#fare thee well Friend

[delimeful]

show your fangs (2/2)

warnings: illness, past trauma, threats, arguing, injury/blood mention, dehumanizing language from an antagonist, enemies to friends speedrun edition

-

Janus found the encampment at the southern end of his woods, not far from where Virgil and Elli had parted.

It seemed to be a group of mercenaries, going by the metal-and-leather armor and assortment of scars each of them bore. He didn’t obviously didn’t tolerate human bounty hunters in his forest, but they were far enough away from the woods that if he hadn’t been searching, he likely would have dismissed them as another gaggle of normal passerby.

They didn’t seem to have any intention to get closer, either, only ever glancing in that direction with the familiar wariness or disgust that most humans wore while regarding his sanctuary.

Instead, they were moving along at a moderate, steady pace, with all the assuredness of a wolf running down an exhausted deer. Janus recalled the dark shadows underneath Virgil’s eyes, and felt that the comparison was far too apt.

The forest wasn’t what they’d come for.

Janus’s displeasure made the trees’ branches rattle all the same.

He didn’t waste another moment watching them, twisting the space around him and emerging on the far east side of his woods.

Virgil’s pace had been dogged for the past few days, digging his fingers into nooks and crannies as he climbed and hauling himself over steep ledges, never pausing to sit and rest the way Janus had seen many a traveler do.

(At the time, he’d thought it strange, a waste of energy and disregard for self-maintenance. Now, he wished the path had been smoother, the human’s efforts more fruitful; the distance between him and his pursuers seemed far too small.)

Currently, however, his progress seemed to have ground to a halt. He’d moved since the previous evening, but not far. He was only a handful of yards away from the stretch of ground where he’d previously knelt.

The reason was obvious. Even as he sat with his back pressed against a boulder outcrop, eyes closed and head tilted back, his leg was carefully angled so that there wasn’t any pressure put on the back of his calf.

It had been bandaged, at least, though Janus didn’t hold any hope that the makeshift fabric was particularly clean. After all, his shirt had been sacrificed to make them, going by the missing right sleeve. Days of travel tended to leave behind layers of dirt and sweat, and his current clothes had certainly seen better days.

Janus watched him for a few long moments, and then sent a loose, cold breeze that way, rustling his hair and tugging at his clothes in a silent encouragement to keep moving.

Virgil breathed in deeply, and then dragged himself to his feet, his face twisted into a silent grimace all the way up. He glanced over at the woods, gaze once again landing eerily close to where Janus stood, and then began the arduous process of walking along treacherous terrain with an entire limb out of commission.

In light of the situation, it really wasn’t that surprising that he stopped to lean against a heavy rock only a paltry twenty minutes later. It was, unfortunately, still very frustrating to watch. Janus sent another breeze.

They played this game of stop and go for another few hours, Janus peripherally aware of the mercenary party continuing to grow closer, and only when they stopped to camp for the evening did Janus finally relent and stop battering at the human with winds chilled enough to keep him awake and on the move.

He left Virgil to curl up and sleep in peace, following his steps back to do what little he could to make the terrain harsher, less forgiving. Still, even with all his effort, it wasn’t enough to halt the party for anything close to a significant amount of time. They were traveling outside the reign of his forest, his control, and he’d sworn noninterference with human matters.

(The oath had been easy to make, a bitter satisfaction in it. He’d expected it to be just as easy to uphold. He hadn’t imagined anything like this.)

–

When he returned the next morning, unsatisfied with the night’s work, he perhaps made his gale break upon Virgil’s sleeping form a bit too harshly. He repressed a wince at the misplaced anger.

It didn’t end up mattering. The human didn’t stir, not even an inch.

A jolt of electric panic ran down Janus’s spine. He couldn’t see the human’s chest, not all curled up against the stone as he was. Was he breathing?

He stepped up to the edge of his territory, a new sort of alarm spreading through him, but even now he couldn’t shake his suspicion. If he went out there and this was a trap, a long con intended to get his guard down, he could be killed. Along with his own life lost, he’d be leaving the forest undefended, with a group of mercenaries as witness. Spreading the word of a forest full of vulnerable myths would be the least of what they could do.

He should leave the human to his fate. It might even be a sort of mercy, granting him a less painful death. That was something his pursuers surely wouldn’t give him.

Virgil continued to lay there, more motionless than he’d been since first appearing at the forest’s border.

Janus scowled, and stepped carefully past the barrier, his invisibility fading away as he moved past the pines.

If Elli– who had indeed been trekking through the forest with bullheaded determination, asking anyone they saw where they could find the guardian– found their friend like this, the results wouldn’t be pretty. That was the only reason he was checking. It was on behalf of one of his residents.

Besides, there wasn’t much that one human could do to harm him when he was in this form.

(Janus pointedly wasn’t thinking about the few things that one could do.)

He crouched next to the human, his shadow completely enveloping the little figure, and reached out with a cautious hand to prod Virgil onto his back.

At the first touch, his heart jumped. He’d half-expected to meet cold, stiff flesh, but instead found he was practically burning up. He could also feel the chest under his fingertips rising with strained breaths. Still alive.

Alive, and likely suffering from an infected wound.

Janus carefully worked his fingers underneath the human’s back, scooping him into his grip fully with all the gentleness that handling someone so small required. He was well-practiced after decades of handling human-sized myths, but they were also usually a bit more durable.

Virgil was decidedly not, this fact only emphasized by the inflamed skin and weeping pus revealed when Janus pulled back the bandages.

To make matters worse, the wound’s scabbing had dried against the bandages, meaning that pulling it free had caused another fresh wave of bleeding from the long gashes in his calf. The human twitched, the pain finally enough to wake him where being battered by winds and picked up by a giant hadn’t.

Janus forced his face to remain neutral and cold as Virgil’s eyes fluttered open, knowing exactly what the human would see. Even with most of his more monstrous traits tucked away, he still had the pointed ears, slit pupils, and curved fangs long enough to poke past his lips. Those features, combined with the giant form that each guardian was blessed with, were sure to send any human screaming.

How irritating. With a sigh, he curled his hand into more of a cup, intending to pre-emptively prevent any falls from thrashing.

Virgil took a long moment to blink, visibly trying to focus his gaze on his surroundings. Eventually, he seemed to find Janus’s face, more or less.

“H‘lo?” he asked, squinting. “Who…?”

Janus raised an eyebrow; this was possibly the most sedate that he’d seen the human ever. Not the reaction he’d expected. The fever had certainly taken its toll, in a different way than he’d expected. “I am the forest’s guardian.”

Virgil’s face did something, probably an attempt to smooth out into a mask of his own, but only succeeded in going lax enough that every little twitch of emotion was exceedingly easy to read.

Right now, the primary emotion was hurt.

“Not inside,” Virgil replied, and it took Janus a moment to realize it was a promise, rather than a request. “Leaving.”

That was right, the last time he’d been confronted with a myth outside these woods, they’d been trying to kill him. Janus moved his assessment of Virgil’s sedate reaction from ‘weird’ to ‘concerning’.

The human in question tensed, like he was going to try and get up and show Janus that he was, in fact, doing his best to continue away from the woods.

Janus had enough foresight to see how badly that would go, and set two fingers against Virgil’s torso and upper legs, keeping him in place. Jostling that injury by trying to stand would have the human in a world of pain. “I know. You’re not in trouble.”

Virgil’s face pinched slightly in doubt, but he didn’t fight against the hold. He didn’t seem to have the energy to try.

Another moment of hesitation. Janus knew he couldn’t treat the wound like this. Healing was delicate work. He’d have to bring himself to Virgil’s level. Could he?

Virgil didn’t seem concerned with his silence. He curled slightly against Janus’s palm, wrapping an arm around one of the fingers pinning him in place. He was just seeking heat, shivering with the false cold that fevers brought. It didn’t mean he wasn’t scared.

But he was staring up at Janus’s face, still, and there was nothing in that look but idle, hazy curiosity.

Janus hissed lowly to himself, and Virgil’s face went pinched up again as he hissed back, the human version of the sound made even more pathetic by how little force was put into it. Virgil looked confused afterwards, like even he wasn’t sure what point he’d been trying to prove with that.

It wasn’t funny. Janus wasn’t charmed, not by the ridiculous responses or the utter lack of fear.

He wasn’t even fooling himself, at this point. It was his choice that decided whether the human lived or died here, and despite everything, this was one human he didn’t want to watch die.

–

Janus left Virgil briefly to retrieve what he would need to treat him, leaving one glove to insulate the human from the cold stone ground upon seeing how miserably he attempted to cling to Janus’s fingers.

All that was left was to take the form that he hadn’t worn in years. The one that bore the traces of far more memories than his normal guardian one. The one that he needed if he was going to keep Virgil from dying any time soon.

It’s just one human, he told himself, and folded himself down into the shape that had once been his only one, in his life before this sanctuary.

It was like a layer of confidence, of false bravado had been stripped alongside his size. His gait was stiff, his jaw clenched tight, but he forced himself onwards, past the safety of his woods. The only one around to tell on him (to hurt him) was nearly delirious with fever.

He approached with audible steps, which stuttered just the slightest bit as the human turned to face him. He looked undersized in the heap of yellow fabric that Janus had been wearing on a single hand earlier in the day, but from this angle, Janus suspected that the human would actually be taller than him.

Thankfully, for both Janus’s nerves and his own health, the human didn’t attempt to stand up, only staring up at him for a long moment, frozen like a deer in place.

“I’m here to help you,” Janus attempted to reassure, the usual sly silkiness gone from his voice. He’d known this would happen. There was no hiding the scales along his skin or the scars carved into his face. Not in this form.

The moment his voice split the air, though, the tension left Virgil as though it had never been there in the first place. “Y’re back,” he managed, the words coming out sort of lopsided but still legible. He sounded pleasantly surprised, of all things.

(If not his identity, his appearance, what exactly had frightened Virgil about this form? What had made him go still and alarmed when even his giant self hadn’t elicited that sort of reaction?)

Janus blinked, and then shook his head, forcing himself to breach the few meters of distance between them and crouch beside his patient.

Virgil didn’t protest as Janus slowly maneuvered his leg out and into the best position to be treated. He did make a low pained whine as Janus continued the process of peeling the stuck bandages away, but he didn’t lash out or pull away, and the process was eased once Janus had dampened them.

Cleaning the wound was significantly more painful, and this time Virgil did lunge forward, but it was only to grab onto one of Janus’s hands, squeezing it with force as he rode through the pain of the disinfectant.

(Janus continued to wipe away dirt and grime from the wound, pretending that his heart hadn’t skipped a beat in sheer learned terror for a moment there.)

It was a hassle to go through each task one-handed. His grip was borderline-painful. Still, Janus didn’t pull away.

Once the wound had been rewrapped (with clean bandages, this time), all that was left to do was wait for the fever to break. The human could do that on his own. Janus was no longer needed there.

He stared down at the hand gripping his, clinging on firmly even as the human slipped back into sleep after the exhausting ordeal, and sighed a long, dramatic sigh.

There was no harm in sitting here for a while longer.

(He had plenty of memories of gentle touch, of friendly contact. It shouldn’t matter that all of them were from after he’d become a guardian. It shouldn’t matter that in this form, the sensation of a warm hand in his was new and unfamiliar.

It mattered anyways.)

–

When the human woke the next day, his fever had broken. Mercifully, he’d woken before too much of the day had been lost.

He also woke alone.

Janus watched as Virgil climbed blearily to his feet, slow but not nearly as hindered as he’d been before. Watched as he put weight on his injured leg and found that, properly bound and with the application of a little healing water, it didn’t hurt nearly as bad. Watched as he took a moment to stare down at his hand, flexing it open and closed for a moment as though feeling some phantom sensation.

When Virgil set off again, Janus turned away to return to his duties.

The human was healed, and with a blessing set on him that would obscure his trail and make it near-impossible for human trackers to follow, the mercenaries were sure to get frustrated with the tangled, hostile path Janus had so kindly created for them, and they would give up. Virgil would make it past the whole of the forest without trouble.

The problem had been resolved. There wasn’t any need for him to interfere further.

At his side, he kept his own fist clenched.

–

For the next couple of days, Janus forced himself to focus on other tasks, namely requests made of the guardian, of which there was an unending supply.

The only attention he allowed himself to dedicate to the human was a slight awareness in the corner of his mind, tracking his progress as he continued along the perimeter of the woods.

Well. That, and avoiding the repeated requests for a meeting with Elli that other denizens kept passing along to him, often with an unimpressed stare when he completely dodged around the subject.

Ultimately, Elli brought the meeting to him, instead.

Janus was pinged by several of the sanctuary’s residents at once, and he paused only long enough to set aside his current task before slipping between two trees on one side of his forest and emerging from a completely separate set on the other side.

He couldn’t really call it a fight, since one participant was warily backing up, and the other was being forcibly restrained from lunging at them. Still, the intent was clearly there, and against his rules.

“What did you do to him?!” Elli was shouting, voice cracking as they forced it several levels louder than they normally spoke. They’d been lifted clear off the ground by one of the other bystanders, arms pinned to their sides, but this didn’t seem to cool their ire even slightly.

“What’s it to you?” Heidi growled defensively, her hand hovering over the knife strapped to her side.

Virgil’s knife. Ah. Yes, that would do it.

“Tell me!” Elli kicked out futilely, their face twisted up in desolate anger and tears budding at the edge of their eyes. Janus stepped forward before they could reply, his presence immediately drawing the attention of everyone there.

“Curator,” Heidi greeted, already looking frustrated. “This one was not my fault.”

Perhaps normally he would have doubted the claim– she’d started more than her fair share of disputes– but not this time. “I’m aware. You can work out your differences with our new arrival and the company they keep at a later date. Right now, I believe they’re owed a long-overdue conversation with me.”

He held a hand out and Elli didn’t argue as they were lowered back onto their feet upon it. In fact, they hardly even waited for Janus to move them to a more private setting before starting their petition.

They cleared their throat, eyes still red-rimmed. “Curator, th-there’s someone who needs sanctuary from you–,”

“I’m aware of what you want from me,” Janus cut in smoothly, “and I cannot grant your wish.”

“Why not?” Their voice was softer now, but there was still that underlying thread of steel.

“Humans are not granted access to these woods.” That was the simplest way to put it.

“Why not?” Elli repeated, brow now twisted with confusion.

Janus tapped one finger lightly against their leg, the one that had been injured when they’d arrived here at Virgil’s side. “Don’t you already know?”

Elli frowned. “Virgil didn’t do that. He helped me.”

“Do you think you’re the only one here who’s been hurt by humans?” Janus proposed the question without the cutting edge he might have normally given it, and waited for it to sink in before continuing. “Your friend is alive. He’s traversing the edge of the woods, and he’ll be free to continue on as he pleases once he reaches the northern trade path. You can head there and accompany him, or stay here in the sanctuary, but he isn’t welcome.”

The naiad had sagged with relief upon hearing that Virgil was still breathing after all, but Janus’s ultimatum made them shoot him a stung look, so full of betrayal that he had to work to keep his firm expression from slipping.

Elli stepped back, shaking their head in silent condemnation. “Let me down.”

Janus lowered his hand to the ground, and they scurried off as if the touch burned. They turned to face him again before speaking, their head tilted back to maintain eye contact.

“This isn’t the sanctuary we believed in,” they told him, chin lifted up in a stubborn jut. “Not if you’re willing to let good people get hurt because you’re afraid.”

Janus refused to react, still as stone, and Elli left him behind to walk northwards.

‘The sanctuary we believed in.’

What kind of human was Virgil, to hear tales of a forest full of monsters and think of safety?

—

In the end, it was pure luck that he hadn’t been too late.

A flare of magic near the barrier had caught his attention, and he’d followed it curiously, expecting a wary myth testing his magic or signaling for aid.

(He was pointedly ignoring the little voice that told him he could check on Virgil’s process while he was on that side of the woods.)

There hadn’t been a single sign before this moment, no warnings that he could have noted.

Even so, there was no disputing the band of mercenaries that stood before him, visible from the barrier’s edge.

They stood in a loose semicircle, their backs to the woods, surrounding the last person he’d wanted to see there and the only possible person he could have expected. Virgil.

There had clearly already been a fight, and Virgil had just as clearly lost. He was on hands and knees, posture curled in to brace for a blow, and one leg was held up gingerly, as though the wounds on it had been freshly reopened.

Of course they were. He’d been up against five fully armed men, and he didn’t even have a knife.

“… just tell us what we need to know,” the apparent leader was saying in a faux-coaxing tone. He held a glowing wooden trinket in hand, the source of the magic flare up, and Janus cursed his own stupidity. He hadn’t thought bounty hunters would stoop so low as to use enchanted tracking tools, hadn’t accounted for it in his blessing.

The leader stepped closer, impatient with Virgil’s lack of response. “Come now. Everyone can see how quickly your little ‘friend’ abandoned you, and you’re still defending it?”

Virgil muttered something, and when the leader leaned in closer to hear, he lifted his head and spat directly in the man’s face.

The whole group rippled with violent intent, and the leader let out an unamused bark of laughter before backhanding him hard enough that the sound of it echoed. Virgil rocked with the force of the blow and then wavered in place, looking close to passing out.

Janus couldn’t look away. He felt a sharp, icy anger sweep through him, the trees creaking ominously as his temper swelled. Some of the mercenaries glanced over their shoulders at the forest, visibly nervous.

The leader didn’t seem to notice. “We’ll do it the hard way, then. We’ve waited this long, we can stand to keep our patience a little longer, see if a little fresh meat won’t bait out a monster worth our time.” Virgil twitched at that, his breathing going shallow, and the mercenary laughed. He pulled a wicked-looking knife, the edge ridged like a saw blade, designed to hurt. “We might even make a dime off the leftovers if we’re careful. Turns out traitors like you don’t look so different from the monsters on the inside. I’m sure your guts will be convincing enough to scam a few amateurs, at least.”

The wind kicked up sharply, clouds blotting out the sun, his fury creating an unnerving harmony of rustling leaves and hollow whistling, but it was all cosmetic, surface-level. If Janus stayed hidden, it was also all he could do.

But if he went out there, he’d be vulnerable to those mercenaries, to humans that had already proven they had magical tools and were willing to use them.

At the feeling of the breeze through his hair, Virgil lifted his head and locked eyes with Janus, past the barrier, past the veil of invisibility draped over him. His lip was split, one eye swollen and crusting with blood. The other had the unnatural sheen of true sight, the sort of gift Janus had watched humans use to hunt down myths in hiding for ages.

There was no fever haze to obscure the truth this time. Virgil could see right through Janus, all the way down to the paltry, scarred little being he’d been before this forest.

Yet there was no disgust there. No greed. No hatred.

Janus stepped forward despite himself, despite everything.

And Virgil— Virgil’s good eye widened, just slightly, and gave the tiniest shake of the head. The near-unnoticeable motion was belied by the vehemence in his gaze. ‘Don’t come.’

He recognized Janus as the guardian. He believed in the forest’s sanctuary. He wanted to protect it.

The least Janus could do was return the favor.

He let himself fold down into his original form, and dropped his invisibility, looking every bit as vulnerable as he’d been years ago. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

The distraction worked, the men who had been watching the trees warily shouting out in alarm, and for a moment every eye turned to him.

Virgil went tense, seeing the misdirection for what it was, but when he angled his body to run, he did it in the wrong direction.

Really, was it too much to ask that Janus’s abrupt change of heart simply be an understood thing? Must he really communicate it himself?

Without breaking eye contact, Janus lifted his arm and held his hand out, fingers splayed. A beacon. A lifeline. An extension of trust.

Virgil reached back.

He darted past the broken ranks of the mercenaries, his pains ignored in favor of one final fight-or-flight rush, and streaked directly towards the barrier, bolstered by the wind at his back.

Janus could see the fear in him, had witnessed it lingering in this human the entire time, but it was abruptly overshadowed by sheer, dumb courage.

It was in the way he didn’t slow down, already intimately aware of how the barrier’s refusal had felt and forcing himself forward anyhow. The way he believed in that outstretched hand enough to take the chance that this was a trick. To leave the crevice. To give up the knife. To be small, vulnerable.

For the first time, the barrier parted for a human hand. For the second, a hand grabbed on to his.

At some point in the middle there, they both realized that approaching at a dead sprint wasn’t conducive to a graceful collision.

Janus stiffened up for impact, a tactic that worked significantly less well when he wasn’t a giant invulnerable magic forest guardian, and Virgil twisted so that his momentum was sent to the side rather than hitting Janus head-on.

They went spinning, a dizzying series of rotations, and despite Virgil’s best efforts to keep them on their feet, they shortly ended up hitting the ground in a tumble of limbs.

“Ow,” the first human to ever set foot in his forest said plainly.

Janus let out a hysterical giggle, one that he would henceforth deny to the end of his days.

They made eye contact, and Janus realized that their hands were still clasped. Virgil offered him a tentative half-grin, but a moment later his gaze shifted to something behind them, and then he was shuffling to cover as much of Janus as possible with his longer frame.

Janus followed his gaze, finding that half the mercenaries had advanced while the others waited warily behind. One had a crossbow loaded and aimed at them, and another had tested their luck against the barrier and was now clutching a burnt hand to his chest.

The leader stood there, a scowl on his face, knife still in hand. “You think you’re safe there? It won’t be safe for long. No magic is impenetrable.”

“Why bother with all that work?” Janus asked, his lips curling into something self-satisfied. “I can let you in right now, should you truly wish to enter.”

He disentangled himself from Virgil, who protested and attempted to follow him to his feet with no success. He was clearly feeling the effect of moving so much while injured. That was fine. Janus could stand and face their opponents for the both of them.

“Oh, but…,” he tapped a finger against his lips thoughtfully. “I should greet you properly, first.”

Between one moment and the next, he was once again towering over everyone there, as vast and implacable as the mountain and its grove. He crouched over Virgil, placing his hands on either side of where the human sat and leaning on them, a show of faux-casualness.

“As the guardian of the forest, it would only be fair to return any intentions you have towards its inhabitants. What was it they said?” He directed the question down to Virgil. “That they wanted to provide fresh meat for those who live in my woods?”

There was a pause, and for a moment Janus worried he’d miscalculated, that this was too much, and then–

“I’m pretty sure they were saying that human organs are pretty valuable if you hand them over to the right people,” Virgil mused, lips tugged up into a smirk. He leaned back against Janus’s wrist, happy to play into the act. “I wonder how many they have between the group of them?”

“We could certainly find out,” Janus practically purred, and what little color remained in the mercenaries' faces drained away. “Please, do come in.”

He moved, the slightest shifting of weight forward, and two of the mercenaries turned and bolted, bravado visibly snapping. The rest, abandoned by their greater numbers and outclassed in every other way, were soon to follow.

Once they were out of sight, Virgil burst out laughing, a hoarse chuckle that immediately cut off with a wince as he jostled his wounds.

“For goodness’s sake,” Janus frowned at the fool, shifting back to give him space but keeping his wrist still to support his weight. “Haven’t you re-opened enough wounds?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, staying right where he was. “Hey, it wasn’t my idea to get the crap beat out of me by a bunch of assholes. Give the credit where it’s due.”

“If they ever show their faces here again, I certainly plan to,” Janus replied, voice saccharine. He then paused for a moment before slowly curling a hand around where Virgil sat. “We should get you treated.”

The human blinked up at him as well as he could with one black eye. “What, I’m… I’m staying? This wasn’t just a one-time, scheme-based entry?”

His tone was forcibly kept light, but Janus could see the badly-hidden hope in his posture.

“You’re staying,” he replied, as trustworthy as he could manage. “If you want. I’ll warn you now, the others may take a while to… adjust.”

Virgil cracked a grin, shrugging slightly as Janus’s fingers moved to support his back. “Hey, between you and the lady who stole my knife, I’ve convinced two out of two people not to murder me so far. My streak could continue.”

“Nobody will be murdering you on my watch,” Janus told him, and then tried to distract from the utter soppiness of that statement by lifting Virgil up. “Besides, you haven’t even accounted for your greatest proponent.”

Virgil shuffled, getting comfortable in Janus’s grip, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Janus said, turning to set off to where he could feel a stubborn presence hiking up the mountain. “I''m certain Elli will be more than willing to counter anyone that wants to trouble you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Virgil brighten at the mere mention of his friend, and knew that he’d made the right decision after all.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #sanders sides #ts janus #ts virgil #platonic anxceit #enemies to friends speedrun #my writing #writing #syf #show your fangs #g/t #im pretty fond of this one actually ngl #ok going back offline fare thee well

[datastate]

I MENAT TO MOCK YOU YET YOU TAKE IT WITH PRIDE

JOKES ON YOU! I LOOK LIKE THIS ↓↓↓

#FARE THEE WELL AND THINE CLASSES FORSWORN #ask #siblings #friends #kidfoundonstreets

[krispyweiss]

Dead & Company: It’s (Probably) All Over Now

It’s all over now.

Probably.

Dead & Company played the final show on their Final Tour last night (June 16) in San Francisco, concluding a short, totally weird trip that found John Mayer playing the role of Jerry Garcia & Bill Kreutzmann refusing to play the final act - just as he’d declined to participate in the first, post-Garcia act, the Other Ones, back in the late 20th century.

Sound Bites used to love the Grateful Dead - still does - but merely liked Dead & Company, the surprise heir to Fare Thee Well that was playing gigs less than six months after the Core Four’s final sendoff in Chicago in 2015.

Let’s be honest - it’s the best policy & all - Dead & Company weren’t very good at the beginning & were still sometimes not good as time rolled along. In fact, the band’s 2021 show in Cincinnati on Mickey Hart’s 78th birthday rivaled the lamest RatDog gigs in terms of low energy, plodding arrangements & horrific vocals.

Thankfully, things were much improved in 2022 & ’23, when Sound Bites witnessed what turned out to be three of his favorite Dead & Company shows - two at Rouff (pronounced “Deer Creek”) in rural Indianapolis & another at Star Lake in suburban Pittsburgh. (Cincy ’23 was merely quite good).

So, the bus came by & Sound Bites got off at Deer Creek. & seeings as it was the best Dead & Company show he ever saw, the ending was just exactly perfect.

The blog made sure to interact with the faces sitting around him & kept his eyes peeled for the kinds of things one sees only when former members of the Grateful Dead play concerts at this scale. For Sound Bites will never witness such things again & he was grateful to know it going in, unlike, say, in 1994, when the blog saw the Grateful Dead for the last time having no idea the golden road to unlimited devotion ended at Buckeye Lake.

So here was are, 38 years & some 250 Grateful Dead, Jerry Garcia Band, Weir & Wasserman, Phil Lesh & Friends, Tom Constanten, RatDog, Rhythm Devils, Mickey Hart Band, the Other Ones/the Dead, Fare Thee Well, Campfire Band, Wolf Bros & Dead & Company shows later. There will likely be more family-style shows going forward as long as the Dead men are living, but the end of Dead & Company’s touring life marks the end of a long chapter that spans more than two-thirds of Sound Bites’ existence.

& he’s OK with getting off the bus at Deer Creek.

He’s happier still he got off at Deer Creek.

7/17/23

#dead & company #grateful dead #bob weir #mickey hart #bill kreutzmann #jay lane #john mayer #jeff chimenti #oteil burbridge #phil lesh & friends #the other ones #the dead #ratdog #bob weir & wolf bros #fare thee well #jerry garcia band

[reticent-writer]

Hiii, can you please write another fic about a teenage reader (16-18) and anybody from hazbin hotel. It can be about anything

HEloooo

Alastor x teen reader platonic

Headcannon by @ghostly-one: "During Alastor's absence, Reader went to the overlord meetings in his place"

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

*knock knock knock*

You heard as you groaned and pushed your head up from your pillow.

"It's me, Y/n." You could hear the radio static through your door, "I have an errand to run and would like for you to join me."

"I'll be down in a minute." You replied as you started to get up.

------

"Oh, boy whats the plan, boss?"

"I like your suits."

"What are the antlers for?"

"Can I touch your ~staff thing~?"

"Are those your ears? or is it your hair? I can't tell."

The egg boiz were annoying the fuck outta you and Alastor. If you knew they would've tagged along, you wouldn't have come even if you were going to an overlord meeting.

"Hark Alastor, Y/n. How fare thee this day." Zestial appeared from nowhere in front of the both of you.

"Good evening Zestial, It's nice to see you again." You greeted with a smile as Alastor quickly threatened the eggs.

"Greetings Zestial." Alastor said as the sinners around you three started to take notice and run.

"Ah, the weather doth become this fine day."

"Indeed. Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon."

"If our luck doth hold! I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence. Y/n hast been in thy lodging since thee've been gone." Zestial looked to you with a pleased expression as he patted your shoulder before continuing his conversation with Alastor.

"Some hath spun wild tales of you falling into... Holy arms."

"Hahaha Oh, I just took a well-earned sabbatical. Nothing serious. Though it's fun to keep everyone of their toes."

"There too hath been rumour of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy. TELL ME, how does thou fall in such folly." Zestial would've creeped you out if you weren't used to his (and Alastor's) over-the-top and old-timey ways.

"That is more me to know. But please do guess. I'd love to know the theories."

"T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm."

"Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment."

The three of you made it the the building where the meeting would be taking place as you and Zestial stepped into the elevator you waiting for Alastor to tell the eggs to wait for him before pressing the button.

-------

You sat in between Alastor and one of Carmilla's daughters.

"Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of out city. Together you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule. We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interest." Carmilla said matter-of-factly. "Zestial, so good to see you, my friend."

"Enchanted as always Carmilla." He said as he sipped his tea.

Carmilla was about to look around the room when she spotted Alastor. The face that she made nearly made you laugh.

"Alastor?"

"Yes, I know I've been absent some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering." Alastor spoke like he'd been waiting 7 years just to say that.

"Not really. But welcome back in any case." She dismissed him. You could hear the static abruptly stop and had to bite your lip so you wouldn't laugh.

Once the meeting started you zoned out staring at the wall. To be honest you didn't really care about the meetings you were only there to show your face and now that Alastor is back it gave you less of a reason to care, but interesting things did happen quite often.

Like Velvette wanting a war with the exterminators.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

Zestial translation: It would be much more foolish to think that I understand how your mind works, Alastor. You have always been a mystery to me ever since you came into this world. (just thought it would be nice to add this.)

@ghostly-one

This is choppy and rushed but parade season is starting soon and I have a lot of performances before then too.

#child reader #x child reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #platonic #male reader #female reader #gn reader #reticent writes #reticent writer

[normansnt]

The real him

(Alastor x male overlord!reader)

No warnings my loves

Perhaps some grammatical errors🥹

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Alastor was walking down the street to attend the overlords meeting that was taking place today. He has been absent for quite some time so he has not been to one in a while, and honestly he was kind of excited to go again. Not because he cared so much about what they had to say oh no, of course it was useful information for his plan but the one true reason he went was not something, it was someone.

You.

The overlord of music. Since he was the radio demon and you were the music demon you naturally had something to do with each other. Not to mention it just so happened that you both liked jazz that was a first bonding point.

The moment you became an overlord and turned up on one of the meetings Alastor was delighted by you. You were younger than most of them around the age of the Vees however you are very respectful towards the elder overlords. And even though you were one of the strongest ones you were not egoistic at all. If anything Alastor would call you quite humble. You had a happy air around you similar to Charlie, but he could see the smartness and cunningness underneath. For anyone else you just seemed like any happy go lucky idiot in hell but Alastor knew better. He knew that you could not have become an overlord without brains, all though the Vees achieved it. It only took him one conversation with you to know that sly brain of yours which was probably one of the smartest in the room, despite your young age.

Before he left hell it has become a habit that you two sat down for a coffee after meetings and you could talk for hours, one of your favorite activities was playing chess together.

To put it short. Alastor absolutely adored you, and loved spending time with you. The only thing that made him feel even a little bit sad when he left was the thought of not seeing you for a long time.

"Alastor, how fare thee, this way"

Alastor was too caught up in his daydreams about you to notice the tall figure appearing before him.

"Greetings, Zestial" he looked at the overlord while they made their way to the meeting.

"Ah, the weather, doth become this fine day."

"Indeed, looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon!"

"If our luck doth hold! I do revel in the screams. How art thou?It has been an age since thou hath graced us thy presence. Some hath spun wild tales of you falling to...holy arms."

"Oh, I just took a well-earned sabbatical, nothing serious. Though it's fun to keep everyone on their toes!" Laughed Alastor

"Quite intriguing, Some of us did miss thee more than others" smiled Zestial mysteriously.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Asked back Alastor his smile never wavering.

"Thee knoweth what I mean a certain youngster did miss thy presence gravely"

"(Y/N)?"

"Indeed"

To this Alastor's smile lessened just the littlest bit, barely seeable to naked eye truly. He was not pleased that he caused you sadness. All though deep down in his cold dead heart a spark of warmth emerged to the thought that you missed him.

"Well than shall we proceed" said Zestial at last.

--------------------------------------------------------------

When Alastor and Zestial arrived at the meeting he was disappointed to notice that you were no where to be seen. Nonetheless he took his seat, hoping that you will turn up since you do have a habit of losing track of time.

So the meeting began, Alastor sat next to Rosie a charming Women overlord of the cannibal town also a good friend of yours and Alastor.

"Ahhh Alastor such a pleasure to see you again, someone has become quite broody without you here." The powerful women finished her sentence with a cheeky grin.

"Yes it has been brought to my attention as well however I do not see the culprit here anywhere."

"Ohh you know the clumsy, he is always late."

About 10 minutes after the meeting began Velvette bursted through the door throwing the head of an exorcist of the table, and you walked in calmly behind her.

"Must you make such an entrance, and oh look at that now you got blood all over the table you could do it less flashy you know" you said looking at the media demon.

"I'm sorry for being late Velvette here was holding me up" you said rolling your eyes while she stuck her middle finger in your face.

"Anyways what are we-" you stopped talking when you saw Alastor. Your face broke out in a grin which you quickly tried to cover up with a cough and took your place besides Rosie.

"It's quite all right (Y/N) we know how...annoying the Vees can be" said Carmilla smiling at you slightly. You had a friendly relationship with most every overlord, even the Vees all though that was more professional.

After that you had trouble focusing, all you could think about was what you would say to Alastor after the meeting.

When Velvette jumped unto the table and started very disrespectfully yelling at Zestial and Carmilla you wanted to step in but Rosie put her hand on yours shaking her head slightly.

Alastor chuckled, a real hearty quet chuckle not a mocking one. He has always adored the way you like to stand up for people. He often wondered how you ended up in hell. Now he knows of course, your coffee 'dates' have turned quite deep sometimes, thus you are pretty much the only person who knows him. Not his grin he always wears, not his charmingly sick personality, him.

After the rather quick meeting you waited for Alastor outside of the meeting room. You were quite nervous you have not seen him in 7 years.

When Alastor saw you waiting outside he walked over. You waited till the other overlords have left the scene and the moment you could not see any of them anymore you jumped into Alastors arms.

Now, Alastor did not like physical touch. But this was already a routine for you too. Since you are a very touchy person and he does not like it at all you started off slow. Putting your hand on his shoulder as greeting and goodbye. Than patting his back and this way you guys slowly went up to a point where he was comfortable with hugging you. And now he loves it. But only if its you.

"(Y/N)...I've heard you missed me."he stated while smiling, not grinning, smiling at you.

"Weelll, I mean its no secret that you are my favorite there" you smiled shyly

"Only there?" He asked smiling egoistically exactly knowing your answer.

"All right, all right mr.bigshot however that doesn't explain why you were gone for 7 years without telling me where you were?"

You might be happy to see him now but that doesn't change the fact that he hurt you when he left without telling you.

His smile faltered a bit

He took your hand and next thing you know is you guys ended up in his room in the Hazbin Hotel.

Now he could let the smile go. All though a soft one remained on his lips.

"Everything in its time my dear"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SALUTATIONS, GOOD TO BE BACK ON THE AIR

YES I KNOW ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE SOMEONE WITH STYLE-

Ok I'll stop

You see...I WATCHED HAZBIN HOTEL AND ITS AN OBSESSION THE SONGS, THE ART, THE CHARACTERS AAAAAHHHGSHHSGJSGS ITS SOOOOOOOOOO GOOOOOOOD

I already have at least 5 more fics in my notes just waiting to be published but I might wait with those cuz I really have to proof read them cuz when I type fast (like when I have too many ideas in my head cuz I have a new hyperfixation) I make the stupidest ass mistakes😭

SOOOO ANYWAAAHYYSSSS

Thank you so much for reading ladies, gentleman and other, good afternoon good evening and good night🧡🦖

#hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #alastor x male reader #alastor x reader

[burningvelvet]

Why Mr. Rochester and Bertha Mason Couldn't Get a Legal Separation; or, the Utter Madness of Marital Laws

So I saw a Jane Eyre post discussing why Mr. Rochester and Bertha Mason couldn't get a legal marital separation. I've thought a lot about this topic, and in order to procrastinate writing the final for my upper-level Brontë class, I've decided to write this sort of convoluted analysis instead. I know many others have written about this subject, but I wanted to explore a bit further on my own.

Preliminary context about me, the Brontës, their Byronic inspiration, etc.: I've learned a lot about 19th century British marriage laws recently in my classes on old British literature, as well as by having studied Byron, whose marital separation in 1816 was a notorious part of his history & also reverberated through 19c literature. He refers to this separation in many of his works, most famously in his notorious poem "Fare Thee Well." Harriet Beecher Stowe, the most famous American female writer at the time, was friends with Lady Byron and wrote a book defending her called "Lady Byron Vindicated: A history of the Byron controversy from its beginning in 1816 to the present time" (the original callout post).

Insanity accusations did factor in to Byron's separation. Many scholars have remarked how the Queens of Byronic Criticism, the Brontë sisters, took significant inspiration from their well-worn copy of Moore's biography Life of Byron when creating their works. The Brontës would have been very familiar with marriage laws not only due to their knowledge of Byron's trainwreck of a marriage, but also due to being well-educated women at the time who knew that marriage was the most important economic decision of one's life and could very well make or break a person. As a result, marriage plays a significant role in their novels.

More relevant preliminary context about the novel: Jane Eyre actually takes place in the Georgian era, despite most adaptations and anaysis presenting is as a Victorian piece due to the novels publication date (this drives me crazy; same goes for the other Brontë books). Marriage laws did not change drastically from the time the novel is set to the time Brontë was writing the novel, but things were a bit different socially. Rochester was also married 15 years before his attempt to marry Jane. According to this very good analysis, Rochester and Bertha probably married in or around the year 1793: https://jane-eyre.guidesite.co.uk/timeline.

Now, here are the reasons why Rochester couldn't separate from Bertha:

1) Insanity wasn't grounds for divorce/separation in the Regency era.

Rochester himself says that he couldn't legally separate from her because of her insanity, which presumably rendered any of her faults null on the grounds of that marital vow "in sickness and in health." This is possibly one of his biggest reasons:

"I was rich enough now – yet poor to hideous indigence: a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw, was associated with mine, and called by the law and by society a part of me. And I could not rid myself of it by any legal procedings: for the doctors now discovered that my wife was mad — her excesses had prematurely developed the germs of insanity [..]"

2) Divorce was nearly impossible anyway.

There had only been around 300 divorces in English history at the time. Almost all of them were husbands divorcing their wives for committing adultery. Only a handful of divorces had succesfully been obtained by women, and they were only in cases where the husband had committed incestuous adultery or bigamy, and was extremely physically cruel. So technically after his bigamy attempt, Bertha may have had more grounds to obtain a divorce than Rochester would have, if only she were lucid enough to do so. However, in that scenario infertility would have helped their case, and Adèle's existence would have harmed their case if he attempted to seek a divorce before marrying Jane. Though as the novel explains, Adèle is probably not his, she definitely would have been used against him, as would the fact that he kept Bertha's existence a secret in England. But he wouldn't have tried for divorce that late in the game anyway, considering it was one of the most difficult options.

3) Female adultery was your best bet at divorce or separation, and this probably wasn't applicable to Mr. & Mrs. Rochester.

Although some scholars claim that there is subtext hinting that Bertha was adulterous (which some adaptations, like the 2006, include), you needed substantial proof of the adultery, which Rochester may not have had if it did occur. Being a proud man, he also wouldn't have wanted to be humiliated in that way by letting it be publicly known (as shame is one of his main reasons for hiding their marriage to begin with).

However, I lean toward the idea that Bertha may not have committed adultery. If she definitively did, seeing how affected Rochester was by Céline cheating on him (he shot her lover in revenge and left her with a stipend), if he ever suspected adultery on Bertha's part then I'm sure he would have been at court the very next day. I also think Rochester tries not to be too much of a hypocrite, and he is well aware that he himself is an adulterer, so he probably doesn't want to accuse Bertha of a crime he's committed and which he couldn't definitively prove she did.

Rochester does talk about hating Bertha's "vices" when they lived together, citing drinking, arguing, cruelty to servants, cursing, her being "unchaste," a "harlot," etc. - the last epithets, combined with her supposed lack of morality, and her being described as seductive, heavily imply that adultery could be added to her list of offenses. However, if she did truly cheat on him as well, I don't see why he wouldn't plainly tell this to Jane as well. I would imagine it would be his first complaint, and it would probably be considered his most justifiable reason against her by their cultural standards.

I don't see why he wouldn't jump to take Bertha's infidelity as an opportunity to defend his own actions, considering how open he is with Jane about his own adultery and being cheated on by Cèline Varens. While I can see how some of the textual evidence may strongly suggest Bertha's adultery, we cannot be fully certain, and that may be because Rochester himself is not fully certain. I cannot see why he wouldn't have sought legal advice on that account alone.

In short, if Bertha was an adulterer, there must have been no evidence to convict her.

Also: while the double-standard may seem odd and trivial to us, the reason why female adultery held more weight than male adultery has entirely to due with old patriarchal inheritance laws; i.e the risk of a wife getting extramaritally pregnant and passing the illegitimate child off as her husband's heir was considered too great of an affront. A man could have as many bastards as he wanted because he would know they were bastards and were not at risk of inheriting his stuff. One needed legitimate heirs to justify passing on one's ancestral wealth to. Essentially, marriage was a mere economic tool, and the economy was and is inherently patriarchal. I digress.

4) Rochester's lack of social & economic leverage, and risk of social ruin in general.

Only the wealthiest of the wealthy could obtain divorce or official separation, and it often led to social ruin. Rochester is rich, but he has no title and no great network of supporters due to being a younger son and having been abroad for most of the past 15 years (this was the length of his marriage to Bertha, stated by Mr. Briggs during the bigamous wedding attempt). He doesn't have as much leverage as Lord and Lady Byron had.

To continue on official separation, like Lady and Lord Byron obtained. Just like divorce, this was also a messy and scandalous legal proceeding, and required numerous good reasons to obtain, and being well-connected Lords and Ladies really helped your case. You also needed many witnesses and written statements as evidence. Bertha's family, as we see with Mason, would have been unhelpful to Rochester, and due to his shame and secrecy, no one could really testify on his behalf I'm assuming.

5) Unofficial separation would have been inconvenient, especially in regards to living situations.

Aside from divorce, which was extremely rare, extremely controversial, and only for the wealthiest members of society — there were unofficial and official separations. An unofficial separation was simply living apart from one another. I've often wondered why Rochester didn't simply move Grace Poole and Bertha somewhere else, but my main theory is that it would have been cost ineffective, and due to his family who were implied to be shitty, he probably really didn't want to live at Thornfield anyway so thought it would be convenient to place her there. Rochester says it would be dangerous to place her in his other residence of Ferndean:

"[..] though I possess an old house, Ferndean Manor, even more retired and hidden than this, where I could have lodged her safely enough, had not a scruple about the unhealthiness of the situation, in the heart of a wood, made my conscience recoil from the arrangement. Probably those damp walls would soon have eased me of her charge: but to each villain his own vice; and mine is not a tendency to indirect assassination, even of what I most hate."

6) Annulment was likely impossible given their circumstances.

Annulment means evaporating the marriage, acting as if it never existed, that it was a mistake. This was rare and only granted in unique circumstances, and I believe it was more common with aristocracy and royals. I believe you could possibly get an annulment if you could prove that the spouse was insane at the time of the wedding and you did not know. However, Bertha did not begin to truly deteriorate until after they had been living together for a bit. And while Rochester says that he did not know her mother was in an asylum until after the wedding, having an insane mother doesn't mean that you are insane, which Bertha clearly wasn't at that point, at least not in a way that people would have publicly acknowledged, since Rochester says she attended parties and her hand was highly sought after.

Generally, the longer a marriage had gone on, the harder it was to prove why it could not go on. Rochester says that he and Bertha "lived together" for "four years" in Jamaica while her condition deteriorated and he tried to make things work. And again, after the wedding he found out her mother was "mad, and shut up in a lunatic asylum." So we have more reasons for Rochester's difficulty: the fear of Bertha going to an asylum while she was still mostly lucid in those first four years, combined with the fact that they openly lived together and certainly must have consummated their marriage (things which would further prevent annulment), and were certainly publicly recognized as a couple in Spanish Town society, and her family wanting the marriage to continue so she could have children of "good race" i.e. to produce heirs.

Here's an important passage that to me suggests that Rochester and Bertha not only had an initial flirtation but likely consummated their marriage, likely had a passionate sexual relationship for some time, and likely implies his feelings for her were more complex than we'd initially assume, making annulment not so clear-cut of an option to him at the time:

"My father said nothing about her money; but he told me Miss Mason was the boast of Spanish Town for her beauty: and this was no lie. I found her a fine woman, in the style of Blanche Ingram; tall, dark, and majestic. Her family wished to secure me because I was of a good race; and so did she. They showed her to me in parties, splendidly dressed. I seldom saw her alone, and had very little private conversation with her. She flattered me, and lavishly displayed for my pleasure her charms and accomplishments. All the men in her circle seemed to admire her and envy me. I was dazzled, stimulated: my senses were excited; and being ignorant, raw, and inexperienced, I thought I loved her. There is no folly so besotted that the idiotic rivalries of society, the prurience, the rashness, the blindness of youth, will not hurry a man to its commission. Her relatives encouraged me; competitors piqued me; she allured me: a marriage was achieved almost before I knew where I was. Oh, I have no respect for myself when I think of that act! — an agony of inward contempt masters me. I never loved, I never esteemed, I did not even know her."

7) Spousal abandonment wasn't possible, and on some level he honored his legal and financial obligations to her and the Mason family.

Bertha's family likely refused to house her for legal and personal reasons, and spousal abandonment was forbidden due to the husband's financial responsibility as well as the law of coverture (a wife became her husband's full legal responsibility; some say "property"). Like we see in Anne's Tenant of Wildfell Hall, if a woman ran away from their spouse they would have to live in obscurity and be at risk of being sussed out. You couldn't just abandon your partner. Still, people did, because it was the easiest route to take.

But the more upper-class you were, and the more financial entanglements you had, the more inconvenient this was. We know that Rochester and his family became enmeshed with the Mason family, and he got a lot of money from Bertha, so her father likely would have taken him to court. At any rate, Rochester was legally bound to bring Bertha with him to England when he left Jamaica. If he attempted to abandon her in Jamaica, the backlash it would have brought would have brought him social ruin and foiled his chances at getting away with any bigamy attempts.

All this brings us to a further notice of Bertha's family situation. Based on Charlotte Brontë's positive comments about Rochester's character (https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/731403104856195072/in-a-letter-to-w-s-williams-14-august-1848) I see no reason to suspect him, like many feminist critics do, of being an unreliable narrator or of lying about Bertha Mason's history. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, and in mine, that is simply not the novel Charlotte wrote. By her own admission, she wanted his narrative to be a path to further goodness.

It makes no narrative sense for our explanation of his and Bertha's history to be full of lies when he's trying to make ammends with Jane, who never suspects him of lying during his admission, but who does critique him and figure he'd tire of her like she was one of his many mistresses. Jane wonders if Rochester would lock her in an attic too, which he refutes on the basis that he loves her more than he loved Bertha when she was sane, and so he would care for Jane himself. Jane also tells him that it's not Bertha's fault that she's mad. So in my opinion, if Charlotte wanted us to believe Rochester was lying about his and Bertha's history to make himself look better or Bertha look worse, I don't see why she would have been vague about it, and I don't see why Jane wouldn't have called it out like she does everything else. I don't think Rochester is really a villain who locked his harmless wife in the attic for giggles; I think he weighed most of his options and found, like most people back then and even today, that keeping his problems locked up and ignored was the best solution.

Now, on with the point. I have often wondered why Rochester didn't simply "unofficially separate" from Bertha by leaving her with her family when he left. Why did he take her to England? Why didn't he just run away? It wasn't because he was an evil villain who wanted to keep her as a trophy. It's because 1) I don't think her father would have let him, as he was so quick to marry her off, 2) he felt obligated to her, and 3) it was criminal for men to abandon their wives, and it would have attracted publicity, which is what Rochester was avoiding by taking Bertha to England and sheltering her in secrecy.

Many claim that Rochester's adultery is a betrayal of his wife; and while religiously, narratively, socially, we can accept this statement, it was not legally a crime. While Rochester does honor his financial and legal obligations to his wife and her family, he does not take the religious part of the vows into account, and that's why he's cosmically punished and only rewarded after he repents, as he explains toward the end of the novel.

Another interesting point is that when Rochester recounts his decision to move back to England, he tells us that Bertha had already been declared insane in Jamaica and that she was already confined there (presumably around the 4 year anniversary before they left), meaning her father probably knew about confinement:

"One night I had been awakened by her yells (since the medical men had pronounced her mad, she had of course been shut up) — it was a fiery West Indian night; [..]"

Locking away "insane" people was standard procedure then, and if this was done with Bertha's father's knowledge, considering he locked his own wife away in an asylum, then this further absolves Rochester of a lot of the blame in my opinion. It more than likely wasn't his idea to lock her away, but the advice of "the medical men" and presumably her father's consultation as well.

8) Even if he divorced or separated from her, he couldn't remarry. Attempting these, or getting caught attempting abandonment, would have brought negative publicity that would have likely prevented the success of any future bigamy attempts. To him, secrecy and bigamy seemed better chances at securing happiness than the social ruin and likely failure the other options would have brought him.

Aside from Rochester's own explanation (which I supplied in #2 re: the separation veto inherent to Bertha's insanity), the other biggest reason as to why Rochester wouldn't seek a separation/divorce even if she hadn't been declared insane and even if he were willing to accuse her of adultery truthfully or not, is due to the fact that one could not legally remarry upon separation or divorce (unless you were Henry VIII and got God's permission lol). Rochester's impossible dream is that he wants to be married to someone he really loves, and if secrecy and bigamy are his only options then he is willing to succumb; this is shown in numerous passages:

"[..] I could reform — I have strength yet for that — if— but where is the use of thinking of it, hampered, burdened, cursed as I am? Besides, since happiness is irrevocably denied me, I have a right to get pleasure out of life: and I will get it, cost what it may."

"I will keep my word: I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness — yes, goodness; I wish to be a better man than I have been; than I am — as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hinderances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and rotten wood."

"Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgment — I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion — I defy it."

Closing remarks on the above's validity: I can't cite all my sources because a lot of this stuff I learned from lectures via my professor who specializes in 19th century English literature & history. But here's some recently published information from a historian, taken from "Inside the World of Bridgerton: True Stories of Regency High Society" by Catherine Curzon (2023):

"And if you were one of the newly-weds, you really did hope things would work out, because in the Regency till death do us part wasn't just an expression. As the Prince Regent himself had learned when he separated from his wife within eighteen months of their marriage, obtaining a divorce in Regency England was no easy matter. He never achieved it, and for those who did the stakes could be high and the cost ruinous in every sense."

"Until the passing of the Matrimonial Causes Act of 1857, which legalized divorce in the civil courts, it was governed by the ecclesiastical courts, and the Church didn't end a marriage without very, very good reason. Even these divorces didn't allow a couple to remarry, though, and they were more akin to what we would today call a legal separation, with no shared legal or financial responsibilities going forward. It was freedom, but only to a point."

"The only way to obtain a complete dissolution that allowed for remarriage was to secure a parliamentary divorce, and these were notoriously difficult to obtain. They began with a criminal conversation case, because they relied on adultery by one of the parties to make them even a slight possibility. If a woman committed crim. con., her life in polite society was over."

#jane eyre #lord byron #charlotte brontë #charlotte bronte #byronicism #marriage #divorce #marriage laws #english history #english legal history #mr. rochester #bertha mason #mr rochester #analysis #literature #english literature #history #Inside the World of Bridgerton: True Stories of Regency High Society #regency era #georgian era #19th century #1800s #victorian #Catherine Curzon #interesting #essays #the bronte sisters #the brontes

[herlondonboy]

High Infidelity

Pairings: Xavier Thorpe x gn!reader / Xavier Thorpe x Wednesday Addams

Summary: chase two girls, lose The 1

Warnings: cheating, infidelity, Xavier gets slapped. lmk if there are any more

Word Count: 0.8k

You loved Xavier so much. More than he would ever know. He was the sunshine on your darkest days; the moonlight and the stars in the sky. He was just yours. But that all changed when Wednesday Addams came to Nevermore.

You went to his art shed only to discover that the locks had been changed. You knocked on the door and heard Xavier curse and rush around the small room. A couple minutes later, he unlocked the door and greeted you with messy hair. You noticed how his lips were slightly swollen, but ignored it as he invited you in.

“So, uh, what brings you here, y/n?” Xavier asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Can’t an Outcast come and see their boyfriend every now and again?” You joked, leaning up to kiss him. He smelt of death, the same scent the new girl smelt of. “I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movies. We could watch that new horror film you want to see so bad.”

“Oh.” He mumbled, looking back. “I, uhm, I’m kind of busy at the moment. Maybe tomorrow?” He asked sheepishly.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” You nodded. You went to walk away before turning to him. “And how come you changed the locks?”

“Oh, I just have a surprise for our anniversary next month.” Xavier shrugged nonchalantly and your smile dropped slightly.

“Okay, see you.” You waved. “Love you.”

“Fare thee well.” Xavier joked. You waited a second, but the words you wished to hear never came.

It had been like that for a while now. Ever since Wednesday Addams arrived, you became more of a friend than a partner. Long, late night walks became ‘Sorry, Wednesday needs my help.’ He’d let go of your hand whenever he saw Wednesday, wouldn’t say ‘I love you’ back whenever she was in earshot distance. It hurt.

This boy that would once bring you breakfast when you were sick; this boy that would once teach you how to draw simple things under the moonlight, gone. Gone into a fraction of the man he was. This act of high infidelity destroyed you.

Part of you longed for him to tell you the truth, you wanted to hear it from him, not from your peers that had been under the impression that the two of you had broken up. They had seen Xavier’s moves, the ones he made on Wednesday. Your heart broke when everyone came to console you. You had no idea what was going on, having had the flu and being bedridden. Enid, Wednesday’s roommate attacked you with a hug the first time she saw you that week. You awkwardly patted her back in confusion and she broke away to explain. Xavier had been seen kissing Wednesday under the moonlight in your spot.

That was a month ago. You figured that if he really cared, he would’ve tried harder to keep it a secret. He should know, there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love. The slowest way is never loving them enough.

You were left doubting yourself. Did Wednesday have something that you don’t? Were you not as pretty as Wednesday? How could someone so in love with you just fall out of love like that? Did he ever even love you?

“I’m breaking up with you.” Xavier said. The date was April 29th. Your anniversary. He hadn’t shown up for your date and now here he was, breaking you with you. Who the hell does he think he is? “I… i think that you were manipulating me with your siren song and-"

You cut him off by punching his face. “You cheat on me for months and have the audacity to blame me?” You asked in shock, holding your pounding hand. Xavier looked shock. “Oh, you think I don’t know? You think that I don’t know that you kissed Wednesday in our spot under the moonlight? I built that place. I made the handles paintbrushes, not her. I said I love you there, not HER!” You yelled.

“y/n, calm down.” Xavier said quietly, looking at all of the eyes on you.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. I am calm!” You exclaimed. “No, Xavier, I break up with you.” You then said.

“Am I interrupting something?” A monotone voice said, making you jump out of your skin.

Xavier looked distraught and you turned to see Wednesday Addams. “Yes.” You said, turning back to your boyfriend. “I love you. You are my sun and my moon and my stars. I can’t even find it in my heart to hate you.” Tears gathered in your eyes as you spoke your mind. “Did I do something? Am I not pretty enough? Not cool enough?”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” Xavier said. You wanted to call BS, but he continued. “I fell out if love with you and instead of telling you, I lead you on.”

“But why? When?” You had began crying.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “I just know that when I saw Wednesday, I felt what I felt when we first started dating.”

I didn’t mean to hurt you. But you did. You did, you did.

#Taylor Swift inspired #kinda #high infidelity #midnights 3am edition #folklore #wednesday netflix #wednesday tim burton #wednesday the series #wednesday tv show #wednesday x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #wednesday x xavier #Wednesday Addams #Wednesday Addams x Xavier Thorpe #elijah writes #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe fanfic

[agi-ppangx]

💌letter five - fare thee well

╰► han jisung has sent you a letter !

series masterlist

“you blocked my number two days ago and from what i know you came back to your parents house. your friend told me you’ve been crying since and i don’t know what to do about it. i don’t know if i’m even supposed to do anything. 

you took almost all of your stuff but left the plushie i won you two years ago when we were on a date in the amusement park. i don’t know what to do with it, cause you were always cuddling it to sleep and now you’re gonna have to sleep alone. 

i’m kind of surprised our relationship has lasted this long. almost three years and it’s just now we’ve noticed something wasn’t right. sometimes i go back to the very beginning and try to pinpoint the exact moment things stopped working between us. and the more i think about it the more i start to realise - the things never worked to begin with. we were always awkward around each other and i don’t think we’ve ever felt truly comfortable in our relationship. it sucks, of course, because after all we’ve been living together for two and a half years and now i’m sitting all alone in our apartment knowing god damn well that you won’t be coming back. you won’t greet me at the door anymore and i won’t be able to cuddle you at night. but maybe that’s for the better. after all, we didn’t do any of this stuff to each other out of love. it was rather out of habit. we‘ve never actually loved each other, right?

i think we both know that this is the official end of our relationship. and it hurts. even if i don't love you, i still care about you and i don’t think i’ll ever stop. you’ll always have a special place in my heart. and maybe, just maybe, we can get together some time and catch up with our lives. wherever you’ll be, i hope you’ll be be happy. 

take care, jisung.

PS. i’ve just noticed you left your engagement ring in the bedroom. i don’t need it so you can do whatever you want with it. maybe you can sell it and have some extra money. it doesn’t have a sentimental value anyway”

taglist: @lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01

let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist🤎

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

#skz #stray kids #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids scenarios #skz angst #stray kids angst #han jisung #skz han #stray kids han #han jisung headcanons #han jisung x reader #han jisung stray kids #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung angst

[asksimonbelmont]

Sir Belmont - I wanted to simply say thanks for sharing your story and being honest about your struggles. To hear a legend so candid about his fear and doubt, how closely he struggled with despair and still managed to triumph, brings me comfort. Hearing how you pulled yourself from the brink of ruin gives me hope that I might do the same. It seems presumptuous, to compare us, when my fall was due to my own arrogance and yours, a noble sacrifice, but I draw courage from your stories all the same. Perhaps one day I can hold my head as high as you do. I pray this letter finds you and yours safe, healthy, and happy, and that the darkness stays far from all that you love. Fare thee well. -H.B.

H.B., Thank you for this letter. I deeply appreciate your kindness.

A legend? No, my friend. I am only a man. My fears and doubts were borne from challenges - ones that I am sure you have experienced as well. Ones I am sure that you can and will overcome, too. For that reason it is not presumptuous to compare us: we are not different.

You speak of arrogance bringing your downfall. I see no arrogance in these words. Arrogance would not lead you to write to me, nor share humility with me. I will not begin to speak to your experiences, but I have faith in your ability to overcome hardship.

Have faith in yourself. Have courage. Not borne from my stories—but from within.

Take heart: no matter how dark the night, morning always comes.

I will treasure your words. I hope you may treasure my reply.

May God protect you and yours.

Sincerely, Simon Belmont

#this really resonated with me #thank you #any simon applicable #akumajou dracula #castlevania #simon belmont

[drabbles-of-writing]

You ever think about what it was like for Luz to explain to her friends and family that ‘oh yeah I died saving the Collector when he tried to friendship Belos into being good, until King’s dad, who’s also bigender, pulled me out from sinking into death, told me to tell King he loved him with a bread pun-also he had a dad bod and a mini Hootie just sticking out of one of his eye sockets- and then asked me if I wanted to be the chosen one and when I agreed I came back from death! And like, Eda and King already dealt with the ‘holy shit Luz actually died’ thing but like, Camilia, Amity, Gus, Hunter, and Willow knew absolutely NOTHING

at that point I think Luz just has to sit down with Eda and King and they all have to think about the pros and cons of just. not. saying anything. and keeping it on the down-low that Luz died briefly. Eda and King are both absolutely fucking terrified of anyone else hearing, especially Eda since Luz died, y'know, while under her watch, so.

Of course, as Luz is explaining this, she says something along the lines of "I mean, we haven't even really processed Hunter's death, so it could either work with us or--"

to which Eda immediately stands up, bids fare thee well, and busts out the strongest bottle of wine she has. she has not processed her own kids death, she's not about to think about that other kid briefly dying, thank you very much

#asks #the owl house #toh #watching and dreaming #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #king toh #king clawthorne #hunter toh #death #alcohol #eda is aging 20 years every five seconds in this house #in the end everyone finds out because hunter and luz are having a bickering siblings battle #to which hunter. who has very bad coping mechanisms but luckily luz rubbed off on him enough that its turned to humor #instead of the much more concerning. digging himself a grave and panicking. so its progress #regardless hunter makes a joke about luz going god mode and says yeah you got cool powers and all #but i /died/ for my cool powers. so there #to which luz slams the table like JOKES ON YOU MY POWERS WERE COOLER AND SO WAS MY DEATH! #and theres just a very very loud silence

[userpreviouslyknownasbakudeku]

my time as tumblr user bakudeku is coming to a close...after a decade of standing as a monument to early bnha fandom drama, it will finally be set free

finding this url hoarded from my high school days was absolutely hilarious and brought back lots of memories I had totally forgotten about. thanks everyone who joined in on the tournament or cheered others on! it was a lot of fun to do it this way for me & i really enjoyed seeing what everyone had to say.

this blog will stay up under a different url once bakudeku is safely exchanged to keep the tournament posts available!

fare thee well, friends 🫡

#bakudeku beatdown #messages and asks will stay open to if anyone wants to contact me for any reason

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: New Game Patch (December 14th, 2023)

One week after the release of The Sims 4 For Rent, EA/Maxis sent out a patch to fix a few bugs from the expansion pack.

If you have auto updates enabled in Origin’s “Application Settings”, the game will auto-update once you open Origin. If you have auto-updates disabled, you will need to manually update by clicking the game in your library. Advertisement

To ensure your game is up to date, check the game version found in Documents > EA > The Sims 4 > GameVersion.txt. Your game should now read: PC: 1.103.315.1020 / Mac: 1.103.315.1220. Console: 1.85.

Hey fam,

Finicky flaws? Fear not for there’s a few fearsome fixes for faulty functionality fresh from your faithful friends at Maxis. Bugs? We fixed four for For Rent! Facts. Please forgive.

Fancy the Festivities and Fare thee Well

Dab (cringe trait)

Your Fav SimGuruNinja

Bug Fixes

For Rent

Mellowing out Build Mode: Drawing, deleting, and auto-filling wallpaper in Residential Rentals will stop causing Build Mode slowdown.

Mellowing out Evil Landlords:Taka Soi premade lot rents won’t get into the Billions and force you to stay. Let’s keep it civil. Any incorrect price UI in existing saves should quickly update to normal by the next bills cycle.

Mellowing out water usage: Sims will no longer obsessively excessively autonomously shower when hygiene is not low. Like, you’re clean already, Sim. Stop.

FreeRealEstate On cheat will now turn on again: Cheaters can happily mellow out once more.

#news #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 5

[bettsfic]

hello! here's an excerpt of the snowbaird modern AU i've been working on. it's a holiday fic, so i'd love to have it posted before christmas. in this fic, coriolanus is a server at a restaurant and lucy gray is the bartender. she's recently started asking him for rides home, so they've been getting to know one another. it's currently sitting at about 10k and i hope to god it maxes out before 25k.

With his texts still pulled up, he decided to reach out to Lucy Gray. They were friends, after all. Friends texted each other. But what to say? “How are you” was boring and banal. She might find it sweet but he knew her well enough to know that she liked getting to the root of things. 

Where was that song from? The fare thee well one

She didn’t reply right away. He tried to occupy his attention with organizing his email inbox and checking his Canvas assignment calendar, but he found his eyes straying repeatedly to his phone. Twenty minutes later, he received a text back. He snatched up his phone, expecting the name of an artist and album, or a link to a YouTube video, or an inquiry as to why he didn’t just google it himself, but instead when he opened the message he found a wall of text so long that he had to scroll three times to reach the top.

HI CORIOLANUS!, it began. He thought all caps and an exclamation point was stylistically redundant but he appreciated and was relieved by her enthusiasm. Fare thee well has an interesting history dating back to 1909…

Were it not for the myriad spelling and punctuation errors, he would have thought she’d copied it from Wikipedia. From anyone else, the infodump would have bored him, but from her it only warmed him to think she’d been willing to spend so much time sharing her knowledge with him. To him, both time and attention were precious commodities.

He’d put off texting her for so long in part because he worried the conversation would become strained and awkward, but the reverse was true: texting her was so easy—and he was so eager to respond to her messages—that he did it while he drove and nearly veered into a median on the way home. He knew she was working that night and so the messages slowed down in the evening. He had to pocket his phone at the dinner table per one of the few household rules, but he could still barely pay attention to the benign chatter of Tigris and the Grandma’am about grocery store deals and soap operas.

While he did the dishes, Tigris leaned against the counter, arms across her chest, and said, “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you work sixty hours a week and don’t sleep.”

He glanced over his shoulder to find the Grandma’am had returned to her easy chair in the family room, the television blasting an obnoxious commercial jingle for a local car dealer. 

“I met a girl,” he said.

Tigris’s pale eyebrows rose up to her equally pale hair. “A girl? Like, a girl girl?”

“How is a girl girl different than a girl?”

“I just mean, like, a girl?”

“I have a crush, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tigris squealed and hugged him from the side. “Baby Coryo’s got his first crush!”

“It’s not my first—” He stopped. It was his first crush, aside from Geena Davis in A League of Their Own. His usual date for high school dances and makeout parties was Livia, who was easily the prettiest girl in his cohort just as he was the prettiest boy, although he had never been attracted to her and the feeling, or lack thereof, seemed to be mutual. But that was the Academy for you—if you looked like you should be together, then you were, by definition, together. The power of appearances.

“I guess it is,” he said to the dirty dishwater.

“Does she like you back?”

He hadn’t considered that. He’d just assumed she didn’t and never would. Everything he’d ever wanted had been out of his reach and Lucy Gray was no exception.

“I’ve been driving her home from work,” he said. “And we’ve been texting.”

He showed Tigris the text thread.

“All of this is from today?” she asked, scrolling and scrolling.

“She’s a bit verbose.”

“She uses so many emojis.”

“It’s so cute.”

“And look at all these spelling errors.”

“Also cute.”

Tigris looked up from the phone. “You’re really gone on her. I never thought you’d like a girl who messes up there, their, and they’re.”

“I’m not a pedant.”

“Pedantry is a core facet of your personality, Coryo. You started correcting my use of ‘whom’ when you were four.”

“You may have noticed I’ve changed a bit since then. If nothing else, I’m taller and slightly less obsessed with Spongebob Squarepants.”

She gave him a look.

“Okay, very slightly less,” he amended.

#free ride #writing update

[dubiouslynamed]

Alright, this idea has been giving me a hard time for weeks. Out into the void it goes! Sorry it's so long. There's more under the cut, believe me.

CURTAIN/ NIAT RUC

The Bentley's license plate, NIAT RUC, has been visible from the beginning of this show and it's been nagging at the back of my head just as long. Why is it 'curtain' spelled backwards? What does it mean? And what is the overall story about? Crowley asks the question at the beginning of Season 2. What's the point of it all? Angels, demons, heaven, hell? Is that license plate a Clue? Obviously, I think it is.

Good Omens is about friendship and love, certainly. But there's more going on. The book and show both deal with huge moral and ethical questions-often in the flashbacks, but not always. Why is the universe the way it is? Why do bad things happen to good people? How do you choose between two bad options? Why should you have to, sometimes? Is it right to harm one person to save another (Or many others? Or all the others?). What's the point of it all?

I think that's part of why this particular story, in whatever medium it's told, is so compelling. I love the characters and the writing and the direction and the production-clearly all the work of many very committed people who also love the story and have the skill and talent to bring it to life. But the best stories, and for me this is one of them, examine the *really* big questions. Good Omens asks those questions and somehow (Maybe by using an angel and demon as protagonists? I don't know. It's a mystery!) manages to be hugely entertaining while doing so.

Curtain is Agatha Christie's last Hercule Poirot mystery. She wrote it in the early 1940s, partly worried she might die in the Blitz and leave her detective without a satisfactory ending, and locked it up to be published over 30 years later in the 1970s. In it, a dying Poirot solves the mystery of the identity of a serial killer who has mastered the art of psychologically provoking other people to commit murders without ever being found out as the person who persuaded them to kill. There isn't enough evidence to charge this indirect murderer with anything and Poirot believes he will continue his crimes uncaught. Poirot murders the serial killer himself (by deceiving his friend Hastings to a fare-thee-well and then arranging the evidence to look like the killer committed suicide). He then stops taking the medicine that has been keeping him alive. Poirot's solution is what he sees as the lesser evil of murdering the killer followed by atonement in the form of his own death. In short, Poirot has chosen among the bad options available to him while retaining the moral sense that his choice is itself evil. Some Christie fans won't read Curtain and I don't blame them.

The Metatron looks a lot like the manipulative serial killer in Curtain, though a writer as skilled as Neil Gaiman doesn't borrow entire characters or plots. The Metatron is certainly in a position to have influenced or even caused some of Heaven's morally outrageous actions by representing them as the word of God. Poisoning the angels against humanity bit by bit over millennia until they have no problem with the idea of destroying all of creation. They're even enthusiastic about it. Heaven is arguably worse than Hell at this point because, in fairness, Hell seems to look at humanity as a recruitment opportunity more than anything else.

In the first series of Good Omens, we see Crowley propose murdering the Antichrist to stop the Apocalypse and Aziraphale come close to doing it (he is only stopped by Madame Tracy's good sense from firing the thunder gun at Adam). You have to wonder what would have happened to Aziraphale if he'd managed to succeed. Something like Poirot's death? Do even good-hearted angels have to choose between bad options?

I believe that authors, being deeply concerned with words and their meanings, should be taken seriously about what they call their stories. An omen is a portent, for good or for evil, of events to come. So the name Good Omens essentially means 'this is a story about good things that will happen in the future'. Perhaps, perhaps, then, Good Omens is a story about finding and removing a source of evil in the universe without having to commit a moral crime to do it and, as a consequence, getting things more on track to a happier ending for everyone, our characters included. Not to a place where too often there is only a choice among bad options but to a place where there are more good options. More reason for the dealer in God's metaphor to be smiling all the time. Not Curtain, but its reverse.

#gos2 #good omens #good omens meta

[gaycrittercentral]

I’d like to know where the Maxlings came from

Oh hell yeah I’d love to tell!! ok so I had the concept planned as a comic initially but it really got away from me and got too long for me to actually make, so what I’ve got is sort of a script-lookin thing that I would have used as framework for it. I hope that’s an ok format?? I considered trying to write it into more of a prose/fic format but honestly I like it best like this. Ok enough rambling I hope it’s funny to y’all lmao (also it got. Um. Very long)

First scene is in the middle of a beautiful glade deep in the woods, where Sam and Max are dancing in a crowd of magical-looking fairies, grinning at each other. It’s late and there are fairy lights (teehee) illuminating the area, tables of food and drink scattered around the outskirts of the crowd.

S: wow, quite the day we’ve had, eh little pal?

M: you can say that again, Sam! I mean, how often do you get to save an ancient fairy commune by beating up their evil warlock oppressor?

S: and on top of that they throw this little shindig in our honor! I have to say, I never knew lutes could play such great club music.

M: and I’m living for these hors d’oeuvres! We simply must get the recipe.

Behind them, a pair of fairies in big leafy crowns talk quietly.

Fairy queen: these strangers are so delightfully mischievous.

Other fairy queen (they are lesbians): quite! Truly a pair of mortals after our own hearts. How should we reward them for defeating our fell foe?

FQ 1: hmm…I have an amusing idea. What’s better than two chaos-causing mortals?

FQ 2: ahhh, I see! A marvelous idea!

The queens approach Sam and Max, with several other smiling fairies clustered around.

FQ 2: well, my friends, it has been a true pleasure to have you! Before you depart, my queen and I have a gift for you as thanks for defeating the dreaded warlock Snivellion.

(M: tee hee)

FQ 1: here, please take these.

She hands Max a little package made of leaves and tied with twine.

FQ 1: these magical seeds will grow into a wonderful gift if you keep them warm and safe.

M: well, we don’t have the best record with houseplants…

S: but we’ll happily accept your gift anyway! I’m sure they’ll be fun for the few minutes they manage to survive in the harsh climate of our office.

M: if they live through the trip back in my pocket, that is.

FQ 2: oh, trust me, I’m sure they will be every bit as hardy as the two of you.

Max stuffs the leaf packet in his inventory and he and Sam take their leave, waving to the fairies as they go.

S: so long now! Have fun partying eternally!

M: you know, we never did get introduced—don’t suppose I could get your names?

FQ 1: hah, nice try. Fare thee well, mortals!

FQ 2: farewell!

As they go, we see a shot of Max’s inventory, with his gun and maybe a hammer or something to show that’s what it is. The leaf package sits quietly for a moment, before releasing a tiny sprout.

Several months later…

Sometime in the dead of night, they’re both sleeping until Max stirs and sits up with his ears all lopsided, looking kinda disgruntled and tired.

M: I’m gonna go take a dump

S, not quite asleep yet and regretting it: you don’t have to tell me every time. I actually think I’d rather if you didn’t.

M: but what if I fall in? I’d want you to know what I was doing! :D

S: *half-asleep grumbling*

Max wanders off to the bathroom to perch on the can and read a magazine.

M: oh, Martha, you get me. Mostly because we’ve both been to the slammer

Suddenly a baby wail echoes from the toilet (thank you, mammalian diving reflex) and Max immediately screams, flings his magazine to parts unknown and runs for the hills.

M: Sam!! SAM!!! The toilet screamed at me!!!! I think that ill-advised bathroom exorcism we did instead of cleaning the shower drain didn’t work, we must’ve summoned some kind of toilet ghost instead!!

S: what are you talking about, numbskull? You interrupted a perfectly good dream I was having about a discontinued ice cream bar :(

M: just come help me get rid of it! I can’t go with some spectral peeping Tom shrieking at me!

They get to the bathroom and Max hovers by the door as Sam inspects the toilet.

S: Max, you cotton-brained dolt, there’s no ghosts in—GREAT GALLOPING GEYSERS TAP DANCING ON SATURN’S FURTHEST MOON!

He immediately reaches in to save the weird little wet rat almost glaring accusingly at him from the bowl (it could glare a little better if its eyes were functional yet). Max cringes at him.

M: Jesus, Sam, I know we’re both nasty, but I thought we agreed to leave this level of grossness to me! Wait what the fuck is that thing.

S: well, if my outdated recollection of mammalian biology and your horrifying baby pictures is correct, then I’d say it kind of looks like a neonatal lagomorph. Did…did this come out of you?

M: oh please, I think I’d know if I had something like that stashed away somewhere in here. (Vaguely gestures to himself) Now could you get outta the way? If it was just some weird naked rat that crawled up the toilet to yell at me and not a ghost, then I’d like to finish my business in here.

Sam stares at the little rat-looking baby. It has teeth. Teeth like Max’s. He grabs a towel out of the bathroom closet instead and tosses it in the bathtub, then nabs Max by the scruff of his neck and deposits him on top of it.

S: why don’t you just wait down here for a minute while I get this little thing cleaned up?

M: Sam what the hell I don’t need to be housebroken!! Ugh fine but you’re cleaning the towel if—oh my god there’s another one.

S: SWEET SAINT OLGA OF KIEV SINGING OPERA FOR AN AUDIENCE OF PUPPETS WITH A TIN FOIL SUIT AND TIE AND A CREAMED CORN CROWN

Several escaped kits later…

Sam and Max lie together in bed with the kits on top of them, all wiggling around and squeaking faintly. Sam looks vaguely shaken by the experience, but Max just kinda looks like it’s totally normal.

M: haha I thought you guys were just weird little turds! Well, aren’t all children though, come to think of it

S: and you’re sure they came out of your inventory and not some hitherto unknown reproductive system of yours?

M: Sam, at this point I think I’d be able to tell if they’d been up my ass, don’t you?

S: well, sure, but also that’s not where—

M: and besides, my pocket snacks have been going missing all day and this totally explains it. Look, that one’s still got Cheeto dust all over her face!

Sam looks down at one of the girls, who is indeed very orange.

S: ooh. Let me just clean you up there, sweetheart.

He licks her clean gently. She squeaks in approval.

S: huh! What do you know, that really is Cheeto dust.

M: see, I told you so! I still have no idea how they could’ve gotten in there, though…I mean, they look brand new. And also a lot like us.

S: well, mostly like you.

M: nah, see, this one’s got little floppy ears! And lookit their tails, mine’s not long like that. Oh! And this one’s got your nose!! Oh, Sam, it’s so precious I could just squish her like an overripe tomato! …um, but I won’t, obviously.

S: personally, I find myself rather enamored with their tiny little toe beans. Just look at that! They’re so little…

They both giggle delightedly over the kits for a minute, before relaxing back into the pillows. It’s still the middle of the night and they’re both exhausted.

S: so…if we don’t know how they got there, and they don’t look like they could be anybody else’s…

M: 👀

S: I mean unless we want to take them to the vet to check for microchips or something…?

M: too late I’m already coming up with names and dreaming of all the bad words I’m gonna teach them

S: oh, good, so am I. I guess it doesn’t matter how they got there, then…but you really have to wonder…

Something like a half hour ago…

The kits are sitting in a little pile in the middle of Max’s inventory, the opened leaf package below them and Max’s gun leaning against the wall beside them (it’s bigger than they are). Lacey’s face is covered in Cheeto dust and there are a few remaining Cheeto crumbs scattered around them. They have a brief conversation of squeaks, translated into pictures.

Maisie: >:/ *exit sign, there isn’t an emoji for it but just draw one*❗️(she’s bored and she wants out)

Lacey and Crowbar: :o ???

Maisie starts crawling around determinedly until she comes across some kind of rift in reality, through which the toilet bowl is visible. But not to her, of course, because she can’t see just yet. She immediately plummets out of the rift with a tiny shriek, and her siblings react like :0 there’s silence for a second, before Crowbar squeaks and is translated to:

C: dare you to go after her

L: 👀

And that’s it!! Hdkhsshsg here’s hoping it’s at least a little amusing to y’all because it’s very funny to me for whatever reason hdjshsjhddhdjhfjd

Oh! And as a reward for sticking around here’s one of the other first drawings of them I ever did :’> they were very much inspired by @lillylunala’s drawings of Max as a baby if it isn’t obvious, which you should absolutely check out if you haven’t seen them bc my god she really nailed it heheheeee

#hhhhfhdhdgshgskjfhsgsjjdh little creachers…. #I wanted to capture that early comics feeling of them being inexplicably wrapped up in a bizarrely supernatural case #but refusing to explain how they got the case or how they got where they are or how they know these people or anything lmao #y’know just like ‘well max here we are in the enchanted fairies’ woods! better go arrest that warlock’ #and it’s like how the fuck did you know to come here. did the commissioner tell you to go beat up a warlock?? since when are fairies real #and absolutely none of that gets answered hdkdhdjdhs #also rip to Maisie falling headfirst into a toilet. second child of theirs to be pulled out of one at birth #sam and max #freelance husbands #the maxlings #asks #my art

[knightofleo]

Susanne Sundfør | fare thee well

Goodbye, this is the endgame I'm defeated, you are broken Take this song as a token of my thankfulness Oh my, how it ends How we rallied against all our flaws No more masquerading I won't pretend no more, or play any more games Our song is over Only echo remains So, I raise my hands and say: "Oh my love, fare thee well, my friend"

#susanne sundfør #fare thee well #blomi #blómi #songs of 2023 #Bandcamp