#who knows where they are or who they've become

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] New character: the old guardian of the Huffman siblings! + LORE and COMICS

Sir. Wallace Kingsman. A retired hitman/boss in his late 80s who's a father figure to the Huffman siblings

He's rather old fashioned and stoic, only ever showing his much softer side towards the two kids, a few other close companions, and nobody else. He's both well-respected and feared by the people who knows him.

His stance on the relationship between the Toons and the Huffman siblings are vague. He does not reveal his true thoughts and feelings, only quietly observing them. However, by the end, he sees that being with the toons makes Gavriel and Grace happy so he chooses to just leave it be.

[Background Info and Comics:] (Warning: Injury, blood, dark topics.)

As little children, the Huffman siblings found Kingsman in the slums when the old gentleman was collapsed due to his injuries from a gunfight nearby.

Gavriel Huffman, accustomed to the violence, planned on leaving the dying man alone, not wanting to take the risk of potentially getting into trouble with his involvement. Grace was able to [hesitantly] change his mind due to her persistent begging to save the old man.

Gavriel Huffman during this time was 16 years old, with Grace Huffman being 7 years old. Both children have no parents and they live on their own, alongside the poor/homeless population of the area they reside in.

After the Huffman siblings saved Sir Kingsman's life, he eventually gets well enough to leave on his own and come back later to repay the kindness that was shown to him by the people of the slums, especially the Huffman siblings.

He takes the Huffman siblings under his wing and raised them as his own where they grew to become elite members of their organization through their unexpected talent and incredible hard work.

The three initially did not consider each other as family, more like friendly acquaintances. However, there were signs of their relationship developing to that route, which accelerated after a particular accident happened.

They only ever referred to each other with formality. This was the first time they've called each other familial terms.

Grace Huffman, upset at having experienced such a harrowing event, swore to become stronger so her old brother doesn't have to get hurt protecting her anymore.

[the-artist-grimm]

Crimson Angel AU - Narinder’s Betrayal

Been editing and working on the AU and changing just what makes Narinder go from being the lamb’s friend to commanding them to sacrifice themself to him after all the Bishops are dead

Originally the idea was more just him not understanding his feelings towards them, then after overhearing part of a conversation about them planning on proposing to someone (not knowing its him) his heartbreak/confusion leads him to think they’re leaving him behind and thus sacrificing them is killing his feelings, but now tying it more into what’s becoming the main theme of the AU-how it’s important to communicate your feelings. (read more cause we got a lot of lore for this one!)

Narinder was imprisoned because he and his siblings didn’t talk to each other. They didn't ask how he felt about being death, and he in turn didn't tell them his frustrations regarding it/their treatment of him for being death.

As the other four’s domains all connected/dealt with life they got closer as the years went on, whilst he in contrast remained the odd one out by being the sole one centered on death. This separation would lead to him feeling isolated and somewhat abandoned, which was furthered as whenever he did see them they would typically be angry at him for ‘taking’ a favorite friend, follower, or lover through death, as the other bishops didn’t understand how Narinder’s powers worked. They saw him as the executioner, when in reality he was merely a judge and shepherd, as mortals die regardless of his involvement. 

Resurrection was his last-ditch effort to please them. His followers became the experimental batch in hopes that he'd be able to perfect it for the real thing. He'd resurrect his siblings' fallen and maybe that'd get them to love him again.

Meanwhile to the bishops, here was the brother who always seemed more content when left alone (Who seemed to dislike the bustle of the mortal realm. To hate the noise of parties. To hurry away the second their group meetings would end. Who they thought preferred his space as he'd never said otherwise) Here he is suddenly gaining mass amounts of followers and they have no idea why or how. So Shamura decides to look into things, but as for the first time Narinder is not letting others enter his domain (as he’s trying to keep his experiments a surprise), they decide to use their future sight.

And the vision they see is only blood on Narinder’s claws as he’s dragged down by chains into the Afterlife, and the wailing of their other siblings. 

So to Shamura, they assume Narinder is planning a betrayal. They cannot even fathom how it came to this, but are too terrified of the idea to ask and hear it confirmed-they don’t want to hear its true, and just skip asking. They just gather the others and convince them that they must enchain him before he has a chance to destroy them. They summon him to their domain with a vague letter, and Narinder, with his now completed ritual notes in hand, eagerly goes thinking here’s his chance to present what he's discovered.

He arrives and at first things seem fine. But then Shamura suddenly deems him a traitor as he approaches-says that they know of his plan, and that his ploy for power ends here. His other siblings appear and restrain him from the shadows, where he accidentally hurts them all while trying to fight back, and then with his notes scattering across the floor he’s dragged down into the Afterlife. 

It’s only after the which Shamura realizes through their pain that their vision just played out with ZERO differences, and they realize their mistake. They didn’t ‘stop’ Narinder, he wasn't even going to hurt them. The others find Narinder’s notes, and all of them now realize what they've begun.

Meanwhile, to Narinder, he thinks his siblings knew of his resurrection plan all along and it still wasn’t enough. He’s trapped in the Afterlife all alone, and right there decides that caring about other people isn’t worth it anymore.  

A thousand years pass and though Narinder’s been softened since the twins came to him, he’s still scared to love again. He’s their master rather than dad because he deems their relationship conditional, they’re dependent on him as he’s the only other person they have, and assumes that were the twins given a choice, they would never choose him. His siblings certainly didn't.

But then the Lamb appears. They’re kind, they ask if he’s in pain, bring him gifts, treat his kits with kindness and bring them gifts too. They show him the world he’s missed through the crown for no reason and it confuses him. He asks what boon they want for this and their only answer is that they just want to see him happy. He's not used to this, and gradually starts to care and gradually starts to hope that maybe, finally, someone will stay. That someone likes him for himself. He becomes their friend, and then falls in love.

When upon ‘accompanying’ them via the crown to the remains of their childhood village on the anniversary of their family’s death, and at hearing the lamb finally break down from survivor's guilt and swear that they’ll free him regardless of the cost to themself, it's when he decides to try love again. And he says no.

The final hidden chain is broken the sacrifice of the devout heart which frees him-that’s what the prophecy said. The lamb doesn't know this, but he does. And what he does tell them is that he either leaves the Afterlife with them by his side or not at all. He'd prolong his imprisonment for them.

But soon after, the lamb starts getting distant. They stop ‘calling’ him at night before bed, they start asking for more privacy. Long talks until they fall asleep stop. They visit and still bring gifts and show him things sure, but something's different, and he doesn’t know what, but it reminds him of something.

Of how his siblings used to visit him too before he was chained. And how they eventually stopped. 

But he tries to ignore it, he’s busy trying to figure out a way to break the chain without killing them, but as Shamura’s death nears one night when the twins are off exploring and he’s all alone he just can’t take it anymore and listens in. He swore to respect the lamb's privacy if signaled for it, but he can't wait anymore, he's alone, stressed, and scared.

The Lamb’s at Ratua’s, the previous bearer of the red crown. The room sounds busy-he can't see anything since the crown’s off and placed facing the wall as per the privacy agreement, but he can hear. There’s chattering and an odd mechanical like sound? Someone sharpening a weapon perhaps, he’s not sure. What he is sure of though, is that someone asks if he suspects anything, and he freezes.

The Lamb, cheerful as ever, says no, and he hears that mechanical sound again so it must be from something they’re doing. Ratau asks if the lamb has told Forneus yet and they reply that they have and she wishes them the best-another former crown bearer who's in on whatever this is. The Lamb says that if all goes to plan then they need Ratau to distract the twins should Forneus be unavailable the night after they’re freed, and that the rest are to make sure no one follows the lamb as they take him for a walk off the grounds. 

Narinder doesn’t stay to hear the rest. He can’t breathe suddenly, and the moment the connection is cut all he can remember is Shamura inviting him to their domain, and the feeling of his siblings forcing him into chains. All he can remember is how badly a heart can break.

What he doesn’t get to hear is the final sound of a loom shuttle flying through wool, then the sound of the Lamb tapping the last threads of a long, beautiful sash into place. Ratau and the others come over, and though they tease the Lamb relentlessly, all Anthea can think of is of their own parents’ sashes-beautifully hand-woven gifts given upon their engagement  to one another which within sheep culture represents’ the gifter’s devotion and oath of commitment to the receiver. That day their god comforted them and declared that they were to be by his side was the day Anthea realized they’d fallen in love, and regardless of the form of love he felt for them, Anthea wanted to give him something to tell both him and themself that they finally wanted to live, and to live with him. 

Narinder doesn’t think to ask the lamb about what he heard because he’s too afraid of the answer, he doesn't even tell the twins what he heard, just lets them think he finally found a way to spare the lamb. It's only when Shamura’s dead and they arrive to, as Anthea puts it, ‘Bring him and the twins home’ that he declares them traitor and commands that they die, says he knows of their plan to usurp power, and refuses to let them win. 

The cycle repeats.

The twins die by trying to use their battles with the lamb to snap him out of it, Narinder falls regardless, and when he awakes on the dais to a furious, heartbroken lamb who's not only hurt by his ignoring of their privacy but also in assuming the worst of them that he realizes his mistake.

It’s easier to assume the worst, than to ask and risk seeing it confirmed. And yet because of that, the reality is realized too late.

[highinmiamiii]

NO FEELINGS - ch. 1

a billy butcher x reader story

years after a wild love in 90s London, Butcher runs into his past flame at that same grimy Nevada steakhouse he’d told Hughie about. Where he’d wanted to go with Len since they were lads. Tension, unspoken history, and unresolved feelings simmer as both grapple with what they've become.

(A/N): this is just a short little vague introduction. feedback is appreciated as always—let me know what you think! and if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just drop a comment. thank you for the support, i cannot wait to get really started on this. prelude chapter set in 90s london soon…

Butcher slid into the worn leather booth of the topless steakhouse, the place he’d told Hughie about. The one he’d always wanted to visit with Lenny. He wasn't sure what drove him here now, maybe the weight of unfinished promises, or the itch of an unfinished life, maybe a celebration for finally having the key to end this all. Kessler—his ever-present darker conscience—sneered from across the table, leaning back like he owned the place.

“Celebratin', are we? Makin’ a toast to not being a dead man... yet?" Kessler’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Maybe crack a cold one open to that virus, eh? Damn good reason to have a drink.”

Butcher ignored him, waving down the waitress instead. The place smelled of grease, burnt meat, and the faint, familiar scent of desperation—Nevada in all its glory. The steakhouse was a dive. Dim lights, gaudy neon signs, waitresses in barely-there outfits serving patrons who barely looked alive. It felt appropriate, a place where he could fade into the noise and booze.

His mind kept drifting back to Lenny, to the promises they made as boys. But Lenny was long gone, and Butcher was still here. Breathing. Existing. Barely.

“What’s the point, mate?” Kessler drawled, a smug grin tugging at his lip. “You’ve come this far, might as well end it on a high note. Wipe ‘em all out—‘every last one’ like ya said, whoever’s left. Ain’t no room for savin’ the day, Billy. That ain’t you.”

Butcher lit a cigarette, ignoring the imaginary weight of Kessler's presence. He hadn’t come to make decisions tonight—he just needed a moment to exist outside the war he was fighting, the war inside himself.

That’s when the waitress appeared. He barely looked up from his drink as she spoke. A raspy, tired voice offered him a menu, but it wasn’t her voice that caught him—it was the ink on her arm.

There, on her inner upper arm, was a faded “Never Mind the Bollocks” tattoo. The same damn Sex Pistols tattoo he’d drunkenly convinced the girl who he’d thought would be the love of his life to get years ago in London.

The memories hit him like a punch in the gut.

🇬🇧 London, 1990s 🇬🇧

They’d met at some dive punk show, a dingy pub filled with misfits, and she had been the loudest voice in the room. She wasn’t British, that much was clear. Her accent, her defiance—everything about her screamed rebellion. She’d saved for years just to get to London, to live the life she’d always dreamed of. But the reality was different. Money was tighter, dreams crumbled under the weight of the city’s indifference, and the romantic notion of freedom faded with every job rejection and overpriced rent.

Butcher had been drawn to her fire—an American girl with grungy style and stubborn resolve. She reminded him of himself. Bold. Fearless. But unlike him, she still had a dream. That dream had kept her going.

They’d spent nights stumbling through the streets of Camden, getting drunk on cheap lager, ranting about the world’s injustices. And then one night, after too many drinks and too many laughs, he’d dragged her to a tattoo parlor.

“Go on then, love, don’t be a priss, get the ink. Bollocks to it,” he’d slurred. And she had. The tattoo was a reminder of their wild nights, of a time when the world felt theirs to conquer.

But then Lenny had died. His world crumbled. Butcher became a ghost of himself. He stopped answering her calls. Stopped showing up. Not because he didn’t love her—but because the weight of grief suffocated any connection he’d had to the world, to her. Seasons faded, savings ran out, friend groups grew apart and suddenly she was back in the states, no sign of his presence or existence in sight but the small reminder of what they had, or rather, what could’ve been, on her left arm.

He looked up at her now, and something in his chest tightened. She didn’t recognize him—not immediately. He looked different. Older. Weathered. And she? She’d aged too, but there was still a flicker of that fire behind her eyes, dulled perhaps, but not gone.

Butcher felt Kessler smirking at him from across the table, his voice low and mocking. “Well, well... Looks like fate’s a real bastard, huh? Fancy seeing her here. What’s next, a reunion? Gonna sweep her off her feet again? You ain’t that guy anymore, Billy. We both know it”

He wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

The waitress set his drink down, her expression neutral, maybe a little bored. But her eyes lingered on him for a second too long. Butcher’s gut twisted. Did she know? Or was it just a flicker of memory, a hint of recognition buried beneath the years?

He offered her a smirk. “Nice ink.”

she cocks her head back, taking a long deep breath, knowing he’s likely noticed by now as much as she didn’t want him to. she’d spent so long trying to erase him from my memory, she felt so foolish for letting myself fall so deeply in love with him all those years ago. she rests her hand on her hip and adjust the very thin white tank top they had her working in, thank god no one had tipped me enough to take it off yet, this place was fucking dehumanizing. even more embarrassing to see butcher here after all these years, she never thought she’d see him again, thought they’d be separated by continent for the rest of time. Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t bite. “Old mistake,” she said, her voice clipped, as if daring him to say more.

“Looks like she remembers,” Kessler snickered in his head.

Butcher leaned back, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. “Aren’t we all just walkin’ mistakes?” He said with a deep sigh.

She didn’t answer, just shot him a look—a look with all the bitter undertones he deserved. But she didn’t say a word, and as she walked away, he could feel the weight of the past settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Last thing she wants is to hear from you again man” Kessler’s voice taunted in his ear.

Maybe. But for the first time in years, Butcher wasn’t sure he wanted to.

She walked away, heart pounding. She knew. God, she knew the moment she saw him. Those goddamn eyes and stupid cocky wide smirk she’d fallen for all those years ago. The snarky demeanor that kept her going until one day he was gone. The way his eyes widened when he saw the tattoo was a dead giveaway, but it was the way he carried himself—the same stoicism, the same haunted look behind those eyes. Billy Butcher, of course. Great.

She’d spent years trying to forget. And now here he was, like some ghost from the past, sitting in the sleaziest steakhouse in Nevada, looking like death warmed over. Part of her wanted to slap him, to scream at him for leaving, for abandoning her without a word after Lenny’s death. But she knew she had gotten too attached. It’d been what, a year together? How dumb of her to think or believe that it would’ve ever been more than a fling. She had to come back to America eventually, they both knew the jig would be up soon, she just hadn’t expected it to end so abruptly.

So instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat, wiped the grimy table next to his, and said nothing.

This wasn’t London. She wasn’t the girl she used to be. She’d been young, stupid, and hopelessly in love. Now she was just... tired. Working for tips in a place that smelled like old beer and regret, serving men who didn’t care enough to look her in the eye. This was what her life had come to. And seeing Butcher again only twisted the knife deeper.

But no. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d hurt her. Not yet. Not ever.

Butcher watched her walk away, a strange heaviness settling over him. The memories of London were sharp, but the reality in front of him was sharper. She’d changed. So had he.

“So what now?” Kessler whispered. “Stick around? See if you can fuck things up again? You’re real good at that, ain’t ya?”

Maybe. But something in him, something deep and stubborn, made him want to stay. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something worse. Whatever it was, Butcher wasn’t leaving Nevada. Not yet.

He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, his eyes following her as she disappeared into the back. Whatever had brought him here tonight—fate, coincidence, or just bad fucking luck—he wasn’t walking away from it.

Not this time.

current tags: @sickforbillybutcher

[genderqueerdykes]

this may not be your wheelhouse and if so feel free to ignore but: do you know how to get past the sense of imposter syndrome wrt being punk? like. i'm punk, have always been will always be, it's objectively not debatable. but i've had to make some very un-punk decisions (ex. getting a degree and a normie job) in order to survive. and i haven't been well enough to do the work out on the streets or go to the venues in a while now. obviously i didn't magically become a poser, i still know the music, history, fashion, theory, etc... but i still kinda feel like a fraud :/ any advice?

you know, that's a pretty good question, actually, because i've noticed in a lot of alternative scenes, people really like to get uppity and make fun of people who are just getting into it, or may be into it for a while and then move on

i noticed it firsthand when i lived with other punks in a house venue. i saw probably hundreds of people filtering in and out of there over the course of months and a lot of conversations were leftist infighting and it just kinda became the same old garbage over and over again. some people have superiority complexes that make them feel "Above" everyone around them because they are counterculture. it can become a bit tiresome

what i would say, is that you cannot make decisions that line up with your beliefs/politics/etc. all the time. anticapitalists still need to make money. punks very well may need an established career in order to survive. people who live in food deserts have to rely on shitty companies in order to get their groceries and necessities. i don't think that makes anyone 'unpunk', fortunately, because despite how much we despise this capitalist hellhole, we can't just magically exist completely outside of it without engaging in every single thing we oppose

there's no reason why a punk can't be 'formally employed', so to speak, because not everyone is capable of living off of donations or running their own shop, selling zines, selling customized clothing, selling things they've grown ethically and organically, and so on. the thing is, is money moves so fast in capitalism that two weeks can easily break you. most people are one missed paycheck away from the worst situation of their life

as long as you actually follow through with what you believe and stand for in the areas where you can, that's what's important. as long as you behave in a way that doesn't oppress others, support your local community, participate in harm reduction events, or whatever your specific focus is on breaking down the structures firmly built around us to divide us, you are very much a punk.

respect for others, standing up for one's self, and other's when possible in situations where remaining peaceful is not an option, unlearning racism, trans/misogyny, transandrophobia, transphobia, lesbophobia, homophobia, intersexism, biphobia, and other queerphobic beliefs, learning to respect demonized and heavily oppressed people such as people of color, homeless people, addicts, people with personality disorders, people with schizophrenia, people with bipolar disorder, people with DID, people with OCD, people with autism, people with ADHD, and other neurodivergent and mentally ill people, and breaking down other internalized oppressive structures in your own mind to prevent perpetuating it, you've achieved your goal

the thing is is not every punk is a master of punk history, most punks are in the scene to meet with like minded people who very well may have other interests outside of the community that take up more of their time. many people don't have the time to read up on literature and zines because they live transient or busy lives. many punks don't listen to entirely punk music, some don't listen to any at all. i don't listen to a lot of music, due to being autistic and easily overwhelmed by sound, myself, so that is an area that i am not super versed in. i have very basic knowledge from sitting around and listening to other punks and their music, but i'm more focused on activism. but that's exactly the thing:

not every punk is an activist, either. you can wade as far as you personally want to into these waters. there are different kinds of punks, for sure, and that's not a bad thing at all. some folks are really passionate about music and want to spread a message that way, but may not have the time to become involved with local activist organizations. some punks are in it for the art. some are in it because they like each others company and personalities. some people like that there are a lot of trans and queer people in general in the scene so they find it a safe place to meet other queer people. some people like the casual atmosphere and ability to do whatever substances they want with other people in a safe environment without judgment, and around other people who have experiences with these substances. some people literally just dress alternative and like hanging out with other people who do and that's not bad, either.

all of these are okay things

as long as you acknowledge where you're at and not pretend to know more than you really do, you'll be fine. ultimately it means lot of things to a lot of different punks and just like any other identity, every punk will describe it slightly differently. i thought i was an outcast because i was the only real activist in that household, most other folks were there to be around like minded people who hate the way out society is run, and that's totally okay. if that's their vibe, that's their vibe. i can't tell them they're not punk, what would be the point of that? they play in and listen to punk bands. i'd be an idiot to tell them they're not really punk, you know?

you are the one who defines what punk looks like for you, as it is your experience. don't worry about someone else bothering you about it unless you've genuinely stepped out of line and said something potentially fascist, racist, queerphobic, etc. be open to genuine criticism but if someone gives you shit for not knowing some obscure detail about punk history it's not worth your time. i literally knew a punk girl who ran an anarchist reading club and she herself didn't read the book and just listened to everyone else talk about it and discerned her opinion from there.

punks come in all kinds- however:

THE ONLY WAY TO NEVER, EVER BE PUNK IS TO BE A NAZI, COP, OR OTHER KIND OF FASCIST. queerphobes, abelists, racists and their enablers aren't welcome either.

that's the main takeaway, if you ask me. i hope that helps, i have imposter syndrome with a few mental health things so i understand, it's a pain in the ass. if you have any more questions feel free to ask!

[tippedarrows]

You know what speaks about Gabriel's character a lot too?

The fact that he was the Holder of the Amulet. Not Soren (the "leader"), not Ellegaard (the "responsible"), and we won't even talk about Magnus or Ivor.

They all agreed on giving the Amulet to Gabriel because he's the only one who everyone trusted.

What we can see through Ep1-4? Magnus and Ellegaard constantly fighting with each other and they both talks about how they didn't won't to visit Soren even though he did sent the invitations! Soren, meanwhile, is somewhat too scared to even greet them both properly, and he's too angry with Ivor.

But! Gabriel tells Jesse "Soren went missing long ago" means he doesn't know where the ginger is. Maybe Soren felt too ashamed writing to Gabriel? Maybe he couldn't look in the eyes to only member of the group who in fact could've been described as a Hero?

And still, in both scenarios Soren is more than happy to see Gabriel, unlike he is with Ellegaard &Magnus. When we choose Gabriel over Petra, first thing first Soren is worrying for Gabriel's state:

"You look terrible!"

"Terribly handsome?" (I love this old man, joking while you're dying oh gosh)

AND if Gabriel has amnesia, Soren is somehow upset and happy because at least now Gabriel doesn't remember what they all didn't, now Gabriel won't feel any shame because of it and he finally be a Hero he deserved to be! (And heartbroken face Soren has when Gabriel hears the truth)

The next fact is that doesn't matter who you choose, Ellegaard or Magnus, if Gabriel is with you, they hug each other without any thoughts. It's been years since they've seen each other and still it feels natural to hug, it feels normal, it feels needed.

And Ivor? Ivor is angry. He's angry because he knows Gabriel can do better. He knows Gabriel has everything he needs to be a Hero. He's brave (didn't run away like Ivor from WitherStorm), quickthinker (gave Amulet to Jesse knowing they will do what needed), willingly puts himself in danger to protect others (he tries to lead the group in the End even when he's sick) and much more! Ivor is angry because he knows Gabriel agreed to lie only because of his devotion to others (he's devoted to Ivor as well, but Ivor is alone and there's three of others). So Ivor comes to Gabriel not because he's the only one to be around people, but because he knows that with Gabriel he has at least a chance to change everything (sadly it didn't work out.)

The fact that Gabriel asks Jesse if he should tell the truth himself is only shows, how good he is! He could've just shut his mouth and no one Would remember about that? But no, he lost a friend because of their lies, and Jesse did as well. So he lets Jesse decide their fate.

Gabriel is the one who hold amulet, because he's the one who'll use it to help, not to hurt.

And when he gives it to Jesse, it means now Jesse is the one who hold the role of "devoted friend". We can see it through other Episodes!

The only reason Gabriel's tells Jesse that heroism stays above friends is because Gabriel doesn't want Jesse to end up in situation like he did. He doesn't want Jesse to become to devoted so he won't see who his friends turns into. Good new for you, Gabe, but his friends actually won't do anything, they're too kind! And you need to sent yours to therapy.

Oh.. oh god, I didn't expect this thing to be that long? I was rambling lol..

YES!!! SO MUCH GABRIEL ANALYSIS!!!! MOREEEEE!!!! I LOVE THSS!!!

[dirtytransmasc]

its so weird thinking about childhood best friends you don't know anymore. like. the girl and her siblings who lived next door for year, who I used to considered my sister, who now looking back on it was probably my first crush ever, who swore we would grow up together, who was only 'visiting' her family for a month, turns out her parents lied to us, I never saw her again. the girls I went to summer to summer camp with every year and now I can barely remember there faces.

like. how are they doing?

I still can't conceptualize that these people who mattered *so* much to me are just... gone... chances are that I will never see them again, especially my best friend who's back in Pakistan, and even if I did, so much time has passed that I would most likely not recognize them even if I did see them.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

sick of this anti-aging obsession. let's go in the opposite direction. i want more characters who are hardened & grizzled & have a face lined with the harrowing tribulations of time--and then halfway through the narrative u find out they're 27

[heteromerous-rhyming]

also the disney promotion just left a bad taste in my mouth. let's be so honest, annabeth's reaction to disney world (esp bc in the show she canonically has not watched a single movie apparently) would probably be confusion and disgust. she strikes me as the type of person to dislike large crowds and none of the attractions would make proper sense to her. disney world is also so heavily commercial and she's lived half her like in camp half-blood, which is a place pretty much untouched by capitalism.

they're not going to do this of course but. if they do mention disney world next season, the only way (imo) they could do it in character is to have annabeth vent about the park. like go, yeah my dad thought i'd love it but he clearly doesn't know my interests. we decided to go home early and ended up talking about architecture during post-wwii reconstruction.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about nora again

[nateserenas]

literally to present the world with a better version of you which could mean facing your future and and forgetting past mistakes or finally settling on a brand new path while they both stare at ticket stubs from a film they saw together (literally they both kept the tickets...) and then they promptly throw away the ticket stubs as though they've just been burnt because they catch themselves doing something terrible - thinking about each other. (literally they both kept the tickets but then absolutely did not think about why they'd kept the tickets, because as if they've reached a point where they'll allow themselves to realise that maybe it's possible for them to enjoy each other's company yet. and then them throwing away the tickets is them being like nope refusing to think about why I kept this it never happened i definitely did not willingly engage in recreational activity with dan humphrey/blair waldorf and then i definitely definitely definitely did not keep the evidence it just didn't happen none of it happened i will not think about it ticket gone means no more thoughts on the matter okay case closed moving on time to go visit serena...)

[depressedraisin]

wondering when The indie rock/pop band for gen z will turn up

[outlying-hyppocrate]

do you ever feel like you're trapped inside of a simulation and that everyone is watching you so whenever you're alone you scream as loudly as you can so they might let you out but they never do and so you're essentially stuck here forever or. is that just me

[homunculus-argument]

More random tropes that I fucking love: Becoming the mask you wore.

Like oh shit, this character who was sent to spy somewhere under a false identity suddenly realises they've started to genuinely become the person they claimed to be? Someone who's been telling the same lies about who they are for so long that they're actually forgetting that the story isn't true? Finding themselves genuinely doing the things they pretend to do in front of people, when they're alone and nobody's watching? Answering to a name that wasn't supposed to be theirs without thinking?

Ooohh-hoh-hoh, you lost track of yourself in pretending to be someone else? You were only supposed to impersonate somebody, a plausible background and a name you came up with on the spot, and now that the people you were supposed to infiltrate have become your true companions? You lost yourself in the game you played, and no you no longer know who you truly are, and where your true loyalties lie? And both sides would mark you a traitor if you came out with the truth. On a scale of one to ten, how bad did you fuck up.

Fuck that is a good trope. Never seen it done badly. Pour that shit on a table and I'll chop it into lines and snort it.

[sweetteaanddragons]

I have been thinking lately about a universe where Bruce Wayne killed the Joker.

I want to be clear here, since there are so many longstanding debates on this topic: I do not think Bruce Wayne should kill the Joker. I have just been wondering what would happen if the circumstances aligned in such a way that he did.

And to be clear on a related, yet slightly different topic: when I say I have been wondering about what if Bruce Wayne killed the Joker, I do not mean as the Batman. I mean Bruce "Brucie" Wayne.

Maybe it's kind of an accident? Like, he definitely did intend to hit the Joker, but he's Brucie right now, so he's trying not to look like he knows what he's doing while still doing enough damage to keep the Joker from killing someone, and meanwhile the Joker makes just the wrong move and -

And here we are. Brucie just killed the Joker.

Bruce's reaction here is one thing; he has his one rule for a reason, he's just broken it, he's determined to turn himself in -

His family's reaction is a whole different story. How does Cass feel about this?

How does Jason? Bruce has killed the Joker, just like he wanted, but it wasn't for him, not really, and -

And meanwhile, this happens in front of, say, a gala full of people, so now all of Gotham gets to react to it too.

Average Gothamite, seeing the words BRUCE WAYNE, JOKER, and KILLED in the same headline: OH, NO.

Average Gothamite, once they've processed the order those words are actually in: . . . I did not have that on this year's bingo card.

The city's most famous mass murderer has just been publicly killed by the city's biggest employer/philanthropist/source of tabloid harmless nonsense! Three days before Brucie was making tabloid headlines by tripping into a fountain and somehow losing his shirt in the process! Two weeks before, the newspaper was running a retrospective on the Wayne murders and what donation Brucie was making to help the families of victims this year! The article mentioned how one of his adopted sons had also tragically become a murder victim!

Now this has happened, and Bruce is having a breakdown over breaking his one rule, and the rest of Gotham just assumes that this is because poor Brucie thinks this somehow makes him like the man who killed his parents. They send a huge outpouring of support his way. This in no way helps Bruce's actual breakdown.

Ninety percent of Gotham is sure Brucie didn't actually mean to kill the Joker, and pretty much a hundred percent of them support him whether he meant to do it or not. No one wants to have anything to do with prosecuting this mess. Bruce is trying to make it as clear as possible that he will fully cooperate with the justice system and meanwhile an entire gala full of people is suddenly acting like they could in no way have possibly witnessed events that took place ten feet in front of their faces. Did Bruce kill the Joker? Is the officer sure? That doesn't seem like him. Maybe the Joker just tripped on his own. Marble floors, you know. Very slippery.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

anyway. wol concept i am trying to decide whether to make two different chars or one. also whether or not to put them in my light party

[foone]

Bad idea: Age gap discourse but in a fantasy land where there's multiple races who have vastly different lifespans and life styles.

Is it wrong for a 27 year old human to date a 140 year old stone elf, considering most stone elves don't get out of diapers till their 30s?

Is it wrong for a 80 year old dwarf to date a two year old fire wisp, when fire wisps only live up to 5 years (between the eruptions) and have memories of their past lives, so in a way they're "born" at age 400,000+? That octogenarian dwarf is way younger than the fire wisp that's only physically younger than some of the socks the dwarf has!

Is it wrong for a chronomancer who was never born to date, well, anyone? They are zero years old and infinity years old and negative one hundred and seventeen years old all at once. They look like an old human, sure, with the long white beard and the wrinkly skin, but as far as anyone can tell, they've always looked like that. We've seen the cave paintings.

Is it wrong for a 30 year old lizardman (that's old in lizardman years) to date a human who is 60 years old in biological years (because of aging spells), 26 years old in lived-experience years, but only 13 years old in calendar years? (ie, they were born 13 years ago, but spent some of that time in sideways timelines, so they've lived more years than have passed in their home timeline?)

Is it wrong for a 12,000 year old dragon date a pile of 400 kobolds when kobolds only live like 10 years on average, but reach full maturity in one year? And if you disagree, can you do anything about it? You do know what happened to the last policeman who tried to arrest a dragon, right? Their city is still smoldering, 50 years later.

Is it wrong for anyone to date the time worm? It's the same age, every year. So the age gap can only intensify. If you start dating the time worm when you're both the same age, when do you break it off because you've become too much older than them?

And most confusing of all... What about the fairies? They could be anything between a thousand and a day old, they would lie about their age either way, and they can look like whatever they want. There's fairies we know for a fact have been around since the founding of The City of Towers, who met the silent mother herself, and also look like they're at most ten years old. Is it wrong to date them, or just really uncomfortable for everyone who sees it? And on the other side there's fairies who are "born" (hatched? They come from plants, I'm not sure what the verb even would be. Seeded? Sprouted, maybe) this week who are already appearing like middle-aged men and dancing with widows in what looks like a scheme to run off with her fortune but they never take the money, because what would a fairy want with worthless metal discs? Maybe fairies have a hive mind or genetic memory or reincarnation with full memories, they'd never tell you or give you a straight (or consistent) answer anyway.

Stonefolk are really the only inter-race dating situation anyone can agree on. They're unthinking & unmoving solid rock during the day, so those hours don't count. Thus their "real age" is a nice even half of their true age. So if you meet a stonefolk who was dug out 30 years ago, watch out: that's a 15 year old, and if you're a 25 year human, that's too young for you, even though their dig-date is five years before your birth-date.

EDIT: 2024/01/12: Changed the name of the Stonefolk