#It’s more like a ‘life and death cannot exist without each other’ thing

[linkons-most-wanted]

My dear, I’ve been stuck in the time lock event + death and rebirth. Strap in for my rambles and get some tinfoil. Also I’m sure some of my little ideas have plot holes or inconsistencies but this is all fun speculation

I think the implications from in game and the way it’s been presented is our general “timeline” is beyond cloudfall, hunger games world, current story setting. If that’s the case, it kinda confirms Sylus did die and later reincarnated (still doesn’t disqualify him being a dragon tho 😩) then they got separated in the deepspace tunnel where things progress into the main story as we know it. In this, Sylus would regain his memories at some point. Perhaps similar to how for our current mc she’s getting it in bits and pieces. (This isn’t even touching on the conceptual eldritch horror? potential of her and what she is and him with energy because WOW my Bloodborne/Elden Ring days see cosmic beings and go “that’s scary shit right there”)

Here’s where I put on my tinfoil hat.

Sylus remembering things while mc doesn’t could very well be attributed to the very notion of energy itself. Regardless of if Sylus has multiple reincarnations or not, he always ends up remembering because energy cannot be created nor destroyed. (Thinking about where he says something akin to “to all your future crimes you’ll commit”, implying he remembers/knows lives beyond this one)

The inherent manipulation of energy makes it impossible for him to not remember as the energy itself holds echoes of the past and the forms it once existed as. While in the new story chapters we see mc witness countless deaths and rebirths ;D she’s the cycle of life and death itself it seems like. Being born, you know nothing. From the moment you exist you are learning. I think about how if you answer the ambition question “it’s like me, always searching for knowledge/truth” (paraphrase).

He remembers and protects her ambition because it’s just something so important to her… periods are hardly the first of her cycles he dealt with LOL “you think periods bother me when you consistently die and get reborn?”

Here’s MORE tinfoil for a hat to put on the hat.

Beyond cloudfall was the start of it all. Two souls defying fate so strongly they become one with the stars and space. In every lifetime, in the universe itself, they will find their way to each other.

Mc had to have a start somewhere and why not at the end of her life as an immensely powerful sorceress (dragon) knowing she was soulbound to her love that she herself cursed into perpetual existence.

So if Sylus always remembers and patiently awaits and follows wherever his soulmate goes, it’s no wonder he’s so secure with the relationship. (Not to mention his near “perfect” status skill wise ;p for his sake we’ll say that he doesn’t remember EVERYTHING, just the important-for-the-story bits.)

He says for him there are no worlds without you in it and he meant it. His patience is infinite because witnessing your brilliant soul persistently want and desire regardless of what life you take is something he craves and loves. It’s why he despises Ever so thoroughly, putting mc into a situation that forces the cycle. They took you and hurt you and ripped away the greatest parts that come with living and growing. The small details he gets to learn about while falling in love all over again are stolen several times over and that’s a debt EVER will never be able to pay in full.

If you’re a comet, shooting across the night sky, he’s the fiery trail you leave in your wake. There is no love purer than his. 🤧😩

Sorry it took me so long to reply, but I wanted to be sure my brain was online!! Because I LOVE THIS 🤩 I am STRAPPED IN

I actually have a different idea about the timeline tho! It's probably just my bias and my meta story brain, but I'd actually put the nebula gladiatorial combat first.

Because then what you get is:

Two astral children, born of universe stuff, created with the express purpose of fighting their peers so only one survives > they defy this fate somehow (we don't know how but maybe it's a teaser for Sylus's new myth this year since his team loves to foreshadow???) > they reincarnate on Philos as dragon/sorceress > this is why they're destined arch-nemeses, because the very nature of their initial existence pits them against each other in an "only one can survive" way > they defy their fate again > sorceress MC dies > adult dragon sylus reassembles and retains his continuity of memory, explaining why these are top-of-mind when he meets her in the N109 Zone

The nebula arena read as really primordial to me (eldtrich cosmic like you said!)--highly connected to MC's true nature as a force that can be reborn and absorb the planetary core of all possible branching timelines. (Which itself actually explicitly represents the power of love in its infinite incarnations and OMG I NEED to write a whole essay on this!!) It's that primordial-ness that makes me put it as the "first" of the lives.

My theory here requires the assumption that Sylus is also a similarly primordial being capable of reincarnation, and though we haven't been told that specifically, it's true of Zayne and Raf and Caleb (Xavier TBD) so I don't think it's a stretch.

Emotionally, the reason I'm drawn to this explanation is that it explains why MC always has an instinct to kill Sylus and steal his power, even/especially at the start of Beyond Cloudfall. Yeah, it can be "Just because", but the idea that the basic nature of their existence is that one of them is meant to kill the other and come out on top just adds a delicious layer to Beyond Cloudfall.

While I think the authors leave themselves options on purpose, the sequence of events from Beyond Cloudfall > space pirate > N109 Zone is so tight that I'll probably assume they're contiguous until proven otherwise (and at that point I'll cling to it in head canon).

All that said, the writers also lean into the cyclical and branching layer of things so I think that any sort of themes or feelings that arise from putting things into different orders are all intended on some level and definitely very valid!

I love the idea that Sylus is more able to access his memories due to his Evol/powers because, you know what they all that in-universe??? Consciousness energy. So I think you're really onto something!!

I totally agree with the idea that him talking about "and all the crimes you'll commit" is a reference to him knowing about the reincarnation, and I think with the teasers we've gotten of the nebula arena, we know for sure they're still going to use the reincarnation angle with Sylus's myths (as opposed to working them all into the same immortal continuity). So I'm really curious to see where they go with that! As much as I want space pirate Sylus, I think we'd have gotten hints that MC was around in those years if a version of her was, but all we know is he was searching for her all that time, so I don't think we'll get space pirate adventures with the two of them. (Thematically it's probably too similar to Beyond Cloudfall anyway, so I am DYING to see what they do with the upcoming myth. I kinda wonder if we'll get young Sylus x young MC, but the Companion would be adult Sylus so the whole myth can't be while they're young. But I'd bet money it's gonna be the gladiator thing still.)

He remembers and protects her ambition because it’s just something so important to her… periods are hardly the first of her cycles he dealt with LOL “you think periods bother me when you consistently die and get reborn?”

This had me CACKLING and yes I totally agree! Regardless of the continuity of his lifetimes (which will probably remain vague) I'm fully bought in that either his Evol and/or his journey through the Deepspace Tunnel has given him more understanding of & access to the multi-life memories than any other character.

The small details he gets to learn about while falling in love all over again are stolen several times over and that’s a debt EVER will never be able to pay in full. If you’re a comet, shooting across the night sky, he’s the fiery trail you leave in your wake. There is no love purer than his. 🤧😩

THROW A BRICK AT ME WHY DON'T YOU (ilu) 💫🥹

The meta part of my brain wants to sit down with the writing teams soooo soooo badly and, like, pick their brains. 🤣 Like, who's in charge of the main story continuity? Why is Sylus's story so much tighter across all the different types of media than the other LIs? Do the other writing teams have that option and they just don't take advantage of it? How do I learn Chinese so I can become best friends with the Sylus writing team because I just KNOW we would get along omg.

Anyway. Bring me ALL the tinfoil hat theories!! I feel like we're gonna have so much to work with after this livestream on Friday!!!!!

[anoddopal]

Those morbid moments when Bun curls up in D.oc Q’s coat and traumadumps to him. ❤️‍🩹

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

[jonnywaistcoat]

What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

[mewguca]

⚠️ ((MASSIVE WATCHER SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING AND ALL OF THE POST-GAME))

Some assorted ramblings about Watcher lorestuff. These are mostly concerning the Second Ending; I might make another post later. shrugs. I don't want to posit these as the "Correct" readings or whatever, just the ones I'm currently fond of. Hopefully you get something out of this.

The Kingdom, a Distorted Reflection of The Void Sea

A Triple Affirmative?

The Prince's "Kingdom" exists as an alternative Solution, a distorted reflection of Ascension, as the title suggests. The language used to describe its glorious vision is strikingly reminiscent of language around the Great Problem:

"Imagine: a single substrate… Life!Throughout all time! Nothing lost. No one lost. A living memory of all life, forever! From bug to god, all as one. None above the other. A TRUE end to the pattern. That is my vision."

– The Prince (Rot Friend!)

I mean, I'm not sure how much more explicitly Prince can state it. Its Kingdom is THE solution, in its eyes. A catalog of all things, living forever, free from the struggles of the Cycle. And this Solution is farther-reaching than any we've ever seen; the (Prince's) Rot Engulfs everything. It does not discriminate between bug and god, between rock and carbon, between microbe and macro-organism. All are welcome in its Kingdom, and that Kingdom is ever-growing.

Of course, I am speaking from a theoretical standpoint here; I am not advocating for the Kingdom as a "true" Solution. I don't believe the Great Problem can ever be solved; it is against the nature of the world. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Regardless, I believe the Kingdom to be untenable.

Certain regions in Watcher cannot be infected, which may suggest this Solution is not as all-encompassing as it seems. But Watcher plays with the fabric of space and time and the realms between the material and the Void, so this may be a moot point. Regardless, I'd rather focus on Philosophy than Practicality.

This "Solution" is Thoroughly Undesirable; we wish to leave the carnal plane of suffering and repetition, not bind ourselves to it forever!

Sure, nothing will be "lost", but who will be there to appreciate the memories of its little amalgamation? The Prince? And what of the ingredients it has ingested? Digested into soup of flesh, where all are one, and all are nothing.

This Solution, naturally, is presented as an alternative to Ascension, a side-stepping of the Great Problem. But I have a slightly different proposition:

The Kingdom is the Antithesis to the Ascension, just like the Rot is the Antithesis to Void Sea.

Ascension Versus Assimilation

The nature of Ascension is vague, but one possible interpretation I find of note is a melding of one's many disparate selves, no longer separated. A fullness of Self, and a fullness of perspective, freed to move on to world beyond the Carnal Plane. Even with more collective interpretations, I do believe each moving part is of equal significance. It is a mural of stained glass; an integration of many pieces arranged to form a greater whole.

Each piece fits together, but each piece is distinct. There is a harmony to this, and no one is above the other. A freedom from the struggles of the carnal plane and the oppression of the Cycle.

In the Kingdom, however, these many pieces eventually blend into an indistinguishable mass, equal by nature of their assimilation, rather than integration.

"Oh, you have brought sundries? You can leave them here if you wish, as a contribution. My processes will dissolve them to their base components and those components will be added to the mass. Nothing to waste, every bit counts!"

– The Prince, when brought an item

Its dialogue does not change based on item. This frustrated me, but in hindsight, I believe it serves to further my point. The details do not matter to the Prince; everything is broken down to its base components and assimilated into the Mass.

A World without Death, but also a Story without Continuation.

Opposing Forces

"As with all great deeds, my work is not without great challenge. It has taken eons and the light fades. The paths close and change. I can almost feel... a will... at odds with my own."

– The Prince

My buddy gandolph said something really insightful about the nature of the Rot we see in the Watcher. They've said it better than I can, so I'll just leave this here:

(this is all inference. just one reading of many)

I find this extremely compelling, and I'm big into the idea of the Rot and the Void Sea acting as opposing forces as well as foils.

"...If you leave a stone on the ground, and come back some time later, it's covered in dust. This happens everywhere, and over several lifetimes of creatures such as you, the ground slowly builds upwards.

So why doesn't the ground collide with the sky? Because far down, under the very very old layers of the earth, the rock is being dissolved or removed. The entity which does this is known as the Void Sea."

– Subterranean Teal Pearl

Rot is an unmitigated growth, often compared to cancerous cells. It is life without termination; a construction with no completion. It builds and builds, grows and grows, assimilates and assimilates...

The Void Sea counteracts this force by dissolving this unmitigated growth and allowing new life to spring forth. To allow for new birth, there must also be space for death. For change.

Where Rot remains, Void moves forward. The Kingdom would keep its inhabited trapped in this world for all eternity, whilst Ascension seeks to ferry them to the next.

Unfortunate Evolution:

Unfortunate Evolution is an interesting segment, and I feel it illustrates this dichotomy between Rot and Void quite deftly. Once you enter, you cannot warp out, giving this a Cinematic sort of feel. I do believe it is meant to parallel the entrance into the Void Sea at the end of the basegame, just... twisted.

The use of zero gravity signifies a relation to Iterator Internals, but I think the drastic shift in movement is a purposeful parallel to swimming in the Void Sea. This movement is harder to control than swimming, though. You can't move very far forward without pushing off a wall or throwing something or otherwise utilizing pre-existing momentum.

You "swim" upwards, in contrast to swimming downwards into the Void Sea

Unfortunate Evolution feels cold and desolate, still and quiet, like a corpse. In contrast, the Void Sea, as liquid, feels brimming with life and movement.

You're teased with a glimpse of the "Rot worm", though it's initially sectioned off from you, rather than a being sharing that same space.

As you venture into the open space, the background is dark and dilapidated. Contrast this with the increase in Light as you venture further into the Void Sea, especially with how many lights you see. Illumination versus Obfuscation.

The biggest difference is perhaps in the results of these meetings.

The Void Worm guides you towards enlightenment, facilitating your journey towards ascension. It interacts with you, bringing you with it, cutting your string, and then it allows you to complete your journey. You swim into the light, ascending, and the game ends.

The Rot Worm, meanwhile, tells you nothing, takes you nowhere, and hardly even seems to acknowledge you. You swim past it and end up at a portal that takes you back to Outer Rim. And then you continue on like nothing ever happened. It's... notably Anti-climactic, at least to me. But I believe that is the point. The Rot Worm (and UE by extension) is only an imitation of the familiar; a fleeting distraction in a much longer journey.

...Or, it was like that for me, at least. Maybe it's not intentional, but I think this reading is very neat. The Prince's Rot has no enlightenment or salvation or even ending to offer you. Just an indiscriminate consumption of all in its wake and the stagnation that follows.

The Conclusion:

Therefore, the Prince's "Enlightenment" is antithetical to its very being. There are many ways to interpret the ending, of course. Perhaps this was a counteraction from the Void Sea, restraining the Prince in its hubris and re-establishing the cycle of death and rebirth. Was this a conscious act, or simply a natural occurrence? I'm unsure. Alternatively, but not mutually exclusive to this reading, is the suggestion that the Prince was "paralyzed from its contradictory existence", as gandolph stated.

The contradiction of the Prince's Self and Ego versus the unification and equality of all life. The contradiction of its pursuit of enlightenment and cataloguing with its mindless desire for consumption and assimilation. The contradiction between their inherited imperative and its implicit nature.

At the Prince's Coronation, its Kingdom crumbles. Karma Flowers engulf its corruption, and so life is born anew. In a way, I suppose its blessed substrate has been achieved, just not in the way it expected. The rot will be consumed, just like the dust before it.

UPDATE: adding these images of Survivor's Ending and Prince's Ending for further comparison.

Side-by-side, you can see the resemblance between the Slugtree and the Throne, though there are also some notable differences:

The Slugtree's trunk is much thicker, making it seem healthy and long-lasting. Throne's "trunk", by contrast, seems sickly and distorted

Slugtree is covered in "leaves" whilst the Throne is (at least by silhouette) barren. Again, the Slugtree appears full of life whilst the Throne is sickly and dying

Slugtree is full of light; Throne's only light is the Karma flowers now growing atop it / consuming it

Also note how the slugtree is full of slugcats that form a greater image together but still exist as their own beings . nothing to add for throne here but it adds to the "Ascension is Integration whilst Kingdom is Assimilation" reading

sorry for poor organization. here are some more thoughts:

A Prince Versus a King

Okay luna this is really cool, but like, isn't the Prince just a datamined name anyways? does it being a 'Prince' instead of a 'King' even matter?

great question guy I made up in my head just now. Everything matters, of course, but here are my thoughts on it being a 'Prince' specifically:

The Prince is likely meant to serve as a foil to Spinning Top (Echo Friend), as the Prince is a nascent consciousness, and ST is a child. Naming it 'Prince' strengthens this connection.

The Prince is not a child, however. Children learn and grow. Children eventually become adults, and they move on. We see this with Spinning Top. As we accompany on them on their journey throughout space-time, we prompt the self-reflection necessary to process their memories and accept the next chapter in their life. (There's a whole post I could write about ST and their insight into Echoes, but that's for another time.) By its very nature, the Prince can never move on. It does not have Self reflection, because Self is all it can ever truly know. All it learns is assimilated into the mass. Like I said, its attempts at enlightenment are contradicted by its nature as Rot. Hence, they serve as foils.

The term 'Prince' may suggest an attempt at humility, which is deeply ironic, but understandable. Prince proselytizes about its world of equality, but inherently this cannot be, because it has placed itself at the top of everything, implicitly, by assuming its way is best for everyone. A Kingdom needs its ruler, and Prince has graciously accepted such a role.

I think my favorite reading, however, is that the Prince is simply yet to succeed its Throne. That there is some point it hasn't reached, something still left to achieve. Perhaps once its Kingdom's construction has completed?

The Ending, then, serves as its "Coronation." A crown of Karma flowers for the freshly-appointed King. An Elegy to Ignorance.

------------

EDIT: also want to make a nuance disclaimer that rot in General is not inherently the same as Prince Rot / Kingdom specifically yay . and im just a little guy make sure to read lots of different posts 🙏👍

there's also much to be said about the Throne and the Rot and the Brain Trees and etc but someone else can do that much better than me. And also another disclaimer that this reading may become outdated with future updates yay. happy watching everyone

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere Themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, controlling behavior, manipulation, isolation, death

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz @jamayah @hyakki-yosai @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59

Little sister is like Janet from The Good Place

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛​It is rather unusual for demons of the same lineage to be so attached to each other. However, to not be disgraced by you there was little choice Sebastian saw himself having. Your entire existence goes against everything his kind should stand for so to help you find your way back to the roots of your existence, Sebastian has taken it upon himself to take you under his wings. His plans to teach you the ways of a demon fail terribly though for you are a being so friendly and willing to help that it is uncanny. For all the powers that you hold it is nothing short of a waste for you to use it all only to help others. To make things only worse you have no morales nor limits as you help anyone you have a contract with. The quality of their souls is of no importance to you, only the willingness to help counts. No matter how disgraced you are by your masters or how terribly someone takes advantage of you, you keep your cheerful and friendly demeanor. Do you intend to shame your own kin and blood? Sebastian has seen himself forced more than once to kill off your clients to spare him and you only more shame. He is hoping for anger from your side yet instead he is met with the same friendliness.

🐈‍⬛​You cannot protect yourself from others despite being a demon so your older brother eventually takes that role. Sebastian starts to keep you close and isolated for you would jump at a chance to help someone even if it were to commit a crime. Your entire existence is better to be kept a secret for otherwise you would only give and give without taking. He wonders how the very essence of your being can be so different as a demon is supposed to take and satisfy their own desires. Even Ciel innitially doesn't know of your existence as Sebastian keeps it a secret from him. Only much later does the young Earl figure out that Sebastian has a sister though only with great doubt. After all Sebastian and you are like the sun and the moon. You couldn't be more different. Interactions are kept short though as Sebastian wouldn't want his young master to even consider taking advantage of you. The subtle threats he allows to slip out when Ciel remotely hints at wanting you on his side tell as much. Who knows, maybe Sebastian will one day make a contract with you himself to ensure that throughout eternity no one shall ever take advantage of your kindness. After all a contract binds.

Ash Landers

▫️What terrible twist of fate it is for Ash to be torn away from his little sister. As he is banished down to the realm of the sinners and the mortals you stay in heaven, serving the souls of the good people. None of them deserve your kindness though. For Ash you have always symbolised the perfect version of a being. Kind, warm and without a single flaw. Yet you are being tarnished by the greed of everyone, used for their own selfish purposes yet you are too helpful to reject their pleas and prayers. Nothing could have his heart weeping more. You deserve more than what you receive yet you don't know better. After all your entire life you have served people and fulfilled them their wishes, have been lied to. Everyone deceives you yet as your older brother it is his heavenly duty to protect you from all the evil and harm that comes your way. Heaven may have separated him from you yet that shall never blind him from his duties handed to him the moment you appeared in this world as his younger sister. Even whilst he is forced to mingle with the vermin on earth he shall show you his devotion and remind you that he will never forget you. No amount of distance can ever change that.

▫️He shall set the city of London on flames for you and pray that you will see the fire even up there on the clouds. He shall erase all those souls who would only cling to you like leeches once they ascend to the sky for none of them deserve to be there where you are. During his time on earth he wants humans to know you and to respect you so through the Queen as his puppet he starts a new religion featuring you. Churches and shrines are build in your name and image yet only few of them stand the testament of his perfectionistic gaze. If something isn't perfect it is undeserving of carrying your name. Do you see it all even whilst both of you are separated from each other? Do you see how tirelessly he works to create a place worthy of you? The distance between the two of you always pains him yet there are moments where the agony is especially prominent. Hasn't he already failed as an older brother already? After all siblings should stick together yet here he is, unable to reach you. From his place on earth he is unable to protect you from all the greedy and selfish people who lie to your face and use you for their own schemes. He may never be able to make this up to you once both of you are reunited as family.

Claude Faustus

🕷️​Claude has never had any intentions of taking you in. In fact he was unaware that he even had a younger sister from the same parents yet one day you are given to him. Your entire existence is a shame for your kin and no one wants to take you in and teach you the ways of the demons. So either you are going to be killed or Claude will do the job as he is from the same blood as you. There is no thrill he can find in his heart yet the shame of being associated with someone weak like you fuels his decision to take you in. You cannot die and taint his reputation forever amongst others of his kind. It is this mix of frustration and annoyance that leads him to be very harsh and cold to you. Cruelty is perhaps the method he chooses to raise you with yet it doesn't quite work as he has hoped it would. Your behavior stays the same. It almost disgusts him to see a demon from his bloodline to be so kind and willing to help. You offer your services to anyone without demanding everything in return and it has his skin crawling. You will not embarrass him so Claude never allows you to have a contract. Even if you were to make one your master wouldn't last long, murdered by Claude's hands.

🕷️​The extreme isolation you are put through comes to no surprise as Claude eventually labels you as unable to survive on your own. Demons are lonely creatures by nature unless they find their true mate so it is rare for a pair of siblings to stick together. What other choice does he have though? You would only ruin his own name if he were to let you go and his attachment plays another crucial role. You would simply not survive out there without him. More than once he uses condescending or very belittling words to coax you into listening to him and doing as he says. Never have you taken it as an insult though as if incapable of feeling angry or sad at all. Alois is never going to find out about you as he would most likely only bully you and abuse you like the other butlers in the household. If that were to happen Claude would consider his contract with the young master done as he would never allow anyone to lay a single finger on his younger sister. He doesn't often show his bond to you though as he sees it as very needed to be the composed and cold brother to cancel out your own warmth and kindness. He is a proper demon after all, territorial first before anything else.

Chrollo Lucilfer

📖​From the youngest age on Chrollo has always been forced to protect you. Even before both of you learned how to use Nen and received your special abilities your kindness made you an easy target in Meteor City. You are a lamb under a flock of wolves who are always waiting to sink their teeth into your innocent being. The only thing sparing you from those experiences is Chrollo who has always been a shield to protect you. He is indeed a true older brother and that identity that comes with it has always given him a sense of order in a life where his existence has been unwanted from the moment he was a toddler. Some of hid oldest friends who are now also part of the Phantom Troupe have viewed you at times as nothing but a burden back in those days. Survival of the fittest is after all a concept that is all too true in Meteor City and it is clear that without Chrollo's protection your light would be snuffed out quickly in a place filled with outcasts and violence. Yet Chrollo has never thought once about abandoning you. After all you are all that he has and vice versa. Family should stick together and he will not allow one of his cherished people to be left behind to be torn apart.

📖​Your Nen ability is one of the strongest and most treasured in the entire Phantom Troupe. Yet just like your entire existence to the world outside it is shrouded and speculations and mysteries.To the troupe as well as to Chrollo you are the personification of a treasure that is priceless and for that would never be given away. Over the years everyone has formed a bond with you. Hardly surprising as you have never been allowed to bond with anyone outside of Chrollo's members. You are far too willing to spill out all the secrets and offer all of the help. It has gotten so bad that Chrollo is in fact actively searching for Nen abilities to restrict you with it all. Perhaps a part of him has even considered stealing your Nen to make it all easier and he knows that you would all too willingly let him do so if he were to ask. Hisoka is the only member of the troupe that is kept away from you though you approach him willingly to offer any help as he is the newest member. You are th easiest way to get under Chrollo's skin and that is why you are a beloved and popular target, only resulting in more isolation as a result. Perhaps it would really be easier to just steal your powers for you are too naive to wield them.

Alucard

🩸​Alucard has gone through great loss over the span of his very long life. He has lost everything. His people. His nation. His wife. His child. His faith. And perhaps worst of all, he has also lost parts of himself as he traded his humanity for the monster he now is and will forever be. That should make it at least a bit more understandable to why he is as protective and possessive of you as he is. After all after centuries of being all by himself and with nothing left to lose, there is something to be lost once more as the vampite gets attached to you. You are a weak spot of his, something that Alucard himself fully acknowledges. Yet strangely enough he cannot find it within himself to hate you for it. He has almost forgotten what it feels like to care for someone as much as he cares for you and with that returns a part of the humanity that he thought he had lost so many ages and empires ago. It is quite fascinationt though, wouldn't you agree? That a creature as feared as he is is chained to a fragile appearing thing like you all because for the first time he discovers once more what it feels like to have a family. Feelings are binding and that more efficiently than a contract through blood.

🩸​As someone who has lived for as long as Alucard has though, he also knows that people of your kind rarely survive in a world as unforgiving as this one. Though the time of great wars may not be upon you for the coming years, wolves lurk around everywhere. Kindness is unfortunately a trait that will always be taken advantage off. People will step on you and use you for their own gains and purposes and he worries that you will simply let it happen all because you have more kindness in you than anyone else. So to protect you from the monsters who would lay their greedy claws on you Alucard is always waiting in the shadows, observes every interaction you have and frightens those who believe that you could be nothing but a tool for their own satisfaction. He himself never takes much advantage of you and refuses all the help that you always offer him as most of the time your assistance would do more harm than good as he fights bloody battles and murders those who stand in Integra's way. Sometimes he wonders though if you are a salvation that the god he thought he abandoned so long ago sent his way to bring him back some of the lost humanity he sacrificed in the past.

Alexander Anderson

✝️​Anderson is a man drowning in his own belief of God, a servant so dedicated that he engages in violence all to fulfill the greater mission handed to him as a priest and Catholic. In spite of all that insanity brought to light due to his intense devotion he is still capable of attachment and care as seen by the orphans he has taken under his wings. You are no ordinary child though and you are no simple human either. You have never been even from earliest childhood days. Alexander and you couldn't be more different though as you don't engage in battle to kill all those who could pose a threat to the god you believe in. No, instead you have chosen a different path to express your faith by extending kindness and help to all those around you. A concept that on paper should be admirable as you love everyone and forgive all sins yet none of that brings Alexander much pride. In his eyes there is a clear divide amongst people as he condems those who are no Catholics to the point where he would let them die. So obsessed is he with the word of God. His kindness has limits whilst yours doesn't as you extend a friendly hand even to the enemy. A great betrayal in his eyes.

✝️​Yet you have been blessed with powers from God, received a divine gift that has made you the most vauable member of the religious organisation. No one would dare to even suggest killing you for what they view as betrayal. No one has the courage to do so either as Alexander is your older brother. Not by blood but by bond as he has been guided to find you when both of you were only children and you still without your gift yet already with your friendliness. The greed of people who only serve their own greed and not the word of God have always threatened to devour you even back then and not much has changed even as years have passed. That is why you are confined to the building of Ferdinant Lukes, the orphanage founded by Alexander. There you are placed just right, also taking care of the many children brought to the establishment and raising them. You are kept away from any activities of the Iscariot Agency as your assistance would only be a distraction for you would offer even the most hideous of monsters your hand and a redemption where none should be given. No, your abilities must remain a secret for otherwise all kinds of things would come after you.

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾​It is surprising as it is that Sukuna has formed any kind of meaningful bond to begin with that doesn't end in a bloodbath. The ugly truth is that this bond didn't start the way that it is in the present. No, instead it is your unique Cursed Energy and your ability that comes with it that draws Sukuna to seek you out. After all his greed knows no bounds and the ability to create everything that someone could possibly desire is something many people would love to get their hands on. To their greatest misfortune Sukuna has already planned to make you his possession so any fools who get too close to reach you are mercilessly slaughtered by him. A part of him expects any level of fear or fright as those are emotions he is so used to see on people's faces. Yet the only thing that he receives is a disgusting smile and the polite question of why he is here and what he needs your help with. You possess a level of friendliness that is almost unnerving yet Sukuna finds himself enjoying the sinister aspect to it all. After all your willingness to even help him in spite of knowing his true goals clearly shows a lack of morality. You could be interesting after all.

🗾​Sukuna takes some sort of sick pleasure in it as time passes and he notices over and over again how you seem to be utterly incapable of any form of negative emotions. It makes you easy to use and easy to manipulate. The only downsight to it all is that the concept of loyalty is vague as you offer everyone your assistance that asks you of it. That is why you are locked away like a little bird and the only person he trusts with supervising you without abusing your power is Uraume. All of the finest riches and material treasures that adorn his body or that are in his possession are all your creations as a life of luxury is guaranteed with you by his side. Even though you show it in unique ways, in Sukuna's eyes you are still a proper curse with terrifying abilities. After all there is nothing that binds you to others as you discard bonds easily all because you have to help anyone who asks you of it. The only bond that you have and that you seem to value is with Sukuna for he is your brother and that has made him somewhat cocky. It is enjoyable after all, watching how people tear each other apart to have you only to be ultimately be killed by him. After all you are his little sister. His responsibility.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​The Gojo clan is a highly respected clan already and the birth of Satoru has only manifested the power associated with them. Being born as his younger sibling without any of the abilities that he has inherited, you are treated vastly different though. Gojo is pushed to be a weapon, to be on top, to be lonely. You experience your own loneliness but for a different reason. Stuck in the shadow of your older brother, constantly compared to the lonely genius who learns so fast and masters everything without even needing a teacher whilst you struggle with simple cursed techniques. Both of you lead unfair lives but for different reasons. Yet Satoru isn't like the rest of the clan as he takes you in and looks out for you where others would have simply ignored your average existance. Both of you only have each other after all so he decides that both of you should stick together. Through his efforts and questionable teaching methods you eventually unlock your own special ability. An immediate game changer a suddenly everyone wants to be your friend or wants to spend time with you. Satoru is against it yet you only reciprocate, mercilessly taken advantage of by the system.

🩵​Satoru has his hands even fuller from that day on as he needs to ensure that the world of the sorcerers experiences no threats whilst also seeing it through that no one from the higher-ups nor any other person can get too close to you and only use you. It is frustrating and borderline painful to see you behaving so obedient to every request that you receive as you have no will of your own. It hurts, especially since he expects you to trust him more as your older brother yet none of his words reach you as you immediately offer everything the moment someone asks you for it. The fear that both of you might be pitted against each other might be dismissed as paranoia by others. To Satoru the world isn't that nice though, especially not the world that both of you live in. Rumors and speculations are something that he can hardly contain yet information about the true extent of your abilities is generally kept a secret. It is your sheer willingness and the vulnerability that comes with it that has Satoru locking you permanently away with all sorts of special seals to keep others out. If only you wouldn't agree with him so easily then perhaps all of this would be less shameful for him. Your obedience is painful.

Geto Suguru

🗻​Sometimes Geto wonders if he would have killed you on that day just like he did his own parents if it wouldn't have been for the fact that you too are a sorcerer. A question that weights heavily on his mind at times when he observes you yet ultimately the reality is that you are no filthy monkey but a sorcerer with a very powerful ability. That is all that should count and the thought that always has him dropping this question. Suguru may be the leader of this entire movement and the person that everyone respects but your own powers are valued highly by everyone. Suguru would like to think that your abilities are worth even more than his own leadership as you are the key to create a world for only sorcerers. Yet it is most regrettable that your own kindness isn't quite as selective as his own is. In fact you are overflowing with friendliness and the will to help to the point where you offer your help to anyone. Whether it be an enemy of his or even one of the many filthy monkeys, you always approach everyone with that same smile and openness. Some of his own people secretly call you a traitor, words that Suguru denies. What he can't deny though is that your goals do not align with his own.

🗻​He is your older brother. You should trust in his choices and listen to him above anyone else. Obviously you do not think the same though as you ignore his every advice and warning and continue going out of your way. You even expose your powers to non-sorcerers and always force his hand to kill those individuals as they not only dared to get lose to you but also to keep them from spreading the news about your powers. Suguru is attempting every day to indoctrinate you with the same ideas that he and the entire cult centered around him follow yet none of his words reach you. You are blind. That is why eventually you are forbidden to step outside the shrine and are kept locked away in a small room like a precious artifact that shall only be taken outside when the time to wield it has arrived. What other choice really is there? You would betray not only your own kind but also him, your older brother, if someone were to ask you for anything that is meant to stand in his way and that knowledge drives Suguru almost mad. The resentment is ever-present with his brotherly love from that day on as he is never able to forget that you would take the hand of someone else if asked.

Nanami Kento

💛​Nanami is most familiar with the way that society works. Money talks and money rules. That is all that there is to life and even though he loathes the thought, he knows that he is only a small part in the great mechanism of it all. He would like to walk away at times but unfortunately he is a good person and for that his compassion always drives him back to a place where he will protect people from the horror of curses. It seems to be an inherited trait if one were to look at you, his younger sister. Only that with you this trait has blown out of propotions. Even as a small child you have always been too kind for your own good and Nanami cannot count the times where you were taken advantage of on both of his hands. It has always been him who had to step up or else you would have just continued pouring all of your energy into someone who would have lost likely never thanked you for it and would have only taken it for granted. The role of the older brother weights heavily upon him and it is through all those years that he has developed a naturally overprotective demeanor when it involves you. The world of the sorcerers is after all even less forgiving.

💛​Especially once you train your Cursed Energy and gain a very special ability does Kento view himself forced to step up even more. Years of attempting to teach you to set boundaries and think logically and not with whatever heart motivates you to keep on giving, you are still none the wiser. What can he do though? He holds no special power like Gojo does not could he simply turn his back on the system and abduct you like Geto has done. No, Kento is just one of many sorcerer and for that nothing valuable. The only option that he is left with is protecting you to the best of his abilities. You have obtained the highest rank of a sorcerer possible but less because you have fought for it tirelessly and more because your Cursed Technique is just that valuable to their world. That puts only more distance between the two of you that he has to overcome somehow. He could simply ask you for more Cursed Energy and power yet Kento refuses to be put in the same position as everyone else who wants more power, more money and more wealth from you. He is dangerously close to breaking though. Whether his sanity gives up first or his body will be seen in time.

[earthstellar]

One thing that I really liked in IDW 2 was the concept of Going Immersant.

Given the immensely long average lifespan of Cybertronians, it makes sense:

If nothing kills you, and you live long enough to have experienced all of what you feel you reasonably can in this lifetime, and you feel content with the life that you have had, and it seems time to retire--

--Why not return your knowledge and the entity of your self to the core of your planet, where your energy and your components can be reused and your memories and knowledge can be subsumed into the greater whole?

Plug in with the stray cables that stick out of the cavernous expanses deep beneath the surface of Cybertron, let yourself get situated, and allow yourself to daydream as the crystals grow around you and gradually consume you. It is not painful. It is a process of sharing.

Each daydream then enters the great memory bank of Primus, at the heart of the world, the core of life itself for your species. Your experiences become part of the eternal record of experienced Cybertronian life. You join your God himself, frame and processor, as you combine with him within the physical form of your planet.

Primus created you, and as you are subsumed into the crystalline forms that surround you, you will go on to sustain Primus in some way. An unending cycle.

Perhaps you feel something, leeching up from deep within the crystal mass, some unique energy meeting you halfway, the cables that snake their way into your ports like vines carrying some ancient data, older than yourself, older than the Rust Sea, older than the Hydrax Plateau, older than the Titans.

Maybe you cannot decipher it, yet. But it comforts you. It reminds you that you are not alone, after your visitors have gone. Where there is digital noise, there is something to produce it. You will meet it soon--

--After countless years of a peaceful rest, knowing that at the end of your endlessly long existence, your life will go on to benefit others.

And for as long as you are able, you still remain present, as well. Just not above, on the surface. For some time, others can still come and visit, speak with you, consult with you-- Although as your memory banks purge into the greater whole, you begin to falter in this waking realm.

And that is OK; To rejoin with Primus and re-enter the Well of All Sparks as an ancient elder, a repository of experience and wisdom, is to become a teacher to all. Even in peaceful, gradual death-- And even then, your energy and materials and thoughts remain somewhere, deep within the planet.

Returned. Recycled.

Eternal, in some shape or form.

It's just a really beautiful concept.

Without any natural death, Cybertronians have the option to simply return to Primus, return to the core of the planet, in a half-waking state.

At peace, gracefully and with intent.

All of what they have experienced and all that they are, all of their memories and feelings, all of the metals and compounds that make up their frame and armour and protoform, all of it can be taken in and absorbed.

The option is there, to emerge once more.

But for most, this is the final calling.

To go immersant is to enter peace, to become a living state of meditation until the very end for you as an individual. To have full agency over how you pass on, to make the decision and consciously know. To be happy with that. To relax into your fate, as you see fit.

To make the decision to be recycled, to contribute all that you are, to return your energy to the crystalline matter that fuels your world and your people and your God, who in turn fuelled you and will thus go on to fuel all those subsequently churned out by the Well.

To merge with your living planet on an atomic level, on an esoteric level.

I wonder if the fully immersant aren't dead in the traditional sense. Perhaps they are offline, to those in this world. Perhaps their frame is vacated as their data is absorbed. But that data is not lost, necessarily.

It's just a very beautiful end of life option for Cybertronians, and I do hope the concept is revisited in some form in the future.

[burningcheese-merchant]

How on earthbread do you ship BurningCheese. Im gonna try to not judge you. This is 80% a non-rethorical question. like genuinely how do you ship them?? /lh

I was wondering when someone would come ask me this lol. It's ok though, you can be honest, I can feel you narrowing your eyes at me through the screen 👀

I could honestly go on for a REALLY long time about why I ship BurningCheese/GoldenSpice. But I'll try to distill/narrow down my thoughts the best I can so my answer isn't longer than the Bible

I adore the enemies to lovers trope and hero/villain pairings in general. I did long before Cookie Run and I will long afterwards

I like how they complement and contrast against each other, aesthetically + personality-wise + backstory-wise

I love how they interact with each other. I love how they talk and snipe at each other. Golden Cheese's frustrated yet unyielding confidence and wit VS Burning Spice's brash, raucous excitement is fun to see. (The back-and-forth they have during their fight in episode 6 is dangerously close to how I've written them in my fics, even before the episode came out. So technically, in a way, my fics have been canonized lol)

It's fun imagining them together in different ways. A one-sided crush/obsession on Burning Spice's part is fun in a dark way (my Yandere Spice). So is a mutual love and respect between them. Main canon for me is a slow burn romance and a slow redemption arc for Spice alongside it. I also have an AU where Golden corrupts and becomes a Beast herself, and they become an evil villain couple. I have another where Spice doesn't get better and Golden doesn't get worse, they just have the standard forbidden love affair that they hide from the world (the latter out of fear of judgement, the former just so no one can try to keep them apart). I've got a million story ideas with them. You can do all sorts of things with them imo. And I think it works because of how they bounce off of each other. Put them in different situations and see how their relationship changes/adjusts/adapts, see if love can exist and how

I like their size difference. Spice is significantly taller and wider than Golden and it's really funny to see lol

The way they and their relationship/dynamic parallel actual Egyptian and Indian mythology (the latter in particular) is absolutely unreal

Not kidding, I can go on about the symbolism and allusions and references forever. I could write an actual paper on it. How can a ship go THIS hard

Come on, don't act like they wouldn't give each other a fantastic time in bed lmao

They follow each other around in my kingdom almost 24/7. Literally every single time I log in they're next to each other or one is trailing behind the other while they walk somewhere. If they want to be together that badly, I'm not going to stop them

They are literally the cycle of life and death, they have the single most important connection of all the Beasts and Ancients, one simply cannot go on without the other for together they make up the foundation of the goddamn cosmos

It actually all started with me and someone irl joking about Burning Spice having a stalker crush when the very first trailer came out. Then I went "haha that could be a funny fic". Then I wrote it and went "wait this is an interesting idea". Then episode 5 came out and I went "wait wtf does he actually want her??? He's acting like he does in my fic!!!" Then I wrote more and got even more attached to the one-sided attraction dynamic. Then I started imagining them in an actual, normal relationship and how that might pan out. Then I started writing stuff for/about that and I got extremely attached to that. Now they have a fully fleshed out relationship and they're married and have two kids, and I have a billion side stories and AUs, and any other ship involving either of them viscerally repulses me. I unironically memed too close to the sun and immediately fell straight down into BurningCheese hell (but it's ok, I like it here and I don't plan on leaving ever)

I can and I want to and no one can stop me

I still wrote a Bible, didn't I lol. BurningCheese/GoldenSpice is perfect in every way, they are my ride-or-die and you can pry the ship from my cold, dead hands. The end, roll credits

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

OF ALL THE WAYS TO DIE.

PAIRING — hades!bucky barnes x human f!reader

CONTENTS — oneshot; alternate universe—ambiguous time period; inspired by greek mythology; inspired by the book thief; bittersweet ending; life and death; major character death; angst; fluff.

SUMMARY — A sparkling river you are forbidden to cross. An old wooden boat you are forbidden to ride. A mysterious man you can already feel you are forbidden to love. You do it all anyway.

WORD COUNT — 4.2k

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

ACT I: A River Enchanted

It is a fact that all things die eventually. Ah, please do not fret. You are the ones who haunt Death, after all.

Fortunately for you, it is very rarely the other way around.

I heard her before I saw her.

With each careful and almost hesitant step, her growing shadow slowly hid me from the warm late-summer sun.

And as I opened my eyes, my thoughts weren't that she was beautiful.

As I began to know her, they weren't that she was uncommonly lovely.

As I grew to love her, they weren't that she was somehow exactly how I imagined, the human I was destined to love singularly, a destiny shown to me by the Fates even though it was against the rules.

(But what care do the damned have for the rules, anyway?)

My thoughts were that she would die one day.

It's the world's natural order. It's the reason I exist. For thousands of years now, I have been charged to sit in judgment of what makes humans... well, human.

You are punished. You are rewarded. Either banished to darkness or bathed in light. And those decisions fall on my shoulders.

Even her, one day, no matter how hard I wished to prolong the inevitable.

Those are the thoughts that make me want to die sometimes.

But, in defiance of all the laws of nature, I cannot.

“Who are you?” You ask, clutching the straps of the straw-woven basket you wear on your back. 

He lies in the tall grass, parallel to a mysterious river. He has the fingers of his right hand closed around the stems of a few delicate white and purple flowers, looking like he’d been taking a nap. 

Or, rather, a little bit like your parents had right before they were lowered into the ground. 

Confused, you tilt your head slightly as you stare at him. The river, the boat floating atop its peaceful waters, and the flowers were not here when you came yesterday. 

Still, he doesn’t answer your question. He merely raises his free arm to fold it behind his head, closing his eyes once more and seemingly returning to sleep. 

Despite his dark robes, he seems to glow in the light of the yellow sun. You have a hard time believing he is even of this world. 

“Do you make a habit of watching people sleep?” He muses without opening his eyes. 

This time, it is your turn to ignore him. You turn on your heels, stepping back towards the edge of the clearing to check on the herbs and flowers growing there. You pluck a few plants from the dirt and toss them over your shoulder into your basket. 

He doesn’t speak but neither do you, even though you’ve got a sneaking suspicion that he’s not actually asleep. 

Your parents’ deaths had left you orphaned but not necessarily alone. The other villagers look out for you whenever they can, no matter how difficult times may be in this area, and everyone is always kind. 

Sometimes, however, kindness can be stifling. 

You smile to pretend like you aren’t lonely, like your cheeks aren’t stained with tears at night, like you don’t mind that it feels as though your life will never be quite as full now that your family has gone. 

This is your secret spot, where you go to let the sounds of nature, the songbirds’ sharp symphonies, just take away all the thoughts that steal the sleep from your grasp at night. 

It happens so gradually that it’s almost as if the clouds are passing over the sun. You are slowly engulfed in the darkness of a tall shadow and when you look up, he is looming over you, peering down into your basket. 

You didn’t even hear him get up. 

“Tea?” He asks, referring to the calendula flowers and mint leaves you’ve picked. You look away, cheeks warming, feeling oddly self-conscious all of a sudden as you nod your response wordlessly. 

He bends down, his face hovering right over your shoulder, and reaches out a hand to point at a nearby shrub of red fruit. “Try the rose hips.” 

You can see him out of the corner of your eye. He turns his head slightly to look at you, to make sure you’re paying attention. You don’t look back at him, but you follow his lead, wrapping your fingers around one of the fruit, squeezing a little to check for firmness. 

You pluck it from the bushes. You inspect it carefully, free hand already reaching for another. Even though you haven’t spoken, he can smell the berries in the air around you. 

“They make a nice jam, too.” 

You frown. His voice sounds impossibly far away. When you turn to look at him over your shoulder, you find yourself alone in the clearing with only the softly howling wind for company. 

The river and flowers are gone, and so is he. 

Like he had never been there at all. 

ACT II: A God’s Whimsy

Even if I couldn’t show her the colour of my own heart, I tried to tell her many times she was loved. 

The proof was in the pain she lived.

The resilience of the human spirit never ceases to astound me.

Somehow, there is still happiness to be found in the most terrible of sufferings. 

No matter what the Fates foresee, even though you are walking on a road of broken glass, you soldier on. Walking. Grasping. Hoping. 

You all shine so bright, like the sun and like the stars. It hurts my eyes, your golden-coloured hearts. 

And yet I am incapable of turning away. 

Did I ever shine the same way?

I mean, back when I was human like you? 

They call me a god now, but you are the ones I envy. 

But after that day, you start seeing him quite often whenever you venture into these parts. He’s always doing the same thing, napping among a field of apparently imaginary flowers. The same old wooden boat is docked at the riverbank, always unmoving and silent. 

You haven’t told anyone about him, lest they warn you against consorting with strange men. Lest they think you’ve lost your mind in the grief. 

Also, a part of you wonders if he himself is imaginary, too. But rather than being scared, you like the idea that he exists only in your mind. That, even for a brief moment, something out there is just yours. 

It takes a few more encounters before he reluctantly tells you his name. 

“What kind of name is Bucky?” You ask impulsively. You wince. You don’t mean it the way it sounds. 

He tells you more out of annoyance than anything else; you had been quite incessant. Still are, you suppose. It’s been a long time since anyone’s really given you the time of day, after all. 

You are eager for acknowledgement. 

“Well, that’s rude.” He says, but he doesn’t look very offended. In fact, he never looks anything at all. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t look very sorry.” And then he leans closer to examine your features, as if he’s genuinely curious, as if he’s not the one who often wears an indecipherable mask. 

Your basket full of aromatic herbs and fragrant flowers sits abandoned at the edge of the clearing. The vibrant red rose hips sit on the very top of your loot, having made its way into your regular rotation after that first day. 

He is once again lying in the grass. These days, though, you sit much closer to him. 

“Why is the river only here when you are?” You ask, despite knowing how utterly stupid it sounds. 

“Don’t be silly,” he says in that tone of voice that used to frustrate you, like he knows so much more than he will ever tell you. “How can an entire river just disappear?” 

The tone doesn’t bother you much anymore. You’re used to it now and there is a strange comfort in that. It’s been a long time since you’ve known anyone long enough to get used to anything. 

“It does, though.” You reach out a hand to skim your fingers along the water’s surface, but he is suddenly closing around your wrist. He is such an enigma; he often moves without being seen or heard. 

“Be careful, will you?” He warns before letting you go. “Don’t touch it.” 

“Why not?” But he fails to elaborate. In a moment of frustration, you turn and pull a handful of grass from the earth to throw it at him. It simply falls harmlessly over his face. 

“The sun is setting. You should go home.” 

“I don’t want to.” You cringe after you say it, hating the way it makes you sound like a spoiled child. 

“Why not?” It seems you both take turns asking each other questions that go unanswered, because you turn away from him and keep your lips pressed together. 

Sometimes, his brows furrow in mild irritation while you speak, but you have a feeling it’s not because he dislikes it when you do. In fact, it seems to unsettle him when you fall silent. You have a feeling he can practically see all the grey and dreary thoughts swirling around in your head. 

“Will you walk with me?” You ask hopefully, although you don’t look away from the river. Are you hoping that maybe, if the other villagers saw you with a friend, they would stop looking at you with such pity and sadness? 

“I can’t,” he responds. For a moment you might think he sounds almost regretful. “I have to leave.” 

“Where do you live?” You call him your friend, although never out loud and only to yourself in the safety of your own mind, but you don’t know much about him. In fact, it dawns on you that you know nothing at all. 

“Somewhere you cannot go, I’m afraid.” 

“Wha—” Your face warms. “I didn’t want to, anyway!” You retort stubborn, turning around to face him. He’s sitting up in the grass now, staring back at you with eyes you can never quite interpret. “Honestly, Bucky, what a way to speak to a lady.” 

Sometimes, you think he might be making fun of you. Sometimes, there’s a twinkle in his eyes, despite the inscrutable look on his face. You think you might see the subtle signs of a smile, but it’s either gone before you can even properly catch it or it’s so faint you’re always tricked into thinking you’ve imagined it. 

But you think you see hints of it now, that elusive smile of his. You’d like very much to know how it might look on him. Do the corners of his eyes crinkle when he does? How would those unworldly eyes of his sparkle if you, of all people, could ever make him laugh? Would the sound of his laughter rival the musical notes of summer? 

“My. What was I thinking, indeed,” he says, his voice laced with humour even though his features remain impassive. “I do apologize, m’lady.” 

Your cheeks heat up to the point where you’re sure even the sun is no match. You stand abruptly, turning on your heels to retrieve your basket, heart hammering so loudly you are certain he can hear it. You struggle with the desire to run away, to run toward him, all at the same time. 

“I’m going home,” you announce, almost as if you need the push. Some verbal encouragement. “Try not to take it too hard if I get carried off by coyotes or something.” 

“You’ll be fine.” It sounds like he’s smiling. You try not to look too eager as you toss one last look at him over your shoulder. Even though you hadn’t heard him move, he is already in that boat and halfway across the river. 

Even so, you hear him still, as if his voice travels with the wind. 

“What a silly girl you are.” 

ACT III: Of All the Ways to Die

You blame me for all the beauty that leaves your world, for the reason your love has nowhere left to go. I promise not to take this personally.

You are correct, after all.

Because a very long time ago, I was a soldier. 

A very long time ago, they changed me. 

A very long time ago, the Underworld was full of anguished souls only because I sent them there with my own two hands. 

The story goes that my brother tricked me, so that he could rule the skies while I languished in the land of the dead. 

But the truth is, he tried to stop me. The god who was once known as Steve is still, after all these years, incapable of such wicked conspiracy, after all. 

The truth is, I volunteered. 

Because even before I became what I am now, death followed me wherever I went. 

Who better to sympathize with the dearly departed than the Winter Soldier? The one responsible for so much slaughter and so much destruction? 

And unfortunately for me, the Lord of the Dead must keep his heart.

So many years and so many souls. I remember every single one.

Would you believe me when I say that all of them cross the River in my arms? 

I made a vow to carry you all.

And because the first time she died, I blamed myself too.

The next time you go to your secret meeting place, something strange happens: the river is there but he isn’t. 

You stand at the edge of the riverbank, peering into the eerily still crystal clear waters. You look past your own reflection, seeing right down to the bottom. There are no fish, there are no plants, there are zero signs of life. 

He isn’t here this time to remind you not to touch it. The sun beams relentlessly down on you, making the water look all the more enticing. The hidden cicadas in the nearby trees seem to spur you on, their hums growing louder and louder and louder as you reach out your hand. 

The moment your fingertips dip into the water, something hauls you forward. You don’t even have the time to scream before you fall in with a splash, breath stolen from your lungs, eyes closing out of reflex. 

Your clothes, now heavy with water, weigh you down despite how hard you kick your legs against the current, one that had been invisible to the eye while you were on the surface. 

You open your eyes and it’s chaos. 

It’s calamity. 

A ghostly-looking woman has her bony fingers around your wrist. Her mouth is open in a silent scream, but you hear it anyhow over the rush of the waves. Ghoulish. Terrible. Echoing. 

You try to pull yourself from her grip, but she seems determined to drag you down with her—to where, you still aren’t sure. You look around, the previously clear river now murky with creatures you can’t quite name. 

They look just like you. Like they are human. But something tells you they are not. At least, not anymore. 

More hands claw at you, your head now full of thoughts and voices that aren’t your own. You struggle, but all you do is take in more water, your lungs burning for air. 

Let me out! I beg of you! I repent! I confess my sins!

Let this girl take my place!

A soul for a soul.

Everything slows. Your eyelids grow heavy. 

How is it possible to drown in a river that doesn’t exist? Will you ever be found? Will Bucky ever show up in the field of flowers and wonder where you are? Will he ever miss you? 

Lord Hades! Please have mercy! Won’t you please have mercy?!

A hand reaches into the water. Your eyes close. 

The world goes dark. 

ACT IV: We All Mourn the Dead

Funny how I am feared by most in existence, yet she, as small and as fleeting as she was, struck fear in my own heart.

Thoughts like, what if she discovers who I really am?

I have been invisible to you humans for so long. What if she doesn’t like what she sees? 

I wondered, as she sat next to me in that field of green so many times, when the time for her to see up close and personal what it is I do, will she loathe me a little less or a little more? 

“I don’t loathe you,” she would say on the day of her judgment. 

But you see, she had once, in the name of her parents. 

You all do, in the name of those you love. 

I am tasked to see your kind at your best and at your worst, but you must rest assured that it is never one or the other. Somehow, every last one of you always manages to be both.

Strange how it is only after I lost my own humanity that I find myself understanding the delicate paradoxes of life a little better. 

Ugly and beautiful. Good and evil. Frightening and comforting. 

I wonder if that brings you any comfort. It does to me.

I sent her to the field of swaying flowers, where she is allowed to watch the golden sun lower below the horizon for the rest of time—where there is no pain, no sorrow, no time, and no longing.

No, those shall always be my burdens to bear. 

For her now, there is only beauty and tenderness. Peace.

It is the same place I had sent her parents. They may not remember each other there, but at least they are together again.

When hers was the soul I looked into, while I saw all the same flaws and imperfections of her fellow man, I couldn’t help but think that all of it was good. 

I have searched and searched, but never again found another soul quite like hers. 

And then I am reminded that this is what it means to love. 

When you come to, you feel yourself lying on something hard, unlike the soft patch of grass you’re used to. Squinting against the bright rays of the sun, you raise your hand to block them out. 

Someone moves to do it for you. 

Upon recognizing the face looming above you, eyes the colour of the cloudless sky, you try to speak but you sputter and choke, coughing up more water. 

“Silly girl,” he hisses, sounding angry and desperate. When your vision comes back into focus, his eyes are blazing. He scolds you like one would an unruly child. “You’ve been told not to touch the water. What were you trying to do?” 

You prop yourself up on your elbow, looking around to see that you’re in the boat. His boat. His hand is on your back, fingers spread, warm to the touch even though the material of your dress. But even so, you can’t stop shivering. 

He is missing an arm. 

Your friend glares into the previously disturbed waters, the fingers of his remaining hand tightening over the edge of the boat. 

This is why the ferryman normally responsible for this vessel warns him that their kind should never cross the River for such arbitrary reasons. It is why those who live in the realm of the dead must stay there. 

By now, he should know that humans are curious by nature. 

They are unable to let the mysterious go unexplained. 

They seek knowledge. 

They crave love. 

And it seems that the Lord of the Underworld has grown curious himself. A curiosity that almost cost an innocent human her life long before her time. Such an event would have greatly upset the balance of the universe, not to mention the Fates themselves. 

He shudders. He loathes to think what they might do to him if they knew, if they haven’t found out already.

“What happened?” You ask, hand ghosting over where his left arm used to be. 

The souls sentenced to an eternal drowning in the River refused to return you without a price, to be paid by the one who put them there. How devious. 

A fee must be paid, after all, when crossing the River Styx. He supposes it has been rather hypocritical of him to have done otherwise all this time. 

Very well. 

He steeled himself before reaching into the water, unflinching when they took his arm, his eyes focused solely on you. At the very least, they stayed true to their word. 

They passed you along until you were floating towards the surface, the moment you came close enough he curled his other arm around you to pull you free. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

It was not a difficult decision to make. 

Besides, it was not the first time he had ever lost an arm. 

“It was not your time.” He brushes a lock of still-wet hair from your face, his fingers tracing invisible lines against your cheek. 

And yet you are on the wrong side of the River. 

On this side, the flowers still grow, the trees are still vibrant with coloured leaves, and the waters are still motionless. But somehow, everything is different. 

Because while the sun still glows just above the horizon, there is no warmth. There are no sounds. No singing birds. No buzzing cicadas. No chirping crickets. Here, everything is dead silent. 

Or perhaps just dead. 

Except for you. 

“Who are you, really?” You ask, everything absolutely still as you sit up. The River has gone back to being strangely tranquil, not even a ripple or a single wave to be seen or heard. The things you had just seen in there are once more invisible to your human eyes. 

“How strange. You humans really do enjoy asking questions you already know the answer to.” His eyes soften, his remaining arm still wrapped around you as he pulls you forward, allowing you to seek warmth against his chest. 

Your first impression of him was right after all. He is not of this world, never has been. 

They called him Lord Hades. 

The guardian of souls. Ruler of the Underworld. 

You already know, but you pull away to look at him and say, “Tell me.” 

“I’ve caught quite the daring little water nymph, haven’t I?” You suppose it is daring for a mere mortal like yourself to demand the name of a god. 

But you aren’t imagining it this time. There is a tiny hint of a smile there, one corner of his lips curving up ever so slightly, so faint that it is barely noticeable. 

You notice. 

“I’m not dead yet, then?” You ask. The Underworld isn’t quite like you imagined. It is much more beautiful than the myths and bedtime stories had told. 

“No. Shall I congratulate you on being the first still-living being to step foot into the land of the dead?” He knows he shouldn’t, but he steps out of the boat and extends his hand towards you. “Come and walk with me.” 

You comply. For hands so small, it seems you hold the entire world in your palms. He clutches them in his one larger one, his whispering breath caressing your forehead, your cheeks, and your lips, as he assures you the loss of one limb is nothing. 

He wipes your river of tears away. He replaces them with streams of gentle kisses, his lips plush and soft against your skin. 

He assures you it is nothing compared to how long he must wait to see you again. He knows he must never reveal the River to you anymore, not until your time has come. It is what he must do to protect you, to protect all of you. 

After today, he won’t see you again for a while. A human life is normally but a blink of an eye for him, but this time, he already knows time will pass slowly. 

And even when he does see you again, the reunion shall not last long. 

When the time for separation has come, he takes you back across the water. He drops you off at the embankment, pulls out a flower from inside the folds of his robes and tucks it behind your ear. 

He tells you to look away as he leaves you. He tells you not to look back. Of course, you listen. 

The portal between worlds close. 

His arm wasn’t the price for crossing the river. He returns to the Underworld missing his heart.

This is the beginning of what will feel like an endless longing.

This is the price he pays for crossing the river. 

For loving a human. For loving you.

THE FINAL ACT: A Field of Swaying Flowers

Is it terrible of me to say that, the second time she died, I breathed a sigh of relief? 

When it is time for me to collect her, she did what no one else does upon seeing me. 

She smiled and welcomed me with open arms.

While I had her in my embrace, the journey across the River seemed to take a little longer. 

Perhaps it was because I had willed it to. Or, even likelier, perhaps Styx took pity on me. 

Her soft cheek rested against mine. “Please, don’t forget me.” 

I held her tighter, forcing out a joke from behind a rapidly closing throat. “Forget you? When you’re the reason I only have one arm?” 

She still laughed, the silly girl. 

I should have just told her. 

Did you know? Millions of souls, and yet I remember all of you. 

But I am sorry. It is the duty of a god, especially one in my position, to love all humans the same. 

I truly must apologize. 

She is no longer here, but it seems that I love one most of all.

fin.

© 2024 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[sometimes-prompts]

105 RP Starter quotes from The Locked Tomb!

"Life is too short and love is too long."

"Go loud."

"What an entirely haunted time to be alive."

"Love and freedom don’t coexist."

"Well, I tried, and therefore no one should criticize me."

"The truth is, we're all just a bunch of weirdos trying to figure out how to exist in this bizarre universe."

"Strike me down. You’ve won."

 "I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand."

"You are my only friend. I am undone without you."

“Death first to vultures and scavengers.”

"It’s finished, it’s done. You can’t take loved away."

"What can I say? I love a little gall on gall."

"Things are, frankly, going to be antonyms of fine."

"If you do not find yourself a galaxy, it is not so bad to find yourself a star."

 “You got the face of a rat and the body of a dead person.”

"Ghosts and You Die is my middle name!”

“Anyone can learn to fight. Hardly anyone learns to think.”

“You skull faced fruitcake.”

“I might lie down and see if this fixes itself.”

“Once you’ve stepped in, you’re in. This isn’t Hokey Pokey.”

“There’s no skeleton like the home skeleton, you know? I have so many happy memories there.”

“We do bones motherfucker!”

“Genuinely sad, bordering on very funny.”

“Life’s a bitch.”

“Cows watch sunsets.”

“Cows exhibit mourning behaviors for other cows.”

“Cows have best friends and complex social relationships.”

“This is a cult.”

“Chickenshits don’t get beer.”

"NOW isn't the TIME! You DUMB, HILARIOUS BITCH!"

"When I am in heaven I will remember your mouth, and when you roast down in hell I think you will remember mine."

"Stop wearing that pillowcase any time you like.."

"Why, your fist is so big and my asshole is so tiny."

"All I ever wanted you to do was eat me!"

"I can’t keep my promise, because the entire point of me is you."

“I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it.”

“We were children – playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water... Thinking it was space.”

“I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.”

“I’m boobs and hair and talk and a hell of a sword hand.”

“I ate peanuts, discreetly, the once.”

"The cold death to anyone who looks at me in pity; the heat death to anyone who looks to me in amusement; the quick death to anyone who looks at me in fear."

“Your heart is a party for five thousand nails."

“Someday I’ll die and get buried in the ground and you can take it up with me then."

"Bury me next to you in that unmarked grave."

"We knew that was the only hope we ever had–that we would live to see it through."

"Oh, we’ll still hate each other, my dear, we have hated each other too long and too passionately to stop."

"My bones will rest easy next to your bones."

“Why was I born so attractive?”

“Then we’re all dead, [name], but let’s bring hell first!"

“You were so afraid anyone might touch you. You had always been afraid of anyone touching you, and had not known your longing flinch was so obvious to those who tried it.”

"You hating me always meant more than anyone else in this hot and stupid universe loving me. At least I’d had your full attention."

“I didn’t think this was the time for dirty talk, but I can roll with it-”

“We had something very nearly perfect... the perfect friendship, the perfect love. I cannot imagine reaching the end of this life and having any regrets, so long as I had been allowed to experience being your[s].”

"That’s not a defence force, that’s a cop and six different kinds of nerd."

“Please elaborate opened up, because my imagination is better than your description and I am not having a lot of fun here.”

“I understand you didn’t ask on purpose, but I like to think that there was a grain in your soul that saw yourself in need, and perhaps thought to itself, I wish I had Abigail Pent.”

“I came prepared, my sweet.”

“What are you even saying half the time –.”

“Alas. I have a bad personality and a stupefying deficit of attention.”

“See, I did make a utopia.”

"Then perish."

“Oh, this is boring, I wanted one with a skull puking another, smaller skull, and other skulls flying all around. But tasteful, you know?”

“Why are you not appeased? That is how meat loves meat.”

“Yes, well, jail for Mother.”

“I’d aim to get out of here alive, but our odds don’t look wonderful. If we stay put, we get squashed, or eaten. If we swim, we probably still get squashed or eaten.”

“I need you to hide my infirmity. You see, I am insane.”

“I have lots of fealty in me. I fealt the Emperor with every bone in my body. I fealt hard.”

“Ask me how I am and I’ll scream.”

“I see you calling my bluff and I resent it,”

"Don’t give yourself away. Do you know, it’s not worth it... none of this is worth it, at all."

"Remember this, and don’t let anyone do it to you ever again."

"I’m sorry. We take so much. I’m so sorry."

“If you want to wallow in your shockingly vast reserves of self-pity, cut your throat and save me the food bill.”

“As I’ve been told tiresomely often, a half-cocked version of something is significantly worse than not being cocked at all.”

"Your tolerance for man-eating magma fish would have been tested sorely by anyone who was not God."

"But nobody listened to us. Nobody investigated the things we told them to investigate."

"I gave you my whole life and you didn't even want it!"

"Suffer and learn."

"It was good. We were happy."

“If I forget you, let my right hand be forgotten.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll keep the home fires burning.”

"I know you're there" he rasped. "Kill me all you like. I would know you in the blindness of my eyes... in the deafness of my ears..."

"I just want to know the truth... after all this time."

“You have rendered yourself unlovable.”

"I am nothing, I am pointless, I am unmanned."

"I will accept your chidings gratefully. I will watch you slay whomsoever you feel the need to slay, and I will sponge the blood from your brow … but when I lay me down to sleep, I am a fully grown man who is allowed to feel precisely what I want, about anything I want."

"I am sorry for everything … I am sorry for what they did …"

" I was weak because weakness is easy, and because rebuff is hard."

"I should have offered help."

"I merely want to put you in a jail, and fill up the jail with acid-"

"Staaahp being so fucking dramahhhtic!"

“You’ve got two short minutes before I punch you in right in the butthole.”

"Follow me. We haven’t got much time"

“Delicious num-nums for baby.”

"I have bested my father."

"Did you see me? Did you behold me, [name]?"

"Thank God I had a pencil in my pocket; I’m in the process of crafting the sequel on a section of wallpaper."

"I’ve felt heaps better since I got here. I’ve coughed a few times, but it’s mainly for show."

"Which is, coincidentally, what your mother said to me last night."

"You know it was killing me twice that you weren’t there, right?"

“Get in line, thou big slut.”

"How are we to understand 'potato'?"

"Should we hold hands in girlish solidarity?"

"Old people should be shot."

"I completely fucking hate you, because you are a hideous witch from hell. No offence."

(Btw, read the books, you will obsess over them.)

[chericherilvr]

I'm supposed to be sleeping right now, but I can't stop thinking about jungsu😞

he's just so cute and I wanna cuddle him so bad. I also keep thinking about when he said that he cannot sleep without hugging something (which I can very much relate to)

i wanted to ask if you could maybe write something fluffy about cuddling him or falling asleep with him? 🫶

Lucky to be loved - Jungsu x reader

summary: Jungsu can't sleep without hugging something—or that one time he found someone to sleep with. w/c: 626 warnings: fluffy, I go on my existential cute rants, reader likes to think (used I and you pronouns for that part to symbolize you and Jungsu, but overall it's in second POV) I don't think I cursed… but there's the usage of death as a metaphor of the love experience (it's cute I promise) overall FLUFF a/n: took me a while to be able to write but hope you enjoy it!!

The night shall come once the sun is down. It's the only way we even have the concept of time. The pattern realisation that, things change, the sky doesn't stay the same way. I wonder who first looked at the sky and saw the sun fade away. I wonder if the first time, the moon was full—or if the emptiness of it left them surrounded by darkness, scared of it. Who first realised that it happened each day? Who choose the word to talk about it with their peers? Who was the first person to have a night routine and, how did it look?

I sometimes get scared of the concept of day and night. Now that I talk with people around the world, it amazes me how they can still see the sun—while the moon looks scared to be seen in my sky.

All the stars that we see are dead. Did you know that? The light reflecting from the beautiful masses of light can be so far away that, by the time we get to see them, they don't exist any more. Time in the universe works so funnily; if seen from far enough, you could still see dinosaurs walking on earth.

So when I stare up at the sky, in search of connection, hoping someone is looking back at it—day or night—wishing for the same: I stare at all the dead stars and bask in their corpse; I bask in their light. I've never felt as comforted by something like by the stars. They still shine even when they are gone. They are still present even though far. Like a good memory from long ago—it might not exist any more, but it still lingers and warps its arms around me.

In all honesty, the comfort the universe gives me could never be matched. We're truly just in a floating dead rock following mass, that is following mass, that is following mass. It's so dead it's alive. It's so meaningless, all of it, that moments like this gain meaning. Without you, there's still life. But I am so lucky to be loved by you, I am so lucky we decided to give meaning to each other.

"You're being all philosophical again," Jungsu groans rolling in your arms to face you.

"How did you even know? I thought you were asleep by now."

He keeps quiet closing his eyes and stretching his arms out behind you with a sigh.

"Never let me be small spoon again," he says shaking his head.

Jungsu's arms fold carefully around your body, tension melting away. His lips curl into a smile—the kind you can't force yourself to do. He rubs your back for a while and, when he is satisfied, he straddles his leg over your waist and hugs you closer.

"So no to small spoon, but yes to choking me to death?" Your voice gets lost in between Jungsu's hair, who moved his face to be buried on your neck.

"You love it," he kisses your skin softly.

"You know, the first time you asked me to sleep with you, I thought you meant something completely different…"

Jungsu let's out some incoherent complaints. And by the time you try to ask him what he said, he was already out.

The day shall come once the moon is down. But lord was it the worst time of the day. Morning meant movement, and the only movement I want is to be here. Oh, to be drowned by your touch, by your comfort. I sometimes wish for death; to lay in your arms forever, like this, may we be so close we melt into one being. Thus, this world might hold no meaning, but here, I am a worthy being.

[mpreg-is-always-possible]

Better

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x gn!reader

Tags: Angst, divorce, losing a child, graveyard, reference to child neglect, reference to canon typical violence, grief

Notes: so I’m very new to this fandom and haven’t actually read the comics yet but I’ve been reading a lot of fanfics and couldn’t get this out of my head. Also I tried to keep reader gender neutral but I did write and edit this in the middle of the night on my phone so please let me know if a rouge pronoun that isn’t ’you’ made its way in. Thanks for reading and please enjoy!

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Falling in love with Bruce had been foolish. Marrying him was an act of down right insanity. You knew it would end one way or another but you had deluded yourself into believing your husband’s crusade couldn’t come at the expense of Jason’s life. Gotham needs Batman and Batman needs Robin. But why did Robin need to be the boys you had come to see as sons?

Or a one shot of the events leading up to your and Bruce’s divorce after Jason Todd’s death

Officially, you and Bruce had divorced only six months ago. Truly though, your relationship had ended nearly three years ago when Bruce came home without Jason. His Robin went off to do the one thing Batman wouldn’t, and the next thing you know your son is in the ground.

The grief was all consuming. You fell to your knees when Bruce told you. Alfred said the scream you let out would haunt him for the rest of his life but the memory of it was lost to you. Those early days after Jason’s death are blurry still. The only tangible feeling being the heavy hole Jason left behind in your chest.

You’re not sure where Bruce went after that. He grew so distant the only time you saw him was to discuss funeral arrangements. After the funeral you don’t really see your husband for the next month. When asked, Alfred informed you Bruce was staying in the cave believing you needed space. Alfred had clearly disapproved of that but Bruce was right. She did need space from him, from Batman.

It’s not a point of pride that you grew to hate him in the early months after. Thoughts of revealing his extra curricular activity plagued you. As much as Gotham needs Batman, Bruce needs Batman too. He needs to protect his city and build towards a future where his parents' deaths wouldn’t ever be repeated. But how could that future exist when Batman won’t even kill Joker? How could it exist without Jason?

The idea is tempting but you never act on it. Revealing Batman’s identity wouldn’t only endanger you but Alfred and Dick as well. You couldn’t stand losing them too. Dick decided to come back to Gotham for a while after the funeral, just to be there for you and Bruce. Bruce tried to send him back to Bludhaven but you had put your foot down. “We just buried one son and now you want to push another way,” you had yelled at him, his face as stony as ever. He acquiesced.

Dick and Alfred tried to get the two of you to talk to each other. Dick would often try to essentially parent trap you and Bruce in various rooms around the manor, inviting both to watch a movie or asking for help with something but not tell you that he’d asked you both. By the second week Alfred refused to bring Bruce’s food down to the cave, forcing him to eat with you. By the end of the month the two just threw out the cot in the cave and Bruce took a bed in a guest room. Their efforts made it seem like Bruce was imposing his absence on you, and maybe he was but there was no comfort to be found in his company, not anymore.

Their antics went on for another month after that until you sat them down and told them to stop. They had for a few days. When Alfred “mistakenly” served Bruce’s food upstairs one night, you cornered him afterwards to tell him you were considering leaving Bruce. “I cannot fault you but he’s the closest I have to a son and I’m afraid another upset would cause him to spiral more. It’s too much to ask but can you please stay until the grief isn’t so raw.”

That’s when you noticed Bruce had bruises and cuts in places he was normally careful to keep clear of thug’s fists and knives. Dick told you he was fighting so much harder; The criminals had started to whisper fears of the bat starting to kill soon. You didn’t think he would go that far, and Dick agreed but he could tell his father wasn’t far off.

So your marriage continued. You woke up alone, went about your day, had dinner with Bruce before he left for patrol, then went to bed. Galas and various other functions for Wayne Enterprises or Bruce's charity events were the only time you two truly acted like there wasn’t this vast distance between you. Most of the time it made your skin crawl to act like things were fine, but occasionally you could pretend - Jason wasn’t dead, he was just trying to find where the servers smoked to join them. Then someone would offer condolences and the facade would break.

It was around this time when you began to visit Jason’s grave. It had been too painful to see it before. The words ‘Jason Todd: Beloved son and brother’ etched in stone had followed you into nightmares for months. But you needed to get out of the house and Jason had spent too long without a visit from you. At first, they were short somewhat sporadic outings - tiptoeing in about once every other week to leave flowers, often leaving them next to a bouquet or two some else had already gifted. After a while, you warmed up to a quick hello and some highlights from the week before, then had graduated to speaking at the tombstone for hours about life after him every week. It was cathartic and maybe a little sad but those one sided conversations became the one place you could talk about the complexity of your family’s situation without having to sugar coat it or be reminded of how staying was helpful to Batman.

For two years this went on and Batman’s anger didn’t cool. Bruce still came home with black eyes, bleeding knuckles, and the occasional gunshot. The hate in your belly for him had dulled considerably to the point where you had begun to patch his wounds up again out of respect for the love you once had. You might be angry with him but you didn’t want him to get himself killed.

When the neighbor boy, Tim Drake, had knocked on your door, you couldn’t have guessed that he came to express his worry for Batman, for Bruce. You and Alfred listened as he waxed poetic about how Gotham needs Batman but Batman needs Robin. The hole in your chest that had since grown less noticeable ached because he was right and it made you want to spit. As Alfred excused himself to get the Robin uniform for the boy, you grasped his thin shoulders and looked into his face, colored in righteous determination.

“The last Robin was murdered, Tim.”

“I know Jason died, but -“

“Bruce will try to push you away. Don’t let him.”

Watching Tim run out the door in the red and green suit made your stomach turn. It wasn’t what you wanted but you had never had a say in that side of your husband's life. The two of you thought more with your heart than with your head when you decided to get married, but you weren’t so love drunk to think that the marriage wasn’t nearly guaranteed to fail. You even expected it to end because of his crusade. You just wished it didn’t come at the expense of your son.

It was foolish to think this new Robin wouldn't worm his way into your heart just as the two before did and maybe it was selfish but you couldn’t do it again. There was no way Bruce could just stop, but you didn’t need to stand by his side while he did it. It was a miracle that only Jason had died.

Despite your efforts to keep Tim at arms length, he was a sweet kid and it was impossible to ignore him. Plus you knew his parents weren’t paying nearly enough attention to him so he needed someone looking out for Tim and not just Robin.

Bruce had been better at keeping the boy out. He let Dick do most of Tim’s training and really only spoke to him about vigilante things. But the armor slowly but surely cracked. It didn’t escape you or Alfred when Bruce began to request foods that you knew Tim liked or when he had Alfred set up a guest room that was meant for Tim to use when needed. A year in and Bruce had long stopped coming home from patrol with careless injuries.

You knew it was coming. You anticipated everyday that Bruce would come home from patrol and tell you Tim had accepted the mantle. When it actually happened though, it still sent ice through your veins.

“Tim’s passed every test Dick and I have given him. I offered him Robin and he said yes.”

“I knew he would.”

“I don’t want him to be.”

“I know.” A moment passed and then you said “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“I know.”

The divorce was quick. Neither of you wanted anything from the other. Bruce offered alimony but you refused. You kept your job after getting married but you never touched your salary, leaving you with a nice nest egg to start your new life with. Alfred and Dick were sad but they understood. They knew you sacrificed a lot to stay with Bruce even before Jason died, but after you gave more than you had.

Tim didn't really know what your marriage looked like before but he took on its demise all the same. Your heart broke when Bruce told you Tim had tried to give Robin back in an attempt to make Bruce reconcile with you.

“Tim, if I had it my way none of you would be going out every night fighting thugs and criminal masterminds but you were right; Gotham needs Batman and Batman needs Robin. Unfortunately, it’s become too much for me but Bruce won’t stop. He can’t but he needs someone like you there to make him remember himself.”

Tim just nodded his head and went back to the manor.

Dick and Tim visited you at your small apartment in Gotham as often as they could. Though between Dicks commute from Bludhaven, Tim still being in school, and both of their budding vigilante careers, they didn’t have much time to visit. Occasionally, they’d stop by during patrol for a rest or some first aid. Mainly you kept in touch with phone calls and texts.

You never really saw Alfred anymore, unless it was when he opened the door for Tim after dropping him off at him from school or some outing. He does call occasionally, just to say hi and chat. It’s nice, not feeling completely cut off from your old life.

It was surprising how unchanged your relationship with Bruce was after you left. It probably shouldn’t have been - your marriage was one in name alone and had been for awhile. Still, realizing your conversations only revolved around if Dick or Tim needed anything made it clear just how true it was that divorced life with him wasn’t far off from your married one. He never did make an effort to really speak with you after things went to hell but then again neither did you.

When you finally signed the divorce papers, it felt like you could breathe for the first time in years. No more sticking around because you were afraid leaving would push him over the edge. But the hole in your chest still plagued you, and it most certainly would forever. The divorce wasn’t what was best. What would have been best would be Jason being alive and Batman not needing to put your kids in danger constantly. But Jason was and Batman did. So the divorce is better.

[antennas-to-heaven]

ramble on haibara and nanami's dynamic

i feel like people don't talk about their dynamic enough but like. i love how you can retrace nanamis grief for haibara in so many of his good actions, be it taking yuji in, mentoring ino, his general protection of the youth...it all stems from the trauma of haibara's death, and the fact he sees haibara in yuji makes it all the more harrowing. he is basically lead by the grief and guilt and his caring disposition is his way of "saving" haibara, his own blue spring.

in fact, in the colored page for chapter 100, haibara is seen putting cherry blossoms on nanami's weapon bag thingy. in japan, cherry blossom flowers not only represent beauty, but also the fleeting nature of life, which applies to haibara, who died when he was just a teenager, when his life was just beginning, but you can also say that with the beauty part of the flower's meaning, you can deduct that haibara was the most beautiful person nanami knew, in every single way possible.

haibara's existence, to nanami, was beautiful, yet so short lived. this is more of a personal thing, but they also have that icarus/sun dynamic; nanami's grief for haibara is so strong, the guilt from his death is what pushed him away from jujutsu society but later on back into it, cause nanami being a sorcerer and helping innocent people would have been what haibara would've wanted, right? of course, this indirectly leads him to his death in shibuya. and the first person whom nanami sees, on the bring of death, is haibara. even when he's near death, he sinks into the comforting and sunny presence of his beloved sunshine.

nanami loved haibara so much it led to his death. his love for haibara indirectly killed him. and yet, haibara's last "appearance" is so off; there's many speculations on why, be it that nanami's memory is failing him, or that the last time he saw haibara was when he was cold and dead in the morgue, but there's also a personal favourite of mine; it's a metaphor for how nanami's grief has tainted his memory of haibara. the haibara nanami remembered never really existed, he was tainted by guilt, grief and hatred and nanami clenched onto that memory so hard it bent and broke in the end. in the end, grief and guilt taints everything, especially the memory of your beloved best friend. and yet, this presence is so oddly comforting to him. his last smile, in a way, was because of haibara.

haibara was nanami's sun. his blue spring. his whole world. his other half. they complete each other, metaphorically and literally - haibara loses his lower body, nanami loses his upper body. his ideals were a reconciliation between his own and haibara's. without haibara, nanami became a drone, both for capitalism and for jujutsu society. he cannot function without his other half. they complete each other, but one half was ripped so briskly from the other that it staggered the other half for life. nanami built walls around him all his life because of haibara's death. the death of the only person who saw sides of him nobody else had ever seen. nanami had lost his sun, and his world went dark until they met again in death. in fact, nanami says haibara made his last moments more enjoyable.

even in death, nanami falls into the radiant, solar comfort of haibara. the one person who brightened up his dark world. his sun to his dark side of the moon.

[silvermoon424]

Eternal Erina

Left by @chommission, right by @linyu3u

An anon innocently asked me to talk about my OC Erina's final form, Eternal Erina. Unfortunately, it's impossible to actually explain her deal without also explaining the story of my story/paracosm. Which is, uh, LONG AND COMPLICATED.

For anyone who doesn't want to read the massive incoming infodump, the main plot of my story/paracosm revolves around Erina and her journey from a frightened, troubled child into the savior of her people (mages, aka magical girls and magical boys). That involves becoming a goddess, a concept, and a universal force. So like Ultimate Madoka, basically. If the design didn’t tip you off, my story is HEAVILY inspired by PMMM, lol. 

The details are hidden under this Read More. If you end up reading it, I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts!!

Order and Chaos

So basically, magic and life (especially sapient life) is governed by the Rule of Cycles, a mostly benevolent being/law of nature. It is opposed by Chaos, who governs black/chaos magic but cannot create true life, only shadows of itself or People of the Cycle that have been corrupted. Chaos hates RoC because it's envious of RoC's creativity and ability to create life, not to mention that Chaos used to be a part of RoC at the beginning of the universe and wants to once again be one with everything. 

Mages have existed for billions of years, all across the universe. Where there is sapient life, there is magic. Mages are born when they resonate with the Rule of Cycles and are granted a wish/miracle. But if they fall into despair or fail to replenish their magic they will become Wraiths, beings of Chaos (again, like magical girls and Witches from PMMM).

Also, if you couldn't tell by the names, the Rule of Cycles and Chaos are basically Order vs Chaos personified. This is inspired by the Stars arc of Sailor Moon and the ultimate villain Chaos.

Also, RoC and Chaos can't fight directly without damaging the fabric of the universe and/or causing mass destruction, so they manipulate beings and create proxies to fight a proxy war. Erina, my main OC, is the RoC's chosen champion and can tap into it directly. Chaos doesn't have a champion (yet) and mostly just sends out powerful extensions of itself, although it does also have corrupted People of the Cycle at its beck and call.

Also, in my paracosm, the RoC was created by an even greater being that created the multiverse who's since basically fucked off and doesn't intervene at all. Soon after the creation of the universe, billions of years ago, Chaos split off from the RoC and they've opposed each other ever since.

The Philosophy of the Cycle and Unnecessary Suffering

However, even though the Rule of Cycles and Chaos are opposed, they are inextricably bound together. Just like as the darkness needs the light to create shadows, the light also needs the darkness to shine more brightly. 

In other words, without evil, we couldn’t truly comprehend good. Without sorrow in the world, there would be no compassion. If we never lost anything, we would never truly appreciate what we have. And so on. The Philosophy of the Cycle- the path that mages spend years walking- is making peace with the fact that sorrow/evil/suffering will not only always exist, but is in fact vital to the very foundation of the universe. 

With all that said, even though suffering and sorrow are inevitable, we must try to diminish it in any way we can. Making peace with the foundations of the universe does not mean totally accepting it the way it is and sitting by passively while bad things happen. Because not all suffering-or even most suffering, one could argue- is inevitable. A lot of suffering is due to unjust systems, systems that need to be torn down and replaced with something better. 

You know, unjust systems like the current mage system.

In my story, being a mage isn’t an immediate death sentence like in PMMM; many mages go on to live full adult lives. However, the death/corruption rate is still around 1/3 to 1/2 of all mages. So even if you don’t succumb to Chaos yourself, you are essentially guaranteed to know and love someone who will or already has.  

I haven’t sat down and figured out how the mage-Wraith system came about; all I know is that it wasn’t always there and is the result of  tampering. It’s been in place so long that there are only a scant few records talking about the before times, but there is evidence it didn’t always exist.

Also, Wraiths aren’t the only Chaos Beings around; mages also fight Demons. Unlike Wraiths, they are mere extensions and creations of Chaos and did not used to be sapient. There are enough Demons around to support the mage population’s need for purification, once again proving that Wraiths are unnecessary and cruel.  

 Some cycles need to be broken. Enter Daenerys.

The Oracle

Daenerys aka Dany (yes, named after that Daenerys!) comes from a noble family of oracles who once reigned as the monarchs of a country of mages before it was destroyed. Dany is the most talented far-seer ever born and, after seeing a vision of Erina as a goddess whose ascension broke the cycle that turns mages into monsters, has dedicated her life to ensuring that future becomes reality. Even the wish that turned her into a magical girl was in service of her goals: she wished to be the fount from which a true hero would be born.

(idk where else to put this, but another major plotline of my story is a government conspiracy. Countless children with psychic powers and/or the potential to become mages were kidnapped and raised in a top-secret research facility. Dany was one of the first victims of this program due to precognition being a very rare ability. Dany (not a mage yet) was deep in despair when she had her vision about Erina. It gave her a reason to live and keep going, which is why she’s so dedicated to Erina and her mission)

Twisting and weaving the threads of fate, Dany carefully manipulates things to ensure the future she saw. She does whatever she can to add onto Erina’s karma (which, like in PMMM, determines how powerful a mage is). Dany also became a mage years before Erina, so a lot of this happened when Erina was still completely ignorant of what fate had in store for her.

Erina’s Entrance

I truly cannot give as much background as I want on Erina herself because this is so fucking long already lol, but I’ll give the main points of her background:

Her mother died about a year after giving birth to her, and she was then raised by her grandmother until she was 5. After her grandmother suddenly died, she was put into the foster care system.

The main story starts when Erina is 12. I’m literally not even gonna try explaining all that goes on lol, but the important thing is that she comes under the care of a young man named Eric who becomes her adoptive father.

Again, due to reasons I won’t get into now, Erina was nearly driven to suicide due to despair (she has C-PTSD and was at a point where she thought the future was bleak). The love and care Eric showed her gave her hope and made her want to keep going, and she is left with the strong desire to inspire hope in others the way he did in her.

Flash forward a bit and Erina becomes a magical girl, using her wish to save Eric’s life in a dangerous situation. She immediately and wholeheartedly embraces her role as a magical girl, seeing it as a way to help others and inspire hope like she so dearly wants to.

Erina finds herself in a found family with fellow mages Luna, Rhae, Iris, and Flora (the other main OCs of my story). She also formally meets Dany and becomes close with her. She also becomes friends with lots of other people (including many mages) and has a lot of fun experiences.

Doppelgangers: The Other “Me”

It’s soon revealed that Erina’s magic has created a purifying barrier around the city she and her friends live in; instead of becoming Wraiths, mages who exhaust their magic will instead summon Doppelgangers (YES I LOVE MAGIA RECORD AND IT’S OBVIOUS). I’ll try to explain the Doppelgangers and their relationship to the overall lore:

Doppelgangers are actually symbiotic organisms from another dimension that attach onto the souls of sapient beings because they themselves lack souls as well as self-awareness and consciousnesses (although they do have intelligence).

Doppelgangers are normally benign, but they respond to their hosts' emotions and can turn into Wraiths if overcome with despair. Again, this did not always used to be the case. It’s implied that Erina’s magic is shielding the city from the effects of Chaos, and therefore Doppelgangers cannot be corrupted.

All People of the Cycle (intelligent life) have Doppelgangers, but only mages have the power to manifest them in our dimension.

Doppelgangers are also manifestations of the host's soul. As such, the host might be self-conscious of their Doppelgangers or outright reject it if they don't like what they see. In turn, the Doppelganger might keep trying to force its user to confront their own demons or flaws in an attempt to help them (basically, sometimes a Doppelganger can be a really intense therapy session lol). 

A Doppelganger is a reflection of its user, and accepting one's Doppel is an act of self-love and self-acceptance. Doppelgangers themselves LOVE their hosts and are unquestioningly loyal to them. However, more than the host’s words, the Doppelganger obeys their heart.

If the host rejects their Doppelganger, the Doppelganger will still come out in the automatic purification field. The mage just won't be able to control it. Outside of the city, they'll turn into a Wraith unless they come to terms with the Doppel and are able to summon it. 

Dany hopes to expand the purification barrier across the entire universe. She plans on doing this by having Erina resonate with the Rule of Cycles once again and be granted a second wish.

The vast majority of mages are only given one miracle. However, mages who have accumulated exceptional amounts of karma and are judged to be worthy are capable of being granted a second wish. This is why Dany has been working so hard to build up Erina’s karma. To help her with this goal, Dany creates a group called the Weavers of Fate.

Oh... It’s a Cult

Yep, the Weavers of Fate are pretty much a mage-based cult based on their belief in Dany’s visions and Erina’s future as a goddess. But can you blame them for latching onto hope when their fate is so dicey? Dozens (and later thousands) of mages work to assist Dany in her goals.

The Weavers of Fate embrace and revere Erina as their messiah, sometimes making her uncomfortable because she just wants to live a normal life with her loved ones. But as the story goes on, Erina becomes more and more convinced that she needs to embrace the role if it means saving her fellow mages.

Side note: at a certain point in the timeline, the existence of mages becomes public knowledge. There’s a lot of sociopolitical drama that I won’t get into here.

Dany’s Changing Priorities

A few years into the timeline (after a LOT of things happen that aren’t relevant to this writeup), Erina shockingly and unexpectedly dies in a climatic battle against Chaos. Dany is utterly devastated and, in her grief, resonates with the Rule of Cycles and makes a second wish (by this point, Dany has wracked up TONS of karma herself). She wishes for a chance to redo things, and is given the ability to go back in time. She can only go back in time at the static rate of a few months, but this gives her enough time to plan ahead for the climatic battle.

Well, long story short, Dany goes through several time loops, failing each one, and gets more and more traumatized each time. Yes, she’s literally Homura but better off in a few ways. Anyway, Dany learns that Erina’s ascension to godhood is not guaranteed; with the more karma she accumulates, she is more and more likely to become a Wraith. And not just any Wraith, a Wraith that could easily destroy the entire world (and later, even the galaxy).

After years of single-mindedly pursuing her goal, Dany decides that all she wants to do now is protect Erina and her other friends. She’s done with being a pawn for cosmic forces greater than her. She feels immense guilt for putting Erina on a pedestal and putting her through all this, as she now deeply loves and cherishes Erina as a friend... or maybe something more than a friend.

Except oops, she’s already done so much at this point that she’s completely screwed over the chances of them all having a normal life. With every reset, things just get worse. But she refuses to give up, continuing to hold out hope even in the face of overwhelming odds.

How It All Ends

Dany finally reveals everything to Erina, expressing her regret and asking for Erina’s forgiveness. Erina says there’s nothing to forgive, as she wouldn’t change the life she’s lived and the experiences she’s had for anything.

The climatic final battle begins. Wraiths from all over the world descend on the city where the story takes place, overriding the purification barrier and causing mass death and havoc. Erina is forced to sit it out due to the dangers of her dying or becoming a world-destroying Wraith, like Dany has seen happen so many times. A lot of the main characters die fighting, and Erina is left devastated.

Despite all that, Erina affirms her belief in hope and her desire to give it to mages- her people. The way she sees it, mages are being punished for believing in hope and wanting a better life, and that is unacceptable. She remembers a dear friend who became a Wraith, along with all of the other people she’s known and cared about who suffered the same fate.

She knows what she has to do.

She has an emotional conversation with Eric, her adoptive father, and thanks him for setting her down this road. Despite his pain and reluctance to let her go, he gives her his blessing. Erina says goodbye to her remaining friends and loved ones, thanking them for showing her how beautiful the world is. There are a lot of awful, terrible things in the world, but the good things it has to offer are enough to make it worth fighting for. Erina knows this better than anyone.

Resonating with the Rule of Cycles once more, Erina makes her second wish: To have the power to grant the promise of “tomorrow” to mages. She ascends to godhood, and the purification barrier becomes a universal law of nature (much like Ultimate Madoka). Unlike Madoka, however, everyone remembers Erina and knows about her sacrifice.

Time restructures itself, and because the Wraiths that killed everyone no longer exist, the people who died in the final battle are resurrected. Erina’s friends and family- ESPECIALLY Dany, who is absolutely guilt-ridden- deeply mourn her loss, but vow to keep protecting the world she loved and cared so much about.

🩷 The End 🩷

I Lied, There’s More

Okay, so that’s the ending of the main paracosm. However, there’s a sequel! I have not spent nearly as much time on this as the main story so a lot is very sketchy. I’m just gonna list out my main ideas:

A little while after the ending of the main story, an alien union/federation/whatever makes first contact with Earth; they were also saved by Erina's actions and want to return the favor by helping humanity out.

Stuff Happens but I don’t know exactly what yet lol. I do know there’s a lot of space battles because that’s just cool.

Erina eventually comes back into her physical form because Dany is in danger (I imagine it's a situation similar to Rebellion; I haven't hammered out the details yet though). There are also Chaos machinations, which could be catastrophic for the universe.

She manages to save Dany and also connects with Chaos itself, making it realize it needs to chill out. Like it can still be Chaos but not so extra.

Erina with her loved ones, also getting to meet the new characters. She is sad about needing to leave them again, but knows her duty is more important.

However, the Rule of Cycles is very grateful for all of Erina’s help; after all, she ended Wraiths and managed to get Chaos to calm down just a bit. The RoC asks Erina if she wants to live out the rest of her natural lifespan in the mortal world. She says yes, because there's nothing she wants to do more than live her life with her friends and family, in the world she loves so much.

I imagine the system her wish made is still in place because, like Madokami, she's both Erina the individual and Erina the force of nature. It’s not great to have Erina the individual missing, but since it’ll only be for a few decades the universe can cope.

In the ACTUAL, FINAL ending, Erina becomes a teacher for young mages. Erina, Dany, and Iris (a main character whose relationship with Erina is also a major theme) officially become a polycule. LOVE FUCKING WINS!

If you made it this far: THANK YOU FOR READING MY STORY, both the story itself and your interest mean more to me than anything!!! 🩷🩷🩷

[animeyanderelover]

I don’t know where I was going with this. But that doesn’t matter. The power of simping is simply too strong. I left out Finn because he died pretty quickly so I have no way of characterising him really well. I also know that apparently there is another sibling but I haven't watched The Originals so that's that.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, overprotective behavior, intimidation, threats, blackmailing, manipulation, violence, death

Images

Elijah Mikaelson

✞Elijah doesn't love easily. It speaks volumes that throughout his entire life as a vampire he has loved very few times only for that love to slip through his fingers like sand. Whether that loss has been his fault or the fault of the woman that he has loved, he has long since realised that he has never been innocent yet still he desires to maintain the image of the logical and rational man amongst a family filled with violence, impulsiveness and overflowing emotions that so quickly spiral out of control. If there is one person he wishes to be what he deep down isn't though then it is without a doubt his darling. Whilst he will never truly be the man standing on the morally high ground at the very least he wishes to uphold that image whilst he is with you. He values the love existing between the two of you deeply, his one firm pillar in between so many other shaky bridges that he still attempts to rebuild and keep with his siblings. No words could ever convey how deep his appreciation and his love for you goes for the sense of peace and calmness that you provide in his life yet still Elijah does what he can do to give back as much as possible for everything he receives simply by having you by his side.

✞There is no shortage of presents, trips and luxury in a relationship with him. Elijah truly embraces a romantic spirit now that he has you all to always let you know just how much you truly mean to him. Bouquets of red roses, letters expressing the thoughts and feelings he may not be able to convey spontanously as he crafts each sentence carefully and special dates when the circumstances have forced him away from you for more than a few days. It never feels like excessive spoiling though as each gift and each date has a thought behind it that goes beyond the simple luxury and price of it. With you Elijah is always the thoughtful gentleman he believes that you deserve, each action and confession crafted to the closest perfection that he can reach. That never means though that all violence has simply disappeared. It's hidden away from your gaze, the ruthless side Elijah doesn't wish you to see. Perhaps he aspires to be better for you, an act of mercy for all those who threaten you or the relationship as they receive one chance to turn around and to never return. Bloodshed has never been his signature yet should a fool choose to be a fool it cannot be helped.

Niklaus Mikaelson

♕Klaus is something and that can be interpreted in a good or in a bad way which applies both to him. His love is intense and coupled with so many thoughts and feelings that he has a hard tome controlling it all. There's a lot to unravel but the deeper you dig, the more Klaus becomes undone in front of your very eyes which only heightens all his emotions in return. Paranoia, abandonment issues, a sharp fear to forever be alone and a love that burns so intensely that it threatens to not only hurt the both of you but everyone around. Once such obsession has taken a hold of Klaus he is determined to never let you leave his grasp yet he is so used to being left that his hands clutching your life so tightly threaten to shatter it. So many things could go wrong and many things will go wrong as he struggles to deal with all issues and fears that have resurfaced so violently due to his feelings for you. His possessiveness runs high, his jealousy runs deep and the control he tries to force into your life runs wild. All because deep down he genuinely believes that otherwise you would never love nor accept him for the horrible person everyone hates and wants so desperately dead.

♕It's a long and difficult process to untangle the mess of feelings within him until he eases his body and mind. That isn't to say that moments of tenderness are nonexistent. An entire gallery filled with paintings of you, sketches neatly kept on his desk of your face and beautifully wrapped presents placed on your bed. Flights to Tokyo, Italy and all the places you wish to see with your own eyes and confessions of adoration and love that are so rare coming from his lips. All of it can be so easily shattered though in the face of your fear and horror all directed against him. Klaus retaliates whenever you reject him, covers his pain and vulnerability behind the rage and cruelty so many fear him for, becoming the monster you believe him to be. It's likely that he has hurt you once or twice, his feelings bursting out of him as agony and anger and leaving him drowning in the horrible feeling of guilt and a renewed fear that you will never accept him afterwards. Niklaus kills easily. He has left hills of dead bodies behind him throughout his long life already and now with his obsession for you in play new corpses start littering his path all to preserve you for himself.

Kol Mikaelson

🂱Kol is a true wild card as his actions are unpredictable and all guided by his own hedonism. By all means, he actually knows that his feelings are quite disturbing together with all the things he does as a result of it but he doesn't seem to feel an ounce of guilt. It's much the opposite instead as Kol actively revels in it. All the emotions coursing through his veins make him feel very alive to the point where he almost feels drunk on ecstasy and he decides to completely indulge in everything that this obsession has to offer. Known for loving the games though, Kol has a quite wicked way of treating you, the unfortunate victim of his obsession. His approach is quite two-faced as he wastes no time to get to know you during the day and present himself as someone quite cocky yet still quite charming only to haunt you at night and induce paranoia within you. He doesn't feel guilty though instead he finds it quite cute to see the visible effects his stalking has on you as you flinch at every noise, always turn your head over your shoulder as if afraid that someone is following you and start growing more unfocused as a result of the lack of sleep. So he will continue until you break.

🂱There is a different side that often reveals itself to you too, one far more enjoyable than the mindgames he so often puts you through. As he is neither as uptight nor as paranoid as his other siblings, Kol expresses his love much like the adventurous spirit that he has within him. Often he spontaneously whisks you away whenever he's in the mood, no matter what time of day it is. Kisses out of the blue, unpredictable and playful accompanied by some very corny pickup-lines that he has either come up with himself or has heard somewhere and cuteness aggression too. There's nothing that Kol really bothers to hide from you as he is the one who is the most open with his emotions, be it the good ones or the bad ones. Instead he basks in it all freely as he even indulges in the violent urges that arise when someone gets on his nerves. It's genuinely gruesome and evil though how he plays with his victims. He's taunting, he's tormenting and he likes to dangle a piece of hope in front of their noses and watch them running like frightened bunnies only to snatch it away right in front of their faces and enjoy the sheer look of horror and hopelessness.

Rebekah Mikaelson

❀Rebekah loves blindly and recklessly which spells a disaster in the making as her obsession quickly consumes her. She has been hurt far too many times over the centuries and every time she was betrayed by someone that she loved. It's understandable that she wishes to be wary yet deep down she is very much like Klaus in the way that she longs for someone to love her unconditionally and for someone who will always choose her no matter what. She fears being backstabbed by even you and it doesn't even matter how long the two of you have known each other at that point. All of those fears and insecurities combined result in this awful mixture of possessiveness, pushiness and control that can and will be overwhelming very quickly for you. Rebekah seems to have you under constant surveillance as if she is just waiting for the moment where she catches you cheating on her or plotting to have her put back in the coffin again. For that reason she even compels the people around her all to always know what you are up to and to always have someone watching over you and report back to her. She wants to trust, she really does, but she doesn't know how to do that after everything that has happened.

❀Still she is a girl who wishes to be happily in love and that shows in the way that she treats the relationship. In general the two of you are always together and seen as a pair with matching outfits and matching jewelry all chosen by her. Frequent dates, constant hand-holding and excessive mails and calls when she isn't with you at the moment. Rebekah wants her own happy lovestory and she wants it with you which is why she works so very hard to ensure that everything is exactly how she has always wished it be be. However, she has an extremely bad temper and that becomes apparent very quickly as you watch her. Her jealousy threatens to consume her on a daily base the moment you pay attention to someone else that isn't her and she gets spiteful and mean very quickly as that horrible feeling within her stomach wriggles around until she feels nauseous. She lashes out and she does so quickly as her emotions tend to get the better of her and in her rage even you will not be spared from her bitterness. It's that horrible temper of hers which makes her prone to hurt, torture and murder people she sees as threats to the happy ending she so sorely deserves.

[luciaintheskyainthi]

I’ve finally been able to sit down and read chapter 23

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO US😭😭??? I DON’T KNOW WHO TO SIDE WITH ANYMORE AND IM NOT EVEN FINISHED WITH THE CHARACTER OMGG

amazing writing I love it🥲👍 five stars

🔥🔥YES MY PRETTIES WALLOW IN THE MORAL AMBIGUITY 🔥🔥

In all seriousness, you can't ship characters like Peter Parker with Jason Todd without moral conflict. Not without a compromise of at least one of their characters.

Grounded as I am in the real world, I align with Peter's perspective. But you can do that and still acknowledge that in the world that Gotham exists in, Jason's perspective could lead to less harm.

I RB a while ago someone's comment about how the conflict between Bruce and Jason comes down to, whose life do you choose to privilege? Batman chooses, inadvertently, to privilege the lives of characters like the Joker, despite knowing there's the (high) likelihood he'll escape and harm others. This is because Batman is THE Optimist™️ and so he spares the Joker (and Co.) in the hope they can change and be rehabilitated. But of course, because these are villains which are popular (we're getting a bit meta here), they'll never change. They'll just continue escaping and continue killing. And this is where Batman as a comic character fails.

In Jason's eyes, this makes Bruce complicit in the deaths of all future victims. I think Jason sees the times when he kills people as a form of harm reduction. By making himself a murderer, he in turn reduces the chance of future murders.

(Since we're talking about comic characters and since Batman is an incredibly important character to DC, this inevitably means that Jason's morality can never succeed, because Batman [ rightly so] cannot become a killer.)

Now, I think Peter is more closely aligned to Batman's moral code than Jason's. He's also at his core an optimist. Although I do think their motivators are different: Batman is for justice, something that often involves invoking fear; Spider-Man is about helping others and (to me, in my heart of hearts) community empowerment. This arguably places him in a position where he does side closer with the Red Hood in SOME things.

At present though, because I'm working with MCU Peter who was more or less reduced to a super powered cop, he has a very black and white view of the world. He'd already started changing in the months after the Erasure, but definitely has more growth to make.

Of course, because this is fanfiction, I can allow these characters to challenge each other. Instead of dooming one of them to the narrative, I can explore the messy world of morality in a city like Gotham, rather than draw a hard line in the sand saying, Batman and Spider-Man good, Red Hood bad.

So expect more mess! At the end of the day, fiction is still fiction, and you can look at the world of ECM and think, yeah, this perspective works better there, but not in our world. I'm not expecting my lovely readers to pick sides because I can't pick sides! We can all just look at the quagmire of messy politics and enjoy our two goobers having a mud fight 💖