#Sorrow Complications

[betterlifeinoverall-rethabilep]

Favorite Song Connected To Untold Story

To break the ice, we all love music. Hence, different flavours of Music. Likewise, to the different dishes we would choose in Restaurant on the Menu. Nevertheless, in all the songs we love despite how varied they are, we receive beats which makes us jolly and jubilantly happy. Actually, they ensures we are happy and create memories which gets labeled with the sound of the same songs. Exclusively,…

[catdoingblep]

[findafight]

Eddie's never met a Jedi. Of course he hasn't. But he's seen a Jedi, way back during the clone wars, when a battalion had helped after seppies had targeted civilian supply lines.

Eddie's pretty sure they were Kel Dor, what with the breathing apparatus. They'd worn tan and woody robes, long and elegant and flowing as they'd weaved between people, helping them stand or tending to wounds.

What had stood out to Eddie, watching this being that was supposedly a fierce warrior of light, was that they...were normal. They laughed and shrugged and cooed at babies, just like anyone else.

That was until the Jedi had raised their hands and lifted a two-tonne shipping crate into the air without so much as touching it. It frightened Eddie, then. Barely twenty and in the middle of a war his planet didn't want a part of. Beings that could lift and toss objects too heavy to move without machinery like they were playthings are not to be unwary of.

Of course. Eddie had spent a lot of the redistribution of rations effort around clones. They'd seemed...fine? While he is no stranger to speaking his mind he had thought well enough ahead that he probably shouldnt ask if they'd wanted to be there. Figured that might get him kicked off the project and he needed the money.

He listened instead. How they called each other things like Spoon and Duck and Trinity and Loopback as though they were names. Maybe they were. Eddie didn't know and didn't want to ask at the time.

But the Clones had been friendly, if formal. They spoke of their general with fondness and respect and a tinge of awe that felt appropriate to seeing what a Jedi was capable of frequently.

Eddie had liked them.

And then Empire Day came, and the Jedi were declared traitors and the galaxy as he knew it fell apart.

It never made much sense, from what Eddie had seen, for the Clones to kill the Jedi. But nobody asked Eddie, so Eddie didn't say. He did get sucked into the Rebellion though, and heard rumours about mind control and sith and a dozen other things.

So no. Eddie had never met a Jedi. But he'd seen one.

Chrissy had spoken about the rumoured Jedi (or-- not-jedi? She said they often refused the title) that stayed in the small Rebel enclave they've been helping. There were two, apparently. She'd met them, even, during a debrief where she'd been discussing how to better use their resources to help her contacts on the Freedom Trail. They'd barrelled in and spoken in such a way that Chrissy would have swore they were of the same mind, had they not been on opposite ends of the room.

"they were polite." Chrissy said, headtail twitching. "For people who interrupted an important meeting." Eddie'd laughed. "One, the Balosar man, he was very insistent that we delay our plans. The other, I think she was human? It's hard to tell, said the force was calling to them and very insistent about it during meditation."

"seriously? And the generals did it?"

"oh no. They argued for another twenty minutes before the not-Jedi threw up their arms and said, in unison Eddie!, 'The shipment will be lost if you go ahead with it. Better late than never, pricks.' and walked out."

So. On an abstract level, Eddie knew that whenever he entered the hangar bay to run maintenance or completely rebuild a ship, there was a chance for him to meet a former? Jedi.

He'd gotten well acquainted with a group of teenagers there, ones who were friends with the younger brother of the heir apparent to the region they were in and liked the make-believe games he ran in his off hours. But he never really thought about the Jedi that supposedly haunted the base until a woman shouted for Dustin, a rodian who was part of his little sheepies and had literal stars in his eyes when Eddie spoke, to come over. Dustin, the betrayer, jumped up and dashed off without even a word of goodbye.

"okay, so the head mechanic needs this-" she gestures to a small smuggling freighter that had seen far better days "hunk of junk out of the way so they can start work on a couple of x-wings. Steve and I figured we could help her out and get you to work on control of larger objects."

Eddie meandered casually over. Just to watch. Just to...see.

Dustin bounced on his feet. "Really? Woah! Where are we putting it?"

She pointed up, to the open vertical entry doors that created the roof of the hanger. "Steve's up there, he'll make sure if your control slips we don't crush the ship or anyone on the floor once you get it high, and he'll get it out and place it where it's supposed to go. I'll be here with you so you don't hurt yourself."

"I'm not gonna hurt myself."

She patted his head "yeah. Cuz I'm right here making sure."

"uhg. Almost wish I never learned you guys used to be Jedi."

"and who would train you then? No one. You and El would be sad little tooka kits all on your lonesome." She raised her voice to yell at the roof, "you ready Stevie?" and it should not have been loud enough to carry, the tone of an after thought, as though she already knew the answer and the question was just for the spectators, but the figure silhouetted waved.

Then, Dustin took a steadying breath, raised his arms, and closed his eyes. Slowly, the ship in front of him groaned and rose up. A crowd had formed, watching a magic thought extinct.

The woman's eyes darted between Dustin and the freighter, one hand loosely outstretched. It occurred to Eddie that neither wore the tunics and robes of Jedi. Dustin ran around in the mismatched pants and shirts of the Rebels' donations, while the woman wore deep greens. There were no dramatic sleeves that swished when they moved, just slightly loose fabric fastened by a belt and holster. He wonders if she ever wore them.

Dustin struggled for a moment, the ship quivering ten feet up, and the woman tensed slightly before he loosened. Eyes open, she deftly moved her arms up with the ship following, an ease in her movements that Dustin lacked. When she dropped her arms as well, the freighter stayed moving upwards, the other not-Jedi, Steve, likely taking over.

"good work for your first go." She said, draping an arm casually over Dustin's shoulders.

"I barely got it off the ground! Don't patronize me, Robin."

Eddie stepped in "considering I wouldn't even be able to move it sideways an inch, I'd say you did pretty well, Dustin."

The kid spun, just as the light comes shining back through as Steve maneuvered the ship out of the hangar. "Eddie! You saw?"

He scoffed "uh. Yes? Why didn't you tell me this is what you did when Im not around"

The woman-Robin, Eddie supposed, tensed. "It's not particularly safe to boast about it. Especially when it's not clear if you're alone."

Ah. Yeah. That did make sense. "Then why practice in a hangar with two dozen people around?"

She shrugged, and looked up. Eddie followed her sightlines and "wait is he gonna-" just as the figure that must be Steve launched himself off the edge of the open roof and towards them. He landed, he's leather jacket flapping behind him, and stood straight, grinning.

Robin laughed. "You'll give someone a heart attack one of these days, Steve."

"eh. No one's died so far."

Dustin smiled too "I'm getting pretty good at my controlled falls too! Oh, Steve, this is Eddie!"

And then Steve turned his gaze on Eddie, and his brain may have melted.

Steve looked like a spacer, windswept from the fall and leather jacket snug around his shoulders, two different holsters visible, his pants deliciously tight. He ran a hand through his hair, his antennapalps bobbing, and stuck it out for a shake.

"so, you're the great Eddie Munson Dustin hasn't shut up about? Good to meet you."

"mmhmm!" He forced his hand out to jerkily shake Steve's. Jeez. It was as though he'd never seen anyone beautiful before. His best friend was a Twilek dancer (and spy) for star's sake. He needed to get it together. Jedi didn't date, Eddie was pretty sure. Something about the force or power or devotion or something. He wasn't sure. He wasn't a Jedi. He wasn't a not-Jedi either.

Steve only smiled and turned back to Dustin. "So. Next time you need to let the Force flow. You're still trying to shove it, which never works. You direct it, like changing the course of a river."

"but not," Robin added seamlessly, and oh, wow, that was weird than you Chrissy "like a dam. Trying to block it won't give you strength. You're more..."

"using a log to ensure the water finds a different path."

"to go where you want it to go, do what you want it to do, without preventing it's natural flow."

"you guys are so annoying." Dustin huffed. "You know that? You can claim it's your Concordance of Fealty all you want but I know your freaky thing is not normal for it." He groaned. "But sometimes I feel when you guys, like, shape it. Change it. What the kark is that about? If I'm not supposed to dam it, how do I change it and use it like you do?"

Both grinned "We're older. Master the basics, we must, before attempting the advanced, young one." The voice Steve used was croaky, an impression.

Dustin pulled a face. "Don't quote Grandmaster Yoda at me!"

Robin and Steve laughed, leaning on each other. Suddenly, Eddie felt as though he was intruding. Though they hadn't told him to leave, they were sharing about...about a relative, Eddie guessed. Someone near to them and their almost-dead culture.

"I can quote him all I want, I drank enough of his atrocious tea to deserve it!"

"he's dead. You're going to sit here and insult your dead great-grandmaster, the last Grandmaster of the Order?"

Steve got Dustin in a headlock "while we mourn their loss, and acknowledge the pain of their untimely and unjust passing, we celebrate their memory. Yoda, the old frog, is one with the Force, and while I can wish for his guidance, I can also make fun of his vile cookies I had to eat at lineage dinners all I want."

"pretty sure they were barely considered edible for near-humans" Robin adds. She caught Eddie's eye, and winked. "Who's up for actually edible tea? Dustin can practice his fine control and pour for us.

Both Dustin and Steve groaned. "The kid is gonna spill all over us for fun, Bobbin."

Concept post Dustin discovers they're jedi

[theygender]

I've got too many games I want to play and not enough free time 😭 I still need to finish my BG3 playthrough but since Endless Ocean: Luminous came out I've been playing a lot of that instead. Also just got back into Wizard101 last night. Started playing House Flipper again last weekend. Still need to finish BOTW so I can start a TOTK playthrough and finish Pokemon Shield so I can start on Pokemon Violet. I've been fighting off the urge to start up a new Skyrim playthrough for weeks. My brother just told me that Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door is getting ported to the Switch. And now I'm suddenly feeling inspired to replay DAI... And throughout all of this I'm also playing the hell out of DragonVale on my phone. Someone just pay me to play video games all day please

[crypticminx]

Hate to b that bitch, but I must stop talking to new people bc why must I constantly yearn for something that was never there???? Huhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[demonbarberofbeepbeep]

hurt/comfort lucy barker save me

[dreamedfyre-a]

thinking about aemond killing luke on purpose and alicent and otto being livid and aegon throwing him a feast and siding with his brother publicly even though it is effectively ending the tense cold war sort of stage to outright open military conflict

and thinking about how helaena fits in this. she's not ignorant of what this means, and she definitely doesn't see it as something to be celebrated. maybe death couldn't be avoided, but celebrating it with a feast is distasteful in her opinion, and it'd certainly be seen as offensive, as well as deliberate provocation. if aemond's actions started it, aegon's ensure there's no way back.

at the same time i think she understands both why aemond would do it and why aegon would make a grand gesture to support him, and she wouldn't fault either. her loyalty to her family is unbreakable (one of her greatest flaws; she's more than willing to overlook any wrongdoing by their hands), and when her family is split on their stance, she leans towards her brothers more so than her mother. and if otto is on one side more often than not she'd rather be on the opposite side ngl

all of this to say that whether aemond regrets it or not doesn't make a difference, because she'll stand with him even if there's blood on his hands. and that even if aegon's celebration is distasteful, it is a display of loyalty too, and uncomfortable as she personally may be, none of it would be voiced or manifested, and she would stand with him too.

the idea they can only rely on each other might be a little too ingrained in all of them (especially after the night aemond lost his eye), and i think it certainly plays a part to some extent. there is no one else. they stand for each other no matter what or no one will. but i think there's a willing joining of hands too. she accepts and wants them as they are, even when that means flawed and violent and uncaring.

she may not raise her voice to condone what they do, but she won't shun them either - and any grievances that need be spoken (because i don't mean she isn't critical; only that ultimately she stands with them even when she disagrees) would be discussed in private. helaena might be snappy or passive-aggressive at times, but when it comes to serious matters like this, there would only be unity in the public eye. i'm sure aegon heard criticism for his feast, but she nevertheless attended and did her best to present herself as she ought to.

[doomspaniels]

"aw sis, not on CAMERA"

Tristan really wanted to go see the Big Doggies today (he didn't Friday, and wanted to go but was content to be left in his crate Sat) but he can't wear the cone out there. The horses adore their very, very little siblings but would still find being thwacked with a cone quite upsetting and confusing. So today I determined that he will probably be more interested in Sniff Patrol than in rubbing his eye... at least for long enough to Help Feed the Big Doggies.

I don't know if Tristan or Gwyn was the happier Spaniel.

He's back in the Cone of Sorrows now, but maybe tomorrow we'll be done with it? We'll see!

[infinitethree]

Daz is still in the hidden room, working on the code with Innit– which is surreally nostalgic– when Aster suddenly shouts at him.

“You planned to kill me just because I didn’t buy your act?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He squints up at the traitor, needing a few moments to recalibrate to sudden conversation.

“Oh,” he says, blinking. “You were a threat. You still are, technically.”

Aster glares at him, and Daz rolls his eyes. “Save your bullshit. The more you talk, the less able I am to work on the damn code.”

Naturally, Aster is suspicious of that. “Code for what, some new sociopathic plan of yours?” Daz shoots back, “Innit and I are working on making its body, actually. Y’know, the thing you pushed for so bad?”

Suddenly, the bastard is in his personal space. He’s got one palm against his shoulder like he’s keeping him pinned back and growls, “You did something, didn’t you?”

It’s surprising to see him get so handsy. “Don’t fucking touch me–” “What did you do, asshole? We both know that you wouldn’t suddenly decide to be a decent fucking person without a reason. So– what. Did. You. Do.”

Daz’s sight is hijacked to see the past again.

Aster suddenly stops dead in his tracks in the middle of doing work in his office. He’s fumbling with his com, scrolling through the player list as fast as he can with trembling hands. His face has gone ashen and his thoughts are–

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck c’mon, c’mon you bastard, tell me you haven’t done it yet!

A shaky laugh escapes from Aster, but he only takes a moment to revel in the overwhelming sense of relief he feels. Not dead yet. Thank fuck…I might actually become religious from this.

Aster takes a sharp inhale and then quickly flicks through his com to find a specific menu, one Daz knows too well. It’s the one for activating remote stasis chambers, and thus the only way most of them can access the Council HQ.

I might kill you myself for this, though. Fuck, Daz– why do you have to be so broken…?

…Was that how Aster reacted when he saw that Daz was about to get himself killed for good?

A twinge of guilt threatens to tug at him, but he bats it away easily.

None of that would have happened if Aster stayed in his own fucking lane, after all.

He’s yanked to the future, which he knows is the future because Future-Aster is looking at Future-Daz, and he looks older.

Plus there’s the whole– sappy emotions, and the earcuff in Future-Daz’s ear.

The eventual version of himself is asleep on a couch that Daz hasn’t seen before. The room is unfamiliar, too– is this where they live?

Actually, from what he can see of a window, he sees some of those trees Aster loves so damn much. He must have remodeled the traitor’s house, then.

The weirdest part is that there’s a kid conked out on Future-Daz’s chest. She looks pretty young, maybe only four or so. Her hair is done up in pigtails and ribbons.

The ribbons are what gives it away, though. Daz knows his own handiwork, and he knows he’d be gun shy about giving anything like that to anyone, but especially to a kid.

Any kid but his own, that is.

…Shit, they have a kid? That’s so fucking weird!

Future-Aster thinks to himself, She looks just like him. I guess I’m just used to kids who are adopted; it still catches me by surprise. That’s genetics for you.

Daz is suddenly thrown back to the present again, reeling at the baffling and surreal implication that they– what, get a surrogate?

Uhhhg. Gross, on multiple levels. In no way shape or form does he want to– have any of that, and especially not with Aster!

Said bastard grips his shoulder and repeats, “I asked you a question–”

It’s not worth hiding it. He can’t effectively torment him without spilling the beans, anyway. “Made a deal with the Showrunner. I work on Innit’s body, meaning Innit can work on its body, and in exchange I see the same shit you do.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then Aster scoffs and steps away. “You’re such a petty bastard.”

Even though it might prove his point, he retorts, “That’s not what you say at our wedding, you know.”

“Are you seriously going to–” Voice flipping to a mimickry of how Aster sounds, he recites, “ ‘I won’t say ‘til death do us part’. Death is too soon to let you go, so…instead? Instead, I’ll follow you through a hundred thousand lifetimes. Death, rebirth, oblivion– I don’t care. As long as you’re there, and as long as you want me…? I’ll follow you,’ ” Daz smugly tells him.

Aster glares at him with a surprising amount of venom, and then answers, “ ‘You stole my heart, but I can’t even be mad. Nothing in my life has been as good as you. Your devotion is the balm against the long, miserable, lonely years before I was with you. I can take on gods with you at my side, but without you I’m less than nothing. What I want more than anything is the die of old age in our sleep at the same as you. I love you to the point of madness; to the point of ruin.’ “

Goddamnit.

The bastard folds his arms over his chest. “You want to go low? I’ll match you. I’m not quietly putting up with your shit any more, Daz.”

He scoffs. “This’ll be fun to talk about eventually.” “Oh, I’m sure we’ll laugh and laugh over what an insufferable sociopath you used to be.” “No, I mean–”

Wait a minute.

He pauses. “...Have you seen anything big aside from the wedding and the– whatever the fuck you saw that had the suits?” “Christmas celebration, and no. Why, what did you–”

The wary question is cut off by Aster’s eyes suddenly going wide.

“Oh fuck no,” the bastard breathes. “A kid?!”

Uhhhhg, of course the Showrunner would decide to show him the damn kid.

He rolls his eyes. “Great, there goes that plan–” “To not tell me we have a goddamned child?!” “Well, evidently you adore her.” “I had fucking better, given she’s named after me!”

“Bullshit. She’s– uhg, apparently we do some shit with a surrogate–” “Then look up what ‘Azira’ means. Go on, I dare you.” Aster tells him.

He’d sound threatening if Daz wasn’t immune to him by now.

With a scoff, he pulls open one of the databases they use.

…Fuck. It means ‘a rising star’.

As he glowers at his com, Aster tells him, “I remember because it's a name related to stars. You know– my whole thing?”

“Clearly, I take pity on you and throw you a bone because I'm the biological dad.”

Aster stares at him, an odd expression on his face. “I– the rest of how fucked it is aside? That tracks. If I did love you and did decide to start a family with you, I'd rather– uhg, our kids, as gross as that feels to say– I would rather they have a shot at your freakish intelligence.”

…Huh. That's weirdly mature of him to admit.

“Granted, they'd also be at risk for inheriting your sociopathy, so maybe not. Tell me– was that genetic, or learned from your monster of a brother?”

Aaaaand there’s the loss of any goodwill that gained.

Sneering, he shoots back, “I know that about as well as you know if your stupidity is genetic.”

Aster’s gaze narrows, and he grabs a fistful of Daz’s shirt. “Careful, you don't want to piss me off.”

“Or what?”

A slow, ominous smile curls up on the bastard's lips.

“You made it so that nobody else can be an effective sparring partner for you. That means you're going to get your ass handed to you if you keep fucking around.”

He laughs in his face. “That’s your big threat?! Oh, honey…that's pathetic. You can't fully beat me up, you'll look like an asshole.”

Aster’s smile only grows. “You underestimate me, Daz. You always have.”

Is that really what he thinks?

Daz might have manipulated him, sure– but he always saw Aster as someone with potential.

That's why he extended a hand for the Council. It's why he pushed and bullied and forced Aster to grow.

Left to his own devices, he would be a fraction of the person Daz helped shape him into.

Aster, for years, held the most vital role in his plans. Daz never would have let someone he deemed unworthy control the Swords and Shields, nor hinge his last resort on them.

As little as he likes the traitor…Aster is competent, determined, and surprisingly humble.

He scoffs, “You understand me even less than before.”

With that, he forcibly removes Aster’s hand and gets up.

…Only to get hit with a dizzy spell and start going down immediately.

Aster catches him, probably without even meaning to. “Daz?”

Huh, he actually sounds worried.

Blinking dark spots from his eyes, he shoves his wrist upwards to look at his console. It takes a few tries to get it right, which he’s aware is a problem.

He struggles to focus enough to see the time, but Innit notes with surprise, it’s been sixteen hours since you ate. Were we really here for that long…?

Ohhhhh. Yeah, that’d do it.

He mumbles, distantly aware that the words aren’t coming out right, “Big pr’ject. N’t used to it. Forgot t’eat.”

He’s set down on the couch with a surprising amount of gentleness, considering they were fighting just a moment ago.

“I’ll be right back,” Aster tells him, going back through the passage he came from.

Right, sure.

Daz closes his eyes to fight the way his body is suddenly screaming at him to take care of it. He’s exhausted, starving, and sore from both the repetitive motions and not moving around much.

There’s the sound of a throat being cleared, and when he opens his eyes, two sandwiches are being held out to him.

…Huh. He didn’t actually think Aster would come back.

He grabs them and damn near inhales the food, ditto for the water he’s given.

Finally feeling a bit better now that he’s sitting and with something in his stomach, he asks Aster, “...Why?”

A long, tired sigh comes from the other Tommy, who sinks down next to him on the couch. “...I think you’re a petty, selfish bastard. But I don’t you to suffer,” Aster tells him, brow furrowed a little.

Weird.

“I still hate you for seeing in my head.” “Aren’t we even for that? I’ve explained my reasons. I reluctantly agreed once the wish was brought up; you did this all on your own our of petty spite.”

That gives him pause. “...You never mentioned it was reluctant.”

Aster stares at him in bafflement. “I was ready to refuse, but it’s a literal fucking reality warping wish– one I can hand over to anyone I want. There’s– shit, Daz, I might not have known but it was being offered by the god of time and reality. And fuck knows what else they reside over!”

He hates that he has a good point.

“I thought you jumped on the chance to pry my head open.” “I hated the idea, actually. I know you’ve secretive and I didn’t want to invade your privacy. But I assumed, stupidly, that I’d just– be told things. Like how Observers ask questions. In what fucking way was I supposed to know that I’d see things, and be in your head? I knew you’d be mad, but I, again stupidly, figured that you could recognize that the wish was worth the mortifying ordeal of being known.”

Daz knows he’s sulking as he mutters, “You could have asked me.” “Really didn’t feel like that was an option. Would you want to tell the Showrunner ‘please wait while I call up the guy you hate for permission’?”

Goddamnit.

See?! I told you he’s a good person!

“Shut up,” Daz mutters, scrubbing at his face. “I don’t need you yammering in my ear, too.”

Stop being a dick ‘cause I was proven right yet again. You always ignore me and it always fucks you over.

Aster asks, “Innit talking?” “Mhm. I’m not acting your gofer, you’ll have plenty of time to talk soon enough.”

There’s a little bit of blessed silence, and Daz feels his eyes getting heavy.

Fuck, he doesn’t want to fall asleep like this. But he’s tired, and…

And, as little as he wants to admit it, it’s nice to have someone next to him.

A small, stupid, childish part of him wants to ask Aster to stay right here so he might not be tormented by nightmares.

But also, he’d rather die than voice that tiny desire.

There’s a little disappointment as the other him starts moving, but it was inevitable.

Then he’s scooped up.

He sputters, “Wh– what the fuck?!” “Unfortunately for you, I know what you want. Even worse, I’m not enough of an asshole to refuse,” Aster tells him, just before tossing him onto the bed.

His heart hammers. “If you try anything weird–” Giving him a withering look, Aster snaps, “The fuck do you take me for? No, asshole, I’m dealing with your nightmares, insomnia, and touch starvation in one fell swoop.” The bastard undoes his shoes and flops down.

Oh hell no.

He tries to get up, but Aster yanks him back down. “I don’t trust you to get home on your own, and you’ll sleep like shit anyway. If you’re doing something nice– even if it’s for extremely fucked up reasons– I’m rewarding that by letting you actually fucking sleep for once in– what, four years or so?”

…It sucks that he can’t muster up the energy to fight this more seriously.

But, gods, real sleep sounds amazing. And his body is screaming for it, practically forcing it on him already.

So, reluctantly, he lets Aster wrap his arms around him and start messing with his hair.

“You can go back to being an insufferable asshole tomorrow. For now, just take this with a little grace.”

Daz can’t reply, because he’s already out like a light.

[a-skirmish-of-wit]

Going from the astronomical highs of watching the boys win on penalties in the champions league on Wednesday to enduring the devastating lows of the gals getting thrashed by Chelsea 2 days later

I don’t know if I’m having a good time or not but I got emotionally invested so long ago that there’s no going back so here we are I guess 😃👍

[mirchloe]

being a hater for a moment, but i think continued punishment or enduring the weight of your "sin/mistakes" for the rest of your life is one of the worst ways to end a story like in meguri forcing satoko to simply live with what she's done instead of the narrative actually engaging with the reasons why or providing substance to her actions that was clearly there in sotsu.

for pn, i'm glad there wasn't a continued punishment, a constant need for lucy or ford to endure the weight of their past. punishment is not the answer for past crimes or cruelty, especially with the poignancy of an ending that is tinged with melancholy, but it's far more hopeful and healing. lucy still killed her sister and wiped out thousands. ford still swept lucy under the rug, and replaced both her and augustus' memories, and he punished himself by cracking his own brain. years passed, and the pain was still present, festeruing underneath, especially in regards to the subsequent passing of the anti-psychic torch between lucy, augustus, and his children, with dion and frazie especially passing it on to raz, who finally had enough and ran away because of the pain foisted upon him because of a lack of acceptance. they've suffered enough. there didn't need to be a "lucy needs to pay for her crimes" or "ford needs to repent for the rest of his life." with augustus and his children, there is bittersweet beauty in how he still needs to come with terms about his past being a cultivated lie, how he was raised by the killer of his mother whom he still loves and wants to protect, how he spread those sentiments to his children based entirely on falsehoods, how his oldest children are still processing a life that was fueled by anti-psychic rhetoric, propaganda, and fear. and for raz, he has his entire life ahead of him.

there's kindness in being able to simply move on, to live in the future with what they have now. there doesn't need to be any further punitive pains, "calling out" behavior, or demands to live with regrets for the rest of their lives. for lucy and ford, who suffered and inflicted pain equally, being able to return to where they were is probably the happiest ending bequeathed to them, with what time they have left. as for augustus and his children, they still have time to process what they've endured, no matter how many years pass before raz decides to confront what happened, and for that, i think the ending to pn2 carries an unspoken sincerity.

[sailoreuterpe]

I miss so many people and it hurts so much.

[sunflowerseraph]

Having such complicated emotions about jesus rn

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Man, I thought I was over Yakuza, time to let go, but...

*sees old, scraggly Majima*

*Kiryu has cancer now*

*eye twitch*

...yeah, okay, maybe I've got some more in me

[strixhaven]

i don’t hyperfixate on things unless it’s finals. then like clockwork i am completely transfixed by Something and that is all i think about and completely devour for a solid three weeks to the detriment of literally everything else. i can’t stop this and lowkey it kinda sucks but also it’s very very funny to see how predictable it is

[godblooded]

big write up on how my rhaegar is my own interpretation (and how behind i am on westerosi literature) coming soon to a dash near you.