#and now I'm going back to bed

[prismatoxic]

I have a really bad habit of inserting myself into conversations I have no place in.

I'm sure I'm not the only one. only, most people I know who do it are doing it because they can't read social signals well. but the thing about me is that I read them fine. I'm just impulsive.

I think of a response to something being said and just say it. or, people I like are talking and I want to be talking with them so I try to respond to a topic I know nothing about. frequently this ends in the same ways: being stepped around because I added nothing at best, or being actively dismissed because I was being annoying at worst. and I see it. I see what's happening, I read the signs that I've committed social faux pas as clearly as anyone can.

the impulsivity doesn't stop even though the rsd I inevitably have to deal with is crushing. this has been going on since I was a kid; I'm sure I could give you several hypotheses why I've always done it that aren't just ADHD related.

just been on my mind again. I catch myself doing it or even get playfully teased for how much I insert myself into things and it just makes me feel like such a loser. I'm not trying to derail, I promise. I just want to be included.

[uwudonoodle]

[sapphire-weapon]

just woke up to a shitton of asks

some of you are really new here, huh

let me be very clear about who i am and what this blog is.

i am not your personal army. my blog does not exist for you to vent your frustrations on in hopes that i will share those frustrations and then go attack people for them.

i do not write meta posts with the intentions of debunking aeon for the sake of sticking it to the shippers. i analyze the story of resident evil as it was written, and debunkings of aeon happen to fall out of that on their own. i am not doing it on purpose, and i will not write up a post to try to prove your point about whatever stupid bullshit fandom thing you're mad about if the text does not support your conclusion.

i am not going to wage a war against aeon fandom.

i do not fucking care about aeon fandom.

i don't care what they're doing or saying about or to anyone. whatever they're saying or doing is not my fucking problem. if they've harassed you or given you shit, that sucks, but i don't really care. your failure to block people on social media is not my fucking problem.

i am being 100% sincere when i say that i find their mass reporting of this blog funny. i was laughing about this with my roommate last night so hard that tears were coming out of my eyes. when i say that what aeon fandom is doing isn't my problem, i mean it. even though they went after my personal blog, it's still not my problem, because it is not a problem. i have real problems in my life. this is not one of them.

so if you're here because you think i'm going to be the big dick defending you against a group of teenagers on the internet -- if you're here because you think i'm going to be your voice -- or if you're here because you want to try to incite me to wage some kind of war against a group of teenagers on the internet -- you are overinvested, and you need to touch grass.

the second you cross the line from "this is an interesting phenomenon" or "this is worth a laugh" into legitimate anger that is actually causing you real stress and is affecting your mood and your behavior, you are in too deep, and you need to go outside.

the problem is not aeon fandom, in that case.

the problem is you.

you are fucking toxic. and i don't want you here.

[angered-box]

erm. gm and gn² btw

[heathenkweer]

Honestly I don't know why you're so popular, you can't write Luis to save your life and putting him with a woman proves that, the man is as gay as a two dollar bill, and a lame female character like Mary-Sue Catalina at that. Why do you put obviously gay characters like Loki or Luis with women? It's giving homophobic tbh

okay normally I would ignore this type of message like I normally do but admittedly you've caught me in a weakened mental state because of a CFS crash, so, here's the attention you wanted:

(I'm going to assume you're also the anon who said something about Wintersberg being "obvious" or whatever, too.)

My little fic and my little OCs aren't keeping anyone from shipping what they like or reading what they like. I've no clue why some people act like they do.

As for why I don't ship "obvious" popular fanon M/M couples like Serennedy or Wintersberg:

I no longer accept crumbs of barely there subtext from my media when it comes to queer relationships.

I'm tired of doing the work for the writers. I'm tired of forcing room for myself and other queer people in their canons. That's the whole reason I stopped writing MCU stuff -- I'm tired of always having to fix Loki's character, of giving more of a shit about him than any of his writers ever have. (Also, MCU Loki is canonically bisexual, so idk where you're getting that "obviously gay" thing from.)

Also, none of these ships are my catnip, as I've mentioned before. Give me Morpheus/Hobb from The Sandman and we'll talk then. Give me Aziraphale/Crowley. Or, on the other side, give me Usagi/Seiya from Sailor Moon, or Haruka/Michiru.

And lastly: I write female OCs because generally the media I get into doesn't have a lot of great female characters. In FFXV, if you're a woman and a love interest, you get killed to further the men's stories. Same if you're a mother character. Village is sliiiiightly better about this, surprisingly, but the way they completely shafted Mia pissed me off, and I wanted to really delve into what growing up in that village would be like and how that might twist a person like Aranka. And Cat -- I wanted someone who knew Luis before the whole Umbrella and Los Illuminados thing, and again, I wanted to give Valdelobos and the people who lived in it a bit more time to shine on their own.

ANYWAY. I'm content with how I write my characters. It's brought me a lot of good friends and tbh I appreciate that more than I would thousands of fans. (I also do not know where you got the idea that I'm popular from. I was middling-popular in the Logyn fandom, like... ten years ago now, and I'm but a mere drop in both the RE4 and Village fandoms.)

Other people write about these ships far better than I do, so I suggest you go find them and read their works instead of sending weird messages to strangers on the internet.

[teaboot]

Sometimes at work it's not my place to tell people the things I want to say, and I find I often go home at the end of the rougher days to stand blankly in my shower and tell myself over and over what I wish I could pass on.

This accomplishes very little, and mostly just gives me a tension headache, but through it all I think I've narrowed myself down to a few solid things I'd like to tell people the most.

You can't change people. Not permanently, not for anythig. You can support them, encourage them, love them, give them tools and opportunities and resources, but you can't make them change. They can change themselves if they want to, but they have to want to, and they have to want it for themselves, because they're the only one that's certain to be with them forever.

For better or worse, you make your own choices, and blaming bad choices on others doesn't only work to absolve you of responsibility- it also robs you of control. Because if you say you only did something because I did something, then you arent only shifting blame- you're admitting that you cannot control yourself, that you cannot truly make choices for yourself, that other people can control you- and as long as you truly beleive that, you'll keep facing the same problems over and over. You'll keep letting others dictate your choices, because you'll beleive that they can, and you'll never be free.

White knights on horseback are from fairytales. Nobody can help you if ou're not willing to help yourself. To try, to put the dirty work in, to belive you're worth that effort- Act as though nobody is coming to save you. From a struggle, from pain, from bad relationships, from yourself. And when you do save yourself, because you will, because failure here isn't an option if you want to survive, you'll never find another dragon that can keep you prisoner.

Don't say anything to anyone that you wouldn't want them remembering forever.

Doing the right thing in bad circumstances is hard. It's the hardest thing. But if you make the choice to do that hard thing anyways, despite your fear, you'll go on the rest of your like knowing that you're the sort of person who did something.

The present only seems the hardest because the past I over and the future hasn't happened.

There's so much joy ahead of you, the kind you can't possibly understand until you see it yourself.

The responsibility of consequences is often disguised as the power of permission. "I won't do this if you help me", "I'll work on my anger if you do this for me", "I promised you I'd quit, but can I have just one?". The unspoken question is, "Can it be your fault if this goes badly?"

You cant make someone love you the way you need to be loved. Someone can love you very much and still be bad for you, even if you love them very much in return. Two people can love each other very, very much, and try their very best, and still be wrong for each other.

Sometimes being near to someone changes you, even in good ways, and the people you become don't fit together as well as the people you were.

Caring takes work. Even if it's real. Especially if it's real. And the most important gestures aren't the grand, poetic, songs-and-flowers-and-tears moments; they're getting out of bed even though you don't want to. Paying attention to things you don't enjoy. Scrubbing pans, or opening a window, saying "thank-you", or helping carry groceries into the house. The small things fill the big things- without the small, boring, mediocre things, big things feel hollow.

Thrre is honour and dignity in humble work.

If you are a cruel and spiteful person, then you will find every place you visit to be full of the same cruel, spiteful people. This is not because the world is as cruel as you, but because everywhere you are, you will be disliked. This is the curse that comes with being persistently cruel and spiteful.

If you are a kind and ppsitive person, you will repeatedly encounter kind and positive people, because as they grow familiar with you, they will be happier to have you near. This is the reward of being a kind and positive person.

When splitting paths with loved ones, briefly or forever, aim for your last words to always be "I love you".

[qqueenofhades]

oh god is biden dropping out? i don't know what happens then

Jesus effing Christ.

Few thoughts:

The billionaire Democratic donors got their way, apparently. All I saw was that the big-dollar donors were secretly putting pressure on the rank-and-file Democratic elected officials (i.e. House and Senate) to denounce Biden or not get any more money, and other shameful backroom maneuvering to knife Biden. I will refrain (lol, no I won't) from speculating that billionaires of any political stripe feel threatened by Biden's increasingly progressive tax/wealth redistribution policies, and saw their chance after the bad debate performance to knife him. Because until further notice, I'm going to think that was the biggest factor.

I don't know if there's an actual health condition that made Biden agree it was the best time (in fucking July) to step down, but if this was an issue, there needed to be planning last year, at the earliest, to prepare for a new successor. I don't know what's going on. This is a clusterfuck on many, many levels.

However: it is true that this does change things and not necessarily only for the worse, as long as Harris is immediately confirmed as the new nominee and this stupid Democrats In Disarray nonsense, which is giving the media exactly what they want, is put to a fucking end. If Harris is also swept aside and the billionaire donors try to install their preferred "Centrist!!!" candidate (lol Manchin or some shit) with an equally antidemocratic closed-door Star Chamber convention, then yes, we're fucked. Because the Congressional Black Caucus and African American voters saw exactly what the rich white man billionaires were trying to do by torching Biden and then Harris, and they are not going to play ball with some Magical White Man replacement.

If Harris is immediately confirmed as the new nominee (and to the best of my knowledge Biden has endorsed her), then she has a chance of reinvigorating the race. There were a lot of Americans who did not want either Biden or Trump. I suspect they were fucking braindead, but so be it. Harris has apparently polled pretty and increasingly well in recent days (in some cases actually better than Biden) and again, there is no remotely small-d democratic alternative to her. The billionaire donors already trashed the duly elected (by the primary process) Democratic nominee. If they do the same to Harris, then yes. We will have Trump and there won't be any more democracy in this country on either side, because the Republican big-bucks donors will gleefully pick up where the Democratic big-bucks donors left off.

Jesus fucking Christ.

The message needs to be "Harris is Joe's successor, she is younger and already has four years of experience and is the only candidate." Anything else is a fucking gift from god to the Republicans, once more getting trashed after Trump's terrible RNC speech. Maybe she can then pick Whitmer or Shapiro (both popular and effective Democratic governors of swing states, MI and PA respectively) as a running mate, but the nominee has to be Kamala. There is no other fucking choice. This is already enough of a mess.

If that can happen, and the fucking donors can refrain from fucking it up, then... okay. It's not great, but it does change things. It makes the ticket younger. It makes it historic (first Black female president beating Trump would be amazing). It could reach people disenchanted with the current two-old-white-guys setup.

This is an incredible sacrifice on Biden's part and I only wish that I could believe he did it voluntarily, rather than being forced out by a small class of rich people worrying about his policies getting too progressive.

I wish him only the best and I recognize this decision was taken under extreme pressure. If we then lose to Trump, I hope everyone who forced Biden out burns in hell.

I was a diehard Biden supporter not because I loved the guy personally, but because he was the only choice for preserving democracy in America. The essential stakes of the election have not changed, even if the billionaires just knifed us in the fucking back, possibly to nobody's surprise, because R or D, they are not our friends.

Kamala is the only choice. I will now have to defend her as hard as I did for Biden. She needs to beat Trump. There is nothing else to it. If you think she can't, then you need to work at helping her do that. There is already enough calamity and doom. We do not have a choice. We cannot lose sight of what is at stake here.

Kamala Harris/Whitmer and/or Shapiro and/or Buttigieg 2024.

The end.

[hypewinter]

*Slams fist on table* Clark and Jack switch places! And not just a mind swap either but full presto change-o magical dimensional full body switch. Maybe it's because Jack is an alternate version of Superman. Maybe it's due to ghost shenanigans. Who knows!

You know what I do know? Wild hijinks ensue. Clark wakes up in a weird laboratory, house mashup after just being at his apartment is the definition of confusion and panic. Just then Danny enters the kitchen to see his dad who's also very much not his dad having a full panic attack in the kitchen and just groans being at this point he's used to his life being turned upside down on any given day. This is probably the Ghost Writer's or Desiree's doing. Don't worry mister, we'll figure this out but until then, you're gonna have to pretend to be my dad. W-what? Ah you see my mom is very ghost obsessed and attributes everything to their doing. She also believes everything ghosts do is evil so if she realizes you're not her husband, you'll probably be strapped to a table. This makes Supes pause because A. Wouldn't she realize right away that he wasn't her husband? And B. She'd have a hard time strapping him down to anything. To which Danny answers A. She's so obsessed with her research she won't notice as long as you put in the effort and B. Trust me she has her ways. Poor Clark has no idea what situation he's stumbled into but he's about to find out face.

Meanwhile Jack is having a pretty good time all things considered. Just wait until Maddie hears about all the things he's encountering in this weird ghost territory (though the locals keep insisting their not ghosts despite having clear ghost powers). The Superfamily on the other hand is really freaking out and would really like to know where their patriarch is. Multiple heroes are called in but no one can really figure out what happened or how it happened. Until then they decide to keep in on the down low. Which isn't too hard considering how many super folks are around Metropolis. Superman is probably out on a space mission right now and Clark Kent took a vacation or something right guys? So unlike his counterpart Jack doesn't have to pretend to be anyone and is free to go full Fenton. He's researching and documenting everything, building contraptions out of any "ghost" tech he can get his hands on, and overall being a well meaning, fudging making menace. He's exhausting but also endearing. Especially how he rambles on about showing his wife all of this. He does keep slipping in some concerning " dissection" comments though.

[bunnymadeofstardust]

The lyrics are from Shake the Disease by Depeche Mode it gave me siffloop ideas >:3

[tgmsunmontue]

2.30am and I can't sleep, so have the idea that I thought of today at an inappropriate time.

TGM AU where Bradley's paper are pulled, so he's furious with Mav, but Ice sits him down and explains why Mav did it. Bradley is confused and hurt, but the thing that pisses him off the most that is that Mav doesn't think he deserves this explanation.

So Bradley, being eighteen, decides he won't go the ROTC route, and instead throws himself into something else, and Ice and Sarah back him 100% and he's happy enough and successful but he still doesn't have a great relationship with Mav because he never apologises for pulling Bradley's papers and changing the course of his entire life.

And then Ice dies and at the funeral Bradley is standing with the family, because Ice and Sarah were his family, and he's spent every holiday with them, he's so very fully entrenched in their lives. He's Ice's son in everything but name.

Then at the funeral Jake Seresin sees this man standing with the family, and he's listed in the order of service as one of the children of Admiral Kazansky, and Jake's like Hmm - not bad looking. So he sidles up to Maverick to ask, because Maverick has this reputation of going after the daughters of Admirals, even though it's only happened the one time.

"So pops, any advice on asking the son of an Admiral out?"

And Mav looks around, wondering who Jake is talking about because he DOESN'T think of Bradley as Ice's son, but then Jake is staring at Bradley and not being subtle AT ALL and Mav almost chokes on a little piece of finger food...

[starscreamingg]

Okay I'm so sleep deprived so pardon whatever this is but something that's got me FUCKED up about ai generated pictures songs writing is that it just fucking kills the ability to analyse for me because there's no fucking INTENTION behind it. Like why was this decision made why were these colours used what does that say about the work NOTHING because a bunch of programming took work that DID have intent and theme and purposeful choices and turned it into SLOP. Like I COULD analyse this but it doesn't MEAN anything it's EMPTY I want to EXPLODEEE

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[buttercupshands]

silly guys finally got another one in

took them a while but they did it! (oh no)

[trensu]

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

.

“Hello. I���ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said. 

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention. 

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you–” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again. 

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord." 

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted. 

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied. 

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens. 

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased. 

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction. 

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard. 

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion. 

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily. 

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is��is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly. 

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.” 

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice. 

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own.  "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?" 

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow. 

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind. 

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

------

*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

------

and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

[madeline-magnolia]

I feel like a lot of people miss the point that hdg is a fan-made universe, there's worlds of possibilities for expanding on the original fic. I've had plenty of people in my personal life talk about it as if it was all just non-con pet play when I find it to have so much more potential. theres room for exploration of all manner of subjects. it's a setting not a monolithic canon. If no one strayed from the original fic to add their own concepts most of hdg really wouldn't be the same.

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

It's episode 9, the whole family's finally back together and I am happy to say that I was right, again. (I knew Kan wasn't responsible for Home's crash!) But more importantly let's talk about all of the gay moments.

1

Look at Peach pulling on Home's sleve when they're cornered by the angry community. It's okay Peach, just hold his hand. I'm pretty sure Home would let you. (Also Home was feeling himself in that wig and honestly, more power to him)

2

Home has come a long way from devaluing Peach's food because it was cheap and trying to bribe ghosts with food deliveries instead. Now he's here, looking for food for Peach to cook for the ghost, without any prompting from anyone else.

And then he even holds the window blinds open for Peach when they break into Sing's room.

Good job being a supportive bf, Home.

3

Even Kan's community knows not to separate Home and Peach.

(I know in the second one pairing them together is kind of necessary to set up the Pangpang & Suradech joke but still.)

4

Last week I was a little confused when, in the preview, it seemed like Home still couldn't see ghosts even though he died and came back like Peach. But of course we had already established that Peach can only see ghosts, not hear them so obviously Home has to complete him by being able to hear but not see ghosts.

Because they belong with each other. Because they achieve their full potential only when working together. Because Home has been trying to help Peach understand what the ghosts are saying since Rak.

Because it is the combination of Home repeating Sing's words and Peach repeating his actions that finally allow Kan to let herself believe that his ghost is there, that finally allows her to let him go.

5

Peach is very worried about Home this episode. (Not surprising after he almost watched him die last week.) He's worried when Home keeps having issues with his hearing.

And he's not happy to see Home get beaten up right in front of him

Pleading with Kan to help him. (although it was slightly funny to see Peach babygirl himself into being unable to escape the hold of one single person that was also smaller than him)

When he can finally free himself, though his eyes are focused on Kan's dying father, his immediate action is to help Home.

And when Home faints? at the end of the episode, Peach is, of course, immediately all over him.

6

Peach cooses to sit next to Home, not his sister, even though there's a pillar separating them. And while all four of them are sitting together, through the angles at which they're sitting there is a subtle grouping of Pangpang with Kan and Home with Peach.

A grouping which is recreated in the end credits after Pangpang and Home bring Kan back to the family table.

Look at the dads with their two daughters. (Okay let's say Kan is their daughter-in-law, otherwise Lesbian Corner is going to get a bit weird)

7

Peach is the one to gently wake up Home so he can take part in their family reunification meal.

And freshly awakened Home doesn't even bother to look around himself, fully trusting Peach to have all the answers.

Lesbian Corner

Pangpang gets her own 'you betrayed me, I won't hear you out' moment this episode.

Just like her brother, when he felt betrayed by Home, her immediate reaction to Kan pretending she never cared about them, is to take her at face value and walk away.

When Kan moves to touch Home's hair while he's sleeping, Pangpang is the one who interrupts. Because she knows Kan should be paying attention to her and leave Home for Peach to wake up.

And then, once Home and Kan have reconciled, she promptly asks Kan to feed her, because as she stated before, Pangpang is truly the baby of their little family.