#this is what siblinghood is at the end of the day

[mickeym4ndy]

insp

[rosemarydisaster]

I feel like late teen/early twenties Dick Grayson would be the kind to say (on a really bad day) "We're siblings, not friends. Don't forget it", only to forget he said that himself. It's years later and Jason comes back taunting him with what, for him, was a throwaway said half joking/half lashing out.

Dick: omg that's so mean!

Jason:... Dude you said that to me when I was 14

Dick: did I? Well I was having a bad week!

Jason: I'm having a bad existence!

Dick: you've always been so petty and dramatic let it go!

Jason: bet you don't talk like that to sweet little Timmy

Tim: first of all I'm an emancipated 17 yo so jot that down. Second of all, las week I asked for help with a case and he reminded me he moved out for a reason

Jason: holy shit

Dick: Dude I'm not your mom, I'm your 20 something brother. I should only come back for Christmas episodes.

Jason: did you forget your own age?

Tim: this is not a sitcom

Dick: I helped you in the end! Let's see how you like it when Duke and Damian chase you down after you move out.

Tim: that's not going to happen Damian hates me

Jason: you hate me and you get into my territory at least once a month

Tim: ... Oh my fucking god.

Dick: yeah, that's Right! And I didn't beat any of you up so all things considered I handled elder siblinghood like a champ. You guys can't complain.

Tim: *having a crisis* fair point

Jason: *laughing his ass off* fair point

[blueiight]

in the book, i think paul’s death , the frenieres and their connection via slavery are more important mortals to book louis than his sister or mother. they both remain unnamed figures, tertiary symbols for how immortality and time strip u away from the mortal sphere. we have kalyne’s acting and the show to thank for making her a complex character.

the show elevates the entire du lac family dynamic imo, paul’s one-dimensional fanaticism becomes a compelling sort of religious psychosis - a mad black man clinging to faith in a world that gave him very few other options. the ‘asylum in jackson’ at their time was a segregated facility that made their patients build the infrastructure themselves. the last sunrise book louis saw of his sleeping sister becomes the last sunrise show louis saw - his younger brother killing himself the morning after his sister’s wedding.

paul is also an introduction for the ‘roles louis (and paul, who is unable to) has to play’. unable to mask, paul propositions a lady of the night with the word of god. louis, who ‘did not want to draw a knife on [his] brother, but couldnt afford to look weak on liberty’, threatens paul. lestat is seduced not by the act alone, but the tempest in louis’s mind as he commits it. it is paul’s suicide that is the last time louis sees the sunrise, and grace + florence’s subsequent responses to it that drive louis in the drunken haze he was in before/while being turned. with the loss of paul, louis is the sole ‘aberration’ of their family while grace is the ‘good sister’ as kalyne coleman worded it.

grace’s arc in the show is rendered a fascinating parallel to louis’s. as pointed out in many gifsets + the like, grace is married proper while louis has a bloody vow of immortality in st. augustine’s. also grace, whos able to be properly married with children of her own, her expected role as a (cis) woman of her age, v. louis, whos rendered an immortal placee, who nearly eats his own nephew and weeps bc he cannot have ‘children of his own’ (unlike grace, is whats unsaid).

he desires to have a family to complete his companionship, and also to be in an ‘aberrant’ role for a man of his age. louis, in his adoption of claudia in the next episode, then brings her to the first time to his mother’s funeral, with a ‘family of his own’ to protect him from his mortal family’s dispute.

grace is also rendered a sort of babette here, as a mortal observer to louis’s immortality, who watches him be gradually removed from their day, and ends up parting with louis on vaguely similar notes - fear of the devil in louis.

but where babette was terrified of book louis (& lestat, though she gave no indication of knowing they were both there) bc of his oppressive hunting of the people in his capture, bc louis+ lestat were threatening her for a way to escape to new orleans; grace in the show was burying the memory of the brother she once had, lost to the abstract devil that is immortality. its a coda, a sequel of sorts to the confrontation at the du lac mansion in episode 3, where florence calls louis the devil. grace buries louis with him standing there. the makeup is dubious, but grace is meant to be older as indicated by her attire + dialogue (“prayed myself old thinkin bout u”). babette’s departure from the narrative segways claudia’s entry, but in the show, grace’s departure from the narrative marks a turning point for claudia and louis. claudia watching louis weep over his own grave makes her believe she was ‘made to be louis’s sister’, and louis losing his last mortal connection marks a turning point that opens him for further abuse that very episode ends on.

all of this is to say this is an extremely compelling depiction of siblinghood, and how love can be lost and/or estranged between family.

[shivroygirls]

i fucking love 'with open eyes'. i love that shiv switched to his brothers' side so easily as soon as matsson betrayed her, i loved that scene where roman and her decide it should be kendall and i loved the meal fit for a king scene because all of it was childish. it was, the entire time, a childish, petty thing. they were always the kids outside logan's office, making noise, fighting, betraying, and slapping one another. it makes so much sense for it to end like it did. it does. it makes sense it all came down to a sibling argument, to a last grasp of shiv for some power, some minimal win, down to a 'if i can't win, at least you won't win either' because that's such, such a sibling thing. if you have a sibling, you understand that feeling, you understand that as much as you love your siblings you won't want them to win over you. less if it's something as powerful as getting to be CEO. but also you wouldn't want them to win at monopoly or uno either. i have a younger sister, i'd die for her any day, i'd take a bullet to the heart if it meant she got to live forever happily but i would not ever let her shower before me, and i think that's what siblinghood is about and i think the entirety of succession was about that. always.

[starstruckodysseys]

hi ho dear friend

PLS TELL ME ABOUT GHOSTBUSTERS NSBU AU

also girls night

fascinated by all of them tho

YIPPEE

girl’s night is part of my pibe urban fantasy au. it’s jenny, kirsten, vanessa, and brittany hanging out and having a sleepover!! why is it urban fantasy au you ask? i truly don’t know rn. maybe it won’t be. also ft jenny+tyler siblinghood bc i am who i am

nsbu ghostbusters au is my current child of a fic (and the ghostbusters au ive been referring to the past few days) !!

dave’s video world isn’t really a video store, nor is it really going out of business — in reality, it’s a coverup for a ghost hunting business. it functions similarly to how the store itself works in relation to the cast and their positions — usha manages the finances, russell deals with the equipment and upkeep, paula handles security while they’re out, dang takes their calls and goes out when needed, and liv + wendell are the ones actually hunting the ghosts. why they made the teenagers do it, we’ll never know. mostly silly goofy awesome action heroes friendship, but things slowly start to turn more… sinister, as monsters seem to lurk around every corner and darkness creeps into lake elsinore. something feels… weird about dave’s video world… and maybe even dave himself…?

it’s also still a wip so like idk maybe none of that will end up being true but that’s what i have rn!! snippet under the read more btw

Really, Liv doesn’t know why they’re making the literal teenagers be the ones to go out and fight the ghosts. At least half of her coworkers are full adults, have been adults far longer than her barely-legal status — she turned eighteen a whole month ago — and are probably a little more qualified to carry around the ghost… sucking… tube she currently has strapped to her back. Dang’s crash course before sending her and Wendell out had been… enlightening, even if not remarkably informative.

She hadn’t signed up for the job. Or, well, she had, but all the questions on the dinky little website she’d pulled up on her laptop in the school library a week before graduation had been about, like, regular job stuff. All she’d expected was a normal summer job, with normal hours and normal coworkers. Instead, she finds herself lying to her parents about where she is on weekends — she hasn’t stayed in touch with a single person she’s told them she’s spending the night with — and worrying about whether or not she’s going to get literally possessed. She’s pretty sure she was supposed to sign a waiver.

How is any of this meant to go on a resume?

[lyssq]

jeyna, liper and amnesia angst

@them-awesome-rarepairs free day time! I’m not sure what this is really. Headcanons? Rambling about my thoughts??

So. We all love the Jeyna amnesia angst. And you may know of the theory/headcanon about how Leo and Piper were together but Hera replaced Leo with Jason in Piper’s fake memories. I am obsessed with both of these so let’s think about them existing together.

Jason and Piper have this feeling of being obligated to be together. Piper’s head is definitely a bit messed up from the fake memories, and Jason clung to her when he didn’t know who he was and he doesn’t know how to let go now. They’re not really romantically compatible, but they have to be together, right? Isn’t it fate?

Now, Reyna. Reyna never lost her memories. Her boyfriend disappears for months and she didn’t even know if he was still alive, then he shows up again with a new girl and seemingly no memory of their relationship. She is, understandably, crushed. Would she try reaching out to him? Because he seems happy with Piper, and would he even be receptive if she tried to remind him what they were – a goddess’s magic can be pretty powerful.

Leo didn’t remember him and Piper, and was (relatively) fine being Jasiper’s third wheel. But then he dies and is resurrected and the process wipes the Mist away and suddenly he remembers everything. Like Reyna, he’d probably feel guilty about breaking up Jason and Piper’s seemingly perfect relationship, so he just tries not to die each time he sees them together.

I advocate for Leo and Reyna siblinghood so they definitely connect over this. Sad sleepovers where they recount their relationships before the war, wishing their lovers could just remember. Fantasizing about beating up Hera/Juno with a hammer.

(And if we want a happy ending maybe they do do that lol. Force Hera to return Jason and Piper’s memories and fix everything)

[mothwithapencil]

your street fighter art has brought me much joy...thank you ^_^ i wasnt too familiar w vega b4hand but. he's got me in his claws now... i'm seeing the vision....i would like to hear more of what u've concocted for his siblinghood w cammy if you would like 2 share! what the dynamic could be like when cammy was still a doll under shadaloo, vs when she started fighting bison, etcetc. the silly the serious how things change over the years >:0 apologies if this is a tall order

(Also. mike tyson cartoon balrog knocked me back. What are the odds that he, too, has a van with "BI GUY" on the license plate)

I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE A VEGAHEAD NOW.... He got me in his claws as soon as I saw him... The vega army grows stronger...

His siblinghood with Cammy (and also Decapre) is so very special to me. You can check out this post first for some stuff I said about them that I'll extrapolate on here. RAMBLE TIME.

Vega and Cammy are very similar and share several traits and I think a lot of it has to do with him having to train and take care of her and the other Dolls. It makes me so very insane that Vega is generally portrayed as this cold and uncaring murder guy who only loves himself, and yet...

Please look at these dialogues from Alpha 3. HE CARES ABOUT HER SO MUCH. IT HURTS. There's so much here. He wants her to be safe. He cares about the girl he took care of so much that he calls M. BISON A COWARD. Bison could kill Vega by looking at him and yet he stands up to him for the sake of someone else's safety. I rambled about their relationship and his feelings towards her more in a text to my gf I'm too lazy to rewrite:

Btw yes I am making a drawing about the braids. They hold so much symbolism TO ME. The braids he did for her... One of the few remaining things connecting them.... It means a lot to him, and you can see how much it means to him in A Shadow Falls:

While she's passed out he just stops to pick up one of her braids and his eyes immediately soften. And then he leaves without really doing anything because he sees that Cammy wants to protect Decapre, who she knows is her sister. He doesn't try to kill Cammy or anyone she loves. Every time he fights her he just sees her as a worthy foe (in the Alpha 3 dialogue up there he later changes his mind about Cammy not being a good opponent as he rescues her from the Shadaloo base). And later in A Shadow Falls when Cammy and Decapre are fighting the other Dolls, he goes against Shadaloo's ideals and frees the Dolls from the Psycho Power controlling them. At the end of the story he throws away his mask. Vega is not heartless... He has kindness and compassion... He has sweetie powers.... He just doesn't want you to know that because he hasn't been allowed to have emotions for so long... He's just stuck working for people he hates. Every time Bison isn't a direct threat to him he just goes back to Bullfighting. He doesn't care about those guys at all and the only thing truly keeping him is probably the fact Bison or another Shadaloo member would show up at his home and kill him if he quit. I think he wishes he could have the same freedom Cammy has... He's proud of her for breaking the cycle of being used as a tool by Bison and wishes he could be afforded the same luxury...

They all even pose the same way... There's a couple pieces of art where theyre posing this way and they share some similar moves too.... The parallels... They compel me....

I don't know if Cammy will ever piece together that Vega is her weird questionably evil possibly clone-related big brother. Decapre is much more similar to him visually and maybe that will tip her off. But for now all of her past growing up in House of Bison is known only to Vega and the fleeting memories kill him every day. He may feel particularly closer to Cammy but he stills shows care and compassion for Decapre too. He loves his sisters so very much and thus....

SOMETIMES A FAMILY IS WHATEVER THIS IS ↓↓↓ ‼️‼️

ITS SO HARD BEING A SINGLE MOM WHEN YOURE AN ASSASSIN FOR SHADALOO AND ALSO A GROWN MAN💯💯

(Also, for the last portion of that ask: I do think Balrog has a "BI GUY" vanity plate. Beef IS Gross, Unethical, and Yucky. That IS what he reads when he sees it. He DOES look at the bi men checking him out and say "we like to put the same thing in our mouth!" Its true. I saw it happen. Lmfao)

[giddlygoat]

okay i’ve been chewing on it and i really think what i meant to say is that steven was wordgirl’s uncle and two brains is like an older brother. not that this ridiculous dynamic needs ill-fitting labels slapped on it, but that’s the best way i can think to describe it.

steven was a source of support, a guide, someone who could offer a safe space and whom wordgirl could feel some solidarity with.

two brains is more like an out of control sibling who ultimately has a good heart but too easily gets swept up in the trap of short-term thinking for the sake of immediate gratification. he’s obviously not in his right mind, but he’d just as quickly catch wordgirl as she fell as he would push her off a bridge, and i think that’s why the word “siblinghood” keeps rattling around in my noggin.

once again, at the end of the day, they’re just two weirdos with a deeper-than-average understanding of the other that’s buried under a mountain of personal issues.

anyway. i do think there’s something to be said about wordgirl’s need to be needed and how she ties her own self-worth to the services she can provide to others. and how two brains is a tragic mess of the man he used to be and how he’s very intentionally her nemesis now. and how they maintain that dynamic with equal and mutual interest. just saying

[the-black-bulls]

Hi Cyroo!

I see that you're also doing this game so what about 🍒🍍🫐?

Send a fruit emoji for an answer!

hey there, hope you're having a great day! :D

🍒 - What’s your favorite character dynamic to write? (Can be romantic or platonic, specific or general!)

Siblinghood. I love writing about siblings. Brothers, sisters, brothers and sisters, older or younger, with big age gaps or small ones, blood siblings or adopted siblings. I love them all.

I also enjoy a specific type of dynamics where you specifically have two characters with little in common or are rarely shown together in canon if ever and come up with a "common theme" to connect them together. As a writer, I love creativity and exploring outside the box.

🍍 What kind of AUs do you like? Are there any AUs you hate or just generally have beef with?

I'm down for any type of Dystopian AUs... Apocalypse, Zombie, World Ending, Survival, you name it. I love tension and characters suffering even if it may break me lol.

On the positive side, I love Pirate, Steampunk, Outlaw, and about any type of free-spirited AUs explored in a rich world that make me go all geek and nerdy about all the possibilities.

🫐 What’s your favorite underrated thing in your fandom? (A ship that only you seem to write for, a character there’s almost no fics about, a trope that criminally hasn’t been written yet, etc.)

Underrated, huh. Hands down non-shippy fics that focus on the less popular members or dynamics in the Black Bulls. I can go on and on about each member and all the colorful interactions worth exploring they have within the squad and all the story ideas you can craft from giving them a bit of focus.

Especially Liebe. Holy shit, we need more of Liebe.

[kamesama]

— baby, i'm yours: itadori yūji.

— notes: meet cute; normal life! au; reader is friends with choso; song in question is baby, i'm yours by arctic monkeys; drabble trade with @bokutosbiceps ily honey. — word count: 461

you turn your head, throwing a glance over your shoulder at the sound of a familiar voice calling out your name. as if following the arched path of reflex, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips instantly. it wrinkles the skin beneath your eyes as a quiet, subtle proof of your joy.

“choso, hi! what’s up?”

smile, alas fainter, pushes the male’s lips into a similar expression of cordial glee. he nods his head in an acknowledgement of your question, offering a response that humbly sums up that all has been well on his end. noticing the way your gaze trails from his familiar face and onto a stranger by his side, choso clears his throat, eyes suddenly beaming with quiet pride that you’ve never witnessed on him.

“this is itadori yūji. consider him my little brother.”

there is a miniature dose of dumbfoundedness in itadori yūji’s chocolate eyes for a split second. they are stuck on your face and his lips are parted, yet no breath flows between them in any direction whatsoever. only for a split second.

baby, i’m yours.

music lulls from a nearby cafe. yūji is not familiar with the tune, although the voice serenading sounds awfully familiar. he cannot put his finger on it; his attention is elsewhere even though the melody creeps in through his ears. it makes him feel as if he’s in slow-motion footage of a movie. only for a split second.

and i’ll be yours until the stars fall from the sky. 

“it’s nice to meet you!” he flashes you a cheeky smile, white teeth shamelessly but instinctively displaying utmost sincerity as he offers his hand. it’s a little calloused, but his grip is firm and friendly. he doesn’t make an attempt to deny choso’s claim of siblinghood; it’s too much of a hassle, and he’s grown deaf to it by now.

something warm envelopes you; he is like the sun, you think. 

nothin’ in the world could drive me away, ‘cause every day, you’ll hear me say . . .

“where are you headed?” choso interrupts the silent flow of nothing in particular, but nonetheless, something seems to have been abruptly stopped in its tracks. his voice carries a tone of both a common nicety and affable familiarity.

you open your mouth, rosy lips preparing to bear the weightless burden of a response, but you are interrupted, “we are getting some food. you can come with, if you’re free!” choso nods his head to the chirp of his proclaimed, pink-haired kin. 

you can hear your stomach ready to rumble; a prelude to a thunderstorm envelops within its layers. a silent prayer begging for an affirmation stands across it. 

“you know what? that sounds great.” yūji’s heart feels full.

baby, i’m yours.

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

[falsegrailwar]

hi what do you think about owls relationships with the other world serpent officiers?

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED

Raven: ✨SIBLINGHOOD✨ I mean, come on. They've each lost a sibling, they have a more intertwined past with each other than most pairs in World Serpent, they have some mutual respect but also will not hesitate to call each other weird. I will live in the Raven & Owl sibling fantasyland forever

Jackal: I think he's a little bit scared of her but given that they both lean towards research rather than active combat they've probably worked together a fair amount. Plus she is probably like, his actual doctor wrt his Honkai infection

Gray Serpent: This man's presence makes me feel gross and slimy and I think everyone in World Serpent agrees with me

Skipping Hare/Misteln bc a) I have not met her yet and b) I'm not even sure if the rest of WS knows her. All I really know about her is her name and that I like her playstyle lmao

B-b-b-bonus round!

Mei: Every day I wish they'd had the time to develop a proper friendship. Raven Owl Mei trio is real in my heart

Kevin: This one's actually really interesting to think about!! Because like, World Serpent is technically a cult that worships the Flame-Chasers, but the agents we see don't really... display this religious side of it very much, y'know? As far as Owl goes, I don't think he actually buys into that very much, and tbh I have a hard time imagining him even being particularly formal with Kevin. Like yeah sure okay he'll call him Sire 'cause that's what everyone calls him, but beyond that I think it tops out at like... the typical level of respect you're supposed to show to your employer. At the end of the day, World Serpent is a means to an end for him, just a job not a belief system.

[fleur-de-violette]

To be a big brother

AO3

Summary:

Duke answers a call for backup in Blüdhaven. The impromptu team up leads to some conversations about Damian, and about siblinghood.

Note:

This was written for the DC out of shadow event, made by @holyserverbatman! I started a bit late, but I’m happy I can still have something about these two. I had the prompt: “Duke asking Dick how to be a good big brother” in mind but I took some liberties.

I hope you’ll enjoy the story! -

Duke had to say: he didn’t expect the look of surprise that crossed Nightwing’s face when he showed up for backup. It was almost disappointment, and he would lie if he said it didn’t hurt a little.

“Expecting someone different?” he asked, crouching down on the roof. The darkness of Blüdhaven’s night contrasted with the bright light emitted from the building Nightwing had been watching.

“I was, actually,” Nightwing said honestly. “I thought you weren’t doing nights.”

Duke shrugged. “It’s been quiet, so I took a few days off. And everyone else had been busy when you asked for backup, so I figured I could come.”

“No, it’s nice, it’s just-”

“You wanted to see someone else.”

To his credit, Dick didn’t try to hide it. He nodded slowly. “I was hoping I could see Robin, in all honesty.”

Duke nodded. That made sense. Dick and Damian were really close, much more than Dick was with Duke, who had been staying mainly in Gotham. He had worked with Bruce, a bit with Cass and Tim, but never with Dick, out of the few tense moments where they were all together for a world ending event. Dick and Damian had been Batman and Robin, whereas Duke’s Robin had only been a copycat.

As if reading his mind, Dick let out a long sigh. “I don’t… we didn’t really start on the right foot, I guess. I wasn’t in a right place when we met.”

Duke snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it.” Given what he had heard about that time, not in a right place was an understatement. But it wasn’t like he himself had been good and well adjusted when he started the We are Robin movement.

“What I mean is-”

Duke waved him off. “I know what you mean. And like, yeah. I’m ok to start again. Starting with this. You didn’t request backup to talk about feelings, right?”

Dick smiled. It seemed like this was an easier territory. “No, I didn’t. What you see here is an abandoned factory.”

Duke looked for a moment at the light coming out of the building. “Doesn’t seem abandoned to me.”

“Exactly. A group of arm dealers has established themselves in. Thirty, maybe forty men. With cutting edge weaponry. I want them out of my city and in prison.”

“Cops?”

“This isn’t Gotham. I don’t have a commissioner Gordon here,” Nightwing said before softening. “The captain I trust the most is aware I’m moving tonight, but she won’t send reinforcement. I understand her: she doesn’t want to risk her men taking a bullet, especially since we don’t know who within her rank will turn to their colleagues. She will come do the pickup afterwards, though.”

Duke let out a sarcastic smile. “So, we’re doing the dirty work and she takes credit.”

“Something like that. A problem?”

“No, not really.” It wasn’t as if it never happened in Gotham. It was frustrating, but it was part of the job.

“I’ve been observing them, while I waited for you to arrive.” Nightwing opened a hologram showing the blueprint of the building. “Here is the typical route of the guards. Here and here is where they could hide the merchandise. I don’t know if there are snipers, but if there are, they could be in this building, or in this tower or-”

“There are two snipers,” Duke cut him off. He showed their position on the map. “Here and here.”

To Dick’s questioning look, he replied. “They probably think their lasers are stealthy, but to me, it’s like pointing a light telling: I am here.”

Dick nodded. “Impressive,” he said, and Duke tried not to let the small remark get to him. Working with Batman, compliments were scarce, and he hadn’t gotten used to them. Just this one word filled him with pride.

“Then I suggest we split up to take care of them simultaneously and stealthily. We will regroup afterwards to take care of the guards and then enter the building. How does that sound? You feel up to it?”

That was another novelty. Batman never asked him if he was up to the task. He had to be. “Yes, I can do it. We take out the snipers and then?”

“I will meet you up on this bridge,” he said, showing a small metallic bridge linking up two buildings. “It should be in their blind spot. We will see from there.”

Duke nodded. Improvising then. It was good to him. Even with the most detailed of plans, he often ended up doing that anyway.

“Alright then. You take the east sniper; I take the west one. Meet you in ten minutes, here.”

“Understood. See you there.”

And with that, they were both gone in their separate direction. Duke toured the building, careful not to let himself be seen. He couldn’t help but notice Dick had given him the easiest man to take out. He didn’t really know how to feel about that. It was certain that the older man wasn’t underestimating him. He was valuable and needed backup. Still, Dick would take the most difficult and dangerous task for himself. He could understand. If it had been his city, his territory, and someone less experienced came to help him, he would probably have acted the same way.

He sneaked in behind his sniper. One quick glance into the dark showed him that Dick was doing the same. Now, he had to act fast: in one quick move he hit the man’s neck, efficiently making him fall unconscious. He mentally thanked Cass for teaching him this move before hurrying up to the rendez- vous point. He was just arriving on the platform when he saw Nightwing falling on it, his body moving like water. Anyone else than him probably wouldn’t have noticed him.

Perfect timing. And in less than ten minutes, too.

“Good job,” Nightwing said in a low voice. “We’re a bit in advance, so we will have to wait. A guard will be here in five.”

Duke nodded. So, that was what the ten minutes limit was about.

After a short time, Nightwing started talking again. That was another thing that differed from working with Batman. Bruce never used one more word than the ones that were strictly necessary.

“Thank you, for coming to help. You did good, with localizing the snipers and taking one out. I want this over tonight, and thanks to you, it might be possible.”

It was the second time Nightwing mentioned wanting the dealers to be put out this night, so it piked Duke’s curiosity. “Why? Is there something special about tonight? Are they planning something?”

Dick made a face. “No, but um… I am. Starfire asked for my help on something. I will be in space next week, maybe the week after, too. I don’t want to leave that kind of things in my city while I’m away.”

Duke suddenly realized something. “Oh, that was why,” he said before he could stop himself.

Dick tilted his head in an unsaid question.

“Da- Robin asked me to come to his art exhibit thing next week. B and A can’t join us until later, but I was wondering why he didn’t ask you.”

Something weird crossed Dick’s face. Something like disappointment, not in Duke, not in Damian, maybe in himself, but it didn’t stay more than one second, because there was a noise beneath them, and suddenly Dick Grayson was gone and Nightwing was back.  

Before Duke could even see it, and that was saying something, the guard was tied up and silenced. “Come on,” Nightwing said. “Let’s move. Stay near me.”

Duke didn’t question it. They were in enemy territory, so now was not the time to debate a plan. Between the two of them, they made quick work of the guards. To Duke’s relief, none of them had the time to sound the alarm. They were unnoticed. It wouldn’t stay that way for long. Soon, one of the guards would miss a checkup and someone would notice they had a bat problem. But for now, Duke thought as he was working to deactivate the security on the window Nightwing was trying to open, they were blissfully ignored.

“He probably understands,” Duke said, before he wasn’t one to leave a discussion unfinished. “I don’t know Starfire as much as you do, but I guess she wouldn’t have asked you if it wasn’t important. And Robin knows that too.”

Nightwing let out a low laugh. “Are you trying to reassure me? Don’t worry, I know he understands.” The window opened with a loud noise, and they started to get into the over dated ventilation system that was thankfully big enough to fit them without difficulty.

“And I get why he asked you. He was probably scared Batgirl and Hood would tease him, Black Bat isn’t a fan of social gatherings, and I can’t see him asking Red Robin. You’re a good choice. You’re a good big brother.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Duke started, but he didn’t have time to elaborate, because there were suddenly voices under them. A man was barking orders all around.

“They finally realized we’re here,” Nightwing said. “They’re going to arm themselves.”

“If we get to the control room, we might be able to lock the door to the armory,” Duke suggested. Dick nodded, and they started moving toward the control room. As they reached it, a woman was screaming at two other goons. “I don’t care about that! Find them! I want to see them!”

Dick smiled. “Let’s give her what she’s asking for.”

They fell down in unison, and the woman barely had time to scream before she was put in a headlock and rendered unconscious. Duke could see one of the other goons pull out a gun, but he was on him before the man could think of pulling the trigger. He finished tying them up before joining Dick in front of the control panel. The man was already typing fast, bypassing security protocols.  

Soon, the armories were safely locked and they even had some fun confusing the dealers by locking them and winning time. They were fighting a large number of enemies: their best shot was to separate them.

“Oracle?” Dick asked in his comm and Duke turned quickly toward him. He didn’t know she was on the case, but that made sense.

“I have access,” she said in both their earpieces. “Count on me to send them to you little by little.”

“And now?” Duke asked. There was already a group of men and women fast approaching.

Dick made a move toward the ceiling. “And now, you go up.” Duke obeyed, flying toward the ceiling with his grapples.

He wasn’t up for long when the door opened and Nightwing had half a dozen guns pointed at him.

“Hiya, fellas. Nice night we’re having today,” Nightwing said with a smile “A bit cold, but-”

A shot was fired in the wall just behind him.

“I should have guessed it was you,” said one of the dealers. “Kinda stupid to show up in here all alone.”

Nightwing leaned nonchalantly on one of the tables. “Well, see, here is the thing.” Duke stopped breathing for a second. He knew what was coming. “I’m not alone.”

Duke chose this moment to descend on them, and soon, Nightwing was bouncing with him. The dealers didn’t last long.

“You’re good,” Nightwing told him once they were done, waiting for the next ones.

“At fighting?”

“That and… big brother-ing. I don’t believe you when you say you’re not good. I think you would make a great big brother.”

That was unexpected. He thought that conversation was over. “I just… it’s very new to me. Sure, I took care of the neighbors’ kids and stuff, but it was never like this.”

So many things were new. The Signal, his powers. Adjusting to life without his parents, or, more accurately, with his parents in the state they were in. Working with Batman. Learning more about himself, without being able to tell his mom about it. And the people he could now go to with that. His kind of new family. Damian, who might look at him like his big brother, a title he wasn’t sure he deserved, just like all the others.

“There is no manual to be an oldest sibling. You try, you mess up. But, from what I saw, I think you’re doing great.” He looked at the monitors before saying “Go back up. Next wave is coming.”

Duke obediently grappled into the ceilling, putting himself in position. It was almost comical, how fast they were getting through the arm dealers. But he had to admit: they made a good team. Nightwing and The Signal. He liked the sound of that.

“I think it was the last of them,” Dick said after a few waves. “The only ones left are not fighting personnel and they are hiding.”

Duke looked at the monitors. He could see some people still on the cameras, but they didn’t seem armed. “Not hiding very well, apparently. Are we going to go get them?”

Dick shook his head. “No, let the police have them. I’ll send officer Rohrbach a message, it’s nice that they have something to do, right? Now, let’s get out of here. Half of the force wants to put a bullet in my head, we don’t want to be there when they show up.”

And with that, they were gone. After they had put a reasonable distance between them and the factory, Dick asked. “Do you need to go back to Gotham, now? Or can I offer you dinner?” he looked at the sun going up, “Or, breakfast, I guess.”

Duke looked at the rising sun for a moment. “Breakfast sounds nice, yeah.”

Dick put himself near the edge of a building. “Come on then,” he said, “I know a place that is open at this hour and doesn’t mind serving costumed freaks.”

And with that, light as air, he let himself fall down. Duke followed, his grappling style less polished, but still keeping up.

It was only when they were walking down the street that Dick said, “I’m glad Damian has someone else than me looking out for him. I meant it, when I said I think you’ll be a great big brother. And I’m counting on you.”

Duke thought of the night they just had. The peace offering, given their rocky start. The way Dick trusted him, while giving him the less dangerous tasks still. The compliments. The breakfast invitation.

“For the record,” he said. “I will be a great big brother too.”   

[spandexinspace]

But you shouldn't listen to her.

Sequel time. Sort of. Follow up to "Mother Says", will be edited a final time and uploaded to AO3 at a later date.

___________________________________________

At first Querl figures Lyle will come around soon enough and concede that the logic to his argument is sound despite its unfortunate trigger. That he’ll agree that Querl was right all along. It won’t be the clean, near-painless end Querl had imagined, not with his mind already burning with every treacherous thought it can conjure up, endlessly repeating every word from their last conversation, but it’ll be an end.

But what starts as a day stretches into two, then three. Querl doesn’t leave the lab, buries himself in work that’s not nearly advanced enough to keep him from thinking about other matters, the spectre of things to come always present in his mind. Though he doesn’t normally dream he refrains from sleeping, unsure and, as much as he hates to admit it, a little afraid of what could come of it.

On the fourth day he finally gives in to the itching curiosity and ventures out to the monitor board to check the team roster. It’s late enough in the evening that most of his teammates are preoccupied with other matters, leaving only Dirk to keep watch over the wide array of monitors in the room. He’s sitting with his back turned towards the door as Querl enters, as oblivious as ever. The main monitor shows that there are two away teams, a total of ten people including Lyle, with one seemingly being engaged in something planetside and the other being labelled as off-world. Usually that means they are operating outside of a named territory. Potentially very far away.

"How long has the off-world team been away?" Querl asks Dirk, who seems much more interested in figuring out at what angle his chair will tip over than actually monitoring anything.

"Two days, maybe? Shouldn't you know?" he says, craning his neck to look back at Querl.

"It’s not my job to keep track of other Legionnaires.”

“Like you’re not just keeping track of your sprock-buddy.” It would take so little effort to kick that chair out from under him and watch that smug face get wiped off his face. Or at least to use a force field to do it. But it would take even less effort for Dirk to retaliate — Querl wouldn’t put it past him to do that — and he would rather avoid the inconvenience that could introduce at a time like this.

“Did I ask for your opinion, Sun Boy?” Querl asks instead, settling for glaring at him, though Dirk seems infuriatingly unaffected by his odium.

“Oh sorry, mom, I thought we lived in a free country.”

“This isn’t a country. And don’t call me that!” Querl turns on his heel to leave, and if Dirk shouts something that sounds suspiciously like ‘sincerest apologies, mother’ after him he pretends he didn’t hear it. What a sprocking prick. As if any of this is any of his business in the first place.

Another three days crawl by in an excruciatingly slow fashion, every minute seeming to stretch out into hours of painful wait, filled to the brim with uneasy anticipation.

Gates drops by the lab at some point, ranting about one injustice or another. It’s not an effective distraction, few things really are when Querl’s mind is set on something, but it’s easy enough to let him ramble on, to only interject a question here and there. Gates doesn’t ask difficult, invasive questions and doesn’t concern himself with their biped drama. It’s a nice reprieve.

Other than Gates’ visit there are unusually few distractions. Some of his other teammates come by to ask their usual inane questions, but none linger. Luornu is thankfully also with the away team, removing her sometimes far too prying eyes and ideas of supposed siblinghood from his life. Her concern comes in waves, he suspects her different selves don’t quite agree on how much of a nass they should give about him, but when she’s determined to bother him she rarely just lets things go. Querl is thankful for the relief. He’ll have to confront the rest of them one day, but it seems easier to do that at another time.

Almost 170 hours pass before Lyle returns to the lab. Querl, finally buried deep enough in his work to almost block out every other thought and idea and how tired he should be, doesn’t notice him until he’s standing next to him, a dark spectre at the edge of his vision.

“Lyle,” he says, snapping up from the monitor in front of him, fumbling to pause the near-endless scroll of input of data on it.

“Yeah, hi, we need to talk. Preferably somewhere slightly more comfortable than right here.” Lyle smiles tightly. There’s a smear of something grey across his cheek and dark rings under his eyes, his entire presens radiating an unsettling energy. Querl squirms in his seat. An urge to reach out, to take his hands in his own and tell him that everything will be OK, almost overtakes the rational part of Querl’s mind, clashing against it like rough waves against a surge gate. It’s selfish, it won’t help him in the long run, he tells himself.

“Where would that be?” he asks instead, standing up.

“Living area of your quarters?” Querl nods deftly and lets Lyle lead the way from the lab to his adjacent quarters.

Well inside Lyle gingerly sits down on the small, dark-grey couch in the centre of the room, though not before having to move a stack of folded blueprints out of the way. The couch is not comfortable and as far as Querl knows hasn’t served as much more than extra storage space since that was confirmed, but he suspects that’s not the main reason why Lyle looks so uneasy, sitting there with his legs and arms crossed and a resolute expression on his face. Clearing and taking the seat on the other side of the couch Querl feels the unease envelop him too as he lingers on the far edge of the seat, as if ready to spring up at any moment. He looks towards Lyle, fidgeting with his flight ring as he waits for him to say something.

“I suppose hoping for you to start was too much to ask for.” Lyle sighs. “Are we still doing this?”

“This?” Querl asks, his mind running through at least a dozen ideas of what ‘this’ could entail. The conversation, the previous conversation, their acquaintanceship as a whole…

“You know exactly what I mean,” Lyle says, uncrossing his arms to gesture towards him. “Breaking up, taking your sprocking mother’s advice. This entire idiotic thing.”

“Why is me caring about you all of a sudden idiotic?”

“Because you’re framing it like you care about me, but you’re refusing to listen to what I’m actually saying! I’m not ready to give up on this, us, but you seem so damn intent on it all of a sudden.” Lyle doesn’t get it, he’s focusing on the wrong things again, acting like this whole thing is on Querl. As if it can not be true just because his mother brought it up.

“It’s not about what I want, it’s about what has the most beneficial outcome in the long run. And we have no evidence that this is it.” Surely Lyle, of all people, should be able to understand that.

“What kind of evidence could there be? Do you want to peer review our relationship? Perhaps create a control group and apply for a grant?”

“Be serious. Evidence that this kind of relationship can even have a favourable outcome in the first place. We’re not a common coupling, perhaps there’s a reason for that.”

“Oh? Could that reason be that there are like twelve Coluans living off-world and most of them are centuries older than you?” Lyle asks. Despite the edge of mockery in his voice he’s not wrong. Most Coluans aren’t cleared to go off-world until they’re a lot older than him, and most of them are taught to keep to themselves. He is, as he so often is, an anomaly in that regard. But it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t disprove the untested nature of their relationship.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Lyle falls quiet and Querl risks meeting his stare, dark and rimmed and looking almost as tired as he feels, swirling with something desperate. When Lyle speaks again it’s in a lower voice, devoid of the earlier edge.

“Querl, I love you. I’ve loved you for years and I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you,” he says. “This is absurd. I don’t need you to act like you’re saving me something.”

“What do you need?”

"I need you to trust me enough to talk to me about these things, and to trust my opinion over your mother’s. There's no point in us being together if you can't do that." Querl fumbles for words, his mind drowning in engulfing dark brown eyes and venomous thoughts he shouldn’t listen to, telling him he should just go along with it. He looks away.

“Discussing certain subjects could be hurt- or even harmful,” he says, biting back anything but the bare logic. His feelings don’t matter, won’t change the pain he’s capable of causing, he has to ignore them.

“And you think this isn’t hurtful?” Lyle’s voice rises again. “You think I’ve been having a great week of not feeling like shit because my relationship started falling apart out of nowhere?”

"It was not my intention to hurt you."

"Which is a great thought, but your intentions don’t mean nass if this is what you’re doing with them. You can't decide for yourself what will hurt me or what's good for me.” Lyle stops, breaths an uneven, shaky breath. “At least not, you know, with these things. That has to be a conversation."

“Being forced to make a decision could be more hurtful.” Querl grits his teeth, tries to keep himself focused, to ignore the ever increasing buzz of regret at the back of his mind threatening to spill forth the second he missteps. He needs to be better.

“Not being given a choice is always going to be more hurtful in the long run. You should know that.”

“I’ve never be-”

“In life, at large, not just relationships. Look at me!” Against his better judgement his eyes snap back to Lyle’s own. He’s drowning again. “There, great. Everything you’ve told me about your past makes it sound like you’ve been jerked around at every opportunity, did you like that? Was that fun for you?”

“It’s not the same,” he replies lamely, feeling his focus and resolve falter even as he’s saying it.

“Isn’t it? No one has ever tried to do something you hated because they thought it was helpful? Grief, Querl, this can’t be the first sprocking time you’ve ever had to think about this.”

“Maybe not,” he offers. A large part of his time on Colu feels like a blur these days, an indistinguishable mass of time that was never quite his. He’d hated it, he’d felt nothing, he’d lost himself in his work until he’d stopped feeling like he had to be an actual person too, shutting everything out except when he couldn’t. “But I… This is entirely different from what my life was before the Legion, even before the anomaly and my mother’s return,” he continues, his mouth dry. Before he’d felt so many things and known there was a future outside of the endless pursuit of trying to make up for the crimes of his ancestors. ”And this isn’t about me.”

“It is, though. You can’t tell me you’d be fine with me trying to dictate your life. That’s not what this is supposed to be about,” Lyle says, leaning forward, face hard-set.

“How am I supposed to know what this is about. It’s just... It’s just complicated.” Querl’s eyes sting and his pulse pounds in his ears.

“So complicated you don’t want to do it?” He should say yes, lie and finally cut them both loose.

“... No.”

“Great, then we’re still on the same page about that, at least. Incredible work, wanna talk about the actual issue now or should we keep arguing around it all night?”

“No, I suppose not.” Querl breaths in, trying to gather himself, his mind filled with the jagged pieces of his shattered resolve. “Do you find it acceptable to date someone who will not age at the same rate as you do, primarily physically but potentially also mentally?” he asks, mechanically, for a nauseating split second reminding himself of his mother and her script.

"Yeah, again, I'm not sure we'll be dating forever. Which isn't an indictment, relationships aren't meaningless or bad or a waste of time just because they don't last forever, but it does mean that it might not even be an issue in the first place,” Lyle says, nonchalant if not for the guarded set of his face. A mask good enough that most wouldn't see through it.

"And if it is?" Querl prompts.

"I don't know, it’s hard to say without knowing exactly how it’ll play out. I guess I might want kids someday and that could be hard for, well, several reasons. But I stopped planning that far ahead after what happened to Jac. I’d rather just let this take its course and see where it ends, but I need to know I can trust you to do that. What about you, are you fine with doing this?

"I-...” He hesitates. “I never thought I’d actually have a choice in the matter."

"But if you did?"

Querl shakes his head slowly, eyes faltering. Nights of sleeplessness and the receding heat of the argument start to overtake him, numbing both his body and mind. His head swims, filled with thoughts of years of not knowing and often not even caring what happened to him as a person. He has no idea what he wants. He wants Lyle, to reach out to him and feel his warm skin against his own and forget every stupid idea he’s ever had and the last week of trying to convince himself that he needs to do better. To give in to his own selfish, hungry desires.

Lyle pulls off his gloves and reaches for his hands, stopping just short of touching them.

"Can I?" he asks. Their eyes meet. Querl nods, then grasps Lyle’s hands himself. The touch of his hands, marked and scared by years of work beyond his age, is warm and familiar. Lyle rubs his thumbs over his knuckles.

"So, you don’t know and I don’t know. Kinda seems to me like we just have to find out for ourselves," he says with a softness Querl doesn’t deserve.

"I suppose so." He takes a breath, feels it burn in his throat. "I am sorry that I didn't talk to you first. And for making you feel bad. It was not my intention, but it wasn’t right."

"Thank you. I'm sorry for kinda blowing up at you."

"It may, perhaps, have been justified." Querl blinks, forcing back the stinging sensation in his eyes.

"Maybe so, but still. Friends?"

"Perhaps slightly more?" Querl asks, daring a half-hearted grin.

Lyle snorts.

"Fair, good, saves me from having to break into your room later," he says, amusement evident in his voice. The tension in Querl’s chest starts to dissolve, seeping out of him with every word.

"And why would you need to do that?"

"Well, it turns out most of my clean shirts are here now."

"And theft is easier than getting your laundry done?"

"Obviously."

Querl closes the gap between them, moving across the uncomfortable couch until he can lean into the curve of Lyle’s body and let the familiar warmth fully overtake him.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.” Lyle lets go of one of his hands to wrap an arm around his waist, tugging him closer yet. “It hasn’t been great.”

“I’m sorry.” It seems so easy to say it now, so trivial to forget the heat of the previous moment now that it’s over.

“It’ll be alright. We’ll learn from it.”

“Yeah.” Querl leans his head on Lyle's shoulder, letting his hair cascade over his shoulder. He presses a quick, chaste kiss to his neck and wraps his own free arm around his waist, burying himself in his presence. “Am I selfish, for wanting this?” he asks, voice low.

“Am I selfish for wanting this?” Lyle asks in return, squeezing his hand.

“No.”

“Then there you go. It’s fine to want things.” Lyle lets go off his waist, lazily dragging his warm hand across Querl’s back until it comes to rest at the nape of his neck, his fingers softly intertwining themselves in the slightly too long hair there. A shudder travels down his spine. He hooks the hand at Lyle’s waist into his belt, the metal cold against his hand. Feeling Lyle against him, smelling the faint mix of his cologne, sweat and space travel, his strong arm resting against Querl’s back and the slight softness of his stomach against his knuckles, feels like home. Like he belongs there, despite what his mother or rationality might say.

He can’t even begin to imagine how much he would have missed this.

Lyle turns his head, nuzzling into Querl’s hair. "Still doesn’t make any sense how you can have such nice hair.”

"Inferior human hair follicles, hm?" he hums, not entirely sure if Lyle will hear him at all. His body suddenly feels heavy, like the last days' worry has finally started to settle over him. He blinks, each time slower than the last, having to fight just a little harder each time to open his eyes again.

"Nah, I think some cosmic force decided you have to be just as attractive as you're difficult to deal with."

"I'm not difficult," Querl says, stifling a yawn.

"Uhu, and you're also not falling asleep on me right now?"

"Sprock you," he says, pressing another kiss to Lyle’s neck.

"Love you too, though I need to shower off all the space dust if you've decided it's bed time."

Querl sighs and gives Lyle's neck one last kiss before he starts to unfold himself, not at all inclined to let go of any part of his partner or welcome the cold that settles over his skin when they’re not touching. He doesn’t want to let go of him again. Not now, perhaps not ever.

"You can join, if you want," Lyle offers, sounding just as tired as he feels. “I’ll even let you use some real shampoo.”

"I've already showered today and, as you may recall, last time I took you up on that offer we had anything but a quick shower." Querl clears his throat. He supposes that’s technically a lie. The actual shower was quick enough.

"Hm, yeah. Oh well, give me a few." Lyle stands up and stretches out his arms above his head, freezing halfway through the motion to glance back down at Querl. "You are OK with me sleeping here again, right?"

"Unequivocally.”

[shrinkthisviolet]

Talk Shop Tuesday: how different is Morgan now from when you first came up with the idea for her?

Oh, quite different 😂 not in a lot of ways, but in a few major ones.

For one thing, she originally had super strength, like Griffin Grey. I never really figured out how to explain away her lack of rapid aging though. I considered nanotech, but that would've required Eowells to inject them into her while she was asleep, and...even though that’s plausible for him (anything to save his precious treasure/legacy and all that), it still felt excessive. Too close to what Eiling is like. Not to mention...did Eowells even know of Griffin Grey? There wasn’t any reason for him to think Morgan having super strength would accelerate her aging...and by the time he figured it out, she would've aged too quickly already.

All that said, I decided to try some other powers for her...and what stuck is forcefields. Honestly it fits her character better too 💞 she’s always been a protector, and that carries forward throughout the AU and beyond. It’s also a contrast, in early s1, between how shady everyone thinks Sentry is, when her powers are more defensive than anything (ofc they can be used offensively, but their main impetus is defense).

Another change is, ofc, her not being very close with Barry and Iris in the original. She would’ve been friends with Barry and kinda close with Iris (closer with Barry than Iris, though both relationships would’ve strengthened over time)...and Barry and Morgan one day being stepsiblings would’ve been awkward not only because of barely knowing each other’s parents (Henry and Tina), but also because they didn’t consider each other siblings at that point in time. It would be an adjustment for their friendship.

But when I started writing the s1 arc...Morgan being coworkers with Iris made for a great entry point, so ofc that had to happen, and ofc Iris would’ve befriended her—she’s canonically a social butterfly. And Barry & Morgan...well I fell in love with them the more I wrote about them, so they became close quickly and have already progressed to siblinghood by 1x14’s end 😅

It was a major divergence from my plan, but...honestly it’s so much better. Iris gets to be looped in earlier, she and Morgan get to be a strong female friendship that canon desperately needed (there were a few, but none really focused on much), Barry & Morgan get to be one of the driving forces of the AU from early on (that scene of Morgan panicking over his paralysis in 2x6 hits so much harder with this context too)...and their sibling relationship has inspired a number of my AU spin-offs 🥰 changing their first meeting and seeing how they still become as close as siblings regardless (in even easier ways, really).

Moral of the story is, sometimes divergences are for the best 💞 and can make your story stronger!

talk shop tuesday!

Taglist (send an ask or DM to be added or removed):

@arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @raith-way @vexic929 @ironverseocs

@thechaoticfanartist @goldheartedchaoticdisaster @negative-speedforce @starstruckpurpledragon @angst-is-love-angst-is-life

@miss-eli-starfleet

[yanderefairyangel]

Why can't I turn into a big dragon like you and Father ?

That's what Nil is saying.

However, in transcription he is saying "boku ga doushite, chichiue ya oneechan mitai ni ooki na ryu ni narenai no ?"

父上/chichiue is a rather old fashioned way of saying "father" compared to the likes of otosan or even otosama/お父様 which Nel use to refer to Sombron.

Literaly chichiue can be translated as meaning "honorable/honored father" while otosama could be seen as meaning "Lord father" (if you are familiar with Genealogy, all the girl who call their older brother onisama have it translated as lord brother). This can be used by royals in video game since it's very old fashioned like Diamant and Alcryst calling Morion chichiue.

However Nil calls Nel oneechan : big sister. Oneechan/お姉ちゃん means big sister in a very affectionate way and is considered to be childish as children use it more then grown up to refers to their older siblings. Veyle calls F!Alear oneechan as well to reinforce her childish and innocent nature.

Now what I'd like to point out is that the use of those two terms is showing something. Nil is a young child, he is at best 10 physically, so him using oneechan makes sense, but what is weird is the use of such a formal and old fashion way to speak of his father, chichiue. This creates a distance with Sombron while reinforces his love for Nel. And I'd point it out but those words are in kanji, like the word dragon/ryu, whereas the rest is in hiragana, this creates an emphasis on those words. Here the use of chichue show the rather cold relationship Xenobron has with his spawn and the warm relationship between the twins.

Now about Rafal

At the begining of the DLC "Nil" calls Nel "neesan"/姉さん instead of onechan. This is still very casual but at first you could interpret it as Nil simply stopping to call her that way cause he is a grown up adult now and that using it, especially in front of someone is no longer seen as acceptable, since he also stopped using hiragana to say boku and instead use kanji. However... Rafal still calls Nel 姉さん after the end of the DLC. And that's the thing.

Did Rafal always called her 姉さん ? Rafal is someone who speaks in a rather old fashion way, so him calling Xenobron chichiue, like Nil does is less surprising, its also possible he calls him that way to emulate Nil. However, if he always called her 姉さん, this indicate something. Rafal took Nil's place when he was still a young child, at an age where Nil would call Nel oneechan, so if when he took his place and from that moment to the current days, he called her neesan instead, this might have been a clue for Nel that he wasn't Nil. If Rafal has a child already had a similar personality to now, it's clear that calling someone oneechan would sound out of character... and he would probably die rather then do this.

So the appellation neesan would actually end up being something more then it actually seems. This would be the one thing that in those 1 000 years the two spend together would distingusih Rafal and Nel's relationship from Nil and Nel's. This would actually explain why Nel and Rafal ended up building, despite the deceit, an actual sibling relationship that would mean this much to the guy, not even realizing that in reality, Nil didn't had that with Nel. That it is the one thing he owes in his siblinghood with Nel, calling her neesan.

Also, excuse me but

Look at me stray up in the eyes and tell me this isn't reminding you of how Alear calls Lumera kasaan

[copiousloverofcopia]

Here is the next chapter of angst and romance for Primo and Sister to be Guinevere!

Thank you as always for your patience and I hope you all like it, especially you @the-cardinale lol

(PLEASE SEE TAGS)

Potpourri

During his retirement, Papa Primo Emeritus falls in love with a new Sister of Sin who has suffered a tragic loss. While the new sister settles into the Abbey, Primo can't help but grow more infatuated with her. Promising to give her everything she desires, but can he win her affections when she still can't let go of the past?

Chapter 3: The Ties That Bind

Also available HERE on AO3! Needing to start from the beginning, click HERE.

The feel of the pillow, pressed gently against her cheek, was the most welcomed feeling she’d had in a long time. Tears were steadily rolling over her cheeks as Gwen curled up on the bed. Her mascara, staining the white cotton—a beautiful and melancholic pattern that spoke the pain inside her soul. It was over.

She was left empty. The attempt at mending her wounded soul, had left her just as barren and barely stitched together as she was before. Would there be no mercy? No return for things lost. 

Gwen sobbed, holding tight to that damn pillow, as if it held what was left of hope within its threads. Her child was truly gone forever to the infinite nothing. Gone without her ever having known them. She clenched her teeth, the tears coming faster and faster. 

She felt lied to. Was she really asking for too much? What had she done to deserve such an egregious thing? God was long dead, and now her hope for Lucifer’s blessings fell short of its promises. Promises she had already known, somewhere deep down, were too good to be true. 

Her heart felt as if it may burst in her chest. The ache that comes from a loss that cannot be described in words—only feelings. A true bittersweet feeling of having something so precious and losing it before it could be held. She knew now she was never going to have what she wanted and there was absolutely nothing she could do. 

The Abbey had felt more alive than it had in years. The halls were spry with excitement and more than the usual buzzing, in the weeks after the group's arrival. The vigor and eagerness the novitiate and seminarians brought with them, had revitalized even Secondo’s cold and standoffish demeanor. The Abbey, and its inhabitants, had already incorporated them all seamlessly into daily life. It was as if they had been there all along. 

It had lived up to its promise for most, giving them a life that could be lived deliciously. Truly a place where even the blackest of sheep would be welcomed into the flock. Things were going so well for everyone and in a few short days, each and every fledgling would take their ceremonial "fall from heaven" and land in the bosom of Satan. All of them, taking their vows and performing their rituals to become wholly siblings of sin. 

It would be a time to remember. It was said, rumors spreading like wildfire through the Abbey, that Papa Copia would be returning for a few days to help with the officiation of their siblinghood. All of them beaming with excitement and nerves as they waited for any sign he had returned. First however would be confession, a moment for them to unburden their souls before entering their new lives. 

As with any confession, no one would “know” who was on either end of the partition. The Papas, all taking turns throughout the day to listen to them. In and out the siblings went. Some were crying, however wearing a smile spread across their faces, as they left the booth. Feeling the heavy weight of the life lead before, fading away as they began anew. 

Other’s smiled both in and out. Though some were in carnal satisfaction—considered to be well spent time in confession. The offending Papa, looking just as stupid-faced and dewy cheeked with pleasure, with their shared sin. Sister Imperator was amazed with both Secondo and Terzo’s appetites, that anything was getting done. 

When it came for Primo’s to take his turn, he was humbled. Ever grateful for his position within the church, he adjusted his chasuble before entering. The first Emeritus son, taking pride in his robes more than any other Papa before or after him. His connection with the realm beyond, and his appreciation for the old ways, giving him a closer tie than anyone to the Unholy Father.

He lowered himself down onto the chair, running his hands over the fabric to flatten the wrinkles and taking a deep breath in. The scent of incense and sweat, hitting him full force has he inhaled. Primo scoffed, muttering to himself in Italian at his annoyance with his brothers. “They could at least wipe things down and spray something.” Primo said as he heard the booth door open. 

“Papa?” A voice came from the other side of the screen, Primo knew instantly who it was. It had been weeks since the dinner, his answer to Gwen’s questions leading her back to her dorm in devastation. Primo had avoided being too close to her since. Worried that talking with him, even in passing, may reignite her sadness. But it seemed it didn’t matter. 

From that day on she had continued as usual. Returning to the refectory the next morning as if nothing had happened. He watched her, grabbing her food and sitting among the others. Selling the facade of being alright and like nothing had changed. Her performance so well, he was sure that she'd fooled all the others. Primo could tell though, her aura, still pale and just barely noticeable giving her away.

Ever since he saw her that first day, he was captivated by her. Primo, longing still to get to know her—even if just to listen to her speak. To hear what she thought of everything. Though things had not gone well so far, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her. Desiring to be close to her, even after learning about her past.

“Please, my child. Unburden yourself.” Primo said softly. Gwen sat down on the small stool within the booth, hands trembling and her heart beating fast inside her chest. 

“Papa, I have something I wish to…” Gwen sighed, clearly struggling to find her next words. Primo couldn’t help but smile. Her voice was still ever so sweet and kind. Though he could hear beneath it, the hints of sadness. Like the gentle trickling of piano keys or the glide of a violin’s bow–played in melodic minor.

He was invested in whatever it was she would confess. Ready to be there to help her through it all, imagining himself by her side. He felt surprised, as the thoughts washed over him. It had been so long since he’d heard her sweet voice. He knew in that moment that he had already begun to develop feelings for her. His heart, fluttering as she began to speak once more.  

“I want to apologize for wasting the Ministry's time.” she confessed, Primo, sitting up straight in his chair at her words. Confused and worried at their implication. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“No…I’m sorry…you see I came here under false pretenses.” she confessed. Primo was ready to go to her. To meet her on the other side of the booth. Taking her in his arms and telling her that everything would be ok. He could hear her struggling to hold back tears. Her voice, cracking a bit between words as she continued on.

“Please child go on.” he said, battling his instinct to retrieve her. 

“I didn’t come here because I wanted to worship Lucifer or so that I might live a life true to my nature in sin. I came because I wanted something. Something that I now know I will never get, and I fear I have wasted all of your time and for that I apologize. I will be leaving soon, before the rituals and I wanted someone to know. I wasn’t sure how to go about it any other way.” she explained sniffling back as Primo took his turn to speak. 

“You can still find happiness here.” he told her, listening to her laugh—one Primo was sure was accompanied by tears. 

“N othing here is worth staying for.”  

“Nothing? What about you…aren't you worth it?”

“No.” Gwen replied, the tears escaping her eyes and flowing freely. 

“Remember dolce, he fell so that we might be burned in the rivers of eternal flame. So that we all might know the truth of ourselves, unabashed by the will of God. So that we can all be happy…even you.” Primo explained, hoping in vain that his words would change her mind. Worried that she’d follow through and leave—only after he was beginning to understand his feelings for her. His cosmic draw to forever by her side. 

“I appreciate that, but I will be taking my leave. Please forgive me Papa…Nema.” Gwen finished, standing up and exiting the booth. Primo moved faster than he had in years, flinging open the door and revealing himself to her. Their eyes, locked together outside the confession booth.

“Papa Primo?” she asked, wiping quickly at her eyes to hide the tears that had fallen.

“Si…I need to confess something to you as well.” he told her. Gwen stared at him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Allowing him to speak his peace before she left, knowing she intended to never return. 

“I’m sorry—”

“Guinevere…I know.”

“Know what Papa?” Gwen asked him. She waited, hoping her gut instinct was wrong. That he didn't know what was eating away at her inside. When Primo’s own eyes began to fill with tears, it only served to confirm he knew before speaking the words.  

“I know about the baby.” he admitted, watching the color drain from Gwen’s face. He could tell she was fighting hard not to cry again. Resisting the overwhelming desire to fall apart before him. Frightened with the need to be held by him—a man she barely knew. 

“I need to go now.” was all Gwen could say, turning away from Primo and starting down the nave. Primo reached out quickly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to face him. Both of them for a moment wondering if they’d share a kiss. A kiss that didn’t come, only more tears to shed between them. 

“The cost of these small desires is great, and I know you've paid a heavy price. I am sorry that I didn’t know before we spoke at your arrival dinner. My answer and my brother's comments may have been less harsh had we known.

“It’s not your fault Papa. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go.” Gwen said, pulling back hard from Primo’s grasp and briskly taking off. He watched her disappear from the chapel as he slumped against the door of the booth. His heart, heavy and his mind fixed on his affections for her. 

The rest of the day was quiet. Primo spent the rest of afternoon in confession, though his mind stayed on Guinevere. By the time supper rolled around, he was ravenous for the evening's bounty. The stress increasing his hunger as he listened to the sounds of his stomach growling.

As Primo took his seat at the front of the refectory, he felt more at ease.  Everyone was eating peacefully, all gathered together as they did every night. The hum of shared community and conversation, floating in the air. Primo, who was normally an active participant in the debates and pleasantries at mealtimes, chose now to say quiet in his chair. His lack of quick-witted commentary and polite suggestions did not go unnoticed. 

“What's got you all glum?” Terzo asked, his voice breaking through Primo's inner thoughts. He looked up from his plate, setting down his fork and dapping the corners of his mouth with his napkin before speaking.

“Non è niente, per favore non me ne vogliate.” he replied. Mr. Saltarian now watching his reaction to the question. Noticing the minor changes in his behavior—something was indeed bothering him. Sister Imperator interrupted. A trait Primo found most distasteful, but so very much a common occurrence for her. 

“Papa, I did notice you’ve been a bit distracted tonight. Worried about the rituals tomorrow?” she laughed teasing him. Primo gave an insincere smile back. She was contemptible in her disregard to the Papacy. Choosing to act as if she were on their level. Primo, allowing it only to keep the peace between her and Papa Nihil. His father, who now was nothing more than spirit of unrest that resided in Imperator's wing of the Abbey. 

“Of course, not Sister.” he replied, feeling the hand resting on his shoulder. Primo gave a glance back to see Saltarian taking a seat beside him. “I am just ready for Copia to be home, I have missed him so much these last few weeks.”

“Oh, then the rumors are true?” delighted a sibling from another table, the whole room taking notice. Primo smiled at Sister Imperator, watching her face fill with subtle irritation. It was to be her announcement at dinner. Two can play at this game , he thought to himself, stealing the moment from her. 

“Well now that the cat is out of the bag…” Sister Imperator said, addressing the siblings and the others. Allowing Primo and Saltarian a moment to speak. 

“So, tell me know amico…what has actually got you in so deep in your own head?” he asked. Primo adjusted in his chair, collecting his thoughts before answering him. He wasn’t sure if he should tell him about the interaction at all, let alone his feelings for Gwen. It was only today that Primo had truly began to understand them.  

“Honestly Salare…it's Guinevere.” Of course, it was and Saltarian already knew. Still however he wanted to hear it from Primo’s own mouth. Primo chewed on his bottom lip a bit more before continuing. “I spoke with her at confession today.”

“I see and I assume she told you the truth during it?” Mr. Saltarian asked him.

“Actually, she told me that she made a mistake coming here…” Primo explained before Saltarian interrupted him.

“What do you mean?”

“She said she wasn’t worth it and nothing else here was either. That she was sorry she wasted our time. There is something else…” Primo mentioned, taking in a deep breath as he prepared to confess his feelings to his best friend when suddenly Saltarian stood up from the table, catching the eyes of all three Emeritus brothers and some of the Papal ghouls. 

“She said those words?!” Saltarian asked, commanding an answer. Extremely bold for him, as Primo was Papa, but the implications of his disregard for position sent an icy chill down Primo’s spine. He shot up out his chair too, now realizing that Gwen was nowhere in the refectory. Suddenly it all made sense. She was not just planning on leaving the Abbey.

“Sweet Lucifer!” Primo said as he and Saltarian left the table—Secondo, Terzo, and a few ghouls trailing quickly behind them. Only Primo and Saltarian knew what was going on, making their way as fast as they could to the pledge dormitory

When they reached the dorms, Secondo and Terzo got a feeling they knew what might be happening. There was a moment, during their race to the sibling wing, when the shaky conversation between Primo and Saltarian tipped them off. Though they knew not the details, they knew that a sibling was missing from dinner and with the look on their brother and Mr. Saltarian’s face, they had a pretty good idea as to the reason why.

It wasn’t the first time a tragedy had taken place at the Abbey. This time it felt personal, the two of them watching as Primo’s face filled with pain and panic. There was more to this story than anyone was letting on.  When they arrived at the dorm, they let themselves inside. There was no one there, just a pair of empty beds to greet them. Then suddenly one of the ghouls took a deep inhale, his nose twitching away as he spoke. 

“Is that…blood?” he asked, Primo’s pupils widening as he was now able to smell it himself. The scent emanating from behind the closed door of the bathroom.  

“Oh cazzo, no!” he yelled, breaking down the door with the help of the ghouls. The broken wood, quickly, revealing Gwen laying in a bathtub tinted red with blood. Her wrists were slit, down the center of her forearms. Her face, stained with tears. 

Primo rushed inside, pulling her limp body out of the tub. The water spilling over the sides and onto the floor around them. She was unconscious but still, barely, alive. The shallow breathing, just barely noticeable as she was quickly slipping away.

“She's lost so much blood.” Terzo stammered, taking in the horror and shock of the scene before him.

“Quick, get me…. me some ribbon and the black and red bottle from the top shelf of my storage closet in the greenhouse…NOW!” Primo ordered. His voice, a tone none had ever heard before—one that sent the ghouls running off at an unimaginable pace. Ready to fetch all that was asked of them. 

“Fratello she’s too far gone.” Secondo reasoned, Primo would hear none of it, holding Gwen close to his chest, both of them drenched in bath water and blood. Primo began to weep, he would do anything to bring her back. It was not her time, he knew it. If she only knew she could be happy again. 

“No! I will not let her go.” Primo hissed, rocking her in his arms. The ghouls returned in record time, with the ribbon and the bottle. Primo quickly worked to pour the liquid from inside it over her wounds. Tying the ribbon around her wrists and then, his own.

“You can’t be serious?” Secondo growled, knowing now exactly what his brother planned to do. 

“I am.”

“Are you willing to die with her when she chooses this again?” he yelled, angry with Primo.

“She won’t.” Primo assured him, pulling tight the tie around his own wrist with his teeth. Primo grabbed a knife from his pocket, slicing open his palm. He winced as he squeezed his hand over Gwen’s wrists and holding them steady. Mixing her blood with his as he began to chant. 

“Rinuncio all'autonomia della mia vita per tenere ancora una volta la tua anima con il vaso. Ti do una seconda possibilità con un sacrificio del sangue che scorre nelle mie vene. Guarisci il tuo vaso in modo che tu ed io possiamo essere uno per sempre nella sua vita. Ciò che è sopra, lascia che sia così sotto.” he spoke with intention. His words methodically and carefully pronounced as they left his lips. 

The room filled with silence a moment before the old floorboards began to shake beneath them. The ghouls and brothers, staggering backward as they caught themselves on various things within the room. Primo still with Gwen on the floor, tears of blood beginning to pour from his eyes as he wept for Guinevere. The ribbon tied between them began to tighten—pulsing with energy before it disappeared into both of their skin. The supple flesh of Gwen’s arm slowly returning to return to her—leaving only a small scar in its wake. The blush of color had returned to her cheeks, her pulse no longer thready, and the blood that surrounded them gone. No trace of any of it had been left behind—as if it never happened.

Primo stood up, slowly lifting Gwen into his arms. He was not a young man, but a strong one nonetheless. Though he cursed, under his breath, the age that had taken hold in his knees. He continued on carrying Gwen within his embrace towards the door.

Secondo stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder to remind him he was there. Everyone else in the room, including Terzo, too stunned to speak. Primo was indeed powerful and it was this night, only like any before it that he had proved it to them. “Fratello?” Secondo asked, as Primo turned to facing both his brothers. A sense of relief finally filling him. 

“She will make it; I have made sure of that. I will bring her back to my suite so that I may keep close watch on her.” he started, watching as the need to speak, yanked hard on Secondo’s mouth. “...and I will hear nothing from any of you.” Primo told them as he carried her off to his rooms. Gwen, still unconscious and unaware of anything that had happened, loose in Primo’s loving arms.  

“It’s alright amore. I will walk with you through this…this life…and the next.” Primo whispered, kissing the top of her head as they entered his rooms.

Notes:

Non è niente, per favore non me ne vogliate.- It is nothing, please don’t mind me.

Amico- friend

Salare- salt

oh cazzo, no!- oh fuck, no!

Rinuncio all'autonomia della mia vita per tenere ancora una volta la tua anima con il vaso. Ti do una seconda possibilità con un sacrificio del sangue che scorre nelle mie vene. Guarisci il tuo vaso in modo che tu ed io possiamo essere uno per sempre nella sua vita. Ciò che è sopra, lascia che sia così sotto.. I give you a second chance with a sacrifice of the blood that runs through my veins. Heal your vessel so that you and I can be one forever in his life. What is above, let it be so below.