Fic Update Thread 57: Varieties of Fandom Experience

[Mamorien]

Dial: Call Resumed (MCU SI/Ben 10)
https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/...-110245439

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/52899/...part-2-end
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14061836/22...ll-Resumed

Antediluvian (Soul Eater post-canon) Pt. IV: Monody, Chpt. XIII: Myrialogue.

Apologies to everyone; I mixed up the titles between chapters 12 and 13. It's been corrected, so their current titles are as intended. Also, due to changes to my workload, my updates may face a bit of a lag in the future. Please keep in mind that I have no intention of ever abandoning this fic; it just may take me longer to grind out chapters.

Thank you for your time, patience, and readership;

~FD

**TRIGGER WARNING: Discussions of teen pregnancy and child abuse. Implications of domestic violence**

Death the Younger has a realization.

At this point in their communications, the reaper understood that the other Great Old Ones didn't see him as himself.

It was understandable. He was his father's son but, like his father, he was thoroughly Order. Death, Order, had been imprisoned 800 years. And yet Kid's memories weren't even a century old. It had never been necessary for him to question his father on the matter of this discrepancy. It, in and of itself, was question and answer.

Great Old Ones didn't need true heirs.

And he had never been meant to be one.

He had been created not as a successor, but as a continuation. A hollow shell that operated to guard the Order of the world. There had never been a need for him to be anything else and, especially following the disaster of Fear, it had been a logical decision to keep him empty. Vapid. The current Death had no knowledge of this portion of his existence, the point wherein he had operated as a machine, enforcing the will of Order in a mad world that had lost its Lord. Death itself would continue as long as his father lived, the reaper's influence at the end remaining steady. But Order was another matter. Necessary and fragile, it was a concept that had to be continuously defended, had to insist on itself in a world of magic and madness and free will.

He had no idea what he had been, what he had done, what had prompted his father to grant him the luxury of thought. His earliest memory was of the Death Room. In body that was perhaps five years old. Consciousness hit him like a blow to the soul as he looked up at a being he instinctively knew to be his parent.

Just like the boy who saved the world....hello, Kid.

A will was a gift and a curse. It meant he had been able to think on his own, make decisions and mistakes, develop a personality and goals. Anxieties and humor, build bonds and memories that would forge together to create him. An entity apart from what Death had been, ever Order and yet simultaneously ever himself. The other Great Old One's would never understand this concept, not fully. To them, he was simply his father in a new vessel. A loophole out of his containment. It was pointless to be offended by this view though discussions with the others were made more complex. And never had he felt the consequences of this discrepancy more acutely.

Order had deemed it necessary to confine Desire. And he had no idea why.

He barely registered Rage's barking laughter and Knowledge's derisive snort.

“Ha! You don't even remember this much? Did he transfer anything to his Fragment?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/449614.../164725123