#some research has been done

[oh-hell-help-me]

July 29: National Lipstick Day

Luigi hadn’t dabbled much in makeup, but Wendy was adamant that he finds his ‘colors’.

Starting from his foray into dresses, his only experience with lipstick is the clear gloss he puts on with his more put-together outfits.

Upon learning this, however, Wendy put her foot down:

“You mean to tell me you don’t have any lipstick?!”

“Um-“ Luigi remembers tugging at his gloves nervously, unsure where exactly it became an interrogation. “I, never really brought any? And… it didn’t seem like a big deal…”

Junior, who was doodling nearby, joined Wendy on staring at him in shock. “But Mama! You would look even prettier!”

“Um…”

“Junior’s right!” His daughter is quick to grab his hand, tugging him to and out the door and -presumably- to her room. “A dress without makeup is like a suit with no tie! It’s required by fashion law!”

From there, it was a series of events that had led to Luigi putting on his favorite dress, getting the rest of the kids as a makeshift judge panel, and ‘posing’ for each color and shade imaginable.

His personal favorites where ‘Nude Beach’ and ‘Pretty in Pink’, colors that went well with his skin tone and apparently gave him a ‘naturalistic look’.

But, overall, Luigi didn’t think there would be any shades he would really like-

And then he tried ‘Written in Blood’ (what are these names).

It was a dark red, a few shades lighter than dried blood (which he knew because of kitchen related accidents), and had let his blue eyes ‘pop’.

Mostly, he liked how it made him look almost elegant- maybe even a bit alluring, for a lack of a better word.

Of course, the kids just thought of it as ‘pretty’, but he’ll take their unanimous agreement on the color being ‘his’.

And Luigi ended up with a new, if not small, collection of lipstick.

From then, he dipped into wearing lipstick every now and then, usually sticking to the natural colors for everyday use and wearing the dark red for special occasions.

(It also led to growing his collection through recommendations from Peach, Daisy, and Wendy, but it’s a story for another time.)

The first time he wore it in front of Bowser was during their fifth anniversary, eliciting a sputtering, wide-eyed reaction that had Luigi feeling particularly fluttery.

And when Bowser nervously asked if he could wear it more often?

Well, Luigi may have acquiesced for more than one reason, but the smoldering brimstone look from his husband was his biggest.

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[aresianrepose]

Before the semester kicks off and murders me, @disniq​ asked for my essay on Jason Todd and hysteria. So, without further ado, here is an actual essay (fucking dissertation) because I refuse brevity. It is extremely long. I’ve split it into sections so you can find the section header and read what you want. This does not encompass all the narrative trauma themes and lived experiences that this boy holds, just specifically hysteria. 

Jason Todd, The Hysteric & Bruce Wayne, The Batman

I think it’s a common reading that Jason Todd is girl-coded and the patron saint of victims, at least within the circle that I’ve fallen into within this fandom. There are plenty of meta discussions on why those readings stand, so I’m not going to reiterate them. A pillar of him being girl-coded and someone trauma survivors have latched onto as one of our own has to do with being written in the context of hysterical femininity. And let me just say, I don’t think that writing was done in a way that he was intentionally coded as hysterical, but it is a function of our patriarchal society that this coding was used on him albeit without the explicit purpose of writing a hysteric story. 

For the purpose of this post: the word woman includes ciswomen, transwomen, and any person who is socially positioned as a woman regardless of gender identity. I include the positionality here because anyone can experience misogyny and sexism depending on the perception of the perpetrators either interpersonally or systemically. 

The History and Context of Hysteria

To understand the context, we have to look at the history and oppression of hysteria. Hysteria (in the modern context of psychology) emerged in the nineteenth century and is difficult to define by design and often applied to traumatized, unruly, and broken women. The main patriarchs who contributed to hysterical study were Jean-Martin Charcot and Sigmund Freud. I only mention this because it’s important to know their names moving forward for any of this to make sense. The beginning of this started with Charcot literally putting women whose lives had been marked by rape, abuse, exploitation, and poverty on display in his Tuesday lectures (which were open to the public) to show his findings on hysteria. This was actually seen as restoring dignity (fucking yikes) to the women because before Charcot these hysterical women were cast aside and not treated at all. In Charcot’s work, the women’s speech was seen as simply “vocalization” and their inner lives, their stories, their words, were silenced. After hearing a woman cry for her mother during one of the public sessions Charcot remarked, “Again, note these screams. You could say it’s a lot of noise over nothing” (Herman). 

This led to Freud, Charcot’s student, wanting to surpass his teacher by discovering the cause of hysteria. This was disastrous. Freud started with listening to the hysterics. In doing so, he learned and believed them about the abuse, rape, and exploitation of their pasts. He then published his work and gave a lecture on it. The work rivals even contemporary psychological work on trauma in it’s level of compassion, understanding, and treatment of survivors. However, he was then labeled a feminist (this was all happening during the first wave of feminism) and professionally ostracized. How in the world could these aristocratic French men be sexually abusing their wives, sisters, and daughters??? Insanity, truly. And... This always fucking gets me. He recanted his work and then told his patients they all imagined it because they wanted to be sexually abused by their husbands, brothers, and fathers. This set back the study of trauma by literally a century. One colleague called his work “a scientific fairy-tale” simply because he had the audacity to believe victims. Also, I want to point out that the famous hysteria case during this time was the case of Anna O and she was ultimately villainized by the entire psychological community for going into crisis after her care provider abruptly ended their therapeutic relationship after two years of DAILY sessions. 

Anyway. We can see how the power of these men over vulnerable women silenced, pathologized, villainized, infantilized, and used male ‘logic’ to completely destroy their credibility and lives under the guise of care and hysteria. Even when credible men lend their expertise and voices to the victims, their voices are silenced. This particular iteration of hysteria lasted over a century, and we are still dealing with the consequences of these actions and ideas within our social construction, medical and mental health care, interpersonal relationships, and more. Patriarchal pillars such as hysteria don’t die. We saw it move from hysteria to schizophrenia (which used to have the same symptoms of hysteria before the diagnosis changed in more contemporary psychology) after this which led to widespread lobotomies and electroshock therapy (my least favorite case of a lobotomy being done is on a woman who was diagnosed with LITERALLY ‘narcissist husband’) to depression in the 40s-50s with the over prescription of benzodiazepines to house wives to keep them in a zombie state (these prescriptions were sometimes double and triple what we take today with the intent of medical catatonia). In my opinion, as well as other counselors within the feminist therapy theoretical orientation, we are currently seeing it with the emergence of borderline-personality disorder. Think about how BPD is treated and demonized for a second. I professionally know therapists who refuse to work with BPD clients due to this villainization and just fucking gross perception of victims.

These are just the highlights, but it shows the history of hysteria. There have been centuries of women being marked as hysterical and the cures have ranged from lobotomy to bed rest (which sounds not so bad but read the Yellow Wallpaper and get back to me on that one). While the Yellow Wallpaper is fictional, the life behind it was not. After the traumatic birth of her child the author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, was remanded to bed rest by the authority of her husband and doctor. Within the sphere of medical control, hysterical women are often treated as children while their doctors make decisions for their mental well-being without consulting them, or they hide the truth of their procedures for “the woman’s own good” and because “she’s hysterical and wouldn’t comprehend the logical need for this.” She then had a mental break due to the treatment. Again, we see hysterical women being silenced, infantilized, discredited from their own experiences, and under the narrative control of male logic and voices. 

Hysterical women have often historically been seen as beneath men, except for when they’re dangerous. Listening to victims is inherently threatening to the status quo because all trauma comes from a systemic framework. The framework that upholds patriarchal power. It’s easy to see why that would be seen as dangerous to powerful men. We saw this with the European witch genocide in which oppressed women were targeted and wiped out under the excuse of what was considered women’s work. (Before this time, witchcraft wasn’t tied to any religion and was mostly just seen as women’s work. It was targeted specifically to have an excuse to persecute widows, homeless, disabled, and vulnerable women who no longer had men to reign over them during a time of political unrest and scarce resources). This time period saw hysterical and traumatized women demonized as dangerous, evil, immoral, hypersexual, and supernaturally wily. A threat to the moral fabric of society. 

(Interesting history side note: this caused the view of women’s base traits we have today. It stemmed from the Victorian era that came after this time period in which women learned if they behaved a certain way, they would be spared the stake. For example, before the witch trials, women were actually seen as the ones with unsatiable sexual appetites, something we culturally prescribe to men now.) 

Notice how none of this has to do with the actual abuse that happens to the women, but instead the labeling and treatment of women when they are already showing the symptoms of abuse, trauma, control, exploitation, and rape. 

Jason Todd, The Hysteric

So, how does this relate to Jason Todd? To say that Jason has experienced trauma would be an understatement. Extreme poverty, loss of parent to death and addiction, loss of parent to the justice system, parental abuse, manipulation, witnessing violent crimes, witnessing the aftermath of sexual abuse and assault, arguably (not explicit in the text) his own sexual trauma, witnessing the dead bodies of victims, a violent death, and subsequently a violent resurrection. There’s also an argument to be made for being a child soldier and how that is romanticized up until he dies, but the text does not treat this as traumatizing.

Now, I’m not going to dive into the trauma he experienced. The purpose of this is only to look at how he’s framed as hysterical in the narrative, and as I stated, hysteria was a word slapped on women after they tried to talk about their trauma or exhibited symptoms (or were just unruly women). Jason does embody many facets of the victim experience and this is just one of them. 

Feelings vs “logic” - Firstly, it is really hard to talk calmly about things that you carry, your experiences, your trauma, and things that specifically harm you. It is easy to talk calmly about things that don’t. This is why there is an abuse tactic of gaslighting or silencing victims by framing their very real reactions to harm or their triggers as abuse, this is known as “reactive abuse.” This tactic is also employed in oppressive settings where the privileged group will often default to ‘winning’ a debate by being able to remain calm while the marginalized group whose life, personhood, etc is being harmed by the things being discussed and are unable to have a sterilized, emotionless debate. 

Both of these settings fit Jason nicely within the moral context of vigilante comics. He fought back, he didn’t lay down, and he will do what he deems as necessary to protect himself and others from his fate. This, however, is framed by Bruce and others as being just as bad as his murderer or even just as bad as Joe fucking Chill. To put this in perspective of a real world equivalent. Combine every billionaire on this planet into one person and instead of their shitty business practices murdering people, they did it with their own two hands. And due to their resources and political power, they would never, ever stop killing or be reasonably contained. More people would die with absolute 100% certainty. Would killing that one person make you equally bad as that person or violating the sanctity of life? That’s the moral question that Bruce puts onto Jason. While the moral question inherent to Jason is actually, is there a line worth crossing to provide reasonable safety (for yourself or the nameless community)? There is actually a difference between those two questions and the reactive abuse framing is certainly a choice. Also, it is funny to me that a man with the amount of power Bruce has (and frequently misuses) can lecture a murder victim on the misuse of power and morality. Are we supposed to be agree with his stoic, philosophical lecturing to a marginalized, abused, murder victim? (yes, we are). Bruce leverages (personal) philosophy against victim’s voice for their own safety, and take a wild guess which one is framed as logical and reasonable.

Jason’s morals come secondary to Bruce’s philosophy in a universe where there is still harm being done (but it’s an acceptable harm). Why is killing the line? Bruce is regularly destroying families and lives by feeding them into the prison industrial complex while supporting it with his whole chest. Or he’s disabling and seriously maiming people with the level of violence he uses. 

Crying - Throughout the entire story of Under the Red Hood, we never once see Bruce emote while interacting with Jason outside of tight grimaces. With the exception of the shock he shows at the Joker’s life being threatened, which... Okay, suuure. We never see him cry during any of their interactions, but we do see Jason cry. Specifically, we see him crying when he’s at his most emotionally vulnerable and physically dangerous to the toxic male power fantasy. This kind of vulnerability is rarely shown by male characters, and when it is, it’s usually done with a mist of a tear in their eyes or their face is hidden. There are a few narrative devices that allow men to cry, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Usually, it’s to play for laughs, infantilize, or emasculate. Here, we see Jason combine the violence of a bad victim, bucking the system of power, and fully crying. Just slide right into that hysterical coding like a glove. Jason often shows his feelings entirely. Time and time again, the readers have seen Jason have breakdowns, cry, and be overcome with grief. This is tied to his portrayal as hysterical and unstable in the narrative, but in actuality it shows his capacity for love and how vastly impactful his death was. 

This fits nicely with the next point that Jason fits into the hysterical box. Love is framed as one of his key faults. A son reaching for his father. 

Love - One of Jason’s defining features is the amount of love and compassion he holds. He’s willing to put up with any treatment, shoulder blame, and sacrifice himself for others to almost an unhealthy degree. However, this doesn’t extend to what he defines as his baseline safety. This one line of safety is the one thing that can’t be crossed, even with all of the love he feels for his father. He desperately wants to feel connection, have a family, and be loved in return with the same unwavering ferocity love that he gives. This is such a fucking key part of the victim experience, especially victims of childhood trauma. The desperation to just be chosen. He’s raw and honest with his reasonable expectation for love to provide safety for him and that is framed as hysterical, needy, unstable, naive, and fucking childish. Victims know what they need to have safety, and this framing as Bruce knowing what’s best for Jason and literally giving a cold shoulder to his needs is disgusting. 

Less than - Jason is portrayed as less powerful than Bruce even though they have similar expertise. There are so many instances of this that if you just open any media they both appear in, you can close your eyes, point, and land on an example. It makes me die laughing every time I remember that the Arkham games made Jason just one inch shorter than Bruce. Like, they can’t even be the same fucking height, that’s the level of insecure masculinity surrounding this relationship. Jason cannot and will never be able to be on par with Bruce because of his hysterical femininity and the power of Bruce being the self insert for the toxic male power fantasy. This power dynamic applies to the other batkids as well, but specifically in Jason’s case there is an element of hysteria. The reasons change because he’s so inconsistently written but usually he can’t surpass or even meet a stalemate with Bruce because he’s too emotional, he’s unstable, traumatized, and simply Bad. It’s even explicitly stated by Alfred in Under the Red Hood. 

Victim blaming - Jason deserved to die because he didn’t follow orders. Jason deserved to die for not following his training. Jason deserved to die because he was an angry Robin (oh no a child had an appropriate reaction to sexual violence). Jason deserved to die for being human.

Infantilization - Jason is repeatedly infantilized in contrast to Bruce. When given the ultimatum at the end of UtRH, Bruce speaks to Jason like a child, or a bad dog. Ordering him to do things like, “enough!” or “stop this now.” Bruce knows what’s best for Jason (and for everyone in the entire world), we should really just take his word for it and not the victim’s. Imagine staring at a 6 foot wall of a man and scolding him like a child. Beyond that, as mentioned above, his views of love and safety are framed as childish. Even though they are actually leaning more toward collectivism rather than the rampant individualism that Bruce so strongly defers to. (also, just a side note, collectivistic methods in healing from trauma is actually the only scientifically reliable way to heal. Every other method has absolutely abysmal results and higher rates of relapses.)

Silenced and Safety Villainized - Jason is silenced in his own story, acceptable and honored when he was dead and met with vitriol in life. All of the love given to him as Robin turns to ash as soon as he collides with Bruce’s power and morals. I think any survivor can relate to the experience of being told that what happened to them was a long time ago and it’s time to move on. Or even that they’re leveraging their own safety to get what they want in a manipulative way. Regardless of whether or not there was any accountability or justice for the harm done to them. Alfred asks Bruce if he should remove Jason’s memorial in the cave like two seconds after learning of his resurrection because Jason’s methods of securing safety for himself and using his own voice to define his story. Bruce was able to tell Jason’s story when he died. He was able to memorialize, grieve, and ultimately define Jason’s story because Jason wasn’t there to speak for himself. When Jason does speak for himself, he is villainized and literally stripped of his past significance as Robin (or a good victim) by Alfred within seconds. This is reflected in real life with adoptee advocates speaking about how adoption is unethical/harmful/traumatizing and subsequently being framed as ungrateful, selfish, etc. They were little perfect victims without voices before they grew up and could speak for themselves.

Erased - Gestures at the entirety of how Jason is either talked about or completely erased during the 90s Tim Robin run. He wasn’t convenient to talk about, as victims rarely are. This also ties into how Steph’s death was erased and Babs was written like she “won” at trauma by simply... beating it??? 

Dangerous - Jason is framed as threatening the basic fabric of society (in a story with vigilantes this is hard to do, so they have him oppose the no-kill rule, and then doubled down on Bruce’s characterization of no-killing). Anything that bucks the status-quo is usually marked as villainous in mainstream vigilante/superhero comics, but this is a step beyond that into the interpersonal and political sphere. Hysterical women are often framed as dangerous, villains, snakes, and treacherous (the other side of this coin is weak, pathetic, and pitiable) because they are victimized and then have the audacity to do something to the system about it. Whether that be the system of their immediate families or the political sphere. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jason was paired with Talia in Lost Days to hammer this point home to the reader. It could’ve just as easily been anyone with access to the Pit that rescued him, but no, we had DC’s favorite brown, treacherous, venomous, female punching bag. 

Bruce Wayne, The Batman

Bruce fits well into the father, enforcer, and logical man slot in Jason’s hysterical story. There is a history of ownership throughout women’s history when it comes to their subjugation to men. Women actually couldn’t be put on trial before the witchcraft genocide because they weren’t seen as legally a person. Their male owner would be put on trial instead. Women would go from being owned by their fathers to their husbands after entering marriage, the most dangerous woman being one who isn’t owned (orphaned, widowed). Bruce does treat (and even thinks) about Jason like he’s something that he owns. He’s his protege, his son, and his responsibility. 

The narrative function of Bruce as a perpetrator in Jason’s story. 

“The perpetrator asks the bystander (reader) to do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear, and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander (reader) to share the burden of pain. The victim demands action, engagement and remembering” (Herman). 

Bruce does remember what happened to Jason. He keeps a permanent memorial to his dead son. However, this doesn’t translate into any kind of tangible action. He doesn’t do anything to actually stop the murderer who took his son’s life and he continues to throw child soldiers at the problem of crime (how many children have died for the sake of his no-kill rule at this point?). When met with the reality of his inaction, he fits into the perpetrator’s role like a glove:

“In order to escape accountability for his crimes, the perpetrator does everything in his power to promote forgetting. Secrecy and silence are the first line of defense... If secrecy fails, the perpetrator attacks the credibility of his victim. If he cannot silence her absolutely, he tries to make sure that no one listens... From the most blatant denial to the most sophisticated and elegant rationalization... One can expect to hear the same predictable apologies: it never happened; the victim exaggerates; the victim brought it upon herself; and in any case it’s time to forget the past and move on. The more powerful the perpetrator, the greater his prerogative to name and define reality, the more completely his arguments prevail” (Herman). 

I think it is simply fact at this point that Bruce is the head patriarch in Gotham if not, arguably, in the entirety of DC. That level of power in the narrative cannot be ignored, especially when faced with the very real, screaming voice of a victim that Bruce uses all of that power to silence. Bruce, because of his status as patriarch, default protagonist, and self-insert for the toxic male power fantasy, has the ultimate power to name and define reality. Especially to the reader. Bruce doesn’t deny what happened to Jason, because that’s physically impossible to do. But what he does do is ensure that no one listens to Jason, discredits him, and rationalizes his own inaction, actions of violence towards Jason, and victim blames.

Here’s Bruce using the most base form of denial and victim blaming:

After this panel, Bruce also revokes Dick’s access to his childhood home simply for asking a question.

This theme extends to other members of the batfam because of Bruce’s narrative power over them. It’s why we can’t have Dick, Steph, Babs, or even Damian step in and relate to Jason’s trauma or vindicate him. Even when we, the readers, can see parallels and wonder why these conversations or bonds aren’t forming. Jason HAS to be a lone wolf because he is hysterical and a threat to the system of power. This also shows why most of his runs in group settings outside of the batfam fall apart or fall flat. If he was humanized by any other character or had his trauma validated in any actionable way, it would be recognizing the failure of the toxic male power fantasy. The readers are not supposed to see the flaw in this system that allows the bodies of children to pile up and sympathize with one of their voices. It would be a crack in the system of power that exists not only in the source material, but very much within our real world.

Side note: Jason is allowed to interact with others in a wholesome and validating way when he no longer threatens the systemic power of Bruce. When he is silenced by the writers and plays the “nice victim” (like Babs does), he is allowed connection. Only when his healing is done in a way that doesn’t demand action and is only his personal responsibility (gotta love the rampant individualism). If he is hysterical, demands action, and asks for someone to be held accountable for his death, he is shoved away into a lone wolf box. Examples: Gotham Knights (from my very basic understanding, I haven’t played the game, only seen play throughs) and WFA. Victims are acceptable if they do their healing in a neat little box and stay there, but hysterics are the ones who step outside of that box.

Red Hood, The Political Voice of Hysteria and Trauma

Red Hood is deeply political in terms of hysteria and trauma. Herman stated that victims and those that authentically care for them or listen to them intently (whether that be interpersonally, clinically, or professionally) are silenced, ostracized, and discredited. Survivors need a social context that supports the victim and that joins the victim and witness in a common alliance. On an interpersonal level this looks like family, friends, and loved ones. However, trauma is systemic and the social context mentioned above must also be given on a wider social scale. For this to be done, there had to be systemic change and political action. Jason had the interpersonal social support and witnesses to his trauma ripped from him by Bruce. So, we see him move onto a systemic level of addressing trauma in his own political way. He literally cannot escape Bruce and this constant trigger because of Bruce’s philosophy and just... fucking power to define reality... being re-enforced constantly in DC no matter where he tries to go. So, he tries to heal by taking the systemic issue of perpetrators who cannot be held accountable or have fallen through the cracks of accountability into his own hands in a very personal way. A one man political movement.

Whether his methods are moral or ethical doesn’t really matter in the overall framing him as hysteric. He simply has to be opposed by the male power fantasy in some significant way. This shows that the goals, needs, and work towards victim’s and the marginalized’s freedom is dangerous, doomed to fail, and ultimately unethical if the victim is framed in a villain light instead of the more pathetic/pitiable iteration of hysteria. 

You can see how this is not only problematic but also reflects the real world values instilled in arguments against human rights movements (which are intrinsically tied to victims rights). Defunding the police is dangerous, the MeToo movement is dangerous, abolition is dangerous, trans rights are dangerous, etc etc etc. Think of the victims voices tied to each of these movements and how they are integral to the real change offered by these political movements. You can’t have human rights violations without creating victims. And you can’t have political movements surrounding human rights without listening to victims.

We can also see how the individuals within these movements are ostracized, villianized, and often silenced (sometimes ultimately silenced with death) because they rally against the systems of power that victimized them. The framing of traumatized, vulnerable people as hysterical is integral to upholding the system of power that traumatizes and harms them.

A popular comic book movie adaptation that highlights the importance of Jason’s hysterical framing and how it impacts the political narrative/how he is written is V for Vendetta. To be fair, it received an insane amount of backlash by conservatives (not within leftist or liberal spaces) for V’s methods in over throwing fascism, but only because of the movie’s release date being so close to 9/11. V and Jason have many parallels, it’s only the lack of hysterical framing that makes V more palatable to the viewer. We are told, not shown through behavior, that V is traumatized by his past and he does not pick a fight with the protagonist that functions as a toxic male power fantasy. He is the protag, with his version of Bruce being men who are not framed in a sympathetic, heroic, or relatable light. 

Additionally, there is literally an unemoting mask standing between the viewer and V, whereas Jason takes off his helmet to allow the reader to see every aspect of his trauma and pain. V readily dehumanizes himself into an idea, rather than a person. Whereas Jason screams to be seen as a person in a very hysterical way. So, we can see how the framing of Jason as hysteric against the logical, heroic man greatly impacts how the audience reads him when contrasted by a very similar political story/character who uses similar (and arguably more violent) methods to meet his ends. (This just made me realize that I would die for a Jason adaptation written by the Wachowski sisters). 

Jason’s work as Red Hood is seeped in leftist, victim, and community centered politics. His portrayal as a hysterical antagonist (at best an anti-hero) is rooted in misogyny and upholding patriarchal, capitalist, and the prison industrial complex systems of power. He is the righteous embodiment of “the personal is political” for victims. Even his Robin run draws attention to and shows correct, angry reactions to the system of patriarchal power in sexual violence.

Patriarchal Writing and Enforcement

Jason is girl-coded and hysterical because he’s supposed to be emasculated, discredited, and disliked by the reader. He serves the narrative function of boosting the toxic male power fantasy of Bruce and in doing so, the writers use one of the oldest tropes in the book (one that we have all subconsciously been taught since birth) to get the reader on their side. Make him a hysterical woman. 

References: for anyone interested in furthering their understanding of any of the concepts mentioned above and to, you know, use sources for my own writing.

Barstow, A. Witchcraze

Bondi, L., Burman. E. Women and Mental Health: A Feminist Review

Freud, S. The Aietology of Hysteria

Gilman, C. P. The Yellow Wallpaper

Herman, J. Trauma and Recovery

Ussher, J. The Madness of Women.

Van der Kolk, B. The Body Keeps the Score

Wilkin, L., Hillock, S. Enhancing MSW Students’ Efficacy in Working with Trauma, Violence, and Oppression: An Integrated Feminist-Trauma Framework for Social Work Education

[13thdoodle]

bunch of Phantasy AU doodles n wip from earlier this year

Basically I just found out this year that ball-jointed dolls actually have strings in them and not just... magically attached by the ball joints themselves? And 31 in this AU is a ball jointed doll that were made out of Danny's energy so here we are :3c

I've been watching a lot of doll customization since earlier this year and found out from dollightful's video that no they are all connected by elastic strings inside so that's where the idea came from

...i was looking on google to find a good example to put here and clearly I'm not exactly paying attention to how the main body strings are actually.. pinned to?

the video I've been watching the most is dollightful n moonlight jewel and they have their bjd usually only to the bottom of the doll head instead of all the way to the top on the skull pin like the diagram above

Which is why 31 has his strings all connected to the 'heart' in the middle instead of the head kasjdnkasjnd

But yeah uhhh specifics aside...

----

Those ball jointed dolls made me think of 31, and then thinking about the clones in Phantasy AU and like.. the logistic of it

for 31, the idea is that during the circus gothica arc for this AU, Danny actually got kidnapped all the whole way into another universe/plane in which he met Valeska (Enn's oc) who unalive what his face the circus leader n break Danny's hypnosis

and now that Danny is essentially stuck in a whole other plane/realm/or sth he just following Valeska hoping she'll help him find his way back.

In one such trip, Danny got kidnapped (again) by another group/cult who wanted to use his power/energy as a gate keeper to the ghost zone to make their own gate keeper so they can open portals to ghost zones and maybe other realms too

31 is part of the experiments. He's a doll made with part of Danny's energy as his core.

And then it's.. uhh.. sth sth Valeska finally found out where they kept Danny and devour everyone there safe from Danny n 31 who helped him escape so now the three of them travel together~

The last pict is me thinking about clones and kingdom hearts :tm: so dramatic about Danny being the soul separated from the main body and 31 a clone made from part of the soul too and all that Not sure where I'm going with that but it do sound cool

And there's also Danielle but I'm not exactly sure.. how she would fit in? but it would be interesting if she was made from Danny's body somehow

so 31 made from part of teh soul and Dani from part of the body sounds poetic somehow

[fluffypotatey]

*smashes in like the Kool-Aid man*

PENDRAGON SIBLINGS YOU SAY????

I have. So many Feels. About Themst™

The complexity?? The layers?? The angst?? Hello??????

Their relationship is just So Much, because you are right, it's all tangled up in miscommunication and missed opportunities, and so many problems that can be sourced back to Uther "War Crimes" Pendragon, who wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it bit him on the ass.

If Merlin and Arthur are two sides of the same coin, then Arthur and Morgana are edges of the same blade.

Because it's the lonely childhoods, the shared grief, the friendship, the vulnerability, the fondness, the teasing, the envy, the jealousy, the almost romance, the protectiveness, the betrayal, the loss, the hurt, the refusal to let go and the desperate hanging on, and the love, the love, the love.

Indifference is the true opposite of love.

Hate is love that's gone rotten.

“If Merlin and Arthur are two sides of the same coin, then Arthur and Morgana are edges of the same blade.” oh fuck….

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK

WAIT HOLD ON WAIT LEMME PIGGYBACK ON THAT BESTIE @0hheytherebigbadwolf (tagging you bc it will be a couple days after you sent this ask)

(Also, for anyone wanting background context on what me and bestie are bouncing off on: voilà)

OK OK SO

we are all familiar with King Uther being the greatest (worst) dad of all time, correct? places such high expectations on his “only son and heir” whilst never officially acknowledging Morgana as his daughter until the very end?

F+ father of the year :)

he is not above sending his children into the dungeon if they disobey him as seen here:

(Jfc he even put Morgana in chains like wtf)

also, he is not above using emotional guilt towards them when he deems it necessary (aka one of the only times he actually acknowledges them as his children)

UTHER (1x02 Valiant) I trust you will make me proud.

UTHER (1x08 The Beginning of the End) I’ve treated you like a daughter. Is this how you repay me?

UTHER (1x12 To Kill the King) You are the daughter I never had.

UTHER (2x08 Sins of the Father) You would believe a sorcerer’s lies over the word of your father?

not to mention that when Arthur or Morgana try to reason with him or argue with him since they are the only ones with the status to do so, he pulls rank

UTHER (1x12 To Kill the King) May I remind you that you are speaking to your King [...] Take care, child, or I’ll have you restrained.

UTHER (2x08 Sins of the Father) I am your king and your father. You will show me some respect!

UTHER (2x06 Beauty and the Beast) We live in dangerous times, I cannot allow you to undermine my authority.

UTHER (3x10 Queen of Hearts) You have caused this to happen, Arthur. My decision is final.

ngl i could include more but i have already spent hours searching for shit (YOUTUBE WILL DIE BY MY HAND THAT STINGY BITC—) but y’all get what i mean: Uther is an abusive fucker and it has messed up the conditions of Arthur and Morgana

now, about the double edged blade…..

as previously established, Uther is a fucking dick and wants his children to obey him but also adore him. with this behavior, the Pendragon siblings react in two ways: with anger & contempt or submission and remorse

way #1

i’m gonna start with Morgana because anger is the easiest to pick out throughout the show. in the first episode of the first season, our introduction to Morgana’s character is her lecturing Uther about executing the man Merlin witnessed upon entering Camelot (such a warm welcome for Emrys, mh?)

MORGANA I just don't think chopping someone's head off is cause for a celebration. That poor mother. UTHER It was simple justice for what he'd done. MORGANA To whom? He practiced some magic, he didn't hurt anyone. UTHER You were not around twenty years ago, you have no idea what it was like. MORGANA How long are you going to keep punishing people for what happened then?

early on, it is easy to pick up on Morgana’s resentment and anger at Uther, who she believes is blinded by his fear of magic and his need for control (which she isn’t wrong about). also, we find that she isn’t one to back off when poking the bear (Uther). she does it constantly in seasons 1 & 2

MORGANA (1x03 Mark of Nimueh) Why would she kneel on a cold stone floor morning after morning when she could make these things happen with a snap of her fingers? Like an idle king!

MORGANA (1x08 The Beginning of the End) How can this child be your enemy? He's just a boy. UTHER He is a Druid. MORGANA Is that such a crime?…What have these people done to you? Why are you so full of hate?

UTHER (2x04 Lancelot and Guinevere) How many men would you have me sacrifice to save a servant? MORGANA  As many as it takes!

to be honest, i wouldn’t be surprised if screaming, arguing and berating Uther about his morals and ethics is her way of proving that she is not weak or submissive to his actions. i mean, Morgana grew up in a household the complete opposite from her time in Camelot. Gorlois, the man whom Morgana considers to be her father and one and only family member, was said to be “just” and “kind” and someone that Uther even considered a good friend who openly kept him in check. Morgana, until the age of ten, understood parental love and empathy unlike Arthur, who spent his whole life without any good or healthy substance of it.

the culture of Camelot and Uther’s wrath is not something Morgana was ever able to fully acclimate to as Uther himself pointed out in 1x12. She “was at odds with [him] since the beginning” and could never picture herself as a Pendragon (point further proven in 4x05: she looked revolted when Queen Annis compared her to Uther) because she didn’t share in their idea of magic = evil and a king = absolute control.

ironic in terms of future plot events, isn’t it :’)

way #2

compare that to Arthur: man’s respressed af. keeps all his emotions under lock and key if they are anything but haughty and serious. y’all, Arthur even says it himself how he “[can't] disagree with Father [Uther] in public.” whenever Arthur finds himself at odds with Uther, he holds his tongue and waits until he can disobey secretly (2x05 when he leaves to rescue Gwen, 1x08 when he helps Morgana sneak out Mordred in the dark of the night, 2x08 when he sneaks out to meet Morgause for more info about his mom, etc). it is only the rare moments when Arthur feels impassioned enough to speak up without fearing any retribution does Arthur talk back at him (so satisfying 👌)

ARTHUR (1x03 Mark of Nimueh) [Morgana’s] right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen.

ARTHUR (2x08 Sins of the Father) This is what fuels your hatred for those who practice magic. Rather than blame yourself for what you did, you blame them….You hunted her kind like animals! How many hundreds have you condemned to death to ease your guilt?!….You speak of honour and nobility! You're nothing but a hypocrite and a liar!

ARTHUR (3x10 Queen of Hearts) You can't forbid my feelings any more than I can. I won't deny them any longer, I love her. I love Guinevere.

we can even compare how the two react to Uther’s violence towards them

(ahahahahahaaaaa what a wonderful dad)

on the left, you see Arthur’s face right when Uther crushes the morteus flower needed to heal Merlin (his manservant/friend/????) and on the right, is Morgana after Uther discovers she was harboring a Druid child in her chambers and she refuses to listen to his reason.

notice how both faces are remarkably similar 👀

however, Arthur’s look of shock and dismay come from his hope that Uther would do the right thing. that he would help save Merlin’s life from dying of poison. that he wouldn’t use this as a method to teach Arthur “what it means to disobey and cross the king.” he truly did hope, just like he always does with the people he holds close. Arthur cannot help but hope and trust that those close to him will not betray him and yet so many do. hence the remorse

looking at Morgana, her shock comes from the fact that this might be the first time Uther reacted to her words and actions in a physical manner. my suspicion is that most of the time, all Morgana previously got was Uther reprimanding her and yelling at her to stop questioning his methods (bc, let’s be real, she was the favorite child.) never has he lifted a finder on her like Arthur and i have proof (cue transcript!)

AND! and, Arthur is constantly warning Morgana about not angering Uther any further because of the consequences she might face (consequences this boy is very familiar with) when Uther deems it necessary to “teach” his children obedience.

UTHER (1x04 The Poisoned Chalice) You have to learn there's a right and a wrong way of doing things. I'll see you're let out in a week. Then you can find yourself another servant.

UTHER (3x10 Queen of Hearts) You have caused this to happen, Arthur. My decision is final [...] This is for your own good. - UTHER She will die. The enchantment will be broken. You'll see I was right.

UTHER (2x08 Sins of the Father) I am protecting you from your own foolishness!

so educational 🥰 but see, because Uther presents his punishments as lessons, Arthur himself views them as just a fucked up but meaningful way of his father’s concern because “yeah, I am the first born son and only heir to the throne. of course I need to learn not to do silly things like disobey, talk back to him, be my own person.” <- I’m paraphrasing here

Arthur does and has never seen a way out of the life thrust upon him by Uther (see 3x06). succeeding Uther as king, marrying a noblewoman of high standing for heirs and alliance strength was always expected of him. Arthur never saw a way out of this. even when he and Gwen were in their secret relationship phase, Arthur had to remind himself that this would never last. he loved her and knew she loved him, but there was always that reminder (that sounded a lot like Uther) in the back of his head telling him that it would never last so long as he was prince. he had a duty (constructed by Uther) to serve Camelot and going against his father would mean (in his eyes) that he is going against Camelot (as Uther always presented it to be).

so unlike Morgana, he did not kick and scream but stood firm because that was what he believed was stronger. if he stayed in his lane and did his part, then he would be a good king, maybe even a better one than his father, for Camelot. however, the show proves that differentiating himself from Uther actually made him the better king and more respected, but this is not the meta for that. I am getting side tracked.

OK: so we’ve established parental issues between the two siblings. now onto their very complex, complicated yet beloved dynamic

sO, as i mentioned in this post (because i am lazy and too tired to copy/paste the evidence from there), these siblings do care for one another. they just go about it in the most hilarious and repressed and in-denial way (hilarious to me 😤)

when we meet them, it’s established that these two have known each other for some time. enough for them to bicker and have banter, you know, as you do with a Pendragon. also, should add, neither character are ever aware they are blood-related until s3 (because of some weak-ass bitch named Uther), so you have that very, uh, interesting subplot in s1 that everybody forgets about until you rewatch it. (honestly, I have so many questions. number 1: why???? number 2: it’s only in s1—was it scrapped??? is it like it never existed???? what was its purpose to the plot??? bbc explain yourself—)

however, despite how much it is shown that they do care for one another, they’re relationship in s1 is still undefined and vague as if they also don’t know how to accurately define what the other means to them. it’s very similar to the whole “i really love this person so much but is what i’m feeling platonic, familial, or romantic?” because….you know, guy and girl besties who are close are typically expected to grow romantic feelings for each other, so tbh i would not be surprised if both mistook their love as romantically inclined in the beginning bc, reminder, neither of them were aware they were siblings until much later.

[and this is ALL i am saying on this subplot. i do not want to cause any negative discourse, so if anyone has a few choice words about it, either keep it to yourself or feel free to talk about it with people you know. personally? not a fan of the ship and never will be, but i am not here to post about that.]

anyway, have some featured receipts showing Arthur and Morgana slipping up and showing how much they care for each other.

SEE!!!! LOOK AT HOW THE CARE!!!! SEE HOW THEY WORRY FOR THE OTHER AND WISH TO PROTECT THEM FROM HARM!!! (and see how even when they’re on opposite sides there is still that same love. just more warped and corrupted T^T)

^worried/protective Morgana

^Arthur’s face after Merlin informs him that there’s an intruder heading to Morgana’s chambers

Morgana is very aware of Arthur’s trusting nature. Arthur is very aware of Morgana’s empathy and righteous nature. they understand each other so well which is why Morgana knew just how to harm Arthur in later seasons and why Morgana’s betrayal hit Arthur so hard. it’s also why he never stopped trying to reach out to her in s4 & s5. as @merlinemrys said in this lovely post, the show’s driving force is love. love of all kinds. whatever conflict it is, love is there at the center of it all and, in Arthur and Morgana’s case, it does not save them (just like how love does not save Merlin or Arthur from what lies ahead, as the op of the post pointed out).

that is what makes their relationship/love be like a double edged sword!! that is why they are edges of the same blade!!! they protect and fight for what they believe in and for the people they love, but the same blades cut deep and twist their wounds into a lasting scar.

it is because of Arthur’s love for Morgana that he cannot help but hope and mourn the woman he once knew. it is because of Morgana’s love for Arthur that her feelings of hatred are so strong and ugly.

like honestly,

look at them T^T compared to before

their relationship is so tragic T^T because we knew them before it all went wrong. we knew they cared and understood each other. we knew that for some time, they only had each other to rely on for a friend, a crutch, a breather for when the royal life was too much. both of them were fighters and strive to honor their values. both of them had once leaned on the other for support, had wanted nothing but happiness for each other.

fuck, they didn’t even get the chance to really be siblings because they found out too late, and by then Morgana was on a war path and Arthur only found out at the last minute.

like fuck, man

two sides of the same blade: forged with love, yet used for blood

screencaps brought to you by me, @sourdough-morbread, and farfarawaysite

[chiropteracupola]

just a couple of creepy 18th-century innkeepers talking shop!

[featuring @borisyvain's lazarus mcclure and my own james webster]

[the-bleeding-typewriter]

currently reading the wikipedia entry for Bengal Tigers because i watched Endeavour season 3, episode 3: "Prey" and now i guess i'm going to write another canon divergence AU fic in which Morse gets mauled......again.

[en-scribed]

THE THREE BIRDS [fantasy short story]

Personified immortal Stars have lived secretly on Earth throughout history. This piece takes place in 13th century Iran, notable for astronomical scholarship, and Arabic star names are used as the main roots. Waqi (currently the Star Vega) leads Taira (Altair) and Dhanab (Deneb) on a mission to secure the Stars' carefully kept secret existence. The Stars' world was created by myself and @heirmyst. Next post: [ORION'S FINEST] [GATHERER OF GRAIN] [CENTER OF THE WORLD] Word count: 5,201

Waqi climbed the sky higher, relentlessly battling the air with every flap of their wings. As they gained altitude, frost dared to gather on their face. Unfazed, they summoned latent blue fire from within, melting it on immediate impact. 

Good attempt, nature, they thought, smiling into the forceful wind. But only I decide when to stop.

Except even the grandest flights rested on the premise of a zenith… and its aftermath. Finally, air thinned to nothing, and Earth below seemed a faint suggestion of matter. The time had come. Waqi slowed the frenzied movement of their wings.

They took a deep breath, savoring the moment. “Here it comes.”

Then, they let themself fall. 

The air just barely carried the sound they let out, halfway between a laugh and a scream of delight.

This was their favorite part. They would never admit it on the ground, where every part of them itched to fight the atmosphere with their wings and fly, however high the day would let them. Many times, they’d said to other Stars that they’d happily give up immortality if it meant they could fly for the rest of their existence, and the sentiment was barely a joke. But the fall? They lived for it, and the air as they burned their way down was the sweetest they’d ever taste.

Clouds faded into view, gray and rumbling, preparing to unleash a deluge onto Iran. Waqi’s fists heated up, glowing with ready blasts; they could not let this unacceptable weather stand. 

They plunged into the mess. When fog took over their vision, they pivoted sharply, punching at the nearest storm cloud. The lightning crackling inside was no match for Waqi’s own strikes of energy. They cut through the surrounding air in a wide arc, so swiftly that the clouds vanished with a whimper.

“You tried,” Waqi said, laughing to themself as they took off to vanquish the brewing storm from the rest of the sky. 

They moved with instinctive ease when they shed their corporeal form to become a merciless blue lightning bolt. It was less satisfying than punches and blasts, but it killed every threatened storm before it got the chance to materialize, all the while keeping Waqi hidden from any onlooking human’s eyes.

Of course, the tactic traded away precision for raw power. 

They didn’t process hitting the wrong target until the voices rang out. 

“Waqi!” Dhanab yelled, halting the excitement with a start. “What in the skies did you do that for?”

Waqi shifted back into their usual form, steadying their flight with their wings and blinking the scene before them into clarity. Their Star friends Dhanab and Taira hovered in front of them. Dhanab was scrambling to cover her head. Taira had stopped midway through braiding Dhanab’s hair, barely containing laughs. 

Slowly, Waqi turned around. Remnants of lightning floated in empty air, having burned a hole in the white cloud structure around them. They’d destroyed a Star lodging. For the third time that week. And this time, they didn’t get to pretend they were heroically fighting monstrous Hauntings, because this was nothing but a cloud punching spree.

They faced their friends with a sheepish smile. “I’ve interrupted something, I gather?”

“I’d say so, yes,” Taira said lightly, at the same time as Dhanab muttered, “Not the first time.”

“In my defense,” Waqi began. “I had—”

“North Star duties,” the two finished in unison.

Waqi looked away, sighing. There went their excuse. “I don’t suppose you’ll allow me to make it up to you?”

A scheming smirk crept across Dhanab’s face. “Taira?”

“Hm.” Taira stretched and cracked her joints in preparation. “Since you've so kindly offered...”

Waqi had barely enough time to summon a defensive forcefield when Taira shot toward them with unbelievable speed. She tackled them off the cloud’s ledge. Waqi fought to keep their flight steady among her unpredictable movements and countered her every hit. Laughing all the way, they tumbled wherever Taira wished, because as strong as a flier as Waqi was, they only fought the air; Taira held it at her command. 

“Unfair!” Waqi protested, pushing Taira’s voluminous wind blown hair away from their own face. “I’m taking this up with the king!” 

“What’s the matter?” Taira said, between laughs. “Holding back so I’ll be taken off guard by your next move?”

Waqi caught her next punches, holding both of her hands in place with a surge of lightning. They grinned. “You know me too well. This is a tactical liability.” 

She cried out as Waqi seized her hair and flipped her over their head. As soon as they readied their next blast, their arm locked up, illuminating with a silvery blue glow. 

The rest of their body followed. Taira also froze. The two Stars’ descent had been halted by a joy-killing outside force.

“Dhanab!” Waqi yelled to the sky. “It was just going to get good!” 

Taira snorted. “For you, maybe.”

Dhanab swooped gracefully down from above, landing only a few feet below without breaking her telekinetic hold on the other two. Waqi gaped. Were they that close to the ground already? 

“Do you want to let all of Maragha in on the secret?” Dhanab asked, gesturing frantically to the town behind her. 

“Oh, we’re in trouble now?” Taira asked.

“You will be, keeping this up,” Dhanab said. “Two wild winged beasts screaming and clawing at each other is hardly discreet.”

Waqi raised an eyebrow. “And two wild winged beasts suspended in midair by a third, decidedly more stuck-up winged beast… is?” 

Dhanab opened her mouth to argue, then shrugged. “Point taken.” With one wave of her hand, the glow faded, and Waqi and Taira collapsed in a heap on the ground. 

Waqi brushed themself free. Dhanab pointedly looked past them in favor of helping Taira up. Only Taira.

“The disrespect,” Waqi said with mock offense, forcing themself to their feet. “This is how you treat your North Star?”

Dhanab smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t dream of insinuating the North Star could possibly need my help.”

Waqi rolled their eyes and shifted their attention to the sky. At least from here, they could check whether they’d succeeded in averting the storm. They expected to see clear blue conditions, plagued by a few maddening remnants of a storm they happened to miss. Instead they were met with… a sunset. In the distance, the town of Maragha seemed to come alive, suddenly bustling with movement.

“Oh no,” Taira said quietly behind them.

“I know,” they agreed, exasperated, glaring at the accursed observatory on a nearby hill. “Now we’ll have to listen to the evening prayer.”

“I like the sound of the prayer,” Dhanab said quietly.

Taira shook her head. “It isn’t that! The sun set too early.” Oh, Waqi thought. They’d assumed they simply lost track of time once more. “Waqi,” Taira said, all humor gone from her voice. Disoriented by the sudden change in mood, Waqi turned to face her. “This is a whole hour early.”

Dhanab’s eyes widened. “An hour? Did the king tell you anything about this?”

Waqi laughed, but their voice shook with uncertainty. “There you two go, taking everything the sky does so seriously…” 

“Even if we didn’t, the humans would!” Dhanab argued. “Especially here. Their prayer relies on this, you think they won’t look into the situation? And if they look too deep, they’ll find us, and then the secret keepers might tell on us too, and—”

“Dhanab.” Taira wrapped an arm around her. “Slow down. Breathe.” She looked to Waqi for support.

 Their words caught in their throat. Skies above, they had not expected a morale strengthening task today. “I’ll… speak to Sol,” they blurted out, “and get this all sorted! He’ll play some trick of sunlight, hide the irregularity. This kind of thing is easy for him! It will be fine.”

The Star king’s name seemed to put the two at ease. Yes, Sol would fix this, and Waqi would have free reign to make fun of his overly dramatic success speeches to his face afterward. That was how this was supposed to go.

“Before that,” Taira piped up, “maybe we can go and ask director Tusi’s minions what they think is happening.” She tilted head toward the observatory. “To see how much damage we’ll have to undo.”

Waqi made a face at the thought of vanishing their wings. “Go and ask. In the guise of a human?”

“As a man?” Dhanab added, equally offended. “No, thank you.”

Both of them stared at Taira. She sighed, closing her wings and gathering up her long cloudlike tresses. “The usual, I see.”

“Don’t act as if you don’t like it,” Dhanab said.

Taira winked at her. “I let you off the hook only because you’re too beautiful to pass as a man.” 

Dhanab flushed, but got to work on tearing a section of her own outer robes, wrapping it around Taira’s hair as a makeshift turban.

“You could just give over your scarf,” Waqi pointed out.

“Waqi, please!” Dhanab said, scandalized. “I am not going to stay out here uncovered!”

That sounded absolutely ridiculous, but Waqi chose not to argue. They never did see the point in bothering with matters of earthly conduct, when by all means the Stars were meant to live above them all. This is why they could never stomach any task that involved walking among humans. Their status as North Star, Stardom’s first line of defense, would surely get lost among the endless customs and rules that every other little kingdom offered a different version of. Such a life was inconceivable.

Still, they noticed that Dhanab was pointedly trying to avoid being perceived with torn robes. Wordlessly, they walked in such a way to conceal her from any passersby’s view, keeping a low profile as they trailed Taira.

Not that Taira made it particularly easy. 

With a skip in his step, Taira closed in on the observatory hill at a quick pace. Too quick. The other two almost struggled to keep up and stay hidden at the same time.

“What’s his hurry?” Waqi whispered to Dhanab.

“You know Taira,” Dhanab said. “At least he hasn’t resorted to flying. Yet.”

Waqi and Dhanab stopped at a distance, hanging back as Taira went on. He reached the entrance of the central observatory tower, greeting the two workers outside like old friends. One of the men straightened up to receive the new company, while the other remained pointedly occupied perusing an astronomical manual.

“Peace be upon you, brothers!” Taira said. “I could not help noticing that the sun has been down for several counts too far, and I have not heard the call for Maghrib yet.”

“Upon you be peace. I do not know what to tell you, Al-Ta’ir,” the attentive man said, his tone apologetic, as if he was fully ready to take the blame for the heavens breaking an otherwise flawless pattern. “Sirvan and I have been in conversation all day, and we haven’t yet reached an impasse.”

“Forget this pretense, Payam. Tell him like it is!” the other man, Sirvan snapped. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration and, without warning, shoved the manual in Taira’s face. “Look at this!” 

Taira stayed silent for too long. “Yes,” he said, purely to appease the worker. “This is… most irregular.”

“Irregular,” Sirvan said with a bitter laugh. “For all our lives the sky stays constant! Predictable! ‘Study the heavens,’ Tusi tells us, ‘Mark prayers as God commands!’ How were we meant to know the sun can set anytime!”

Waqi rolled their eyes. Humans truly believed their neat tables could map the skies out to the letter. As if the Stars had nothing better to do than move in strict patterns for their convenience. An impulsive lightning blast threatened to break free at their fist. Dhanab touched their hand, stopping it right there.

“I believe I should call out Maghrib now,” Payam said carefully. “The people will be concerned.”

“Concerned?” Sirvan said, baffled. “This is unlike anything we’ve seen!”

Taira wisely saw his exit. “Thank you, brothers,” he said, though Sirvan’s diatribe about the fundamental principles of the sun’s movement drowned it out. “I trust your decision, and eagerly await your call.” Meaningfully, he caught Payam’s eye at the last word.

With that, Taira left the scene as swiftly as he’d arrived, regrouping with Dhanab and Waqi. 

“Overreacting scholars,” Waqi said. “This is probably nothing!” 

Taira ignored them. “Payam is the muazzin. I’ve dropped as many suggestions as it’s appropriate for me to do. I think we’ll be in the clear, if he can get his volatile brother calmed or distracted long enough to call the prayer.”

“I hope he does,” Dhanab said softly.

“That’s all we can do for our coverup on the human side, but we’ll stick around just in case.” Taira turned to Waqi. “The rest is up to you. Ask Sol what’s going on. He’s the only one who can make this seamless.”

Waqi nodded. This, at least, they could do. Leaving their friends at the hill, they crept a safe distance away from wandering townspeople’s eyes. 

Then, they opened their wings and shot off into the early night sky. The air was clear, carrying that sweet tropical taste that came only when the dark settled and—

Focus, they reminded themself, shaking off the intoxication. This flight had to be short, direct. Purely economical. 

They ascended just enough for their head to peek through clouds.

Waqi looked around, and almost didn’t recognize Sol’s home at first. They were so used to the sight of extravagantly piled clouds, reflecting sunlight with infuriating perfection, that they only processed the black clouds in front of them as an incoming weather disaster.

Somewhere on the way to destroying the storm, they realized it floated where their best friend’s home should have been.

“Sol?” Waqi’s voice broke embarrassingly at the call of his name. 

Any moment, the only part of them still clinging to hope insisted. Any moment, Sol would fly out, laugh triumphantly about his incredible unexpected practical joke, and fix everything.

No answer came.

Waqi rammed themself into the mass of black clouds, their mind racing. The structure fell apart pathetically, the only sign of Sol’s brilliant presence being stray plumes of flame. Actual flame. Not the inviting light that always decorated the king’s home. 

Waqi emerged on the other side into empty air. The home being deserted, leaving only storm clouds and flame, and whatever the early sunset was… 

All signs pointed to a struggle. 

Waqi glared at the remnants of black smoke around them with newfound hatred. This was no longer annoying weather. It was the herald of the enemies—assassins—who took Sol away… and after seeing it, Waqi was sitting here, staring into space like an idiot.

They needed to act now. In a flash of blue lightning, they dived, right back to the spot where they left their friends. The grass beneath them caught fire as the shock of the ground returned them to their corporeal form. Before they had time to breathe, someone grabbed their shoulder.

“Careful! You’ll—” Dhanab’s usual chiding stopped short, and her face softened into concern. “What happened?”

Waqi tried to contort their features into something less alarming. Judging by their friends’ confused glances, it did not work.

“What did the king say?” Taira asked. “He didn’t deny the request, did he?”

A laugh, clipped and shaky, escaped Waqi’s throat at the question. “It’s a hard thing even for him, to deny something he hasn’t even heard,” they said. “Something broke into his home. Only storm clouds remain there.”

A shadow passed over the other two’s faces. Taira took a deep breath. “Please don’t tell me…”

“Hauntings?” Dhanab asked, her voice small. It was barely a question. 

“Listen to me,” Waqi said, grasping her hand, suddenly emboldened by their friends’ clear panic. Waqi couldn’t afford to be scared when they had other Stars to worry about. “No one can hear of this. Not until we get to the bottom of it.”

“Waqi,” Taira said. They couldn’t help but flinch. They hated when all playfulness faded from her voice like that. “This isn’t some accidental cabin fire we can just pretend is an act of nature. This is an attempted Haunting assassination, and if those monsters even got to the king, what chance—”

“They didn’t get to him!” Waqi snapped. “It’s Sol! Skies above, will you have some faith? For all we know, he reduced them all to ashes and is just… hunting for a new home. Or better yet, for the assassins’ allies.”

This half of North Star duties, the one which was conquered by words rather than fire, never came naturally to Waqi. Yet, often, they found they could simply speak anything into existence, and if it softened even a single line of worry on a fellow Star’s face, it would do the trick. For better or worse, Waqi held all the cards here. They knew Sol better than anyone; whatever they said about him, the other two had to take it by necessity. 

Waqi needed to take it too. It was all they had.

“You’re right,” Dhanab said, mercifully. “Yes, that must be it!” 

“So, all we do is track him down. It’s the same plan as before… just with this extra step.” They spoke feverishly right as the words came to them. “Taira. Those trails of dark smog from Hauntings are left in the sky for hours after the fact, are they not?”

Taira nodded, a hint of her usual laidback confidence returning to her eyes. “If the monsters escaped—”

“There’s no way in hell Sol would let them go free without pursuit,” Waqi finished. They braced themself for flight. “Lead the way. We’re right behind you.”

And so, the three Stars took to the skies. They cast jokes and idle conversation between themselves like playing balls, masking any unwanted urgency. The premature night hung around them heavily. Even as they followed the sickening, viscous Haunting trail, no one dared to suggest the unspoken; that the king was likely in danger and it may be up to them to save him. Sol was supposed to save them, not the other way around.

You’re fine, Sol, Waqi thought to themself repeatedly, reassuring their own mind and daring their friend to meet the challenge. They need you to be fine. You can give them that much.

Give me that much.

When the trail ended its forward snaking in the sky and dissolved into fog, Taira began to descend and the other two followed. An expansive lake awaited them below. It boiled furiously, despite the cool night, sending warm air towards the Stars.

“Here we are,” Taira whispered. “Now, either the Hauntings show themselves, or Sol comes out… let’s hope we don’t have to do something drastic.”

Waqi strained their eyes to see the lake past the fog. Why was it boiling? “I swear… why can’t we just—”

“Don’t summon a flame,” Dhanab warned, reading their mind. “Wait for it.”

“Wait?” Waqi shot back, incredulous. “For them to—”

Something shot out of the lake. One projectile gave way to several, piercing the silence with the high whistles of Haunting laughter. The fog stopped the Stars from seeing the attack, but they all heard it, and knew the lack of light would not let them dodge. Taira screamed as a Haunting assailant tackled her into the darkness.

“No!” Dhanab instantly moved to follow Taira’s faint white flame. 

Waqi prepared a blast. “Leave it to me!” 

Dhanab blocked their path, taking hold of their shoulders. “I’ve got her. You should look for the king.”

Look for the king. Waqi knew what she meant to say, but they resented the wording anyway. It was far too close to acknowledging the danger they’d so carefully chosen to downplay. Still, she stayed, her gaze lingering on them with clear anxiety. She wouldn’t go without their express order.

“Go,” Waqi told her. “Do… whatever it is you were already going to.”

She smiled, relieved. “North Star duty!” she called out encouragingly, flitting away to Taira’s aid. 

Dropping every precaution about stealth, Waqi lit themself up in a burst of blue flame. The fog lifted. Finally, finally, they could see their attackers, scattered in midair and on the banks of the lake; without the cloak of darkness, the Hauntings carried forms befitting creatures of earth, except far too big, and closer to humans in terms of gait and clarity of disruptive purpose. This assortment of aquatic bait froze in fear at Waqi’s explosion, even the overgrown shrimp that had Dhanab and Taira locked in battle. Waqi relished the look of shock on the monsters’ faces. Clearly, they hadn’t been expecting the North Star. 

Just as quickly, they recovered with shrill battle cries, and the inky fog wafted into the air once more. This time, Waqi was ready.

They shot lightning indiscriminately, warding off the first few human-sized black crustacean Hauntings that leapt up at them. The flame stayed steady all the way, keeping their sight clear throughout every scuffle. The effort of keeping up defenses still remained a liability. They could not take in a single iota of their surroundings if every moment was punctuated by a strike at the relentless Haunting flock.

“Clear me an opening!” Waqi yelled to their friends.

Practically before Waqi finished speaking, it was done. Dhanab seized telekinetic control of the flock’s edges, and Taira sped to take out anyone who dared step into Waqi’s radius. 

With newfound freedom, Waqi began a swift descent… and it allowed them a crucial glance at the mysteriously boiling lake.

A golden light flickered beneath, its glow coloring fire into the angry waters.

Sol.

Waqi didn’t think. They dove headfirst, the fall heating up their every inch. Hauntings cried out, attempted a poorly thought out deflection, but Waqi’s fire now radiated fatally. Just try it now, they dared the assassins. Naturally, not a single one met the challenge.

The saline water greeted them all at once. 

Any numbing power it might have had over Waqi was warded off by the burning field surrounding them. They had bigger concerns.

“You came,” said an unmistakable voice behind them, with a tone of never having expected anything else. “My one and only North Star.”

Waqi turned sharply to look at Sol, relief and frustration warring within them for the chance to guide their response. Neither got the chance, because an ink-black current hit them instead. 

The staggering force threw them back, until they wedged their feet against the lake floor and opened their wings. They summoned a field of energy, protecting them from the onslaught. Waqi stepped forward, fighting the water with all they had, and broke into a run. The Hauntings they rammed into crumpled at the slightest touch of fire. 

Waqi had help down here too. Sol’s pillar of flame, emboldened by the new arrival, burned brighter, working with Waqi’s to purify the waters. When the blackness cleared, the piscine Hauntings that cast the torrent at them instantly skittered away from fear. Good.

At long last, the sunny glow was uninhibited. Every malicious assassin who stood between Waqi and Sol had been vanquished. As for Sol himself, his wings had been folded down and forcibly fastened to a rock formation by the Hauntings’ signature viscous ink. His brilliant golden locks, plumes of flame that had been boiling the lake from underneath, finally settled into soft waves. Despite the tired, sunken shadows beneath his eyes, he beamed at his friend like nothing had happened.

“I take it you have questions,” Sol said, calm as ever.

“Oh, you don't know the half of it. Hold still!” Waqi struck Sol’s restraints with lightning, setting his wings free. Sol stumbled forward from the sudden unshackling, and Waqi moved to steady him. “Do you need a moment?”

Any sign of weakness faded as his eyes flashed with clear offense. “Who in the everloving skies do you think I am?” 

Waqi laughed. There he was. “I was only making sure. Come on!” 

They seized his arm, guiding him to the surface until his wings recovered enough to pull his own weight. Waqi made it to the surface first, taking in the taste of pure wind and then turning to help Sol onto solid ground. A clear night sky shone above them, decorated with stars, free of any fog. The smell of charred flesh and the odd black puddle on the bank were the only signs that Hauntings had even been there.

“Well done,” Sol said, finally allowing Waqi to unclench their muscles. He’d said the word, so the fight was over.

A short distance away, Dhanab stood over Taira, no doubt fussing endlessly over every minor scratch Taira had sustained during her scuffle with the shrimp Haunting. All the while, Taira stared at her, smiling like she’d won something beyond the fight, not making a single move to stop her. Waqi rolled their eyes fondly. Those two could accomplish untold feats exemplifying every Star ideal, and still act afterward more like illicitly close adolescent human girls.

Sol strode toward them. “I see I have you two to thank for this infestation’s defeat.”

Dhanab jumped to attention, rushing to adjust her scarf. “My king! It is… an immeasurable relief to see you again.”

He laughed good naturedly, extending a hand to help Taira to her feet. “Are you alright?”

She took it. “That shrimp was far sturdier than he looked.”

“You must forgive me for the confusion this must have caused,” Sol said, and Waqi made a considerable effort to not bite back in the presence of their friends. “As valiantly as you fought, I never like having to send you all into Haunting territory.”

Taira scoffed. “You didn’t need us, my king. We all saw how you boiled the lake. Waqi told us on the way you were probably destroying them already, and they were right!”

Sol turned to Waqi, an unspoken question in his eyes. Waqi met his eyes meaningfully. Later, they tried to tell him.

Dhanab cleared her throat. “There’s still the matter of… the early sunset,” she said, thankfully changing the subject. “The humans were very shaken up.”

“Ah,” Sol said, glaring at the sky with truly personal resentment. “An unfortunate side effect of my… divergence, after the assassination attempt.” He stood up straighter. “No matter. The irregularities will be smoothed over by next morning. And our North Star here can convey the desired story to the secret keepers.”

“What?” Waqi protested. “Please don’t make me talk to Tusi again! He’s insufferable!”

The other three laughed, because Waqi’s misfortune was the joke that united them all. Some friends, Waqi thought, though they couldn’t stop their smile. 

Taira stretched out her arms. They cracked painfully, sending out sparks, but she pretended not to notice. “Well, that’s taken care of. I should check Maragha’s parameter for any runaways.”

“Absolutely not,” Sol scolded. “Dhanab, get her straight home and make sure she doesn’t set a single wingbeat out until next sunrise. This is an order.”

Already at attention, Dhanab grabbed Taira’s hand and spread her wings. “Yes, my king! Let’s go, Waqi.”

“You two go ahead,” they said, mustering all the cheer they could. “I need to speak with the king.”

It was a common enough request that the two didn’t think twice about. Waqi watched as arm in arm, Dhanab and Taira took off into the sky, chattering between themselves about plans for the next day. 

Once they were sure the two were out of earshot, Waqi punched Sol in the face.

Sol, naturally, barely flinched. “And here I thought you’d be the bigger Star about this,” he said flatly.

Waqi swung another fist, overflowing with everything they’d been holding back. “The bigger Star? You—” They pointed an accusing, lightning infused finger, giving up all pretense of being the unbothered North Star. “—scared the absolute shit out of me, you know that?”

Sol sighed. “Of course. I realize it was not ideal, but—”

“I had to tell them you were fine.” Breathlessly, they laughed, because the absurdity didn’t let them react any other way. “I mean, even after the sunset, I’d seen the state of your home. And I had to look them in the eyes and tell them you weren’t in trouble. And all this time, the Hauntings actually overpowered you, imprisoned you in a fucking lake? They could’ve hurt you, or worse!” 

“They could have done no such thing,” Sol said, so emphatically that it actually gave Waqi pause. “I was in no danger. I knew you’d come.”

“Oh, please…”

Sol took their shoulders and stared them right in the eye. Quietly, with terrifying emphasis, he said, “I let them capture me.” 

Waqi froze, at a loss for words.

“I had no time to decide.” He spoke hurriedly, like he needed to make Waqi understand in the shortest time possible. “The assassins came, and all I could think was, are there others nearby, and will they hurt the other Stars if I don’t act? I allowed my home to be ransacked, and I allowed them the false sense of confidence to imprison me. And… the plan had been to do away with them all once they took me to their base, but…”

“The lake,” Waqi finished. “And the darkness, and the combined force of the flock. Just one of those three at a time you could’ve taken. Not all at once.”

“It did not end me, or even hurt much. It did worse, momentarily weakening me enough that I couldn’t fight back. I counted on you to finish it for me.” Finally taking a breath, he smiled. “And you did.”

Any trace of lingering anger Waqi might have harbored evaporated. They pulled Sol into an embrace, taking great pleasure in the fact that he, eternal king of Stars, melted into it instantly. “You know I always will,” they said, and they meant it. Sol was put on such a pedestal by other Stars, and Waqi knew how thin he was spread because of it. They were the one person he had to fall back on; this was the least they could do. “Still, for the love of the skies, never pull something like this again. Your grand kingly plans are going to be the death of me.”

“But you cannot die.”

“I’m also best friends with a king who believes the basic principles of reality are optional,” they joked, letting go of the hug. “It’s safer to not take anything for granted.”

“That sounds fair,” Sol conceded. “All of this aside, I will ask you… keep the reality of this day between us.”

Waqi nodded. As if they needed to be told. “I’m not your trusted North Star for nothing.” They beat their wings twice and rose, itching to take to a clear sky for the first time that day. “Get up here!” they called down to Sol. 

“To where?” he said with a laugh. “You know what became of my home.”

“Well, fortunately for you, I’m feeling daring today,” they said. “I think it’s about time I rebuild a cloud home, instead of crushing every one I touch.”

[yutoxlab]

Courtesy of @teeny-human's idea

[inkybinkyboink]

oh fellas it's essay writing time you know what that means

[hehosts-moved]

ren’s body count: 670+

[charliethemanticore]

Hi btw being trans does not automatically grant you supernatural understanding of all esoteric trans knowledge. You actually need to put effort into learning or put effort into keeping quiet about things that don't pertain to your specific experience

[nostalgia-tblr]

started another fic D: didn't mean to, but i went to bed and then had to get up and write 1000 words (!!) of a sylki alternate s2 fic. i shall put the plot/idea below to ENTICE and so I don't forget it myself.

it's not a fix-it as such i just kept the S2 look and locations and characters (OB!!!) and there is a different stupid scifi thing that needs fixed (and also no sad ending because fuck that).

instead of time-slipping loki was sent back the TVA at the right time and he's trying to fit in there and thinks sylvie will be mad at him and besides how would he even find her in such a huge expanding multiverse? oh no! he daydreams a lot and has some odd moments like forgetting how he takes his coffee, and seems to in some be mentally connected to sylvie in a weird scifi way.

obviously he doesn't do anything sensible like tell mobius, so he sneaks off to ask OB who knows all about Variant Entanglement, which is like quantum entanglement but with less science and more selfcest. OB explains that ALAS loki and sylvie are currently entangled variants, which is rare and OB is very excited to get to see it happen but also he's annoyed that apparently nobody told loki not to touch himself if he met himself. (...not in a euphemistic way, this time, just you shouldn't touch your own variants or this might happen.)

it's gone a bit comedy which i think would be a nice change from writing ANGST all the time (and i need to switch modes for the Con Artists AU anyway), though there is a bit of angst (Sylvie does not like the TVA, of course, and some kind of shipping angst will happen as well) and i think i will add some weird pornographic shared sex dream thing just for the hell of it. not sure how that will work, probably involves what i like to refer to as "a confusion of pronouns."

i think OB fancies Casey in this, so there's a 'subplot' for you i suppose. i don't know how long this fic would be but the roughly 1200 words i somehow have so far (this includes some dialogues that need to be not just dialogue though) have not yet got to the point of sylvie showing up aside from in the opening scene which is a flash-forward because... eh, it is just is. but it won't be that long, surely? (this is what i said about the 8800 word sifki fic too.)

ANYWAY LOOK, here is a snippet for some idea of the general tone, in which Loki meets OB but in a different way from in S2 (ooh!):

“Ouroboros.” The man on the other side of the desk looks up from his work. “Oh hey, a visitor!” “I’m told you’re the man to see if I have a technical problem,” says Loki. “Who told you that?” “Casey.” Ouroboros looks pleased. “Casey remembers me?”  “Apparently so.” Loki drops the document he brought with him onto the desk. “You wrote ‘Towards a New Theory of Variant Entanglement’, considered by many to be the seminal work on the phenomenon.” When Ouroboros opens his mouth to ask the obvious question, Loki cuts him off by answering; “According to Casey.” “Wow, he really does remember me!“ “Why wouldn’t he?” asks Loki.  “That’s what I always ask myself!” Determined not to be put off by the oddness of his potential saviour, Loki tries to push the conversation in his desired direction. “I need to ask you some questions about this paper,” he says. “Sure! Ask away!” After an awkward pause, Loki admits, “I didn’t understand a word of it.” Ouroboros’s excitement deflates a little. “Oh.”  “But Casey - yes, he does remember you, I think he might be a bit of a fan, actually -” “Oh, wow! That’s -” “- says that the answer I need is in here.” Loki taps his fingers on the work in question. “So I was hoping you could translate this for an interested but woefully underqualified layman. Please.”

[windwardstar]

The time between finishing a chapter and waiting for betas to look over it so I can post it is like the days between christmas and new years where reality doesn't exist and you get to do whatever you want

[bonebrokebuddy]

2 panels done, about 78 more to go ;-; only the speech bubbles & lettering left!

This is a WIP of a dp x dc silver age based on a prompt from my twin @stealingyourbones !

I’ve been storyboarding this comic for months but have procrastinated actually digitalizing it until now as I’m Very new to digital art and much more used to traditional art but it’s slowly getting easier!

I’m just on the intro section currently! I’m trying to keep it as cartoon accurate in both art and script as I possibly can as I want it to feel like something that could be pulled straight from the original show.

Here’s the complete storyboard for the first page:

The intro is meant to be based off a classic early season dp plot of “Skulker has a device to trap Danny but Danny outsmarts Skulker and uses that device against him.” But you’ll have to wait to see the rest >:)

Here’s a sneak peak of a rough draft of a page during the Skulker fight that I had to scrap the paneling from because I couldn’t get the flow of it to work:

I’m still debating whether I update it on a page by page basis or release it all at once so I’ll keep y’all posted for updates!

I still need a name for the comic so feel free to give me suggestions!

[post-futurism]

I went to a local greens rally and unfortunately this will be the first time in my life that I'm not going to vote for a greens candidate even though there is one available.