#trying to make it clearer in this one where the quotes are from

[deadhawke]

Quotes from Rogue (novelization) by Kate Herron and Briony Redman

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART IV: TONIGHT, I WALK AWAY

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part V

wc: 7.8k cw: violence, angst, major character death author's note: Honestly I'm starting to get why TWD writers do what they do after writing this chapter... I also apologize for taking so long for this chapter, my classes are starting now so updates will be a bit a slower </3 **also some eastereggs but the sonnet 73 quote I have is mentioned in the scene where Grayson talks about love. It's pretty much the translated modern English definition of the quote! The make a wish dialogue is also from the movie Dangerously Yours (1937), that scene always gets me so I had to include it haha

You drift in and out of consciousness, the world around you a hazy blur of pain and disjointed voices. Through the fog, you catch glimpses of three figures engaged in intense discussion.

Sevika's there, her face etched with worry. Beside her stands a tall, bald gaunt man and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are sunken, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. The third figure is shorter, with slicked-back dark hair and a prominent scar running down one side of his face, his right eye a striking shade of green.

Their voices filter through your muddled thoughts:

"...low on medical supplies for a procedure like this," the masked man says, his voice muffled and clinical. "There's no sure chance she can make it."

"I'll go to the hospital."

"It’s too dangerous." The scarred man's voice is sharp and skeptical.

"We've been low on supplies for too long," Sevika argues. "It's time we do it now. We cannot lose any more people."

Their words fade as you slip back into darkness, only to resurface again as you're being moved. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you're on some kind of gurney, the ceiling passing by overhead. You try to move, but your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. Glancing down, you see your wrists are handcuffed to the sides of the bed.

Panic surges through you as you realize you're being rolled into what looks like a makeshift operating room. The masked man and the scarred one are there, now wearing blood-stained surgical gowns. You try to fight, to call out, but your body won't cooperate.

The scarred man leans over you, his mismatched eyes boring into yours. "It will be over soon," he says, his voice oddly soothing despite the circumstances. Then he's lowering a gas mask over your face, and the world fades to black.

When you wake again, your mind is clearer, though your body feels like it's been run over by a truck. The scarred man is sitting in a chair beside your bed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Ah, you're awake," he says, leaning forward. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if we'd miscalculated."

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, raw. He holds up a hand, silencing you.  

"No need to strain yourself. I just wanted to... observe you.” He pauses. "It's been a long time since I've had to perform a procedure like that. It’s quite a reminder of what still lurks beyond these walls. How we’ve grown complacent."

Your eyes drift to his face, lingering on the scar that runs down the right side, bisecting his eye. The eye itself is a startling shade of green, almost luminescent against his pale skin. You must have been staring, because the man chuckles, a dry, humorless sound.

"Curious, aren’t you?" A sardonic smile twists his features. "It’s only natural - people always wonder. But few ever ask. It’s a souvenir from when Zaun was still crawling out of the muck. When men I called brothers tried to drag me back down for a piece of land." 

His finger traces the scar slowly, almost lovingly. "This... this was their parting gift." He trails off, then continues in a near-whisper. "Have you ever felt pain so exquisite it becomes transcendent? For days, I danced on the knife's edge between genius and madness."

His gaze refocuses on you, sharp and penetrating. "But pain, you see, can be transformative. It stripped away my naivety, my weakness. It forged me into something stronger, something capable of truly leading Zaun."

“I think I understand why Sevika is so fond of you." His lips curl into something that might be a smile but doesn't reach his eyes. "There's something in you, just like her. That part that's willing to sacrifice."

You furrow your brow, confusion, and wariness warring inside you.

"Some sacrifices are necessary to be made. But they're also weaknesses," He stands, smoothing down his shirt. "Something to consider."

With those cryptic words, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You're left alone, your mind racing with questions. Who were those men? What exactly happened to you? And how much time had gone by?

The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, and exhaustion soon follows. Despite your churning thoughts, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift into an uneasy sleep.

When you wake again, its by the sound of shuffling feet and the creak of a door opening. The haze of sleep still clings to your mind as you slowly become aware of your surroundings.

Sevika enters, holding a plate of food. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

"Hey," she says finally, her voice softer than you've ever heard it.

"Hey yourself," you reply, unable to keep a slight tremor from your voice.

Sevika sets the plate on your bedside table, then stands awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with her hands. "Thought you might be hungry," she mumbles.

You nod, a thousand questions bubbling up inside you. Where has she been? Why didn't she visit sooner? What happened after the surgery? But looking at her now, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the way she holds herself - tense, guarded - you decide those questions can wait.

Instead, you pat the bed beside you. "Sit with me?"

Sevika hesitates for a moment, then complies. As she settles beside you, you feel the warmth of her presence, so familiar yet somehow changed.

"I missed you," you say simply.

Sevika's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she schools it back to neutrality. "I... I'm glad you're okay," she replies, her voice gruff but sincere.

As you and Sevika sit together, you try to maintain a casual conversation, but there's an undercurrent of tension you can't ignore. Sevika's responses are clipped, her gaze never quite meeting yours. It's like she's looking through you, not at you.

"Hey," you say softly, reaching out to touch her arm. "What's going on?"

She turns slowly, her eyes finally meeting yours. But there’s something different in them, something that makes your heart clench. It’s infuriating, this distance she’s putting between you, this wall she’s building brick by brick.

“Sevika,” you say, trying to break through that wall. “Talk to me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Nothing can happen between us again,” she says, the words falling heavy between you like a death sentence.

You stare at her, disbelief mingling with hurt. “What?”

Her gaze flickers, something like pain flashing in her eyes before she steels herself again. “We can’t do this,” she says, her voice low and strained. “We can’t keep pretending this�� whatever this is… can last.”

You feel the ground shift beneath you like the world is falling away, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You’re really going to say that after everything?” Your voice cracks, the hurt seeping through despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. “How do you kiss someone, make them believe there’s something real, and then just—throw it away?”

Sevika’s jaw clenches, and she looks away, as if unable to bear the sight of your pain. “You can be mad at me, hate me if you want,” she says. “But it has to be this way.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, your heart breaking with every word. “I’m hurt, Sevika. I’m hurt because I care about you, and you’re pushing me away like none of it matters.”

“I know,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the hum of the machines. 

“Then why?” you demand, your voice wavering as you struggle to understand. “Why are you doing this?”

She finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the anguish in her eyes is like a punch to the gut. “Because if I let myself love you,” she says, her voice breaking on the word, “I know we’d never have enough time. ”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the despair that’s been brewing in your chest. “But isn't some time better than none at all? I'd rather have a handful of precious moments with you than spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if.'” The tears you’ve been holding back now streaming down your face. 

“Even if it hurts, even if it's brief – at least it would be real.”

Sevika shakes her head, her expression a storm of anger and fear. Her words come out in a rush, like she can't hold them back any longer.

"You don't understand. I was okay before you. I was okay with the idea of dying, of existing day after day without purpose until my time ran out. But now?" Her voice hardens. "Now I'm terrified. I'm not okay with losing you. I'm not okay with the thought that you could walk out that door and never come back."

“I didn't need this. I didn't need you to come along and give me a reason to call this godforsaken place home. I didn't need you to make me want to survive instead of just exist.”  She’s practically pleading now.  “Don't you see what you've done to me? Needing you means I have something to lose."

The weight of her confession crushes you, the finality of it sinking in. She’s not just pushing you away—she’s tearing herself apart to do it, ripping out the very thing that might make her feel alive, all because she’s so afraid of the pain it could bring.

“I’d shatter every bone in my body again if it meant keeping you safe,” you say, your voice trembling. “I’d do anything for you, Sevika, and it hurts so bad that you won’t let me.”

She turns her head away. “You’re too stubborn,” she whispers, her voice resigned. “You won’t stop, and neither will I, and it��ll kill us both in the end.”

“You look at me like I’m already dead,” you say, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “Like I’m a ghost you’ve been carrying around, waiting for the right moment to bury me.”

She flinches, the words cutting deep. “Because that’s what it feels like,” she confesses. “I feel like I’ve already lost you, and it’s killing me. I’d rather lose you now when we still have a chance to walk away than lose you out there, where I can’t protect you.”

The following silence is deafening, the air thick with everything neither of you can bring yourselves to say. You reach out, your hand trembling as you gently caress her cheek, trying to offer comfort in the only way you know how. She leans into your touch for a moment, her eyes closing as if she’s trying to savor it, to hold onto it before it’s gone.

“Are you doing this to protect me, or are you protecting yourself?” you ask softly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline, offering her one last chance to admit the truth.

She opens her eyes, and the pain you see there nearly undoes you. “Both,” she admits. “I’m protecting both of us. I’ll never survive the day I lose you. And I can’t—” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard, her eyes pleading with you to understand. “I can’t live.”

Your heart shatters as the reality of her words sinks in. She’s already decided, already convinced herself that this is the only way to keep you both safe, even if it means tearing herself apart in the process.

“Can I be alone?” you ask, your voice small and broken, the words barely escaping your lips.

Sevika nods, her expression tightening as she takes a step back. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll go.”

She turns to leave, but before she can take another step, you reach out. “Sevika, wait,” you say, your voice filled with desperation. “Can you hand me my bag?”

She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the bag and then back to you. After a moment, she nods and hands it to you, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments, sending a jolt of longing through you. You rummage through the bag, your heart pounding as you pull out the familiar fabric of her shawl.

You hold it out to her. “This belongs to you.”

Sevika stares at the shawl, her eyes widening as she realizes what it means. For a moment, she just stands there, looking at it like it’s a lifeline she’s too afraid to grasp. Then, she takes it from you.

She looks at you, and in her eyes, you see all the things she wants to say, all the things she’s too scared to admit. And then, without another word, she turns and walks out of the room, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving you alone with nothing but the ghost of her touch and the scent of her shawl lingering in the air.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You didn’t accept any visitors for days, under the guise that you were too tired and needed the rest to recover. But as tempting as curling in bed and crying over a woman that you never even had a proper relationship with was, you knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

Blinking, you see a group of people piling into your room.

Vander's deep voice rumbles, "Easy now, let's not overwhelm her."

Caitlyn is standing over you. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

Before you can answer, Powder chimes in, "Bet you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Am I right?"

"Something like that," you croak.

Your attention is drawn to the doorway where Grayson stands, little Ren in her arms. The child is clutching Grayson's yellow armband tightly.

Grayson sets Ren down gently. "Go on, little one," she says softly.

Ren doesn't need to be told twice. She rushes to your bedside, her small hands gripping the edge of the mattress. "Miss, are you okay?" she asks, her voice shakes slightly. "Will you be like Sevika?"

The innocence in her question tugs at your heart. You reach out, ignoring the twinge of pain from the movement and the mention of Sevika, to pat her hand. "No, darling," you reply softly. "Sevika is unique. I'll be just fine."

Grayson moves closer, her stern expression softening slightly. "That was brave," she says. "But also very idiotic of you."

You frown at the comment, the words too similar to Sevika’s at the prison.  

Vander's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "You gave us quite a scare," he says. "But you're tough. You'll pull through."

Caitlyn nods in agreement. "We've managed to replenish some of our medical supplies thanks to the hospital mission." she informs you. 

Vi adds with a smirk, "And don't even think about trying to get up and be a hero again anytime soon."

“Yeah… I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond hoarsely.  

Over the next week, your family comes and goes, their visits being the highlight of your monotonous days.  Grayson usually stopped by with Ren, the two were closer than you expected but Marcus had flitted in and out of Ren’s life so often that Grayson stepped up as a parental figure.  You offered to take care of the kid while you were still bed-bound, and Grayson only reluctantly agreed when you assured her it wouldn’t obstruct your healing process.

You find yourself sitting up in bed, Ren cross-legged beside you. Math worksheets are spread out between you.

"If an apple cost three dollars and you needed to buy five apples, how much would that cost?"

Ren's brow furrows in concentration. "Um... fifteen dollars?"

You beam at her. "That's right! You're getting good at this."

A knock at the door interrupts your math lesson and Vi pokes her head in, her red hair slightly disheveled.

"Hey, time to get moving," she says with a grin.

You turn to Ren, giving her a warm smile. "Let's do this again tomorrow, sweetie?"

Ren nods enthusiastically, gathering her papers. "Alright! Bye-bye, miss! I hope you feel better!"

As Ren scampers out, Vi approaches, offering her arm for support. You wince as you stand, your body still protesting the movement.

“Easy,” she murmurs, her tone softening as she watches your struggle. “Take it slow.”

You grit your teeth, focusing on her voice, on the feel of her arm supporting you. Slowly, you manage a few steps, each one a little less painful than the last. 

“How’s it feel?” Vi asks, keeping pace with you, her gaze never leaving your face.

“Like hell,” you admit with a shaky laugh, though there’s a small sense of victory in the simple act of standing on your own two feet again. “But better than yesterday.”

Vi nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Progress,” she says. “You’re getting stronger.”

As you slowly make your way down the hallway, Vi starts chatting about her day. "You wouldn't believe the shit from yesterday. We were chasing some survivors that tried to steal our shit through an alley, and then Sevika shows up out of nowhere and--" 

The moment the words are out, Vi winces, realizing her mistake too late.  You feel a sharp pang in your chest at the mention of Sevika's name. 

"Uh, anyway, we got the guy in the end.” she says.

“She… was?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Vi looks away, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s good,” you say, though the words feel like a lie even as they leave your lips. “It’s good that she caught them.”

Vi nods. “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s just… I miss her.  It’s stupid, we weren’t anything.”

“I know,” she says. “But it’s not stupid.”

There’s a long silence, the kind that’s filled with all the words neither of you know how to say. “If you didn’t have Caitlyn, would you be okay with all of this? Would you be able to live with everything we do?”

She’s quiet for a moment as she considers your words. “Do I have a choice?” she finally says, her voice tinged with a sadness you’ve rarely heard from her. “I have Powder. I have you, Vander… my family. I’d feel incomplete, sure, but I don’t have a choice. I have to keep going.”

“We’ll keep going, together.” She adds.

“Thanks, Vi.” Despite your gratefulness, her words feel like they’re coming from a distance, muffled by the grief you’re still trying to process. 

Your family helps you through it all, they talk to you about everything and nothing, filling the silence with stories. The days pass, and slowly, you begin to reclaim small pieces of yourself. You walk more, the physical therapy sessions become less of a struggle and more of a routine.

And each night, when the room is quiet and you’re alone with your thoughts, you think of Sevika. It’s not easy. Some days, the weight of it all feels unbearable, like you’re drowning in a sea of what-ifs and lost chances. But you keep going, step by step, knowing that it’s all you can do.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting session, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling as your thoughts drift. You think about Sevika, about the last time you saw her, the pain in her eyes as she walked away. And you wonder if she feels the same weight, if she’s struggling just as much to move on.

You close your eyes, and for a moment, you imagine her here, standing by your side. And as you drift off to sleep, you could swear you hear her voice, soft and broken, whispering in the dark.

“I failed you.”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The pantry is filled with the scent of canned goods and the faint rustle of paper bags. You’re focused on stacking cans of beans when your grip falters, and one slips from your fingers.

Before it can hit the ground, a hand darts out and catches it. You look up to see a man with a cocky grin. He’s tall and lean, with slicked-back hair and piercing teal eyes.  You don’t know why, but he looked oddly familiar.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing down here? Are we that understaffed that we’re making the injured work now?”

You snatch the can back from him. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you reply curtly, setting the can back on the shelf, “but I wanted to do this.”

He chuckles, leaning against the shelf with a casual arrogance. “Looks like supplies are running a bit thin,” he comments slyly, his eyes flicking to the half-empty shelves. “Maybe you should take it easy before you use up what little energy we have left.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your patience wearing thin. “I’m not interested in your opinion.”

Before he can retort, the door to the pantry swings open with a loud creak, and Sevika steps inside. The air changes instantly when her gaze zeroes in on the man. 

“Finn,” she growls. “What are you doing here?”

Finn straightens up and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just making sure our friend here isn’t overworking herself,” he says innocently.

“Get lost,” Sevika snaps. “Now.”

With a lazy shrug, Finn backs off, giving you a final, lingering look before sauntering out of the pantry. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone with Sevika. 

Sevika turns to you. “I was told you’re working here again,” she says, her voice sharp with disapproval. “Are you stupid? You’re barely healed.”

You bristle at her tone. "I needed to do something."

"Yeah, like babysitting Ren," she snaps. “Not this.”

"Why does it matter what I do?" you challenge, your voice rising.

For a moment, Sevika doesn’t answer, but then her eyes widen.

“You’re bleeding.” 

You blink, confused. “What?”

You look down and see a trickle of blood seeping through the bandages on your side. The pain hits you a second later, sharp and burning, but you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of her.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “I can bandage it myself.”

But Sevika is already moving toward you, her expression darkening with worry. “You’re not going back to your place like this,” she mutters. “Come on. My place is closer.”

Before you can protest, she’s already scooping you up into her arms. The world blurs around you as she carries you through the streets and you’re too shocked to resist.

When you reach her place, she sets you down on the edge of her bed, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before she pulls away.

“Just sit,” she instructs as she moves to grab a first aid kit from a nearby drawer.

“I can do it.” 

Sevika shakes her head, her expression set in a way that leaves no room for argument. “I have experience with this,” she says quietly. “Let me.”

You watch in silence as she works. Her hands, usually so strong and rough, are gentle as they press a fresh bandage against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way she handles you, in the way she refuses to meet your gaze as she focuses on the wound, that makes your chest ache.

Finally, Sevika finishes. She stands, the distance between you growing once more as she busies herself with putting away the first aid kit, her movements stiff and mechanical.

“Thanks.” You want to leave, not to be any more inconvenient than you already were but Sevika replies before you can say anything.

“You should rest,” she says, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth that was there just moments ago. “Don’t push yourself like that again.”

You reluctantly agree to stay and the tension in Sevika's shoulders eases slightly. She mumbles something about bringing dinner later and leaves you to rest.

Left alone, you take in your surroundings. The room is sparse, almost impersonal. Unlike the chaos in the other rooms, this space feels hollow. There are no personal belongings, no knick-knacks, nothing to suggest that she even uses this bed. It's as if the room itself is holding its breath, existing in a state of perpetual temporariness.

Exhaustion soon overtakes you, and you drift off to sleep. But you soon wake again at the sound of muffled voices.  Through the haze of half-consciousness, you hear one of Sevika's people inviting her to a party, but she declines. 

"Nah, I'm staying in today," you hear her say.

The voices fade, and you slowly wake up, disoriented. You stumble to the doorway of the living room, blinking sleep from your eyes. Sevika is there, dressed in casual clothes – a grey tank top and worn jeans with her hair down, falling in messy waves around her face.  She's cleaning up, a pile of bottles in her arms when she notices you.

"You're awake," she says, startled. "Shit, did I wake you up?"

You shake your head, your voice still rough with sleep. "No, you're good... Do you need help with that?"

"No. Fuck, sit down. What are you doing walking around?"

Still groggy, you comply without argument, sinking into the couch. Sevika dumps the bottles in a bag and turns back to you.

"I'm making dinner," she says, washing her hands at the sink. "You're okay with instant noodles and spam?"

The domesticity of the moment catches you off guard. "Sounds delicious," you manage to say.

Sevika nods and turns to the small kitchenette. You watch her move around the space. It's surreal, seeing her like this – relaxed, casual, making dinner for you both. For a moment, you can almost pretend things are different between you.

Sevika settles on the far arm of the couch next to you, the small distance between you both feeling more like a chasm. 

"Chopsticks or fork?" she asks, holding out both options.

"Chopsticks," you reply, and a ghost of a smile flickers across her face.

"Good choice," she murmurs, handing them to you.

You eat in comfortable silence, stealing glances at her when you think she's not looking. When you finish, Sevika collects the empty bowls.

"Want dessert?"

"Sure," you nod, watching as she retrieves an apple from the kitchen.

She settles back on the arm of the couch, peeling the apple with a small knife. "How's the physical therapy going?" Sevika asks, breaking the silence.

You shrug. "It's... going. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless."

She nods, placing slices onto a plate. "That's good. Don't push yourself too hard."

"Says the woman who never knows when to quit," you tease gently.

A wry smile tugs at her lips. "Do as I say, not as I do."

As you reach for the last slice, Sevika’s hand brushes your cheek. You freeze, the touch unexpected, and you look up at her, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.

“There’s an eyelash,” she says softly, her voice gentle as she carefully removes it from your face. She holds it up for you to see, the tiny, delicate lash resting on her fingertip. “Make a wish.”

You stare at the eyelash, your mind racing with all the things you could wish for, should wish for. But the words stick in your throat, and you find yourself frozen, unable to think of anything that could possibly fix what’s been broken.

“Did you wish?”

You shake your head slightly, the corners of your mouth turning up in a sad smile. “I... I didn't get the chance.”

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing as she studies you. “And there’s something you wish for?”

“Yes,” You hesitate, the words coming slowly, painfully, like pulling them from some deep, hidden place inside you. “I was wishing… that we were two other people. Two people who didn’t have to say goodbye.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged with the tension of emotions neither of you can afford to express. Sevika’s expression tightens, her jaw clenching as she absorbs your words.

“You know, if you say it out loud, it doesn’t come true,” she says, her voice rough, like she’s fighting against the vulnerability of the moment.

“Do you believe that?” 

She looks down at the eyelash, still resting on her finger, before blowing it away into the air. Her gaze follows it for a moment before she looks back at you. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unmovable, like a finality neither of you can escape. 

“We should sleep,” Sevika says finally. “It’s late.”

You nod, knowing she’s right. There’s nothing more to be said, nothing that can change the way things are. 

“Thank you,” you say softly.

Sevika looks at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nods, just once, and steps back, letting you go. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you echo, your heart heavy as you turn and walk away.

As you reach the end of the hallway, you glance back, just once. Sevika is still standing in the doorway, watching you, her figure framed by the dim light. There’s something in her posture, something in the way she’s holding herself that makes you think she might be wishing too—wishing for something that neither of you can have.

But then she steps back, closing the door behind her, and you’re left standing in the cold, empty hallway, the echoes of what could have been ringing in your ears.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the makeshift shooting range. You and Grayson stand side by side, both of you facing a row of targets at the far end of the field. You’ve been practicing your aim for a while now, but your focus has been off, your shots missing the mark more often than not.

“You haven’t said anything about my shit shot,” you mutter, glancing sideways at Grayson, expecting some form of criticism.

She shrugs, her eyes on the distant targets. "You're injured. Why would I?"

You snort. "Liar. Weeks ago, you'd have torn me apart. What's different now?"

Grayson doesn't answer, instead gesturing to a nearby bench overlooking the community below. You follow her, settling onto the worn wood with a sigh.The elevated view makes the world seem vast and small all at once.

Grayson passes you a canteen, and you take a long drink before speaking again. "You snitched to Sevika about me working."

Grayson raises an eyebrow. "Snitching? Are we ten?"

"She didn't need to know," you mutter, avoiding her gaze.

"You were going hurt yourself," Grayson says softly. "And you needed to see her. For closure, at least."

You fall silent, not wanting to delve into the complicated mess of emotions surrounding Sevika. Instead, you change the subject. "How's Ren?"

“Ren’s sleeping in today. She’s been up late these past few nights, working on that puzzle I gave her.”  Grayson’s face immediately brightens at the mention of Ren.

“She’s got that stubborn streak. Wonder where she gets it.” 

“Must be the company she keeps,” Grayson replies, her voice laced with affection. “Marcus is at the walls today, keeping an eye on things. It’s been quiet, for the most part.”

You nod, your gaze drifting back to the field. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” you muse. “Every day is the same. We do the same things, see the same faces… What makes it worth living?”

Grayson leans back on the bench, her eyes scanning the horizon as she considers her answer. “You make your own reasons,” she says finally, her tone thoughtful. “For me, it’s taking care of Ren. Making sure she has something to hold onto, something good in this world.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Grayson is choosing her words carefully. “I never thought of myself as the maternal type,” she continues, sounding almost wistful. “But with Ren… It’s different. She’s taught me more about love than I ever knew.  In whatever time I got left here, I want to continue it with her, to see her grow up and prove there’s still something more for us here.”

You feel a pang in your chest, suddenly remembering Sevika and her belief that there would never be enough time for the two of you. But where Grayson found strength in loving deeply despite that, Sevika chose to close herself off, to protect herself from the inevitable pain.

Grayson looks at you, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Sometimes, the hardest thing is to keep loving, even when you know it won’t last. But that’s what makes it worth it. Knowing that you made the most of the time you had, that you loved fully, even if it hurts in the end.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the truth of them resonating with a painful clarity. 

“It’s hard,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “When you know it’s not going to last.”

Grayson nods, her expression gentle. “It is. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. You have to find your own reason to keep going, to keep loving, even when it seems like everything is falling apart.”

The conversation settles into a quiet lull, the words lingering between you as the sun dips lower in the sky. You take another sip from the flask, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest.

“You’re always looking out for us, making sure we’re okay.” you say after a moment, your voice tinged with admiration. 

“I’m satisfied  – knowing that I’ve done what I can to make this place a little better, to take care of the people who matter.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, the words carrying more weight than you intended. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies gently. “We’re all in this together. And besides,” she adds with a small, teasing smile, “someone has to keep you in line.”

You chuckle, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere just a bit.

But the peaceful moment on the hill was brief, the tranquility shattered by the sound of rapid footsteps and panicked crying. You and Grayson turn to see Ren running towards you, her face streaked with tears and her small body shaking with sobs.

Grayson immediately drops to her knees, catching Ren in her arms. "What happened, sweetheart?" she asks, her voice calm but laced with urgency.

Ren tries to speak through her tears, her words coming out in broken gasps. "Daddy said... we were going on a trip... but the monsters... they blocked us and he couldn’t close the gate... now they're coming to get us!"

As if on cue, screams erupt from the direction of the community. You and Grayson exchange a quick glance, both reaching for your weapons without hesitation.

Ren clings to Grayson's yellow armband, her eyes wide with terror. "I want to go with you!" she cries.

Grayson cups Ren's face gently, her voice soft but firm. "Darling, listen to me. I will come back, I promise. But right now, you need to get to safety. Can you be brave for me?"

Ren nods, her lower lip trembling. You know without words what needs to be done - get everyone to safety.

You both sprint down the hill, Grayson carrying Ren. As you near the community, the chaos becomes more apparent. Gunshots ring out, mixing with screams of panic and pain. People are running in all directions, fear etched on their faces.

Vi appears beside you, her red hair wild and her eyes blazing. "We're seriously underarmed right now!" she shouts over the noise. "Sevika's crew is out!"

"We have to make do," you yell back, scanning the area. You spot Caitlyn and a few others on the walls, their snipers picking off threats in the distance.

You, Vi, and the handful of armed residents form a protective line, herding panicked civilians towards their homes. "Get inside! Lock your doors!" you shout, your voice hoarse from the effort.

Children cry for their parents, the elderly struggle to move quickly enough. You see a young mother stumble, her baby wailing in her arms. You rush to her side, helping her to her feet and guiding her to safety.

Everywhere you look, there's movement – people running, fighting, falling. 

The air is thick with the stench of death and the deafening cacophony of gunfire. You're shoulder to shoulder with VI, both of you firing relentlessly at the endless wave of walkers. Sweat stings your eyes as you shout, "Vi! On your left!"

She pivots, taking down three walkers in quick succession. But for every one you drop, two more seem to take its place. The situation is rapidly spiraling out of control, and a sinking feeling in your gut tells you you're fighting a losing battle.

But suddenly, powerful headlights cut through the darkness as a convoy of trucks roars onto the scene. Your heart leaps – you'd recognize that cavalry anywhere.

As if materializing from thin air, more trucks appear, effortlessly mowing down walkers and clearing streets. One screeches to a halt in front of you, and then there she is.

A familiar figure vaults from the truck bed – Sevika, her red shawl billowing behind her. She swiftly unslings a shotgun from her back and starts blasting walkers left and right. Her face is composed, every feature carefully controlled, but when her eyes find yours, a fleeting shadow passes over them—a trace of fear and concern.

"You okay?" she shouts over the din, closing the distance between you.

You nod, breathless. "A lot are injured. I don't know, there's too many – I think they're coming from the west gate. Ren said something about Marcus not being able to close it."

Sevika's jaw tightens. She yanks out a radio, barking orders to dispatch teams to the west gate. In seconds, she's handing out weapons, her voice ringing with authority. "Split up! I want a team grabbing as many injured as possible. Anyone bitten, take them out."

As you move to join the fray, Sevika's hand clamps on your arm. "No," she growls. "What the hell are you doing? Get to safety with the others. You're still injured."

"Fine," you concede. "But I'm finding Grayson first."

Sevika gives a curt nod before sprinting back into action. You catch a glimpse of Vi, her red hair unmistakable as she leaps into a truck bed. 

You weave through the chaos, dodging walkers and searching for Grayson. Gunfire echoes off buildings, punctuated by the revving of engines and the sounds of walkers being dispatched. 

A scream to your left – you spin, firing instinctively. A walker drops, inches from a couple. You quickly wave to them to follow and you sprint to the safe house together. Your leg protests, but adrenaline keeps you moving.

Your heart pounds as you finally spot Grayson, but she's going the opposite direction. 

"Grayson!" you shout. "Sevika and her team are here. We need to get everyone to safety!"

She doesn't slow down. "There's someone stuck in a car!"

That's when you see it - a vehicle surrounded by a writhing mass of walkers, their decaying hands clawing at the windows. Inside, you catch a glimpse of a terrified face.

Without hesitation, you sprint after Grayson. The two of you work in tandem, picking off walkers. When you reach the car, Grayson covers you as you wrench the door open. A young boy, no older than seven, practically leaps into her arms.

"We've got to move!" Grayson shouts.

You guys run, the child clinging to her as you lead the way.  You’re clearing the path, and you’re halfway to the safehouse when you hear the dreaded click of an empty chamber.

"I'm out!" you yell.

Grayson turns, her eyes flashing with a decision you can see forming before she even speaks. "Take the kid. Go!"

"Wait, we can make it together!"

She shakes her head, placing the boy into your arms. "Sevika's crew is here, remember? I'll be okay. Get everyone to safety!"

Before you can protest, she's shoving you toward safety, using her body as a shield for the child. You run, every step feeling like a betrayal, but knowing you have to trust her.

You make it to a house, handing off the child to waiting arms. Your lungs burn as you gasp for air, eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of Grayson.

Suddenly, Sevika's there, her face smeared with grime and blood but her eyes alight with fierce triumph. "We closed the gate. Got them all."

Relief floods you for a moment, but then reality crashes back. "Wait, where's Grayson?"

Confusion flickers across Sevika's face, but before she can respond, a heart-wrenching wail cuts through the air. You both rush outside, joining a growing crowd.

The scene that greets you turns your blood to ice. Caitlyn is on the ground, her body wracked with sobs. Vi kneels beside her, arms wrapped around her shaking form. "I couldn't save her," Caitlyn chokes out between gasps. "I couldn't shoot them fast enough."

Her sniper lies discarded in the dirt, and that's when you see her. Grayson.

The world seems to tilt on its axis. You stumble forward, unable to process what you're seeing. Grayson, who was just beside you moments ago. Grayson, who sacrificed herself to save a child. Grayson, whose quiet strength held your community together.

She now lies on the ground, her body wracked with violent coughs, blood staining her lips. Her breaths had grown shallow, each one more of a struggle than the last, and when she reached for Sevika’s hand, you knew what she was asking for. Sevika’s fingers trembled as she grasped Grayson’s hand, and when Grayson whispered, “Do it,” you saw a flash of something break inside Sevika.

She obeyed.

The gunshot echoed in your ears, louder than the chaos around you, but it was the sight of Sevika gently closing Grayson’s eyes that broke you. Sevika had always been unbreakable, she seemed immune to the horrors of this world. But as she knelt beside Grayson, you saw the cracks forming.  She closed Grayson’s eyes, her hand trembling just for a second before she stood up, towering over the body like a stone sentinel. 

You could barely breathe, the grief suffocating you, making it impossible to think about anything other than how many bodies that needs burying tomorrow. How many families would be broken by the news? How many children would cry for family and friends who would never come home? 

“Grayson?” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with innocence and confusion. The kid was supposed to be inside the safe house but instead, she stood there, eyes wide and uncomprehending, staring at the lifeless form on the ground. “Why is Grayson sleeping? Tell her to wake up… We won, didn’t we?”

You wanted to tell her something—anything—but the words choked in your throat. Ren dropped to her knees beside Grayson, her tiny hands shaking as they touched the cold, lifeless body.

Sevika finally moved, her expression unreadable, her walls up higher than ever. Without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out Grayson’s yellow band. She knelt down, her massive frame suddenly so small beside Ren, and gently placed the band in the child’s trembling hands.

Ren looked up at Sevika, eyes full of questions. But before anything could be said, Silco emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. He was flanked by his men, their faces grim and cold, and at the center of it all was Marcus.

He was barely recognizable—his face a mangled mess of bruises and blood. He was dragged forward, forced to his knees in the dirt where Grayson had fallen. The sight of him brought Sevika to her feet, her fists clenched tight. You could see the battle raging inside her, the desire to end him right then and there, but she held back.

"Look at him," he began, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something trivial. "A man who betrayed the very community that kept him protected him fed and protected. Who left nothing but the ashes of his own cowardice."

He walked slowly around Marcus, like a predator circling its prey. "This is the price of betrayal, the cost of thinking you can stand in the way of what must be done. You all know him," Silco continued, addressing the crowd that had gathered, their eyes fixed on the broken man at his feet. "You know his face, his uniform, his lies. But you must also know this: in a world where there are no second chances, there are no second thoughts."

Silco’s voice grew harder, colder, as he leaned down close to Marcus’s ear. "Your cowardice, your betrayal, a mistake that cost how many lives today? And now, you will pay the price for that."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final, and Marcus’s body shuddered, knowing what was coming. Silco straightened, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all who would think to cross us, to cross me. There is no forgiveness in this world, only retribution."

You don’t know what happened next, because you’re taking Ren into your arms and you’re moving – away from the crowd, away from the punishment that you know her father will face.

Ren clings to you, burying her face in your chest, and you hold her close, wishing you could shield her from all of this. "What’s happening to Daddy?" she asks, her voice muffled by your shirt. "And Grayson?"

You didn’t have an answer. The only thing you could do was hold her tighter, trying to block out the screams, the fire, the blood.

Time passes, the night dragging on in a blur of grief. Inside the house, the silence was deafening. You had scrubbed the blood from Ren’s skin, but it still lingered in the air, the scent of death refusing to leave. Grayson’s face kept flashing before your eyes, her last breath, her last words, the way her body crumpled in Sevika’s arms.

And now, as you stared out the window, you saw them—Silco’s men, forming a straight, omnious line as they marched out into the night. At the center of it all was a giant wooden cross, and tied to it was Marcus. His head hung low, his body limp, but he was still alive.

Your breath caught in your throat when Sevika looked up at the window. For a moment, your eyes locked, and you saw nothing in her gaze but a cold, empty challenge. The Sevika you knew wasn’t there, but replaced by someone who had buried whatever was left of her soul beneath layers of survival and duty. She turns away, breaking the gaze as she climbed into the backseat of a vehicle.  You watch as the trucks disappeared into the night until the only thing you could see was the small form of the cross.

The night presses in around you, heavy with loss, and you wonder if anything would ever feel whole again.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove @pinkyykisses @glass-apothecary

@mulan-but-gay @lesbnrock @hyuckiesoftie

[lenetaylor]

John Lennon's collage "for" Paul

I was very curious about the collage image going around tumblr (e.g., here, here, and here) that was identified as being made "for Paul" and titled "I Only Have Eyes for You", and done by John Lennon "at art school". Here it is; I scanned this from Julian Lennon's book Beatles Memorabilia: The Julian Lennon Collection (by Brian Southall and Julian Lennon, 2010)

You can see that Paul has written at the bottom "J.L. Collage - To Julian - love Paul x".

The book caption reads

A distinct and original collage of faces and bodies dedicated to Julian from Paul. It was created by John and given to Paul.

But the first time this previously unseen collage surfaced was in 2000. It was included in a show held by artist Peter Blake at the Tate Liverpool, called About Collage.

An article in The Independent at the time says

A John Lennon collage never seen in public is to feature in an exhibition that opens 30 years ago to the day the Beatles split... Lennon's collage, done at art school in the 1950s, comprises faces and figures cut from magazines, and features a number of eyes and lips pasted on images of girls. Blake said: "The style tied in with my Sgt Pepper's album cover, which was simply a more organised version, with bigger heads." Natalie Rudd, who helped curate the exhibition, said: "No one really knows much about Lennon's collage. … It has no title and is rather dark, with a lot of black and red and we can only guess at what he was trying to say."

In this 2009 Guardian article, Blake says,

By then I knew that Paul McCartney owned a collage that John Lennon had done, so I borrowed that. Paul also made a sound collage of Liverpool, and he made an artwork too.

Another quote from Eye Magazine in 2000:

He hopes to borrow an unseen art school collage by John Lennon, owned by Paul McCartney.

There was a book produced to accompany the show, called Peter Blake: About Collage (2000). The collage is reproduced in the book:

The credit reads "John Lennon 1940-1980, Untitled, late 1950s, Paper collage, 970 x 675mm, Private Collection". It does not have the handwritten note by Paul at the bottom.

Peter Blake's comments say:

I have followed Paul McCartney's career as an artist, so when About Collage emerged, I suggested that he made a collage, perhaps from sound, which he has pursued. John Lennon made a collage at art school during the late 1950s which is included in the show.

Paul did make a sound collage for the show, and released it as an album called Liverpool Sound Collage; some of it is on YouTube. (There used to be a website for it, long gone now, but you can see bits of it at the Internet Archive). Here's his artwork, titled The World, mentioned by Blake above (the central image is a back and white photo of Jerry Lewis):

So, to summarize:

The collage does NOT have an official title. I don't know where the "I Only Have Eyes for You" title came from

It's not clear that the collage was made for Paul specifically, only that it was given to Paul, date unknown

It's not clear if the collage Paul gave to Julian is the original or a copy

It seems unlikely that it was made at art school, as some of the images are of women in classically mid-1960s clothes and hairstyles. The only source for the date of composition seems to be Paul

It's not stated who gave the collage to Paul - it might have been John, but it could easily have been Julia or Yoko (or even Cyn?)

Paul's artwork was NOT made for John

PS. I looked through the book Paul McCartney: Paintings but the collage isn't mentioned.

PPS. I tried doing some image searches on the clearer photos of women in the collage, but got no results. Perhaps someone else will have better luck.

[riddles-n-games]

Hey guys, I've been seeing another rift going on in the fandom regarding TGG and TIG characters, so I've decided to make a statement that can hopefully make things more cohesive.

I understand that not everyone likes the new spin-off and honestly, I'm considering just stopping after GU. Personally, I don't have anything against the characters of TGG but my problem is that they sound too much like our old mains. However, that's not their fault. It's the author's. There's nothing wrong with JLB wanting to expand the TIG universe but it is problematic when you are repeating the same character arcs of the old characters that are also present and interacting with these new mains. The problem that we face is the fact while even in The Naturals there are similar characters, they are divided by different series. However, that is not going on here with TIG and TGG. TGG is a continuation of TIG and our TIG characters are still present. Heck, one of our old mains is a player and a love interest here to one of the new mains. And therein lies the issue. When you have a connected series, it's important to have distinguished characters with different voices, not carbon copies.

What I expected for TGG characters was that she would move from the character tropes we've seen already in the series and come up with new ones. I mean, come on, she's a psychology major, we bring that up so often but what's the point when she keeps going in circles and never brings up anything new? I pointed a lot of this out pre-read because I already correctly guessed where this was going within just a few pages of reveal. Don't get me wrong, if she wanted to, she could do it but it doesn't feel like she has new plans or plots. Be honest with yourselves and don't just praise because she's your favorite author. You can be a reader, a fan, and a respectful critic all at the same time. Don't lower your expectations just because they can't deliver every time.

The trouble is that when you go back to TFG, in the acknowledgments, she herself wrote she wasn't sure there was going to be a third book. And now look, suddenly two books were announced a month or two after she released the last book of the trilogy which introduced our mains and not the most fashionably. I do believe she had ideas but I don't think they were the best fleshed out. You have to realize that just reading TGG, how many of you recognized the obvious plots, the romantic subplots, the character arcs, and even the semi-hidden plots just getting to the halfway point? And how many of you said, hey, wait a minute, we've had this plotline before? You did, didn't you? I want to give Jennifer the benefit of the doubt but I truly think she is in over her head because I don't believe she quite thought that this is how long the series would go.

In fact, I think that she is making more trouble for herself in trying multi POV for this new series when really I think it should have just been Gray taking over. It would have allowed us to see how he's grown especially after the heartache and mental health issues he's had to go through to get here. It felt like the obvious next step, even the summary for TGG made it sound like that. However, the only thing that seems new to me is the hypersexual atmosphere which also makes no sense to me because teens may go through attraction but that doesn't mean they're horny all the time and anyone who's gone through puberty can attest to that. So I ask again, like one reviewer on Goodreads put, were the romantic moments in the room with us? 12 hours is not love or romance, it's lust, that's it. Couldn't summarize it clearer. If she wanted to make it better, it could have been that she made the book stretch over a series of weeks which is why I wonder what the heck will happen to any character development if this book series is done in like 3 days?

As I said, a lot of things feel very repetitive, the plot, word choice, thought processes, quotes and sayings, etc. We are in a loop. She's in a loop. I think that the best thing JLB could have done is leave TIG alone for a few years after TFG, make a new series or whatever works outside this series she wanted to, give herself time to truly see if she has new stories to tell for TIG by writing a spin-off and then come back to give us that content. Because it's really telling how forced things have been in the last two books, even here with GU and I really think this empire is toppling. As they say, quality over quantity and thoughtful than full of thoughts that are just a variation of one another. That's what makes me think more and more she should have left it at TFG.

Thank you for reading and I hope this gives a new perspective that can help you see some things more clearly.

[ramshacklerumble]

Name, hobby and quote for Gia, Bobbi and Cusi? :3

NAME: What does your TWST OC’s name mean? Why does Rook/Floyd call them [insert nickname?]

gia yugo

‘gia’ has its roots in italian from what i could see, with the meaning ‘god is gracious.’ it wasn’t on purpose, but the irony isn’t lost on me. i actually didn’t pick the name for its meaning, but rather because when making ‘sonas’ or at the very least ocs that started out as ‘sonas’, i will try to give them names that start with the letter ‘g.’ gia is also a name i’ve been wanting to use ever since i’ve worked with a fellow genderqueer coworker named gia, i just really liked the name and it stuck. ‘yugo’ on the other hand is straight up the spanish word for the wooden frame typically on the backs of oxen, used to carry heavy burdens. hardy har har. it also had the added bonus of starting with the ‘yu’ sound.

i opted to keep the in-game yuu floyd nickname ‘shrimpy’ and actually centered gia’s hairstyle around it so that it made more sense in-verse as to why they get the name, as instead of darting away from him when floyd approaches, they don’t do anything as floyd playfully tugs at their ‘hair antenna.’ as you prolly know by now, the full name wings up being ‘mantis shrimp’ (which is hilariously, not really a shrimp— but that’s also still quite fitting.) gia’s violent streak and devastating right hook get them the title.

when it came to rook’s nicknames for them, though, i did end up choosing something different. when first meeting gia in science club, rook dubs them ‘masque de pierre’ or ‘stone mask’ due to their seemingly unflappable poker face. from book 3 onwards, however, rook gives them the name ‘monsieur géode.’ ‘geode.’ inner beauty, having to break the stone to see what glimmers within. all that good jazz. plus, it fits gia’s rising interest in magestones.

bobbi st. robins | beau fowl

‘bobbi’ comes from ‘robert’ which i’ve seen carry the meaning ‘bright fame’. bobbi was also not a name i picked for the meaning. i didn’t pick the name at ALL, actually. bobbi did. he showed up and told me without any input that his name was bobbi st. robins. spelled exactly like that. ‘st.robins’ or rather ‘saint robins’…well, can’t get any clearer than that, right?

as for his RSA disguise, while i did have to look for it, ‘beau’ came in fairly easy. meaning ‘beautiful’ or ‘handsome’ i found it a fun little fit for one meant to be in pomefiore. it also happens to be phonetically similar to ‘bow’ as in ‘archery bow.’ then you just have ‘fowl’…well, can’t get any clearer than that, right?

floyd originally only knows bobbi as beau, but even after finding out they’re both one and the same many…many years later— he keeps the nickname of ‘pelican.’ something that initially irks bobbi as he takes great pride in his transformations, he’s a STORK. but it’s until later than floyd might have had another reason for calling him so. pelicans really will snatch up anything they can get their bills around.

likewise, rook keeps his nickname for bobbi and beau the same. ‘roi de flèches’. ‘king of arrows.’ there is actually a story behind this one that i’ve been slowly been chipping away at, but for now lets go with: they both simply can’t resist a challenge.

cusi cápac

‘cusi’ comes from the quechua word ‘kusi’, meaning ‘pleasure’ or ‘joy.’ besides sounding similar to ‘kuzco’, i thought that the name fit someone who’s obsessed with indulging in the best life has to offer. she did give me a wicked hard time with her surname, though, to the point where i considered simply not giving her one. that was until she started circling the name ‘cápac’ with bright red marker on the screen— as in ‘manco capac’ the historical figure accredited as first governor and founder of the incan civilization. as well as figure that served as inspiration for the character that would eventually turn into ‘emperor kuzco’ when ‘new groove’ was still being worked as ‘empire of the sun.’ as it stands, i’m actually still researching into giving her a second name as it was a practice among emperors to don a new name when they rose to the throne.

floyd’s nickname for cusi is ‘beadlet anemone.’ she doesn’t like it and won’t respond to it, but it is what it is. floyd couldn’t help but find her comparable to the stubborn little things. won’t move unless they want to, waving their hands in the air like they just do not care, but they’ve got a bit of a sting to them if you try touching them. kinda annoying.

then we have rook, who up until this point, i haven’t figured out a reason why they’d interact— but on the chance they come across each other, rook does dub her ‘empereur d'or’ or ‘golden emperor.’ pretty spot on, honestly.

HOBBY: What are your TWST OC’s hobbies? Who among the cast will they possibly ask to join in their pastime?

gia yugo

prior coming to nrc, before magic flora and magestone creation rotted their brain with glowing mushrooms, gia’s passion was music. in truth, it still is— they’re a not-so-secret metalhead. they play the electric guitar. they don’t have much time to practice it nowadays, but they would secretly practice speed riffs under their parents’ noses. it’s actually something that would’ve gone entirely under the radar in nrc, had gia not once played quick riff on cater’s guitar, unknowingly with lilia as audience. this does kickstart a friendship with lilia as he encourages them into an impromptu jam with him. gia’s love for metal’s many subgenres makes them receptive and highly interested in exploring what twisted wonderland has to offer in the scene. fae folk metal? beastman power metal? ACTUAL PIRATE metal? are you telling them dethwater - album for fishes could be an actual thing?? they’re all for it. point is, if you want see gia have a genuine good time, throw them into a mosh pit.

bobbi st. robins

(theft? eating?) archery is the easy choice here, because frankly it is something bobbi has had interest in ever since he first heard the stories of the thief archer of the woods. and despite being self-taught, bobbi took it well and quick— wanna see him shoot that coin with his feet? he finally gets to show off a little when he enters ‘the arcane exchange’ as he runs into two people willing to give him a challenge. one rook hunt— with whom bobbi has a prior encounter with— and @tixdixl’s huntress, eveline dubois. bobbi and eve have a little back and forth game of hunter and prey that allows him to stretch his fingers and shoulders a bit and to be honest, he does bring a bit of that skill to his spell cast style during spell drive practice.

but adjacent to that hobby, and really the reason why bobbi could even pick up a bow in the first place, is because bobbi enjoys woodcarving. besides making his own bow, bobbi will make little wooden trinkets for the fun of it— or even as gifts. while he’s not particularly ashamed of it, bobbi isn’t as loud about his woodcarving endeavors as he is his archery, so to get something he’s personally made is a good sign.

cusi cápac

DANCE. although calling it a simple ‘hobby’ is an insult to her art. it’s a spiritual experience. cusi is one with the Groove.

she indulges in many styles of dance, but she’s most drawn to waacking when moved to freestyle. she takes up any opportunity to tear up the dance floor and doesn’t care who is around to watch— but contrary to popular belief, cusi appreciates a good dance partner. the Groove can find its way through anyone— from the greatest of royalty to the lowliest of peasants. she often finds herself partnering up with kalim during scarabia’s banquets and it’s not uncommon for dance offs with floyd to happen during basketball club— enough for even jamil to not help joining in despite the friction cusi has with him. cater has even managed to talk cusi to making an occasional post on magicam with him showing off their moves— which was enough for cusi to make an account for herself where she shows off her own choreography, she’s been making a rather rapid rise in followers.

really. it’s a shame she couldn’t attend the SDC auditions due to…a llama situation... but there’s always next year!

QUOTE: Give me something your TWST OC will say. Either something they always say or something iconic they said. Something that helps solve the problems or something that is a catalyst to even more issues.

gia yugo - “Easy. Either this works or it’s not my problem anymore.”

bobbi st. robins - “Sorry, officer. See, my face just looks like this— I look like I’m smiling even when I’m not. Oh no, I’m definitely smiling now.”

cusi cápac - “Not to be dramatic, but if I have to run another lap, I’m finding Vargas’ tracksuit cabinet and hurling into it.”

(i’m so sorry i took so long to answer this wheeze)

taglist:

@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @tixdixl @winterweary @thehollowwriter @harryinramshackle

@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @kimikitti

@s-t-y-x @nightwingshero @water-writings @beneathsakurashade @oya-oya-okay @scint1llat3

@twstinginthewind (dm to be added)

[madou-dilou]

Thoughts on the moral imbalance between humans and Xadia

*The Dragon Prince* presents itself as a story about breaking cycles of violence, about two civilizations learning to coexist, about individuals rising above history’s mistakes. "Breaking the cycle", "Narrative of love instead of narrative of strength". The most symbolic quote of the show being Janai's "I define history. History doesnt make me." On paper, it seems like a fair exploration of war, prejudice, and reconciliation. But beneath this veneer of balance lies a troubling asymmetry: while the worldbuilding suggests an even conflict, the *moral weight* of the story is disproportionately placed on humans.

And I wondered I felt that way, because as a matter of fact, the show does not hesitate to depict Xadian cruelty on multiple occasions.

So I think it has less to do with the message than the execution.

That it's actually completely unintended.

We see it from the very first episode, where humans are driven from their lands in an act of ethnic cleansing. We see it in Runaan's unrepentant racism, in Avizandum’s and Sol Regem's indiscriminate slaughter, in Keesha’s fiery wrath she unleashes in the name of justice on every human she comes accross, in Karim’s supremacist ideology, in Finnegrin's torture of Rayla, in Kim Dael's literal thirst for blood. Xadia is not a utopia.

And yet, these acts of violence, these crimes against humanity, are never truly confronted.

They are treated as regrettable but understandable, the result of individuals rather than a systemic pattern of oppression. Well, Karim's arc, is an attempt at portraying that systemic oppression for he actually has plenty of followers within the population of sunfire elves, but it sadly doesn't suffice for it's treated as violence feeding itself, and the human protagonists themselves convienently never face racism.

Human violence, on the other hand, is never just an individual failing—it is a reflection of humanity itself.

When Viren, Claudia and Callum turn to dark magic, it is not just their personal descent but a cautionary tale about human ambition and desperation. When Soren attempts to take down a dragon that just burned a town to the ground, he is framed as part of the problem, a cog in the ever-turning wheel of revenge. When the protagonists we're suposed to root for chop the childhood friend's leg off, no one among them gives a damn because she's a dark mage. Even Ezran, a child who has never harmed anyone, spends much of his time trying to *prove* that humans deserve a place in the world, as if their right to exist in peace is something that must be earned. When thousands of humans get killed at the end of season 3, they happen to have convienently turned into monsters by their leader Viren, so it's portrayed as the necessary victory of good over evil, with no reflection at all upon the weight of their ugly deaths in a show that prides itself on being anti-war!

Hundreds thousands of humans are killed by a human in an anti-War show and it's presented as a victory of good over evil. What lesson are we supposed to learn from this?

There is no clearer example of this imbalance than Callum’s relationship with magic. Dark magic uses organic matter to function but is portrayed as morally unforgivable no matter the circumstances, even when it doesn't kill or provoke pain to get fueled, for it's vaguely supposed to evoke all the bad versants of "exploitation", concepts like scientism, pollution or rape. Yet as far as anyone knows, dark magic is the *only* way for humans to wield the forces of the world. It is dangerous, yes, but so is every form of power in Xadia—it is no more inherently evil than a dragon's ability to burn someone alive or an elf's ability to suck someone's blood dry. And yet, when Callum is forced to use dark magic to save his friends, the act is treated as so vile, so soul-destroying, that he spirals into suicidal despair. His use of dark magic is not just a mistake—it is a *moral failure*, a stain on his very being. He crushed two already dead corpses of slugs but his soul is somehow stained almost beyond repair.

But when Callum somehow gains an Arcanum, the kind of magic elves and dragons are simply *born with*, it is framed as an evolution, something to be celebrated. Never mind that the Ocean Arcanum was just shown to be capable of torturing a girl to death. Never mind that moon magic was used in episode one to force a child to kill an even younger child. Never mind that humans have spent centuries barely surviving, with dark magic as their only tool in a world designed to exclude them. Callum uses on Claudia the Ventus Frigoris spell that was previously used in front of him to torture Rayla, and I only noticed that because a fan pointed it out : it's not addressed.

I would add that all though the show starts and presents itself as a nuanced exploration of war, oppression, and cycles of violence, its underlying framework is actually an ecological parable. Instead of examining human conflicts with complexity, the show depicts a world where humans represent destructive civilization, while magical beings—especially dragons and elves—embody a lost natural harmony.

The story frames humans as inherently greedy and short-sighted, their struggle for survival reduced to exploitation. Dark magic serves as a metaphor for environmental destruction—presented not as a tool that can be used responsibly, but as an inherently corrupting force. Meanwhile, magical creatures are positioned as righteous victims, their own wars and greed either ignored or excused.

Meanwhile, human suffering—starvation, war, or displacement—is dismissed as self-inflicted.

The show frames humans as an unnatural force that disrupts the balance of the world. They are the only sapient beings who cannot wield primal magic, and their only means of survival is through dark magic—metaphorized as industrial exploitation. This framing strips them of moral complexity; their struggles are not seen as political, social, or even practical, but as a fundamental flaw in their very nature.

This bias is explicitly voiced through characters like Keesha, an elf who spits out her racist belief that all humans are parasites. The show never challenges her view—instead, it validates it visually and narratively. Viren, a human who embodies intelligence and ambition, is transformed as she speaks into a literal parasite monster through dark magic, reinforcing the idea that human striving is inherently corrupting.

The series does not invite viewers to see the human perspective. Viren’s desperation to save Katolis from famine is not explored as a tragic necessity but condemned as villainous. When Ezran is challenged, it's either by angry morons or people who are left off-screen. Visually and narratively, the show reinforces this bias. In season 7, when Ezran finally considers defending Katolis from dragon attacks, the cinematography echoes earlier scenes depicting Viren’s villainy. The message is clear: even self-defense is framed as morally suspect when it is humans who do it.

The narrative does not care about these contradictions. According to it, dark magic is human, and therefore a corruption. The Arcanum is Xadian, and therefore a gift.

I don't mind the contradictions itself, but the way the show doesn't adress it : for example, Runaan, who, as an efficient assassin whose credo consists on taking as little lives as possible lives while respecting life's inner value, also happens to have been tortured, should revile useless suffering. He could tell Callum to stop torturing Claudia, and Callum refuses to, arguing, to Runaan's horror, it's a necessity : therefore Viren's logic of "necessary sacrifices" isn't just a byproduct of dark magic but is applicable to any sort of power.

Viren saves Katolis with the exact spell he used to protect his soldiers from the fire, and which back then had allowed the protagonists to kill all of them without a second thought -yet as the spell is revealed to actually have no dehumanizing effect at all, the protagonists conveniently never are put in front of this and therefore never face the implication : it means they actually did kill real people back then at the battle of the Storm Spire, and their peace was built on ground saturated with blood they spilled. I'm repeating myself, but I wouldn't mind this if the show took time to address that. And since it doesn't, it's clearly unintended.

Another example of that is the way no one wonders what Callum's access to magic, or the Cosmic order's murder of Leola, means. Everyone thought human magic was impossible up until this point, and Ezran reveals in a dialog after the timeskip that it's now known that Callum actually isn't the first. This discovery completely changes how the power imbalance between Xadians and humans was thought of : turns out it isn't natural, but orchestrated by the Cosmic Order. But the show doesn't seem to realize this at all.

It is not that TDP paints Xadians as perfect -it really doesn't, but that it never truly demands introspection from them. An angry mob chases Rayla down because she is an Elf, but the moonshadow children (whom we have all reason to think are being raised by the same "Nothing in humans is worth mercy" principles as Runaan was), are somehow absolutely adorable to Callum because systematic prejudice apparently doesn't exist in Xadia. When Ezran preaches peace, it is always humanity that must rise to the occasion. When Viren falls, his downfall is treated as the natural consequence of human arrogance. When Zubeia, the widow of a king who murdered countless humans, steps in to help the heroes, she is never asked to even acknowledge her people’s past crimes. She is simply accepted.

The show *does* depict Xadian atrocities (the ethnic cleansing of humans, the unprovoked burning of towns, Avizandum's indiscriminate slaughters), but these events are not treated as a moral burden for Xadia to bear. In contrast, human violence is always tied to questions of morality, accountability, and cycles of vengeance. When Viren commits atrocities, they are framed as moral failings that demand consequences. When Avizandum, a random red dragon or even Ezran kills humans (he kind of tried to burn thousands of people alive), it is either ignored, excused, or at best framed as an unfortunate necessity. Sol Regem is the only dragon portrayed as a monster. Zubeia, despite her attempts at killing Harrow and Ezran that kickstarted the shows, is never once portrayed as having any *moral obligation* to recognize this crime or even human suffering. Ezran straight-up defends Aviandum's massacres, saying it was all to protect Xadia, and no one bats an eye, not even Callum, who lost Sarai at his hands as she was preventing a famine he caused. Plus, Callum sadly actually knew her, on contrary to Ezran.

The season 2 scene where a dragon burns a human town is one of the most glaring examples of this bias. The dragon’s actions are never explained, never questioned, and never even *remembered* by anyone. Soren, who wants to kill the dragon *after* it has already committed mass murder for no reason, is framed as the real problem.

Viren, for all his hubris, eventually spends three seasons agonizing over his remorse, failures, self-hatred and desperation. Soren acknowledges his wrongs and grows from them. Even Claudia shows guilt over what she does. But no Xadians express remorse over the sufferings of humans, including literal ethnic cleansing. Karim is too much of an idiot, constantly humiliated and getting a ridiculously funny death, to be a believable threat; and Janai never seems to struggle against her own old prejudice, it's just gone.

Xadians are allowed to move on from their history without reckoning with it. Humans are not. And so, despite its gestures toward nuance, *The Dragon Prince* remains a story where only one side is asked to do reflective criticism.

Mind you, I wouldn't mind any of that if it were intentional. I would even praise it. It would then show incredible protagonists whose naivete fails to acknowledge that peace isn't peace if only the side that is still a victim of a huge imbalance of power reflects and atones.

The show, in Arc II, almost succeeds in this when portraying Ezran's failed diplomatic feast. But since anyone who opposes Ezran either is portrayed as a brat (Viren, Kaseef, Karim) or not given a voice or even an appearance at all (who tore this portrait and why?), it fails - but how are we supposed to understand Soren's side when he says anyone who disagrees with Ezran's policy deserves to be eaten by Zubeia?

And the show almost succeeded in portraying complexity when Ezran himself, hit in his heart twice in a row when Sol destroyed his home and Runaan was set free without first taking accountability, eventually takes measures to ensure Xadia never attacks again (the show even frames him in similar angles and words than Viren). But it comes way too late.

And the show almost succeeds at portraying complexity when the archdragons are given an entire memorial in the cemetery of their victims but Viren's very name is entirely erased while he just sacrificed himself saving Katolis - and also prevented literal famines. It is a golden opportunity to reflect upon selective memory. But since that erasure, all though carefully thought out as a punishment for Viren by the narrative, is never addressed or brought upon by any of the characters (I don't know, something like, "He did great things. Terrible things, but great things as well." "However controversial he was, he did save us more than once" "Are you mad? Others might be tempted to follow his example." "I agree. This is something we have the duty to prevent. We can't let the future generations abide by his justifications and crimes." "Crown guard Soren, what are your thoughts on this matter?" "Do as you see fit. This ... man... wasn't my father. Whatever his legacy is, I will have no part in it."), it instead feels like it's so obvious it shouldn't even be discussed. Granted, the show does the same with Karim, who justifies his supremacist views appealing to History, only to be crushed by it as a really fun gag. But since Viren actually had a point, on contrary to Karim, his erasure feels unfair.

However, I just did a huge generalization... for have to adress the case of Runaan!

Runaan, as an assassin who carried out Xadian orders, is the *only* Xadian character who is truly forced to reckon with his actions. He killed Harrow not as a lone rogue actor as I thought until season 7 since Zubeia's role is completely ignored, but as an agent of Xadian authority—Zubeia’s authority. And yet, when the time comes for accountability, he is alone in his guilt.

Runaan's guilt is genuine, a weight he carries throughout. He doesn’t ask to be excused. He acknowledges that the culture he was raised in was toxic. He doesn’t demand that Ezran absolve him. He simply acknowledges what he has done and begs for forgiveness, fully aware that he may never receive it. This is, ironically, the *most balanced* approach to morality the show has ever taken.

But it comes too late. Seven seasons too late. And worse, it is *undone* by the revelation that Harrow was alive all along. What could have been a powerful moment—a Xadian finally confronting the weight of their actions, without excuse or justification—is cheapened by the show’s refusal to let the consequences be real. If Harrow is still alive, then Runaan didn’t truly take anything irreparable from anyone.

And so the show wastes its one opportunity to truly explore Xadian accountability. Runaan is an outlier, a singular case that never expands into a larger conversation. Meanwhile, Zubeia, who is the one who gave Runaan the order to kill Harrow, is never asked to answer for it. She remains the benevolent dragon queen, taxi-driving the protagonists while avoiding any real introspection -aside from a short story. Ezran is the one who has to do all the diplomacy work.

If *The Dragon Prince* had committed to this moment earlier then perhaps the show could have made good on its premise of breaking cycles. But instead, it falls into its old habit: absolving Xadians without demanding growth, while humans continue to bear the weight of history alone. Humans who commit atrocities are framed as reflections of humanity’s *inherent* tendency toward war and destruction. For example, the very late reveal in Book 7 that it was the humans that devastated their own lands because of their greed feels like an attempt at ignoring the ethnic cleansing and oppression Xadia submitted them to in the first place.

In season 6, we are told the story of how Leola got murdered by the Cosmic Order a few centuries ago because she taught Primal Magic to humans. This knowledge was erased, leaving Aaravos as its sole bearer : yet despite Callum's status as the first human wielding Primal Magic for centuries, this discovery never is shown to recontextualize the past and recent history between Xadians and Humans, and Callum's safety is never compromised by the Cosmic Order. And the heroes are never shown as to unknowingly enforce an unfair status-quo. As they are fighting Aaravos, they are simply portrayed as defeating Evil. The Cosmic Order never appears or reacts to any of Aaravos or Callum's actions, leaving us to wonder if Aaravos just made them up so Claudia and the viewer would side with him.

And then, there’s Viren. The character who has borne the *entire* moral weight of the show’s conflict from the very beginning. The one who suffers, agonizes, and ultimately dies twice—first as a so-called “Disney villain,” then as a broken man who finally understands the cost of his choices. But even in his lowest moments, even in his most genuine sacrifices, the show never gives him a pass.

In Arc I, he was a clear victim of the Magneto syndrome, the narrative trick where a character fighting against oppression is deliberately villainized to prevent the audience from engaging with their ideas. Viren, despite being the only character who directly challenges Xadia’s superiority, is not ultimately not allowed to remain the nuanced character he was first portrayed as. Instead, he is turned into a *Disney villain*, complete with glowing eyes, sadism, Nazi references and sinister smiles, so that his ideology can be dismissed without true debate. His valid criticisms of Xadian arrogance, his recognition of the inherent power imbalance between humans and elves, his warnings that peace is impossible when one side is forced to *earn* its existence—all of it is buried under the weight of his aesthetic villainy.

This is why his death at the end of the first arc is the moment the show brushes aside all of Xadia’s wrongs, all its atrocities, in the name of peace. With Viren gone, with the “evil human” defeated and all of his convienently monsterified humans killed, the story no longer has to acknowledge the legitimacy of his fears. There is no reckoning for the ethnic cleansing of humanity. No reflection on how Xadians have treated humans as disposable. No examination of the *reasons* that led Viren to act in the first place. His death is not just the end of his character—it is the *erasure* of his argument. When the exact thing Viren was fearing eventually happens to the capital in season 6, all though Ezran in season 7 does finally acknowledge that maybe it's not a good idea to have no protection when your immediate neighbors are dragons, he is framed in evil angles as he is taking dispositions.

Viren is not allowed to move on from his mistakes the way Xadians are. He is never given the luxury of having his violence framed as an unfortunate necessity, despite constantly refering to this concept. His use of dark magic, even when it is to *save lives*, is treated as an unforgivable sin - he only needed Lissa's tears to save their dying boy and the show had the audacity to frame that as rape, while Callum’s acquisition of an Arcanum—something that should be equally terrifying, given how we’ve seen it used for torture—is treated as a glorious evolution.

Unlike Zubeia, unlike Janai, unlike any Xadian character who has benefited from systemic oppression with the exception of Runaan, Viren is expected to bear his sins until the very end. As he asks for anyone to listen to him after he learned the errors of his ways, he is told he doesn't deserve any mercy. He started his last season finally free yet ends it trapped in a cell, framed as a butterfly caught in a spider's web, spiraling in further despair. He decides to burn his note to Soren, where he explains his guilt, and thus carries it with him to the grave. And after he sacrificed himself to save a city, he is eventually completely forgotten by history, not even getting mentioned by any of the characters while the Archdragons have an entire memorial built in a cemetery full of their victims. I understand putting past grievances behind, but what would Xadians think of a memorial to Viren built right in the middle of Lux Aurea?

Killing the princes, the false-flag operation, destroying Lux, all that was bad. I'm not saying he was right on everything. But the show won't really acknowledge that he was actually right on *anything*. The truth—the one the show refuses to fully acknowledge—is that Viren was right about far more than the story allows. He was right about dark magic being humanity’s only means of survival, right about the hypocrisy of Xadian arrogance, right about the *inevitability* of conflict when one side is forced to constantly prove its worth. And yet, even as the world validates his warnings, even as the destruction he predicted comes to pass in season VI, he remains the villain. Ezran is framed similarly as he was, using the same shot composition, poses and vocabulary but no one ever says "Damn, he actually had a point." Because TDP was never interested in truly engaging with his perspective—it only ever wanted him to serve as a cautionary tale to this lesson :

It's not the oppressors who must reckon with their people's crimes but the oppressed who must prove themselves deserving of peace.

The show doesn’t even seem aware of what it is doing. It is not an assumed narrative choice that would say "Two obstacles to peace there are : prejudice on both sides, and when only one side agrees to make concessions." No, this bias is accidental and that’s what makes it so frustrating.

It's so terribly sad because I think it's completely unintended.

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

FINAL EMERGENCY THEORY

Obviously we have an asteroid coming, but in true Lone Star fashion, they are going big with this final emergency so an asteroid alone isn't enough!

For a while now, I've felt pretty sure that the asteroid impact itself wasn't going to be the true danger but would instead be the thing to trigger the true danger. Since the asteroid should be making impact at the end of episode 11 (according to the leaked episode 11 call sheet from back in June), it's clear that they will be dealing with a post-asteroid emergency/emergencies in episode 12.

I had some speculation about what exactly the final emergency would be, and that's come into clearer focus the last couple weeks.

In this TV Insider article from about 10 days ago, Rashad confirmed my suspicion that the place the asteroid is going to hit will be important.

Then in a few Natacha interviews from after episode 10 (like this one), Natacha kept mentioning the word NUCLEAR.

So from this we knew that the writers looked at places actually in Austin to find the worst possible place for the asteroid to hit, and we knew that NUCLEAR probably has something to do with it. This got me googling, and I came up with this:

There's a nuclear reactor at UT Austin!

The Owen sneak peek released this morning confirms that there is indeed a nuclear meltdown imminent. My guess is that it has to be happening at this UT nuclear reactor since there isn't another nuclear reactor in the city of Austin.

Some of the end of filming BTS also supports this conclusion. They did outdoor filming at a real university:

That's clearly going to be this scene from the episode 12 stills:

Around the same time, they were also filming in school hallways:

Here's a video of them filming

And Natacha also posted a picture taken in the same location

So based on all of this, my theory is that the asteroid makes impact and causes some kind of damage to the nuclear reactor at UT. The 126 arrive at the university and eventually make their way to where the reactor is located. When they get there, they either get trapped or they're in a position where they can't stop the meltdown and can't get away in time so attempting an escape seems futile.

Based on what we've seen in promos, I think only the firefighters get really close. (The moments at the end of this promo when they're in the dark and apparently fearing the worst only show firefighters, not paramedics.) We also know that Carlos is going to be wearing a headset at dispatch:

I think this sets us up nicely for a moment with everyone working together. The firefighters on the ground trying to stop a nuclear meltdown, Wyatt and Carlos helping from dispatch, maybe the paramedics fighting to get to the firefighters to help them since it seems like there are going to be injuries...

This all sounds a lot like what Rashad has told us, that the "final sequence" has everyone working towards a singular goal:

However, there's no way this is the very end of the episode. I think there has to be some kind of wrap up afterwards, but I also think it's possible that Rashad meant "final sequence" in a different sense. Maybe their final action sequence or the final sequence they filmed. You never can tell with the wording used in these interviews since often quotes are chopped up and presented out of context.

Well, anyway, that's it. My final theory 🥺

(Credit to @she-walked-away for first floating this potential theory of them all working together in this particular way, and I think it makes more sense the more we find out!)

[rachelsfav-queer]

Maybe A Boy? Pt. 2

(Part 1)

Yoko and Divina chat idly while they wait. They were told, very cryptically, to meet Wednesday here at the Weathervane to talk about something. They, of course, asked Enid to make sure that the seer wasn’t planning on killing them or anything, which the blonde assured them that the young Addams just had something to tell them and was simply anxious about it, while also drilling into them that Wednesday was being very brave doing this and that they, quote, “better be nice to my babycakes or I’m personally hunting you both down” which was… strange, but par for the course these days, honestly.

Eventually, the little devil arrived and quickly spotted them, and went to order a cup of coffee before joining them at the booth they chose, sitting down opposite the girls. And then Wednesday just sorta… stared at them, for a bit.

When they realized that Wednesday wasn’t going to speak first, despite calling them here, Divina opted to begin the conversation in hopes to start this off smoothly and friendly.

Divina: Hey, Wednesday! How are you doing?

Finally, after staring for a few moments more, Wednesday responds.

Wednesday: I am… well, Divina. I assume you’re both well, too?

The couple nodded together, so much for not making this awkward. Eventually, Wednesday sighs and looks down at the table, seemingly thinking deeply about something before speaking again.

Wednesday: I also assume that Enid, after you sought her to ensure this wasn’t a trap, told you that I had something to tell you both… and that I am particularly anxious about doing so. I first want to assure you both that my anxiety is in no way due to either of you or the merits of your characters, simply that the matter I wish to speak of is a… sensitive one and I am still in the process of figuring everything out myself.

Wednesday: Though Enid took it well, I also know that the nature of my relationship with her highly differs from the nature of my relationship with either of you or any of my other friends. But, you have both proven to be strong allies and are undoubtedly important figures in my life and I deem your opinions of me to be of importance to me.

Wednesday’s speech comes to a close and Yoko and Divina are left a little confused and a little concerned as well, as the slight anxiety in Wednesday’s voice grew clearer as the seer spoke. Something deep inside Yoko builds up, telling her how to respond. She’s not sure where it came from, but it feels… protective over the tiny goth. When she looks over at Divina, she can tell that the siren is experiencing the same feeling inside. Yoko looks back at Wednesday and speaks…

Yoko: Hey, little goth. Whatever it is you want to tell us, we’re a safe space, okay? We’re not gonna judge you or anything like that. I mean, unless you’re gonna pull us into a murder plot, cause then we might have a prob-

Yoko’s attempt at a joke is cut off by a sharp elbow to her ribs from her girlfriend and she’s a little grateful for it, as she realizes that it was very much not appropriate at this time.

Divina: What Yoko’s trying to say is that you don’t have to be afraid, Wednesday. We’re here and we’re listening. You can talk to us about anything, we promise. *lightly glares at Yoko*

The girls’ antics seemingly relieve some of the tension at the table and inside Wednesday, as the psychic’s anxious look turns into a tiny smirk for a brief second, but it’s more than enough and what comes next doesn’t seem so scary for Wednesday.

Wednesday: Thank you. Alright, I shall rip off the metaphorical bandage, I suppose. As I said, I’m still in the process of figuring it all out, but recently I have come to the conclusion that I no longer identify as a girl. I identify as a boy, or something along the lines of masculinity. I am… transgender.

Yoko and Divina don’t waste a second, they immediately accept Wednesday and begin lauding support.

Yoko: Oh thank the gods! I know I was joking before but I really was worried that you were gonna drag us into a murder plot! *turns to Divina* Hey! Don’t hit me again! I mean, you have to admit, it’s not exactly off-brand for he- Oh, shit! I mean, what pronouns do you go by now?

Wednesday: I would prefer he/him, but solely in private for the moment. I would like to come out to all the important people in my life first before I make my transition public. As for my name, I will be sticking with my original name. It is appropriately gender-neutral for my preferences.

Yoko: *nods* Of course. So, anyway, you have to admit it’s not off-brand for him to do something like that!

Divina simply rolls her eyes and ignores her girlfriend and focuses on Wednesday instead, looking him in the eyes.

Divina: Thank you for telling us this, Wednesday, and for trusting us with it. We’re both so proud of you.

Yoko: Yeah, like ‘Vina said, we’re damn proud of you, little goth. Coming out is never easy, even with people you trust and love, sometimes it’s harder cause their opinion matters more. But we still love you just the same, Wednesday. And hey, listen close.

Yoko leans in and lowers her sunglasses just enough to let Wednesday see her eyes and the seriousness in them.

Yoko: *lowly* If anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to give you shit? You come straight to me, understand? I know you can more than handle yourself, but I’m not letting anyone get away with hurting my little bro, got it?

Wednesday’s eyes widen at the vampire’s vow of protection and he feels tears brim his eyes, but he fights them back and nods solemnly.

Wednesday: Thank you, Yoko. Thank you both, for your kindness and your support. Like I said, your opinions mean much to me and I am grateful to have your acceptance. Thank you.

The girls both smile warmly at Wednesday and then look at each other, before looking back at Wednesday. Their smiles turn conspiratorial and it sets Wednesday’s guard up.

Wednesday: *straightens* What is it?

Divina: *slyly* Welllll… this is an important moment in our friendship together, so you know what that calls for, Yoko? *peeks over to Yoko*

Yoko’s smirk turns almost evil, though still genuine…

Yoko: It calls for… A Bestie Group Hug!

Wednesday’s eyes widen further, nearly popping out of her head as the girls rise slowly from the booth and stalk towards him, their arms opening in perfect sync.

Wednesday: *backing up in the booth* Wait, no. Do not! Tanaka, Watson, I am warning you both! Do NOT! No, no! Do not! I will stab you both and happily accept the consequences from Enid! I swear, I will stab you! I have multiple knives on my person! A wooden stake for you, TANAKA!! NO DON-

Wednesday’s protests are cut off as the vampire and siren pounce on him, wrapping him up tightly in a “Bestie Group Hug” and various hissing and growling sounds erupt from the pile. Luckily for Yoko and Divina, they are, in fact, not stabbed as the raven not-so-begrudgingly extends his arms around the two girls, grumbling about revenge and how it will be “slow and very painful”, though they ignore the threats as they continue to hug the boy, who eventually folds and leans into the embrace fully.

End <3

(A/N: Hello! I hope y’all enjoyed this part 2! Idk if it’s obvious yet, but I do plan on making this a little series of Wednesday coming out to the important people in his life. I wonder if y’all can guess who’s next? Anyway, this is slowly becoming a very important story to me and I want to tell it in a way that does it justice, like it deserves. I hope that I’ve done so thus far. Thank you for reading <3)

[nerdishpursuits]

I find it heartwarming they keep reinforcing how well-established Marta and Fina are as a couple.

They are light-years ahead from any other pairing on the show, every interaction proof of their unassailable love and searing chemistry.

The way they communicate, understand and support each other, the undeniable spark in their eyes whenever they’re together, how they constantly ache to touch and feel each other. The way they talk things through and make joint decisions. Every single detail is a thing of beauty and contributes to their relationship feeling so natural and heartwarming: every impassioned word, every longing glance, every tender touch. It feels so intimate one almost senses they are intruding.

It’s clearer than ever that Marta wouldn’t happily enter a marriage of convenience. Her confession to Fina that she has no desire to repeat the situation with Jaime? Feeling trapped again, having to constantly pretend? Emphasising she would never willfully enter such a union, as it would make her utterly and profoundly miserable? Heartbreaking and revelatory. Much like Fina’s own, pained admission that a world in which Pelayo’s outlandish proposal makes sense is a sad world to live in.

Prophetic conversation aside, how delightful were their scenes together? The profound satisfaction of being able to sleep in each other’s arms, the delight of having the freedom to bask in each other’s warmth and affection, the flirtatious banter that ignites their smoldering desire.

And most of all? Knowing Marta doesn’t want to be tied down to anyone unless it’s Fina herself. Be still my heart. Oh, how they're going to suffer.

They try to fence the world out but it keeps creeping in. It’s depressing that the word of an abuser like Santiago carries more weight than that of a respectable woman like Marta. Why the priest would ever give credence to any of those rumors is stupefying. As is the fact that prison gossip is suddenly making the rounds of the town and the colony. Then again, misogyny is the order of the day and the church very much champions obedient women, not trail-blazers like Marta. As a consequence, it will meddle where it’s not welcome, doing its best to clip her wings.

All that aside, I’m naively curious if they’ll end up dedicating screen time to the mini vacation Marta and Fina want to take together. Considering things are about to take a turn for the worst? Some happiness, before misery makes itself at home, would be most welcome (as always, not holding my breath on this one as much as I’d love to see them gaze at the ocean together)

Extra points if they reenact the scenario they were toying with: we’d have to purchase separate train tickets and run into each other by happenstance … it’d be like a spy movie, only this one would have a happy ending - and you’d be my Greta Garbo

Swoonworthy much, Mafin?

Lastly. I like the fact they’re reaffirming Marta’s awareness and acceptance of her sexuality, time and again. By emphasising her outright rejection of another marriage to a man, even a gay one, it’s clearer than ever that Marta de la Reina knows who she is and whom she loves. There’s no doubt about it. It’s why the very thought of being tied to a man, yet again, is so viscerally uncomfortable and entirely unfathomable. To quote one Taylor Slow: Marta’s seen this movie before and she didn’t like the ending.

Therefore, it must be downright agonizing to realize she’s being slowly pushed into another cage. And how devastating for Fina as well: she’s so desperate to protect Marta that she’s willing to entertain the idea of the woman she loves marrying someone else. Even if it’s solely out of convenience, it must be excruciating to even contemplate. Never mind urging Marta to go through with it? New level of torment unlocked.

Now on to see how this entire Pelayo business unfolds and what fresh hell and pretty rainbows they have in store for us.

We’ll have to let the chips fall where they may. Buckle up, muffincup. Curves aplenty lie ahead.

P.s. Carpena took his sweet time but, at long last, made it onto the shit list, joining Carmen who’s been enjoying quite the extended stay (she will, most likely, refuse the one month business trip - I have the niggling suspicion Fina will end up going instead)

P.s. 1 Claudia is a frickin’ ray of of sunshine: too good for this world, too pure

P.s. 2 I’d like to see more of the Marta and Luz friendship. It feels like they haven’t seen each other since Jaime’s passing. But I guess Luz’s assignment is mainly as Begoña’s friend and confidant. So they’re saving Pelayo for Marta: Miss MarPel, the spinsters mini series.

[ghostingkai]

[On Iori and Shirayuki]

Finding out just how physically weak and slow Iori is — especially compared to the rest of his family — is interesting for me.

Shirayuki’s full profile paints a more complete picture of who she is. She was the president of C3’s Tokyo branch, enjoys watching professional wrestling as a hobby, dreams of getting another chance to battle Gear (lol), practices radio workouts daily, and values being seen as “strong.” Her weakest subject in school was home economics. She has a clear affinity for fighting (further proven by Miyako’s quote in the final chapter, referring to Shirayuki as the Tokyo branch’s number one battle-crazed Mom.)

When we first learned that Shirayuki was responsible for trying to keep Iori away from the combat team, it wasn’t exactly a strange concept. She’s his mother, and regardless of his talents with barrier magic, it makes sense that she would be concerned about him getting hurt. She’s also well acquainted with that world, and likely understands first-hand how easy it is to be killed in that job.

But after seeing the Tsukimitsu family’s profiles in the guidebook, I can’t help but wonder if Shirayuki’s concern for Iori wasn’t so much about “a mother’s love for her son,” but rather, being specifically concerned that Iori wasn’t built for fighting.

(Which is not to say she doesn’t love Iori. She does! She even has a high-scoring “family love” parameter on her chart!)

For a clearer picture, here are some stat scores listed on their profiles:

(Physical strength/speed/mental)

Iori: 3/4/7

Miyako: 8/8/8

Yumi: 5/7/6

Shirayuki: 5/3/9

(Iori’s lack of physical strength is double confirmed on one of the alignment graphs included in the Q&A section, where he’s a lot closer to the “physically weak” side of the chart.

Also, to help put things into perspective a bit more — Mikado is noted to be physically ungifted, and his physical strength score is a 2. Iori is almost as physically untalented as Mikado lol.)

Iori is slightly faster than his mother, and has slightly better mental prowess than his younger brother — but that’s pretty much it. His listed top skills involve him being good at cooperative efforts/listening to others’ opinions and taking them into consideration. And, of course, his barrier magic.

When it comes to the other two -- Yumikage is on the combat team, but Shirayuki doesn’t give him a hard time about it (at least, not that we’ve been shown.) Same goes for Miyako. She was in the kendo club in school, has a very high score for physical strength, and has shown her skills in the actual story, like in the battle against Tsubaki by the hospital. In general, it feels like Shirayuki isn’t nearly as strict with them about avoiding combat. (Still strict, for sure — just not as much as with Iori.)

Shirayuki clearly still worries about her younger kids, but if their trait scores are anything to go by, it would stand within reason to consider — maybe she trusts Miyako and Yumikage can defend themselves in battle, but she has doubts about whether Iori can do the same.

The guidebook had a Q&A that explained how even though Iori is powerful, his magic is geared more towards defense, and he needs to be paired with a strong partner in order to be a real threat. When it comes to Iori’s choice in friends/partners, I imagine Shirayuki wasn’t too keen on the idea of his safety being in Touma’s hands, and expecting Tooru to protect Iori by himself would be unreasonable.

The fact that Iori joined the combat team at 17, and then was forced into the president’s role less than a year later, really speaks volumes about how desperate Shirayuki was to keep Iori away from fighting.

I also can’t help feeling Iori’s obsession with joining the combat team was less about the fighting, and more about knowing both Touma and Tooru were going to be on the combat team. He didn’t want to get left behind by his friends…

(FWIW: This analysis is based on the assumption Iori’s skill chart pertains to his pre-injury stats. If the stats listed on his profile are only relevant after he ended up gravely injured… well, then none of this is relevant! Lol)

[elainsgirl]

I actually love azriel and I dont want to dislike him.

Can you please explain what he meant about wanting the third? some say he's entitled and wants elain because his brothers got the other sisters. What I dont think is that he lusts for Elain... Cas was the same way with Nesta.

All I want to know is where he's coming from before I even start to assume things without trying to understand his point.

If Az was entitled to Elain, he wouldn’t be actively staying away from her. If he genuinely believes Elain should be his, then he would stake his claim on her whenever. Not stay away in pain and angst, its contradictory. No entitled man stays away from the woman he supposedly feels entirled Over - how does that logically mke sense? It doesn’t.

if Az wanted Elain *only* because of his brothers being with two of her sisters, then we would have gotten Az spending time and pursuing Elain AFTER solstice, AFTER Nessian became an official mated couple. If Mass wanted to showcase that Az is only interested in Elain because of his brothers the bonus would have taken place later. Not on solstice. And if this was the case, we wouldn’t have been given scenes where Az is blushing over Elain, risking his life to save her, being the first to wish her happy solstice and sharing a charged glance w her. His attraction/attention towards Elain would have only started AFTER solstice. AFTER Nessian officiated the bond. But obviously elriels attraction for each other is written before hand.

Finally - its to showcase a pattern and how its broken. For example, and im not comparing the sisters to bows of porridges I just dont know how else to articulate this -

Imagine you have 3 bowls of porridges. And I tell you, that 2 of these bows are hot and one is cold…you’ll immediately ask

“why is the 3rd bowl of porridge cold? What happened to the 3rd bowl to make it cold whereas the other two are hot? Was it taken out longer? Was it placed in a different area?” Etc. you get the point. You’re immediately drawn to the thing thats not like the others, numerising it just makes it clearer to readers, translating this to ACOTAR.

you have 3 sisters and 3 brothers. 2 sisters ended up being fated mates to 2 brothers, even considering probability - the likeliness that the 3rd sister and 3rd brother are mates is very high YET thats not the case…the 3rd was given to another

why. THAT is what Mass wants you to focus on. Why is there a broken pattern. Why are elucien mates when elriel was the natural and likely option. What happened to have caused this.

If Az had said “how come you and Cass are mated to Feyre and Nesta yet the 3rd was given to another?” -> as he only refers Elain as a number it shows he sees superifically and doesn’t actually care about her as a person

but obviously the actual quote is, “how are TWO of my brothers mated to TWO sisters whilst the THIRD was given to another?” -> there is a broken pattern, a break in the theme of 3. That’s unnatural and you need to think why this happened. Why is there a broken pattern.

Thats all there is to it. Mass just wants you to question why elriel weren’t made mates- its a call back to acowar where Feyre, the MAIN character as well as Sjms mind for the series questions this exact same thing.

“Why not make them (elriel) mates?”

[princessmoonyy]

"the cat misses you"

I was inspired by one of those quote writing prompts for this.

Word Count: 695, Angst, James Potter x Lilly Evans

There she was. 

Jame’s heart stopped for a moment; only to fall back into the same rhythm of her laugh once more. Looking at her was like being bathed in sunlight. Looking at her was like a knife right through his soul. Warmth pooled into his stomach as he ordered himself to breathe again. Air. Why was it that the air was so much clearer now? Had he truly been breathing all these years? As they widened in recognition, James found himself sinking into the meadows of her pale green eyes just as easily as he had the night he first saw her.

Eighteen. Eighteen freckles scattered across her face, the same amount there had been three winters ago when she had broken his heart. Her once long, silky, red locks had been cropped down to just below her neck. As James took her in, she cleared her throat. He could see the gears turning behind her eyes, searching and scanning for the perfect words for their first meeting in thirty-six months and fourteen days. She had always been so exact. So calculated. Every action she took was planned, every thing she said was with intent. James never thought about anything. He had always thought that their differences were why they were so electric together. 

She had always thought that it was what would tear them apart. 

“The cat misses you,” Lilly finally says. 

The sentence lands on James like a ton of bricks. She was still so… perfect. Her lips, still pink and full. He truly believes that there was no mouth other than hers that was ever meant to belong on his. Her voice, still soft but strong. Every word she uttered sounded like a song. Her. She was still completely and utterly perfect. 

He manages a smile and forces out a chuckle. A dent forms between her perfectly arched eyebrows. She sees right through him, just as she always had. James wouldn’t be surprised if Lilly Evans could see his shattered heart right through his chest.

A heart that is still only beating for her.

“Well, do be sure to tell Pheonix that I miss him right back.”

She grins, and despite the circumstances, there is something genuine behind it. Perhaps they are both thinking right back to that same day in the Gryffindor common room where they had rescued the mangy cat all those years ago. Seeing her smile sends a simultaneous wave of agony and joy through James.

As her smile fades, Lilly says, “I should be going now. My train for London leaves in ten.”

James nods and smiles politely. “Of course. It was great seeing you again, Lils.”

The fond nickname slips out of him involuntarily, but oh, he was glad it did. Her cheeks turned as bright and red as her hair, her eyes got big, and her plush mouth fell open slightly. A familiar thrill ran its course through James’s body. It had been so long, he had forgotten what her embarrassed face had looked like. His mind went back to his days at Hogwarts where he would spend any second of free time he had trying to elicit that reaction out of her. Being able to make her make that face was a privilege James had taken for granted for so long. 

Lilly gathered herself before speaking. “Nice seeing you as well. Goodbye, James.”

His name from her mouth was still as spell-binding as it had always been. 

James was repeating the ballad of her voice over and over again in his head as she brushed past him. A brief meeting; a hasty goodbye. James could not complain. Laying eyes on Lilly Evans was a gift in itself. 

Perhaps they will never meet again, and he will remain forever haunted by the memory of her, and the thought of what could have been. After all, James Potter was the sunrise, while Lilly Evans was the sunset. They will always stay chasing a different sky.

But, James cannot help but to hope that with all the maybes to ever exist, maybe, just maybe, he will find his way back to his Lilly Flower in another universe.

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: gore, contemplated su*cide, more gore

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

so the big chapter is here… bentleys plan goes about as good as you’d expect

part forty-two

❝ REALITY CHECK ❞

SATURDAY — SEPTEMBER 12 — 8:01 PM

ONE THING BENTLEY HAD NEVER, EVER, EVER IMAGINED, IN HIS WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE, WAS FOR HIM TO ACTUALLY HAVE SUPERPOWERS AND ACTUALLY BE SUITED UP AS ROBIN. (But he was! And he did! And he had no idea what he was doing!)

It only took him about fifteen or twenty minutes to make it to the heat of battle with his water for transport. Most of downtown Gotham was a disaster. Everything was burning — literally, on fire, with flames licking out of piles of rubble that used to be buildings, and especially in the pitch black of night, everything was glowing. Two dozen buildings had to have been flattened, probably more — the destruction was moving and swirling in a circle around a tall, untouched building in central Gotham (the same one Asten tried to jump off of), which had a huge dome of fire on top of it. Bentley assumed that’s where he was. Every sound, the crackling of the fire, the crumbling of buildings, the shouting of metahumans — it all meshed together into one insanely loud, menacing rumble that never seemed to end.

Bentley stood (hovered) off to the side for a few moments, out of the radius of the chaos, kind of terrified. Firstly, Damian’s armor didn’t fit him right, especially on his arms and legs, so a nicely placed blow could probably knock it straight off. And his cape kept getting all in the way and whipping around, and while it looked cool, he wasn’t sure how much he liked it. (The answer was he didn’t. He didn’t like it.)

Secondly, he had no idea where anybody was. He was simply hovering on water a whole lot of feet in the air, high enough to be above the crumbling buildings, and he could hardly see down far enough through the smoke and fire to make out people on the ground. So he had no clue where his family or any metahumans were.

Thirdly… he was about to, like, fight people, for real. The only people he’d ever, quote-on-quote, fought, were Dick and Damian and occasionally Jason and Tim when they were training him in self-defense. Y’know, people without superpowers who weren’t actually trying to kill him.

But… there’s always a first patrol, right? Robin always had a first patrol. He just guessed this would be his. (He couldn’t back out now.)

As he drew ever-closer to the epicenter of the destruction (slower than Christmas, because he was pretty horrified), he turned his earpiece on so he could hear what everybody was saying. His line of sight was slowly getting clearer, so he was starting to see all the multicolored metahumans moving around on the ground through the smoke (and in the sky, in a few cases), with flashes of light and so many different… colors, and sounds, and things. He could see what he was pretty sure was Mandy Todryk flying through the air with her massive raven wings, and he knew exactly where The Void was due to the blinding flashes of purple. 

“Robin,” Bruce’s Batman voice came through his earpiece, gruff and serious and not happy sounding in the slightest. The tone was just sour and flat enough that Bentley knew he meant him and not the real Robin. “You are not permitted to be on the field.”

Bentley looked around from his spot in the sky, levitating on water, until he spotted the big black blob that was Bruce on the ground, fighting against a metahuman with blue hair. 

“Sorry, B! Please don’t be mad!” He replied shortly, his eyes darting every which way. Bentley wasn’t sure how good he’d do in an actual fight against any of these metahumans, but he was pretty sure he could help his family when they needed it. So that’s what he would focus on — helping them. When they needed it. “I just want to help!”

“You need to return to the cave immediately!”

Bentley cringed. “I’m sorry!” And then he clicked the earpiece back off.

Bentley didn’t have time for a lecture just then — he was too busy trying to figure out who the little figure was flying in repetitive circles around the giant glowing bubble of fire on the center building. It was a small person, with no wings or anything, and it only took another second for him to realize that… he was pretty sure it was… Nico, trying to get to Asten.

“I found him, Charlie!”

Bentley shouted in terror when someone grabbed him by the arms and violently ripped his feet out of the water that’d been holding him up. The beating of loud wings filled his ears — Mandy Todryk’s wings. 

She laughed maniacally, and Bentley nearly threw up on queue as he watched all of the destruction move under his feet. The feet in question were dangling uselessly hundreds of yards in the air, and the far-off ground was moving at least sixty or seventy miles per hour below him. “Let go of me!”

“You’re choice!” Mandy chided. She let go of Bentley and, before he could react any more than another shout of horror, dove down and grabbed him by his feet instead, so he was dangling upside down. His cape whipped around and covered his face, making it impossible to see. (Seriously, how did they wear those things?)

Bentley only narrowly missed slamming his head into the top of a building (that Mandy had to have dipped toward on purpose.) He couldn’t seem to think, couldn’t seem to breathe — the water he’d been standing on was following them, but he could only see half of the time and it wasn’t fast enough to catch up.

“Let’s test if little bluebirds can fly!” Mandy chorused, waving Bentley back and forth as she flew in a way that made him so very nauseous.

“It’s a Robin, loser!” Bentley looked up just enough to see a blob fly into his vision from the other direction, going at least the same speed as them. It and Mandy collided in the middle, and the little figure latched onto Mandy’s wings and jerked them with all of their might, twisting her entire body and sending her veering off-course like a broken plane. Bentley slid from her grip and was suddenly freefalling.

And then he was very suddenly not, but someone was holding onto his torso very, very tight. (Which also made him want to hurl.) 

“Jesus, your suit doesn’t even have blue on it,”

Bentley was only halfway breathing, watching the ground move what seemed to be miles beneath them, but much slower. “Nico?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me,”

They hovered around in the sky for a few moments before Nico found a suitable, not-falling-apart or burning rooftop to set Bentley down on. It was on the outskirts of the circle of destruction where Asten’s power hadn’t reached yet.

He sat Bentley down (mostly) on his feet, and the redhead immediately sat down on the tar rooftop, relieved to be on something solid again. He was sucking in air like he’d never breathed in his life. “I’ve only been here five minutes and I already want to hurl.”

Nico landed next to him, panting like he’d been running a marathon. His t-shirt and sweatpants were both soaked through with sweat, and his hair was a floppy wet mess, probably from flying so close to the fire. He held up three fingers. “Three times already.”

Bentley furrowed his brow, pushing himself off the rooftop and peering off the building at the destruction around them. “You’ve thrown up three times?”

“These powers are trying to kill me, I think,” Nico stated, waving Bentley off. “It’s fine. It happens every time I use them.”

“You can go to the cave if you need to,” Bentley replied, watching a few metahumans move around on the ground, a couple losing a fight pretty badly to who Bentley was pretty sure was Red Hood. “Have you been able to get to Asten?”

“Nope,” Nico started, drifting up by his side and peering off the edge of the building. “The dome thing he has going on is way too hot to get close to. Air only makes it hotter. But you know what definitely doesn’t make fire hotter?”

Bentley looked over at Nico, who had a dorky look on his face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Maybe you could get us in there so we can talk to him,”

Bentley looked over at the dome of flame that was spitting and spinning like some kind of lava. “I could try. It looks pretty hot, though.”

“It is insanely hot, yes,” Nico agreed. “But getting through it is pretty much our only way to him.”

Bentley nodded, peering over the edge of the rooftop toward the dome. He could feel the water sloshing and moving in the pipes below them, and not a second later, there was a small pop, and water began to seep from the cracks and crevices in the tar roofing and slither over toward his feet.

“That’ll never look normal,” Nico muttered, and Bentley shook his head as the water wrapped around his feet and began to lift him up. 

Get to the dome. Put water on the dome. Calm Asten down. A foolproof plan. (Mediocre at best, really.)

“Ready?”

With a heavy sigh, Nico shook his hands out by his sides and began to levitate. “As ever.”

Bentley looked at the ground below to find his family. It didn’t take long — Dick was the first he found, fighting hand-to-hand with a metahuman who kept throwing bolts of electricity at him. (It wasn’t the metal controlling guy, which was good.) Jason was still fighting a group of metahumans that were losing very badly. (No vines.) The Secret Keeper was standing on top of a turned-over car, doing nothing but watching and tugging on Davis and Titus’s collars every now and then. (Which meant she wasn’t with Tim or Bruce.) Damian was sword fighting a girl that had a sword made of green light coming out of her hand?

With an exhale, Bentley let the water carry him off the edge of the building and over the deafening chaos and destruction again. Buildings that hadn’t been touched yet were starting to fall now, the circle of terror was getting bigger. Bentley knelt down on the little surfboard-like oval of liquid and tried to focus really hard on the dome and not the war going on beneath him that was all his fault. All his fault. All his fault.

As he and Nico drew nearer to the dome of fire, the temperature raised exponentially, and a sound like a blowtorch grew ever-louder. It went from bearable to magma in a split second, and he still had to be at least half a soccer field away. 

Suddenly, a strange, shrill thunder-like noise sent them both whirling in the complete opposite direction of their objective. Bentley’s eyes darted around wildly, combing through the fire and rubble and fighting until he spotted a swirling purple portal high in the sky above them, in the center of the destruction with no buildings around it at all.

Not three seconds later, Damian fell out of it.

There weren’t any buildings for him to grapple to. At the bottom of the drop waited nothing but concrete and rubble and ash.

She wasn’t lying.

Bentley didn’t even hear his own shrill “No!” Before his instincts took over. And his first instinct was to absolutely throttle himself in that direction as fast as his water would let him move. 

By that direction, he meant toward the ground. Damian was far away, falling really fast, and the only way Bentley would be able to reach him was if he somehow went even faster. But closer to the ground meant closer to all the metahumans. And that meant…

That something really tight grabbed Bentley’s ankle before he could make it to Damian’s landing spot, ripping him off of the water with enough force to make his ankle pop and spike with pain. He only felt air for a split second before he hit the concrete and rubble, back-first, with a dull thud and an embarrassing noise.

With a groan at the sudden dull pain that was radiating through every bone of his body (had he really been that high?) he looked up (why was he seeing two of everything?) just enough to catch a glimpse of some gnarly looking, deep green vines wrapped around his ankle.

He didn’t even get to turn over before they pulled on him again. They drug him through the rubble and debris without remorse, scraping up his exposed skin and tugging at his Robin suit until the vines decided to pull him off the ground and dangle him in the air, upside down. (Again.)

He could see Damian falling. He could see buildings cracking. He could see a random, bright red fire hydrant, jutting out of the ground.

With as much power as he could muster (even with his whole body being in a state of pain, and being upside down, again.) he willed the water up and out with such force that the entire fire hydrant was ripped from the concrete and shot into the air with a dull thunk. 

Hundreds of gallons of water came spewing out, straight up into the night sky, and Bentley used them to make a massive pyramid-shaped cone of water what he was pretty sure was beneath Damian. 

But he didn’t have time to see if it worked. Instead, the vines around his ankle moved and crawled up his whole body in a split second, curling around him like ropes and tying his legs and arms down so they couldn’t move. The vines continued to move, to wrap around his face, his eyes, his mouth, like a blindfold and gag. He tried to make a sound, but all that came out with a muffled mmm.

“I’ve got the little runt, Charlie. He ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Said a guy’s voice, only a little ways away from Bentley. He could feel himself moving, but he couldn’t tell what direction. He couldn’t shout, couldn’t see, and couldn’t hear anything but roaring destruction.

He felt Damian moving in the water. But he couldn’t see it, which meant he didn’t know what it looked like, which meant he couldn’t imagine it doing something else, which meant his powers were pretty much useless. 

Amidst all the chaos, he heard something akin to a shnnk.

Three seconds later, there was a shout of pain, and the vines loosened around Bentley, sending him crashing onto the concrete again. Head first, of course, and so hard that for a minute, he couldn’t see anything but stars or hear anything but a skull-piercing ring.

A moment (or a few? He couldn’t tell.) later, someone pulled him until he was sitting up. They were talking, but he couldn’t hear good, and he was pretty sure it was Damian, but it looked more like two Damians. 

Finally, as his vision and hearing started to come back fully, he forced himself onto his feet with a groan. His ankle (the same ankle he’d hurt by jumping out the window last year, by the way.) gave out halfway and he fell forward into Damian, who was literally Robin, (which wasn’t embarrassing at all.)

(Yes, it was.)

(Being a superhero was so freaking hard.)

Thankfully, Damian didn’t do anything like shove him or scoff at him. Instead, he helped him stand, and as Bentley’s cognitive abilities returned, he realized that Damian was squinting at him through his domino lenses. “It is absolutely idiotic for you to be here.”

A beat passed. Bentley’s eyes flicked down to the bloody katana in Damian’s hand.

“I suppose I should not have expected anything less,” Damian muttered, and he brought his empty hand up and touched Bentley’s forehead, which twinged with a sharp pain. “Your head is bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” Bentley stated, looking back at the bloody sword, and Damian did, too. Bentley then scoured the nearby rubble for bodies, but the burning debris came up empty. There were no vines and no metahumans.

“I only cut some of his fingers off. Then The Void took him away,”

“Oh,” Bentley muttered, blinking twice. “…Thanks.”

“You kept me from hitting the ground. I believe we are even,” Damian replied. “You-“

Before he could speak again, a purple portal opened right over Damian’s head, and The Void fell out of it right on top of him, pinning him to the rubble below. Her purple hair was cut weirdly, shorter on one side like Damian had gotten it with his katana. “Got you, you little rat!”

In one quick movement that Bentley could barely comprehend, she ripped a batarang from Damian’s belt and lifted it over her head.

“No!”

In another quick movement that Bentley could hardly comprehend, a massive column of water flew over like a battering ram, whamming into The Void and literally sending her flying at least a few yards away from them. She kept the batarang dutifully clasped in her right hand until she stopped tumbling and settled in the debris.

“You’re a little nightmare!” She screeched. A portal appeared beneath her, and she fell into it and disappeared.

Bentley didn’t even have time to make it to Damian before a portal appeared right in his face, an arm came out, and something pinched Bentley’s chest. The portal disappeared.

It took him a solid five seconds to look down and realize what had happened. 

She’d stabbed him instead.

One half of the shiny batarang was protruding from the center of his abdomen, and his red suit was getting suspiciously redder. It didn’t even hurt that bad. Why didn’t it hurt that bad? It only felt like when Damian kicked him during a spar, but he could clearly see that half of the batarang was inside of him. He was stabbed. He’d been stabbed.

(Superheroing sucked!)

“Batman, Robin is compromised. I repeat, Robin is compromised,” He could’ve sworn that was Damain talking, but he couldn’t exactly hear right. His blood was pumping too loud.

He lifted a shaky hand and grabbed the batarang, jerking it out with a nearly inaudible whine. “It's okay. I’m okay.”

Bentley vaguely heard Damian giving Bruce a location, but he couldn’t hear very well over his own blood. Did blood have water in it? Bentley looked down at his own abdomen and focused really hard on the blood that was leaking out. Blood had water in it, didn’t it?

The bloodstain started getting smaller. Going away. Going… back in?

It was a strange sensation -- although, so was being stabbed -- that wasn’t exactly painful but definitely wasn’t comfortable. Bentley’s heart was pounding in his ears and he could hardly believe what was happening, even though it was literally happening.

“It… it's okay. I can keep myself from bleeding,”

Damian looked at him like he was stupid. “You have been stabbed in an area that houses many vital organs.”

In the distance, Bentley saw Batman coming.

If he went back to the cave now, they could still die.

What had he been doing? Trying to put out the dome of fire? To get in it, if possible? To stop this? To save his family?

He had to do this.

Water came up and around Bentley’s feet and picked him up, bloody batarang still in his hand.

“Don’t you dare,” Damian threatened, but Bentley was already off the ground and floating toward the dome.

…Sort of. His floating wasn’t all it used to be since he was having to focus so hard to keep his blood in his body. It was taking double the focus it usually took to keep himself in the air, and the punched feeling was starting to turn into searing pain, which made the focusing even worse.

Damian yelled. Bentley ignored it.

“You’re psychotic!”

Bentley turned until his eyes met Nico’s wide blue ones. He was flying down from the building with the dome, face panicked, gaze locked on Bentley’s abdomen. “You were stabbed!”

“I’ll be fine,” The redhead replied, floating past Nico at a glacial pace. “I just need to get to the dome.”

“I don’t think you’re comprehending the severity of this situation correctly. You were stabbed,”

“I know,”

“Stabbed,”

“I know!” Bentley replied, wincing at the pain caused by the effort. “I’ve been shot. That was worse.”

“You’re losing your mind!”

Bentley said nothing as he grew close to the dome of fire, the heat washing over him and making him feel ten times closer to dying. He held the batarang out just a little farther when he got as close as he dared. He had to be here to save them.

“You need to- wha… what are you doing? Oh, God, don’t tell me you’re…”

Bentley kept the batarang out there until it started to turn red hot (which took an alarmingly short amount of time, during which he was very thankful for the fireproof gloves.) and as soon as it was ready, he tore the Robin suit a little more at the hole and pressed the metal against his skin with no hesitation.

He wasn’t sure who screamed first — him or Nico.

Everything was a blur of white-hot agony, and for a second, he couldn’t see, the next second, someone was holding him under the armpits. The water wasn’t under him anymore. “Stop, no, no, I forbid you from passing out while we’re in the air. Absolutely forbid.”

A second (hour?) later, he was laid down on a rooftop. 

“Bentley, dude, buddy, stay awake. How do I work your earpiece? How can I talk to them without leaving you here?”

Bentley’s senses vaguely started to come back to him for a second time. “I’m okay.”

“Shut up,”

“I’m-“

“Shut up! Just tell me how to talk to your dad!” Nico ordered. His face was hovering above Bentley, along with a smoky, starry sky, but there were about three Nicos at the moment. 

“Am I bleeding?”

Nico looked down at Bentley’s stomach. “I-I… guess not, but-“

Bentley pushed himself upright.

And it was a horrendous idea. A wave of pain so absolutely devastating seared through his abdomen like he had gasoline for blood. It reverberated through every bone in his body, and the world went dark. He didn’t hear himself scream.

—

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he came to, but when he did, he was still on that rooftop, and Nico was crying next to him.

He blinked and let out a groggy groan.

“Bentley? God, dude, stop passing out! You’ve done it, like, five times!”

Bentley blinked some more. Five times? He’d woken up and passed out five different times and he couldn’t even remember it?

Everything was starting to feel like a mixture of pain, pain, and more pain. His whole body was sore from being thrown around, his head was throbbing, his stab wound was still blazing with a fiery agony, and he was really tired.

Nico sniffled. Bentley was pretty sure his head was on Nico’s lap, because his face was upside down and right over Bentley’s own. “Jason has been talking to Asten. I think the dome is cooling down a little bit, if you think you can-“

Someone thudded on the rooftop next to them.

“So close, yet so… far, Whittaker. You really thought you could change the future I put in place,”

Bentley pulled himself upright with a grunt of pain, just so he could get a good look at The Secret Keeper. She looked giddy as ever, her bright, excited amber eyes making her twisted stitched smile look even more twisted. She no longer had Davis and Titus with her.

“You’re so… naive. I show you one little lie and you move forward without question. You don’t understand, Bentley, that I control you,” The Secret Keeper held out her hand, and Bentley felt something in his mind change. He started to move, but his brain wasn’t telling him to move, her’s was. “It’s all been games until now. Watch what Bentley picks, it’ll be fun. But now is the time that I get to win.”

Bentley watched Nico’s eyes turn amber, and not a second later, his nose began to bleed. “I have dominion over everything. I can control you. I can control your thoughts. I can control your powers.”

Water started seeping out of the tar roofing of the building they were on without Bentley telling it to. It floated into the air in a stream, like a rope, and began tying itself in a knot. Bentley tried to say something but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. She couldn’t just… control him like that. There was no way.

“I’m going to kill you… and then I’m going to kill everyone you love. I’m going to watch this city burn,” The water rope twisted and swirled itself into a noose. “And you’re not.”

As hard as Bentley tried to fight, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t control the water. The noose came and went over his head, and then he walked to the ledge of the building even though he was telling his body to stop, even though his agony just got worse with every movement.

This could not be how it ended.

He was facing the building with the dome in the center, overlooking all of the destruction. He could see faint figures moving below. He saw The Void appear behind Damian and kick him in the head, sending him thudding into the rubble. He saw the guy with half-white-half-black hair shove Dick into some debris. He saw Tim and Bruce, back to back, with at least twelve metahumans around them. Duke and Steph and Cass were doing something similar with even more metahumans around them, far off.

The dome of fire flickered, then went away.

“Aw, pity. They were so close,” The Secret Keeper muttered, running a hand through Bentley’s hair from behind in a very creepy manner that he wasn’t allowed to move away from.

Asten and Jason were the only two on the center building’s rooftop, talking, but Bentley couldn’t hear them. Asten fell on his knees and more buildings shook, one in particular right next to them collapsing from the bottom up with plumes of smoke and a deafeningly loud crash.

The Secret Keeper’s breath brushed against Bentley’s face when she whispered: “Listen.”

Time seemed to move slower than normal, and Bentley could suddenly hear Asten and Jason even over the massive distance between them.

“-this out,” Was the tail end of Red Hood’s sentence that Bentley caught. Asten shook his head, his eyes still glowing a bright orange and overflowing with waves after waves of tears. 

“I-I can’t control it. I can't make it stop,”

“You can, I know you can,” Jason tried. He stepped forward and, ever so slowly, took off his helmet. “I believe in you.”

Asten’s eyes widened, but only for a second, because he flinched again when another building fell, looking off the roof. “I can’t. I can’t, Jason, I’m killing people.”

“You can,”

Asten’s eyes flicked up to Jason, and in one sharp movement, he jumped off of his knees and ripped one of Red Hood’s pistols out of a hip holster, pressing the barrel against his own blue hair.

“I’m murdering people and I can’t make it stop!” Asten shouted, a few violent sobs wracking his body. 

“Your death is not the answer. It’s never been the answer,” Jason shouted, moving closer, one hand out. “You’ve lost so much, but you still have so much to live for.”

“I’m killing people that have so much more to live for than that,” Asten replied, the gun shaking against his temple, tears streaming down his face. “I deserve it.”

“Asten, please, listen to me. I know how bad this world can hurt you, but giving up isn’t the answer. Kicking it's ass is,” Jason explained, stepping closer. “Please, give me the gun.”

Asten didn’t move. He just stood there.

“We’ll help you through this, but please… please don’t give up,” Jason moved his hand closer. “Give me the gun, kid.”

Instead of handing it over, Asten passed out. His eyes rolled back into his head, and the gun clattered on the rooftop. Thankfully, Jason managed to catch Asten before he hit.

“Poor little thing. It’s a real shame he won’t make it,”

Won't make it? The Secret Keeper was a dirty liar. How on earth would Asten not make it? His powers couldn’t kill him, could they?

Bentley watched Jason perform a few procedures that grew more and more frantic. Then he reached up and turned on his comm. “B, this kid isn’t breathing!”

And suddenly, Bentley couldn’t hear them anymore. All of the fire in the city died down, the destructive roar fading to a dull hum now that the source was gone. Everything seemed to still in a very eerie way, even the metahumans on the ground, who all looked around in confusion.

There Bentley was, stood on the edge of a building with a noose of water around his neck, and the Secret Keeper’s hands on his shoulders. Strangely numb, feeling rage and desperation and vengeance that he couldn’t display, not even in a scowl, because his body wasn’t his own. It was her’s.

“Forward,”

Bentley’s foot moved closer to the edge, tauntingly. He closed his eyes and focused hard on the Secret Keeper, but he couldn’t — he couldn’t sense her, or any water, or anything. He was blind.

“Go on,”

He stepped closer.

In the back of his mind, he heard something so softly he could’ve missed it. Something moving. Blood pumping. Bum, bum, bum, over and over, moving through veins. The Secret Keeper’s blood.

“Over the edge,”

Bentley, mustering up every tiny bit of willpower he had left, muttered through clenched teeth: “No.”

The Secret Keeper shoved him anyways.

Bentley wasn’t sure what he expected it to feel like, but he didn’t exactly expect it to feel like his whole head was going to explode. He very suddenly couldn’t breathe, and it was difficult to move his arms to try and tug at the noose. The whole thing spun around with him in it so he was facing the Secret Keeper, who was smiling maniacally. 

Bentley was about to die.

Bentley Whittaker was about to die.

With one last push of energy, he channeled everything he had into her. Every little drop of rage he could muster from anywhere in his mind, from the pesky nightmares, to this, to chasing Asten the first night, for tormenting his family — every ounce of raw emotion and power he could force his body to give, he focused it all on her, on the blood in her veins, for one last, final hoorah.

(If he was dying, he wasn’t doing it alone.)

The Secret Keeper doubled over and vomited crimson all over the rooftop. But Bentley kept pushing. He kept going until

it was pouring out of her nose, dripping from her ears, running from her eyes like tears. The world was getting darker. He could feel her heart pounding, pounding, pounding well over double or triple the speed it was supposed to, but he didn’t stop. She hit her knees and started screaming. Nico’s eyes turned blue again, and he fell unconscious behind her.

“You’re going to kill me!”

The screaming got loud and torturous then. Like someone was cutting her up piece by piece, as every once of blood was drained from her body, she screamed and she screamed and eventually… she stopped.

The water went slack, and Bentley started freefalling.

With whatever he had left, he formed a bubble of water beneath him that he could land in.

When he hit, everything was black. He couldn’t think. He was only just remembering how to breathe, and his head was throbbing like nothing he’d ever experienced. The water he landed in went slack around him and left him laying on a pile of wet rubble.

His body was in so much pain at the same time that it was so numb. He could feel everything and nothing, all at once. He felt that his stab wound had reopened, and was now pouring a warm liquid all over him that he didn’t have the willpower to stop. His neck was sore, maybe even bleeding, too. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t really feel it. He wanted to yell for Bruce but he couldn’t.

“You killed her,”

Bentley peeled his eyes open just enough for a hazy, tilting, doubling picture of a metahuman to come into view. It was the guy with half-white-half-black hair. There were metahumans behind him, looking around strangely, like they didn’t know where they were. Was Charlie really dead? Did that mean the mind control wasn’t working anymore?

The rubble beneath him shifted, and a large, mangled piece of metal began floating out of it. 

“You killed Charlie,” The metahuman repeated. The mangled metal made it's way to Bentley, hovering in the air straight above him. “You’ll pay for that.”

Was the Secret Keeper really dead?

The mangled piece of metal was thrusted into Bentley’s chest with force so strong that he felt it hit the rubble on the other side.

It was only then that he realized, this was what she showed him. 

Him and Jason, in the lazarus pit, him dressed as Robin. Dead, impaled by a piece of metal debris.

This…

This was the reality where Bentley Whittaker died.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Ok, it's no surprise that I deeply enjoy Much Ado About Nothing as a play (and there are some truly delightful film and filmed staged productions), and there's a lot of talk about the scene between Beatrice and Benedick after Hero and Claudio's aborted wedding (Act IV, scene i).

What I don't see a lot of though, is how Benedick literally accidentally talks Beatrice into asking him to kill Claudio.

Yeah, Beatrice didn't walk into that scene ready to ask BENEDICK to make this right. Let's walk through the lesser-quoted lines from this scene.

We all know the iconic, "Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while," but then we get this little exchange:

Benedick. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. Beatrice. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! Benedick. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beatrice. A very even way, but no such friend. Benedick. May a man do it? Beatrice. It is a man's office, but not yours.

Benedick asking if a man may do "it" is a blatant offer to try to fix things, but it's pretty damn clear at this point in the text that he has big-ass heart eyes and hasn't thought this offer through, because the way to right Hero is to either get Claudio to recant--which he's not going to do because that is going to make him look like an absolute dingus and it will embarrass Don Pedro--or else to kill him in a duel. To ask a man to kill his best friend--even if that best friend is a complete and utter chungus--is cruel. It is one thing to call a friend out for being a dick to Hero, but to ask for Benedick's to be the hand that kills Claudio is a whole other level that Beatrice is going out of her way to excuse him from.

She is explicitly--and correctly, frankly, given the chains of command and power dynamics involved--excusing Benedick from being responsible for Claudio's behavior and correction. And while yes, part of dismantling the patriarchy is men holding each other accountable, murder is not accountability, it's the beginning of a goddamn blood feud. So Beatrice is over here very subtly going "You have clearly not thought this offer through, and I'm not going to ask you to kill your best friend." It is not his office.

And rather than hearing what Beatrice is saying, Benedick goes and MAKES IT HIS OFFICE by declaring his love for Beatrice. Which like...aside from this being not the moment, it just makes it even clearer that Benedick is not actually listening to Beatrice here. His focus is on her, but Beatrice is razor-focused on Hero and the fact that Claudio just more or less ended Hero's life. But here's the other thing.

I subscribe to the "Beatrice and Benedick had a prior relationship before the play and it ended badly" theory, because I think it explains a lot about their dynamics. But that also makes this scene a little bit risky and pointed. Because yeah, while Beatrice warns him not to swear he loves her and then eat his words, if they have a history, then her "Kill Claudio" is not just a request. It's a test.

He already didn't choose her once, presumably for way lower-stakes reasons. So to ask him to choose her, to be on her side, with all of what that means, is a test of a possible new relationship. And it's one Benedict comes perilously close to failing, because of course he's not going to kill his best friend and brother-in-arms.

And just like that, Beatrice is out, because Benedick "dare easier be friends with [her] than fight with [her] enemy." His choice is not her, and she will not be anyone's second choice. Especially given that choosing Claudio means that Benedick is engaging in the infuriating mental gymnastics where Hero can have been done badly wrong, but Claudio somehow isn't Hero and Beatrice's enemy.

This is not a complicated situation; Claudio was absolutely in the wrong, caused harm, and needs to be called on the goddamn carpet for it, and Benedick is over here trying to "both sides" it. I'd have been out too, and then he has the nerve to insist that he and Beatrice be friends before she's allowed to leave the stage! I adore that she then full-on goes off on him, and every single time Benedick tries to get a word in edgewise, Beatrice comes up with another argument and just cuts his ass off. There is no "letting him explain," there is no "I'm just playing devil's advocate," there is no "trust me, I know Claudio." There is only the facts of what happened, and Beatrice hammering them directly into Benedick's head. Lots of productions cut out the attempted interruptions by Benedick in favor of letting Beatrice run with a monologue, but if you look at the text, he tries FOUR SEPARATE TIMES to interrupt her.

But Beatrice just steamrolls on, and the thing is, it works.

Beatrice hits and refutes key arguments that we can just imagine Benedick bringing up. The bullshit logic of him being in a romantic relationship with Beatrice while supporting Claudio's actions. The undeniable public slander of Hero. The bullshit that is slut-shaming and measuring a woman's worth by her virginity. The divide between an "ideal" manhood and the reality of men's behavior. The nonsense that is how easily men are valorized for slandering women. Every point brought up and thrown in Benedick's face until he is left with only one final question; the only possible question that could matter at the end of this scene:

Benedick. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?

And Beatrice is very, very sure. Which ultimately is enough for Benedick to choose her, and agree that yeah, Claudio needs to be called out and corrected, and he is now on board with taking that responsibility.

It is kind of wild to me that this scene begins with Beatrice trying to protect Benedick from the reality of the situation, and insisting that if he wants to be in love with her, if he wants to be in her life again, then this time he has to choose her for all that that means. And as Beatrice makes clear, what that means is a disruption--if brief--of the patriarchy and the status quo. Being with Beatrice means that Benedick has to stop being the prince's jester and stand against toxic masculinity and harmful patriarchy in a real, concrete way.

It's Shakespeare, so that doesn't stick beyond the happy ending, but it is here, and Beatrice really said "if you want to be with me, you have to stand with and for me and the women around me" when it was clear Benedick wasn't taking no for an answer.

[death-himself]

ok episode 6 thoughts

decent episode, doesn't top episodes 4 or 5 for me but it was good

kronos being portrayed by his headmaster is an interesting choice

the iris message is so much blurrier than I always imagined i'm crying

144p iris message you would think it would be clearer but nope that's so funny to me

with how involved rick is with the show that means that's always what he imagined iris messaging looking like I can't iris messaging is ruined for me

we didn’t get percy talking to the zebra T-T it’s fine tho i forgot that even happened in the book until i checked after watching

their whole conversation while watching the animals escape i love them

their chemistry is perfect in this episode

THE LOTUS CASINO HAS A ROLLER COASTER WHAT

i get people wanted poker face, but the dua lipa song is perfect, it’s like a slightly more modern version

i don’t know fashion throughout the centuries so i can’t really say anything about the costume designs, but i kinda wish there were more obviously out of place outfits in the lotus

is augustus mentioned at all in the books? i don’t remember a satyr named augustus so i guess he was made just for the tv series?

luring grover in with pan is a cool change

grover slowly losing his memory was played pretty well

i keep getting impressed by how good these kids are as actors

i honestly don’t know why people hate on lin manuel miranda so much, i think he made for a pretty good hermes this episode

but also the way they’re portraying hermes feels a little bit off?? i don’t really know how but something didn’t feel right about his character

i do feel like he’s the most “human” out of the gods introduced so far, and i think that came through pretty well

“to be so close to someone you love, knowing neither of you has any choice but to keep hurting each other?” that line is just-

as someone with a really complicated relationship with my dad that line just hurt goddamn

the flashback percy had??? i feel like that line doesn’t 100% relate to percy and sally’s relationship, but i see how that’d be how percy would feel

unless i’m dumb and that was referencing his relationship with poseidon lol

ok the end of their talk with hermes i wanna talk about that a bit

parenting sometimes being watching your kid struggle and being powerless to stop it: completely true

“we’re all just doing the best we can” now that’s some godly bullshit

the difference between that first quote and gods being parents is that they’re literally capable of doing anything

they could be more present in their kids lives, they just CHOOSE not to, that’s how it works in the books

sure it’s coming from a place where he thinks interacting will only make things worse but???

i can’t articulate my thoughts, i liked this scene tho, my thoughts on hermes are mixed as they should be

ANNABETH STEALING HERMES’S KEYS

“i’m multi-talented” I LOVE HER

percy forgetting grover felt so unsettling to me

hermes driving a taxi so real

percy trying to drive, i’m not gonna lie, that scene went on a little too long for me, but i was laughing the whole time so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ok percy getting 4 pearls instead of 3??? idk why but that change pissed me off

i paused to get out the book, and i guess it makes more sense then hades just deciding to return her

but at the same time there’s the line in the prophecy, he’s supposed to leave her in the underworld for that part of the prophecy

are they just going to end up accidentally breaking one of the pearls or trading it or something? that’s the only way i can see that still working out

i feel like these episode reviews always turn out sounding more negative than positive, but i swear i’m enjoying the hell out of this series, i just have trouble articulating joy lol

[rayclubs]

Do you have any advice on how to improve writing characters and character interactions?

Yes! Oh my god, this ask got me so excited I’m actually typing out the response in a word document. Let’s fucking go. I’ll try to omit any well-known advice like “read other books” and “practice a lot”, y’all know that already, so I’ll get straight to practical tips. I’ll also be bringing up examples from my TF2 fics because it’s easier for me to make my points this way, and also because my fics are epic and you should totally read them.

Branch out from the widely recognized go-to emotion signifiers. Watch the people around you and notice how often they raise an eyebrow when confused, or tilt their head when inquisitive, or clench their fists when angry – it’s not entirely implausible that they do it, but chances are, they also do something else that’s way more unique, more interesting, more “them”.

It makes emotions personal, but it also makes gestures and non-verbal interactions personal. In the beginning of my fic “Kill the Red”, Soldier salutes Pyro in the way of encouragement because that is how Soldier acts when he’s trying to be reassuring and confident. At the end of the fic, this happens: “(Pyro) glanced up, found Soldier’s eyes, and gave him back that salute he owed.” It’s a very small bit, but it reinforces Soldier’s characterization as an assuring, commanding presence, as well as Pyro’s impressionable but proactive personality, and helps define their unique dynamic. I could have had Soldier give Pyro a pat on the back instead and be done with it, and the fic wouldn’t suffer too much, but what I went with in the end is way better.

Dialogue is my favorite part of the writing process, but it’s also the easiest to mess up. Here’s few important things to keep in mind when writing dialogue.

Get to the point. Skip the vocal fills, greetings and goodbyes, and all deceivingly human junk that is so easy to get caught up in. Have your characters say what they want to say, in the way that only they would say it, and be done with it. If there’s no consequence or weight to the way someone says “sorry”, write simply that the character apologized, but don’t dignify it with quotes and a dialogue tag. That’s for special occasions only.

Make dialogue tags into actions. There’s a bunch of examples for this in all my fics, here’s some from “Close Call”.

“Coming to a professional?” Spy smiled, eyes narrow like those of a mischievous cat.

“Where?” Soldier squinted and leaned forward but seemed to be looking in the wrong direction, just slightly too far to the left.

“I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.” A cardboard folder was pressed into Sniper’s chest. Spy grinned proudly. “Take a look.”

He clutched the steering wheel. “It’s the only big enough clearing in these bloody woods.”

Like, it’s such a technical advice, but I read fanfiction and I know how many people struggle with this, and it just helps the flow of conversation so much? You can say “said” and “replied” and other such words, but it really does wonders to intersperse them with actions that do not imply speaking at all. This is also how I manage conversations among multiple people without constantly going “X asked” and “Y answered”. It establishes the presence of every character in the scene in a proactive manner but doesn’t overburden the text with needless clarifications.

Count your lines. That’s a simple one. Count your paragraphs to make it so the characters’ lines alternate. Even if nobody says anything, count that paragraph as a line too. It just makes text so much clearer.

Make characters say what they think. This is so basic but like. I saw the exact opposite advice once and it bugs me so much. No, you don’t obscure the characters’ intentions and feelings in fifty layers of unnecessary misunderstandings to create pointless drama, that’s the opposite of a good story! That’s how you get the one part of Shrek 1 that literally everyone criticized! Goddammit!

There’s a weird example of this with chapter three of my “Vignette Collection”, ironically titled “misunderstanding”. The gist of the fic is that Pyro communicates via gestures and social cues that Medic is too autistic to understand. It works – again, ironically – because both of them say exactly what they mean, even if they don’t understand each other and see the world differently. The resolution is fucking hilarious fitting because the conflict doesn’t exist strictly on the level of phrasing, there is an actual clash of interest in there. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t make sense. Good god.

Make characters be wrong. It’s hard to explain but there’s a really good example in my “Acceptable Losses”. The context of the scene is that Medic is injured and Spy is worried about him, though, importantly, he doesn’t say it verbally. The story is from Medic’s POV, and at some point this happens: “Spy reached into his front pocket for the cigarette case, but reconsidered, for some reason.”

The “for some reason” bit is Medic’s thoughts. I know the reason. You – the reader – know the reason. The reason is that the man is concerned and doesn’t want to smoke up the kitchen when his friend needs clean air and a healthy meal. The only one who doesn’t get this is the point-of-view character. This characterizes him as someone who is accepting of other people’s occasionally strange disposition, but ultimately oblivious to social clues.

This bit alone doesn’t amount to much, but this trait reinforced like fifty times throughout the story works to built that character trait well.

Incorporate metaphors into characterization. I fucking love doing this so much. I have two fics that practically do nothing but this – “What’s it called, Engie?” and “Seasons”. I could write fucking essays about my thought process for both of them but this is already so long so let’s just briefly consider the former. On a side note, I hate that I named it that, I usually have nice names for my fics but that one fucking pisses me off. Anyway.

In “What’s it called, Engie?” Soldier and Engineer alternate POV’s as the story sees them build a close relationship over the course of several unconnected scenes. The core theme is that Soldier cannot express his emotions verbally in a manner that makes sense, so he works through associations instead, and Engie helps him navigate it, all while learning more about the way he sees the world in the process. Well, within this metaphor, Engie is a bee – a busy creature with a nurturing nature and an unexpected sting, while Soldier is an old tree – big and easy to stand out but purposeless and “dry”, as in emotionally. So here’s a few lines from the fic that practically state that directly:

Dell’s voice sounded like watching a bus leave seconds before you could reach it. Like waking up in the middle of the night finding no water at the bedside. Like winter striking too early and forcing the bees to hide.

Bees picked the nicest flowers with open petals, overflowing with nectar and so full of pollen it made people sneeze. Jane couldn’t imagine why such a hard-working genius bee would waste its time trying to nurture a dried-out old twig.

He stayed quiet. Like the silence of a flower to the buzz of a bee, sometimes no answer was an answer too.

And here are a few lines that are not about any of that at all:

“Here, how’s that feelin’?” – and up went the metal case, unfolding into a dispenser, adding its soft hum to the buzz of the workshop.

The clock ticked and tacked like a woodpecker fussing over a worm-eaten tree trunk.

There was a long pause before more words followed, shaky like tree branches in the wind.

“Can I still keep coming to your workshop though? I like how it buzzes.”

Here’s the kicker: THEY’RE ALL THE SAME IMAGERY. They’re the same fucking thing. Trees, bees, hums, buzzing, they’re the same metaphor. There’s one metaphor in that goddamn fic. This is so easy to write but can be so effective, it feels like it should be illegal.

(Another side note: I could write a dissertation about all the shit going on in that fic, like, there’s the naming of characters, the vibrant metaphors of Soldier’s POV contrasting with the practical view that Engie has of the world, the tiny little bits of blink-and-you-miss-it characterization, etc etc okay sorry to brag so much I’m just insane)

This is getting REALLY long so here’s just a few more points with very brief examples to wrap up, and let me know if you want to hear me ramble about writing some more because I love it to a ridiculous degree like. Okay.

You can use association to built unique metaphors. Try to imagine a feeling in your head, pick a few things that feel similar, and then tweak them so they fit the overall theme. My favorite theme is nature and weather metaphors, and my favorite example of this is this line from “Falter” – “Demo plowed through the ocean of their misfortunes with the ferocity of a steam engine, and Soldier clung to him like a flea to a fur coat.”

A character arc does not necessarily have to change your character in a big way. Sniper goes through a character arc in “Close Call”, but it manifests in really small ways, such as him resolving to call his parents, or him letting Spy have his coffee maker.

Also like. Basic but you need to have an idea of where the story is going and why, even if it’s a really small-scale story with very low stakes. That way you can introduce things in the beginning and then call back on them at the end. It’s called a circular plot structure, but on a smaller scale it does not have to be the whole plot, it can just be individual elements that aren’t plot-relevant, like the coffee maker described above.

Use nomenclature as a tool of characterization. Decide what words your characters use to refer to others and to themselves, and stick by that. Differentiate them this way. It’s fun.

Anything can be a bit of characterization. It never exists in a vacuum. You have to get into your character’s brain and just sit there all the time. Good luck.

Hope this was at least a little bit informative. Cheers!