#ty for for tagging along

[hotluncheddie]

eddie, steve

.🥞✨

‘uh, the pancakes with bacon please, extra syrup? thanks.’

eddie knows that order. he makes it every saturday night, so late it’s almost morning.

but he’s never heard that voice before, never heard it so close, right by the pass window.

he swallows. turning from the sink in the back to face out into the diner, someone’s sat at the counter, right across from him.

the most beautiful boy eddie’s ever seen.

he’s looking right at eddie, cheeks slightly pink, fiddling with a still wrapped straw. he looks perfect and cozy and adorable, hair sleep rumpled and in a hoodie that swallows up his soft lines, making him look even softer.

‘coming right up.’ eddie rasps, his own cheeks colouring.

but the boy, he smiles. ducks his head, looks up at eddie through his lashes.

eddie’s a fucking goner.

-

steve can’t believe it. his eyes are even bigger this close up, big and brown and sparkling with life.

his hands are just as nice this close up too, delicate but capable as they move around where steve can see. he sticks his tongue out a little when he concentrates. it’s adorable.

he’s the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

he puts steves finished pancakes in the window with a little smile, rings the bell and seems to blush even harder. almost cringing at the sound. it’s makes steve laugh, he’s cute.

and they’re still the best pancakes the midwest has to offer, at denny’s, at 3am. even sober and nervous and exited like he is.

steve can’t help closing his eyes like always when he takes his first bite. always blown away by their sweet fluffy texture. and he makes his way through them a little quicker than normal, without robin to distract him.

they taste as good as normal but he’s right there. right there watching steve eat them. something about it makes him feel shy, barely daring to look up from his plate. but when he does the line cook has the softest smile on his face and steve relaxes, tucks his hand under his hoodie to rest on his stomach like normal. finished his pancakes.

when steve looks up again, the guy is staring at his empty plate, kind of stuck in space. but then he vanished for a moment and the door to the kitchen opens. and he’s coming over, picking up the syrupy plate and he has freckles, bats tattooed on his arm.

he’s so close. he’s so pretty this close.

the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

‘eddie?’ steve blurts, exited, finally able to read his name tag. his names eddie.

his name is eddie.

eddie’s cheeks get pink, the tips of his ears. he looks at steve with wide eyes ‘yeah?’ he asks, voice small and confused.

steve grins at him. ‘your names eddie.’ and he watched eddie’s smile bloom, he has dimples.

‘wha’ eddie clears his throat. ‘what’s yours?’ and steve feels his heart burst, feels like sunshine and crisp leaves.

‘steve.’ he says, a little breathless.

‘steve.’ eddie whispers.

‘when do you go on break?’ steve asks, heart beating in his throat.

eddie just shrugs, eyes still wide. ‘whenever. as long as there’s no customers in.’ and steve realises he’s the only one here. it makes him blush more, for some reason.

‘make us another batch?’ he asks, deciding to be brave, leaning over the counter, just to be a little closer. ‘we can share.’ and it’s so worth it. to see the smile grow on eddie’s face, watch him nod, watch a curl slip out of his bun. watch him work his magic through that little pass window. stealing glances at steve as he goes.

-

watching steve enjoy his food is even better close up. even better than eddie could’ve imagined.

they’re sitting in steve’s usual booth, eddie’s where robin normally sits, he finally has a name for the cool girl steve hangs out with. gets to hear a little about how they met, can tell he loves her, so much. it’s sweet, his eyes shining as he talks.

so is the way steve cuts the pancakes, sweet, pushing perfectly stacked mouthfuls towards eddie to have. pancake, bacon, pancake. all covered in syrup, sticky and delicious.

eddie never really even liked pancakes much, more of a waffle guy. but sitting here, watching steve eat them, laughing and smiling at things eddie says. jaw just a little soft, upper lip smattered with hair. watching steve sigh and stretch when they’re done. that hand coming to rest on his stomach again, the way it always does, every saturday night.

eddie knows he’ll always love pancakes.

-

‘how do you get them to be so good?’ steve asks, hand circling eddie’s wrist loosely, stopping him before he goes back to his job, an orders come in, he has to go. but steve needs to ask, wants to know. wants one more moment with him.

eddie smiles, takes steve’s hand and kisses the back of it. and it’s so out of place, at denny’s, at 4 am that steve giggles, almost manic. it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.

‘they’re made with love sweetheart.’ eddie says, looking up at him from his bow, kissing his hand again before walking away. the napkin with steve’s number on tucked safely in his back pocket.

steve’s forearm scrawled in the black ink of eddie’s own.

steve goes home and falls straight to sleep. so late its almost morning, like every saturday night.

he dreams of brown eyes, and syrup.

<3

fin.

ty for reading! mwah!

@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @spectrum-spectre @stevesbipanic @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @acedorerryn @scoops-aboy86

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]

{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.

After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?

Not them, evidently.

He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.

He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.

It had kept him up for days.

The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.

He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.

It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.

He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.

Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.

His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.

The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.

The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.

"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"

His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.

His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.

He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.

Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.

He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.

For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.

And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.

He's not sure what he sees is better, though.

Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.

So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?

It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.

Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.

The throne of the world was a lie.

The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.

He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.

He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.

"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.

"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.

Huh.

They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.

"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."

"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."

He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."

"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."

He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.

"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.

"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.

"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."

He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

"Laughing stock" can be their ship name ;)

OHHHHH GALAXY BRAIN thats so good omg. LaughingStock my beloved <3

[kitnita]

Ty Dellandrea (53) of the San Jose Sharks skates off after scoring a goal on Jake Oettinger (29) of the Dallas Stars during the second period against the Dallas Stars at American Airlines Center on October 15, 2024 in Dallas, Texas. He is then congratulated by Carl Grundstrom (91), Mario Ferraro (38), and Nico Sturm (Sam Hodde / Getty Images)

[verysmallcyborg]

WE'VE DONE IT, MY FRIENDS. FORNAX HAS THEIR 300 ONSAL WIN TITLE!!!! who am i anymore. what do i do now (more pvp)

roughly 4 months for 200 wins.... to think i told myself "i'll never get that title :(" last year, yet here we are..... WORTH IT. I HAD FUN MOST OF THE TIME (and i'll def keep pvp'ing, but less intensely, unless it's seal rock day and friends want company for seal rock coat progress)

[drones-of-innocence]

Hi,

The TL;DR of this post is this will no longer be a Mario blog, and I won't be participating in any kind of fandom here anymore.

This is for anyone who keeps tabs on me for any reason, but specifically my fanfiction I guess. I'm a writer so this will be a little long winded lol, but feel free to read what you want.

First I want to thank everyone who kept up with and read my story I'll Never Let You Go. At the time of writing, it was my best work and existed quietly in my drafts for seven or eight years as I built and built it up. It's the longest story I have ever completed, the eclipse of my skills and experiences at a time when all I wanted was to carry across a story about star-crossed lovers while I myself longed for such a fairytale love. While publishing, I invited artists to participate in a small challenge, which resulted in these lovely posts (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8), and set the stage beautifully for me to reveal the major twist of the story. I thank everyone who participated in making that moment so special for me. I'm very proud of the story and how it turned out after all this time. But I'm ready to move onto greater things.

And to anyone who has read any of my other works, thank you. My muse is an impulsive creature and I followed it toward many stories which sometimes had strange methods behind them but ultimately turned into projects I could be proud of. It means the world that my random explorations met any kind of audience with such positive reception.

Fandom has become a problem for me. What used to feel relaxed and creatively exciting now feels like a source of pressure. I caved into it once or twice and posted stories or art or whatever in the past specifically designed to heighten attention or exposure to my work. It never worked quite like I thought and always made me feel a little gross afterward. I may erase these works once I track them down. But now the pressure isn't even creative, it's become more or less of a social performance for me which I am not willing to participate in anymore.

So from now on, I'm going to blog what I want to and write whatever comes to me. Mario or not, fanwork or not. There are still some Mario stories mostly done that I want to share and I may do that in my own time, but it will not be with any intention except to please myself.

I think I'm moving towards more original ideas. There are fan concepts I want to finish out, and if I do it will take time.

Anyway. If any of this doesn't resonate with you, that's fine. Most of my stories will remain up and I'm happy to interact regarding those, but otherwise I would appreciate to not be included in the fandom community on Tumblr anymore. I'll hopefully occasionally find the will to browse for fanfic myself, though lately I haven't been much in the mood to read it. Feel free to unfollow or block or whatever you need to do. I wish you luck. I'm looking forward to being more active on my terms.

Thank you 💙

[pinofdnp]

all along there was some invisible string tying you to me <3!!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Would geto ever want to be a househusband if there are no curses? Especially pre defection getou, before finding himself a career path, he can just chill and be the doting, caring, loving househusband he’s meant to be 🥺💋💋

OR would he refuse and try to get his own career and job? 💔

HMMMMMMMM ……

this is a hard question anon…… obviously i wanna say yes because househusband!sugu is the loml but. i think suguru really really really wants to provide for you 😭 in every way he can. if he had it his way, he would do the working and the chores….. and you’d just be at home working on your little hobbies and relaxing. that’s what would make him the happiest.

but obviously that’s simply Not Possible so the second best choice in his mind is to balance work and tending to you the best he can…… your relationship would probably be very equal overall but he has a tendency to do most of the cooking and cleaning himself. it gives him peace of mind <3

ANYWAY….. if you brought it up with him, i feel like he would be a little hesitant :’) simply bc he does Not want you working yourself to the bone to provide for the both of you. the only scenario where i can picture him budging is if working on your career and being the breadwinner genuinely makes you happy…. if it’s something you really want to do, then i think he’d be supportive!!!! and more open to being your househusband :3c he’d probably grow to love it a lot. might get a little bored sometimes, just staying at home, but he always finds new things to do. testing out a new recipe, growing a little garden, maybe picking up knitting or another cute little hobby…. just doting on you and making your house feel more like home gives him a deep sense of meaning.

[joelletwo]

[vd: takasugi The Final scenes edited down and put to spring recomposed by max richter]

the happiest moment in cowardly gay sisyphus' life

[endlessfebrvary]

//get yourself one like mine 😍😍😍 @thefvrious//

[woetoy]

Pregnancy stuff does nothing for me but your art is so pretty and i follow to support a good artist. Also i'm an adult who doesn't get weird and whiny about kinks that don't cater to me specifically lmao.

Yeah some weird haters in the air today. We live in a society methinks 😑🚬

[asmeninas]

that episode was so boring to me… is it possible that now when I don’t see alys my brain simply doesn’t know it’s time to engage with the tv��

[necrotic-nephilim]

I’m here to bother you again!!!

You don’t have to if you don’t want to but maybe dark ship bingo with timjay or brudick????

hELLO i love being bothered by you this is delightful omg thank you, i would love to

Here is JayTim, I can't believe I only got one bingo for them. Ironically I genuinely don't view Jason and Tim as family, even when I'm not shipping them, I think they're tentative allies at best and you can only brother-ify them if you're doing very generously OOC fluff, a la WFA-style. They're absolutely toxic and codependent on each other's existence, Tim wouldn't exist without Jason and Jason is Undeniably Weird about Tim, but not brothers so I can't check off the familial squares. Also, I have no idea if I've been blocked by 10+ people, but it'd be funny if I am. And funnily enough, I don't think Tim or Jason are vanilla in any capacity even when they're not fucking. Especially not Tim, that boy is Certified Weird.

and ofc BruDick I nearly blacked out the whole board because they absolutely are weird and unwell. Some of these only apply to certain AUs of BruDick (like an idea I have rattling in my skull rn with Talon!Dick) but most of it applies to them all the time. I really need to write some fucked up BruDick, it's tragic I haven't yet. Right now the two fics I'm working on are a weird JayDick and a more fluffy DamiDick, but I have Plans™ for BruDick too. They are the OG and deserve their flowers for being the most toxic mess you've ever seen.

[willowser]

https://youtu.be/BxAkJmgd504?si=hZbK2b_y_BP_EodK

Willow satoru's yapper baby 🥹 LOL

OMG YOU'RE SOOOOO RIGHT !!! THAT IS THE SATORU YAPPER BABY !!!!

[jrueships]

What are the psychosexual consequences of the twolves dominance right now

mmm.. i have been Chewing on this...

for quite some time .

so this is a thought i have always had tbh. These playoff results so far have just been bolstering my confidence in it.

Ant and Kat's love is loud love.

The Suns love is no love. Not that they dont have any love At All, because they do. But for each other? Im not so sure. The Suns is Men doing it all for the image of finally being champions so they can prove themselves to the people OUTSIDE their team.

The nuggets is domestic love. It's quiet, it's comfortable, it's won a championship, it's retired love. Retired does Not mean dead, it does not mean completely inactive, it means slower moving, at a personal pace, enjoying what you find to be the thing you wouldn't mind dying doing. Jokic and Jamal don't have to say they're in love 24/7 to let us know they're in love. Jokic doesn't have to talk about horses all the time to reporters for reporters to find out how much he actually does from him always going back to visit them. It's quiet, but it's so strong that it doesn't have to be anything but quiet to know

The mavs is a love built on respect. Wordless, they know they can depend on the other no matter what troubles the other may be dealing with or how much is happening, they Know someone will always be there to get the job done. They KNOW it's not a waste, whatever they're doing .

Kat Needs positive reinforcement, reminisces on it, dreams for it, grows restless and angered without it. Gets real self-conscious and starts faking everything to seem like he has everything so people can start treating him like he's not just some everybody in the world, but a SOMEbody in the world, someone whose opinions, thoughts, actions, and.. possibly most importantly.. WORDS will always be remembered as a meaningful contribution to the world.

Ant is a people pleaser. But he's not the meek, 'let your favorite teacher pronounce your name wrong until the grave' people pleaser where it can be pointed out as a problem, he's a Clever one. He's the kind of people pleaser who can step into a room and spotlight the targets that need the most self-value.. all so He can assure his Own self-value, and protect it. Because, ultimately, the phrase 'everybody loves Anthony edwards' is all about Anthony Edwards, which should be obvious, right? The answer's smack dab in front of your face, but the Confidence. The charisma of it all. Covers it. Conceals it just briefly, just enough for him to get away with it. Ant always knows what to say without even thinking twice. He's such a charmer. Except he's not. He's Always thinking, always brewing up the best ways to become a spectacle. Why even video himself saying that slur shit in the first place? Why not just keep that between him and his friend in the car like probably a good chunk other basketball players do ( because let's be honest. These are probably pretty straight men. They hate people like us. )

He can't. That wouldn't give him the best results in the kind of satisfaction he craves, which is all self based, when boiled down. He HAS to not only impress his one friend in the car with his in power teasing of others who don't even have a clue, he has to try and impress Everyone that he's included in his circle, and he just accidentally included the wrong crowd in that.

Ant and kat together are just two self-conscious people who like being together so they don't feel like they're two self-conscious people who like being together. Love can come in multiple forms, but, in my opinion, love oftentimes needs multiple forms to be at its strongest. When you pour all your love into one bucket, it leaves the others hollow. Love can be quiet, and it can be loud, it can be through words, through actions, through the easy times, AND the hard times, it is love.

I like to call Kat and ant the warped jaren and ja bcs unlike jaren and ja where it can all get spoiled from jaren saying something stupid like 'i love you' when they ARE in love and are just uncomfortable saying it, kat and ant NEED to say they're in love so they can feel like they aren't in it. It being Actual love, deep love that requires more than just pretty words and over-the-top compliments and sayings and comparisons and declarations. Actual love like ant going to kat's house and bringing the rest of the team because he knows kat misses having a stable family, hates the fact that something is missing and he'll never get it back.

Actual love like being awkward with each other

Which they Hate. Terribly. The two of them.

So they'll say how much they're in love with the other, how fondly they think about their memories, how they're so close. They'll tease and laugh and try to instruct the other. And the media laps it up, of course. Especially over the quiet love. It's just so boring in comparison.

Love is thrilling, and it is also boring. Like doing menial activities together like watching the news when you two could actually be the ones on it by doing something crazy together, but you don't, and you aren't, because you both agreed it's going to be a cozy day today where you'll both just be a cute pair of couch potatoes on a sofa watching TV together.

Ant and kat CANT be boring. They CANT just sit in that silence together. They have to say something. They have to know the other doesn't consider them a waste of their time because they don't have that same assurance in themselves.

Love is being scared.

Theyre not scared.

They can't Be scared.

Being down by 2 doesn't mean anything besides we'll bounce back. We're not scared about it. I played well, the shots just weren't falling, but i did good. We are doing good. We love each other. We swear.

We're not scared .

(TV loves confidence)

(Love loves fear)

[drainbangle]

wait omg i’m curious about your unpopular thoughts about temenos writing wise.. i love when people discuss octopath writing it’s really enriching to see what we all have to say about certain story elements. plus you’re like a temenos representative to me. your thoughts about temenos make me go “so true!”

Aw, thank you! It took a while for me to decide on what to write here, since honestly I could go on for… frankly any aspect of this guy, especially in regards to treatment in fanon. But for now, I'll focus on my thoughts regarding how people treat tragedy in Temenos' story— namely, Crick's death— and why I personally dislike it as a writing decision and why I disagree with the idea that it is necessary.

Note: Goes without saying, but this is my personal opinion. If you believe otherwise, then that's all good. I'm not writing this to say that any one person is wrong, just to talk about an issue I have with the game's writing itself.

To start, I'll say that my main reason for disliking Crick's death in SH route is a matter of practicality. Killing him off causes Temenos to lose the main person that he had a fantastic relationship and banter with, and in my opinion, Temenos works best when he's bouncing off another person; not unlike most under the Sherlock-archetype.

Also, genuinely? It works wonders to keep Crick alive, if just because it provides a fantastic avenue to explore Temenos' institutional trauma. Having a character that's lived a different experience but within the same harmful institution opens up ways to explore the scope of its harm. And yes, this is for Crick specifically; not Ort, not the travelers, but Crick.

I think it really adds something that Temenos was raised by the church while Crick converted as a teenager during a really difficult time in his life. These two are good for each other. Crick sure as hell makes it a lot easier to write Temenos in fic.

(If you have a different experience, again, that's cool. I'm glad for you. I, however, will never fail to take the easy way out.)

(This is a lie, I'm over here making up fantasy church law for fic stuff but that's not related to this answer.)

I won't pretend that disliking Crick's death is an unpopular opinion. I mean, "Stormhail Fix-it" is an entire genre of fic on the OT2 Ao3 tag. What I do feel tends to go unaddressed though, is the fact that the idea that Crick's death is canon, therefore it is necessary, therefore it is the best decision; an idea that I wholeheartedly disagree with.

Within the text itself, Crick is killed off in order to give Temenos a personal reason to pursue Kaldena, thus putting him at odds with Kaldena's motivations being driven by her ideology and worldview that, "because humans committed the massacre, it was the gods' mistake to put us here". I also won't pretend that Kaldena's writing here isn't fucking awful, because Crick's death is also a device to make the player want Kaldena defeated even though she is just as much as a victim of the church; and that's to say nothing of her portrayal as an indigenous and dark-skinned woman.

These decisions are ones I disagree with. Killing Crick off was unnecessary to give Temenos reason to pursue the culprit, because Temenos already had someone close to him killed; and that's Pontiff Jörg. He raised Temenos from infancy, but due to the lack of focus on him outside of banter conversations, it's never relevant to his motivations outside of the desire for truth because a crime was committed. 

We also didn't need to kill Crick off to show that the church was a terrible institution, because Roi already went missing in action. The Sacred Guard is the main body of law within Eastern Solistia, it's not unreasonable to think that the reason why Temenos dislikes them is because they clearly didn't do shit to investigate his disappearance.

However, one thing I really don't agree with is the idea that Crick's death is necessary because Temenos' story is a tragedy. And if you asked me why, I'd ask this in turn: why is death the only form of tragedy? Furthermore, why must a tragedy contain only tragic events? That in mind, what gives anything value in a tragedy, then?

Pretend we cannot completely rewrite Temenos' story. Even then, changing Crick's death to a permanent injury, a coma, or whatever is still a tragic event; and that's nothing to say of living with the consequences. Isn't losing your faith a tragedy? Isn't losing something you worked for years to do a tragedy?

Similarly, I'd still argue that it's more valuable to make Stormhail a near-death experience because not only does it show Temenos succeeding in making someone question the church but also the terror that is feeling like you're doomed to repeat tragedy. Even if you really aren't, it's hard to dismiss that feeling; especially when it has to do with being victimized by institutions.

And before someone says, "but bad things happen to good people in real life", I'm not treating these characters as living, breathing people who are subject to things like gravity, hunger, and exhaustion. I'm treating them as choices, and choices made that I disagree with. 

It's why I make different choices. I choose to make Crick have to deal with chronic pain onwards. I choose to make Temenos realize change is still possible. I choose to let them both leave Stormhail alive. Are these better choices? I don't know. But I'll never stop questioning the ones made by the writers regardless; much less stop disagreeing with them.

So, in summary: I dislike Crick's death. I dislike Temenos having to spend the rest of the story without someone he can talk to so easily because Crick's absence weakens a lot of his scenes in Temenos 4. But more than that, I dislike the idea that tragedy is necessary on top of the idea that it is superior. Tragedy's good, I adore the genre; but written in mindful doses and all that.