in Pip's body, both Viren and Pip's subsequent behavior, as well as how Pip is treated by the narrative on a meta level, make absolutely no fucking sense.

But... if Viren doesn't know whether the spell was successful or not? If we are meant to not know whether the spell was successful or not, because it's not going to get resolved in the show itself?

If we accept that the earliest point with any chance of the hooks for this plot being set is late s7—because yes, Aaron Ehasz would do an exact beat-for-beat repeat of Zuko and his mom—that both puts Ezran far enough in his growth for it not to be threatened by the "real" king returning, and keeps Harrow out of the loop for long enough that it doesn't really make sense for him to do anything but step down from the throne in favor of Ezran, anyway. As for Viren and Pip's behavior, if the show isn't going to advance that plot much further during its runtime, there's no reason for us to be constantly reminded of it. The setup has been made, and they can just let it stew because it's not actually relevant.

That being said, Viren's behavior actually does make a lot of sense if "is Harrow in the goddamn bird or not" is a question that is also tormenting him. To that end, I'll be doing some digging here on the nature and context of the body-switching spell, Pip/Harrow's behavior post-swap, and what the hell is going on in the Harrow section of Viren's dark magic dream.

The Spell is Made Up (Unlike All Those Real Spells)

First of all, I think there's been some long-term incorrect assumptions made about the body-switching spell. It's not a known spell: this is Claudia and Viren essentially flying by the seat of their pants... but we rarely stop to think about how that contextualizes the rest of the discussion around it.

The initial plan is to find the assassins and ambush them before nightfall. As Soren points out and Viren himself confirms: if they fail, the assassins will be unstoppable under the full moon and Harrow is as good as dead. Claudia decides to put her mind to that problem, so naturally she stops to flirt with Callum in the library and gets the inspiration for the spell from something he says.

(Fun fact: none of that happens in the novelization. Zero amount.)

She brings the idea to Viren, and they develop the spell from there. It's not really clear if Claudia actually knows whether something like that would be possible, but Viren does know that transferring the essence of a person can be done—he's got a nice little coin collection that proves it.

As for the snake, there's no way Viren "acquired" a two-headed soulfang serpent because he has a book somewhere on how to use a rare, malformed specimen of a dangerous Xadian creature to switch people between bodies. He probably thought "that's weird, but could be useful," or maybe whoever sold it to him just had a great sales pitch. A non-trivial amount of success at dark magic is in having access to rarer and more powerful reagents than your competition.

Anyway, what this means is that Viren has absolutely no idea what success looks like for this spell, particularly when using it on subjects of different species. When he describes it to Harrow, he is 110% talking out of his ass. He sounds like he knows exactly what the spell will do and how, and I think a lot of us kind of fell for that. He needs to sound confident, because if he admitted that he doesn't know if it will even work, with a possible failure condition of "snake eats your soul," well... a) Harrow rightfully wouldn't go for it, and b) he'd look incompetent, which is the worst thing ever.

When he goes to Harrow's room, he casts the spell... but did it work? I think that whatever it did, it did it in a way that Viren can't tell whether it worked or not. Maybe both Harrow and Pip passed out. Maybe Viren just didn't want to hang around for the aftermath—in the novelization, when he exits the room and runs into Callum, his eyes are still black from spellcasting.

Activities of Dr. Pip Harrow, Ph.D.

Probably the thing that has always bothered me the most about the entire Harrow-Pip theory is that yes, literally everything in the lead-up and immediate aftermath of the assassination points to that being exactly what happened... and then the narrative lens of the show completely drops the rope. Pip doesn't even appear in the novelization until Viren's pre-coronation scene, which is funny given his looming presence over half the scenes with Harrow in the show.

Pip appears exactly twice after the assassination—once in s1 and once in s2—otherwise he goes completely ignored. He's not in the background of Viren's office, or the throne room, or Harrow's bedroom. No one ever mentions him ever again. Ezran never mentions him again, in the show or in any supplementary materials. You'd think the boy who can talk to animals might have some interest in his dead dad's beloved pet... but who knows, maybe Pip has always been an asshole and Ezran's actually like "thank goodness I never have to speak to that dude again."

Anyway, in all of Pip's appearances, he behaves like... a bird. A trained bird—Harrow can rely on him not just fucking off—but he doesn't demonstrate human-like intelligence the way Bait does. That being said, Bait is essentially a main-cast character (at least as much as, say, Corvus... maybe even Soren) while Pip is a plot device, and even then it takes until well into the first arc for Bait to show the kind of complex reasoning and initiative that separates him from an unusually smart dog. Pip's human is also a stressed-out king, rather than a rambunctious ten-year-old, so he's probably a bit more sedate overall. I would personally bet, given the way the show has progressed with regard to Xadian creatures, that Pip is as intelligent as Bait.

The point of that is: even if Harrow's consciousness is occupying Pip's body, he's not really doing anything with it. He's pissy, sure:

But is that Harrow's pissy-ness or Pip's? Even if Pip is only as intelligent as a trainable bird, that's plenty intelligent enough for both grieving/confusion that their human is gone and holding a grudge against obvious assholes. Viren cages him, but is that because he flipped out and got bite-y? And was it Harrow flipping out, or Pip? Or is he caged just because Viren's of the general attitude that animals belong in cages? Those who fail tests of love... We just don't know.

A lot of us also, to circle back to assumptions about the spell, have tended to think of a body swap between Harrow and Pip resulting in Harrow flailing his arms around wildly and screeching... but again, we know literally nothing about this spell, nor do we actually know anything about Harrow's behavior after Viren leaves his room. Maybe his body sat catatonic on the bed until Runaan came in and shot him. Maybe Pip, being intelligent, was able to maintain the facade—once everyone's in the heat of battle, it would be hard to notice even significant deviations from normal behavior. Even if "Harrow" appeared to fight only halfheartedly, or give up entirely... well, he hasn't been the same since he lost Sarai. Maybe the spell only partially worked, and only half of his soul is inside Pip, with minimal or no influence over the bird body's behavior.

Viren does appear to take some precautions in case Harrow is alive inside Pip. The cage, for one... but he also has nearly all subsequent important conversations outside of his office. Like I said earlier, Pip's cage isn't rendered in the background of any scene, but since he escapes from Viren's office I'm assuming that's where he's been. Even if Pip was just out of frame in every scene in Viren's office post-assassination through end of s2, the only things he's seen are... Viren eating butterflies, and the conversation between Viren and Claudia about the mirror and her side mission to bring the egg back at all costs. He doesn't know about Soren's instructions to murder the boys. He knows about the mirror and Viren's obsession with it (which he could have known before), but he doesn't know about Aaravos. He may know that Viren stole his seal but only if Viren was stupid enough to stamp the letters with it in front of him (which... look, he could be). The only things he's really learned are that a) his sons are alive, and b) Viren lied to him and the egg is alive.

Now, realistically, if we were meant to hang on to the is-Harrow-in-the-bird plot thread because it's going to be significant within the scope of the show... I'd be expecting to see at least one cut to Pip glowering at some point during all these machinations. If it weren't for the mirror and Aaravos, I'd expect Viren to be yelling all his monologuing at Pip, too. But the show does none of that. Instead, the next time we see Pip, we see him peace-ing out of the show for at minimum the next three seasons, and possibly the remaining two, as well. If Harrow's in there... why? Did he go to find Callum and Ezran himself? It's not actually clear that he knows Ezran can understand animals, so it would be reasonable for him to think Viren is his only chance at ever not being a bird again. Maybe he thinks that chance is gone with Viren's arrest and would rather not spend the rest of his life in a cage. Maybe he really isn't in control of the body.

Back to Viren, though: since Pip refuses to demonstrate any behavior that could be taken as distinctly Harrow's, Viren actually has no idea at any point whether Harrow's in there or not. He doesn't know if Harrow lived. He doesn't know if he succeeded or failed. It's a constant reminder that he's almost, but not quite, in control. Almost, but not quite, good enough to achieve what he wants.

It probably drives him absolutely insane.

Did You Think You Were Somehow Getting Out of This Without Me Mentioning Kpp'Ar?

Just kidding, it's finally time to talk about Viren's dream. We've gone two entire seasons and a two-year timeskip without any mention of Harrow or Pip (though those maniacs dropped the fucking snake basket on us as an incidental but obvious prop early in s4), and then suddenly we get punched in the face by Viren's subconscious.

First, though, I do actually need to point something out in the scene with Kpp'Ar. Bear with me, I promise this is relevant.

Viren sealed Kpp'Ar's soul in a coin 12-ish years ago, and the coin has been sitting collecting dust in his secret dungeon for... some amount of that time. Now he opens the door and finds Kpp'Ar standing there, free—and I will note that I don't believe Viren actually knows how to free people from the coins, or whether it can even be done. His reaction is surprise, followed by suspicion and wariness:

When he encounters Harrow—dead—his reaction is horrified shock, which is fair since the last time he entered the room that way there was no surprise body chilling out waiting for him in it:

Then, when Harrow speaks to him, suddenly alive and unharmed, he drops straight into relief:

Some of this is undoubtedly due to the differences between Viren's relationship with Kpp'Ar and his relationship with Harrow. With Kpp'Ar, after that initial moment of confusion, he's absolutely determined to not show a single hint of ignorance or weakness—this is a trick, or a test, and a passing grade in "light verbal sparring with the mentor you're pretty sure you remember betraying" is a thing that is both normal to want and possible to achieve. For Harrow, who he wants so desperately to call him brother, who he walked into this very room ready to die for, before everything went horribly awry—he not only immediately and willingly goes to his knees, he literally prostrates himself.

... I'll give everyone a moment to get all the innuendo and suggestiveness out of their systems, because that's not the point. This time.

What is the point is that Viren's reaction to Harrow isn't disbelief, but relief. Hope. Kpp'Ar is supposed to be in a coin, and Viren immediately questions how he got out. Harrow is supposed to be dead but Viren doesn't give a second thought to how he's not. Fortunately, Harrow helpfully explains:

Fun fact: back in s1, we don't actually see Viren actually taking action against the assassins. We don't even see evidence that he re-entered the room at all—it's only Soren and Claudia who participate in Runaan's capture.

I haven't actually touched a lot on the complex shit going on for Viren, emotionally, throughout all of this—I mentioned it's was probably driving Viren insane over the course of the first two seasons, but let me elaborate. If Viren successfully switched Harrow and Pip, that means Harrow survived... but he expressed his feelings on the proposal in no uncertain terms, and there's a good chance he will literally never forgive Viren. I don't think Viren thought far enough ahead to consider how to get Harrow into a human body again, but I do think he's dragging his feet on it a little because if he can work things to his advantage—unite the Pentarchy against Xadia and follow through on the war Harrow was avoiding—he'll prove to Harrow that he was right all along. Any chance of that flies out the window with Pip at the end of s2.

If the body-switching spell failed, it means Viren essentially killed Harrow himself. That's the reality I think he grows more and more resigned to over the course of s1 and s2, when Pip remains unresponsive. He had no choice but to take the best chance at saving someone he loved—but this time, instead of saving Harrow, he murdered him.

In the dream, Harrow has not only survived, but credits Viren with his survival. He doesn't just dismiss Viren's show of remorse, but makes his own apology to Viren. He calls Viren brother. After an impossibly long nightmare, everything is okay. All is forgiven. Maybe there was nothing to forgive, in the first place. Maybe Viren was right all along.

Then it all turns sinister with the callback to the coin incantation, and we have a sharp return to reality:

The cinematography here treats Pip a lot more like how I would expect him to be treated in s1/s2 if we were meant to know he was actually Harrow. There's focus actually on him, instead of just other characters' reaction to him. He "speaks"—as I noted in another post—in raspy sounds very unlike his songbird chirps from s1. This is absolutely Harrow as Viren actually left him—even if he's not dead, he's in a warped prison of dark magic, a perverse mockery of himself.

Oh wait.

Harrow-who-is-both-human-and-alive was never an option, and what we've got now is mirror images of Harrow-the-dead-human and Harrow-the-live-bird, and they're going to do to Viren what he did to them.

Now, it's not that none of this makes sense if Viren knows for sure that Harrow is in the bird... but it makes a lot less sense and has less emotional resonance. If Viren knows Harrow survived as Pip, he'd be more likely to question Harrow's human form than his survival—the way he does with Kpp'Ar. He might be more guarded, expecting hostility—which, I will note, is what he gets when Pip enters the scene. Instead, because until now he believed that he actually killed Harrow in his attempt to save him, he's so relieved to see Harrow alive that for that one moment he loses all pride and is ready to beg for forgiveness at Harrow's feet.

Since legitimately none of this makes sense if Viren didn't at least attempt to put Harrow in the bird, we're left with Harrow maybe or maybe not alive, Viren having maybe or maybe not been the one to actually kill him (gonna be a fun one with the Runaan context), and a plotline that is definitely not going to be resolved in the remaining two seasons of the show. I'd be kind of surprised if they even did any more setup for it (like Callum/Ezran finding out it's a possibility, or even a hint drop like Runaan being all "it was fucking weird, he just sat there" or something) outside of future supplemental media.

Conclusion

Either Harrow is alive and in the bird, with the future intent being to do a spinoff story The Search-style, or we're in for a huge bummer of a "actually, it was Viren all along who killed Harrow, therefore Runaan is a good guy and we can all be one happy family" pile of absolute bullshit. Yes, they said Harrow's dead. Harrow's body is dead, we knew that all along. There's a note in the artbook that Viren was actually going to rip the shroud off at Harrow's funeral in order to publicly prove it's his body, because that is an extremely normal thing to do.

The show just treats it extremely weirdly because, even as the only person with any chance of knowing, Viren is in the same uncertain boat as the rest of us. (Actually more uncertain than the rest of us, since he's not genre-aware.) Also it's another chance to torment Viren emotionally, and they'd never pass that up.

Thanks for coming to my absolutely ridiculous TED Talk on this topic, I hope this screenshot now does as much psychic damage to you as it does to me:

[deoidesign]

Hello! I just discovered your blog and I immediately became captivated by your webcomic, but I'm unsure where to read all of it. I know it's on Webtoons, but I can see it hasn't been updated for a while, and you still post about it.

Are your physical novels just prints of the webcomic? Are they a continuation? Is the story complete? Thanks in advance!

Hi there!

Glad you found me and are enjoying my comic!

It's only on webtoons, and the story is not complete yet! We're 2/3 of the way through right now. It's currently on hiatus, and it's scheduled to come back in about 2 months!

I'll explain why it's been so long if you're curious, but also for my followers who might also be wondering about it under the cut. Sorry, it's pretty much just me complaining haha

I took a month off I took 2 months to get the books printed I took a month to prepare my next comic and I took 2 months to write the rest of the series (I knew the character arcs I wanted, but not the time periods or mysteries!!!) I've been working on actual episodes since then

I had to take some time off because of some pretty extreme burnout due to the sheer amount of work it was to draw over 800 pages and write 6 complete stories in a year and a half... I was getting sick almost weekly due to the overwork, it was really really bad honestly. I was having to work 60+ hours every week just to keep up...

The nature of the comic itself is also difficult... Each of the arcs is a complete, self contained story which can be read (ideally) without context, and my arcs need to be about 10-13 episodes each... And since I have an exact number of episodes to work with, it's even harder.

It takes a ton of planning and a ton of refinement, and working week to week with no breaks I was forced to put out second or even first drafts, so I just wasn't happy with the work I was doing... And to do that for the rest of the series? I wouldn't be proud of the work I did.

Plus... To be entirely honest, webtoon has treated me quite badly IN MY OPINION... They deprioritized me before I launched (I had to beg for more promotion, I'm not exaggerating), they outright denied me the opportunity to even ask for a raise, I don't make any money on fast pass and they pay me less than my partner makes working at trader joes. My first editor left me completely hanging, my second editor (who I loved) was fired... And they told me I wouldn't get a third season before my first season even finished. So it was just repeatedly completely demoralizing.

I'm sorry it has taken so long, it'll have been 10 months by the time I come back. But I realized... I won't get promotion either way. I won't get more episodes either way. I won't get more money either way. So to finish everything, to make it feel good, to make it something I'm proud of, I chose to take longer to make it better.

I am fully aware I will lose a significant amount of my readership for this and it might genuinely affect my career moving forward. But it's what I had to do! So I'm sticking to my guns on it, and I'm confident long term it'll be worth it. It never could have been this good if I didn't take this much time.

[chenouttachen]

i'm ending my episode 3 rewatch with some alanjeff feels (who's surprised). alan and jeff are set up as soulmates from the very beginning and this episode is such a perfect example of why they work.

there aren't any romantic feelings yet, not really. alan is perplexed and intrigued by jeff, and jeff has definitely seen some life changing visions, but romance hasn't entered the picture. it's here though that they begin to see each other as equals.

not once but twice in this episode alan is able to have open, honest conversations with jeff that he seems reluctant to have with anyone else. and this is, in part, due to jeff's work ethic and presence.

the first conversation takes place long after the garage is closed for the day - alan is working late because he's stressed about money and jeff is working late because he's, well, jeff. but jeff is able to tell immediately that alan is frazzled. having thought he's alone in the garage, alan has let his guard down, his emotions showing plain on his face and jeff is quick to pick up on this.

at first alan is embarrassed to be called out. he works very hard to present a calm and competent front to the rest of x-hunter and takes his role as leader very seriously. he's honest with his team, lets them know there's some trouble with red racing and sponsorships but he never lets them see how much it's truly weighing on him. and here's this kid who's been working at the garage for a week and can see right through him. it would be so easy for him to laugh it off or walk away, but he doesn't. and jeff, for his part, does shovel noodles into his mouth as if doing that can take the words back. he too could leave at any moment, but he stays.

instead, jeff chooses to speak to alan as an adult. in his short time at x-hunter he's already read the older man enough to know that he values his team's independence and freedom in the industry. alan is surprised by jeff's knowledge of sponsorship deals but doesn't shut him down or say he's got it covered. he listens to what jeff has to say and finds himself in agreement, affirming that jeff has read him correctly.

and then alan continues to let himself be vulnerable. he voices his anxiety that he isn't enough, that he alone can't keep x-hunter afloat. he wonders whether sending babe back to tony is the right thing to do, not because he thinks it would make them happy, but because it might ensure that babe has a stable family. and jeff takes a moment here. he could choose to agree and walk away, but instead he too lets himself be vulnerable, just for a moment. as an audience, we don't know what jeff has faced, but we (and alan) do know what babe has been through, and we know it's a terrible idea to send him back. when jeff tells alan that family isn't always the safest place to be, we sympathise with babe and his story, but jeff's words are heavy. his expression is carefully controlled but there's enough weight to his words that alan picks up on it. he wonders how this boy knows this, why he speaks from experience, how someone so young could speak with so much authority. but he doesn't question jeff, doesn't push. and jeff rewards him with clumsy but genuine comfort. he reasures alan that x-hunter are with him because they want to be, because they trust in alan and his care for them. as an outsider, jeff senses the warmth and connection of this team, this family, and although he doesn't yet see a place for himself there, he too trusts in alan. and alan is warmed by this, settled. there's something about jeff that makes him feel safe and seen.

and jeff continues to see alan at his most vulnerable. the next moment is after his conversation with dean, when guilt and regret are eating him up after shutting down the young racer.

once again, jeff cares. he senses the emotion rolling off of alan and checks to make sure he's... okay? but jeff has caught him in one of his less than stellar moments but alan is not initially prepared to be seen. he snaps at first, a defense mechanism and jeff is quick to look away. but he isn't scared of alan, and he doesn't leave. he just looks back at his work and lets alan come to him.

when alan does return to his side, no longer irate, but lost in thought, jeff continues their previous conversations about money. he doesn't question him about dean, doesn't focus on what's obviously a sore spot; he makes sure to centre on something with a clear solution. jeff doesn't beat around the bush. he's blunt and to the point, telling alan that he needs to use his brain and get his shit together. and once again, alan rolls with this. he's invested in the conversation, doesn't treat jeff like a child, and listens intently. he even lets himself get a little sulky, lets jeff see another side to him. when jeff offers him a plausible solution, a way forward, he does so by guiding alan gently. he doesn't tell him outright what to do, doesn't force alan into anything. but jeff knows how much alan cares about his team, about how much he wants to be the one to save them, and he lets alan reach the final conclusion himself. and when he does, alan is ecstatic, responding with physical affection that he cannot contain. we don't know what jeff sees when alan kisses his head, but by the way he leaves swiftly, it's safe to assume his vision hinted at their future relationship.

there's an inherent power imbalance built into their relationship: alan is far older than jeff and his boss, but both of these conversations set them up to be equals. jeff never treats alan as his boss; he's blunt with him, isn't afraid to tell him when he's wrong, and navigates the work space as he wants to. and, for the most part, alan doesn't treat jeff like a child. aside from the nicknames, alan speaks to him as he would anyone else. yes, alan is a natural caregiver and his instincts tell him to take care of jeff, but he never pushes that on him. even before their romance blossoms, alan finds that he can let himself be vulnerable with jeff and be comforted without feeling guilty. and, for the first time since charlie, jeff has someone that he can (slowly) be himself with.

they have a long way to go, but alan and jeff are building the foundations of their relationship with tentative but sturdy bricks.

[can-of-slorgs]

caw 🦅

[lunarharp]

into the deep end - 30k T orufrey fic, focusing on memory trauma, disability, and romance.

the sweet oblivion of the victim, the poisoned freedom of the other.

for one moment - it had felt like two parts returned - the needed reunion of two disparate halves. no more secrets, no more pain.

the moment you get to give back what you never wanted to take. that moment, under the night-blooming flowers, when they had both let out the same single broken sigh of relief.

but they were never whole to begin with, were they?

qifrey swore he wouldn't say 'sorry' to this man any more if he could help it - sorry is cheap now. he didn't want to be in a position ever again where you only have 'sorry' left. so he just looks down into the threads of his blanket, strains his eye until it hurts, feeling his insides - his throat, heart and head - burn with pain. he expects more, but olly says nothing.

olly says nothing.

[zylphiacrowley]

What is Suikoden about? :>

Ohhhhh hohohohoho Meg, you have no idea what you've done (I'm sorry this is going to get wordy... I just really love this series so so much).

So all the mainline Suikoden games (plus Suikogaiden I&II which are visual novels) take place in the same universe, some years apart. All the games have war as a main central conflict, but you usually play as a young "unnamed" protagonist (technically all the heros have like manga canon names iirc), with the exception of Suikoden III which took on a tritagonist situation where you switch between three main heros and then you make a decision about halfway through the game which one you want to be the "main" hero (as a bonus you also get to play the story from the "villain's" perspective as well if certain conditions are met). The series is based on the classic Chinese novel, The Water Margin (perhaps rather losely. I own the novel but I haven't actually ever gotten that far into reading it OTL).

One major important part of the story is the runes system, which is essentially the magic system. There's many runes that you can just straight up buy from vendors in the game, but then there are also 27 "True" runes, which are super powerful, and usually come with built in immortality (except the Rune of Punishment which.... Does not :)) and a lot of them also come with fun and horrible Extra "Perks":tm:! Each game also has at least one of the 27 True Runes that your protagonist ends up wielding. The in-game legend about the origins of the True Runes goes as follows (pulled this direct from the wiki):

In the beginning, there was "darkness." Then finally, the "darkness" shed a "tear." From that "tear," the brothers Sword and Shield were born. Sword Bragged that he can cut anything. Shield replied that he could protect anything. Then the brothers began a legendary battle for seven days and seven nights. At the end, Sword cut Shield and Shield smashed Sword. Sword became the sky, Shield became the earth, and the sparks from the battle became the stars. And the jewels that adorn Sword and Shield Became the True Runes-- The runes that all other runes were born from.

Each game has a "base" that your hero finds at some point that gets built up not only as the story progresses, but also as you recruit characters to your army. Which is another thing all the games share! There is a collection of 108 recruitable characters in each game (give-or-take as III is kind of different in that it includes antagonists, and also the other games have some characters that will take other's places depending on certain conditions e.g. there's one character, who if you make certain decisions, will die in battle, and his son will join your army in his place, taking his place in the roster, but if you don't make those decisions, you keep the father and never meet his son). Not all the recruitable characters are playable in battle however, some of them are there as either battle support, offering you different benefits to your combat party, and some are there to add things to your base such as minigames, shops, or entertainment (The Suikoden II Iron chef style minigame is still my all time favorite videogame minigame, although some of that might be nostalgia talking lol). It's incredibly rewarding to return to your base after recruiting people and then find another wing added onto it and sometimes with more fun minigames to play. It really starts to feel so lively! Also if you recruit all 108 characters and fill your roster (known in-game as the Tablet of Stars) usually before the final major tactical battle, you unlock different really cool extras (like the aforementioned ability in III where you get to play through parts of the game from the "antagonist's" PoV)

Oh gosh, another thing all the games have in common is there are three battle systems. 1) your typical turn-based system (6 characters):

2) a duel system where it's 1v1 in a sort of rock-paper-scissors style thing where you have to read your oppenent's dialogue to determine how they're going to attack and react accordingly or take massive damage

and 3) the large-scale "tactical" battles, where you set up battle units with the characters you've recruited and then you essentially play a semi-chance based version of chess and fling them at each other on the field and try to reduce the enemy to a certain number, hold out until a certain amount of moves/time has passed, or just all out reduce their army to zero.

(also lol this video has the joke about Viktor's Lion flag)

Along with all the war, there's a bunch of deeper underlying themes like companionship, loyalty, hope, grief, loss, guilt, you know all the happy fun JRPG style storytelling elements! And honestly that's what really elevates the games. I think it's a lot like some of XIV, especially StB and HW in that respect. Like yes, war is going on, and it's the main big central conflict, but there's always more to keep you engaged and interested in the heroes and their journeys. I was going to go on and explain a synopsis of each game specifically, but lol just this is already soooooo long. There's also a villain (he's not the main villian.... ohhhhh no) in the first two games who's a vampire, his name is Neclord (fuckin lol), and he has a bangin battle soundtrack:

There is literally so much more I could say about the series, but like literally if it sounds even slightly interesting to you, I implore you to pick up the remasters when they come out in March (I believe on multiple platforms, including Steam and Switch iirc?)

Also a special mention about the creator Yoshitaka Murayama, who passed away in February of this year. He created his own game studio, Rabbit & Bear Studios which developed the Spiritual successor series to the Suikoden series, Eiyuden Chronicle (which had an incredibly successful kickstarter campaign and is available to play to the public right now, and I own but have not yet played).

[necrotic-nephilim]

Give me your most controversial dc opinions!!!

HA YES GLADLY I WOULD LOVE TO (added a read more because i had a lot of words oopsie)

The Titans Tower Incident was in character for Jason Todd. at worst, it's a *bit* over-dramatic and a little cringey, but if you consider his actions, his motivations, and what he *actually* does, i honestly don't think it's OOC for him. he's just kind of a dramatic asshole in that era and i stand by that comic. the issue isn't the comic itself, it's how people interpret it.

i think the DC fandom, specifically the Batfamily fandom, really likes to claim to be progressive for brownie points, but then will have the one token woman that everyone decides is acceptable to hate. like, it's one thing if you dislike Carrie Kelley, i get it. Frank Miller isn't a great writer of women and she can be a lack of a character in the original Dark Knight Returns. but if you go out of your way making constant edits and posts shitting on her, it's *weird*. especially when most of the people shitting on her haven't even consumed her source, and their reasons for disliking her can apply to any other Robin, especially Tim. but as long as you put say, Steph or Cass on a pedestal, you can talk on and on about how you want to kill Carrie for the crime of existing. it feels like acceptable misogyny. i also think this extends to writers. if you put say, Gail Simone on a pedestal, you're free to blame everything under the sun on Devin Grayson. (to be clear i think you can and should hate Devin Grayson for a lot of things, but most rumors about her are untrue and if you look at every badly written comic and go "sounds like something Devin Grayson would write" that's really weird bc everything she's done, men like Chuck Dixon, Tom King, Tom Taylor, Marv Wolfman, etc have done in tenfold.) like, misogyny = bad unless it's That One Woman We've All Agreed To Hate. it's weird and i keep noticing it. and no one seems to unpack it. (i mostly see this on TikTok, not Tumblr tbf)

i don't care if you ship BruDick or not, but it's not weird for canon content to imply or state Dick had a crush on Bruce when he was first taken in. even in canon where Dick sees Bruce as a "father figure" in the most generous sense, that bond took years to build and when Dick was freshly orphaned, he *had* the memory of loving parents and didn't want Bruce to fill that role. you don't have to ship BruDick, you don't even have to like batcest, but if you're vitriolic toward just the idea that "hey maybe a young kid on the cusp of puberty might have some weird feelings to work out about the canonically very attractive mysterious playboy who took him in before seeing him as family because that bond took years to build" is nasty and terrible and wrong to you, you don't like the Batfamily, you just like the nuclear "neat" version of it in your head

the Batfamily characters are *all* too hypercompetent. like all of them are just *too* good at what they do that in order to write them in interesting arcs together, you have to willingly make some of them OOC in order to not immediately have the Problem wrapped up. i get it, Bruce is the greatest detective, Tim is wicked smart, Jason's a heavy hitting brawler, but we've reached a point where all of these characters have so many buffs they're not *fun* anymore. especially not in a group setting where you need to justify them needing each other's help. and even worse-so when they interact outside of the Gotham, you end up making every non-Batfam character seem useless just to make the Batfamily look cool. it's exhausting. i want to see these characters lose fights, look stupid, and not be the best for once. they're all getting so good they're just kind of. boring. which is the worst sin for a character, IMO.

i think we should go like. a good year of all Justice League-related teams not having a single Bat on the roster. just as a cleanse so *someone else* can shine. i get why non-Batfam DC fans are sick of the Batfamily bc jesus. it's oversaturation of the market.

power scaling "who would win" fights are fucking boring and i don't care. that's the least interesting thing about the fandom. you're missing the point of all of these characters if you only care about who could win a brawl. also it's just a stupid debate because the answer will *always* be: whoever the author of the comic wants to win.

the Batfamily is too damn big. i love every single one of them do not get me wrong. i'd die for the little niche characters who are likely never going to be relevant again like Julia Pennyworth or Kate Spencer. but it's too fucking big at this point. it's insisted to us that these characters are family but like. half of them have barely existed on the same page together more than once. it's ridiculous and it cannot sustain itself. none of these characters are allowed proper shine because they'll just get dropped for the next new shiny character. i think Maps Mizoguchi is a cool lil lady, but i know in my soul in like. three years she will fade into comics limbo and we'll have a new shiny character to fawn over. it's a brutal cycle bc DC doesn't know how to give any of these characters follow through, just wants to wave around cool new concepts.

both Under The Red Hood and Death In The Family are mediocre adaptations and strip the most important emotional elements of Jason's story from the plot. you can't properly adapt Jason's death if you leave his mother out of it. like they're phenomenal movies as their own pieces of media, but they lack the necessary emotional weight for Jason.

on the note of adaptations: the Young Justice cartoon is i think the best case study of "how do you react to a piece of media that's amazing on it's own, but is a fucking horrible adaptation?" because like, i can't discredit it. it's a good show. but it's a bad adaptation and i think people using it as an entry point for DC can make their views of certain characters and teams *very* warped. the Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey movie falls into a similar vein for me. if that movie was it's own thing with original characters, it'd likely be a top five movie for me. but because it's *such a fucking bad adaptation* i can't help but hate it for brutalizing the characters and the general concept of the BoP. it should've been a Gotham Sirens movie, and Young Justice should've been a Teen Titans show. and sure, adaptations don't owe us accuracy, but they have negative effects on the comics when they gain popularity. so i struggle to like Young Justice bc of how badly it's affected certain characters.

also on the note of adaptations: the best adaptation of how comic media operates is the Sandman tv show. adapting comics to tv shows or movies is difficult bc comic arcs don't operate the way show/movie arcs do, but the Sandman show proves it's absolutely doable to adapt the storytelling style while still making the typical adjustments you need for an adaptation.

DC needs more Deaf representation. in most areas, DC either matches Marvel or outperforms Marvel with representation of marginalized identities, but it's fucking tragic we have no deal Deaf rep in DC whereas Marvel has quite a few to pick from. this one is personal bc i'm Deaf but it does fuck me up the only option we have is a side character from Tim Drake: Robin who doesn't appear anywhere else and isn't a great character overall. DC i'm in your walls.

on the note of representation, if i see one more person say Titans had "perfect casting" while in the same breath admitting Dick was whitewashed, you are weird and i dislike you. it's really fucking weird that whitewashing is permissable to this fandom if the actor cast/fancast is hot. Dick should've been a Roma actor. Damian should not be fancast as a white actor. it's the bare minimum.

i have so many more but i will end with this especially controversial one: Dan Mora's art is overhyped. that man has the worst same face syndrome i've ever seen and i will not lie half the time i can't tell which Robin he's drawing. his art is technically gorgeous and it's so pretty to look at, but begging for every comic series to be drawn by him is boring and terrible. the art style of a comic reflects it's genre. wanting all comic art to look like Dan Mora's art is sucking the style out of comics. i miss art styles like Todd Nauck's that clearly reflected the genre of the comic.

i lied i have one more i'm REALLY passionate about: Tim's vigilante name after Red Robin should not be bird-themed. naming him Sparrow or Cardinal is *just* as bad as naming him Red Robin longterm. they're *just* as derivative and they *sound* cool but don't hold any real unique identity for Tim outside of Robin. like it baffles me we all agree he needs to move on from Robin and then decided "let's name him Robin Lite". if he has a bird name, it should be Jackdaw so at the very least, he's not red anymore. and Jackdaw could be a fun callback to Drake, in that it uses part of Tim's real name (his middle name, Jackson) while standing out a bit. but if i really had creative control i'd give him a completely unique name. if it has to be Batfamily related, Gray Ghost. but in my head, his name should be Conspiracy. i could write a lengthy meta on why and tbh it is based in my love for the Question and wanting Tim to have a similar detective noir-esque gritty solo, but i genuinely don't think he should be Cardinal or Sparrow. those names only continue his identity issues of being trapped as either Robin or a Robin knockoff.

[sunder-soul]

Sunnnyyy you were, is and always will be my favourite author to ever come across no matter what you're a gem and i absolutely adore you and your works and jdbejsndndnsk 🫶🏻

Ahhhh 🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[bootyful-seventeen]

Oh gosh okay so I went back to marinating more on long haired Jihoon, but specifically long haired Jihoon getting pegged has me chewing on the bars of my enclosure to get out

Like just think of how pretty he'd look when he's on all fours and your fucking into him!! His chest blushed and heaving from how needy he is for you and the way your touch just feels so good and electric running along your skin! Your fingers then threading through his hair to pull his head up to see his thoroughly fucked out and flushed face in the mirror you placed in front of the bed. His eyes rolling back into his skull as cute little whimpers and cries slip from his lips when you brush your lips along his shoulder and licking up his neck before nibbling on his earlobe. Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh and even the louder moans he'd make if you gripped his cheeks in your hands and pounded him into the mattress, his back arching so nicely that you can't help but run a hand up his spine and wrap his long hair around your fist while he trembled underneath you whimpering about how he's gonna cum. Your eyes dropping down to watch his slick hole swallowing your strap on with ease from being played with for so long before getting bent over. Jihoon's whines getting louder from hand slipping between his thighs to jerk off his leaky cock until he's releasing spurts onto the sheets under him. Tears springing from his eyes as you fuck him at a harder and faster pace until he was left gasping for air, his thighs shaking from keeping his ass up when your strap slips out of his trembling hole and a relieved smile on his face as you cooed about how good he was for you, and how he looks so pretty all fucked out like this between kisses along his spine

[revenancy]

I can't tell you how badly I would like to peek over your shoulder at your SDP notes lol. Can I trouble you for an infodump? Any time I see a post about Ros and/or Nevi I started fluttering against the computer monitor like a moth. Thank u :>

oh my gosh YES. okay. so. tw for dubcon/noncon, cannibalism, physical, sexual, and emotional abuse, serious injury and death. all text screencaps will be described in alt text, and this post will probably get long.

but here we go:

Six Dead Princes started off as literally this block of text in a libreoffice doc (ignore the homestuck in me, please)

and it's obviously come pretty far since that initial toss-up of ideas a couple weeks ago, evolving into something that puts Ros more in a position of power than he was at first (this is not necessarily a good thing.)

important notes: Nevi has, technically, murdered Ros. more than once. but because his life is intrinsically bound to the life of the sorcerer's tower(-slash-ex-husband) he keeps waking up, time and again.

[continuing under the cut]

so Roslin -- Sehtriax Rosmaundel, or something along those lines, but he hasn't been that person since he was seven years old and gifted to the Sorcerer Wyse for her steadfast loyalty as the king's lover -- has lived in the tower for twenty years. the first ten years were relatively normal as he and Nevi would butt heads but, overall, the Sorcerer Wyse controlled the two of them well.

eight years ago, he was gifted to Nevi -- at her request upon reaching age of majority -- to be her pet.

Nevi taxidermies her pets.

she is the definition of a spoiled brat. anything Nevi wants, Nevi gets -- she's the sorcerer's only child, and while she has no magic of her own and no interest in learning it, she knows how to use her mother's magic. Roslin is under a charm that ensures his survival but also demands his obedience, something Nevi found out when she was very young and thus decided to use to her advantage.

she has had cats and dogs and snakes and one short-lived falcon, and now, she has a prince.

the last prince.

the old king had seven children: Anahtriax Salmene, his only daughter, and six sons. technically Anahtriax and Sehtriax, Ros's name, are titles and not proper names, but they're considered archaic and holy Gyre-names, meaning literally First Prince(ss) and Seventh Prince(ss), and yes the other five all had the same thing.

Salmene is ~10 years older than Roslin, so at the time of the plot she's 37 and has been locked away for nearly as long as he's been alive -- because in the trend of fantasy monarchies being strange and terrible people, the old king (currently unnamed) went through a string of lovers, each of them suffering some tragic end.

Roslin's birth mother -- a foreign ballerina named Corenthe -- was slaughtered and carved like a duck for dinner. the old king and his daughter consumed the woman in front of the Holy Mother, aka the queen of Cierclant, aka the king's wife and the symbolic (and chaste) mother of all of his children, and the king's brother, who ended up becoming his regent after using that instance to prove the man's instability.

this may also be why the Holy Mother was willing to let the sorcerer have Roslin: she wanted him as far from his father as propriety would allow, and the king would not part with his youngest son for anyone but the love of his life (in that moment, the Sorcerer Wyse).

but let's talk about the fun stuff:

Nevi. The way she treats Ros is basically as a living sex toy -- he exists to offer her pleasure and delight, and she very rarely suffers him to have desires of his own (except when she can frustrate him). When he is allowed some semblance of power and control, it's usually because she's bored and wants to see what he would do with it, and she snatches it back the moment he crosses a line.

and oh my god this man is a wreck. he is twenty-seven he has never been allowed to have sexual desires outside of Nevi. he has never been allowed to have curiosities, to explore his own attraction, and he has pretty much come to the conclusion that perhaps this is love: strapped to a table with her knife in his side waiting for her to come back up and let him free. perhaps this is hate: Nevi taking his body for herself, more or less riding him into submission, and he doesn't know better to want anything else.

and then the fifth prince dies.

his name is Selantin. he is betrothed to the priestess Esmeriht of the Holy Gyre (as was his brother Galant before him). and when his body has cooled, the Holy Mother picks herself up from her mourning and she sets off for the sorcerer's tower with Emra in tow to collect her last living son.

and Seventh Prince Roslin's first desire is a breathless, terrified glance at Nevi and I want her detained. and in her prison cell, he ties her hands to the rough iron bars and he relishes the thought of returning all that hurt onto her. a better man, he tells himself, would move on.

Roslin is not a better man.

he would rather have Nevi to himself, keep her as a pet like she kept him, than move past anything she did to him. he would rather fuck her in every way she hates -- violate her trust in him and prove that she was a fool to have any to begin with, once he's let loose from the obedience charm -- and turn that magic back on her.

and then you add Emra to the mix -- Esmeriht Cashilde Donsel of the Holy Gyre, a born daughter of the faith, pure and chaste and all things that good girls are supposed to be -- and it's like Roslin is dead set to prove to himself and everyone else that he needed to be controlled. that some part of him is just like his father, that some kinds of madness are hereditary, that maybe little pieces of himself have chipped off over the years and are sitting on the floor of Nevi's laboratory:

And if there's one thing he hates more than anything else, it's Emra's maintained innocence. It's her frowning on anything sexual or magical -- it's her acting like he's somehow been corrupted by Nevi's influence on his life -- it's her shying away from him when they're not in a public occasion, refusing to let him touch her, refusing to meet his eye. He feels goddamn slighted because the wife they've offered him is obviously defective somehow. (she's just an asexual celibate priest. and he's EXACTLY as abusive about that as you'd expect. this is NOT his trauma healing arc.)

and he is NOT going to realize any of this until he's forced to confront it. he's not going to look at himself in the mirror until the blade is held to his throat. until he has to face death -- true death -- and he thought that he wouldn't be afraid of it, after Nevi. after everything she did to him. every day he woke up dead.

but outside of the sorcerer's tower, out from the yoke of the spell that kept him physically whole, the seventh prince of Cierclant comes to the realization that injuries are lasting.

and death is permanent.