#really long post

[david-talks-sw]

Debunking myths in the GFFA: Luke Skywalker isn't the One True Jedi™ and doesn't "reject the Jedi teachings."

The myth:

Luke's Jedi mentors - trained to be dispassionate and mission-driven - callously tell him to let his friends die in service of a greater cause.

"In The Empire Strikes Back, Luke becomes Yoda's Padawan, and there are echoes of Anakin's training and the dilemmas he faced. Like Anakin, Luke is told he is too old to begin the training. Like Anakin, he has a vision of his loved ones suffering in captivity, and receives cold advice from Yoda, who tells him to sacrifice Han and Leia if he honors what they fight for." - Jason Fry, “Family Tradition; Rejecting the Jedi Teachings” Star Wars Insider #130, 2012

The intended narrative:

The Jedi are actually right on all points. Luke isn't ready or fully trained and he's arrogantly letting his emotions rule him and rushing into danger. By ignoring them, Luke gets himself into a spot of trouble that actually jeopardizes the lives of the very friends he tried to help, as they now need to rescue him.

“It’s pivotal that Luke doesn’t have patience. He doesn’t want to finish his training. He’s being succumbed by his emotional feelings for his friends rather than the practical feelings of “I’ve got to get this job done before I can actually save them. I can’t save them, really.” But he sort of takes the easy route, the arrogant route, the emotional but least practical route, which is to say, “I’m just going to go off and do this without thinking too much.” And the result is that he fails and doesn’t do well for Han Solo or himself.”

“Luke is making a critical mistake in his life of going after- to try to save his friends when he’s not ready. There’s a lot being taught here about patience and about waiting for the right moment to do whatever you’re going to do.”

“Luke is in the process of going into an extremely dangerous situation out of his compassion— Without the proper training, without the proper thought, without the proper foresight to figure out how he’s gonna get out of it. His impulses are right, but his methodology is wrong.”

The myth:

The Jedi want Luke to repress his feelings and kill his father, to destroy the Sith, their religious enemies. As emotionally-detached Jedi, it is inconceivable that a Sith would come back from the Dark Side, and thus wrongly believe that the only solution is to kill Vader.

"It's easy to miss that Luke disagrees sharply with his Jedi teachers about what to do. Obi-Wan and Yoda have trained Luke and push him toward a second confrontation with Vader. He is, they believe, the Jedi weapon that will destroy both Vader and the Emperor. When Luke insists there is still good in Vader, Obi-Wan retorts that "he's more machine than man-twisted and evil." When Luke says he can't kill his own father, Obi-Wan despairs, "Then the Emperor has already won."�� But Obi-Wan could not be more wrong. It is precisely because Luke can't kill his own father that he defeats the Sith." - Jason Fry, Star Wars Insider #130, 2012

The intended narrative:

The Jedi never tell Luke to "kill" his father. That's just a fact.

They tell him to "confront" and "face" him.

Their bottom line is that Vader and the Emperor need to be stopped.

If Luke can manage to do so without killing his father, that's great.

"In Jedi the film is really about the redemption of this fallen angel. Ben is the fitting good angel, and Vader is the bad angel who started off good. All these years Ben has been waiting for Luke to come of age so that he can become a Jedi and redeem his father. That's what Ben has been doing, but you don't know this in the first film." - Star Wars: The Annotated Screenplays, 1998

(credit to @writerbuddha for finding the above quote)

The problem is: Darth Vader has a track record of murdering loved ones who refuse to kill him. Be it his wife...

... his father/brother...

... and if you're going by Canon, his little sister.

As such, there's a very strong chance that Vader might do the same to his son as well.

“A Jedi can’t kill for the sake of killing. The mission isn’t for Luke to go out and kill his father and get rid of him. The issue is, if he confronts his father again, he may, in defending himself, have to kill him, because his father will try to kill him.” - 1981 story conference, from The Making of Return of the Jedi

Now, as the last Jedi left, the fate of the galaxy rests entirely on Luke's shoulders.

If he dies, then the galaxy and its billions of inhabitants are doomed to live in a tyrannical dictatorship forever.

“He knows a confrontation is brewing between Luke and his father. Ben hopes Luke will either save his father or kill him, because whatever extra powers Luke's got in his lineage, he is the one person that can probably fight his father and win.” - The Star Wars Archives: 1977-1983, 2018

There's a time for talking things through... and a time to do your duty. Above all else, a Jedi's duty is to end conflict.

Obi-Wan was once tasked with this same duty.

And while he managed to weaken Vader considerably (thus avoiding the catastrophe of a full-powered Vader being unleashed onto the galaxy)... because of his attachment, he failed to kill Vader.

Twice, if you include the Kenobi show.

(A show which, per Pablo Hidalgo, is one of George Lucas' favorite recent Star Wars projects, a tidbit that doesn't surprise me one bit considering how much the series perfectly aligns with what Lucas said about Star Wars (see here, here and here))

Point being: because Ben failed his duty, the galaxy suffered for it.

Luke is now in danger of doing the same.

If he's unable to end the conflict in a peaceful way, then Luke needs to be ready to do so in a more permanent manner. Because while Luke has qualms about killing his father, there's a very big chance that the feeling won't be mutual.

So Luke isn't rejecting his teachers' orders to kill Vader. He's saying he's unable to confront Vader altogether, because he'll be half-assing the task. In the (very likely) worst case scenario where reasoning with Vader fails, Luke is concerned he won't be able to follow-through and do what he must.

Further, there's also a worse outcome to Luke dying: Luke joining the Dark Side and becoming yet another asset of the Emperor, more dangerous than Vader himself.

It's thus essential that Luke steel himself and mask his emotions, because the Emperor is a master manipulator who'll likely attempt to corrupt Luke via the strong emotions he has for his friends.

Obi-Wan is not telling Luke to repress his emotions. On the contrary, he acknowledges that these feelings do Luke credit. But the fact remains that when your opponent can jiu-jitsu those feelings against you and your friends, you need to keep a poker face.

And judging by how close the Sith Lords come to seducing Luke to the Dark Side...

... that advice is completely on point.

The myth:

"It isn't Jedi teachings that save the galaxy, but bonds the Jedi tried to forbid - such as the love of a father for his son, and a son for his father. Emotional attachments, in other words." - Jason Fry, Star Wars Insider #130, 2012

The intended narrative:

In Return of the Jedi, Luke isn't doing anything different than what other Jedi have done.

He does his best to avoid lethal force unless he deems that it is necessary (see his fight against Jabba's hostile forces).

He sacrifices himself for the greater good and let himself be captured, in order to allow the mission to be carried out.

He tries to reason with his enemy, hoping to avoid conflict.

He spares his enemy, showing mercy.

That's all standard Jedi stuff. We've seen other Jedi do all those things, both in the films and The Clone Wars.

If that isn't enough, just look at how Lucas describes what Jedi normally do (left), versus what Luke does in Return of the Jedi (right):

See what I mean? There’s pretty much no difference.

In Lucas' narrative, Luke isn’t “better than” or “rejecting the teachings” of the Jedi who came before him. He’s following the Jedi path. And he's really good at doing so.

Because this idea that Luke "rejects the teachings" makes no sense! They're Lucas' teachings. He agrees with the Jedi, they're the mouthpieces he uses to deliver the audience his own values.

Lucas having his main character do something he'd ideologically disagree with is something that doesn't make sense.

And part of this confusion comes from a misunderstanding of the word "attachment", in Star Wars.

It doesn't mean "emotional attachments" or "feelings" or "affection." It comes from the Buddhist principle of non-attachment.

It's not about depriving yourself of relationships or affection, it's about accepting that everything comes and goes and letting go of those very things you hold on to, when the time comes.

Lucas makes a distinction in his discourse between attachment and compassion.

"The whole idea of the movie, ultimately is that you have the Light Side and the Dark Side. The Light Side is compassion, which means you care about other people. The Dark Side is you care only about yourself. And you are obsessed with yourself. Getting your pleasure and getting all your stuff. The other one, you give it to everybody. You give goodness and health to everybody else.  So the issue of love... there’s a line between loving somebody compassionately and caring about them and helping them. But the other line is not to be greedy or... once you are greedy then you get fearful. You don’t want to lose what it is you have that you are getting. So you have to learn to give up everything. And ultimately for a Jedi Knight, it’s very easy to give up." - Celebration V, Main Event, 2010

In-universe, this is something Anakin knew the theory of, but never really applied all that much.

Luke on the other hand, was able to learn the lesson and apply it.

Speaking in Lucas lingo, it's not Luke's attachment that makes him spare Vader. It's his compassion. And in turn, that compassion inspires Vader to do the same.

"It really has to do with learning. Children teach you compassion. They teach you to love unconditionally. Anakin can’t be redeemed for all the pain and suffering he’s caused. He doesn’t right the wrongs, but he stops the horror. The end of the Saga is simply Anakin saying, ‘I care about this person, regardless of what it means to me. I will throw away everything that I have, everything that I have grown to love - primarily the Emperor - and throw away my life, to save this person. And I’m doing this because he has faith in me, loves me despite all the horrible things I’ve done. I broke his mother’s heart, but he still cares about me, and I can’t let that die.’" - The Making of Revenge of The Sith; page 221

Or, to put things more simply:

Attachment (selfish love), is what makes Anakin do this:

Compassion (selfless love), is what makes Luke do this:

Now, could Lucas have made his narrative more explicit, to avoid confusion? Maybe.

But I think it's also fair to point the finger at the biggest cause of these muddied waters:

Simply put, the Expanded Universe (the Star Wars books, novels and games that spun out of the films) established new lore elements that didn't necessarily align with Lucas' vision of things. Namely:

Jedi can get married, and Luke marries Mara Jade.

Jedi can begin their training as adults, and Luke takes on many apprentices that are already adults.

When considering George's minimal involvement in the development of EU stories, it's easy to see why these plot points were allowed to come through.

But when he made the Prequels, his headcanons came to light and the above plot points needed to be retconned.

George Lucas' narrative:

"Nope. You can't be a Jedi and be married."

This isn't actually coming out of left field.

When Timothy Zahn asked for Luke and Mara to be married or engaged, back in 1993, Lucasfilm initially vetoed the idea.

And over the years, Lucas and other Lucasfilm employees have made it it clear that "Luke getting married" did not align with his vision (so much so that it's a plot point in Attack of the Clones).

So the question becomes: why can't Jedi get married?

It's about commitment.

Simply put: you can't have two marriages. Eventually, your commitment to one of them will falter and you'll ruin them both. A Jedi is already married to the cause and to the Order.

If they want to get married, they have to leave the Jedi.

"One of the things [the Jedi] give up is marriage. They can still love people. But they can’t possess them. They can’t own them. They can’t demand that they do things. They have to be able to accept the fact, one, their mortality, that they are going to die. And not worry about it. That the loved ones they have, everything they love is going to die and they can’t do anything about it. I mean they can protect them as you would ordinarily protect, you know, ‘Get out of the way of that car.’ Somebody charges you with a gun, you knock the gun out, but there is an inevitability to life which is death and you have to accept that." - Celebration V, Main Event, 2010

And this is another example, really, of how Lucas' own values and past experiences shape the Jedi's teachings.

Marcia Lucas divorced George because he was constantly working on Star Wars, even when he wasn't directing it, which she said led to an emotional blockage in their marriage...

... and this leads us to the reason why George didn't double-down on the success of the Original Trilogy: he decided to take time off to raise his three kids as a single Dad.

He learned his lesson, reasoned that he wouldn't be able to be both a good, present father and a successful blockbuster film director.

When you're dealing with time-consuming commitments of this scale, you need to make a choice, or you'll end up (half-assing and thus ruining) both of them.

"Nope. Jedi get taken in as babies for a reason."

Once again, this has to do with Lucas' definition of "attachment."

"Jedi Knights get taken from their families very young. They do not grow attachments, because attachment is a path to the Dark Side. You can love people, but you can't want to possess them. They're not yours. Accept that they have a fate. Even those you love most are going to die. You can't do anything about that. Protect them with your lightsaber, but if they die they were going to die. There's nothing you can do. All you can do is accept that fact. In mythology, if you go to Hades to get them back, you're not doing it for them, you're doing it for yourself. You're doing it because you don't want to give them up. You're afraid to be without them. The key to the Dark Side is fear. You must be clean of fear, and fear of loss is the greatest fear. If you're set up for fear of loss, you will do anything to keep that loss from happening, and you're going to end up in the Dark Side. That's the basic premise of Star Wars and the Jedi, and how it works. That's why they're taken at a young age to be trained. They cannot get themselves killed trying to save their best buddy when it's a hopeless exercise." - The Star Wars Archives: 1977-1983, 2018

Jedi need to maintain objectivity and neutrality, in their day-to-day lives of mediating peace between planets.

And learning to "let go of your attachments when the time comes" is part of that training. But it is something that takes discipline and time, and thus the child needs to be young enough to develop this skill. Otherwise, they end up like Anakin, who always struggled to properly learn it and eventually was doomed by his greed.

This being part of Lucas narrative is also evidenced that in his earlier plans for the Sequel trilogy, he'd have Luke train children, not adults like he does in the EU.

"Luke is trying to restart the Jedi. He puts the word out, so out of 100,000 Jedi, maybe 50 or 100 are left. The Jedi have to grow again from scratch, so Luke has to find two- and three-year-olds, and train them. It’ll be 20 years before you have a new generation of Jedi." The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005, 2020

The EU's retcons of Lucas' narrative:

Now, obviously, the addition of all these rules and other elements such as midi-chlorians... it does something to the older audience. They grew up on the Original Trilogy, dreaming they could be a Jedi too if they just believed enough. Now that bubble is burst.

"Wait, if I'm a Jedi I can't get married?! And I need to be taken in as a toddler, with a certain kind of blood score?! That's bullshit!"

More importantly... it goes against about a decade's worth of established EU lore (which Lucas never factored into his storytelling)!

So what does Lucasfilm Licensing do? They go with it.

They take these "weird" rules the older audience and authors don't like, and retcon a new narrative around them to ensure both the books and the new films all stay canon within the EU own continuity.

George Lucas revealed new information about his universe in Episode II that ran counter to earlier stories of the Expanded Universe. Among the surprises: the Jedi Order is monastic, with love and marriage forbidden to its members. This would necessitate reforms to the Jedi Code over time to separate the ancient era when Nomi Sunrider was married to a Jedi, seen in the Tales of the Jedi (1993–94) comics, as well as the post-Empire era when Luke Skywalker married Mara Jade in the comic series Union (1999–2000). LucasBooks also needed to create plausible exceptions for Ki-Adi-Mundi, a Jedi Master who had multiple wives in the Prelude to Rebellion comics (1999). - Pablo Hidalgo, The Essential Reader’s Companion, 2012

When it comes to Luke specifically, the narrative becomes:

"Uh... y-yes. The old Jedi Order forbid marriage, only took in toddlers and had a blood pre-requisite... which was weird, wrong, too detached, too systemic, and part of why their Order failed! But, uh, Luke's New Jedi Order allows marriage, unlike his dogmatic predecessors, because anyone can be a Jedi guys!" Hahaha! (fuck's sake George)

But as already explained above: those new rules aren't meant to be perceived negatively. It would make no sense if they were, they're based on Lucas' own values.

You know what it does do, though?

It cements the narrative that Luke is the One True Jedi™, who rejected the dogmatic teachings to forge a new path forward.

That's not the intended narrative of the Original Trilogy, nor the six-film saga as a whole.

If you've made it this far in the post (congratulations) and are interested to read another all-encompassing post about that, you can check out the link below :)

[soltwent]

LOATHING YOU | vi arcane

Highland Parks keeps its secrets sealed — what happens there, stays there. You’re a seasoned FBI agent on New Jersey’s top crime-solving team, known for getting things done. Your partner, Violet West, is just as sharp — maybe sharper. The rivalry is real, the bond even more so. Together, you’re unstoppable. Apart? Something’s missing.

🔍 ONE SHOT & AU | 18+

inaccurate descriptions of profession (I’m not a professional), slow-burn, eventual sex, modern fbi!au, sub!reader, dom!vi, work rivals, afab reader, reader is an envious overachiever, vi and powder aren’t related (friends), so much banter, spitting, a bit of sexual praise, fingering (r!receiving), pussy eating (r!receiving), crime scenes briefly mentioned, vi’s last name is: west, reader’s last name is “thorne”

15k word-count.

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"Great," you muttered, rolling your eyes at the red light like it had personally offended you. One hand gripped the leather steering wheel, while the other balanced a bagel slathered in thick cream cheese and peppered with everything seasoning. You took a bite, savoring the soft, fresh bread — a far cry from the jaw-breaking bagels they served at the headquarters.

No need to spend the rest of your shift nursing a sore jaw, right?

South Jersey always gave you this weird ghost-town vibe. It was like all the real Jersey energy got stuck up North, and down here? It was all tumbleweeds and out-of-towners. And the drivers? Somehow even worse.

"Dude, go!" you groaned, smacking the horn with your free hand.

The truck in front jolted to life at the sound of your obnoxious horn, hesitating like it couldn't decide if it actually wanted to move. But you were late for work, and patience wasn't exactly on the menu today. The light had barely turned green when the Ford finally screeched forward, turning right without so much as a flick of its blinker.

Not even surprised.

Okay, maybe calling this place a 'ghost town' was a bit dramatic, but it wasn't exactly buzzing with life either. A population of five thousand? It wasn't tiny, but small enough that you pretty much knew everyone, or at least recognized their faces.

You rip off another chunk of your breakfast, chewing thoughtfully as you kept her eyes on the road ahead.

The headquarters sat smack in the middle of town, like the town's claim to fame. Not that it had much else going for it, anyway. The place was known for one thing and one thing only: a team of agents who dealt with crime and shady stuff, navigating the waters of illegal activities with professional ease.

And you were one of them. FBI agent — living the dream. Except for mornings like this, you weren’t so sure. Some days you questioned all of it. Why didn't you go for Wall Street like every other uptight, middle-aged guy who loves his over priced suits and has a receding hairline? But, of course, you were not a man. And would never be a man. So, that was that, unfortunately.

Other days though? Absolutely loved it. The thrill, the purpose. It kept you going.

You slammed your car door shut, the headlights flickering as if saying goodbye. Your boots clicked on the pavement as you tossed her brown paper bag with trash into a nearby bin, finishing off the last bite of the bagel while juggling your bag and keys in one hand.

Thorne. Not exactly a name that struck fear into anyone's heart. You were, after all, everything someone would want in a woman: totally normal. And boring as hell.

"G'morning," you called out, voice rippling through the main office full of her co-workers as you scanned your ID and pressed the door open with your forearm. Inside, it was warmer — nothing fancy, just your typical government building. Functional, plain, and definitely not the kind of place that got decorated for Thanksgiving.

November in Jersey wasn't exactly charming. Sure, it had its cozy moments but it was mostly cold, wet, and kinda depressing. You shrugged off her trench coat, and tossed your bag onto the desk, just as Jayce swiveled around in his stool, that annoying smirk plastered across his face.

"Wow. You're late," he teased, his eyes darting to the clock behind her.

"Like, late-late. Late as hell."

You then shot him a look, knowing full well that you was over half an hour late. Unlike everyone else who was seated and working as usual.

"You think I don't know that? I got caught up in traffic," you say, the lie slipping out as easily as it always did on mornings like these. The truth? There was almost never traffic in Highland Parks. Maybe during the holidays or when something big was going on, but never on a random weekday morning.

You started unloading your personal bag, pulling out the essentials: a still-steaming insulated cup of coffee, pens, some files you’d taken come to look over, and your planner. Everything else was digital of course, but you liked having these things on hand. It just made you feel more grounded.

Jayce raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying her excuse. "Traffic? Don't tell me you're coming down with schizophrenia.”

You then rolled your eyes, brows pinching together. "You don't 'come down' with schizophrenia, Jayce. It's not a cold that comes and goes." You didn't bother looking up at him, already used to the back-and-forth banter. They both were close enough for this to be just another day in the office.

"That still doesn't explain whatever you've got smeared around your mouth," Jayce quipped, pointing at you like he'd just caught you in some criminal act.

You halted, then swiped at your lips, just now realizing the cream cheese from the bagel you were eating earlier had betrayed you. "Shut up."

Jayce spun back around to his dual monitors, both lit up with the usual chaos. One screen was a mess of opened unnamed files, highlighted sections jumping out at him like some kind of fucking neon nightmare. The other? A classified CIA document he probably shouldn't have access to but, hey, Jayce was Jayce. A pain in the ass sure, but damn good at what he did, and you could respect that at least.

You plopped into your chair and rolled it forward, the familiar hum of the workspace coming to life. Resting your head in your hand, and letting out a sigh that felt as if it had been building up for days on end. Sleeping through your alarm again. It was becoming a pattern, and you was starting to seriously think about just camping out here at headquarters.

At least then you wouldn't have to rush to work every other week because of your growing habits.

You glanced around the room. Everyone else was locked in, focused on their screens, their tasks. A hushed few conversations floated in the background — just the usual work chatter between people you’d known for years now. They were solid. Resilient. You felt lucky to be surrounded by a team you could count on, even on days like this where your brain felt like it was running dry.

You wiped away the last remnants of cream cheese from your lips, still mildly annoyed that Jayce had been the only one to point it out. Not that you wanted everyone in the office to make a big deal out of it, but seriously, not one person gave you a heads-up?

Jesus Christ. It was way too early to care about that kind of stuff, especially right now.

Outside, the sky hung heavy with thick clouds, the kind that obviously promised rainfall later — great just what you needed. You moved your hand over the cursor, pulling up the files for the marriage fraud case you’d been slogging through. It was equally as exciting as watching paint dry on a fence. But a job's a job, and no one ever said working for the government was supposed to be fun.

Your eyes scanned the screen, index finger clicking away as you moved through the organized files. Your routine, monotonous. It was keeping your hands busy, at least. If nothing else, the day had nowhere to go but up from here. 

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“The money transferred to the spouse was unlabeled, and we're talking a decent amount. Anywhere from a grand up to five grand. Normally, separate bank accounts wouldn't draw too much attention, but in this case it's a red flag." You say, half to yourself as you rummaged through the stuffed file drawer. One folder was delicately tucked under your chin, held in place as you flipped through files with your manicured fingers. Brows furrowed in concentration as you searched for a similar case.

Tax fraud cases were like the PP&J to your workload, with a few shady marriage fraud scenarios thrown in to mix things up. Sometimes the scandalous ones were entertaining enough to break the pattern, but this one? Torture.

Jayce stood nearby, leaning back against the spruce-wood counter, which was digging into his lower back. He took a slow sip of his iced oat-milk latte, listening to you work and ramble through your day's work. It had been a quiet morning, with nothing dramatic or exciting happening, which should've been a good thing.

Still, it left you with that uneasy feeling — like the calm before a storm.

You were never relaxed for this long. Clocked in for almost three hours and had surprisingly plowed through a solid amount of work, even with a fried brain that was practically begging for a nap. That was another thing you found weird. You were usually a mess by now, half-distracted or complaining about some new crisis.

The files slapped onto the counter with a loud thud as you set them aside, hands brushing together like you were dusting off the whole ordeal. Jayce’s eyes flicked to your bare hands: no ring, no sign of marriage or any serious relationship. You were always all work, never any talk about a significant other or anything personal.

You slowly sighed pushed your hair back from your face, shutting the file cabinet with a firm click and locking it for good measure. Sliding your personal key into your pocket, ready to move on from whatever boring task awaited you next.

"This Wren Staples woman is kind of smart. I mean," Jayce held up a hand before you could even start to question his logic, giving you that familiar look. "I'm not saying it's right, but if someone offered me five grand a month to stay silent and just show up to some fancy business dinners… you wouldn't have to ask me twice."

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but you just stared at him, face scrunched up like you couldn't decide if you were more irritated or confused. Clearly not amused. Jayce let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes like this conversation was nothing but a lost cause. Adjusting his belt, he gave it one last go, this time sounding more defeated than the first time.

"Forget it." He waved it off dismissively, taking a long sip of his drink while you mentally rubbed a hand down your face in pure frustration.

"Yeah, I will forget it," you say dryly. "Because if anyone heard you say that, you'd be stuck at the front desk while a janitor took your position. Or," you added, picking up your files, "you'd just be fired."

Jayce smirked, a dimple creasing his cheek. "You're obsessed with the idea of me getting fired, but who else would have your back when West over here starts breathing down your neck?"

At the mention of West, your mood took a nose-dive. Violet West — the co-worker from the literal pits of hell. If you had to sum her up in three words it, was be easy: haughty, a know-it-all, and self-indulgent.

You’d like to say you didn't hate West, but that would be a lie. And sure, lying wasn't illegal, but pretending to tolerate Violet felt criminal. The woman was all sharp words, choppy hair, and superiority complex wrapped in a suit.

"Yeah, you mean 'she-who-must-not-be-named'?" you mutter as you both walked down the dim hallways, the usual morning light blocked out by the overcast skies. Jayce snorted.

"What? Is she a forbidden topic now, Ms. Thorne?" Jayce raised an eyebrow, teasing as they headed back to the main room. You shot him a long side-glance, silently telling him to knock it off as they neared West's usual... territory.

You scanned your ID at the door, unlocking it with a beep and pushing it open for the both of them. Your expression blank, and voice deadpan.

“Just very, very taboo.”

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You rip a piece of tape off the roll with your teeth, holding it between yours lips for a moment before carefully sticking it onto the document you were patching up. The team had already gone through a ridiculous amount of ink today, and printing another copy of this page would be a waste. A little tape, and it was good as new. Well, good enough. No one would notice unless they were trying to be a detective about it.

Smoothing the tape down with the pad of your thumb, you stood up and pushed your chair back with a small scrape. So far, this week wasn't too bad. It was only Tuesday, but still better than the disaster that was yesterday. Not that it mattered much — work was work, and that was that.

"Lunch started ten minutes ago,"

You turned to see Mel, stirring honey into her ginger tea, the spoon gently clinking against the glass. The smell hit you, and seconds in you were already fighting the urge to grimace. Tea wasn't your thing. It always left this weird aftertaste, like lukewarm juice that had been forgotten in a car on a hot day. Gross.

Mel wasn't bad, though. Laid-back, easy to deal with, which was more than you could say about most people at the HQ. In your mind, everyone had something annoying about them, and you weren’t shy about digging for it. Nobody's perfect, why pretend?

You laid your stack of papers down, giving Mel a tight, thin-lined smile with a small shrug. "Who else is gonna organize our cases by date, importance, and agent?"

"You do know there are six other people working in this office, right?" Mel raised an eyebrow, amused but not surprised by your martyr complex.

You knew you were not technically responsible for everything. You weren’t dense. But every time someone else tried to handle the file-work, things ended up in a chaotic mess, and that drove you crazy. You’d rather just do it on your own, your way, even if it meant taking on more. Loosening your tie, slipping a finger into the knot and giving it a tug as you got back to sorting through the paperwork.

Policy guides? Tossed onto the pile on her left. Investigation files? Those got dropped into a drawer with a firm hip-check to shut it. Personnel records? Neatly tucked into a black folder. You had a system, and it worked.

"Exactly," the words came out as a drawl, not really in the mood for chit-chat as you worked through the stack. You still needed to collect some files, but that could wait until later, maybe even tomorrow. The week had been more relaxed since most of the tasks were in-office, which was honestly a relief. The days when public affairs or training sessions were on the agenda? Those were the ones that pushed you to the edge of madness.

As you started to walk away, Mel called after you, "Tell Jayce his phone's rung fifteen times in the past twenty minutes!"

Of course it had. Jayce avoided work calls like the plague.

You shut the door behind you and slipped a hand into your right pocket, pulling out your cellphone. It was mostly your work phone — you kept your personal life strictly separate. The idea of mixing the two was a disaster waiting to happen. Scrolling through your contacts, you found the number you were searching for, and tapped it. You needed to update the attorney general. Your boots clicked softly against the floor while stroding down the hallway, phone pressed to your ear.

It rang a couple of times before a voice answered. "FBI Legal Division."

You inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly to gather your thoughts before responding. Tone direct, professional. "Thorne speaking. Just calling to update you. We've covered all files and documents this past week. Fingerprinting is being handled by Shimes, and the lab services are currently in progress. Everything else looks good for now. If anything changes, I'll let you know as soon as possible."

You kept it short and to the point, just the way it needed to be.

A satisfied hum came through the line. "Great work, I'll review the details and let you know if I need anything else."

You thanked your attorney, lowering the phone as you pushed open the doors to the lounge. You had about twenty minutes to eat which was more than enough, though the thought of food didn't exactly thrill you. When your mind was full of work, your stomach didn't have room to complain. Sliding your cellular device into your pocket, you noticed a few co-workers giving you a glance.

"Where've you been?" Powder asked, nosy as ever. Powder Shimes was hunched over, chewing on what looked like the remains of a sad, microwaved breakfast burrito —probably from hours ago— and washing it down with a can of Dr. Pepper that looked far too room temperature. Was that ketchup on her burrito?

Ekko tilted his head, giving her a once-over. "Probably the HQ. She looks pretty pissed."

You rolled your eyes and yanked open the lounge fridge. Taking your time to riffle through the bagged lunches, each marked with large initials to avoid any office food theft drama. You grabbed your pre-prepped Caesar salad —the one you didn't have time for the day before— and a small bottle of water.

"Where's Jayce?" you asked, settling into a chair a seat away from the two of them. You ignored their commentary about your supposed "pissed off" look. It wasn't like you were mad, but your resting face had always given off those vibes. "Matter of fact, where's everyone at?"

Powder and Ekko were always together, so their presence wasn't exactly surprising. Mel was eating at her desk while taking phone calls. Jayce was MIA for reasons unknown, even though he was usually first to hog the entire couch in the break lounge. Caitlyn popped in sometimes after training, but you hadn't really expected to see her today.

You popped the lid off the salad and grabbed a plastic fork from the tin holder nearby. As for West? Well, she wasn't here either, which was a relief. Lunch without Violet West around was a small victory in itself. It wasn't like seeing her would brighten your day. If anything, the distance was a blessing.

You stabbed at the Caesar salad, spearing a few leaves and bringing them to your mouth. A quiet lunch was all you really needed right now.

"Caitlyn went to grab some stuff from Home Depot. Something about the sink breaking. Something with the piping. I don't know," Ekko shrugged, digging into his half-full peanut butter cup ice cream with a plastic spoon. Meanwhile, Powder took another horrific bite of her ketchup-slathered burrito, opening yet another packet of ketchup like it was a delicacy.

You uncomfortably clenched your jaw, doing your absolute best to ignore Powder’s obnoxious eating habits. She gulped down her food with an unnecessary loud sigh and crushed her soda can with a loud crack. "Like Ekko said, Cait’s at the store. Jayce? Off doing whatever, said he'd be back after lunch. Vi?" Powder raised her hands once mentioning the girl in mock surrender, a crumpled napkin in her palm. "No idea where she is, and honestly? Don't care."

You picked at the chicken in the Caesar salad, chewing slowly. You really needed to up your protein intake, especially with how grueling training days had been. But Caesar salads? The only kind you could enjoy without wanting to throw the bowl out the window. "So, it's just you two?"

"Yup," Ekko confirmed, licking his spoon clean.

Spectacular. Stuck with these two for the next fifteen minutes. Not that long, but in moments like this, you found herself wondering how they were the same people she did real-world investigations with. Ekko, a grown man, devouring ice cream like a five-year-old, and Powder, well.

"That's disgusting, Shimes," you deadpanned, eyeing the ungodly amount of ketchup Powder was consuming. Ekko barely stifled a laugh, grinning against his spoon. You rubbed your temples, trying to ease the headache that had started creeping in. Who knew the break room could actually make things worse?

Powder scoffed, leaning back in her chair, her work jacket tossed aside. Now just in a wrinkled button-down, she looked far too comfortable for someone whose eating habits were under fire.

"Like I care. That was delicious. I'd give it like an eight out of ten — only because it was kinda cold in the center."

That earned a grimace from you. You did not need to know how cold her burrito was or how much she enjoyed it in great detail. As much as Jayce could be a pain, you’d trade this scenery for his company any day. At least Jayce wasn't… this.

Just as you were starting to imagine a more peaceful lunch break, a gruff female voice broke through your thoughts. "Thanks for saving me a seat."

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor made you freeze. Ekko shot you a knowing look, and Powder’s shitty grin only widened.

"Surprise guest!" Powder announced with a clap, running a hand through her hair like she was prepping a show.

Surprise guest? More like surprise loss of appetite. Because who else would be sitting next to you, shoulder to shoulder, than Violet West herself. No invitation, no polite "is this seat taken?" just West, plopping down like she owned the place.

Your fork hovered above your salad, chewing coming to an abrupt stop. You stared down at the greens, the moment of peace you had been savoring now utterly ruined.

You've got to be kidding me.

────────────────────────

Three shots rang out. You adjusted your earplugs with one hand and tightened your grip on the Glock 19M with the other. The gloves were pulled snug over your hands, and you squeezed the gun a little harder than usual. You didn't bother with safety glasses during training. What was the point? You didn't wear them on the job.

Agents like you often practiced shooting all kinds of targets — stationary, moving, from cover to cover, on the move. The whole deal. Training days like these were crucial for staying sharp, and even though they ran these drills once a week, you always tried to push yourself, especially with your Glock. The gun had a way of making your skin crawl every time you fired it, but you had to be good with it. You hadn't had to use it much in the field, thankfully, but when you did, it never felt great.

"Not bad, Thorne," Caitlyn muttered as she patted your wrist, adjusting it slightly and motioning for you to fix your posture. You hadn't even realized you were holding the gun so close to your body until she gave that look. A lump of saliva slid down your throat and you nodded. Caitlyn was a solid instructor. She didn't sugarcoat anything, if you were doing something wrong, she told you straight up, step by step, how to fix it.

You deeply appreciated that.

The days rotated every week. Monday meant outdoor training, Tuesday indoor, then back outdoors on Wednesday, and so on from there. Weeks of drills. Not your personal favorite, but it was part of the job, and you had to be ready to reach for your waist when things went sideways.

You bit your cheek, thinking about how unpredictable this town was. The citizens too. Not that you were any better — you weren't exactly a poster child for predictability yourself. You let out a breath, firmly holding the handle of the Glock as if it could settle your nerves.

Caitlyn handed you a pair of safety glasses, breaking your focus. "You need to wear these. None of that 'I'm too good for this' nonsense. If you lose an eye because you're being stubborn, you're not touching a firearm again. Take them."

Irritable but not wrong. You weren’t offended. Rumor had it someone lost an eye once because they ignored safety, though that was before her time here at the HQ.

"Thanks," you say, slowly taking the glasses from her hand. She stomped off, her heavy boots thudding against the ground as her vest shifted with each step. You put on the glasses and popped your knuckles, already feeling that strain in your hands that would stick until the end of the month.

Nearby, Powder was lounging with her legs spread, while Jayce gnawed on a marshmallow-studded protein bar. Powder’s face was slick with sweat as she gulped water, some strands of her azure hair sticking to her forehead. Ekko was swapping out his gun, peeling off his thick vector gloves.

You placed your weapon down and rolled your tense shoulders, feeling a knot in your neck release. The relief was short-lived, though, she glanced over at Caitlyn, who was now standing in front of West. Another knot formed in your gut, this one a mix of annoyance and envy. You clenched her jaw unconsciously.

Of course, Caitlyn was probably praising the hell out of West. She was the best with the weapons out of everyone, aside from Caitlyn herself. Powder was more into forensic work, Ekko handled lab services, and Jayce was a crime-solving machine, and you?

Just... good. At a little bit of everything. You were organized, which was great, but that was also Mel’s job. A deep inhale filled your lungs, and you sighed heavily. You were useful — a great help, a mix of skills, but nothing extraordinary.

Ekko’s voice snapped you back to reality. "Dude, instead of choking back a hundred protein bars, try starting with eggs in the morning. Those are good, but God damn."

He was talking to Jayce, who was hunched over, elbows on his knees. You resisted the urge to critique his posture. You didn't, but that was primarily because it would make you a hypocrite. Caitlyn had just corrected yours. You slipped off your own gloves, then decided to stand and stretch your legs, feeling more awake on your feet.

"Eggs are nasty as hell," Jayce waved Ekko off, and he shrugged, half agreeing as he lazily sipped his water.

"Cottage cheese? Tofu? Greek yogurt?" Ekko continued, trying to offer solid protein options, but Jayce’s chewing slowed at his suggestions. Even though Ekko’s advice came from someone who clearly knew what he was talking about, Jayce’s eyes narrowed, his tanned skin glistening under the fluorescent lights.

A firm smack on your back snapped you upright before you could even think about it, body reacting on instinct. Caitlyn’s voice echoed in your mind, reminding you about your posture, and for a split second, you wondered if you'd hunched over under the weight of your responsibilities again. But when you turned to see who had hit you, it wasn't Caitlyn and her sharp, fine eyebrows. Instead, you were met by a different pair — thick and scarred along the edges.

West.

Your stomach dropped. Caitlyn, you respected. Caitlyn had the right to correct your posture, whether in training or in office. Violet, on the other hand, had not. Jayce could get away with being a little touchy sometimes, and Mel, if it was educational, but Violet? No. Never.

"You aren't a Pilates teacher," you say in a calm, yet perfectly passive-aggressive tone. Your brows furrowed as you tried to smooth out the back of the suit jacket you had on, trying to ease any trace of Violet’s unwanted touch. In another timeframe, you might've smacked her hand away, but today you settled for being politely firm.

Violet, of course, gave you another pat, this one being more condescending than the first. "Another profession? I'd be making bank. Every housewife would be in my classes," she replied, her voice smug and dripping with fake charm.

Your skin prickled with irritation, patience running thin by the second. You would've given everything for earplugs at the moment. The sound of Violet’s voice was enough to make your head throb. Meanwhile, Jayce, ever the opportunist, chose this exact moment to stay silent, focusing more on his marshmallow protein bar than on you, who was clearly about to bite down hard enough to crack a molar.

"You'd be making below minimum wage. No one would willingly attend those classes," you dragged out, voice flat and uninterested, though the tension in your jaw spoke volumes. Violet didn't have to do much to get under your skin, and honestly, she didn't even have to try. She was the walking embodiment of something that made your veins itch.

"Realistically, that is."

Violet studied your face, noticing the way your expression had tightened, a visible vein of pure irritation. It wasn't like you abhorrd Violet — if you did, you would've moved locations a long time ago. But there was a fine line between tolerance and whatever the hell this was. Tolerable, in your world, meant zero contact. Silence. Absolute distance. And right now, West was far too close for comfort.

"Realistically, a business run by someone confident in their growth is more likely to succeed than someone who's just a follower."

Violet’s smug response hit you like a match to gasoline. You could feel the heat of your frustration under your skin, a familiar sensation that always seemed to bubble up during your rare, but tense interactions. Most days, you two kept your distance, sticking to cold, judgmental glances. But on days like this, when they were forced into the same space, it was inevitable snarky exchanges, backhanded compliments, and that thick, suffocating air of competition.

You bit back the flood of insults threatening to slip out. Pressing your chapped lips together, irritated by the dry, rough feeling but too focused on the current situation to care. "You can't speak from experience," you finally muttered, knowing full well that it was a weak retort. You weren’t in the mood to come up with anything smart. Keeping it safe was the safest bet for your sanity right now.

Violet, naturally, didn't miss a beat. "I'll have that privilege one day." she flicked her ID badge with a cocky flourish, the engraved letters of her last name catching in the light. Her face was twisted into a self-satisfied smirk, the kind that made you want to roll her eyes so hard they'd get stuck.

There was nothing motivating about Violet’s arrogance. Only aggravating.

You cleared your throat, forcing a thin smile.

"Fun talking to you, as always," you said, determined to get the last word in, as usual. Your exchanges were like a never-ending thumb war, both of you pushing for dominance without truly getting anywhere. Two years of this, and absolutely nothing had changed.

Violet smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "I'm flattered, but I can't help wondering if you're considering stand up comedy for those with lobotomies." She punctuated the remark with a firm hand on your shoulder.

Your stomach churned at the touch, and you shrugged off Violet’s hand like it was a spider crawling on you. Resisting the urge to vomit right then and there, you reached down for your Glock, thumb brushing over the magazine release as it could somehow end this insufferable conversation.

You needed to reload, which at least gave you a reason to focus on something else.

"Be my guest," you said flatly, eyes fixated on the gun, not on the smug asshole hovering over you.

Her lips quirked again in amusement, but she stayed quiet, watching as you methodically reloaded the 19M, clicking the slide back in place with more force than necessary. You were hyper-focused now, anything to block out Violet’s presence.

You slipped the gloves back on, fastening the Velcro tightly, mentally preparing yourself to get back to training.

"Training's over for the day, you know," Violet said, casually reminding you. She was annoyingly familiar with your habits on the range, probably because she always kept an eye on you, just waiting to see if you messed up.

You didn't bother looking up. "I'm aware. I prefer extra training."

"You hate training," Violet replied, her tone laced with smug knowingness. She clearly enjoyed pushing your buttons, and right now, you kinda wound tighter than the Velcro on your gloves.

"Like you'd know know." you simply say, cocking your head to crack your neck.

Your raised the Glock and fired at the nearest dummy, ending the conversation with a bang.

────────────────────────

The sweet relief of coffee never failed to satisfy Violet, even on days when everything else seemed to fall apart. She let her calloused fingers linger on the coffee maker as it hummed, her other hand twiddling a packet of sweetener absentmindedly. With nothing pressing on her mind or plate today, she pulled the pitcher from the machine and dragged her New York embroidered mug forward. The coffee poured steadily, just below the rim, and she tore the sweetener packet, dumping it in with practiced precision.

But before she could savor a sip, her forearm nudged open the lounge door, and — splash. Hot coffee cascaded over her freshly pressed suit, drenching her work pants and top in a scalding, sticky mess.

What—the fuck?

Violet's eyes slowly drifted down to the damage, the burning liquid stinging her skin beneath the fabric.

Her grip tightened on the mug as she looked up, fury already simmering behind her eyes.

And there, frozen in shock with wide eyes, was none other than you. Of course. Violet could see the words forming in your head before they even left your mouth; you never missing an opportunity to make things worse.

"Watch where you're going next time," you grumbled, tone dismissive, like the whole thing was somehow Violet’s fault. You had also whispered something under your breath, and it couldn't have been good. The coffee dripped silently between them, pooling on the floor and marking its territory on Violet’s ruined clothes. She had managed to get through the rain this morning without so much as a spot, but your clumsiness had managed to wreck her in mere seconds.

Violets’s scarred upper lip twitched in irritation. Was she being blamed? Really? "What are you in hurry for, the last few munchkins in the fridge? You don't exactly look busy, Thorne.”

Your eyebrows drew down slowly, eyes narrowing in offended disbelief. Violet might've found it amusing to mess with you in any other circumstance, but right now? Right now, it really irked her. She was being blamed for this, and she wasn't going to let it slide.

"If you've got time to throw insults, why don't you go and do Mel’s job again? After all, you went to school for years to play assistant at headquarters, right?" Violet’s words were sharp, deliberately cutting. It was a bitchy move, but she was indeed not in the mood.

You’d had been riding her nerves all week.

Monday, you’d shredded Violet’s files by "mistake," chalking it up to be tired. Tuesday, you’d nearly wrecked her Glock 17M and tried to convince Caitlyn it was just a mix-up. Wednesday, there were dirty looks and backhanded compliments in the middle of a meeting. And yesterday? You’d almost derailed an entire investigation with your impatience.

Two years of this, and it was finally pushing Violet to her limit. It wasn't just competitive banter anymore — it was real animosity. Violet had always tried to keep things light, a little teasing here and there, but you? You downright hated her or something, and it was getting mutual.

You, ever so unfazed, didn't even glance at the mess you’d made. "Who pissed in your coffee this morning?" you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And don't worry about how I handle my tasks around here. Why don't you go cozy up to Caitlyn while I keep things easy and simple for you? Sound good?"

Violet clenched her jaw, her fingers tight around the now empty mug. This woman...

"You've got a lot of nerve," Violet snapped, her voice low but sharp, each word deliberate. "I don't have an issue with you, but for some reason, you're always trying to get on my bad side. I try to be halfway decent with you, but you always find a way to ruin that too." Violet stepped closer, exaggerating her words, hoping it would hit you harder. For someone who walks in heeled boots everyday, the shorter woman still hadn't quite figured out how to own them.

Before you could fire back, Violet cut you off.

"And if you want to accuse me of cozying up to Caitlyn, then take a good look at yourself, Thorne. Your surname fits you precisely. You're like a thorn to someone's side.“

You let out a sharp huff, clearly caught off guard by Violet's sudden willingness to stand her ground. You weren’t used to being confronted, especially by someone you considered to be an annoyance. Violet could see the gears turning, the effort you put into keeping your voice steady as she shot back.

"At least I have a good relationship with everyone. You pick and choose who you talk to. You're not down to earth. You're just a shitty person."

You felt your blood simmering, but you kept your expression neutral, even as the insult landed. By habit loosening your tie, fingers trembling just slightly with adrenaline, and tossed your now-empty mug into the trash bin by the door without a second thought.

The satisfying crack of glass echoed through the room, but she didn't care.

Not about the mug, not about your words. Not now.

She brushed past you, not sparing a second glance as she headed toward the restroom. The coffee was already soaking into her clothes, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to her skin. She peeled off her ruined pullover as she walked, letting it fall down her arms before she entered the bathroom, where she was greeted by her reflection.

Violet stared at herself for a moment, hair falling messily over one eye. It had grown longer than she liked, brushing just past her nose slightly. She pushed it away impatiently and leaned over the counter, scrubbing at her button-down with frustration. It was practically see through at the stain.

"Come on," she muttered through gritted teeth, working at the larger stains with more force than necessary. The top had cost her over fifty bucks, and the thought of it being ruined because of your clumsiness made her blood boil. If it had been some cheap shirt, she wouldn't have lost her cool like that, but it wasn't.

"Fucking come out, Jesus." Violet’s voice cracked slightly as she scrubbed harder, knowing full well she was only making it worse. But she couldn't walk back into the HQ with this mess on her. Not after what had just happened. She wasn't about to give you the satisfaction of seeing her like this.

As the stains slowly faded, her mind raced. Were you insecure? Violet didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care. The woman was a confusing mess of contradictions, and Violet had no desire to decipher her. All she knew was that you got under her skin, and made her head throb with frustration. An impatient groan escaped her lips as she managed to get some of the deeper stains out, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Violet stared at the shirt, feeling like the whole situation was ridiculous. And yet, here she was, scrubbing out coffee stains and stewing over someone who should've been nothing more than an office inconvenience.

The urge to tell you off bubbled up again, but Violet bit it back. Sure, she was pissed, but wasn't trying to escalate this any further. She had done the right thing by standing up for herself, like anyone else would. There was no point in pushing things to the point of no return, where they might both end up fired and jobless.

She slung her ruined pullover over her shoulder and walked out of the women's restroom, her steps heavier with the weight of her lingering frustration.

She wasn't about to let it go, not completely, but she wasn't going to make it worse either.

If nothing else, she thought, I'm not worse than her. That was for sure. Violet had rattled her pride a little with the teasing, but it wasn't like she'd gone overboard. In fact, if you had any sense of humor, they could've had some fun with the back-and-forth. But no, the hostility from you felt different, like it was more personal. You ribbed Ekko and Powder too at times, but with Violet, it felt deeper, like there was something else fueling it.

As she exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping, she made her way down the hallways of the HQ, her mind still buzzing with the aftershocks of their argument.

"That was my favorite shirt," she muttered under her breath, glancing down at the faint coffee stains that still clung to the fabric.

────────────────────────

You grimace, hesitating before fully letting your eyes take in the crime scene photos clipped to the case folder in front of you. One side is filled with notes detailing the body discovered, the evidence collected by officers and K-9 units, while the other holds the photographs. It’s never easy looking at the dead, but this case in particular —one involving children and animals— settles like a weight in your stomach.

Just suck it up and focus.

Jayce is out today, which means his ridiculous pile of files is now your responsibility. For someone who jokes around constantly and eats while reviewing these kind of things, he’s got a stomach of fucking steel. You, on the other hand, find yourself letting out a quiet, uneasy strings of grunts as you shuffle a set of dated photos into an envelope hastily. You barely register your own signature as you scrawl it across the front before tossing it into the small brown box beside you leveled on Jayce’s chair.

The barely touched coffee on your desk doesn’t help your mood. Mel had been nice enough to bring drinks from the local coffee shop for everyone, but yours? It tasted watered down, and the undissolved brown sugar left a grainy texture that made it hard to enjoy. You had set it aside, already planning to let it get cold so you could toss it out without feeling guilty.

Bad coffee is worse than no coffee. You’d rather suffer through exhaustion than force yourself to drink something made by a barista who clearly didn’t know a basic coffee rule: to stir the damn sugar while it’s hot.

You bite the inside of your cheek, inhaling deeply, forcing yourself back into work mode.

Outside, thunder grumbles in the distance, and the printers rattle beside you, filling the silence of an otherwise empty space. The office is quieter than usual, the seat next to you noticeably unoccupied. Rainy Novembers are typical in Highland Parks, but in all honesty you don’t have much of an opinion on the weather. You spend most of your time indoors anyway.

Working.

Your stomach interrupts your train of thought, rumbling loudly in protest. You unconsciously glance at the digital clock near Jayce’s empty desk, its red numbers flickering back at you. Lunch passed a while ago. Not that it mattered. After spending hours handling Jayce’s case files, your appetite had somewhat disappeared. Your meal, along with your Diet Coke, was probably still sitting untouched in the lounge fridge.

Powder and Ekko are out training one-on-one with Caitlyn. Not your business, but you’re curious anyway. You always are. Why didn’t you ever get one-on-one training? Everyone else did.

Are you lacking something?

You chew on your thumbnail, the thought making an unwelcome home in your head. This always happened.

A sudden tap on the top of your head yanks you from your inner turmoil. You glance over your shoulder, expecting Viktor, the guy who fixes the printers and every other broken thing in HQ. Jayce is good friends with him, so, you are as well in that case. But instead, it’s Mel. Your shoulders loosen slightly. You’ve been tense all week.

“Not exactly the best way to get my attention, Mel,” you say, stacking some of the finished files on your desk, head still heavy with lingering doubt.

“Lighten up a bit. You’re such a pessimist,” Mel hums, dropping the stack of documents onto your desk. “You should go eat. I saw you skipped lunch. Plus, Jayce can finish the rest tomorrow. You’ve done more than enough.”

You exhale, considering her words. Why didn’t you just work a role like Mel? She had a clear job, an essential purpose. Meanwhile, you felt like you spent most of your time quietly filling in the gaps — like a seat filler, temporary, replaceable. All that school for what?

A stubborn voice in your head protests the comment about your pessimism, but your hunger wins out. You push back your chair and stand, rolling your shoulders to shake off the stiffness.

“You can take the file box then. I’ll be back.” Grabbing your ID lanyard, you stride out of the office, making your way through the mostly empty space.

The walk down the same hallway you’d been pacing for two years somehow felt longer every day. Realistically, nothing had changed. It was the same damn stretch of floor, the same fluorescent lights buzzing above. But lately, the need to move your feet, to just get to where you were going, had started to feel like a chore.

You had three keys to this building: one for the main office where the bulk of the work happened, another for the lounge, and the third just to get into the damn building in the first place. Underwhelming. Your pay was the same as Jayce’s, even Ekko’s. You were making more than both Powder and Mel combined.

So why did it still feel like you were scraping for something?

You pushed open the lounge door with your elbow, only to immediately regret it.

Violet.

A grumble of annoyance rumbled in the back of your throat as she turned her head to glance over her shoulder at you. Her cool, ashy-blue eyes flicked to you for only a moment, but it was enough to make your skin prickle uncomfortably.

It felt like every time a coworker looked at you, it was out of pity, not respect. As if all the work you put in was just something to be tolerated, not acknowledged. The thought made your heeled boots feel loose, like you were one wrong step away from rolling your ankle under the weight of Violet’s occasional, unimpressed glances.

Why was she even here?

Yes, this was the employee lounge, but she never lingered here long. And yet, here she was. You weren’t even sure if she had food, and she definitely wasn’t making coffee.

You ignored her gaze, forcing yourself toward the fridge. Your hands were already clammy before you saw her, but now they were straight up sweaty. The cool air from the fridge was a small relief as you reached for your neatly labeled chicken and lettuce wrap, along with your untouched sealed Diet Coke.

It had been this way ever since the coffee incident. Ever since you’d —“accidentally”— ruined an entire month’s worth of her research.

West had actually stopped making jokes around you.

At first, that satisfied you. But now? Now, it made your gut feel like a crumpled-up sticky note.

Had you actually liked the attention? No. Absolutely not. Jayce spoke to you every day, cracked his ridiculous jokes around you, so it wasn’t that. And it wasn’t about communication. You and Violet didn’t even work in the same department. You weren’t exactly friends, either. Strictly coworkers. Two people who knew just enough about each other’s flaws to be annoying and pick at them.

So why was she bothering you so much?

Your flimsy fingers tightened around your wrap as Violet finally looked away. But she didn’t move. Didn’t eat. Didn’t make coffee. Just existed. Silently.

Judgment was awful, but silent judgment? That was even worse.

“Can you quit watching me like that?” you snapped before you could stop yourself, your voice sharp with the bitterness that always seemed to linger between you two. “It’s weird. And aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Violet barely reacted, she just blinked at you, unimpressed.

“Lunch ended three hours ago,” you added, “unless you’re digging for Caitlyn’s crumbs.”

Your jaw clenched as you unwrapped your lunch, your teeth sinking slightly into your torn up bottom lip. Uncalled for. You knew that. And Violet knew exactly how to weaponize the moment.

“Thanks for the reminder, Thorne,” she said, her voice steady but laced with something biting. “But I actually don’t have to make that effort. Cait pays attention to me without me having to act like some crazy addict who thrives off her validation.”

Your fingers stilled.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t said worse to her before. The difference? Violet never hid behind her words. She always said them looking you dead in the eye, unwavering, direct.

The comment shouldn’t have hit a soft spot, but it did.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to play it off, pretending it didn’t get under your skin.

“You know me so well,” you muttered with a strained chuckle, though your jaw ached with the effort of keeping it together.

Because deep down, you knew exactly where your problem with Violet had started.

It wasn’t out of nowhere.

You’d been intimidated by her from the moment she got the job — without even needing an interview. To make it worse: she made more than you right off the bat. Caitlyn warmed up to her almost immediately. It wasn’t like Violet had ever rubbed it in your face, but envy was something you never handled well.

Do this better. Do that better. Finish this. Try harder. Ask to do more.

Violet ran a hand down the front of her work suit to smooth out the cotton. Ever since the coffee incident, she’d switched to wearing black button-downs under her blazers, likely to avoid another purposeful coffee disaster.

“You don’t exactly make it hard to read you,” she mused, her voice irritatingly casual. “Especially when you have a vein bulging from your forehead every time you see me.”

Your first instinct was to snap back. Who wouldn’t be irritated when you think everyone is your friend? But you knew better. And honestly? You didn’t have the energy for another round of verbal sparring this week either.

Jayce was out. Your workload was heavier than usual. You hadn’t had coffee, and you hadn’t eaten all day.

So, instead of feeding into it, you focused on your food. You took a bite from the edge of your wrap, careful not to let the contents spill from the sides. It hurt to open your mouth too wide. Your lips had been painfully chapped for a month now. February was creeping closer, and with it came dry skin, exhaustion, and the growing desire to sleep at your desk instead of work.

Your bottom lip had split more times than you could count in the past week, but you hadn’t done much to fix it either. No time for chapstick when you could barely keep up with everything else.

Violet had noticed.

You always got like this in the winter; pushier, more irritable. You weren’t as unbearable when the weather warmed up, but your attitude toward her never thawed either. You were always on edge around her, always competing, always watching.

She had caught you staring the day Caitlyn pulled her aside to discuss a raise, the same day you had taken on extra side gigs and hadn’t gotten so much as a mention. She had seen you fist your hair at your desk after downing your fifth cup of coffee. She had been on the receiving end of your little retaliations, the way you’d ruin her things in ways so small they could almost be called accidents.

Violet had always noticed.

“Blood with a side of chicken wrap,” she mused lightly, resting her hip against the counter.

Your chewing slowed for a beat before resuming, brows furrowing just slightly. You still curled and coated your lashes every morning for work with an older tube of mascara you couldn’t seem to let go, still maintained some things about yourself, but you weren’t oblivious. You knew you looked rough lately.

“You seriously need chapstick,” Violet continued, eyeing your lips with something between amusement and concern. “That’s gotta hurt.”

It was the first semi-joke she’d made around you since November. It wasn’t even really a joke, but it was… easier to hear than the usual biting remarks.

You swallowed your food and huffed. “My lips are none of your business, nor your concern. I’m applying chapstick just fine. It’s allergies.”

Wrong.

Allergies were the least of your problems. You had been biting your lips raw and were probably vitamin deficient in more ways than one. Even Jayce had commented on it the other day, asking if you were cosplaying as a grumpy vampire or some other nonsense.

Violet scoffed. “Are you looking to eat your lunch or the skin off your lips?” She rubbed her own lips absently, likely remembering the thin scar that stretched across her upper lip from training. “You’re running on nothing but caffeine. Have you forgotten what real food tastes like?”

You scowled, cutting her off before she could continue. “Why are you in here?”

Violet blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the abrupt change in conversation.

“I mean, I could be just as annoying, but I’m not in the mood, West.”

She raised an eyebrow, then shook her head with a small smirk, arms crossing over her chest. Your eyes hesitated for just a second, catching the way the layers of her uniform —button-down and blazer— did nothing to hide the toned muscle beneath them.

What kind of moron actually wore both their blazer inside the HQ?

“Why?” she taunted. “Because you’re finally getting a taste of your own medicine? Or because Jayce isn’t here today to defend you?”

Your jaw clenched.

“Are you fucking serious?” you huffed, your voice laced with disbelief. “You think Jayce not being here affects how I feel?”

The defensiveness in your tone was embarrassingly obvious, and Violet knew it. Her lips quirked upward, her smirk deepening.

“Well,” she dragged the word out in fake thought, pursing her lips in a way that made your eye twitch. “Can you blame me? Your only real friend isn’t here, and now you’re just moping around HQ. Moping around with your head down, and your ass up.”

“Do not say that,” you snapped, your irritation spiking.

Violet grinned like she had just won a prize. “Really? You draw the line at a simile?”

Your brows furrowed. “A what? That’s a metaphor, you slow beet.”

Violet should have been offended. I mean, you had just called her slow, but instead, she froze for half a second, her expression shifting to something almost amused.

“…Did you just call me a beet?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “A beet-root. For a choppy haircut, you’d think you’d at least change the color to redeem yourself. You look like a damn beet.”

Violet’s lips twisted into a half-smirk, half-grin.

“Wow, Reader,” she murmured. “Did you just make a joke?”

Your stomach dropped.

Your pride plummeted.

She thought you were joking. Violet —Violet fucking West— thought you had joked with her?

The realization made your grip tighten around your soda can, your lips pressing inward as if disgusted by yourself. You wanted to grab the words back, throw them out, insist that you meant that as an insult, not a joke.

But you couldn’t.

And that grin on her face?

It made you want to rip your hair out.

“Never-fucking-mind.”

────────────────────────

Violet undid the cuffs of her button-down, rolling up the sleeves until the fabric no longer restricted her movements. Tattoo work peeking out. The uniform was fine. Professional, sleek, practical, but nobody actually liked wearing it. Not in the HQ.

Across the office, Jayce’s voice rang out, louder than necessary, pulling her attention. She glanced up briefly, watching as he bantered with one of the techs. Jayce was easy to get along with. Smart, good with computers, and a complete slacker when given the chance. She had no issue with him personally. When the two of them worked together, they wasted time more often than not, but when Jayce worked with you? Somehow, he managed to joke around and get things done. Maybe that’s why Caitlyn didn’t mind having his desk right next to yours.

Violet exhaled in amusement but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t in the office much, her job kept her busy elsewhere. Restocking gear, replenishing ammunition, training the interns who wanted to join the department someday. It was a privilege, but it was also pretty exhausting. Still, she knew she was the favorite around here, and that privilege came with its own set of complications.

Caitlyn had once commented on it —on you and her— during a routine weapons inventory.

“Everything good between you and Thorne? You don’t seem close, but your work styles mesh well. You’re both dedicated.”

The statement had been so off-base she almost laughed. Close? Not even remotely. But that wasn’t on Violet.

You had been different lately. More distant.

No spilled espressos on her desk, no mysteriously shredded files, no petty, one-sided beef getting in the way of the workday. Odd.

Then again, you had been odd lately in general.

The banter had lessened. Sure, a few snide remarks here and there, but the tantrums, as Violet fondly called them, had also significantly decreased. She wasn’t sure if she found that concerning or relieving.

Casually, her gaze drifted across the office until it landed on you.

You sat with your legs crossed, the tip of your heeled boot absently twisting under your desk. Your trench coat hung over the back of your chair as it normally did. You only wore it when the building’s heater was busted or if you had gotten caught in the rain.

Pencil skirt. Off-white ironed button-down. Navy tie. Black pantyhose.

Mel didn’t always bother with the extra layers or formalities, but you did. You had to, for some fucking reason.

Violet huffed at the realization. You had fashion preferences, apparently.

Funny. And a little uncanny, imagining you caring about anything other than being annoyed, irritated, or outright pissed. That’s all you were to her: a tightly wound ball of something pent up and ready to just snap.

Though… she did sort of pity you at times. Emphasis on 'at times'.

You turned in your chair, handing Jayce a stack of printed files, speaking lowly to him before refocusing on your own work.

Violet continued watching, still as an observer. Bored. You, Jayce, Mel, and Viktor held the office together while she spent most of her time outside of it. She only came in once a week, just enough to notice that, despite all your efforts, you were stretching yourself too thin.

You made things harder for yourself. She knew that.

Her gaze dropped, almost unconsciously, to your legs.

She blinked.

She had never really looked at you before, not past all the other stuff; the petty rivalry, the constant need to one-up her, the way you made every little thing a competition.

It wasn’t exactly easy to look beyond that.

And yet, she hesitated before glancing back, this time without moving her head, just her eyes.

You weren’t… unattractive.

Her fingers tensed slightly against the armrest of her chair before she shifted, leaning into her palm instead.

You had good facial harmony. Nice skin — tired, sure, but even Jayce had made jokes about you cosplaying a grumpy vampire lately. It was funny, but to you? You were furious, but hey, you started to apply chapstick more often throughout shifts. Your makeup was always neatly applied, and your uniform fit well — not too tight, not too loose.

You also cared about appearances. Not just your own, but others’.

Violet silently grinned at the memory of your voice echoing through the office just a few weeks ago:

“So unprofessional. It’s embarrassing. Don’t wear a badge and walk around in saggy pants. You went to university for what? To not know how to measure your own hips? Gosh.”

You’d aimed it at Jayce after he had opted for a more relaxed fit, but your commentary extended to everyone who slacked off in dress code.

Violet exhaled slowly.

Then, unfortunately, you caught her staring.

Her body tensed as your gaze flickered to hers, and she immediately cleared her throat, shifting to cover her mouth with a closed fist like she had just zoned out. Definitely not like she had just been looking at you for longer than necessary. Longest than she had ever looked at you, really.

You furrowed your brows, shook your head slightly, then returned to work.

Violet sighed, pressing further into her palm.

Her eyes shifted to Mel as she strode across the office, posture perfect, heels clicking at a steady pace, files balanced in one arm. A sweetheart. Objectively, Mel was a beautiful woman, but Violet didn’t know her too well. Certainly not as well as she knew you.

When Mel passed, she caught sight of you again, now looking down at paperwork with those stupid reading glasses perched on your nose. Looking like you were gonna pop a blood vessel.

They looked ridiculous on you, far too big for your face, because Jayce had so helpfully gotten you the wrong size.

“Didn’t know they’d be big on you, man. Relax, relax.”

Indeed, you did not relax. You had thrown a fit.

It was kinda cute.

Violet blinked, her lips parting slightly.

No.

She must be losing her mind. She straightened in her chair, biting the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t blind, she could admit when someone looked good — but this was you.

You, of all people. The epitome of stress and irritation in her damned life. So what if you were pretty? Every woman was pretty in their own way. It didn’t mean anything.

Violet forced her gaze away, focusing on the stack of paperwork she had been handed—a rare task for her, but one she had to do nonetheless. Maybe she was just stressed. Maybe her cycle was about to start. Definitely not you.

────────────────────────

Another week passed. Your workload was heavier than usual, keeping you out of Jayce’s business, out of Mel’s, even out of Viktor’s. Caitlyn had given you a detailed to-do list. You. Not Jayce, not Ekko, not West. Agent Thorne.

You had come into work on Thursday morning already exhausted, having snoozed through all three of your alarms. You almost knew this week was going to end badly. Your track record with jinxing yourself was near flawless. But for once, it didn’t.

Your hands hovered over the case file on your desk. A fresh case. Not one of Jayce’s hand-me-downs, not something already combed through a dozen times. The seal along the side was still intact, a loud, physical reminder that no one had read this yet. Your heartbeat thrummed against your ribs.

Your fingers tensed as you looked up, scanning the office. Everyone was busy.

Was this actually for you?

The doubt crept in before you could stop it. Was it bad that you questioned this? That you questioned being given your own case? Mel's voice echoed in the back of your mind — “You’re too hard on yourself. Just take the opportunity.” You wanted this. You had been waiting for this. Caitlyn was trusting you with the first glance, the first look, the first opinions, the first impression.

You exhaled, shaking off the nerves as you sat down. The file was thin, because you were the one who would be passing it around, not the one receiving it after five other agents had already picked it apart.

“Soft tacos,” Jayce whistled in pure delight, stretching his legs out under his desk.

You didn’t even have to look up to know he was grinning like a damn idiot. No one but Jayce would be eating soft tacos at eight in the morning. And not even the good kind, these weren’t the ones he brought back after holidays at his mom’s house. These were microwaved, doused in sour cream, and inhaled like he was running late to something.

Jayce plopped into his chair beside you, lifting the taco to his mouth, but he barely got a bite in before his body jerked forward, his eyes going wide.

You turned, brows pulling together. “Jayce, it’s a Dollar General taco. You—”

“No way! You got a case?”

Jayce cut you off, speaking through the mouthful of scalding hot taco, eyes glued to the file in your hands. You grimaced at the sight. He hadn’t even swallowed before rushing the words out. But then, you realized that’s why he had burned himself. He had been so excited to say something that he hadn’t waited for his food to cool.

Pride? Your heart picked up slightly at the thought. Jayce, your desk partner, your closest ally in this damn office, looked genuinely excited.

“Oh, yeah. I— I think I did?” you said, unsure. “I mean, Caitlyn could’ve meant to leave this on your desk for all I know.”

Jayce raised his brows, leaning back in his chair. His taco hovered in his left hand, airing out now that he’d learned his lesson. “Mel was right. You are a pessimist.”

“What?” You put the file down carefully. “It’s not pessimism. It’s called being realistic.”

“That sounds boring as hell,” Jayce mused, clearly amused. He was a realist too, but unlike you, he had an open mind when it came to cases. You treated every file like it was life or death, like one wrong note would collapse the entire operation.

“Whoever highlighted the third section word for word is an absolute idiot. No one is reading that. It doesn’t support the evidence or the tax fraud either.” You had once scoffed, tearing open a fresh pack of sticky notes.

Or: “Let me guess. Whoever started this case let an intern do the honors. Jesus. What is happening.”

“I’d rather be boring than wrong,” you countered, turning back toward your desk, firing up your computer. You draped your coat over your lap for warmth. Your office chair was always too cold in the mornings.

“You’re often both of those things.”

“Sorry—? Oh. It’s just you.”

Your voice flatlined the second you spotted Violet standing behind Jayce. Your face dropped, irritation slipping in as she leaned against the back of your chair, one hand perched on her hip.

Jayce twisted around, his face lighting up at the sight of her. “West! Cool to see you, as always. Even if Cait put us on opposite ends of the HQ.”

You blinked in confusion as the two of them exchanged a ridiculously complicated handshake, your stomach twisting slightly.

Of course Violet was buttering up Jayce. He was your closest friend in HQ, and yet here they were, shaking hands like they had some kind of inside joke you weren’t a part of. Not even you had a handshake with Jayce.

“Yeah, yeah,” Violet brushed it off. “I’ll talk her into putting me right between you and grumpy over here.” She nodded toward you.

“You wish,” you scoffed, clicking through your unread emails. The blue light from your screen reflected on your face, making your eyes narrow slightly as you read. Your legs pressed together under your coat, absorbing what little warmth you could get.

Violet teasing you in front of Jayce wasn’t new. Not even close. But something else was.

This wasn’t the first time you had caught her looking at you differently.

It wasn’t just the usual watching to make fun of you anymore.

It had happened in the lounge, on the training field, even when she thought you hadn’t noticed. She was good at eye contact —everyone knew this— but lately? Lately, she had been slipping.

Apparently, you had also grown an extra pair of eyes on your uniform. Violet had been staring at you more than usual.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Unfortunately, Jayce kept talking.

“Thorne got her first case,” he grinned, pointing at you with his thumb. You felt your fingers tighten around the mouse. Jayce. Seriously?

Violet tilted her head, attention shifting fully to you. “Cool. I can give her a few tips and tricks, as someone who’s gone through a dozen or so.”

The last thing you needed was Violet West handing you advice. If she did, she’d rub it in your face for weeks. She’d take credit for half the investigation. She’d never shut up about it.

You snapped your gaze up, meeting hers.

“I’m good,” you said, your voice flat. “I don’t need your help.”

You barely moved, but there was a twitch, something small, something almost unnoticeable. Violet’s eyes flickered from yours, down to your tie. Your fingers moved automatically, adjusting it. She reached for her own and tugged it into place like she was mirroring you.

Was she taunting you?

“My desk has enough room for two,” Violet said, pivoting on her heel. As she turned, you caught a glimpse of that Roman numeral tattoo under her left eye, barely concealed beneath a thin layer of lazily blended concealer. It didn’t concern you. Why would it? Who the hell got a tattoo on their face?

So unprofessional.

“Yeah, I bet it does. Call a therapist.” You muttered the words just loud enough to be caught in the silence of the HQ. Violet didn’t miss a beat, letting out a laugh that shook her shoulders slightly. Your eyes flickered to the way her body moved with it, a ripple of motion.

“Not what I meant, but alright, Thorne.”

Jayce, still chewing, raised a brow and looked between you and the door as Violet exited, then turned back to you.

“Is there something going on, or…?”

“Always,” you said, voice rough but not nearly as irritated as it should have been. That realization bothered you. Normally, you’d be clenching your fists, itching with irritation, but the usual sneer wasn’t there. Jayce definitely noticed, blinking at your quick response.

“…Ooookay then.” He dragged the word out but shrugged, returning to his disgusting breakfast taco.

Still nasty.

────────────────────────

Never in your life had you thought you’d enjoy working on a murder case. It sounded strange from an outside perspective, but getting your first solo case had been something you had wanted —had waited for— for three years. And it was worth it. You had spent overtime in the office, completely immersed.

Highlighting sections, sticking tabs on documents, writing down key notes. By the time you finished, two markers had dried out, and a busted pen had leaked ink all over your palm from how hard you had pressed it against the paper. But it was done. You finally dropped the completed file on Caitlyn’s desk before clocking out.

Walking outside alone, the night air was cold, biting at the skin of your legs despite the sheer pantyhose you had layered under your knee-high boots. Practical, comfortable. You weren’t a fan of showing too much calf, it just felt better this way.

By the time Monday rolled around, you were dead on your feet. No one enjoyed a Monday morning, especially not in early March when climate change was kicking everyone’s ass. Walking into the HQ, the air inside was warmer than the entrance, and shrugging off your trench coat felt like a small relief.

“Finishing an entire case file in a day. That’s impressive.”

You almost jumped out of your boots.

Some idiot had breathed down your neck, not literally, but close enough. You whipped around, half-asleep daze completely shattered.

West.

Again?

You exhaled sharply, so close to snapping. “Can you not go around scaring people half to death for once?”

Violet didn’t even look sorry. She stood there, perfectly smug, like she had just told the funniest joke of the century. You wet your lips, easing the sting from the cold. Your jaw tensed before you finally said what had been lingering in your mind for the past two weeks.

“Are you okay?”

Violet tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah, I’m all good. Perfect, actually. Woke up today, had breakfast for once. It was delicious. Had a cup of coffee, and—”

“I don’t care about your damn coffee,” you cut in, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Or how perfect and sparkly with unicorns your morning has been, West. You know what I’m asking. Don’t act dense.”

You weren’t the only one who had noticed.

The way you two spoke had changed. The fights were less. The banter was different. You had stopped arguing over stupid things; eye contact, for example. It had stopped feeling taunting and started feeling like…

Like something else.

Something you hated.

You scolded yourself for it, constantly. In meetings, when Caitlyn said something that involved Violet, your eyes automatically found her. You expected her to look back.

It made you uncomfortable.

And now, here she was, grinning like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I think unicorns are pretty cool, though. Can’t lie.”

You inhaled sharply.

“This isn’t about unicorns—! You’re actually going to give me a headache.”

You dragged a hand down your face, exasperated. Violet laughed, the sound light and unbothered, as she toyed with her lanyard. Her ID badge swayed slightly, catching the overhead lighting.

You hated that look.

Mostly because you had no idea what it meant anymore.

The air felt different. It wasn’t just the stares that carried a new weight — it was the shift in body language, the subtle shifts that were hard to ignore. Your temper had settled, your instinctive irritation toward Violet dulled. Her jokes still grated on your nerves, but the feeling in your chest wasn’t heavy anymore.

Humiliating. That’s what it was.

Not liking Violet was what kept you going. As terrible as it was to admit, hating her pushed you, forced you to be better, to work harder, to be faster than her. But now? Now, that loathing had soured into something sickly, something different. Interest. God, even thinking that word made you feel ridiculous.

You shouldn’t be this hung up on whatever unspoken thing was happening. It was probably a joke. Another way for her to get under your skin. Or maybe she was just bored, looking for entertainment at your expense. You needed to cut this off, now, before it spiraled into something even worse.

You turned, walked back to your desk, and dropped your bag beside your chair with a sigh that rattled through your chest. You weren’t stupid. You were looking for something, some kind of reassurance, confirmation that Violet wasn’t thinking the same things you were. But it wasn’t there. She was still watching. And when she got up, taking something of Caitlyn’s to the lounge, your body moved before your brain caught up.

Jayce didn’t even bother questioning it. You’d been making excuses to leave all week. Tugging down the hem of your skirt, you inhaled deeply and stepped out, boots clicking steadily against the floor. You swiped your ID at the lounge door, pushing it open, already knowing exactly who you’d find.

Violet did a double take.

She hadn’t expected you to follow. A conversation in the office? That was normal. You coming to her without Jayce nowhere nearby? Not so much.

“Had a feeling you’d follow me here,” she lied.

“Sure you did,” you deadpanned, dropping your ID onto the counter and leaning against it. Violet eyes flickered, hesitated. She was staring again, and you noticed. You both noticed.

This wasn’t the usual hostile tension between you two. It wasn’t irritation or resentment. It was something else, something you didn’t want to name. Something that made your skin burn.

“This needs to stop,” you cut in before she could say anything.

Violet's brows knit together, feigning confusion. But you knew she understood.

“Never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth, Thorne.” Her voice was slow, calculated. “You started this. All of it, I mean... picking fights, sabotaging me, making this job feel like a competition.”

You didn’t have an ego. That’s what you told yourself. But your pride? It had always been fed by approval. A nod from Caitlyn, praise from the department, respect from your coworkers.

But none of that ever filled the hole, did it?

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight, irritation slipping into your tone. A familiar reaction. One Violet was used to by now.

It shouldn’t be her attention that made your chest tighten. It shouldn’t be her opinions that made your skin tickle. And yet, here you were. A few days ago, you had actually questioned whether thinner tights would make your legs stand out more. Whether a thicker lash would make your eyes more striking during those lingering glances. Whether she had noticed the slightly darker tie you had worn that day.

She had noticed all of it.

Violet’s gruff voice cut through your thoughts. “Do you hate me?”

Your breath caught. You stiffened. Yes. Yes.

But your lips pressed together.

“No,” you managed.

“No?” Violet repeated.

“Yes, I do,” you corrected, but your voice wobbled. It sounded weak, like even you didn’t believe it. Violet head tilted slightly, her maroon hair slipping over her face the way it always did.

How was she not dying in a suit like that every day?

“Yes, no, yes, no,” she mused, her tone deliberately teasing. “You’re stuttering.”

Your legs pressed together instinctively, your pencil skirt suddenly feeling too much, too tight, too revealing.

You were a pain in the ass. That was the best way to describe you. Someone who knew exactly what to say, what to do, to get a reaction out of you.

Violet was someone who never needed approval, who carried herself like she owned the room. And now, that smugness was focused entirely on you.

The room felt hot. You reached for your collar, but before your fingers could slip beneath the fabric, Violet voice stopped you.

“You don’t have to wear that tie if you have to keep loosening it.” Her voice was softer now, but still edged with something knowing. “But again, you have tons of bad habits. Can’t expect you to just stop.”

Your fingers froze around the fabric.

Then, she stepped forward.

Her presence was impossible to ignore. Broader frame, heavier stance, rougher edges. Her hands slid into her pockets, the motion easy, casual, like she wasn’t closing the space between you two on purpose.

She was.

You were still against the counter, meaning she had the height advantage now. Even though the difference wasn’t that much, standing above you like this, she felt taller.

Her fingers hesitated before brushing against the smooth white collar of your shirt. Your breath hitched. Your skin burned.

Your eyes flickered, searching for an escape — except you didn’t want to escape. Her thumb traced up and down along your pulse, slow and deliberate. Your stomach curled.

Then, she nudged your chin up. The silence was unbearable.

“Violet,” you breathed.

Her hand faltered.

Three years of a strict last-name basis, and now you had just said it.

No one called ever really called her Violet. No one. It was always something shorter, sharper, less personal.

You sounded good saying it.

“Violet? So intimate,” she taunted, her fingers tapping against your cheek. It wasn’t meant to piss you off. But you wanted to piss her off.

Your fingers shot out, grabbing the tie between them, yanking her closer. Embarrassingly, your noses bumped. But that didn’t stop you. One hand fisted around the tie, the other gripping her bicep, steady, grounding. You felt the way her muscles tensed beneath your palm, felt the pause as her breath hitched.

You didn’t hesitate.

Your lips caught hers, firm, certain, and when she didn’t pull away —when she didn’t resist— you took.

You finally felt the scar along her upper lip, traced the curve of it with your own mouth, tasted the hesitation that melted into something hotter, something heavier. Mapping her out.

Violet didn’t know what to do with her hands at first. They hovered at your back, hesitant, but her eyes were barely cracked open, watching, waiting. Either you could stop here, or you could throw everything out the window.

Then you bit her fuller bottom lip, tugging and letting it ripple into place.

Violet groaned.

And suddenly, the second option sounded so much more appealing.

Violet hadn’t expected this ever.

You had always been untouchable. Not in the literal sense, but in every way that mattered. Unreachable, impenetrable, untamed in your own rigid way. You did what you needed to do: woke up, worked, excelled, then left the HQ like none of it ever touched you.

But this?

Violet barely had time to register it before her hands moved, gripping your hips, pulling at your pencil skirt with little care, silently begging, urging for things to move further.

Your knees buckled as Violet backed you against the edge of a table, the cool marble pressing into the backs of your thighs as she settled between them, crowding you and consuming every ounce of space.

Her fingers looped through the knot of your tie —that stupid, fidgeted-with-like-a-necklace tie— and with a single sharp tug, it came loose. Slipping down. Forgotten.

Then, her hand cupped the back of your neck, pressing her lips against yours with something so deep, so thick with years of this, years of tension, of misplaced resentment, of fuck, how did we get here.

And yet, neither of you wanted to stop.

Violet's fingers traced from the back of your neck to the front of your throat, just barely gripping. It was already hard to breathe, but the idea of that, of her taking it just a little further? It had your stomach twisting.

Kissing the woman you had despised for years was going to be hilarious to explain.

But later.

Not now.

“Is the door—locked?” you barley managed out, your glossed lips brushing against hers, voice raw, uneven. Violet shook her head, hummed, lips curling against yours.

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, Her hands moving. She slid one down to your thigh, gripping and propping it around her waist.

Then her mouth descended.

Hot, wet kisses trailed down the slope of your throat, her tongue flicking out just slightly, savoring the mix of sweat and whatever faint perfume lingered on your skin.

Your pulse pounded beneath her lips, and Violet felt something deep in her tighten at the sound of your breath hitching, the way your body gave just slightly, as if caught between pure instinct and resistance.

Her palm landed against the underside of your thigh, firm, not particularly harsh, but a deliberate smack.

A sharp, raspy gasp broke from your lips, your body twitching against hers, bottom lip swollen from the way you had abused it between sloppy, desperate kisses.

Violet’s eyes flickered, catching the way you tensed, how your cheeks were burning, how your hands trembled against her chest.

Everything needed to come off.

Her fingers dragged up your thigh. Rubbing in slow, lazy circles before moving up, slipping beneath the first few buttons of your work blouse.

One by one with one hand.

Meticulously.

You slowly sucked in a breath, your own hands fisting the fabric of her blazer.

Violet let go of you entirely, her fingers deftly working the rest of your buttons open, sliding the blouse off your shoulders before carelessly tossing it onto the chair beside the table. Her gaze swept over you, dark and unreadable, before she bit her bottom lip, teeth smoothing over it as she exhaled through her nose.

She didn't know what was better: finally having you, the woman who had spent years making her job hell, unraveling beneath her touch, or the sheer fact that you looked this damn good doing it.

Her hand moved instinctively, fingers splaying across the lace covering your chest, feeling the warmth of your skin through the fabric. She pressed a kiss between the valley of your breasts, slowly before trailing up, tongue flicking over your collarbones.

The sounds leaving your lips sent something sharp through her, something she had never allowed herself to acknowledge before now. Your legs tensed around her hips, a burning heat building between them. Your pussy was drenched.

Then, she moved. Rolling her hips forward, pressing herself against you, the friction earning a shaky grunt from your throat.

You felt good.

Her hand traced down your spine, unhooking your bra with ease. The straps loosened, fabric slipping from your body, and Violet took a step back to let her eyes drag over you.

She dampened her lips. "I'm so lucky to see you like this. You're so gorgeous.”

Her voice was lower now, rougher, hands returning to you. Thumbs circling your nipples, before sliding down to your waist.

She sat you up, lips grazing your jaw, before murmuring, "What happened to that mouth of yours?"

Her fingers flicked over your erect breasts, and your breath hitched, body arching slightly before you could stop yourself. The sound you made earned a knowing chuckle from her, and before you could snap at her for it, she was moving again, pressing you back against the table.

Her hands slid down your thighs, rolling your skirt up at an agonizing pace.

Violet huffed, giving your knee a light tap.

"Is the pantyhose really necessary?"

You exhaled sharply. "Yes, It is."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something amused behind it, something fond — before her fingers traced slow circles over the thin, black fabric covering you.

And then, without hesitation, she hooked her fingers through the material and tore it.

A sharp gasp left your lips. "Vi! Those were expen—"

She silenced you with another sharp tug, the ruined fabric giving way enough to give her the space she wanted. She could have pulled them down, but this was much better.

The sight of you like this, obedient beneath her, legs trembling slightly, breath uneven.

She wanted to ruin you further.

Jesus.

Her hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting and adjusting them until they rested over her shoulders.

Your breathing hitched, erratic. You knew what was coming, felt it before it even happened, but when her lips finally met your pussy; wet and painfully slow. You gasped, your spine curving inward, nails curling into the marble beneath you.

A broken sound left you, high and breathless. "That’s so good."

Violet huffed a quiet laugh against you. "I haven't even started yet."

She hooked your panties aside, her mouth pressing against you fully, tongue dragging slow, then flicking, savoring, sucking on your swelled clit. She worked like she had time, like this was something to be unraveled piece by piece, something she could take apart and put back together again.

Your clammy hands flew to grip the edge of the table, your body shifting under her touch, her mouth sending sharp waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Fuhh—ck, Vi." Your voice cracked.

That only spurred her on, hands gripping your thighs tighter, nails pressing into your skin as she curved her tongue, shifting her movements, searching, memorizing what made you fall apart.

She had spent years watching you, knowing exactly how to get under your skin. It was fun to put it to use.

Violet’s mouth worked you over with hungry desperation, her tongue sucking every inch of skin she could reach. Your folds, pulsing clit, labia — every so often, she flicked her gaze upward, watching you writhe against the table. Back arching, lips parting in helpless, breathless sounds.

If she had known this was the key to shutting you up, to finally silencing that sharp mouth of yours, she would have done this sooner.

Her lips curled against you, satisfaction lacing her voice as she murmured, “Good girl. How’s this? Yeah? So good?”

Her breath was hot and damp against your skin, sending a shudder through your sopping core.

Your only response was a whimper, your hand sliding up to your chest; grasping at yourself, desperate for anything to ground you. But the moment you tried to regain control, Violet sucked on your clit once more with enough force to break it.

Your spine arched off the table. Another sharp, wrecked gasp slipped past your lips. Violet’s grip tightened on your thighs, dragging you closer, forcing your legs to stay apart as she devoured you like you were her last damn meal.

The pleasure was too much —too sharp, too overwhelming— but stopping now wasn’t an option.

“So—” your voice trembled, barely coherent, “so, so good, Violet.”

Your hips rocked against her mouth, helpless against the way she was working you over, keeping you open, keeping you hers.

This was insane.

Doing this in the employee lounge? Absolutely wrong.

“Keep your legs around my shoulders,” Violet ordered, voice rough, edged with something close to command. “If you move, I’m stopping.”

Your breath hitched. Before you could protest, she lifted her hand to her lips, sucking two fingers between them, coating them with her own spit. Saliva moved down the digits in thick beads.

Then, she thrusted them inside of you. Wet enough to take them in one go.

Your body jolted, your nails scraping against the table as the pressure spread you open, slick and hot and perfect. You were definitely breaking a nail today.

Violet whistled lowly, amused, before curling them just right—

“My—God!”

The sound ripped out of you raw and shameless.

Violet hummed, the vibration shattering against you, her fingers sinking deeper, curling again, chasing that sound like it was her new favorite thing in the world.

The sound of your squelching pussy that sucked her in and tightened when she moved even just a second too quickly. She loved it.

“You’re a mess, baby.”

Violet’s voice was thick with amusement, her palm coming down to deliver a second sharp smack against your reddened thigh. Before you could react, she spit. A slow gesture. Watching as it mixed with the release already dripping down your swollen, aching core.

Her right hand never stopped, fingers still working in and out of you, dragging along every sensitive spot. Rough, but slow. Just enough to make sure you felt everything — every curl, every drag, every time she pulled out just to push deeper. Your insides protested, torn between needing a break and wanting more.

She smirked, tilting her head. “Look at you.”

She blew a soft stream of air over your glistening cunt, watching the way your body twitched in response.

Your head was somewhere else. Your hips moved on their own, helpless to the sensation coursing through you. Strings of moans and profanity fell from your lips, your body tightening around her fingers, pulsing — begging without words.

“Vi,” you whimpered. Your lashes damp with unshed tears.

She hummed in response, but didn’t let up, her fingers keeping that same relentless, torturous pace. A shaky moan ripped from your throat, your thighs trembling over her shoulders.

“I think—I think I’m going to come.”

Violet’s ashy eyes flicked up to you at your words, dark and heated, before her lips curled.

“Yeah?”

She then went faster.

Your gasp turned into a cry, body jolting at the sharp, intense pleasure flooding your sensitive nerves. There was no way no one had heard you two — not when you were here, back arched, lips parted, begging for her, falling apart because of her.

“No—! Vi! I can’t—!”

Your legs snapped shut around her head as your body tensed, spine bowing as the orgasm hit you. Ripping through your system, spilling over Violet’s fingers and dripping onto the marble beneath you.

Your breathing came in heavy. Overstimulation setting in as your body shuddered through the aftershocks.

Violet finally pulled her fingers from you, gaze flickering between your spent, trembling form and the slick coating her hand. Then, without hesitation, she brought her fingers to her lips and gave them a slow and greedy suck.

Your back falls flat on the cool marble.

Fuck.

Vi had won, again.

[tinfoil-jones]

Tate Pines AU 

(aka Tater McGucket is an oops baby Fiddlestan kid)

Note: LONG POST. This is me hyper fixating on a brain worm because the Gravity Falls Fandom roared back to life. This is probably misspelled in a lot of areas, and not the clearest or most concise post because this is me rambling at 2 in the morning. Also the characters are maybe OOC. Also, this is written without accents because I'm not from the Midwest or southern United States.

In this AU/Scenario, Stan is a transgender man, and 'encountered' Fiddleford during his vagabond years. It was a heavily drunk/high one-night-stand, so they never properly met or even knew each others names. This happens after Ford graduating Backupsmore University, and for this scenario to work let’s say that Fiddleford went to BMU for his undergraduate program, but then went to the local university in Palo Alto for his graduate studies.

Years later, just like in the OG show Fiddleford is Stanford's research partner in Gravity Falls, and married to Emma-May Dixon; but they don't have any children together at this time, and they got together *after* his encounter with Stan. So this isn't an affair baby scenario.

Tatum "Tate" Pines is 5 years old, living on the road with his dad, currently staying in a motel but they're about to move into a real apartment for the first time ever because Tate needs to start school soon. Stan is still a drifter and a con man, but he recently came upon a large sum of money because Tate accurately guessed the lottery number for the state they were currently in.

Stan still receives a postcard from Gravity Falls that says "Please Come", and is allegedly sent from his estranged Twin who he hasn't seen in almost 12 years. But this is roughly a few months before it would have happened in-canon.

Given Stan's disownment, no one knows that he even has a son, not even Ma Pines. Not like he'd want them to know. Having his own son and loving him unconditionally made him realize that his own dad Filbrick was a monster, who he didn't need to prove himself to. But he still wants to reconcile with Ford, so he decides to go just like in canon.

This post card, however, wasn't sent by Ford. It was sent by Fiddleford, who was watching Ford spiral in real time and hoped that if anyone could convince Ford that he was acting crazy and unstable, it was his twin brother.

While Stanford doesn't greet Stanley with a crossbow like in the original because this is before the portal test with Fiddleford, he's definitely shocked to not just see Stanley there, but Stanley with a tiny gap-toothed child in tow.

Stan doesn't know that Ford wasn't expecting them, and excitedly introduces Ford to his nephew.

Ford: Stanley, are you sure this child is yours? Stan: ...Ford, did you forget we're not identical twins?  Ford: ...Oh! Oh my, Stanley... Stan: *thinking* 'I don't know if I'm touched that you don't see me as anything other than a man... or insulted that you forgot something so fundamental about me'

Flabbergasted, Ford lets them both in; Fiddleford is welding something downstairs so he doesn't see or hear any of this. Ford plants Tate on the couch in front of the TV and practically drags Stan to the kitchen to talk to him privately; he's too surprised by Stan having a child to question why they were there in the first place.

Ford: Is there a... another parent..? Stan: ...It's just me and Tate. Always has been. Ford: How did...? Stan: I didn't plan a pregnancy... but I had no money for T-shots for months on end, and without the T, everything down stairs went to factory default.  Ford: Do you know who it is? The father- I mean, the other father? Stan: Not exactly, some southern guy, don't think I ever got his name. Ford: What happened? Stan: Funny you should ask. (FLASHBACK) Fiddleford, high out of his mind: -and that's how I won a golden fiddle. Stan, drunk out of his mind: That's crazy, dude. *grabs him aggressively by the shirt collar to pull him close* Now shut up and fuck me until I can't walk. Fiddleford, horny out of his mind: Hoo-whee, well don't you diddly-darn mind if'n I do. (END) Ford: Stanley? Stan: Hmm? Ford: Are you okay? You just said 'its funny that you ask', and then stared off into space for 10 seconds. Stan: Let's just say I never touched tequila ever again.

Eventually, Fiddleford does come upstairs when he notices Ford didn't come back downstairs, and see's the brothers in the kitchen just as Ford asks Stan why he even came here.

Fiddleford admits it was him who sent the postcard, that someone needed to 'talk some sense' into Ford, and then introduces himself to Stan.

While Stan isn't perplexed by Fiddleford because he was too drunk to remember a face- Fiddleford, who has very good memory, immediately knows he met Stan somewhere, he just can't quite place where, when, or why.

Ford does show Stan the portal, saying it's his life's work and he'll need to test it soon, and casually asks Stan if he wants to stay and help. Before Fiddleford can protest that's a bad idea and Ford should just stop, Stan agrees because he wants to reconnect (and also keep a roof over Tate's head, what were the chances they'd win another lottery?), it did hurt his feelings that Stanford hadn't reached out out to him after all, but maybe they could work on that.

While Ford hasn't exactly forgiven Stanley for the science fair incident, he can't just let his brother, a single father be homeless with a five-year-old (Stan had to drop the lease with their intended apartment to come to Gravity Falls). And... well, Ford gets attached to Tate quite early:

Tate: ... *staring at him* Ford: Can I help you with something, Tatum? Tate: Uncle, is your name "Stanford"?  Ford: Yes, but if you prefer you can call me Uncle Ford. Tate: Oh. Okay. It's funny, Stanford is my middle name. *later* Stan: Kiddo, why has your uncle been sobbing in his room for the past thirty minutes? Tate: *shrugs*

Not realizing the gravity (hehe) of the situation, Stan gets settled in the house and helps Ford and Fiddleford where he can (usually just moving heavy objects or punching paranormal creatures, or forcing Ford to shower). He does notice that Ford seems a bit... unhinged, and weirdly obsessed with some new geometry based religion, but people change after college right?

He does get unnerved by Fords weird episodes where his personality seems to shift and he goes into town to act like an absolute menace. Stan can't help but think that isn't Ford; its been years since he saw him but damnit he knew his brother and whatever entity possessed him just to slap a cops belly, *that* was not Ford. But Ford always brushed him off when he tried to bring it up, and one time 'Ford' even coldly reminded Stan that he could remove Stanley and his son from the home at any time if he wasn't going to be useful.

During this time, Stan and Fiddleford get to know each other, they get along quite well actually; Fiddleford is fond of little Tatum, who along with Stan enjoys listening to him play the banjo. One could say, given Fords obsession with his current passion project and prioritizing work over his relationships, that Stan and Fiddleford become close. 

Fiddleford picks up, however... that little Tate is a genius. Although he's a quiet kid, he has an advanced vocabulary for his age. He's able to read and write at what must be a 2nd or 3rd grade level despite not even starting kindergarten yet, and... one time Fiddleford left an 8x8 cubiks cube unattended, and came back no more than five minutes later to see that Tate had already solved it. And Stan had told him that Tate has actively predicted lottery numbers before.

He brings it up with Stan, who admits that he already knows Tate is a genius, but he also knows what academic pressure and high expectations can do to someone (referring to Ford), and he just wants Tate to live life by his own terms, not let other people dictate that for him based on his IQ.

Fiddleford... also see's resemblances between himself and Tate. Sure, Tate has browner hair like Stan, but the wavier texture is just like his own. And while Stanley does have a prominent nose, it's not as prominent as Tates, which is much more similar to Fiddlefords. 

Fiddleford begins to ask Stan about his past, specifically bringing up that he believes they may have met before.

Fiddleford: Say, Stan, did we meet before you moved here? You're so familiar to me. Stan: I wonder where you could have possibly seen my face before? *glances at the lab* Fiddleford: No. I feel like we've met before - you ever been to Palo Alto? Stan: That city in Cali? Yeah. I'd say about six years ago. I was just passing by, resupplying, and selling weed to college students. Fiddleford: You were a weed dealer? Stan: Among other things, yeah. California's *the* place to go to for weed. I don't do it anymore. Fiddleford: Did you... ever visit the university there? Stan: A couple times. Hated going there because it reminded me of... well, I think you know. Why? Fiddleford: I did my graduate studies there, maybe I met you there? Stan: You think so? I only saw buyers, did you buy weed from me? Fiddleford: No... I had a dealer, but it wasn't you. Stan: Other than that, I did get invited to a frat party once. Think they were called "SigEp" or something. Fiddleford: That's 'Sigma Phi Epsilon'. That was the fraternity I belonged to. Did I see you at that party? Stan: Probably - oh man that party was crazy. I made so many bad decisions that night. Fiddleford: Stanley... how old did you say your son was? Stan: Five, why? Fiddleford: ... Fiddleford: Stanley... *reaches out* Stan: *jerks back, before pointing away* Hey look over there, a distraction! Fiddleford: What- *looks away* Stan: *jumps out the window and makes a run for it*

Stan does not entertain any further discussions with Fiddleford about his past, and goes out of his way to keep Tate with him and away from Fiddleford. Given his criminal past, he's afraid that if Fiddleford is correct, he could make legal actions to take Tate away from him.

Fiddleford eventually goes to Ford about his suspicions.

Fiddleford: Stanford I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to promise you'll stay calm. Stanford: *doesn't look up from microscope* Are you going to tell me you suspect you're Tatum's father because you slept with my brother around the time he would have been concieved? Fiddleford: ... Stanford: Because you are. Fiddleford: What in tar- Stanford: *tosses a file folder towards Fiddleford* I have all of our DNA on file - Fiddleford: You do???? Stanford: Of course I do! I store the DNA profile of everyone who's entered my residence, just in case there's a shifter afoot. Comparing yours and Stanley's DNA to Tatum's, there is only a 0.001% chance that he isn't your biological child. Fiddleford: ... *speechless* Stanford: Congratulations, according to science you're a father.

Fiddleford does eventually manage to talk to Stan about it, and clear the air between them. Stan is apprehensive because Fiddleford is married, but he's at least relieved that Tate happened before Fiddleford was in a relationship with Emma-May. Stan allows Fiddleford to spend more time with Tate (supervised), but they agree Tate doesn't need to know just yet what Fiddleford is to him.

Fiddleford also holds back on telling his wife about Tate, he'd prefer to tell her face-to-face.

But then the portal test happens and Fiddleford gets a glimpse of the horrors beyond the portal, which traumatizes him just like in the original. This doesn't convince him to leave, because Ford is becoming dangerous and Fiddleford is worried about what would happen if Stan and Tate were left alone with him. He invents the memory gun, but holds up on using it on himself.

The relationship Ford has with both Stan and Fiddleford  becomes more explosive. Stan and Fiddleford are both telling Ford that he's messing with forces beyond his control.

To get Fiddleford off of his back about the portals, Ford instead lashes out at him about something else.

Stanford: Fiddleford... you know you're my best friend right? Fiddleford: ...Of course. Stanford: Stanley and I don't have a good relationship... we haven't in a long time. *puts a hand on his shoulder* But don't you dare hurt my brother, or nephew. I don't care how strained things are between Stanley and myself, or how close you and I are... He's my brother, and I'll always protect him, even if it's from you. Fiddleford: Do you think I would try to steal Tatum, Stanford?! *Pushes him away* Also, if you're going to threaten me, you could at least not be such a hypocrite. Stanford: How dare- Fiddleford: You say you care about Stanley? That you'd protect him? He's been homeless for over a decade! You SAW him get kicked out of home when he was still a minor! He escaped three different prisons, had extremely shady black-market top-surgery, chewed his way out of the trunk of a car, and gave birth by himself in an alleyway! He had walking pneumonia for nearly a year straight and almost died from it because he had to choose between himself and Tate over who needed treatment more!  But you didn't know any of that, did you? Because you don't talk to him or try to reach out. You still avoid him. You still treat him like he's your enemy. You're still resentful about that damn science project.  You don't know him or what he went through. You didn't even want him here, I called him up here so maybe somebody could set you straight!  Working with this portal, messing with these forces beyond comprehension and control- the only threat to Stan and our son is you! Ford: Get the hell out of my lab- and stay the hell away from my twin.

But this 'Mystery Trio'-esque era of their lives has a Bad End:

After Ford gets sucked into the portal the same way as he did in the original, Stanley decides to take over his identity; Fiddleford helps him with everything up until Stan fakes his own death.

As Tate's biological (other) father, and Stan having recently altered Tate's birth certificate to add Fiddleford, the boy is given to Fiddleford right away following Stan's 'death' and not put into foster care or an orphanage. This window of time is also when Fiddleford establishes the Society of The Blind Eye, but he chooses a leader after he founds it rather than leading it himself.

When Stan makes it clear he's going to dedicate himself to fixing the portal and bringing Ford back, Fiddleford makes a drastic decision. 

Knowing what the portal obsession did to Stanford, Fiddleford doesn't want Tate to be around if- no, when, the same thing happens to Stan. 

He uses the memory gun on Stan to make him forget about their son entirely. He does the same thing to Tate to make him forget about Stanley, legally changes his name to Tater McGucket, and takes him back to California with him.

He makes this decision because in this scenario he never used the memory gun on himself, so the memory of what's on the other side of the portal still haunts him, making him more desperate and callous, especially with a child involved.

It breaks his heart that he did this, but he doesn't want Tate to be dragged into Pines drama. He takes the boy home and tells his wife that he was conceived before they were together (looking at Tate's age, he was born at least a year before they started dating), and uses the news clipping about Stan's death to explain how he got custody without any trouble, and Emma-May adopts Tate. Tates memory gaps are excused by his young age, and the trauma of losing a parent at such a young age, so Fiddleford and Emma-May decide not to tell him about Stanley.

Stan forgets about both Tate and Fiddleford, but he has this deep sense of loss and betrayal that he can't place. He figures over the years that maybe it's just some of his feelings about Ford having gone through the portal...

Decades later, and after a divorce, Fiddleford moves back to Gravity Falls, bringing Tate with him so Tate can start his Bait and Tackle Shop somewhere quiet. Fiddleford is there to check up on the Society of the Blind Eye, and also to check on Stanley because he feels guilty about what he did. Although he knows that this is Stanley pretending to be Stanford, he says nothing to anybody about it, it's the least he could do.

When Stan see's Fiddleford again - he doesn't know why, because he's 'never met the guy', but just looking at his face pisses him off. And every time Stan see's Fiddleford from then on, whether its across the street or at the shops or what have you, he is openly hostile towards him even if he can't adequately explain why he feels this way about Fiddleford. Also strangely attracted to him, particularly his banjo playing, but its overshadowed by his hostility.

Stan meets Tate shortly after the Tate and Backles Bait and Tackle shop is opened... and he doesn't know why, but this young man he's never met makes him feel sad. But also... Relieved? Elated? Proud?? He comes by often, sometimes not even buying (or stealing) anything, he just chats with Tate (and Backle to a lesser degree).

Tate himself feels strangely fond of this frequent flier customer. Like he's met a dear old friend. He is awfully confused why Stan will sometimes call him 'Tatum', seemingly without noticing, and why he never feels like correcting him. 

Fiddleford knows why, because he never erased his own memory, and he feels so guilty. But it's been 30 years, he can't say anything without ruining his relationship with Tate (which became strained after the divorce, which in this timeline happened maybe around Tate's late teen/early adult years). 

One way that this whole thing can be revealed is when Dipper and Mabel deal with The Blind Eye society, they find two memory tubes, one labelled "Tatum S. Pines" and another labeled "Stan Pines" take it with them because it has their last name, and Grunkle Stans name, on them.

They play the one labeled Stan Pines at first, and realize it's Tates early childhood memories of Stan.

When they play the one labeled "Tatum S. Pines" they see it's all of Grunkle Stans memories of Tate, leading up to his confrontation with Fiddleford.

(MEMORY) Stan, backing up: Wait, what is that thing? Fiddleford, what are you doing with that?! Fiddleford, pointing the memory gun at him: I'm sorry Stan, I truly am. But I can't let you drag our son into this... I do care for you, and I wish things could have been different. But you're just like him!  **BLAST** (END OF MEMORY)

This horrifies them, and they have a real moral conundrum of if they tell Stan and Tate, or if they keep it to themselves to keep the peace. 

They deserve to know... but it'd be so painful. And this would take place before "The Tale of Two Stans" so they don't even know what Fiddleford was talking about to justify stealing Tate, or who 'him' is.

Eventually, it's Wendy and Soos who confront McGucket and tell him that he better be honest with Stan and Tate, or they're going to do it for him. That he's a selfish coward who ripped someone's young child from their arms.

Or, an alternative scenario; Fiddleford never stored those memories in the first place, or at least didn't store them with the Society of the Blind Eye, and it's Ford who brings this all up to Stan. Ford was already through the portal when Fiddleford decided that parental abduction was totally okay if there was amnesia involved.

Ford: Are these Tatum's children? *motioning to Dipper and Mabel*. Stan: They're Shermie's grandkids, and - who? Ford: ...Tatum? Tatum Stanford Pines? Your son. Stan: ...I don't- I don't have a son. *tears gathers in the corner of his eyes, but he either doesn't notice, or chooses to not react* And if I did, I wouldn't give him your name as a middle. Ford: Yes you do, and yes you did. You introduced us right before the portal incident. I even DNA-sequenced him to confirm that his other father was Fiddleford. Stan: WHAT? And- who?? Ford: Here, look *pulls up his DNA files from ones of his secret safes in the lab and shows it to Stanley, which not only has the DNA results but also pictures of Stanley, Fiddleford, and Tate from the time* Honestly Stanley, how could you forget a child you car-.

Ford realizes something is wrong when it's clear that Stanley is distressed, but also confused, like having a son is legitimately a surprise to him. He's so shocked he has to lie down for a bit. His eyes keep leaking tears but he doesn't know why 'Fords cruel and oddly elaborate joke' is making him so upset, because 'clearly it's not true'.

When Ford hears Fiddleford lives in Gravity Falls, he seeks him out and demands answers.

At first, Fiddleford tries to play it off like maybe Ford was remembering things wrong - but with enough pressure, and a ray gun pointed at his chest, Fiddleford finally comes clean. About what he did. Why he did it.

Ford is still angry at Stan for getting him trapped in the Nightmare Realm Multiverse for 30 years; and then stealing his name, identity, and house, but that's still his twin brother. And what Fiddleford did was to him was horrendous, especially after Stanford had already warned him years ago to not to hurt Stan or Tate. This was a crime against the whole Pines family. 

So Ford beats him up. No, he doesn't kill or maim him, but he beats the living dog shit out of him until Fiddleford promises the glass tubes of Stan and Tate's memories in exchange for mercy.

Mabel, Dipper (and Soos/Wendy) are clearly confused (because they wouldn't have seen the memories in the "The Hall of the Forgotten"). Although, this whole revelation does bring Dipper closer to Stan, because Dipper had no idea he wasn't the only transgender person in the family.

Ford shows these memories to Stan first, who is going through all kinds of emotions especially after getting Ford back and their bitter reunion. This allows Ford and Stan to somewhat reconcile early; just like how Ford lost 30 years of his life to the portal, Stanley lost 30 years with his own son because of his conviction to fix it.

Ford also has to physically stop Stan from hunting down and murdering Fiddleford (who Stan only knew as McGucket up to this point) with his bare hands. Reminding him that it's more important that he reaches out to Tate.

But Stan is conflicted. He wants to be Tate's dad again but... Tate is in his mid-thirties, he doesn't need him like he did when he was 5. And Tate already has two loving parents, both of which don't have an extensive criminal record, and who provided him with a stable home, which Stan never did because they were homeless the whole time.

Does he really want to uproot Tate's life and/or peace of mind with a revelation this big?  

This goes all the way to Weirdmageddon, where everyone gathers in the Mystery Shack for security; faced with a possible end of the world, Stan takes Tate to the side, dragging Fiddleford with them, and tells him the truth. Fiddleford confirms it all, ashamed and apologetic. Finally, they give Tate his memory tube, which he watches.

For a moment Stan and Fiddleford have a moment of solidarity; Stan can see that Fiddleford really did want to spare Tate from whatever unknown-at-the-time fate had befallen Stanford because of the portal.

Fiddleford finally faces his past mistakes, and apologizes for what he did. That what he did was wrong, and he can never make it up to them, but if they survive this maybe he could try to make things right.

This is their last family moment between the three of them pre memory-wipe.

The mind wipe thing still happens. Gravity Falls is saved. Mabel and Dipper manage to jog Stan's memory but there's no way to make him remember Tate - the glass memory tubes have already been used, and Stan didn't keep any photos from his homeless era because he couldn't afford it most of the time, and when he could he always managed to get kicked out of whatever state they were in before the photos were done developing.

Once again, Ford comes in clutch. Throughout his last journal, just like how he made entries about Fiddleford, he also made entries about Stan and Tate, including detailed sketches. How Tate liked to get into high places, exasperating Stanley who was afraid of heights. How Stan would take him to the woods to follow the creeks because Tate was intrigued by waterways. How Tate said so few words but Stan always seemed to know exactly what he wanted or needed at any given time. How Tate only liked eating the green M&M's but Stan was fine with it because he got to eat the rest. 

Now while Stan's heartwarming memories of his son come back, so does his desire to break Fiddlefords neck. 

Fiddleford still buys the Northwest Mansion and converts it to "McGucket's Hootenanny Hut", but because the Pines families are the heroes of Gravity Falls, they (Ford) manage to convince the local government to put Fiddleford on house arrest for an indeterminate amount of time as punishment for 30-something years of parental abduction and alienation (also the whole starting a Cult thing). Fiddleford accepts this, and Tate still lives with him.

Post memory-wipe Stan still reconciles with both of them, and his relationship with Fiddleford is... weird, but not entirely bad. It's like they're dating, but with a lot of emotional distance. Like, Stan still tells Ford he wants to murder him... but also tells him to never, ever, check their texting history. 

Stan still goes to sail the world with Ford on the Stan O'War II. They do invite Tate, who declines because "He'd rather just live the simple life in Gravity Falls, and not get involved in whatever supernatural gobbledygook his dad and uncle are sure to get into".

And Stan is so proud of him... because just like he said thirty years, there's nothing he wanted more for Tate than to live his life by his own terms. He video chat's with him as often as he does with Dipper and Mabel. 

Tate ends up keeping McGucket as his last name, but he changes his first and middle back to what it was originally.

And that's the end of this tale, thanks for sticking with me. Here's a passage where Ford teases Stan while they're on their sea adventure;

Ford: It was so sweet of you to give your son my name. Stan: Poindexter, I swear to Moses. Ford: Even after a decade apart. Admit it, you missed me so much. Stan: *rolls his eyes* Of course I did. Stan: Stan: But the real reason that's his middle name is because he was conceived at Stanford University. Ford: I- Ford: I really didn't want to know or think about that.

The End... Go home.

[traceybrakes]

Let's Talk About Un-ironicizing Art!

In light of a lot of the conversations i've seen surrounding Death Grips and recent events concerning them, I want to take the time to point out that this is a good time to start thinking about how we engage with art on the whole!

For a long time, the irony poisoned method of consumption went unchecked in all facets of internet culture. As an internet musician in current day, I have noticed a sharp disconnect between artists and enthusiasts/casual listeners when it comes to attitudes surrounding music specifically, though I've witnessed it permeate all forms of art in some way.

I see people who have grown scared to engage on deeper levels, intentionally severing any resonant connections or knowledge learned from a piece of media before it has the chance to take root. In short, dare to be vulnerable! Dare to enjoy something on the basis that you yourself resonate with it, and not for any other nebulous reasoning. When masses of people relegate art to a spectacle, not only do artists become more likely to be disenchanted with the passions that fuel their work, but the audience ultimately suffers as well. All art at that point becomes less an extension of ourselves, less a vehicle to explore our identities, and is rendered a meaningless hulking sludge, or worse, the opponent to an already shrinking and narrow worldview.

Be not afraid to be unabashedly in love with the work that inspires you. Be not afraid to have the things you love misunderstood by some. When you engage with work new and old, make sure to do it for yourself. Making and observing art is inherently selfish, but being selfish is not inherently misguided. Allow yourself to learn, grow, discover, and repeat that cycle until the day you die.

To speak more candidly about my own experience, throughout the course of my life, there has been art that I've held near and dear to my identity, and own journey of self discovery that I seldom find others who hold the same sentiments to. I've always found this exciting. Exciting to hold something close to my chest as something so personal, and even more exciting when I can ease up on that grip when I find someone who I can share that with. However, I've also been through the throes of how the internet tends to chew up and spit out art that generally isn't understood by the many. I've fallen victim myself to the hive mind mentality that circles some artists and the cult of non-identity around them. This off-color ouroboros of knowing all about an artist's work and simultaneously upholding this facade of vapid complacency. I've come to the conclusion that if being openly supportive and connected to an artist's work or a particular piece of work automatically renders a person uninteresting and unambiguous at the very least, then I will live happily as an uninteresting open book. At the worst times, we see this line of thinking contribute to Death Grips being mocked and belittled en masse by people who are unwilling to engage with their art before they even get that far. It's heartbreaking, to me at least to see people put so much effort, emotion, and passion into transforming culture for the better to be rewarded with a crowd that's plugging their ears.

I realize I run the risk of sounding self indulgent, or even patronizing to an extent; I apologize because that isn't my intention, I'm hoping to see gears shift at least on a micro level surrounding attitudes towards art appreciation. Remember to dare to be in love holistically with the art you engage with! Speak of the things you love in a way that makes that clear to others, and consider your peers to do the same! You and the people around you can only be better off for it.

[add1ctedt0you]

The Untamed - conventional and unconventional mothers

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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The rest of lunch was filled with more casual chatter, and after somewhat helping Alfred clean up the dishes the group headed for the Batcave. Bruce was quick to wordlessly lift Danny onto his arm again once they got close to the stairs, setting him down carefully close to the main computer as Damian fetched a rolling stool and Tim started to set up the computer for what they needed.

“Don’t feel like you need to rush. If you need a break we can come back to this later,” Bruce assured quietly as Danny gratefully took a seat on the stool.

“Here’s the pen,” Tim was quick to come over as well, holding out what looked like a tablet stylus with a few buttons for Danny to take. “Hold the front button to free draw. And if you want to do straight lines between points just tap the button higher up to switch modes, tap the front button for each point of the lines, and double tap to end the connection on the current line,” he explained, manipulating Danny’s hand to follow the instructions as well as demonstrate the functions.

Danny was surprised to see faintly glowing hologram lines appear wherever the pen tip was when the buttons were pushed, huffing a small giggle in pleasant surprise. “Woah…. So cool,” he commented, impressed by the advanced technology. “Uhm…. So, I guess… the entrance was like this…,” he rambled brokenly, figuring he should just get going and get up to start drawing what he could remember in the open space.

It took him a second to get the hang of the device, and with Tim following him around to be able to make any adjustments Danny requested he ended up getting caught up in the explanations and feeling less scrutinized. His movements were a bit slow as he tried to conserve his energy, and sometimes he had to float to reach where he needed to, but it was a lot more effective than trying to describe what no one else could see.

“The frame is mounted on the wall, and there’s two metal doors embedded in the wall that we can use to somewhat close the portal. It doesn’t block anything that can go intangible, but it keeps humans out and masks the gateway from being easy to find while in the Infinite Realms. There’s a simple alarm light on top that alerts us of any anomalies. And a filtration system on the right side. Which is actually one of the more important parts. Like I said earlier, the portal extends into the wall about… this far. It’s masked by the ectoplasmic energy now that the portal is on, but I looked into it more closely a few months ago. There’s some sort of structure within the tunnel walls that directs the flow of ectoplasm once it’s pulled from the Infinite Realm. It loops on itself, in a spiral, passing through the ecto filter first. The raw ectoplasm from the realm is corrupted, and we use the filter to strip out the impurities. Kind of like separating the different elements of human blood. Then it gets bounced around within the tunnel, hitting eight hot spots here, here, hm,” he hummed for the rest of the points, as he drew circles to mark them, “all before getting pulled back to the middle again, which creates the visual spiral we can see in the portal from the outside. There’s a minor amount of electricity maintaining certain functions, but for the most part it’s self sustained by the ectoplasm.”

At that point Danny had moved around enough his legs were starting to hurt and feel weak, so he plopped back on the stool from before. It seemed to be a good time to take a break anyway, for Wally and Raven were starting to walk around the crude designs.

“...This is a fibonacci spiral…Or at least it’s extremely close,” Wally spoke up first after coming to a stop in front of the diagram again, gesturing to the energy current lines. “And you said the measurements weren’t exact?”

“Yeah. I measured the opening once, and it was very slightly over two meters in diameter. With the tunnel going back about three meters, but also slightly more. I just thought it was because my parents weren’t being careful with the measurements,” Danny confirmed with a tired nod, absently rubbing his leg.

“Or it needed a different measurement system…,” Wally mused, a few thoughts starting to click in his head. “Tim, make the diameter 2.094 meters, and the depth 3.141 meters. Then space out the concentration points to match a fibonacci spiral.”

As Tim tapped on a wireless keyboard to adjust the diagram according to Wally’s direction he squinted slightly. “Two point… Wait, that’s the conversion for four and six Egyptian Cubits respectively. That’s one of the oldest measurement systems.”

“From one of the oldest civilizations known for being rather involved when it came to matters of the dead,” Wally added as a way to confirm Tim had come to the same realization as him.

“Egyptian cubits?” Danielle repeated, scrunching her nose in confusion. “What would that have to do with anything? And why four and six?”

“They’re numbers that different cultures associate with the dead. Four, six, and also eight like the concentration points,” Wally explained, pointing to the different aspects. “Combined with the fibonacci spiral, one of the most common shapes that has often been associated with representing life, and it’s starting to look like this portal is a ritual for life and death.”

“It does,” Raven confirmed with a nod, stepping forward. “The method is old, it’s not really used anymore in modern techniques because of how simplistic it is. It leaves too much up to the one performing the ritual, which means there’s a much larger chance for error. Was this all they had? This was enough for them to get it to work?”

It was a little alarming to hear Raven and Wally imply that the Fenton couple had most likely unintentionally performed a rather old and risky mystic ritual or something instead of just messing with science. But what caused Danny to pause the most was Raven’s question if it had worked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that. He knew he should probably tell them the truth, but he didn’t exactly like talking about that event.

Unfortunately Sam didn’t seem to share his reluctance. “It didn’t work,” she admitted a little too bluntly, causing Danny to flinch. “From what I heard nothing at all happened when they turned it on. It wasn’t until Danny was looking around inside it that it actually activated.”

That revelation caused a few reactions of surprise from the others who didn’t already know, and Danny couldn’t help squeezing his left hand as a faint memory caused it to burn with phantom pain, crawling up his arm.

“Wait- You were inside the portal when it activated?!” Wally burst, gaping at Danny in extreme concern.

It was hard to figure out how to answer without having to fall too far back into the memory of that event, which caused Danny to remain quiet for a stretch of time, pressing his thumb into his palm tightly as his gaze couldn’t focus on anything for the moment. Eventually he forced himself to meet Wally’s gaze, drawing a slightly shuddering breath before answering. “...What?... Did you think I got this way by drinking ectoplasm or something?” he tried to joke, but the tremor in his voice made it fail.

No one seemed to know how to respond to that, realizing that Danny had ended up half dead because of an accident with an unstable lab experiment. Something that Wally was no stranger to himself, but it still something he wasn’t pleased to hear.

With the awkward silence, Jason gave a small huff and strode forward to semi roughly cup his hand on the back of Danny’s head and ruffle his hair a little. “Guess that’s one way to do it,” he muttered, just to break the silence and try to provide some sort of comfort.

With his comment, Raven took that as a chance to voice her own questions. “...Were either of your parents present when it happened?” she asked, confusion prompting her.

“...No, they weren’t even home,” Danny confirmed, feeling defensive in case Raven was going to say something to blame them or something.

She didn’t have anything to say about Jack and Maddie’s actions though, instead falling into an even more confused, thoughtful silence. “...That doesn’t make any sense…,” she muttered absently.

“What’s the anomaly?” Damian asked, prompting her to speak more.

“There was no offer of intent,” Raven responded, looking up and accepting the unspoken direction to explain. “This arrangement is the bare minimum material construction for an inter realm gateway. But because of that there are parts of the ritual that are missing, that still have to be fulfilled for it to work. Mainly payment, and instruction of intent. These days the intent is usually inscribed into the array to facilitate clarity and stability, and the payment is usually in the form of something being added to the array with the intent to sacrifice it.”

“Wait- So all those stereotypes of people being sacrificed to summoning rituals and stuff isn’t baseless?” Tucker sputtered, immediately associating Raven’s choice of words for meaning human sacrifices.

“Living people are one of the highest forms of payment, so unfortunately it can be common to use them,” Raven confirmed. “But even so, there has to be someone else there to express the desire to use them as payment, and determine what for. Which, from what you’ve all explained, there wasn’t anyone there to do so. I can’t imagine any of you wanting to kill Danny, and I doubt he was trying to offer himself since none of you even knew that was a requirement.”

“Hold up- Are you saying the portal only opened because it took Danny as a sacrifice?!” Danielle blurted, subconsciously stepping in front of Danny defensively.

“Excuse me!?” Jazz gasped, also moving forward.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense for what you’re telling me to have worked,” Raven insisted defensively, withdrawing slightly. “If it was a temporary portal I can understand if there was somehow an annulment of payment since the cost is much smaller. But considering the portal has remained open all this time that must mean a standing contract of sorts was established. Especially when we consider Danny’s state as a perfect liminal being. It seems like the Liminal Realm adopted Danny as one of its own in return for allowing a permanent connection to be established. An equal exchange, a link between two realms with a being who represents that connection.”

“That’s impossible,” Danny snapped, rising to his feet again. “I don’t know what realms you’ve worked with, but the Infinite Realms don’t function like that. Getting into them is probably a lot harder than I thought, sure. But there had to be someone there. The realm wouldn’t just…kill me on its own.”

“The realm of Hell is well known for taking the lives of people any chance it can. Especially those who mess around with rituals unknowingly. If you can’t imagine anyone who was there having a clear intent to sacrifice you, then it would have had to have been the realm itself choosing to take you,” Raven explained, forcing herself to remain calm and not trying to be antagonistic.

“Well I don’t know anything about Hell, but out of the two of us I’m pretty sure I know the most about the Infinite Realms,” Danny snapped back, memories of other people not being willing to listen to him about important matters causing him to get quickly irritated from anxiousness. “So when I tell you that it doesn’t operate that way, then believe me. There might not be much in the way of laws inside the Infinite Realms, but that’s because the highest law that the Realm has is that everyone always has a choice.”

“How do you know that for certain?” Bruce asked, his voice much calmer than the others as he was only trying to add data to back up that apparent fact. He was also trying to help the two children break off their argument by giving them another person to address, but it didn’t quite work.

“Because I’m not the Ghost King!” Danny exclaimed, having the brief thought that he should probably settle down and destress as he was rapidly starting to feel dizzy, but being too invested in the conversation to listen to his own mind. He couldn’t allow another misunderstanding about the Infinite Realms to persist. Not again. “Clockwork said we always have a choice, and it listened when I said no- It accepted me saying no, even though that meant there’d be no king. It wouldn’t-...” he broke off as the dizziness suddenly increased, causing him to sway and be unable to keep himself standing as he put his hands to his head. His face felt hot despite the rest of him starting to feel frigid.

Luckily Wally was quick to zip over to him and catch him, pulling Danny close and crouching carefully to help him partially lay down without being on the floor.

“Danny!”

There were several people who called his name out of varying levels of concern, but there wasn’t much they could do without crowding as Dick made it to their side first.

“...His fever spiked,” Dick informed after resting the back of his hand on Danny’s cheek and forehead. Danny didn’t respond, his head was still spinning, but he wasn’t surprised. Stupid him and pushing himself too far. Again.

“S… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stress him out,” Raven apologized readily, her hands gripping each other in front of her.

“We know you didn’t. The conversation simply got out of hand,” Damian consoled as Tim brought the discarded blanket from before over to the others to get Danny bundled up again.

“Yeah well… telling someone they were murdered instead of dying accidentally is kind of a big deal,” Jason pointed out, feeling a bit snippy from his own unsettled emotions.

“Regardless, I think we’ve learned enough to know we should try something else,” Wally spoke up before anyone could react to that comment. “We can problem solve other issues later if needed, but it’s probably best to conclude for the rest of the day.” And to enforce that statement more he scooped Danny up to prepare to take him back up to bed. “Bruce, let’s bypass the Infinite Realms. Do you think they’d be up for having a realm frequency scan at the Watchtower? Maybe this weekend? It’ll probably be better to just try to connect directly to their realm instead of dropping them off in the connecting one.”

It was a good idea from what they had just learned, even if they had originally explored this possibility to try to use something the kids were familiar with. Bruce nodded in agreement. “I’ll make arrangements. Thank you for your time today.”

Nodding back to Bruce, Wally turned to head back up stairs with Dick following to bring the IV pole along. “Alright kiddo, let’s go back to taking a break,” he commented to Danny, who just let out a grumbled noise of annoyance as well as discomfort while shrinking into the blanket. It earned a chuckle from Wally, who could understand the frustration the boy had even if he couldn’t personally relate. “At least you had an actual meal today. I hear you’ve been stuck to bread and broth for now, which totally suuuucks.”

It was idle chatter as they took the stairs, but it did help Danny feel a little less like a weakling. As they left Tim saved the progress they made on the computer, then turned to look at Danielle since she was the easiest to get answers from. “What did he mean by Ghost King? I wasn’t aware that the Liminal or Infinite Realm or whatever had a monarchy.”

“Eh, we didn’t know for a long time either. But since everyone is allowed to make their own choices, a long time ago some ghost named Pariah Dark made himself king because no one could beat him and he was greedy. But a couple years ago Danny kicked his butt, and some people wanted him to be the new Ghost King because of that. He said no though, so now there’s currently an anarchy,” Danielle explained easily, shrugging.

“He said no to being a king?” Jason asked, both confused and mildly impressed.

“Ruling a realm is a lot to ask of a fourteen year old. Especially a realm full of chaotic ghosts who are apparently only there because they were too stubborn to fully die,” Danielle answered, folding her arms with a mild chuckle.

“That, and Danny didn’t think it counted because he was using a suit that enhanced his abilities a hundred fold,” Sam added.

“Over time he’ll probably get to the same level anyway. But the suit disappeared, so it wasn’t like keeping the title from anyone that challenged him would be easy either,” Tucker added on top of the others.

“He had enough to deal with trying to balance school, hiding from our parents, and dealing with the other ghosts causing trouble. He didn’t need to add ruling a realm on top of that,” Jazz enforced, having always agreed with Danny’s decision.

“Smart,” Jason acknowledged, though he wasn’t sure if he would make the same choice. Ditching the rest of highschool to become a king for a realm with very few people actually didn't sound all that bad.

“My turn for a question,” Danielle spoke up, raising her hand unnecessarily and earning some snickers.

“Sure, what’s up?” Stephanie accepted, feeling it was only fair the visitors got to ask their own questions.

“It’s actually more for Raven,” Danielle clarified, pointing to the girl. “Earlier, when we were doing the whole ritual thingy to get ectoplasm, you mentioned that Danny and I are favored by other realms. And just now you said that the ectoplasm was a gift to me from the Infinite Realm, and talked about how the Realm was the one that took Danny. But I thought realms weren’t sentient…… Are they?”

It was a question that mildly surprised Raven, but she was happy to clarify and elaborate further. “No, they’re not actually sentient in the sense that the realm itself has a mind of its own. Realms have often been mentioned to act, or favor someone, or behave in some manner akin to sentience because it’s easier for people to understand in some regards. But really it’s just the result of the cumulative thoughts and emotions of the beings who belong to that realm. The reason you and Danny are favored by the Liminal Realm is more because the people of the realm seem to like you.”

“Wha- really?” Danielle blinked, openly confused despite that explanation also having made some sense. “I always thought most of the people there didn’t like us.”

“Most of the other ghosts do seem to like picking fights with you two when they show up,” Sam agreed, finding it amusing that the Infinite Realm’s people apparently had favorites.

“Well… like is probably not the correct word,” Raven admitted. “They ‘favor’ you in some manner.”

“I thought being a favorite was just a more intense form of liking something,” Tucker countered, that clarification having not mitigated his confusion at all.

“People always have favorites. But they’re not always nice to their favorites. A favorite punching bag, for example,” Raven tried again, this time earning understanding nods and being able to move on. “Now if you’re wondering why you were given a gift from the realm, when someone is a Realm's favorite they're usually bestowed with special privileges and abilities. Like how Superman seems to be pretty indestructible. Batman has some unusually lucky situations. Things like that. Those boons are normally spread between all who are favorites of the realm. But it is possible when there's only one, distinct favorite they could become more akin to that of a god. I’ve noticed that you and Danny have a rather distinct connection to the Liminal Realm that makes me think you’re quite favored in varying regards.”

“Wait, hold on,” Tucker sputtered, realizing something from Raven’s suggestions. “Are you implying that Danny might be getting, I dunno, new powers or something, because the other ghosts really like using him as a punching bag?”

The connection being said aloud earned a barked laugh from Jason and Stephanie, but Raven only gave a slight smile. “Perhaps,” she half agreed. “It’s a potential that could happen based on what I’ve read and heard.”

“HA! Poor kids,” Stephanie snorted, “At least you’re given stuff to fight back with.”

“Yeaaaah being the favorite child is starting to not seem like a good thing,” Danielle chuckled along with her in good nature.

“So…,” Tim started, pulling them back to a connected issue, “Back to the more uncomfortable part of this. Danny being used as a sacrifice to open that portal was essentially because… enough people in the Liminal Realm were aware of him, aware of the event, and willing to use him?”

“That’s… an accurate way to put it,” Raven admitted, though she wasn’t completely sure herself either. “Based on what I’ve heard, and using simple logic, that would make sense. But I don’t know how true it is, since I don’t know what the Realm was like at the time the portal was opened. There could have been a specific person there, it could have been a collective desire… I don’t know. But I’m fairly certain Danny is the reason the portal is open.”

It was a somber thought, but Tucker couldn’t help shuddering as another thought came to mind. “Makes you wonder how Vlad got his portal to work.”

“You say that like you actually believe the man hasn’t already killed someone before,” Sam retorted dryly, unimpressed.

“...Fair point,” Tucker agreed.

“.... Aaaaand Vlad is?” Tim prodded, starting to think this was someone they should know about after that exchange.

“The guy that created me, and almost killed me,” Danielle responded bluntly, expression going decidedly neutral.

“A sick freak that wants to kill Danny’s dad so he can marry his mom and adopt him as his own child,” Sam added, folding her arms.

“...Ooookay. Write that down Tim. We do not make friends with this Vlad guy, and definitely keep him away from these guys,” Stephanie prodded, poking at Tim since he still had the keyboard for the computer, earning a few snickers from the others.

_________________

Iiiii couldn't manage to focus on anything else to work on today, so I ended up catching up on what I had written |D Lot's of headcanon in this one.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[drinkabletoxicdishsoap]

the fandom’s characterization of peri becoming a father to dev will always be interesting to me because where it did it even come from ???

I mean in operation birthday takeback, bro CLEARLY did not care. He honestly seemed so disinterested and didn’t even care when they went into his dad’s private office by accident. He didn’t seem care or smile for his godkid when he was happy. Even got a little mean when Hazel made a nice wish for him with the rocket boots (“Well that should keep him entertained for about 10 minutes” or smth like that)

Lost in Fairy World he didn’t really seem to care either??? he really only just wanted his wand and to ‘look good’ in front of his godkid and do things his way without his parents interfering. Sort of like how a babysitter wants to look good in front of the family of the kid they’re looking after if that makes sense.

The only time we ever seen him actually care about dev was in the finale when he said that. But even after fairy world got turned to normal he didn’t really seem sad about dev??? he was just smiling after, seemed genuine too and not a fake one. Maybe it’s just me, but if I was a fairy and lost my first godkid, who took over my home, I would be doing anything BUT smiling, even if we won in the end. Peri doesn’t seem like one to hide his emotions easily either (maybe I’m reading into his character wrong)

You could bring up best of luck, which I would say is a fair point, but I’m going to bring back the babysitter/job synonym. Wouldn’t you get jealous of the person that stole your position or place in a work environment after you got fired?? Especially if your rival/enemy took that position?? I PERSONALLY don’t think the jealousy comes from a place of care, but maybe that’s just me.

It could honestly just be the fandom’s way of coping since Dev doesn’t seem to have any good people in his life after the finale, but why Peri? I mean if you really want to make one of the fairies a father figure to dev, I’d say the anti fairies more over are his family but that’s IF we have to choose.

Don’t get me wrong, I do think all of the peri and dev being a father son duo is super cute and heartwarming!! I love seeing all of the art and fics of that because it really is sweet :3 but to me, it just doesn’t really make sense and seems more out of character for Peri if anything.

He seems to care more about following Da Rules in my opinion. And while I do think it’s important to follow rules, especially when it comes to a job, you shouldn’t rely on them. At a job, you shouldn’t be constantly looking over rules to make sure you’re following them, you might end up tripping over yourself. That’s what Peri ended up doing.

If I assign the duo as anything, it would be the tired babysitter who just wants to get paid and the kid he’s looking after. A dude working a 9-5 at his job he couldn’t really care less about (dev).

I mean (only from his words) he wanted to go into the family business. Not because he genuinely cares for kids, but because it’s what his family has done. He’s treating godparenting as work, not stepping into a kids family and genuinely looking after them.

I do wonder if he would act the same way if he had an easier godkid.

BUT!!!! that’s just my thoughts. I’m sorry if I got anything wrong and feel me to correct me if I did !! Also if you disagree with anything that I’m saying, tell me why in either the replies or reblogs !! I would love to hear other people’s perspectives or opinions.

That’s it 😨 thank you so much for coming to another yap session and I hope you have a great day/night wherever you are in the world <3

[burntoutdaydreamer]

3 Steps to Improve Your Characters and Make Them Three-Dimensional

So I don’t have a process for creating/developing characters (to me the process is intuitive to the point where I wouldn’t even know how to explain it), but I do have a process for revising characters that just… fall flat, for whatever reason. 

I like to get to know my characters by throwing them into a bunch of different situations and seeing how they react, but sometimes that’s not enough. In these cases I need to go back to the drawing board and figure out how to make them not feel like a cardboard caricature of the role I need them to fill. Here’s the process I use, and it involves three key questions to understand what makes your character tick.

1) What is this character’s fundamental belief- either about the world or themself?

2) Where does this belief come from?

3) How does this belief hinder them, and are they capable of growing past it?

Alright, here’s what the process looks like in action. 

Let’s say I have a character I need to flesh out for my story.

Character A is a middle aged coffee shop owner and the protagonist of her story. The central conflict of the story revolves around trying to save the family run coffee shop she inherited from her father when he passed away, which has recently fallen on hard times.

What is this character's fundamental belief?

Character A believes that the world is an inherently good and fair place. She believes that good is always rewarded and bad is always punished, even if the timing isn't always perfect. As such, she strives to live a virtuous life, putting as much good into the world as she possibly can. While she understands that even good people can face hard times, she believes that in the long term, if things don't work out, it'll be because she didn't put in the work needed to turn things around.

Where does this belief come from?

Character A grew up in a solidly middle class household with good parents that treated her well- rewarding her for good work, and fairly punishing her for misdeeds. Her parents gave her everything she needed, but also expected her to work hard for the things she wanted. She also had the experience of watching her father build a successful business through hard work and by building strong connections with the people in town. If we want to push this further, we could also say that this belief was reaffirmed by watching her brother ruin his own life, squandering all his money and goodwill with those around him on failed get-rich-quick-schemes and outright scams that landed him in jail.

How does this belief hinder them, and are they capable of growing past it?

Let's say that Character A recently hired a barista who seems perfect for the job. Strapped for help, she gets him started right away before getting the results of his background check. When the results come in, she finds out that he is on probation and was recently released from jail for a violent crime. Shocked, she fires him. Believing that people who end up in jail always deserve it, she can't see past her initial prejudices. As a result, her coffee shop suffers from the loss of her new star barista.

Some time goes on, and Character A encounters the barista again, and learns more about the circumstances that landed him in jail (maybe he was falsely convicted, maybe he was battling psychosis, maybe the violent act was done to prevent a loved one- anything that makes her question her initial assumptions). He then confesses that he is struggling to provide for himself and his family because no one will hire him because of his criminal record. Character A comes to realize that her belief isn't completely true, and that the world isn't entirely fair. Though it takes a lot of inner work to do so, including coming to terms with her privilege, she eventually accepts this, and revises her beliefs. She decides that even though the world isn't fair, people have the responsibility to make it fair.

She decides to re-hire the barista she fired. After doing everything she can to make things right with him, she proposes an idea she wants his help with. Together, they transform her family business into a joint coffee shop and community rehabilitation center. In addition to selling coffee, they also launch a program to provide resources to recently incarcerated individuals looking to reenter society. They'll host weekly events on job interview coaching, alcoholics anonymous, motivational speeches, group therapy, opportunities to connect with open-minded employers, and more. Their promotion of this new program enables them to secure funding from local patrons and public grants, and customers are willing to pay for more expensive coffee with the knowledge that that money will be put to good use.

Additionally, if we want to go with the brother in jail backstory, we could have this ending be an opportunity for her to reconnect with him and maybe even repair their relationship as she gets to see him in a new light.

Main Takeaways

And there you have it!

You can use this process on any character- protagonist, antagonist, side character, etc. By grounding your character's motivations and development in their beliefs, you can easily introduce depth and internal conflict while keeping everything connected to the themes and plot driving your story.

Depending on your character's role or your story's plot, the belief can be wide reaching and complex (such as a philosophy or ideology), or specific and personal (such as having to do with their self-esteem). Either way, it should always be tied to their personal experiences or observations. This doesn't necessarily mean a tragic backstory. It could be, but I encourage you not to make this your default way of creating character depth. A mundane but grounded and sincere motivation will always be more compelling than cheap, dark shock factor.

Generally, protagonists with happy endings and villains with successful redemption arcs are capable of moving past their beliefs, while tragic heroes and antagonists aren't, and this failure is usually the source of their downfall. Keep in mind that even if characters do move past their old beliefs, it will always be a difficult thing to do. It will require them to confront their own mistakes, biases, and emotional wounds, and require both internal and external work in order to fix whatever their old beliefs have damaged.

Hopefully this guide will help you approach your characters from a different perspective. Feel free to share any insights.

Happy writing y'all!

[luna-the-cretar]

Im gonna be honest here, the only OUAW ship I WANT to be canon is Coalecroux

And it’s not just because I ship Coalecroux. If that was the case, then id also want Frostbek to be canon, when I don’t want it to be (not bc I dislike Frostbek—I fucking adore it—but because I personally don’t think any romance would help Frost or Torbek’s characters or character arcs—same with Gricko and Grimmorning for the same reason)

No, I want Coalecroux for be canon because I’m 99% sure that Gideon and Kremy’s character arcs are kinda BANKING on Coalecroux becoming canon.

Let me explain;

(Spoilers and VERY long explanation/rambling below)

Gideon’s character arc—now that I took a moment to actually think about it after rewatching episode 18, and thinking more about Gideon’s conversation with Mrs Snake-Snake—involves him learning to allow himself to feel sadness and letting himself love, romantically and platonically.

“But Gideon already clearly loves and feels sadness” I hear you say. Well…yes and no? Gideon very clearly loves his friends, that much is obvious. But I don’t think he himself has actually acknowledged the fact that he does love his friends, or that he loves them as much as he does. Kremy and Twig in particular. Based on Gideon’s reaction to his portraits, I think he was either expecting his Pa to appear in one of them (considering Gricko and Frost’s portraits), or was expecting the entire party to show up in the portraits (like Torbek’s). But it was just Kremy and Twig—the two he loves the most, but refuses to admit it to himself.

Or how about the fact that Gideon hasn’t really let himself feel sadness (or fear, for that matter)? He has clearly felt upset, don’t get me wrong, but he also usually masked it with anger. Like when Kremy revealed that Gideon was the one marrying the pixies. Gideon was upset and (rightfully) mad at Kremy, but he was very clearly scared (if his tone, body language, and the fact that he was doing how many shots of fireball to calm himself was any indication). And that fear showed itself even further when Kremy calmed Gideon down. Or with Twig’s death. Gideon was angry at Bavlorna, sure, but he was also genuinely sad, hiding behind (or maybe being overshadowed by) his anger.

Even when he was stuck as a kempestri and couldn’t move very well (since he traded away his ability to dance), and ended up trading some of his fire to help them find the pixie camp, he was as dejected as he was frustrated (probably at himself, the situation, and just…everything, really. Poor guy had a ROUGH day tbh)

I could keep going on about Gideon specifically, but I still want to talk about Kremy and this is long enough, so…Kremy.

Kremy, Kremy, Kremy. Where do I even begin with Mr Kremy Lecroux? For one, let’s start with his character arc, which is another one I didn’t catch until late into the season (with a specific conversation with Pincushion), but upon a rewatch of the early episodes, has made me realize this was a thing as early as episode 6? 7? Whatever, it’s the lying thing. Though…it’s not JUST the lying thing, because it’s similar to Gideon’s, just…different. Because Kremy KNOWS about his feelings (towards a variety of things and people), but refuses to acknowledge them, and just outright lie about said feelings.

And it’s not just his feelings towards Gideon—tho it’s primarily what I’ll be focusing on—but also his feelings towards a variety of things. Like, for example, the unicorn thing (until he decided to finally embrace his love for unicorns once they really started getting settled into the Feywild).

Anyway, Kremy’s character arc—from my understanding—is not only about him letting himself feel comfortable in enjoying the things he does and feeling the things he feels, but also just…not relying on the lies he hides behind as much.

I mean, look at how Kremy acted at the Witchlight Carnival, the moment his ability to lie was taken away. He immediately became nervous, jumpy, trying to spin his words into half-truths, or just outright not saying anything—almost as if in fear that he might reveal something he definitely doesn’t want to be revealed (not now, at least). Or how about that one episode (don’t remember which one) where he had his outburst and called Gideon his husband (“You will not talk to my husband that way”)? The entire episode—before it was revealed he couldn’t lie—Kremy was quieter than usual, aside from planning.

Or, better yet, how about his fight with Pincushion when they first met? Kremy was trying to lie and bully his way into getting Pincushion to do what they want, and it wasn’t working. In fact, Torbek was the one who got Pincushion to listen to them, by doing the exact opposite of what Kremy was doing. And iirc, Pincushion even told Kremy that lying and bullying won’t just make people listen and do whatever he wanted—especially not in the Feywild.

And obviously, I can’t say for certain how Season 2 is gonna go (if we even GET a season 2 at this point ffs), but also…I DO know that Gideon and Kremy are so emotionally constipated and refuse to acknowledge their own feelings for anyone and anything. And I also get a feeling that, somehow, either Coalecroux becoming canon would either help end their respective arcs, or help begin the end of said arcs (if that makes sense?)

Idk, this is really long and probably doesn’t make any sense, so apologies for that

[gffa]

It is still absolutely a marvel to me how much BATFAMILY fic I have been reading and enjoying, it's been awhile since I've gone at such a sustained fever pitch so consistently, which is because this fandom keeps putting out fic that makes me fall in love all over again, along with all the comics I've been reading and enjoying. I am so delighted by how I can bounce around various eras or characters (well, let's be fair, I still have a Dick Grayson Problem That I Am Making Your Problem Too) and there's so much to read that I'm having trouble keeping up!

Join me in having the best problem: Too much good fic to read, because I swear that even when I'm crying because fic has punched me in the feelings, I'm still having a great time and it's definitely not a trap to lure you all into crying with me. Well, unless you're into that. And, in that case, READ AND CRY AND/OR MELT INTO GOO WITH ME, BECAUSE FANDOM IS PROVIDING.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ Step One: Learning to Catch by TheBlueMoo, dick & bruce, 2k     “Okay, now extend your arms.” It was jarring, Bruce reflected, to be taking instructions from his nine-year-old ward. He was trying to think of it as receiving lessons from an expert gymnast instead, but it wasn’t really helping. or Dick freaks out during training one night, and Bruce isn't entirely sure why ✦ the quiet noise by orphan_account, dick & clark & jim (& bruce), 3.4k     When Batman is in surgery after a stab wound to the lung, Commissioner Gordon sits with Robin at the hospital as they wait for someone from the league to arrive. ✦ The art of falling in the rain by Bob_the_bastard, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.4k     Ordinarily it wouldn’t have been an issue, ordinarily Bruce would have taken a few steps back, caught his breath and continued on. But that night wasn’t normal. ✦ Our roots will not whither away by KrazySuperGirl, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 6.4k     Bruce and Dick return to Gotham. There are plenty of problems and plenty of good days. ✦ Will Protect You From All Around You by zombiesbecrazy, dick & bruce, 3k     Bruce has always expected that one day he'll wake up and feel like a Real Adult, but it hasn't happened yet. Why had he thought that this parenting thing would be easy? ✦ Fly South by SonoSvegliato, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.9k     Birds fly south in winter. Robin leaves in the summer. ✦ Vertigo by tinycrown, dick & bruce & ollie & cast, 1.8k     After being ambushed by Count Vertigo's men, Batman's partner isn't doing so well. Green Arrow observes. ✦ Friends by mx_chrx99, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k     The manor loomed large, surrounded by acres of manicured grass and trees bursting with autumnal colors that made Dick feel like he was gazing at a forest on fire. He was distantly aware that the scene in front of him was incredible, something out of a storybook. He should have been amazed and even grateful, but all he could think was, 'Mom would have loved this.' ✦ There For You by Val_Creative, dick & bruce & cast, 2.4k     Snapshots of how Robin came to be Batman's trusted partner and how Dick became Bruce's beloved son. /Standalone. No pairings. ✦ tummy troubles by brandywine421, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.5k     Bruce sat down on the edge of the bed and warily pulled back the covers. Dick blinked at him with wide, sad blue eyes. "What's wrong?" "Don't feel good," he murmured, scowling when Bruce curled his hand against his cheek. "My stomach hurts." ✦ Stay a Child by ijustwanttodestroy, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.2k     “Redo it,” Bruce orders. “Aw, come on!” Dick dares to pout — a thing that he uses often, and would work on anyone but Bruce and Alfred. Sometimes. Bruce gives him a look. “I’m not going to do it for you.” “I’m going to misdo it until you do,” Dick threatens. ✦ Whole, but not hale by Fae_Winter, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 1.5k     Bruce was never listening to Clark again, damnit ✦ Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes by catboysam, dick & bruce, 1k     Bruce wishes, as he has wished every minute of every day for nearly 20 years, that things were different for himself. But now he also wishes that for Dick. No child should have to experience what they have. But he really is selfish, it seems, because at the same time, how could he possibly want to give up a single second with this little miracle in his arms? ✦ yet to be friends by rxsecret, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 2.3k     It's the annual Wayne Gala, and one of the few reporters allowed at the event just so happened to be from Metropolis. ✦ And I’ll look into your eyes to find out if I’m real by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick, 1.6k     Bruce wants a lot of things. A bath. Seeing his family. Not having been missing for a whole year. He wants Dick to wake up and realize he’s not a hallucination.

BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ medicine by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, ~1k     “We have to get out of here,” Dick says, trying and failing to sit up. “Before, before they get back.” “Dick, listen to me. You’re sick,” Bruce says, running a hand through Dick’s hair. “You’re in an isolation unit at the Watchtower’s medical bay.” Dick shakes his head. That can’t be right. “They’re trying to, to poison me.” ✦ Someday All Of This Will Go Away by WanderIntoFics, dick & bruce, alternate version character death, 2.3k     Bruce never stopped telling Dick he loved him. It takes a heart-wrenching and terrifying experience with an alternate future Bruce for Dick to realize that maybe he stopped being able to hear it. ✦ vacation town by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 1.6k     Normally, Dick wouldn't enjoy recovering from a stab wound from a poisoned knife, but he has to admit, it's nice to be home. ✦ all i can by emavee, dick & bruce, 1.7k     Whatever they injected Dick with is taking away his senses. Bruce tries to hold on for both of them. ✦ my arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm by emavee, dick & bruce, 5.6k wip     Five times Dick held Bruce's hand, and one time Bruce held his. ✦ Moving on by Fleur_de_Violette, dick & bruce & cast, 2.7k     When he’d been called to Gotham, Dick had expected to do the job and then get moving to the next thing, and then the next, and then the next. An abrupt meeting with the side of a building interrupts his plans.

BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Chatterbox by Ptelea, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & donna & roy & cast, 24.7k     "Yeah, I'm fine," Dick said. Then he frowned, because he had not just meant to say that. Or: Eight times that spells or serums affected Dick's ability to speak and / or their aftermath. ✦ Misremembered and Misnumbered by miss_aphelion, bruce & dick & jason & clark & diana, 1.9k     Dick may not actually be quite as old as he told everyone he was. In his defense, it wasn't so much lying as that he sort of just forgot. ✦ WE'LL LIVE IN SPACES BETWEEN WALLS. by orpheusaki, bruce & dick & jason, time travel, 4.6k     (Something is different about Dick. Bruce notices.) ✦ Tonight Will Be a Memory Too by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & cass & bruce, 1.2k     They don’t happen often—once a month or so, with varying degrees of spottiness. Sometimes Dick will walk into a room and forget what he’s there for. He’ll forget the locations of things, like where he left his keys or where the refrigerator is. Once he forgot his own name. Even if the episodes don’t occur often, that doesn’t make them any less terrifying. ✦ Can I Sleep With You? by Lady_of_Lorule, dick & bruce & damian & titans & cast, 2k     “Dick? What is it? Are you okay?” he asked. “‘Had a nightmare,” the boy murmured, wiping at his nose quickly, then sending a darting look at Bruce. “Can I...can I sleep with you?” ✦ Broken Silence by Geeves, bruce & dick & cast, 1.3k     Bruce reflects on how quiet the manor used to be. It could be painful at times, but it's not like that anymore. ✦ the care and keeping of your baby talon by quandaries_and_contradictions, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & duke & alfred, reverse robins, talon!dick, 6k     In which everyone is more than a little cautious about the talon Duke brought home. Featuring chandelier swinging, Secret Garden reading, ill-advised sleuthing, and more. ✦ One, Two, Buckle My Shoe by Anonymous, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cast, 11.3k wip     Dick was twenty-eight. The boy in the mirror most certainly was not. ✦ Iron Bound by coyote_nebula, bruce & dick & jason, 3.1k     Batman never ran out of solutions. He just ran out of ideal solutions. Nightwing finds himself in a tight spot involving a compact car-sized paper roll. ✦ The Mantle by ValleyOfKings, dick & clark & diana & justice league (& bruce) & cast, 2.9k     Batman ‘dies’ and Dick must takes his place. He doesn't want the job but he knows that it is what he must do. He must accept the mantle and protect Gotham. The Justice League must also accept their new Batman. It might have helped if they knew that Batman didn't work as alone as they had once thought. ✦ Bravery, and everything that looks like it by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick & steph, 3.4k     Bruce had promised Dick a fun and chill weekend. Instead, they find themselves in the middle of a burning chemical facility. When he thinks everyone should have been evacuated, Nightwing finds a scientist trying to secure some sort of container. She’s either very brave, or she has a death wish.

BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I'M GONNA THROW HIM AT DICK BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY (AND MAYBE SOME OF HIS OTHER SIBLINGS TOO): ✦ Superhero: Dick Grayson by batmoniker, dick & jason & cast, 5.3k     In which Dick shows up at the school to pick Jason up after he gets into a fight. ✦ Homecoming by sElkieNight60, dick & jason & bruce, 1.2k     Jason's doped up on pain-meds. Dick's holding his hand while he's bedside monitor. Bruce probably wishes he had a camera. ✦ I do not have wings love (I never will) by dizarys, dick & jason & bruce, 2.5k     Jason Todd was alive. He was also bleeding out on Dick Grayson’s apartment floor. How 'Under the Red Hood' might have ended if Dick was at Bruce and Jason's final warehouse confrontation.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ cashmere-soft and irresistible by victoria_p (musesfool), cass/steph, ~1k     Cass and Steph and dumplings and lipstick. ✦ Picking Up Pieces by Cephalogod, bruce & steph & dick, 4k     “Bruce!” Steph called as she approached, weaving between people. His head snapped towards her, and the stark relief in his expression almost stopped her in her tracks. That was just...wrong. Bruce wasn’t supposed to be relieved to see her. He was supposed to be annoyed or resignedly amused, not looking at her like a life raft in the ocean. ✦ Make an Ass of U and Me by Huntress79, Sevidri, bruce/clark & dick, 11.2k     Bruce neglects to explain exactly who the attractive young man that seems to know him so well is, and what their relationship entails. Naturally, there are some misunderstandings. ✦ Presque Vu by PechoraFlow, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred & cast, 17.4k wip     Bruce gets amnesia and the Batfamily conspires to keep their vigilante side secret from him. They were just trying to keep him home, safe until he recovered. They expected that Bruce would pick up on clues and put together The Batman secret on his own. They didn't expect him to form a different picture entirely. They didn't expect Bruce Wayne would come to hate the Batman.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NO ONE WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ spread your wings by wingedgrace, dick & tim, 2.1k     “Why did you give Robin to Damian?” Dick pinched his nose. He’d started to pick up some of Batman’s habits, whether he realized it or not. “Tim, we’re not talking about this again. We’re talking about how you’re off on this… quest, to prove that Bruce is still alive. And I just want to talk. Come home.” ✦ Time Loop vs Ethiopia by AJElementus, dick & tim (& bruce & jason), 9.1k     In one universe, Jason died while Dick was on a space mission with the Titans. In another? There’s a time loop. In which Jason doesn’t die, Tim joins the family early, and Dick... well... Dick's just trying to figure out what's going on! ✦ so won't you stay, won't you stay (with me?) by dizarys, dick & tim, 1.3k     Tim's having a hard night. So where else does he go but to his big brother's apartment? ✦ under the wing by acrobats, dick & tim & cast, 1.4k     “Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero.” – Marc Brown

BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE'S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ buy back the secrets by sundiscus, tim/kon & bruce & clark & jason & cast, 71k wip     He takes a long, slow breath. Ignores the glares from the other students. “Superboy,” he murmurs. “It’s me. If you’re listening, I could use some help.” Or: 5 times Superboy saves Tim Drake, and one time Tim Drake saves Superboy. ✦ Can't Shake the Feeling by Hayleythewriter, tim/kon & tim/bernard & cassie & bart & dick & damian & cast, 17k     Tim introduces his boyfriend to his friends. Almost everyone likes him. ✦ The Electric Pull of Spring by Merelymine, tim/kon, nsfw, 4.3k     "I feel fine," Kon says, breathing deeply. He leans towards Tim and takes an even deeper, longer breath. "I feel really, really good, actually. And you smell—you smell really good." ✦ A No Good Very Bad Day by mademoisellePlume, tim/kon & jason & lois, read the tags, 3.7k     You’d think drugging a half-Kryptonian into sleep would be half as easy as taking a full Kryptonian out of commission. But no, life couldn’t be that simple for Jason, could it? He watched Superboy stumble down the hallway in his pyjama pants, eyes half-lidded and sweating like Two-Face when a flipped coin balanced on its edge. ✦ Pandora's Other Box by FridaysChild, tim/kon & dick & bart & kate & ma kent, 2.5k     Prompt: "Kon and Tim identify as straight. After realising their mutual attraction, they both freak out in different ways."

BATFAM FIC RECS - I SAY THIS IS A BATFAM REC LIST BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA SHOVE THOSE ASSHOLES OUT OF THE WAY AND READ SOME SUPERFIC: ✦ Adoptions by Kannika, clark & conner & cast, 2.7k     Clark prepared for a lot of things, getting closer to Conner. This is not one of them. ✦ Aftershock by sElkieNight60, clark/lois & conner & jon, 13k wip     He knows this is awkward for Clark. It’s awkward for them both. They were gonna start slow. Warm up to each other. Maybe go apple-picking in the summer. A movie, a restaurant, bowling, or something. But a sleepover, really? That wasn’t going slow. ✦ IS IT JUST YOU AND ME IN THE WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD? by orpheusaki, clark & conner & bruce & diana & jason & cast, 2.2k     "You look happy, Kal." She's right, Clark is overjoyed. In between shopping for children's clothes with Lois (after she'd gotten over the shock of it all, which was surprisingly quick. Clark thinks Lois might prefer Conner to him now, not that he blames her for it) and wandering around the Fortress of Solitude with a small palm tucked into his own, Clark hasn't stopped grinning, "Superman is no longer the only Kryptonian alive." (Clark saves Conner from CADMUS as a child AU.)

BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ oh but if I could choose, I would choose not to feel by dizarys, bruce & dick & donna & cast, 1.4k     His eyes flicked over the long room, evaluating and searching. When he finally spotted him, Bruce’s heart plummeted. Dick Grayson was slouched at the crumb flecked bar counter, staring blankly into a barely touched pint with a hand twisted in his hair. Misery personified. ✦ batman by hellsreluctantheir, dick & jason & tim & bruce, 57.3k     Dick came back from a trip to space to a dead father figure, a grieving, guilty little brother, and a legacy waiting for him. Suddenly he's moving back to Gotham, playing Bat, trying to keep Jason from spiraling, trying to keep himself from spiraling, with the added bonus of a kid stalking him at the grocery store. It takes two years before things start to feel like they're getting better. Which is right about when the Red Hood comes to town. ✦ Day 3 - Nightmares (2.2) by fanfictiongreenirises, bruce & dick & tim, 3.3k     Bruce is resigned to the nightmares after their most recent kidnapping. But that doesn't mean they don't have an impact on him. ✦ My Brother's Keeper by Chemical_Processes, dick & damian & tim & cast, 6.2k     Tim gets hit with Fear while on a league mission, and it's Damian's job to get him home in one piece. ✦ Pale Reflections by BearlyWriting, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cast, 2.6k     ‘Bruce blinks again. A chill breeze brushes against him, searching for a way through his uniform. Concrete, Bruce tells himself, it’s concrete, not sand. It’s water, not blood. It’s Dick. And yet, he’s as still as Jason was then, as lifeless. Bruce moves without thinking. He isn’t thinking. His mind is utterly blank, a void in his head.’ ✦ love brought weight to this heart by dizarys, bruce & dick & john & mary & damian & duke, 1.9k     Of course Dick came by every time Haly’s was in town. But he loved when his family was able to join him. And now, with lights illuminating the big top, performers streaming into the ring with flashy costumes, and his family enthralled, Dick felt at peace. Both sides of his life were together. It should’ve been perfect. And looking back, he still wasn’t sure what pushed it off course. But it might have been the fire. ✦ what's in a name by envysparkler, bruce & dick & jason, 4.5k     Kidnappers strike at a gala and abduct two of Bruce Wayne’s sons. Or at least that’s what they think. ✦ I’m gambling with the sun (on which one of us dies young) by dizarys, dick & jason & donna & roy & tim & damian & cassandra & cast, 6.9k     The Justice League have been wiped from existence by Pariah, leaving Nightwing to once again navigate the death of Batman. But this time, even with his siblings and friends rallying around him, the cracks start to show ✦ (someone told me) love would all save us by YouAreTheBrightest234 (TransLucas), bruce & dick & tim, 1k     Dick is floating in an abyss of black. It is not peaceful, yet not malicious. It simply is. ✦ Slipping 998° by CKBookish, bruce & dick & tim & cast, 2.5k     When a house fire turns deadly Bruce wonders if he will be too late... again.

[pixelartpeach]

GUZMA HEADCANON MASTERLIST

I have an unhealthy attachment to this guy

As such, I have had way too many thoughts about him and how he exists in my headcanons.

This is going to be your problem now.

Ahem.

BASICS

His full name is Guzmania Kala'i Sasaki. His mom picked out his name, and his first name came from the fact that when they first got their house, his parents' first housewarming gift was a guzmania bromeliad. Guzma thinks this is stupid and refuses to go by his full name.

His mom is Alolan. His dad is Kanjohni. His grandma on his dad's side is from Johto, and his grandpa was from Kanto.

Mom's name is Crysantha, dad's name is Nasu.

Only child. He quickly became way too much for his parents to handle.

His grandma is a former Kimono Girl, Miki (the one who gets harrassed on stage by a Rocket grunt in HG/SS), and her Flareon's name is Ichigo.

Was part of a mischief trio with Kukui and Molayne back when he was a kid.

POKÉMON TEAM

Six-teamer, and proud of it. Dustpan the Golisopod, Hazard the Ariados, Syrup the Masquerain, X the Vikavolt, Launchpad the Pinsir, and Tachi the Scizor. He only trains male Pokémon because he doesn't want to deal with eggs.

Dustpan: Caught as a Wimpod before he was licensed. 8-year-old Guzma went to the Akala beach with his parents, then lured a Wimpod into his backpack with cucumber sandwiches. Spent the whole ferry ride home trying to hide his squirming backpack. Dustpan lived under his bed for awhile, eating scraps of whatever Guzma tossed down there, and it took him AWHILE to trust the kid.

Hazard: Short for "Tripping Hazard," Guzma was supposed to do a report on local Pokémon for school and went hunting, then tripped over the Spinarak's web and lost him his prey. Hazard then proceeded to give him the biggest, saddest wet puppy eyes about it, so Guzma felt bad and caught him a Cutiefly. Hazard never stopped following him around after that.

Syrup: Caught at Brooklet Hill with a net, then when Guzma went to take him out of the net, covered his hand in sweet syrup (according to the Pokédex, they do that when scared to repel flying types). Guzma, gremlin he is, licked his hand, then decided to keep the Surskit.

X: Kukui, Molayne, and Guzma all went off trying to follow a poorly-drawn treasure map that had been tucked into a book in the school library. When they got to the "X" on the map, they dug it up, and found a Grubbin instead of treasure. The other two were disappointed, but Guzma got spiteful about it and loudly declared that obviously, the Grubbin was the treasure they were supposed to find, and caught it.

Launchpad: Caught in Johto during a bug catching contest while on vacation, can and will yeet anything on sight. Including Guzma and his friends. STILL can, even when they're all grown men. He's not the brightest, but he'll do anything Guzma asks enthusiastically.

Tachi: The only one Guzma didn't catch himself, the Kahuna of Ula'Ula had Guzma doing odd job requests when he lived in Tapu Village to help him get on his feet, and one of those requests was an old man from Malie asking for a Heracross. Guzma caught him the Heracross, and in exchange, got Tachi the Scyther, who had "a lot of fighting spirit, deserving of an expert battler."

BATTLING

Guzma trains his 'Mons with a clicker, or clicks his tongue when the clicker isn't available, and only shouts his moves when he's either dealing a final blow, cut off from quieter noises, or panicking. He also gives them hand signals. Whenever he starts off a fight, they'll look at him to see how they should be doing it: Hand held low for "cool it, not a serious fight," high for "stakes are high, fight with whatever you've got," and a finger across his neck for "don't hold back, destroy them."

Side note, Tachi had to be retrained on this system. His former trainer used a sports whistle.

For the most part, Guzma's team is well-enough trained to take on most fights without play-by-play direction. They just need a general nudge or signal: "stall for me," "play evasive," "tank the hit," and they'll figure the rest out. When they're unsure or he clicks for them to look, they'll glance his way for new direction.

Guzma is THE strongest trainer in Alola, barring the Champion, and a lot of that is because of his strategy. Type disadvantage and Pokémon effectiveness is only HALF the game; the other is figuring out what your opponent is trying to do, and throwing them off so they doubt their own strategy. He absolutely excels at the latter.

He crouches down when he battles so he can see things from a lower perspective, mostly to watch smaller Pokémon or to monitor larger ones' footwork. That it makes him look casually badass is a bonus point in his book.

FAMILY

Nasu Sasaki: Something of a brick wall of a man, he and Guzma share the same anger issues, but he's colder about it. Very reserved, very acutely aware of how he's perceived, and irritated that Guzma isn't. Plays golf to work out stress, because it's nice to hit something and watch it sail away. Holds himself to a high standard of perfection.

Crysantha Sasaki: The complete opposite, sweet and loving to the point of saccharine. Refuses to believe her family can do any wrong, will brush aside any wrongdoing with a smile. Scolds Guzma like a puppy when she's disappointed in him—picture the "Guzma, what's wrong with you?" line being said in a high-pitched, patronizing voice with hands on hips.

Miki Sasaki: Kimono Girl Miki. The only family Guzma's actually regularly in touch with of his own liking. Very traditionally Johtonian, loves Guzma and was proud of him as a kid, doesn't exactly approve of his gang activity, but lets him stay at her place and have tea whenever he likes. Has been BARELY on speaking terms with her son since the Golf Club Incident. Probably the reason Guzma hasn't dropped the "Sasaki" name, tbh.

Hideomi Sasaki: In HG/SS, he's the older guy with the Psyduck in the crowd when Miki's getting harrassed by the Rocket Grunt. From Kanto. He died of old age when Guzma was small, but Guzma has fond memories of building Palossand castles and finding shells with him.

HISTORY

Oh boy.

Always was a loud, brash kid. Very much a "fight" over "flight" when scared, and, much as he would refuse to admit it, he got scared a LOT.

Fueled by three things: fear, approval, and spite. Spite is what led to him becoming a Bug specialist; he had a Wimpod that he tried to send into battle, and when that didn't work out, he got mocked; bug-catchers aren't exactly respected, and he got teased relentlessly for it, people asking if he was going to send out a Metapod next and Harden it to death. So he leaned fully into the Bug-typing with the intent to destroy everyone in school with his team. He still never picked up a Caterpie, though.

Used to sneak out a lot. He had a rule to be home by curfew, but he broke it often, so his dad had his Houndoom watch after him from afar and drag him home if he ever got into trouble. That's all well and good, until one day when he was 7. He'd read in second-grade geology that peridots came from volcanic activity, got starry-eyed, and wanted to go to Ten Carat Hill to find treasure. Ten Carat Hill, however, is strictly off-limits, so his parents said no. Naturally, he snuck out after dark to go there anyways. The peak of Ten Carat is Rockruff territory. Guzma got cornered by a Midnight Lycanroc that was ready to gut him, but his dad's Houndoom fought it off...and lost. He ran home in tears to get help, but by the time they got back, she was done for. That Houndoom had been his dad's partner Pokémon back in Johto, since she was a little Houndour. Nasu never really forgave Guzma for killing his best friend, and Guzma grew up feeling like his dad would have picked the Houndoom over him any day.

Has had celebrity crushes on Cynthia, Diantha, and Steven Stone. He has a thing for people who look fancy.

Had a highschool relationship with Kahili, who he knew from following his dad to Akala to play golf. Mostly dated her because she could squarely own his old man in the field, and that was a fun feeling. Also why they broke up; she decided she didn't want to be his victory lap. Understandable breakup.

The golf club thing: A very, very, VERY bad day when Guzma was a teenager and he and his dad were in a yelling match, Nasu hit him in the back with one of the clubs once to teach him a lesson. It TERRIFIED Guzma. Less so about the damage itself, more that Nanu had crossed a line he couldn't take back, and what's to stop him from doing it again? So he took his dad's prized golf clubs up to Route 3, and spent the whole night smashing them against boulders and denting them beyond repair. Can't wield what's broken. Sort-of backfired, because his dad insisted that the golf clubs were kept on display after, that way whenever they had guests over, Guzma would be reminded that his "actions had consequences on people's opinions of him." Guzma HATES those clubs and the shame now associated with them and wants to throw them in the ocean.

Guzma DID finish his Island Challenge, unlike most of Skull. What he DIDN'T do was make it to Trial Captain, like he wanted. The cutoff for Captain, as in, when you're too old to even remain a Captain, is 20. It took until Guzma was 18-going-on-19 for the singular Melemele spot to open up, and then when it did, he got passed up...in favor of an 11-year-old Ilima and his partner Eevee. That night, he went home late after punching trees and breaking glass to try to burn off his anger, got scolded by his parents, and decided "fuck both of you, I'm leaving," and ran away.

His dad chased after him, they had a Pokémon battle in the middle of the nighttime woods, his team of bugs vs his dad's (young) Houndour. Guzma won, but Nasu wasn't having it, so he tried to drag him back home, and Guzma punched him in the face. It wasn't on purpose. He honestly didn't mean it, he let his anger get the better of him, but he broke his dad's nose. And, when Nasu looked at him, stunned, blood dripping down his face, he panicked and bolted.

Guzma went to Ula'Ula. First to his grandmother, who lives in Malie, then when his mother came asking for him, off to the Kahuna's place in Tapu Village.

Kukui came along to check on him, which turned into a yelling match that destroyed their friendship. It started with asking Guzma what was wrong, then when finding out about the Captain thing, told him not to worry about it, it's not a big deal, HE'D given up on that dream ages ago. Which, to Guzma, was a HUGE betrayal; it was a pact they'd made when they were 12! They were going to be Captains together! And now Kukui's going to kick him while he's down about it?!

Poor Molayne quietly fell to the wayside. He didn't want to take sides, and clearly Guzma wasn't in the mood to hear advice from a friend—doubly so, he reasoned, from one that HAD made the Captain spot. So the whole trio fell apart.

Now Kahuna Kalei...man, he almost deserves his own post. Bulu's Kahuna before Nanu. Psychic specialist. Wanted to be a therapist before he got assigned his role. Spent most of his time helping Alola's troubled youth. He was a really stand-up guy, giving them housing when they needed it, finding them jobs, helping them adjust to things, etc. Guzma went to him, and got a place as roommate to Plumeria, and that's how they met.

Kalei, however, wasn't a great Kahuna. Don't get me wrong, he was a fantastic guy...to humans. Too much so. He wanted Ula'Ula to have more tourist revenue, so he started the Recycling Plant, helped polish up Malie Garden, had the bus routes built...had Po Town built, without the Tapu's approval...had the Thrifty Megamart built, without the Tapu's approval... It was all well-intentioned, sure. The kids he was in charge of would have jobs, Ula'Ula would thrive economically, etc. But you don't DO things without Tapu approval, ESPECIALLY not when you're supposed to be the Tapu's mouthpiece. So Bulu removed his lifetime position. Forcefully.

Guzma didn't SEE Kalei die, but he was in Tapu Village when Bulu started rampaging. It felt like an earthquake, at first, then plants started growing through the ground. All the kids got evacuated to the PMC, which was, miraculously, left alone. He was 22 at this point.

Side note, right after, Po Town got cursed with rain as a gentle sign of Bulu's displeasure with the people living there without his say-so. "Leave, I don't want you here."

Everyone was scared, naturally. Guzma too. The issue is that when Guzma's scared, he hits back. So he eventually got fed up with everyone cowering and grieving and decided he was going to make his OWN place. So he stormed off to Po Town, Plumeria following to make sure he didn't go fully self-destructive, and took over the manor at the far end of town, then told any neighbors and cops that had a problem with it that they could try battling him to force him out. Nobody local was strong enough, and the cops honestly had more important things to do in the wake of Bulu's wrath than deal with some upstart kid in a house nobody technically owned.

Was the manor occupied? ...Technically. The previous owners were hastily moving out, spooked by the Kahuna's death and the Tapu's wrath. Guzma bullied them into cutting their losses and leaving most of their furniture and finery behind, and the rich vacation getaway people decided it was NOT worth sticking around for.

Guzma and Plumeria made the place their own. They graffitti'd whatever and wherever they wanted, they had wine, they partied. They called themselves Skullbusters and Guzma DELIGHTED in making the neighbors flinch. Then slowly, the neighbors started leaving, and slowly, the other kids Kalei looked after started filtering in, wanting a place with Guzma (and nudged that way by invitation from Plumeria).

There's a trial to get in. You have to battle Guzma. And then when you lose, which you inevitably will, when he asks if you think you deserve in, you yell "no!" with all your chest (the first few times, he had to tell them "I can't hear you!"). And THEN he'll let you in.

It started off with everyone getting their own room, then sharing, then cuddle piles, then taking over the houses as the rich neighbors fled the worsening conditions and rowdy new kids next door. Soon enough, Po Town was theirs. "Skullbusters" wound up being too much of a mouthful in the long run, so it got shortened to "Skull."

Plumeria became the face of Skull, and Guzma, the looming threat behind it. Plumeria LOVED those kids, both the originals around her age that were in Tapu Village, and the people who joined in after. So if you mess with them, you get her as a warning. And Tapus help you if she thinks you haven't learned your lesson, because she'll get the big guns.

This led to Guzma throwing his weight around Ula'Ula. Who was going to stop him? The Kahuna? Fully embraced the chaos, loved being feared for once instead of stepped on, he embraced his dramatic, theater-kid side and made a heel out of himself. "Greetings, cowering public!" is just the latest of his attention-grabbing mottos; he'd regularly remind Ula'Ula of his strength by putting up a show in Malie Garden and letting any tourist or local that felt brave enough try to challenge him, only for him to crush them.

It was good for funds. For food, for awhile, they had berries in pots (since those things grow like weeds and never go out of season in Alola); that's not nutritionally sound, though, so Skull started stealing. And when that landed them in too-hot water for doing it too often, eventually, some of them (Guzma included) bit the bullet and started raiding the old Megamart. After the first few times where none of them died, it became their more stable source of meals.

Clothes are all Spinarak and Ariados silk. Guzma kicked it off, and it's worked just fine for all of them since. Hair colors and contacts are both for anonymity and expression (and they're not all pink and blue; there's variation).

Anyways.

Nanu came along at some point, realized what was up, and decided not to do anything about it; he knows Guzma and Plumeria are actually taking care of these misfits and delinquents, so he doesn't see a reason to step in, and Guzma thinks he's lazy for it, but he doesn't care.

Guzma. 25, king of his roost. Gets contacted one day by Aether President Lusamine. She's seen his shows, she watched him fight in Malie, and she thinks he's exactly what she's looking for. She needs some...distractions, and he's got the manpower, the muscle, and the lack of a spotless reputation. He just needs to cause some trouble so Aether can do their thing without the professors getting in the way. Guzma sees that as two birds with one stone: Spite Kukui (and his wife, but Guzma doesn't really care about Burnet), AND make more of a name for the kids that follow him. He might be scary, but his grunts definitely aren't, so this is a win-win.

And things develop. Lusamine starts showering him with praise. He gets hooked on it. Falls into a relationship with this Ninetales. Tells her everything, to get validation that he was right in the decisions he's been insecure about. And he fights Plumeria on it whenever she sees the red flags.

And OH the red flags. Lusamine is a master manipulator, and Guzma is one of the most gullible guys in Alola. She'd tell him everything he wanted to hear, get him to do what she wanted, praised him perfectly...and then do the complete opposite whenever he was inadequate. She knew how to make insults HURT. She knew exactly what combination of things would have him angry, destroy his self confidence, shove him into a depressive slump, then come crawling back to her with mumbled apologies in the hopes that she'd take him back. She took full advantage of the fact that he'd always been a screw-up, to everyone, even his parents, and that he would always view her allowing him back into her good graces as a favor he didn't deserve.

It didn't take long to get him to the point that he would do anything for her. He ignored her "private collection," excusing it as a messed up way she was dealing with being a widow. He kidnapped Lillie for her, reasoning that it wasn't REALLY kidnapping, she was just a runaway 11-year-old who didn't know how good she had it (with a mom that adored her and doted on her) and who couldn't battle in the wild, so he was really doing something right by her.

Side note, Gladion's a different story. He tried to join Skull the way all the grunts had, but then got arrogant when faced with the question of "do you think you deserve to be here," which is why the grunts don't like him very much.

Back to present day. The fight against the will-be-Champion happens. And he gets beat. Publicly. Every. Single. Time. It makes him FURIOUS. The first time, it was just Dustpan and Hazard, so fine, he got cocky. But after that? Beating him in front of his own grunts? In front of Aether? He LOATHES that kid.

Then the thing with Ultra Space happens.

Guzma, stranded in an alien world because Madame Prez asked him to, tries to catch her a Nihilego. Gets parasitized by it. Freaks out—Nihilego amplify the emotion most core to your being, and while that's obsessive euphoria in Lusamine, it's sheer terror in Guzma. Every big decision he's ever made has been fueled by fear—either to get control of his life, or to avoid shame, or both.

So he tries to stop Lusamine, thinking it'll do the same to her, and she turns on him. And completely lays into him. Fueled by her goal being so close and his usefulness having evaporated now that she's finally here, and seeing him as the one obstacle to her sweet Nihilego, she tears him apart. Calls him useless. A failure. No wonder Alola hates him. No wonder his parents never seemed to be happy with him. She certainly never loved him, and he was an idiot for thinking so.

And then she left him. Crushed. In the nightmare dimension. To chase after her poisonous nightmare herself. And he...let her.

Another side note: He had a suit properly tailored in case she ever asked him to a dance at her fancy manor. You know, for business reasons, or...something. He held onto it for months hoping she would ask him. And then this.

So Sun/Moon's conclusion happens. He's rescued. He tries to go home to Po Town, full of very, VERY fresh wounds and completely destroyed. Plumeria tries to hug him from behind, he reacts on instinct, whips around- And punches her in the face. She drops. It was an accident. He didn't realize. Nihilego's still fresh in his mind, getting grabbed from behind and parasitized is still a very, VERY new fear, so he reacted on instinct. And now his best friend is on the floor, spitting up blood, and—is that a tooth?

So he runs away. Just like he did when he popped a right hook on his dad. He can't stand not being in control, it terrifies him, and he runs.

So where to go to now? Not Po Town, he just HIT his now-ex best friend. Not to his grandmother's, he's still cut open from everything Lusamine said and he can't handle the uncertainty of sweet words, plus the lingering fear that he'll somehow hurt Miki, too. Everyone hates him, and he doesn't even have a leg to stand on after being publicly humiliated by that Champion kid. He goes home. Says he was wrong like Lusamine trained him to do and begs his parents for forgiveness. Because at least he knows where he stands with them.

Skull comes around knocking, because of course they do. He's their boss! Who jumped into a terror dimension, came home, and had a breakdown! Is he okay? Does he need them? Nope. Skull's done, everyone get lost. He can't do this anymore.

Enter Guzma's depression arc.

That's usually all the backstory I give him when I'm about to play him in a text rp or write fanfic about him. Everything leads up to the depression arc.

Ahem.

APPEARANCE

6'6.25" (198.75 cm) when standing at full height. Otherwise, 6'2" when slouching. If he's asked, he ALWAYS includes the quarter inch. "Makes it more believable that way."

Scars: Nihilego tentacle scars on his shoulders, upper arms, around his waist, and curled around his ankle. Carvanha bite on his calf. A handful of cuts on his hands from punching glass. Strike marks from the Golf Club Incident.

He's got piebaldism and he HATES it. It's just one lock on his forehead, slightly skewed to the left, with a tiny patch of paler skin at the hairline. When he was growing up, he dyed it black, then when he moved out, he decided to be contrary and bleached it all white, minus his undercut.

Made all his Skull clothes with Hazard's silk. It's not the greatest job, the stitches are all uneven, but it works for him.

Got the tattoos on his arms after deciding on Skull's name, then, after Sun/Moon, covered them up with concealer.

LOVES his jacket. Will not toss it whatsoever. The inner lining is full of badly-patched holes. The X made of tape on the back, covering up the custom Skull embroidery, was ironed on to make it melt in.

The Pokétch on his wrist is a fancy one left behind in the manor. He also loves that and will not get rid of it. He likes gold.

Ears are pierced, though he hasn't worn them in awhile. Used to have amethyst-and-gold studs in them.

Caught all his 'Mons in Net and Nest Balls, then transferred them to Ultra Balls to look scarier for his Malie Garden shows.

His Team Skull glasses were originally eclipse glasses, hence the sun and moon shapes. He got those back with Kalei, and back when they functioned as eclipse glasses, he used to show off to the other teens that he could walk around flawlessly with them on. He eventually popped the black film and replaced it with actual shade lenses, then got a real pair of shades when he disbanded Skull.

Silver eyes. Got them from his dad, who got them from Miki.

His curls are from his mom, though.

PERSONALITY, MENTALITY, AND MANNERISMS

Rubs his neck when shy or sheepish

Fingers in his hair when he feels as if he's done something wrong (easy way to tell if embarrassment is getting to be too much for him)

Berates himself mostly because if nobody else does, he'll feel even worse.

Flips up his hood when he wants to avoid being looked at

If he's angry and you don't challenge him on it, eventually he deflates and falls into "whatever" mode.

High highs and low lows. ECSTATIC when something makes him happy, quick to get swept up in the moment. People are cheering for him, he'll ham it up. He's pleasantly surprised, he's picking up the nearest person and spinning them around.

Incredibly easy to woo. If asked, he'll tell you his types are "1, into me, 2, breathing." That's not entirely true, his type is "pretties up nicely and carries confidence," but when he falls, he falls hard. Does not make the first move for self-esteem reasons.

Likes to tease in conversation, definitely cannot take it like he dishes it. Very easily flustered and blushy. Also fistpumps to himself when he's done something right, romance or otherwise.

A showoff. Give him ANY reason to peacock, and you'll have trouble getting him to cool it. Including dumb things (like walking around with eclipse glasses).

Talks with a drawl and in street dialect. He's always had something of a lazy voice when he enunciates, but he picked up the dramatic "bad guy" talk when he was a kid to look tough, from TV. His mom was NOT pleased about it and has yet to break him out of the habit.

MISC

Massive sweet tooth. Loves Tapu Cocoa, of course, but just generally a sugar bug. Likes Litchi and Pecha soda, and when he's in a drinking mood, either champagne or shochu highball.

Obv, depressed as all hell. But he's been swinging in and out of that for longer than he realizes; he's a very crash-and-burn kind of guy. Kick him at the wrong moment, and he sinks into self loathing and apathy, but give him something to get pumped about, and he's right there at the front with the megaphone. In school, this was apathy towards grades, tempered with enthusiasm after winning a battle, tempered back to sadness with disappointment on not getting first in a competition, and so on. In Skull, it was a week or so of sulking on the couch, drinking too much cocoa, before finding a reason to crush someone and party it up with the grunts again with a victory lap. He'd recognize his current state, being apathetic and tired at home with no upswing, as being depression, but before that? What are you talking about, he just had off-weeks.

Cutiefly are attracted to people with auras like flowers, according to their 'Dex entry. Guzma happens to be one of those people. He hates it, because they nest in his hair and look adorable, and HE is DESTRUCTION IN HUMAN FORM, thank YOU.

Has a taste for luxury. Knows what wine pairs with what, likes owning finery and sleeping in high-thread-count Swablu-down beds, knows how to dance just about any dance you can name.

Speaking of dancing, if you ask him, he'll say he's good at exactly three things: fighting, dancing, and surfing. Fighting encompasses both fistfights and battles, he KILLS it on the dance floor, and he's a showoff with tricks when he surfs.

Also speaking of dancing, owns the entire leaderboard of dance arcade games. Not just the high score, has gotten the high score on the hardest songs enough times that he's the ONLY score.

Knows basically anything about any Bug-type on Alola you can name, from prey to predators to ecological niche, and so on. Of course, HIS bugs are his specialty, but he made a point of being the expert.

Bisexual. Did not know bisexual was a thing for the majority of his life, thought people consciously picked one they liked more and (at first) found it annoying that people would lament not liking the other gender and get cliquey about it. Plumeria looked at him like he'd grown a second head when he first told her that (it was during their roommate phase under Kalei; she's a lesbian).

An ace at Voltorb Flip. Not an infallible ace, but enough that he more or less has to be dragged out when he's on a winning streak.

Used to pick up bottles from the Route 2 PMC's cafe and take them to Route 3 to smash them and burn off steam, then bring back the glass for recycling.

His usual order at that PMC was Tapu Cocoa with a dash of almond extract and a pinch of cinnamon, along with a square of butter mochi.

Won 2nd place in the Johto Bug Catching Contest, earning a silver bug net and taking home Launchpad the Pinsir.

Speaks Common (which is NOT English; my version of Pokémon world has a lingua franca everyone speaks that uses that weird alphabet nobody can translate), Johtonian, and Alolan. His Johtonian is better than his Alolan.

Went to Lake of the Sunne/Moone to relax whenever he needed alone time away from Team Skull.

Likes the rain, and since Skull, has trouble sleeping without it.

Decent singing voice. Not great, but good enough for karaoke.

Does NOT want kids, despite his experience with Skull's new recruits. Would not trust himself to be a dad.

Loves Kaiju movies, like Tyrannizilla vs Mothrim. Thinks Dynamax battles are peak entertainment.

Has a thing for normally-put-together people with messy hair and messed-up makeup. Especially if he's the reason for it.

Would be killer at drums if he took them up. Sometimes when I have him breaking out of his depression arc, I give him drums to hit instead of needing to smash glass.

Needs to take better care of his hair. I mean, he washes and combs it, sure, but he also bleaches it, and thinks "bodywash" and "shampoo" are interchangeable things.

The Tapus let him live after the whole "unleashing horrors on the island" thing because Bulu actually doesn't hate Guzma. He sees Guzma as filling the niche in Alola's ecosystem Kalei left behind, and being better at it.

Has a silver Lugia feather from his grandmother, as a graduation gift for when he finished school. It's strung on a cord necklace with glass and silver beads. He left it at his parents' house when he ran away from home way back when.

Anyone else grabbing his hair is an instant freeze from him. Not a pleasant one. It's so ingrained with his self-loathing tendencies that it starts to trigger a panic response.

And THAT is all the stuff that is currently coming to mind. I'm sure I have a lot more but I've been at this for over three hours and that's honestly too much already.

[tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness]

Sarevok's situation with Rieltar and the Iron Throne

There's a lot of room for guessing the details of Sarevok's life in the Iron Throne, but you have the outline of his situation. It's not as good as one might expect for the son of a leader, and it's vital in shaping his character. Sarevok becomes who he is because of his past and current situation. He's a character with depth, nuances, ambitions and motivations, not a flat, cardboard villain planted on his throne in an underground sewer, waiting for the murder race of 1492 DR.

This got way too long, you've been warned.

Because Baldur's Gate 1 has been out for so long, you tend to forget that Sarevok being the greater mastermind of the evil plot is a twist in the story. From the prologue, you know about the 'ominous figure', but not who he is, and it falls in the background when you get into the iron crisis- a crisis that has nothing to do with Gorion's ward. Sarevok is the foster son of Rieltar Anchev, a leader within the Iron Throne. It's a criminal organization where Sarevok is a member, but not a leader. It should be a cushy position, but it isn't. Let's see why.

First, let's recall the setting of Sarevok being adopted by Rieltar:

Sarevok is a homeless, orphaned child. He describes himself as an 'urchin', meaning he likely resorted to stealing and other mischief to live on the streets.

Rieltar is a wealthy man, a 'higher-up' within the Iron Throne, a mercantile organization with shady practices, a gang of sorts, closer to bandits than merchants.

I don't think I need to spell out how dodgy the whole thing is.

How Sarevok gets adopted is left up to the player, but a few things are certain. Sarevok is part of a vulnerable population, while Rieltar is of the upper class. Sarevok has no person nor structure to turn to should he need help. As a child, he entirely depends on Rieltar. Hunger, thirst, housing, clothes, other material needs and various threats that comes with being a homeless child, all of this gets taken care of if Sarevok stays with Rieltar. It's priceless, and a child wouldn't think past no longer being cold or hungry. Sarevok is affiliated to the Iron Throne from a young age, when he couldn't decide otherwise.

Sarevok is not a leader. it's his foster father, Rieltar, who is the leader of the western branch of the Iron Throne. The 'chief of operations'. He has two co-leaders with him, Brunos Costak and Thaldorn Tenhevich. Sarevok is the commander of their mercenary forces of the region, one of Rieltar's officer. Compared to Rieltar's own status, Sarevok's role is minor. There isn't as much nepotism going on as you might expect from a criminal organization passing off as a legitimate mercantile group.

The first time Sarevok is mentioned, he's a passing name in a letter found in the bandit camp, not a master mind- and that's how it was supposed to be.

Tazok, I have noticed that your shipments of iron have slowed of late. It is imperative that we receive another ton of ore. Step up your raids, and get a shipment to our base in Cloakwood within the next week. We need to stockpile as much ore as possible before our ultimatum is given. Also, Sarevok wants to know what has happened with the band of mercenaries. Have they been killed? You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news. Davaeorn

It's the first hint you get that he isn't like the rest of the Iron Throne. His own focus is more on the mercenaries disrupting the iron plot, more than the plot itself.

One interesting thing here:

"You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news."

-> Davaeorn is threatening Tazok with Sarevok, but Davaeorn himself isn't worried. Davaeorn could be nervous that Sarevok, son of the big boss, may cause him trouble if he doesn't get what he wants, but he isn't. No reason to think Sarevok is anything more than another Throne member.

After defeating Davaeorn, you find letters on him from Rieltar himself. In one, Sarevok's role and title are clearly stated:

"Davaeorn, Our plans go smoothly. Sarevok has arrived from our headquarters in Ordulin. He brings news from our superiors; they are pleased with our progress so far. I plan to place Sarevok as the commander of our mercenary forces in the region. He has already sent his subordinate, Tazok, to the Wood of Sharp Teeth to take command of the forces located there. Things go apace here in Baldur's Gate. We have placed our first agent among the ranks of the Seven Suns trading coster. Rieltar Flamerule, 1367"

It's not said in the letter that Sarevok is Rieltar's son. He is going to be named commander of the mercenary forces of the region. It's a new title, so I'd say his previous rank was equal or lower.

During your first stay in Baldur's Gate, you discover Sarevok is the foster son of Rieltar Anchev. Being the son of a wealthy man explains how Sarevok manages to get within the noble circles of the city for his popularity campaign, which I talked about in another post. Here's one interesting thing I got from this:

"From what I've heard, the new man with the Iron Throne, Sarevok, is an unmarried man."

-> He's considered new, however, the story starts in Mirthul (May) 1368, and from Sarevok's diary and another letter, you know he's been in Baldur's Gate in 1366, went back to Sembia at some point, then returned in Flamerule (July) 1367. That's two years on and off the Sword Coast and almost one full year on it, not to mention he's been in the Throne since an early age, but he's seen as new.

Sarevok's presence may not be public because he's working with the bandits, however, not knowing about Rieltar's son is common. Yeslick Orothiar is a companion who moved to Sembia where he met Rieltar. He pretended to befriend Yeslick, then tortured him to learn the location of the Cloackwood mines. Yeslick was in Sembia, and he doesn't mention Sarevok, or recognizes him when he comes to the party under a false name. So it's not just in Baldur's Gate, even back in Sembia, before Sarevok was commander, Rieltar doesn't mention his foster son— or the fact that he has one.

It can be explained by how Rieltar and other higher-up of the Throne see Sarevok, both his capacities and how far he can go. One telling example is during the Candlekeep chapter. Gorion's ward is going after Rieltar, the big bad at the time. You can go to Rieltar with the advice of 'Koveras', who tells you Rieltar is defenceless and this is the perfect time to kill him. He even gives you a nice ring to protect you. If you start digging through Koveras' dialogue, you might find something's odd with him and decide you don't want the ring. Joke's on you, it won't change a damn thing. Don't be too quick to laugh at Sarevok for only switching his name backward to change identity, it worked on Charname and their whole party (also worked on me when I was ten and had a pikachu face during the reveal).

Rieltar is a lot quicker to catch up than Charname though.

"Koveras! Who is Kove... of course. It seems I taught my son all too well. Well, my young pups, you've been set up to be used as dupes. Koveras does not want what's best for you, but rather what's best for him."

-> There's a brief moment of outrage before Rieltar realizes who Koveras is. The realization doesn't anger him more, it makes him calm down. He doesn't see Sarevok as a threat. It's unlikely he thinks Sarevok's plan goes beyond killing him, when it's in fact much more elaborate than that. Other Throne members straight out of Sembia underestimate how dangerous Sarevok is.

Here are a few more examples:

"She seemed surprised that Sarevok had taken control of this regional base. He is thought of as an upstart"

Kalessia: I have been sent from Sembia to determine why this branch of the Iron Throne has floundered [...]. Valdis (Charname): Why not ask Sarevok? He seems to be the one in control now. Kalessia: Sarevok? That upstart? Then the rumors I have heard are true. Our regional leaders here are dead and Sarevok has assumed their roles. Such arrogance! No doubt he has a hand in their demise, I'll wager. [..]

-> The outrage these criminals feel toward Sarevok's, well, criminal actions against them will never not be funny to me. Kalessia calls Sarevok an 'upstart'. She doesn't sound any more worried than Rieltar was, she sounds pissed that he would dare to do this. Also, she thinks he participated in the demise of their leaders, not that he orchestrated the whole thing. As if he isn't capable of it. I will stress this again, but Sarevok is the foster son of a high-ranking member of the Throne with wealth and influence. Yet, they talk about him as if he's of low rank. Somehow, I don't think the Iron Throne is a progressive organization that thinks wealth and social status shouldn't determine an individual's worth.

Later, inside the Undercity, you come across more people working for the Iron Throne. You get the following dialogue from two dialogue paths.

"We've been sent to hunt down Sarevok. Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way, including Rieltar, and the Throne don't take too well to having their high-ups killed."

"He doesn't seem that skilled at making friends. I am Rahvin, in the employ of the Iron Throne. My companions and I have traveled from Sembia to learn what has been happening to our operation in Baldur's Gate."

They're off to kill Sarevok. Just like that. Like he's just another guy with a bounty on his head. The twist of BG 1 is not only realizing Sarevok is the true antagonist, it's realizing Sarevok is not just a brute working for the Throne, he's a major threat to the Sword Coast and far from stupid. That's something characters who only know of Sarevok what is known in Sembia and have just arrived in Baldur's Gate don't realize. He has overthrown the entire leadership of the Iron Throne in the region, almost got the whole leadership of Baldur's Gate as well and they're simply going to 'hunt him down'. The way they talk about him is also telling:

"Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way"

-> He's talking about Sarevok as if he was a dog who went rabid, not someone who actively orchestrated the downfall of his employer.

"He doesn't seem that skilled at making friends."

-> Sarevok had the entire city eating out of his hand, he was about to be lawfully elected Grand Duke. Sarevok is skilled at making friends, when he needs them— and, when he has the right background to make the right friends. For example when he's known as the foster son of a wealthy business man without anyone knowing anything beyond that, like in Baldur's Gate. Something that's more complicated in Sembia, where people around him would already know he used to be a penniless urchin until Rieltar adopted him.

When you encounter characters working for Sarevok, rather than characters he works for, you get a different image of him, one that's closer to what you encounter in the game. There are two kinds, first, the zealots, those who already worship him as a new god.

"You have breached an inner circle, fool. There are no hired lackeys for you to bribe here [...]. We are servants of Sarevok and Sarevok alone, selected by hand to protect his destiny. [...] His will... be done!"

"So it has been decreed, so it shall be done. So orders Sarevok!"

-> Sarevok doesn't know how to make 'friends' in the strict sense of the term, but he knows how to be charismatic. He got servants to worship him before his actual godhood. These followers aren't part of the Throne, Sarevok independently recruited them to be his first faithful. Which is smart, considering gods in Forgotten Realms get stronger with more fervent and more numerous followers. Sarevok is planning ahead so he already has worshippers when he's a god.

If you played SoD (which is mid writing wise, but has good moments), you'll find that Sarevok's charisma struck again with other nondescripts fanatics.

"S. and I had a long talk last night. Everything he says make so much sense."

The other group of people are Sarevok's own underlings. These are mercenaries he recruited who are unaffiliated to the Iron Throne and only answer to him. You get interesting dialogue from Diarmid.

"Not a terribly original alias to be sure, but who is going to tell him that? Sarevok is quite used to getting his own way, and I gather subtlety is something that doesn't quite come naturally to him. He doesn't have the patience for it, though his mind is amazingly tactical. Certainly this made him perfect for organizing the Iron Throne's mercenary forces, though I doubt his superiors would say so now, what with his plot to have them killed. Such is the trouble with hiring highly motivated people. As underlings we can safely serve, but woe to those in a position he desires."

-> Is Diarmid scared of Sarevok? Yes. Does he respect him? Also yes, which increases the 'fear' part, I think.

Diarmid is a mercenary who's been working with Sarevok for weeks, maybe months. What he knows of Sarevok is surface level, but it doesn't match what other characters, who've been around Sarevok since Sembia know of him. Here are how different visions contradict each other:

"She [Kalessia] seemed surprised that Sarevok had taken control of this regional base." VS "[...] though his mind is amazingly tactical. Certainly this made him perfect for organizing the Iron Throne's mercenary forces [...]" / "Such is the trouble with hiring highly motivated people."

"Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way [...]" VS "[...] I doubt his superiors would say so now, what with his plot to have them killed." / "[...] woe to those in a position he desires."

Characters within the Throne are not supposed to know about Sarevok's plans, but they all react as if his behavior is an anomaly, they're blindsided. Yet, these plans match what Sarevok's mercenaries know of him: "have a tendency to only give information on a need-to-know basis"; "notoriously impatient"; "quite used to getting his own way"; "subtlety doesn't quite come naturally to him"; "his mind is amazingly tactical"; "highly motivated"; "woe to those in a position he desires"; "wouldn't sully his hands on those he didn't deem worthy of personally killing".

The Sembians's reaction is more understandable when you read the following letter, written by Sarevok to Rieltar. Sarevok's tone isn't what you would expect from him.

Father, I received your letter, and I can assure you that the mercenaries led by <Gorion's ward> will no longer trouble our operations. I have dealt with them personally. Before dying, they were most forthcoming in their revelations. It is as you had surmised: They were agents of the Zhentarim. I am also writing to tell you that I cannot attend the meeting at Candlekeep. Some problems have arisen with the Chill and the Blacktalons. They have had trouble working with each other, and I am needed there to smooth over any dissension. I am sorry that I will not be at your side. Sarevok

This letter reads like a dutiful son from start to finish. It's also a pack of lies from start to finish. Everything he says goes along Rieltar's own opinion, to placate him. The perfect son and officer, committed to his role. And it works, since Rieltar doesn't suspect Sarevok until he's told of 'Koveras'. You can assume the dutiful, uncompromising tone of the letter was the front Sarevok presented to Rieltar, and to other members of the Throne.

Reading Sarevok's diary, you see this is a front he has to present. Remember how Sarevok was named commander of the mercenary forces by Rieltar? Well, he wasn't even supposed to be part of his foster father's project.

"I have expressed interest to my 'father', and he has promised to include me within the operations along the Sword Coast. He mentioned Mother in our conversation: how I wasn't to be unfaithful to him as she had. He made it clear that I would suffer her fate if I was."

-> What a lovely father-son relationship. Anyways, if Rieltar had his way, Sarevok wouldn't have been commander, he would've left him in Sembia. Sarevok had to ask to be given a role. You'd expect the son a wealthy man to have a prime spot saved for him in his big project.

The next part of the excerpt is, in my opinion, the core to explaining the dissonance between what people from the Throne perceived of Sarevok, and what he's truly like. Rieltar threatens Sarevok, and that shows what this 'father-son' relationship really is about. For those who don't know, Sarevok's foster mother, who to this day doesn't have a canon name, was 'unfaithful' to Rieltar. It might be she cheated on him, but since it's never stated clearly, you could go with something else. Like trying and failing to kill her abusive husband, for example. As a punishment, Rieltar strangled her with a garrote in front of Sarevok when he was young.

Rieltar doesn't just threaten Sarevok, he reminds him of his place, which is the same as his mother. It's my guess that this is why he murdered her in front of Sarevok to begin with, so he would learn his place as a 'family member'. Someone Rieltar has complete authority over, including a right of life and death.

Sarevok brushes off the threats, but he does that as an adult and experienced fighter who is already planning to kill Rieltar and crush his operations. He wasn't always in that position. For the urchin Rieltar adopted, this threat wasn't 'weak' or 'hollow'.

This would explain why, despite being the 'foster son' of a wealthy and influential member, Sarevok is seen as an 'upstart' without a place in the upper ranks of the Throne. Because he is not his son to them, he is the urchin 'sponging off' Rieltar.

Another piece of the journal gives a little more information.

"The fool still insists on calling me his son, and for now I will let him. He assumes that I am loyal to him because he raised me."

-> Rieltar is confident in Sarevok's loyalty because he raised him. He provided for him and considers that should make Sarevok loyal no matter what. Even though Rieltar adopted Sarevok, their social classes are still very distinct. He's the one with the money and Sarevok should be grateful he spent some on him. 'Son' isn't an affectionate term (if the death threat above didn't make that clear), it's the reminder of what Sarevok 'owes' Rieltar. It would explain why Rieltar rarely mentions him. He has a debtor, not a son. When he discovers his plot to kill him, Rieltar says Sarevok wants 'what's best for him'. He knows why Sarevok wants out of this situation— he's the one who created it. Hence the threat. The devoted front is something Sarevok has to show, to ensure his own safety and the success of his plans.

Now I will go into a more 'grey' territory regarding a bunch of things that can't be checked with canon but are worth considering because of the situation:

First, does Sarevok have money? Rieltar does, yes. Sarevok works in the same group at a lower rank, he's both Rieltar's 'son' and his employee. As a commander, he likely has allotted money, but that's not his gold, that's for his job. Chances are he either doesn't get paid because he's working 'for the family' and that's another thing to be grateful for, or he does get money for his work, from Rieltar. Either way, Rieltar is the one who has control over Sarevok's finances. It's a good way to restrain him, and ensure his loyalty, since he won't get far without gold. Sarevok lived on the street before, he has ambitions, it's unlikely he's willing to rough it out again and be a homeless nobody. Rieltar surrounds himself with people he has control over, like his co-leaders: Brunos is dumb, and Thaldorn is a coward. They defer to Rieltar, who likely has an easy time controlling both. Having Sarevok at an officer position allows Rieltar to keep a leash on him, which fits his pattern.

Second, Sarevok has two genuine relationships that we know of. One was with his foster mother, and the other with his lover, Tamoko. If he had any real connections while living in the streets, they'd have ended once he joined Rieltar's household. Growing up, he'd be surrounded by people from the Iron Throne. The lowest in ranks would be under Rieltar's authority, and those of higher rank would only see the urchin Rieltar pulled out of the gutter. It's likely there were few children his age or anyone he could trust and build a relationship with. His connections are to characters he works for, and those who work for him. He's isolated, he doesn't have allies. That's another way for Rieltar to restrain him. There's the uncertainty of what 'unfaithfulness' means to Rieltar. Does Sarevok having someone he cares about gets in the way of being the devoted son Rieltar wants? Would the threat he makes on Sarevok's life include anyone important to him? It's possible. It would make any relationship Sarevok could have a weakness, which would impact how he views them. I would imagine he'd fight any feelings he developed for Tamoko before giving in, and he wouldn't introduce her to the man who murdered his mother. Having any attachment in this situation becomes a drawback.

Third, could Sarevok leave the Iron Throne if he wanted? Criminal groups rarely offer retirement. He's been involved since Rieltar adopted him, he's been working with them for years, and likely knows the group's inner workings well. The Throne is a criminal organization that wants to keep a legitimate front. With everything Sarevok knows, it wouldn't be smart to let go of him. Unless it's off a cliff. He's probably not an isolated case either. Youth with nothing to their names and no better options are easy to recruit and make good underlings.

Recap and conclusion:

Sarevok was pulled from poverty at a young age by Rieltar, a wealthy man who's part of a criminal organization. Through the murder of his wife, he's shown that he gives himself total authority over his family, and will harshly punish any form of rebellion. Growing up with Rieltar, Sarevok was affiliated to the Iron Throne from a young age and became another member. All that time, he remained under Rieltar's thumb, acting the part of the loyal son, while not showing anything that might cause suspicion. It's no surprise Sarevok charmed the city of Baldur's Gate when he has been fronting his whole life for Rieltar and the Throne, downplaying his ambitions and capacities. He doesn't appear as the true antagonist until late in the game, when he turns on the Iron Throne. They're blindsided and unable to fight back, while Baldur's gate is ready to name him Grand Duke. It's a victory on every front. He outsmarts the entire Iron Throne, the leadership of Baldur's Gate, he has the city eating out of his hand, he believes he's on his way to become a god. He used the organization that used him, got revenge for his mother's murder, his years of abuse, and had the nobles at his feet. He failed the godhood part, but he beat odds stacked against him. The urchin from the streets of Sembia rose higher than anyone ever thought possible.

It's important because Sarevok's situation connects to a game's theme and to his misbeliefs. One of Baldur's Gate theme is that your choices matter more than your nature- which is the direct opposite of one of Sarevok's own misbelief. He is convinced his nature as Bhaalspawn predestines him for violence and destruction. The most telling example is in ToB during dialogue if you're trying to change Sarevok's alignment.

"And do you believe I have another choice?"

"After… after all you have been through? With the taint in your soul, you still believe this?"

If you reply positive, you wreck his world enough to make him speechless. And enough to trigger his alignment change. It's a deeply rooted belief, one that affects how he interacts with the world around him, and it's directly connected to his past. Sarevok is also convinced he needs the ability to dominate others, hence his quest for power.

"I… don't understand. What is the use of power if you do not carve out an empire for yourself?"

Sarevok grew up first in the streets, where he was prey to all manners of dangers. Then, he was in a brutal and callous household where his freedom and his life were conditioned by his obedience. It's not said how long he's been working for the Throne, but likely as soon as he could fight. Growing through this, violence would be an everyday part of Sarevok's world, and of himself. He views the world through that twisted lens, where the strong crushes the weak. Learning he's a spawn from a god of murder would cement that belief by giving meaning to that violence. Sarevok isn't a wealthy, privileged man greedy for more power, he's someone from an impoverished background who only views his relation to others and the world as either having others at your mercy, or being at the mercy of others. And he's been the one preyed on for a large chunk of his life. By seeking power, he ensures control not only over his own life, but over other people's lives, because if he controls them, they can't control him.

Sarevok was shaped by his environment, which allowed him to survive, but also messed up his adult life. He has no genuine relationship, they're all transactional. Cythandria, who will brag about loyalty, is with him for wealth, power and sex. Sarevok knows that, he's with her for similar reasons. They're intimate, but their self-interest comes first. Winski Perorate is 'loyal' because he's getting his divine glory by proxy through Sarevok. They follow Sarevok because they get something out of him and he keeps them around for the same reasons. Tamoko is an anomaly in this, because Sarevok caught feelings. Feelings he wasn't equipped to handle because they couldn't fit with his mindset. That's the core tragedy of their relationship, it was doomed from the start, even without the game's events. Tamoko loves Sarevok without wanting anything from him but his company, and he cannot believe that. I made a post about them, and I do think he leaves her because the taint would push him to kill her if she stayed, but I also think it's easy for the taint to manipulate Sarevok, because he's predisposed to believing the worst. Being with Tamoko required effort, because it challenged Sarevok's mindset. Her betrayal confirmed it: he let someone get too close without check and got stabbed in the back.

While Tamoko didn't fully understand Sarevok, she's the on who sums up the situation best:

"You had Gorion to guide you did you not? Sarevok had no one. He draws his strength from his hatred, from the thought of rising above those he knows to be inferior."

In BG 1, Sarevok doesn't fail because he's weaker than Gorion's ward, he's more powerful when you face him, but he's holding on to misbeliefs that make him the puppet of the taint, whereas Charname is master of their own choices, harnessing the taint or rejecting its control. But there is nothing about Charname's nature that is superior to Sarevok and vice versa. The one thing that separates them is the past that shaped them.

Sarevok's story is tragic. He doesn't become a ruthless man because of his nature, but because he was young, alone and poor. Those around him exploited that. His situation gives nuance to his character, enough to make you feel for him. Even when he's only the antagonist, he has depth, and ToB further improves his writing, making a point to show his duality and his struggle to change, to uproot himself from the soil he grew up in. Sarevok never is a one-dimensionnal character, not as a villain, and not as a companion.

[sealedterror]

Stellaron Hunters and Astral Express Parallels

So, I've noticed that the Stellaron Hunters are basically a darker, murdery, and morally grey parallel version of the more heroic Astral Express, with every member mirroring another from the other group. Two sides of the same coin, if you will. First thing I'd like to point out, both factions don't really follow any current aeon. They "follow" (very loose term here) the missing-in action Akivili and the "Destiny" that Elio forsees. Both factions also are deeply involved with Stellarons(we encounter a stellaron on every planet, the Stellaron Hunters hunt them. Obviously) Here's some similarities I've thought of between the members and some theories based off each other: !!SPOILERS AHEAD!!

Dan Heng and Blade:

Both from Xianzhou,

Immortal in some way(Blade's self-regenerating and Dan Heng's reincarnations)

Same gender

Dan heng's five star form enhances his basic attack, like Blade, who I BET was ALSO a four star before the mara and Jing Liu incident

Similar age? Don't really know exact timeline between them

Both feature flowers in their gameplay(lotus flowers and spider lilies)

Himeko and Kafka:

Both intelligent women

The pseudo-moms of their faction.

I might be pulling out of my ass here, but I'd like to point out that both of them use both a ranged weapon(Himeko's laser and Kafka's gun) and also a melee weapon(Kafka's katana and Himeko's grator).

Since they are each others parallel, I'd like to make the assumption that since Himeko was the first one to join the Astral Express, that Kafka was the first one to join Elio. It just fits with the known info we have and clears up any ambiguity, but you don't have to strictly adhere by it lol.

Pom Pom and Elio

"Animals" yeah right

The being who leads their group in the direction wanted(conducter, scriptwriter, best destiny, best path to blaze)

You assume they are the cute mascot at first, but then there is something...exceptional about them, that you can't quite pin down.

Both are sentient and can presumably talk(Elio might just write to communicate, how would that work though? Toe beans? Meow to text? Lmao)

Wait....with synestheia beacons that's actually very possible. Oh god

March 7th and Silver Wolf(HEAR ME OUT)

The trendy, youthful girl of the group

....Use of technology?

yeah i got nothing BUTBUTBUT

March 7th's mysterious pasttttt. Like, the similarities between Danheng and Blade weren't revealed until his five star form was revealed and I'm making the theory that when March 7th's mysterious past is revealed, the similarities between her and Silver Wolf will appear!!!!

So Silver Wolf is from Punklord, is extremely accomplished and powerful, chaotic neutral with a sense of wanderlust. I don't know much about her(don't have her character/character story) so I can't say much more, but what I do know seems pretty plausible for March's former self.

It supports my theory that March 7th's five star form will be Nihility. Imbibiter Lunae was Destruction, like Blade. The memokeeper in March's quest said her past would "only bring her pain". How nihilistic is that? Either way, I'm definitely pulling xD

Stelle/Caleus and Firefly/Sam(the best for last ;)

So this is the one that really cemented this theory into my mind. So far, you might have noticed that every member's mirror image is the same gender(with the exception of Catlio and PomPom, I'll talk about it in the comments). But Trailblazer has TWO genders/personas. You know who ALSO has two genders/personas?FIREFLY/SAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some theory and more similarities between them

They both are the explosive power powerhouse of their group(Stellaron and Sam's firepower)

Both pretty smart(dubious) and funny(hilarious, the both of them)

They both eat questionable things...Trailblazer's trash consumables and Firefly's woodchip Oak Cake(seriously, read the description, do they have iron stomachs or something??)

...So they might have iron stomachs.

Both were presumably artificially made. We know Firefly/Sam is(born to fight in a war) and the Trailblazer is a vessel of a Stellaron. There has to be some funky, wonky, genetic/biological makeup for that.

Welt Yang and no one lmao

Lonely ass old man, no ship?(making the no bitches face)

Anyway, I presume he doesn't have any parallel bc he's from another universe. I don't know much cause I haven't played Honkai Impact. Something about a comic and "herscherr"? Idrk but. I suppose Luocha could join the Stellaron Hunters. That would be crazy as hell and if it happens I CALLED IT, but it probably won't. Probably.

There is also the theory Sunday joined the Stellaron Hunters. It's honestly really interesting and if that's true.....Welt Yang and Sunday don't have any similarities so that's tossed out the window. So, that only leaves the possibilty that we will have a mirrored someone of Sunday joining the Astral Express in the future. That would be INSANE but fun as hell like, can you imagine?

On another, slightly less speculative note, I'd like to point out that the five stars of the Astral Express have the same paths as the Stellaron Hunters. DHIL and Blade, are both Destruction. The Trailblazer started off as Destruction and Firefly/Sam is Destruction. As I theorized above, March 7th's five star form is likely Nihility, just like Silver Wolf. Except for Himeko and Kafka. Hmmmm

It is also my theory that Kafka was supposed to be Erudition, like Himeko, but the Stellaron Disaster on her homeplanet altered her path to Nihility. We know how smart Kafka is and we've seen paths change, Dan Heng changed to Hunt after doing away his vidyadhara features, and we have switched paths multiple times now. But we know we and Dan Heng can switch between paths anytime. I think Kafka's case is different, in that she can't switch and the Stellaron permanently altered her, removing her fear and switching her Path.

So this concludes my rant, are you convinced yet ;)? It's really interesting that the two factions mirror each other so deeply. I am getting the message that, whatever our fates are, they are deeply intertwined.

Thanks a bunch for reading this far and please, let me know what you think! May the Trailblaze be with you....or something lol

Edit: AAAAAA, Firefly's pool cutscene!!! She said, and I quote "The Astral Express and the Stellaron Hunters are like light and shadow. We walk on different paths, intertwined, moving forward and growing together...Maybe the end is predestined, but, it is not today."

Idgaf, I'm taking this as confirmation!! My theories are becoming true!!!!! *high pitched squealing* Show me more, Honkai Star Rail!!!!

[flowersandmiel]

Why I relate to Kyotaro Sugishita as an autistic person: a compilation of his autistic traits (with manga screenshots!)

This is PART 1

Here's PART 2 (Read part one first!)

Okay so, this is going to be me pointing out certain character traits in Kyotaro Sugishita that, all added together, make me headcanon him as autistic, or read his character through an autistic lens :)

Quick disclaimer, I am officially diagnosed, but I am not a doctor myself, so I apologise in advance if I misused certain medical terms, I've tried to only use those I believe are the right ones, but, 1. english isn't my native language, so I wasn't diagnosed and told about my characteristics/symptoms in english, 2. many terms in the autistic community have been evolving recently and/or have been pointed out to be inaccurate. (I am open to editing these two posts if needed to use the right terms!! :) but be nice about it!)

(Also I'm doing this because when I first started watching Wind Breaker, I didn't headcanon him as autistic at all. I was literally just like "Damn he's so relatable, but not in an autistic sense! Not all characters I relate to have to have autistic traits! He's just awkward guy and that's the only reason I relate to him! :D" And then while analyzing his character in relation to Sakura I suddenly went like "oh shit he's actual kind of autistic coded LMAO")

Soooo, let's go! :D and also, SPOILERS for the manga!!!!! (and really long post ahead)

Physical sensory issues: Kyotaro has preferences for the texture and tightness of his clothes, and he hates tying his hair up or having it cut. (Hating haircuts is a very common and well-known autistic trait)

[From his character page, at the end of chapter 3]

[From chapter 165]

Unusual way of speaking/troubles to articulate/only answering: It becomes obvious really quickly that while Kyotaro can speak, he much prefers not to. Big emotions like anger and worry will push him to speak, but in normal/casual settings, he does seem to be somewhat struggling. He mostly only makes efforts to speak when he's addressing specific people (like his grandparents or Umemiya and his friends). And even in those casual settings with friends, he tends to pause at 'weird' moments, which makes me think he's struggling to control his tone too. (I would like to add that Kyotaro does seem to be trying to make more efforts for his classmates after his mini personal arc, but he's clearly still struggling). And my last point is that he nearly only ever 'start' a conversation when he is threatening someone (mad), but otherwise, he generally only answers to people, and a lot of times it's only out of politeness.

[From chapter 8] (Umemiya's reputation was insulted)

[From chapter 88] (Umemiya is the one thanking Kyotaro here, and for him, Kyotaro does answer, but as you can see, weird pause in the middle of his sentence)

[From chapter 146] (long sentences out of big emotions, rare)

[From chapter 163] (efforts to speak to his grandparents to be polite, but really short answers)

[From chapter 165] (effort to speak for Umemiya, but weird pauses)

[From chapter 167] (long sentences out of big emotions, rare)

[From chapter 169] (makes an effort to speak, in order to be polite, but is clearly struggling to articulate, his words are disjointed, and Kiryu and Suo are clearly surprised that he's making an effort to answer them, implying they were expecting for him to simply nod like usual)

Not talking much/non-verbal communication: In casual conversations, Kyotaro will only talk if it's really needed, otherwise he simply nods or he pretends to ignore people to avoid having to answer. During his conversation with Nirei, he does make quite a lot of noises out of frustration.

[From chapter 5] (doesn't answer when he is insulted)

[From chapter 6] (not talking even though everybody else is. those are just examples, there are MANY more)

[From chapter 4, and 9] (nodding at Umemiya on the left one, even though he isn't in the room, and nodding at a kid wishing them good luck for the Shishitoren fight on the right one)

[From chapter 164] (humming and nodding to communicate instead of talking)

[From chapter 166] (lots of noises)

General awkwardness/difficulties interacting in a fluid way with his peers and people in general: Idk what to say other than he's obviously really awkward, all of his peers point it out, even Umemiya the first time he meets him. He's always self-isolating, turning away from people (literally. he turns his body away from people he doesn't want to interact with) and his lack of talking and hobbies makes it hard to bond with him. His lack of socially acceptable facials expression/masking also makes him seem off-putting/scary/unsettling on top of his intimidating height and strength.

[From chapter 164] (still laughing at how casually Umemiya said it, and how he's not even wrong lmao. Ahh Umemiya, my emotionally aware and intelligent king ❤️)

Struggling to mask: I do think that one of the reason why Kyotaro doesn't speak much is to avoid having to mask his thoughts, considering he clearly seems to struggle to mask his body already (either he knows he's supposed to mask but struggles to anyway, or he doesn't really understand it at all, but either way he barely masks)

[From chapter bonus] (always glaring/frowning at people he probably shouldn't glare/frown at, aka, his classmates who haven't done anything wrong lmao)(also i'm not gonna add more screenshots to prove it, but we all know that Kyotaro is frowning like 80% of the time and it's only warranted 20% of those times)

Inability to fake smiling: This one goes with the one before, but I feel like it kinda is its own thing. Kyotaro barely smiles, even when he's happy/content. And even in moments when he would beneficiate from faking a smile, he doesn't.

[From chapter 165] (everybody is smiling, and Kyotaro does seem content, but he still doesn't smile, the only reason we can tell he's content is because his face is relaxed/his eyes are more open than usual)

Difficulties understanding/recognizing emotions/Alexithymia?: From what we learn with his discussion with Nirei, Kyotaro struggles to understand his own emotions, emotions in general, and others' a lot, to the point he needs to ask Nirei to understand his own emotions in the first place! And looking back at the whole manga, it would explain why he's so angry all the time, and why he struggles to really befriend or connect anyone. Which is also probably why he loves Umemyia so much, because Umemiya is extremely emotionally intelligent and aware, and he makes efforts to connect with Kyotaro. (also, Umemiya seems really patient and guiding with Kyotaro, like in the scene with the cups in chapter 88, which is definitely why Kyotaro gravitates toward him so much imo)

[From chapter 166] (i find it hilarious Kyotaro struggles to understand the concept itself of jealousy because that's also something that happened to me lol)

[From chapter 88]

Not finished!! I have more to point out!!

Here's PART 2

And before anyone says it, i am aware that the hours I've passed on these two posts is the most autistic thing ever but in my defense I had a lot of fun! xD

[pearsandrust]

in honour of me deciding to appease my 2021 self by going to a genshin event this week, here's how i'd rewrite sumeru if i were given the chance. note that this is solely based off of the in-game themes and lore that i still remember, and i quit pretty early on. so. warning for canonical inaccuracy.

also, this is a traveller-less rewrite. i love aether/lumine, but i think their reputation as the "hero" often ends up taking away other characters' autonomy. the MC being capable of practically everything means that we don't get as many moments where other characters realize they have to step up. anyway, that's enough yapping. thoughts under the cut <3

PLOT

the general flow of the plot would be kept the same, but here's a list of points i want to include:

the sages don't imprison nahida by any physical means. instead, they take advantage of the fact that she's the first/central akasha terminal. the sheer volume of requests the sages send to the akasha causes her to be a) constantly overstimulated, therefore locking herself in the sanctuary of surasthana, and b) unable to use her mind for herself, which takes away her biggest source of power

another reason nahida is unable to communicate with the people is because the akasha is actively diminishing the population's cognitive capacities

the first person to realize that critical thinking is declining among the citizens of sumeru is, of course, alhaitham. he notices that a lot of people have stopped using figures of speech. instead, everyone seems to speak the same way, which he finds unsettling.

at the same time, the sages have enlisted kaveh to redesign the akademiya's buildings for "efficiency". that's right. they're making kaveh do minimalism. the horror ! the intrigue ! what did they do to get him to agree (i will cover this later when i talk about his character)

(this one is a WIP) as the manifestation of the withering in people, i'd want eleazar to have more notable psychological effects. distortion of memories/dreams would be my first instinct. since the withering is also linked to the remains of greater lord rukkhadevata, i think collei would be the first person to see irminsul and hear the words "world, forget me" (instead of the traveller).

i'd keep the samsara arc, but instead of having nilou host the dream, the host changes during every "reboot". the beep everyone hears at the end of the day isn't just the dream restarting, but also a confirmation that a new host has been found. of course, every person's dream would still have features unique to them. because i love kaveh, i'd like to write a dream hosted by him at some point -- with his dream's defining factor being that his parents are still in sumeru city.

the sages are still trying to make scaramouche a god btw.

i want the tale of king deshret's civilization and the introduction of forbidden knowledge to be basically lost history. it would be so interesting to have the characters wonder if the desert's mysterious machines hide the secret to defeating scara, only to eventually find out that the sages are just repeating deshret's sins. it would also be interesting to see people wish for deshret to return without knowing exactly why he fell in the first place

speaking of the desert, i'd like the conflict between the akademiya and the desert people to focus at least a little on the destruction of history in the pursuit of "progress". the sages are willing to overwrite the past whenever it's convenient for them, so there's no way they can be entrusted with the knowledge/culture of the desert. but then again, i'm actually not too sure why hoyo wrote the desert/forest conflict the way they did in the sumeru main story, so i could be missing something crucial here. let me know!

tying nahida's imprisonment to the akasha system does also mean that the cast needs to find a way to dismantle it before freeing her, which is something i haven't quite figured out yet (sigh). i was thinking of doing something along the lines of how alhaitham broke the hivemind in his story quest.

you know that theory that's like "nilou is the reincarnation of the goddess of flowers and [other character] is the reincarnation of deshret"? while i don't fully agree with it, i'd like to introduce some mechanism by which the main cast can draw power from the memories of those gods (perhaps using nahida as a conduit). memory is such a prominent motif in sumeru, and it would make such a perfect antithesis to how collei's eleazar was once suppressed using a dead god's remains, resulting in her having uncontrollable powers. useful powers through honouring the past vs terrible power through exploiting it. do you see the vision

CHARACTERS

okay, now for points relating to individual characters!

nahida

i don't have much to change about her personality, but here are a few points i'd like to add to her:

metaphors metaphors metaphors! i know she already speaks pretty metaphorically, but i don't want to just play it off for humour ("haha nahida why are you talking like that"). i want her to get weird and creative with them!! use symbols that people wouldn't expect !!

a core problem with nahida attempting to take control of sumeru again is that if the akasha has made everyone unable to learn for themselves, she can't really spread knowledge to the people. i think this could make for an incredibly interesting character arc. nahida initially tries to make herself seem more like an archon of wisdom and plays into the akademiya's stereotypes of wisdom/intelligence, using very specific language and explaining things literally to people (as the sages/traditional academics might do). in the end, she realizes that her personal style of teaching -- using fairy tales and stories as metaphors -- is far more effective

note: while the official lore doesn't confirm that rukkhadevata is the "ruler of yesterday and tomorrow morning" mentioned in one of the sumeru books, it's such a powerful idea that i'd like to make it the basis of her identity in this rewrite. it encapsulates the importance of memory -- how the past informs the future. this both connects back to irminsul and explains nahida's biggest weakness. she does not have nearly as much lived experience, and thus, she has less memories to draw power from.

kaveh

kaveh's my favourite genshin character, which is why this whole thing is a little biased towards him. but honestly, it's hoyo's fault for stating he's canonically the closest to nahida's ideal of wisdom and then not putting him in the story.

of all the sumeru characters, i feel like he'd be the most opposed to the akademiya defunding the arts and focusing solely on progress. in such an environment, i imagine that he'd feel like he never has enough time to process everything, which also plays into the concept of "debt". he feels like he owes the universe everything he has failed to preserve.

i'd like kaveh's mother to send him the occasional letter. in each one, she seems to get a little further from who she used to be, giving him the feeling that the past is slipping away. i want him to wish that he could stop or rewind time, and for this wish to eventually bring him to the orchard of pairidaeza (the time-stop place underneath the desert). i'm not entirely sure why -- i just think it would fit.

in a similar vein: the reason he agrees to help the akademiya redesign their buildings in a minimalist style is not because they offer him money, but because they threaten to destroy all the notebooks and papers his mother contributed to their library. you know, the last evidence that she was ever an architect.

alhaitham

hoo boy. alhaitham. while i love his current character, the sumeru story didn't really challenge him in any meaningful way. he kind of just. handled it all. and that's ... kind of disappointing? i'm not saying we should overstimulate him for sport or anything, but i'd try something like this:

have alhaitham be a parallel to scaramouche. NOW BEFORE YOU GUYS YELL AT ME. HEAR ME OUT

both alhaitham and scaramouche are heavily influenced by their respective pasts, but neither of them really acknowledge it. in scaramouche's case, he's actively trying to repress his memories. alhaitham is a bit different -- we know his grandmother had a big influence on him, but i cannot remember a single time that he has brought her up. i don't think he's actively trying to forget her, but i presume he usually just focuses on other things. at the beginning of the story, i'd characterize alhaitham as someone who usually neglects past issues in favour of current/future ones. he would think this is an efficient, more peaceful way to live. as the story progresses, he gradually realizes that neglecting the past is not a strength, but rather something that makes you more susceptible to repeating your previous mistakes.

he doesn't need to become excessively sappy or nostalgic to accomplish this. it would mostly happen through small, fleeting moments. for example, the sages get rid of some of the books in the house of daena because they're "old and redundant", and alhaitham realizes this makes him uncomfortable.

meanwhile, scaramouche becomes wrongly convinced that you can only be successful if you rid yourself of your past. even though both of them start with similar ideologies, they end up as vastly different characters. which would be !! so interesting !!

collei

COLLEI NATION !!! ILOVEHERILOVEHERILOVEHER.

collei is a perfect example of the importance of memory, if only because of how deeply she values amber. and the fact that she had to learn how to read after arriving in sumeru makes her a perfect addition to the story's exploration of language. also, the fact that her favourite stories are fairy tale picture books? which exactly aligns with how nahida prefers to tell stories? collei is the true main character of sumeru and none of you can tell me otherwise. i am dying on this hill

HEAR ME OUT. since there's no traveller, i want collei to be the one who defeats scaramouche in the end. there are a lot of more powerful characters, but her lore perfectly aligns with scara's. as an example, collei's doll (cuilein-anbar, named after amber) is a great parallel to the doll scaramouche's friend once made for him.

we can tell from collei's ascension voiceline (even if it's a life-or-death situation, i'll never need to rely on their power again) that she wants to develop her own set of skills; that way, she'll never need to call on the power that was sealed within her. this makes her a great character for the scaramouche fight. when the traveller does it, they use the knowledge of everyone in sumeru. similarly, we could see collei willingly learn different skills from different characters throughout the story. that way, it feels natural for her to tap into all of that knowledge during the climax -- just like aether/lumine does. do you see it. do you see the vision

candace

collectively we are sleeping on candace. this includes whoever wrote her character stories. they were also sleeping on candace.

like alhaitham, i'd also like candace to have a bit more of an internal struggle. her character stories don't offer us much ("candace was not depressed" -- ah. okay,,,?), but we do get the hint that she always has to have her guard up. she has to remain calm at all times. she can't really wear the cute trinkets she buys. i feel like there could be a really interesting conflict between her determination to protect everyone and her innate desire to be someone else.

there is a lot that candace can teach the other characters about language, which is a Core Sumeru Motif! the way she speaks in the story is actually really unique, given that people come to her for Divine Guidance TM. this could add to the ongoing idea that objective/academic language is not necessarily the best way to communicate with people.

dehya

not too much to say here -- her character works well as is!

i would lean a little more into the fact that she keeps returning to the desert, no matter what. this could directly conflict with her desire to obtain a position where she can help her loved ones live better lives. she wants them to break free of the restrictive mindset they've developed due to the harsh conditions of the desert. if she remains a mercenary, she may never have that sort of influence, but can she really tolerate working somewhere like the akademiya? this is especially interesting considering alhaitham asks her to join the akademiya himself at some point (IIRC).

i think she could have a really interesting friendship with nilou, though. they are vastly different people and yet they both have an appreciation for beauty. they both also want to live a carefree life. i think it would be so fun to see them bond, and we could have some cool scenes where they teach each other how to fight/dance :)

nilou

speaking of nilou,

i think it would be interesting to dive deeper into why the akademiya is defunding the arts. it could be because of their subjectivity, or because they don't really "advance the current state of knowledge" in sumeru. in any case, it would be fun to have the conflict stem from the sages' desire to intellectualize everything. it would definitely clash with nilou's carefree personality.

out of everyone, nilou would be most affected by the negative side effects of the akasha. it diminishes her creativity, leading her to feel burnt out. i would love to have an arc where nilou feels uninspired, but later realizes it's because her access to instantaneous knowledge has made her stop observing the world around her.

it would be really cool if nilou could see the aranara. for no particular reason tbh. i just think it fits her

unfinished characters: tighnari & cyno & faruzan & layla & sethos

i haven't read the lore for these characters, but if this idea ever comes to fruition, rest assured that they will be added :)

dori

no dori. i am so sorry dori fans but i genuinely do not know what to do with her. please enlighten me

scara

just one thing:

the dendro archon is the avatar of irminsul, which contains all the world's memories. this, in itself, is a form of "eternity". i imagine that's part of why he agreed to try and overtake nahida in the first place. it was another shot at holding onto "eternity".

aaaand that's it! that was such a long post. i'm never posting about genshin again (i say that every time i post about genshin). if anyone read the entire thing i love you.

[tawan-rawee]