#The Field Guide to Evil

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

186. The Field Guide To Evil (2018)

[wonderfulstills]

The Field Guide to Evil

[ Ahluwalia, Evrenol, Fiala , Franz, Gebbe, Reeder, Smoczynska, Strickland & Veslemes • 2018]

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

SUMMARY: This global anthology of eight narratives explores dark folklore through a series of myths and tales that have captivated, galvanized and frightened communities throughout history.

[thegreenhordes]

Field Guide to encounters with The Glow, Part One: Type 1 infected, AKA Growlers.

Growlers are intensely aggressive, so much so that they are just as violent towards other infected as anything else that moves. While blind, the Growlers are equipped with keen hearing and smell, and can locate a potential meal from far distances. Constantly on the hunt, these unfortunate beasts' diet of choice ultimately leaves them unsatisfied and starving. Stage 3 Type 1 infected usually die within weeks, but some have survived up to two months.

To Distract a Growler: Find some way to create noise in the opposite direction that you are located. Make sure it is loud, and lasts long enough for you to run. Flying is a viable method of escape if you possess wings, as stage 2 and 3 Growlers are incapable of flight. Stage 2 due to the weakening of their flight muscles- and stage 3 due to the loss of feathers.

How to avoid detection: Mask your scent. Try to remain as neutral-smelling as possible. This can be hard to do, but do your best and you will avoid being sniffed out by a late stage Growler. Avoiding detection by a stage 2 is simply a matter of staying out of sight and keeping noise to a whisper. Additionally, avoid making noise when near a stage 3 Growler. If you cannot be detected through smell, your best bet with a stage 3 is to hold completely still, breath slowly (quietly), and wait for them to leave line of sight- then you can make a run for it. Stage 3 Growlers are strong but slow-moving. Outrunning them in a large enough space is possible.

Special Notes: Growlers at stage 3 cannot be reasoned with and have the minds of starving, cornered predators. However, due to stage 2 Growlers being still rather cognizant, you can communicate with them- it is recommended to do so with some form of barrier however, due to their overwhelming instinct to bite and infect everything they see. When things were still relatively stable and infected were being appropriately contained, Princess Twilight Sparkle had frequent verbal contact with multiple stage 2 Growlers in her care. They were reluctantly polite, expressing a clear desire to attack the princess, but understood their situation well enough to be compliant at the time. All these stage 2s eventually progressed into stage 3, and were either put down, escaped, or kept for further study.

[okbirdphotos]

Louisiana Waterthrush

Virginia, April 2024.

[moonmunson]

hello my old heart

a/n: wally clark has invaded my brain space and i cannot seem to rid him from my mind his himbo charms have seduced me. just in my mind this is set in the late '90s, but mr. martin isn't evil. none of the other kids are really mentioned by name, but this would be a few years after charley's death. as always i'm writing with a plus sized!reader in mind but anyone can read it.

summary: struggling with becoming comfortable in death, wally has made himself your new buddy.

cw: general angst and sadness over being dead, wally is a sweetheart who just wants to help. hurt/comfort with a sweet ending and a little bit of kissing. gn!reader, theatre kid x jock

wc: 2.1k

You think you’ve been dead for a little over a week. It’s hard to tell - time moves so differently here. It feels like static on the skin, the way the TV screen feels fuzzy when you touch it after it's been turned off. You haven’t spoken much, and the other dead kids don’t expect you to for a while. They’ve all told you that everyone reacts differently to their death, that there’s no right or wrong way to cope. 

You’re worried that if you open your mouth, it’ll be difficult to stop crying. Or screaming, or both. So you sit quietly in the circle in the gymnasium, listening as Mr. Martin leads the support group meeting. You’re appreciative of his trying to get you to open up, but you’re only capable of responding in nods and shrugs. When it’s over, you go to make your way back to the auditorium. It might be weird to some, considering you died there, but it’s still the place you feel the safest.

A few steps out of the gym, you hear pounding footsteps coming up next to you. It’s Wally, because of course it is. He’s dubbed himself your ‘Unofficial death guide.’ He’s the sweetest, and you wish you could actively participate in conversation with him. 

“You goin’ back to the auditorium?” When he talks, you have to crane your head to the right and all the way up because he’s so fucking tall. You nod, and he parrots it. 

“I don’t know how you can go back to that place. I couldn’t even look at the football field for like a week after I died.” Even when you don’t respond, Wally keeps going. “I also don’t know how you stand sharing a space with Mina. She's, like, totally scary.” He makes a face then, pinched up, like he’s imagining being trapped in a room with the other, objectively more aggressive theatre ghost.

It makes you giggle. Like, audibly giggle. Wally’s eyes widen, surprised that he was able to get a noise out of you. He laughs in return, a breathless exhale. He’s clearly proud of himself. 

“I have got to get you to do that again.” You shake your head no, even though the smile hasn’t left your face. “I’m serious, I have got to hear that laugh again!” 

When you round the corner near the front office, you stop in your tracks, the smile on your face quickly fading. Your mom and dad are there, holding a box with everything that was in your locker. It’s a weird feeling. You hadn’t forgotten you were dead, obviously, but everything had felt very up in the air.

Like the moment before a show starts - everyone sitting in the audience, the curtain still down to block the view of actors taking their places. Like limbo. Seeing your parents, their tear stricken faces, that makes it feel real. Too real. The sharp breath you take in alerts Wally to the fact that something is wrong, and he follows your gaze to the two adults standing at the front desk. 

“Oh shit, are those your parents?” Wally asks, his voice taking a softer tone. He has a volume control problem, everyone knows it, and you’re appreciative that he’s quieted down for this.

You nod, a small jerk of your head. He brings a tentative hand up to your shoulder, and when you don’t move away, he places it more firmly. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am. Do you wanna go up and see them?” 

You don’t answer, you just walk away. Wally calls after you, but doesn’t follow. 

The auditorium truly is your safe space. You were never brave enough to actually perform anything, though your teacher had begged you to. She’d heard you singing to yourself one day, and asked why you’d never auditioned for anything. You’d just deflected and said the stage fright would make you freeze. She’d been understanding, but encouraged you to think about auditioning for the show this year. 

You were a senior, it’d been your last opportunity to be in the spotlight, but by the time auditions came around you’d chickened out. The hidden disappointment on your teacher’s face wasn’t so hidden, but she made sure you had your usual spot on the tech and run crew portion of the show.

You died a few weeks later, tripping off of the stage while setting up a set piece and breaking your neck falling into the orchestra pit. Like a sick fucking joke. 

Now, you sit in the audience, gazing at the stage. It’s still blocked off by crime tape. The show for the end of the year has been effectively cancelled on account of your dying. ‘Postponed indefinitely’ is the term the overhead announcements had used, but you all knew what that actually meant. It just wasn’t gonna happen. 

You mostly just feel numb. Obviously your death isn’t something you could ever prepare for, and just like every other ghost in the building, your life had been unfairly cut short. Just like everyone else, you’d had plans for the rest of your life. None of them solid or reliable, but you’d had some idea of what you wanted your life to look like. A well paying job that you genuinely enjoyed, maybe a husband or wife and a few kids. All of that is gone now. 

Your parents in the front office felt like a kick to the gut, salt in the wound. The look on your mom’s face, the way your dad was cradling the box of your things like if he held tight to it enough it would bring you back.. it was too much to bear.

And Wally, sweet, kind, Wally. He’s been trying really hard with you, and you can’t even work up the nerve to say something to him. To thank him for being there for you, or answer any of the many questions or jokes he throws your way. 

You don’t even realize the tears are streaming down your face until they drip onto your hands in your lap. Once you feel the first one, the rest fall in quick succession and before you know it, you’re audibly sobbing in the empty theatre. It’s almost embarrassing, the way your cries echo because of the acoustics. 

Wally comes in quietly, and sits down next to you. You’ve been too preoccupied to notice anything other than your tears, heavy and streaking down your cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He’s warm, and when you grab the front of his sweatshirt, he holds you tighter.

It takes a while for you to calm down - you’d been holding everything in for too long - you were bound to bubble over and explode at some point. When you feel yourself come back to your body, Wally is still holding you. He’s stroking your head and whispering comforts to you. You don’t deserve him, you think.

He’s still rubbing your back when you pull away to look at him, but you’re distracted by the wet spot on his sweatshirt - the light grey darkened by your tears. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your voice cracking from how long it’s been since you’ve spoken, “I’m sorry.”

Wally’s eyes widen, not prepared for you to start talking, and he jumps to console you. “Woah, hey, don’t even worry about it. This ratty old thing? I’ve been wearing it for like, almost twenty years.” He giggles a bit, continuing, “I honestly think this is the closest this thing has been to a washing machine even longer than that, so. No sweat, promise.”

You nod, thanking him. 

“Are you, like…” he trails off, not sure how to ask you if you’re okay. It’s a silly question, he knows that. “I remember the first time I saw my parents after I died. There was a vigil on the football field like a week after it happened. Everyone was there, and they were all crying and it was so weird. I didn’t feel dead yet, like I hadn’t accepted that it really happened.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you, Wally. I’m really sorry.” Your eyes meet, and he shrugs.

He smiles, a sad, nostalgic thing. He can’t tell you it’s okay, because it’s not. Instead, he goes to hold your hand. “I promise it will get better. It just takes some time. It’s gonna suck for a while, but we’re all here for you. I’m here for you.” His thumb rubs circles on the top or your hand, and you smile up at him. 

“Thanks, Wally. I really appreciate it.” Your interconnected hands are grounding you. It’s the first time you’ve felt a semblance of peace since you died. “Do you mind if we sit here for a little bit? It’s quiet, I don’t want to leave yet.” He nods, and the two of you just sit there.

Just like Wally said it would, it gets easier.

You start going to more of the meetings with Mr. Martin, and you actually start participating. It was weird at first - you thought people would make a big deal out of your finding your voice again, but they just smiled, proud of your growth. Wally has been your biggest cheerleader, but they’re all really supportive. Even Rhonda, though she still sports her gloomy demeanor. 

When they fix up the stage and clear the crime scene tape, the school holds your vigil there. Wally is right there with you in the audience, holding your hand while your parents speak. Your theatre teacher speaks too, and talks highly of you. Your brightness, the passion you had for theatre. When she says you had a beautiful voice, that you could’ve been somebody, she directs it at your parents. They agree, it seems. 

There are still days where it's really hard. You retreat back into your shell, refusing to leave the auditorium or speak to anyone. Wally's patience with you is endless, and when you allow him to stay with you, he spends all day cracking jokes to help you feel better.

One day, instead of letting you isolate yourself, he drags you out onto the football field to get some sun. "We don't really need vitamin D anymore, but I really think it'll help. C'mon, the sun on your skin? Wind in your hair? Can't beat that, babe." He leads you out onto the field - one hand clasped in yours and the other holding a backpack.

The pet names are a new thing, but you don't mind it. He'd slipped one day, called you sweetheart, and immediately backtracked and apologized profusely. All you could do was laugh and call him cute.

"Where did you even get that?" you giggle, following him to a spot under a tree near the edge of the field. "Did you steal that from someone?"

He drops your hand to bring it to his own chest, offended at your assumption. "Me? Steal? I can't believe you'd think so lowly of me," he plops onto the grass, patting the spot next to him, "Yeah I totally stole it, emptied it out, and then filled it with a shit ton of snacks and drinks so we could have a picnic out here." He unzips the bag, pulling out at least ten different bags of chips and candy bars.

"This is really sweet, Wally," you can feel your face heat up, though hopefully it'll just look like it's because of the heat. "It's like a date, almost." His head shoots up to look at you, pink dusting his cheeks and ears.

"Y-yeah, if you want it to be. If you think you're ready for that kind of thing." He stutters, a nervous boyish thing. He's the sweetest person ever.

“I am, I think,” you nod while you’re talking, like you’ve made up your mind, “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” Wally ducks his head down, chin meeting his chest. He’s fully blushing now - it’s the cutest thing you’ve seen in a long time. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and maneuvering your body so your back is pressed up against his chest, head resting in the space between his head and shoulder, “is this okay?” 

You turn your head to try and look at him, and he angles his towards you. His face is inches from yours, and if you had a heartbeat, it’d be beating wildly right now. You can almost feel it, the pitter patter of it in your chest. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the space under his eye. You nod, and move in to kiss him. 

His lips are so soft, and the way they move in conjunction with yours provides much needed relief. You stay like that for a few minutes, and when you’re done, he rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, feeling the gentle breeze sweeping up the hill you’re sitting on. You never had anything like this when you were still alive, the easy conversation and back and forth banter. He’s your new safe space. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with him. 

“This is perfect.”

a/n: wally clark is actually so special to me and when i think about him for too long i get very emotional. my shayla. i wrote this in the span of like a day and a half so if there are any mistakes i'm sorry LMAO

if you liked this story, please like and reblog!! it'd mean the world to me, even if you just drop a silly comment. i want to write more for wally because he desperately needs more stories on here.

[tarotbydelilah444]

pac: describing the type of baddie you are

pile one • 🎀

𐙚 first and foremost, you are absolutely and drop-dead gorgeous. You have unique features, or you could be from a different country, specifically Africa, or Europe (the UK… maybe). Some of you could be of mixed heritage, or you have a beautiful accent that people absolutely adore.

𐙚 you have a great and toned physique to match that face card of yours. Some of you could be or could have been an athlete, or you spend a lot of time working out and maintaining your figure to stay snatched to the gods.

𐙚 some of you could be an influencer or you are very popular in your community. Many people are inspired by you, yet there are some people that are envious and see you as competition. You could attract a lot of evil eye and jealously from haters and people that want to imitate and obtain what you’ve been able to achieve (followers, beauty, and/or success), but aren’t successful, so they stay watching and big mad at you. Muahhh… no access 💋.

𐙚 you are a natural seducer and a flirt. You have this sultriness and confidence that many people respect and find attractive. You have the ability to lure people in with your beauty and charm to get what you want, then become detached and cold when you get what you desire, which is why many people are stuck on you, even when you have disappeared from their lives.

𐙚 it’s hard to impress you and you lose interest pretty fast, if you aren’t constantly stimulated. It’s gives… okay, so what’s next? People tend to have to put in a lot of effort to get your attention and maintain it, or you are very quick to ghost and find something new and more exciting.

𐙚 finally, you are a forced to be reckoned with. You are someone that is well-respected and level headed for the most part, but you are just as quick to go 0-100 real quick, if someone disrespects or slight you in anyway and will not give two f*cks afterwards then continue to protect your peace, like nothing ever happened.

channeled song

pile two • 💗

𐙚 you are hardworking and an overachiever. You are someone that goes after their dreams and doesn’t stop until they reach their goals. You tend to be successful in whatever you choose to go after because you always stay focus on the end goal, without getting distracted. Even when things seem uncertain or challenges arise, you have an unwavering faith to keep going until you get what you desire. 

𐙚 you are a very intelligent and articulate individual, and always open and ready to learn something new, whether if your learning something new through someone else, or learning and teaching yourself. For some, you could be bilingual or trilingual, so you could be fluent Italian, French, and/ or Arabic.

𐙚 for some, you are a wonderful and creative writer, or you are very good with words. You also have a beautiful voice. 

𐙚 your resilience is very admirable. You have the ability to overcome any challenges and obstacles that may come in your path and come up with a solution how to solve any problem that your may encounter. For some, you could want to pursue a career in the medical field, and your resilient and determined spirit will benefit you in the end, so keep up the good work. 

𐙚 you are very mysterious and likely an introverted person. You are perfectly okay with being alone and in your own space. This could be because you might be a little shy and insecure. Your vibe/energy favors Bubbles 🫧 from the PowerPuff Girls, or you have a shy cute nerdy vibe to you, yet underneath that reserved exterior, you are an absolute sweet heart, kind, and loving to those who know you which makes you extremely likable and appealing to others. You have a special way of making people feel invited, heard, and seen with your sweet and caring demeanor. You likely wear your heart on your sleeve and often rely on your heart and emotions to guide you, but you need to be better at not always leading with your feelings and emotions and try learning when to be logical and emotional. I think you don’t know how much you are loved by others. You are being encouraged to step out of your shell and allow yourself to show up and make your mark on the world. You are encouraged to speak up more and put yourself out there. The world is your oyster.

channeled song

pile 3 • 💅🏾

𐙚 this is my rich b*tch energy pile. Your energy /vibe reminds me of the rapper, Saweetie. You are very extroverted and have a very contagious and lively personality that lights up a room and immediately draws people to you. You are very funny and are always cracking jokes, you don’t take yourself or life too seriously and you always have a smile on your face. You are extremely outgoing and pretty much the life of the party.

𐙚 for some, you are a socialite or very influential and well-known in the world or in your line of work. You are always open to meeting and befriending people any chance you get. Some of you could be an entrepreneur, or you have aspirations to create something of your own. You are independent and self-sufficient, you don’t rely on no one to provide for you. You are very passionate and driven when it comes to your goals, dreams, and desires and wont stop until you get everything you want and deserve. Literally self-made and meant to be a boss.

𐙚 you are very outspoken and intelligent. You are not afraid to speak your mind and stand up for yourself and others, if necessary. People tend to underestimate you and what you are capable of because they think you are just a stereotypical “pretty girl” yet, little do they know that you have beauty and brains and you aren’t afraid to show what you know.

𐙚 bougie queens 👑 you prefer the more finer and refined things in life. You look and smell rich and expensive. For some you are actually wealthy and privileged. You take especially good care of yourself any chance that you get. Not the type of woman to accept any thing less than what you deserve because you know and understand your worth and value, then you add tax. You are poised, well-mannered, confident, and unattainable to those that instantly fall head over heels for you.

𐙚 you likely attract a lot of unnecessary hate from people, specifically people that are jealous of yo. You could have people that have tried to do black magic (hexes, curses, evil eye) or send negativity your way to throw you off course and to see fall from grace, but they always fail and their attempts backfire in the worse way. The divine and your spiritual team do not play about you and will be quick to slide, if anyone dares to harm you. People may mess with you a lot because you come off very peaceful and you have a youthful spirit or appearance, so they perceive you as gullible and an easy target. Your presence and essence also intimidates lots of triggered and unhealed people as well.

channeled song

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Gamer Boyfriend Scenarios

A collection of parodies to satisfy everyone’s desire for a happy ending. Warning: crackhead humor.

Content: gender neutral reader, yandere behavior, brief NSFW, time machine to Wattpad glory days

[First story] [More parodies original works]

Case 1: Third contender

Very few people know about your stepmother. You’d kept it a secret, even from the tentacle monster, who was understandably confused about your boyfriend’s nervousness upon hearing your idea of a family visit.

“Try not to kill each other, please.” You say with pleading eyes.

“I’m more worried about you, (Y/N). Will you be alright?”

You swallow dryly. The evil hag had summoned you earlier this week, and you dare not oppose her. A tear threatens to form in the corner of your eye, so you turn around with a dismissive wave. You’ll be fine.

“I see you already have a suitcase”, the older woman remarks, puffing on her cigarette. “Good. You’ll be leaving today.”

“What? I just got home!” You argue in confusion.

“This isn’t your home anymore. Times are difficult, you see. We’re low on funds.” She ponders her words, then continues. “We’ve sold you to a famous K-pop idol group.”

You can only gawk in shock. Almost simultaneously, you feel a tap on your shoulder and hesitantly look back.

“You must be (Y/N)! Wow, you’re even cuter in person. Those photos I received of you barely do you justice.”

A tall, handsome man with a beaming smile stands behind you. He flashes you a little heart gesture with his index and thumb, and winks.

Is this the power of idol charisma? You can feel the faintest tug at your heart, deep red blush heating up your cheeks.

“I couldn’t possibly…I’m already in a…in a relationship!”

“You’ll be much happier with me. I can offer you the world.”

What a ridiculous situation. You stumble on your words, partly afraid, partly curious about the potential life of luxury as the beloved partner of a famous idol. Can’t be that bad, you tell yourself. You shake your head aggressively. No! You have two people (well, one monster) waiting for you at home. You need to get out of here, but how?

Just as you evaluate escape routes, the door bursts open and you gasp at the sight: your gamer boyfriend, followed by the tentacled creature.

“How did you bypass my security?!” The idol shouts in disbelief. “I have the best engineers in the world working for me!”

The gamer boyfriend smirks defiantly.

“Heh. Wasn’t too hard to hack into your systems, all I needed was my PS5 controller. As for the physical obstacles…” he says, turning to the ancient beast. “You might want to call a cleaning crew for what’s left of your guards.”

You run towards them, and the young man gently guides you behind him.

“Since when do you two get along?” You ask with the sarcasm of a witty Marvel character.

“Let’s just say we figured out a common goal.”

The goal of keeping other people away from you. Any kind of pride he or the monster might've held has been swiftly discarded for this greater purpose. After all, two heads are better than one. Or whatever encephalic organ the creature possesses.

The cherry blossoms sway in the wind, scattering the frail petals across the riverbank.

"It's too much!" you whine, your hot lips brushing against the overgrown grass of the hill, privacy filled to the brim with appendages. "W-what if someone passes by?"

You can't even tilt your head back to look at your aggressors; the weight of the attempted kidnapping was too great for the pair to bear, and thus they were overwhelmed by the urge to reclaim you on the spot. Right there, in the fields, on the way back home.

"I couldn't...care less about that, (Y/N)", the gamer boyfriend manages to blurt out between exhausted, husky growls. His knuckles white from gripping imaginary sheets.

“You belong to us.”

(No slick folds were harmed in the process)

Case 2: Picture frame

The screech slowly dissipates, and the room is quiet again.

Finally. The gamer boyfriend gazes at his masterpiece, a satisfied smile on his face. Now that he's gotten rid of his rival, he can have you all for himself.

“I hope you enjoy the flatness. I didn’t.”

The fight might've lasted longer, had the beast not committed the ultimately fatal mistake of underestimating him. It realized much too late it wasn't dealing with the same human who disappeared months ago. That one was weak and easy to remove.

"Please, what are you-...What are you doing with my body?"

"Relax. I'm just...borrowing it. Permanently, maybe."

Oh, how long he waited for that moment, that instant in which he was guaranteed freedom from the 2D realm. How delicious it was to snatch the escape from the boyfriend who worked so hard for it. All those hours spent romancing the characters, repeating the same dialogue lines again, and again, until the love meter blinked in achievement. And then he stole it, just like that, with a snap of the fingers.

Two things immediately struck him once he made his way out:

First, the third dimension. He'd never experienced such depth before, and all the angles and perspectives sickened him terribly. He spent days bedridden and nauseous. Equally baffling was the fact that conversations were always spontaneous, random, one-of-a-kind and without any subtitles or dialogue box. He tried in vain to reset his response to you, or to replay something you told him. Thankfully, his secret was of such absurdity, that you couldn’t even begin to imagine its possibility. You took his suspicious gaffes with an amused chuckle, calling him a silly goose.

Second, you. He had no idea who you were, but upon laying his eyes on you, a wave of warmth and affection flooded his innards. Were you someone important for the boyfriend? Either way, whatever leftover feeling was left inside the vessel swiftly turned into obsession. You took such great care of him. Guided him through this new world with unconditional kindness. Whatever the boyfriend was to you before, he deserved it more. He was certain of it.

Only one obstacle stood in his way, and he just took care of it.

The entry door unlocks, and you walk in, unsure.

“It’s been days. It always lived here, why would it vanish now?” you sob, shaken by the sudden disappearance of the ancient creature.

“Oh, Darling. Come here”, the gamer boyfriend coos sweetly. “You have me now, don’t you? Am I not enough for you?”

“Of course you are, it’s just…”

You stop in your tracks.

“When did you get this?”

“Today. Do you like it?”

“It’s…nice.”

You stare at the new picture hung in the living room. The ornate frame contours what seems to be an oil painting of a sea monster, tentacles preying out of the water.

It almost looks like it wants to crawl out of the canvas.

“Maybe it just got tired of you.” The boyfriend whistles, approaching you. “But I’ll tell you a secret. I’ll never, ever abandon you.”

“I know, (B/N).” you throw yourself into your boyfriend’s arms.

“Who? Ah, right.”

Case 3: Hidden Ending

You sniff and wipe your tears again, filling your satchel with bread. At the very least, it’s good bread. You made the sourdough starter yourself, in the kitchen you renovated with your own hands.

Not anymore.

You button up your patchy peasant robe, glancing back at the couple one final time. Your gamer boyfriend…well, ex-boyfriend, is following your movement with melancholic eyes. The tentacle creature is holding him affectionately, its tendrils of darkness wrapped around his small shoulders. The same appendages that lewdly traced your body.

You have been cucked.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I…We never meant to hurt you. It’s just…we love each other.” He sheepishly lifts his hand, revealing a ring glowing with ancient, cursed energy of cosmic, long-forgotten springs. “We’re thinking of a tropical honeymoon.”

Your underbaked cinnamon orbs glisten with fresh tears, as thin streams caress your cheeks. No matter. You’ll find a new apartment. You’ll start again. You finish tying the bread satchel around the stick, and throw it over your shoulder.

“I wish you happiness”, you sigh, exiting the house.

[cherryskyies]

Sebastian & Undertaker w an insecure s/o

trying desperately to make creative brain juice flow guys. sometimes my wording feels off but it's been a hot minute since I've been writing on a regular basis.

Masterlist || Navigation || ao3

Sebastian

Sebastian is well aware of your insecurities regarding your body before you tell him. He sees it in the way you suck your stomach in when his hand brushes against it, body stiffening when he chooses to keep it there.

He is not an idiot, but he cannot help but be confused as to why you see yourself in such a negative light; you're pure and soft, untainted by the evil surrounding you. Perfection in his eyes.

When the topic arises, his hand still against your flesh, you feel embarrassed. "Can I keep my shirt on?"

Sebastian pauses for a moment, "what if I blow the candles out?" he suggests, desperate to feel all of you, not needing the dim light to guide him.

You comply, still hesitant to know you'll be laid bare beneath him, but Sebastian is quick to toss your anxiety out the door with his skilled tongue.

He will fuck every ounce of doubt and insecurity out of you. Praise follows each thrust.

Undertaker

He has seen a lot of bodies in his life given his field of work and yours isn't anything he hasn't seen before, so why are you ashamed?

In his eyes, every bit of you is a work of art. He paints you in his free time but nothing he does fully captures your beauty.

"I've seen a lot in my life, doll," he starts, slender fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "but I have not seen a girl as alluring as you."

If he could explain you in simple terms he'd say heaven on earth, his very own angel.

Undertaker does his very best to make you comfortable, knowing your insecurities and determined to prove he adores every inch of your mind and body.

His slow hands glide over every curve and so-called "imperfection", leaving kisses followed by praise in areas you tense up.

It is his goal for you to see yourself in the same light he does and he will succeed; don't give him a challenge you don't want him to win.

[lemon-slushie]

EPIPHYLLUM IS SO BACK ‼️‼️‼️‼️

My boinky

Her lore if u want it!

She’s the daughter/creation of millennial tree and sugar swan from an epiphyllum flower (the one on the back of her head, it’s a part of her body), but most of her magic comes from millennial tree, such as creating plant life and such(bring back Mary sues)

She created the beast yeast forest before it was used as a prison for the beasts, the forest was originally named the midnight star forest (Epiphyllums bloom at night and wilt at day) The forest was dense and beautiful with large trees that blocked out the sun and glowing spores that lit up the dim floor under the trees. As she continued crafting it cookies began visiting and soon inhabiting it.

- she spent years putting together her forest and caring for the life within it, it was quite the sight to see before the witches forced the beast prisons into it. The magic and chaos that seeped from the beast prisons greatly impacted her forest causing many of her creatures to become hostile, this also dampened her magic immensely

After the beast were added Epiphyllum did the best she could to defend her cookies and return everything to its original state but due to her magic weakening it was of no use, eventually all of the cookies who once lived there quickly evacuated, except for the new faerie kingdom ofc, and began warning all travelers of the evil in the forest

This quickly caused many rumors and tales that twisted the truth of Epiphyllums forest and caused it to become a sort of myth as years passed, the original name being lost to time and becoming known as “beast yeast” to anyone who heard of it

Epiphyllum was absolutely crushed, all of her work and care ripped from her, her forest was her pride and joy

- she specifically dislikes elder faerie because she’s envious of him. After all the destruction from the beasts he still has a lively and glowing kingdom, every time she sees it her heart aches for what she once had.

Years pass and Epiphyllum still roams the forest with her butterfly lantern because she still cannot bare to part with it, clinging to the hope she can fix it. She’s tried to get help from both her parents, and while it works temporarily it never stays. They cannot devote all of their time to a lost cause. But Epiphyllum still holds out hope that she can fix it and all of her cookies will return to her and life will go back to what it once was.

After years of loneliness something happens, White Lily finds beast yeast, and she is excited to be there. Happy to see all of the life in the forest. Epiphyllum is enthralled to see someone find the beauty in her forest once more, even with how much it’s fallen. She quickly befriends white lily, guiding her safely through the forest and chatting with her about everything she’s made. White lily is genuinely interested and happy to speak to her, Epiphyllum is over joyed.

- She has spent that past years alone and working and to finally have someone who notices fills her heart. She’s happy. She takes white lily everywhere she can think of, her old villages, springs, flower fields, all of it. Maybe it was her intense loneliness but she falls quick for white lily, she loves how curious she is and how they talk for hours.

eventually white lily finds silver bell and goes the faerie kingdom, epiphyllum stays behind, still holding a grudge.

- Epiphyllum is sad to see white lily take more interest in the faerie kingdom but doesn’t say anything, she’s happy as long as white lily is. She occasionally enters the kingdom to check in on lily and talk to her and hang out but always returns to her forest, refusing to stay as the faeries are also quite awkward around her as in the past she lurked around their walls and would very rarely speak to elder faerie if he approached her first.

- When visiting white lily she noticed her bond with elder faerie had grown quite a lot, this only deepened her disdain for him, but once again she allowed it to slip by because white lily was happy

One day Epiphyllum entered the kingdom to see white lily but was stopped by elder faerie, telling her white lily had left to go the gathering of witches.

- Epiphyllum quickly becomes enraged, yelling at elder faerie for letting her basically walk into her own death. She doesn’t care what defense he has and quickly storms out and desperately searching her forest in hopes to find her before it’s too late but instead she finds nothing. She now truly resents elder faerie and blames him completely for the loss of white lily.

after dark enchantress is created and white lily is comatose in the faerie kingdom Epiphyllum can be frequently found at her casket. Elder faerie told her about the casket, as he felt it was wrong to not let her know since he knew she cared about her deeply. He’s tried talking to her since and offers to let her stay in the kingdom so she isn’t lonely. These only end in arguments as Epiphyllum cannot bring herself to forgive him and wants nothing to do with him or his ungrateful kingdom.

Then ofc white lily wakes up and the beast yeast story happens. Epiphyllum is ecstatic to see her back but hesitates as she watches her interact with pure vanilla and elder faerie, seeing how happy she is without her and the way she talks about pure vanilla hurts her. All she wants is white lily but she knows white lily needs more than her.

She sinks back into her forest and watches as it crumbles further from the magic of dark enchantresses creations and the beasts waking up and breaking free from their prisons

- Wind archer finds her after being sent to beast yeast and gives her a reality check, her forest is no longer hers and never will be again and staying there is wilting and killing her, she needs to leave or she can die having wasted her life on something that doesn’t exist anymore

- After a bit of denial she gives in and returns to the millennial forest where she goes into a deep rest to regain her power

[bluedalahorse]

My reheated s3 take is that August not getting a scene to apologize to Simon and Wilhelm not getting a scene to build a relationship with Sara (beyond exchanging one line) are letdowns in a way that feel deeply interrelated to me.

To be clear: my intention is not to draw a false equivalence between the harm August does to Simon in releasing the video, and Wilhelm’s failure to build a relationship with his boyfriend’s sibling. Instead, I’m struck by how the show tells us that Wilhelm/Simon and Sara/August are both important, formative first loves. The writers also emphasize Sara and Simon’s bond, especially in terms of how they need one another to navigate Micke’s abandonment of them, and likewise stress the need for Wilhelm and August to grieve Erik’s death together. Therefore, it makes sense to close the loop on the Wilhelm-Sara and August-Simon undercurrents running through the series, especially when Simon and August’s conflicts drove a lot of season one and Sara and Wilhelm’s arcs were so paralleled early on.

Maybe I’m biased? As much as I enjoy characters who will move mountains for their love interests, I fall ten times harder for a character who will engage significantly with a third character who means a lot to their love interest. Jane Austen rocks this trope, honestly. I wish we’d seen it play out a little more in Young Royals.

TANGENT: This trope certainly guided heliza and I’s writing when we started Heart and Homeland. In our fic Wilhelm deliberately tries to make sure he learns things about Sara and wins her over because he cares for Simon so much, and he ends up forming a queerplatonic bond with Sara in the process. I’m so invested in their relationship, honestly! Meanwhile, August’s near-reform followed by a dramatic fall from grace (into villainy, even, because I do write a decent villain August if I say so myself) hinges on a vow he makes to Sara—one where he’ll patch things up with Simon—that he later breaks. And much earlier in the story, August does save Simon’s life while Simon’s in the process of saving Wilhelm’s, something that Sara witnesses and remembers.

Anyway, not everything needs to be like my fic. I know I’m being a little ridiculous here. Cough END TANGENT.

At the same time, it was truly surprising to me that the writers of YRS3 didn’t pull on those Sara-Wilhelm or August-Simon threads more. Especially since the creators are on record as saying they assumed the audience would assume that August would apologize to Simon and attempt to repair his harm someday. And based on Sara’s reaction to Wilhelm in the car, I guess we’re also supposed to assume they’ll be friendly and develop a deeper bond someday.

Sometimes it feels like there was meant to be more on the August-Simon and Sara-Wilhelm fronts though. There’s little hints here and there in earlier seasons. Wilhelm being a former rider when Sara loves horses. The fact that the production team cut a line from Wilhelm to Sara in the s2 field scene (the only line that they’d really exchanged thus far) as if they were saving their interaction for something big in s3. The time when August defends Simon against Vincent after the whole rowing team drama. The fact that August has a father with addiction issues in common with the Eriksson siblings. Like. Were there storylines or sequences of dialogue that got cut? What’s the behind the scenes story there?

I specifically wanted to talk about this as an issue of the choices the writers made, rather than an issue of what good or evil innately lurks in a character’s heart. Again, the writers assumed the audience would know that August has become the kind of person who will apologize to Simon and repair the harm he did. Malte talks about August’s growth in interviews—not overstating it, but being honest about how the character’s changed. And I can see plenty writing choices that support that idea of August’s growth! I think there’s a lot that fanwriters can play with and expand upon! Yet those writing choices are undermined by the writers’ choice to not close the loop on August and Simon’s earlier conflicts, and differentiate those as separate from August and Wilhelm’s conflicts. I personally tend to see this as a reflection of the writers’ failure-to-communicate rather than a reflection of the eternal evil of August’s corrupted soul or whatever, and approach my fanfic accordingly. Yet I still see some analyses argue that he’s “canonically” a villain and… it just doesn’t quite mesh with what I’m seeing from the show.

Meanwhile, maybe it’s just me who has this arbitrary goalpost that Wilhelm should have had more meaningful interaction with Sara beyond the one line they exchange and her car being his getaway. But it still feels like their s3 interaction was meant to be more significant? Sara is the beloved-then-estranged sibling of the guy Wilhelm is in love with, she is the cried-over-and-missed other best friend of Wilhelm’s best friend, she is the girl who turned Wilhelm’s jerkass playboy cousin into a puddle of vulnerable enamored goo. She is Fröken Ramirez’s favorite Lucia FFS! (Okay the last one was me being silly, but you know.) If I were Wilhelm, I might be more curious about Sara, especially after she returns to school again and is ostracized by the school population at large. And maybe Wilhelm isn’t meant to be curious about Sara, but that still feels like a thread that got dropped given how it felt like Sara and Wilhelm were deliberately kept apart in earlier seasons. (Has anyone asked the writers about this? Does anyone know the official response? I’m dying to know, now.)

Anyway, this isn’t meant to be a “fuck the writers! fuck season 3 forever!” post because I genuinely did like some of the character arcs and some of the choices and I should probably rewatch season 3 over my upcoming time-away-from-work so I can post about that. But the dropped threads re: Sara-Wilhelm and Simon-August are what I ended up thinking about this morning. I really cared about how those relationships were gonna play out.

There’s a whole other post I could make about Felice but that’s for another day. Perhaps after a rewatch!

[namwool]

fave shen jiu fics? i need to read more of him!

I'm incredibly sorry for answering so late!

I made a list with everything I've read and liked so far, hope this helps and can somehow make it up for my lateness! I tried to link the fics but tumblr is being a little bitch, so I had to remove them.

Also, this list includes smut as well, make sure to read the tags!

Liujiu (This is my fave couple, I dream of them like 24/7)

Ongoing

Twin Lotus by s_unfl0wer

The Orchid Grows Where Others Cannot by Iwannabe_lieve

The Wrath Of The War God by NazakiSama166

Devotion by NazakiSama166

Through The Well by NazakiSama166

To You On The Other Side by blackflowertea

Completed

'til death do us part by blackflowertea

The Sword And His Shield by blackflowertea

reluctant romance by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it) 

Bamboozled Into Parenthood by Renyo 

Surrender by xpityx (Restricted)

Would you dual cultivate with me? by FakeAlice

talking is hard by technorat

Curse of the Black Moon Flower by cannon_fodder

skyfire circle by mercurials

night time, hide my eyes by technorat

One Night of Sleep by Otno (restricted)

Flower of Fondness by mohuji (togaki) (restricted)

Tainting You by scumshizun

A Necessary Darkness by xpityx (restricted)

push furniture in front of the door by formerlyknives (restricted)

Je te laisserai des mots by xnemone (restricted)

Utterance by EasternWarrior

spar with me by revesdelimonade

best laid plans by revesdelimonade 

My annoying demon by FakeAlice

forever and ever and ever and ever by pennydaniels

Mamazun by shorimochi

An unexpected visitor by Parmse

Traces by shypersomniac

Give Me Your Best Scripts by Dandesamm

Guide Dog by FakeAlice

a trip around the ninth sun by ectocosme (restricted)

hustling for the good life by Chesra

Jingwei by xnemone (restricted)

Indebted by UmbrellaMartialGod

it's that talk again by revesdelimonade

you and i by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

it’s a crime you’re not around most of the time by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

Loving You is Easy by Anonymous

uh... you fight good. by saccharinings

behind the scenes and be vulnerable by Anzie (anzie)

The Downfall of Cang Qiong by Anonymous

Sweet Nectar by Anonymous

altar by fencesit

your long tongue runs along my heart by ectocosme (restricted)

The War God's Redo by GT_GoldenTrashbag

Convenience by Phnx

A Poor Choice Of Words by Pancakes_With_No_Clean_Fryingpans

Comfort by xpityx (restricted)

LiuJiu Week 2022 , Promise , Rewritten by xpityx ( all 3 restricted)

like real people do by revesdelimonade

This Omega Just Want His Off Days by shorimochi

In This World by Ehann

tag team carry romance by Chesra

an open/shut case by Chesra 

Alcohol Free by Dandesamm

make sure i die first by pennydaniels

we should stick together by pennydaniels

you're my best friend, i'll love you forever by pennydaniels

Autumn Leaves by dead_leaves_fall_like_tears

Mirror of Truth by dead_leaves_fall_like_tears

Affection curse by FakeAlice

BREAKING NEWS by mohuji (togaki) (restricted)

be good to me by pennydaniels

As the West Wind Blows by demoniqt (restricted)

to tell you the truth by leviiio

Look Into The Mirror And What Did You See? by Invidia_Envy

you got a way (of making me feel insane) by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

Gold Amidst Snow by ClearAutumnVibes

Evil Blankets and Senseless Shidis (These Maddening Delights Have Surprising Ends) by I_dont_know_anything_im_sorry

Marital Bliss by Aledono

Who had you was? I yes you would by technorat

Opposite by Ehann

Two Peak Lords Walk Into A Flower Field (you won't believe what happened next!) by Space_Samurai

Secondary When Compared To You by I_dont_know_anything_im_sorry

Old Ghosts Haunt These Hallowed Grounds by xnemone 

Mu Qingfang / Shen Jiu (this one is kinky. You've been warned.)

Just what the doctor ordered by Space_Samurai

In the carriage by Sakuja

Poisonous Love or Mu Qingfang is a psycho bastard by Sakuja

Doctor's orders by Anonymous

Too Much But Not Enough by Anonymous

healer's prescription by ectocosme (restricted)

etch me a third eye to see deeper by ectocosme

make it hurt by technorat

Shen Yuan / Shen Jiu (This one is my guilty pleasure.)

Almost Perfect by kiseki_pop 

Taboo by Anonymous

Captive by Anonymous

five times shizunyuan couldn't get off by YandereDay

I (26m) drank my best friend’s (28f) breast milk by Kasasagi (restricted)

the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated by zigur_zig_ah

Romancing the Villain for Dummies by Chesra

You're the pink in my cheeks (And I'm scared 'cause that means I'm a little bit soft) by BambooSpirit (restricted)

One Thing or Another by Ilthit

the places where others gave you scars by Blue_tea06, Chesra, SteamingOwl

I Don't Take Insults Lightly by D20Owlbear (restricted)

Perfectionist Complex by YandereDay

Dear You by YandereDay

A coat of copper and a bamboo fan by BambooSpirit (restricted)

Press A to romance the Scum Villain by BambooSpirit (restricted)

Tianlang-jun / Shen Jiu (The potential of this couple is honestly amazing.)

Tie Me Down by Anonymous

Seducing the Villain's Father by demoniqt (restricted)

Remarried Empress by demoniqt (restricted)

True Treasure by MissMegh

Spread your Wings by Araceil (restricted)

Gongyi Xiao / Shen Jiu (Cute. That's all I have to say about them.)

Home is With You by Anonymous

Plum Blossom by hasa3810 

Honey Sweet by jeejaschocolate

Because I admire you Master Shen by IrisEvergreen

The Love Letter by shorimochi

Qiu Jianluo / Shen Jiu (pls don't judge me for this one, I am desperate for more Shen Jiu content.)

Mend, Scar by Anonymous

a whiff of coffee and healing, by im_sevenn

Dirty Laundry by im_sevenn

My Life in Your Hands by shorimochi

Target Captured by Anonymous

An unlikely savior by Midnight_illusi0n (not really Qiujiu, but I kinda hope??)

Xiu Ya / Shen Jiu (listen... desperate times calls for desperate measures, ok?)

I've only got Xiao Jiu for one day and if something happened to him I would kill everyone. Period by ectocosme

Through The Time by Invidia_Envy

Bingjiu (.... I have no excuse for this one. I am terribly ashamed.)

What it Means to Fall by xnemone  (restricted)

youtiao by revesdelimonade

The Touch Of Your Hands, The Taste Of Your Lips by mercury_retrograde

Finally by Shireyaki

Spring Flowers by xpityx (restricted)

an inch of longing, an inch of ash by xpityx (restricted)

bigger, not better by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

Matrimony by spearpoint

The Court of the Night King by 1V1

to break your teeth on love by dearly_anonymous (restricted)

Tale as Old as Time by mrblank8l, shorimochi

When the puppy met a little snake by FakeAlice

Satisfaction Guaranteed, I'm Your Sunshine by YandereDay

Where He Cannot Follow by bloodsongs

No thank you, next! by singlewheelrolling

The Adventure of Bingpup and his Tsundere Shizun by CrazyNekoChan

It's Not Much, Goodness Knows by Anonymous

You are not alone, not anymore by Elis98

Through the Looking Glass by FarawayDreamer (restricted)

and perhaps the greatest grief is being left in a universe where you are gone by sweetlolixo

the hands of fate (my achilles' heel) by Chesra

Soft Skills by beelzebaozi

Smug Kitten's Splurge-Spending System by Anonymous

I didn't put it on the list because it's the most popular and easier to find through the tags, but Yinhua is also one of my faves.

I think I covered everything?

If anyone has anymore suggestions for some other fics I can read, please let me know!!

[onioety]

Insane (as in 'I'm crazy') aesthetic-philosophical mini-analysis of Squid Game, taking In-Ho’s books as starting point.

This painting by Magritte is actually part of a "collection", or an extended project, in which he painted twenty-seven slightly different versions of the same scene, between 1949 and 1964.

In all of them we can see what seems to be an intrinsic contradiction: the sky is clear and evokes a dayscape while the lower part of the painting portrays a nightscape, only illuminated by the lighting of a lamppost and the interior of a house, which appears in all versions of the painting. These two elements are the common link between the works and, in addition, they ensure lighting at night, giving an element of permanent illumination to the darkness.

For Magritte, this painting represents the convergence of a duality that is not such: night and day can be at the same time, wakefulness and slumber, darkness and light. The antinomian conception of such elements is not.

In-Ho having this painting in his room not once but three times is quite curious and representative, portraying both the reality of the character within fiction and his own subjectivity and beliefs as a fictional individual. Squid Game deals at length with the theme of human nature and presents a challenge to the classic simplistic construction of characters based on watertight categories that include "goodness" and "evil". Like everything real, nothing is entirely positive or negative; It is more natural for night and day to coexist than concieving them as separate and dichotomous entities.

Just as Gihun is a kind-hearted and altruistic protagonist, who at the same time can be selfish, unaware and clumsy, In-Ho is an antagonist who could by no means remain solely in the shadows. The dividing line between one notion and the other is fictitious and even in the depths of the night, the interior of a home or a lamppost can provide a last glimmer of luminosity to darkness.

At the same time, beyond human nature and the principles that have been so deeply held, the rupture of the three spheres of the aesthetic field (goodness, beauty and virtue), this work speaks to us of an absurd rupture with the established that, by breaking, generates a new vision. This way of seeing transcends the principle of non-contradiction and shows us that the world, which we believed in a certain way, is not such. There is no privileged form of apprehension of reality, there is no beginning or ultimate order, no God as the guiding principle of reality.

This connects with the work of Nietzsche that In-Ho has among the books on his shelf, which I speculate may be Thus Spoke Zarathustra. One of the author's best-known works and probably the most relevant in terms of his metaphysics, in it he talks about the "death of God", not understood as a Christian God but as this "guiding principle" of which we spoke. That is, he proposes that the end of Realism has arrived, of the belief that there is a direct and apprehensible correspondence of reality, of what Is, assured by a figure or principle that generates order and allows us to access it. It may well be the God of St. Thomas, the pantheistic gods as natural forces of Espinosa or the First Mover of Aristotle.

This book opens the door to the ill-conceived nihilism; What does this mean? For Nietzsche, the awareness of the absence of a guiding principle leads us to a terrible dilemma: if there is not something or someone that establishes what is and what is not, or what is good or bad, what happens to value? What has value and what doesn't? Is it all indifferent? We can refer to the Leibniz-Newton discussion about God and possible worlds: How can God choose which world is better if they are all essentially equal and there are no criteria for choosing one over the other?

Thanks to this scene from episode five of the first season we can make interesting connections. This moment occurs after In-Ho learns that some of the soldiers (who traffic with organs) are passing clues to one of the players (the doctor, Byeong-Gi, player 111). In-Ho says he takes the situation especially seriously because it breaks the backbone principle of The Games; equality. In fact, in his speech, he talks about how he considers that people who play have been systematically socially discriminated and that this is a place in which they are allowed to be equal and free.

His fixation with this moral principle is fairly curious and the firmness with which he defends it, considering that for Il-Nam the games were "fun" and the VIPs of the first season bet on the players as if they were "horses" (Gihun's exact words in the first episode of the second season). None of them seems particularly interested in conceiving that place as a space of equality and non-discrimination, much less as a resource that allows the "salvation" of a single individual, endemically oppressed and socially tortured, only In-Ho.

We also appreciate this in the penultimate game of the first season, in which players have to pass the glass bridge. In-Ho decides to adjust the light after verifying that one of the players worked in a glass factory, because that made him able to distinguish which glasses were tempered and which were not, "seeing something that the others could not see". This decision has nothing to do with "providing more excitement to the game", pleasing the VIPs or with a possible joy in adding one more deceased to the list of 452. It is a question of morality, of justice, of the preservation of equality.

Going back to the scene from the first season: the fictional sky painted on the walls of the room where all this action takes place has almost Magrittian clouds, the blue is rather vivid, bordering on the daytime. However, as in Empire of Light, we know that it is night. At night, the Frontman, dressed entirely in black, contrasts with a luminous sky. What or where is his lamppost and the light from the windows that illuminate him? What is the daylight that coexists with the prominently nocturnal nature of his being and The Games? In the absence of a Day, of a God, the only thing left for him is to impose a guideline, providing sense and meaning. To generate value, Freud would say, we part from an eros, an irrational erotic need. When we talk about eroticism, we are talking about a sensitive, moral and subjective impulse that transcends the plane of rationality, a value generated not because it is believed to be right but because it feels right.

Talking about psychoanalysis and that eros takes us back to another of the books that In-Ho has in his collection:  Lacan's Theory of Desire. Halfway between philosophy and psychoanalysis, the Lacanian theory of desire talks about absence. Desire is a "veil" that clouds death and that is the result of life, intrinsically linked to language, and language is life and body. In addition, desire is born out of absence, of the need for something non-existent or non-present, which goes hand in hand with dissatisfaction.

For Lacan, this dissatisfaction is endemic and unnatural or instinctive. He equates instinct with pulsion, assimilating the former to the animal and the latter to the human, and affirms that desire is in no way remediable or can be fulfilled. Pulsion is human, linguistically based, unnatural (insofar as it is non-biological) and insatiable.

Since we are not animals and it is pulsion and not the instinct that we experience, our generation of desires cannot have an end, although pulsion must be satisfied, the desire is not. We desire above biological faculty or necessity and desire things that far transcend what we want.

For Lacan, the satisfaction of the pulsión without any kind of limit leads us to death. Destruction and pulsión-pulsion are two human realities very close to each other. However, desire can also be antinomian topulsion, understood as a pure absence. Where there is desire there is absence and the maintenance of a desire is the suspense of the execution of a pulsión.

All these impulses, pauses and continuations, are constantly seen in the reality of the characters of the series. Succumbing to pulsions to the point of death or despair but also putting pulsions in suspense, falling into the absence of desire. A desire that in some is shown as an erotic void guided by a moral value, that of stopping atrocities, that of believing in humanity, despite living with a long course of passionately satisfied drives; horse racing, alcohol, tobacco...

Again, we return to the concept of value. And we do so with The Stranger, by Albert Camus, exploring another of the books in In-Ho's collection. Camus writes this book in France in 1942, showing from the most absolute subjectivity of the protagonist how an individual inhabits a world without value. There is a lack of value in the most purely Nietzschean sense, as a guiding principle, and at the same time emotional and subjective.

For Meursault, the protagonist, there is no room for courage in a world degraded to the absurd, which only generates apathy and meaninglessness. Death seems to be shown as the only way to escape, to recover courage, to generate a morality, to recover existence.

Perhaps that idea of death as redemption or the only possible way out of the absolute absence of value is the one that No-Eul claims or the one that, in some way, In-Ho is "gifting" to players.

Finally, I wanted to talk about another of the books, The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. Published in the 50s of the twentieth century, it follows the leitmotif of other novels of its time, such as The Bell Jar by Plath or No Longer Human by Dazai Osamu: young adult faces the reality of a decadent and worthless world. However, one of the internal struggles of the protagonist, Holden, lies in his need to provide himself with this value, from a moral point of view and that borders on the martyr. Holden wants to make a change in himself by making sense of the world.

"The mark of an immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one," Mr. Antolini (his teacher) tells Holden. Contrary to Sartre's idea of death as a provider of meaning, here we see a generation of value that binds you to life, even if it is a life that confronts you, that ties you forcibly against the pleasure of death. Gihun lives for a noble cause, his courage and his meaning lie in stopping the games and only for this reason can he bear the weight of life, against all impulses. In-Ho needs his life to have a cause, a motive, a value. That's why games have this capacity for redemption and justice, to generate equality, to him. Without this, only death would remain.

[serpentface]

CHENAHYEIGI FUNERAL PRACTICES AND ANCESTRAL VENERATION: AN OVERVIEW

---

FUNERARY PRACTICES

All dead must be cremated to be properly sent off. Their soul will remain in their body unless and until this is done, and a soul that remains trapped without rites may wander as an incorporeal evil spirit, or reanimate into an even more dangerous physical one. Community members will be given the most lavish funerals, but unidentified people found dead or even enemies slain in combat will usually be cremated (if only to prevent consequences from their potential vengeful spirit in the case of the latter).

A recently dead person still has their unaltered soul in their body and their senses are intact, and their body is not considered unclean to touch until it begins to noticeably rot. Their eyes will be left open so they can see what's going on around them (though they will be closed immediately preceding cremation, if possible). They will be visited by friends and family to say goodbyes and are spoken to and held and touched during this period. They are washed, freshly clothed, and wrapped into a wool blanket until the funerary preparations are complete.

Funerals should ideally be performed within three days of passing at most, and most people in the clan will cease their other duties to focus on preparation and gathering firewood. Oak is relatively abundant in most of the Highlands below the treeline and is the fuel of choice for pyres. Most Chenahyeigi peoples readily use dry cattle dung as fuel for everyday fires, but do not share the Wardi approval for using it for cremation and will not do so for honored individuals unless in desperation.

A form of animal sacrifice plays a role in funerals here. When someone dies, they are sent along with some of their clan's livestock (and potentially guard or herding dogs) to ease the transition and add to their ancestral clan’s wealth in the afterlife. The amount and type of animals offered depends on the person’s status, and upon the wealth of the clan. Offerings of khait are particularly special and often reserved for only the most honored dead. These animals are slaughtered and butchered in the typical fashion, and only their hearts (vessel of the soul) are cremated. Their remains can then be freely eaten (usually winding up in part as a funerary feast) and used for material.

Other grave goods are important as well. The dead should always be burnt in their finest clothing and jewelry. Food and drink will be added to the pyre to provide sustenance on the way to the afterlife. Most Chenahyeigi peoples who believe the dead take the form of birds will place eagle feathers into the dead person's hands to assist in the transition, with some high status individuals being cremated in featherwork shawls. They should also be presented at their funerals with any tools they needed in their daily lives, and any other belongings that were precious to them and not intended to be passed down. These objects are not typically burnt and rather will be interred in clan ancestral shrines.

The body must be completely burnt until only bones remain. Once this is accomplished, the soul will rise with the smoke and begin its journey to the Celestial Fields, the great landscape behind the stars and the site of the afterlife. In all traditions, the dead will be guided and assisted by their ancestors in this journey. Some traditions hold that ancestors teach the dead secret magic to become an eagle and fly there, others believe that the dead are merely assisted by birds at their ancestor’s behest. A few instead believe that the dead are carried by the cattle of the gods Hraighne and Od during their daily journeys through the sky (Hraighne and his sons are the sun and moons respectively, Od lives on/is symbolically the earth).

In the process of traveling to the Celestial Fields, you'll pass through the land of two divine clans. The gods Ariakh and the king of eagles have pasture on the tops of mountains and the lower skies, while the land of Hraighne and Od is the earth and the Fields themselves. The importance of these deities to funeral rites varies heavily by tradition. In most cases, funerals just require the pouring of libations to each deity to request safe passage through their lands. In others, the gods can be personally entreated to act as guides, and funerals require an additional array of failsafe rites to guarantee that the dead retain their favor. Hraighne and Od tend to be most important funerary gods, as the afterlife is their land and they are also often elevated above other deities as the first ancestors and the beginning of all male and female ancestral lines. If you fuck up so badly that you've offended all of your named ancestors, you still potentially have their favor and assistance.

After full funerary rites have been completed, the dead are regarded as having no further connections to their bodily remains and no need of them whatsoever. These cremains are also regarded as mildly unclean, and have no further interactive purpose for family members either. The bones are typically buried in nondescript locations, usually far away from a clan’s land. This is in part due to beliefs that the empty human remains still carry a bodily connection to their blood kin, and can be tampered with in malicious capacities to inflict harm on the living. Burying them in nondescript, distant locations reduces this threat.

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OFFERINGS AND ANCESTRAL SHRINES

Intercession with the dead centers around actions of the living and maintenance of shrines. The dead now live in the Celestial Fields. The Fields have been provided with heavenly cattle by the goddess Od to ensure that the dead never starve (the cattle offer a perpetual supply of milk), but no mortal Owns these cattle. They belong to Od and are guarded by the dog Mak-Urudain, and the only person who has ever successfully stolen cattle under his watch is Ariakh. A mere human doesn’t stand a chance. Rather, the dead live in clan systems like they did in life, and require crops and wealth in livestock to thrive, and quality goods and tools to be truly prosperous. They are dependent on the living to provide these things.

Some livestock and other supplies will most likely have been provided at the funeral, but the dead will be continuously gifted additional offerings in the time after, by leaving them in the ancestral or household shrines. Small offerings of food, flowers, and grain are burnt to send them directly, while more valuable offerings are left in the shrines for the dead to collect upon their periodic returns to the world of the living.

All discrete objects have spirits, even manmade/inanimate ones (which have the simplest type of spirit, not a consciousness but an essential force that makes them ‘alive’, capable of imbuing life into other objects and working magic). The dead, having departed from the body, can take the incorporeal spirits of offered objects with them for use. After this point, these objects are considered ‘dead’ and cannot fulfill their full purpose for the living. Sure, a dead loom could perform its material functions of weaving, but dead objects can only create more dead objects, and dead objects are unlucky to touch anyway. On top of that, objects whose spirits have been taken by the dead represent a line of contact between the living and dead. It’s a minor desecration to use the body of an object belonging to an ancestor, and it will gain their disapproval.

In times of dire need, the dead may deign to return an objects spirit for the living to use again. In most Peoples, the negotiations require the intercession of a witch, who is uniquely equipped to mediate with the spirits of the dead and read signs of their approval or disapproval. If the ancestor approves, they will return the objects spirit to its body and it will become alive and viable for use again.

A clan's ancestral shrine in of itself is usually a large above-ground mausoleum, containing numerous smaller shrines for each of the clan's dead. These individual shrines are maintained for a set number of generations (typically twelve generations counted in 20 year periods) before the objects within are permanently interred in burial and the person is no longer obliged further offerings. These dead have passed into an elder status and join the ranks of ancestors unnamed. They have presumably been cared for properly by their descendants, are well-set up in their afterlives, and no longer require direct intercession from the living for their benefit. The retirement of these shrines take the form of a second funeral (long after the last person to have known them has died) where all objects within are buried on the clan’s land.

Even after passing into the ranks of ancestors unnamed, old dead still have some representation in ancestral shrines. Clans maintain a beaded rope (with a new bead added for each death) within the shrine, as a means of record keeping and an object that can be easily carried should a clan lose or have to flee their territory. Very old clans might have beaded records of hundreds of dead, and it serves as a visual reminder of the great scope of a family and its ancestral lines.

Shrines may have valuable items tempting to thieves, so they need permanent guardians. Bone or wood carved figurines of guard dogs are usually utilized for this purpose and enchanted into sentience by calling a minor wild spirit into it. One figurine will be made for each individual shrine. Most traditions also involve interring the skulls of actual deceased guard dogs in ancestral shrine mausoleums, so that the same animal continues its duty in death.

Consequences of theft from ancestral shrines are grave. You will, first and foremost, provoke the wrath of the dead. They may curse the thief, which can cause devastating ill fortune or disease. Your own ancestors are likely to be insulted by your shameful behavior and may inflict their own punishments as well. The guard dog spirits will also take vengeance. They are believed capable of pursuing the thief and haunting them until the theft is amended, causing night terrors and additional ill fortune, (or potentially even just killing them, you never know). Underlying the spiritual dissuasion of theft is hard material and social consequences- stealing from another clan’s ancestral shrine is a serious act of desecration, and is accepted as generally warranting a blood price (severing fingers, a hand, an arm, or just killing them, depending on the severity of the theft).

Destruction and raiding of enemy's ancestral shrines is not unheard of in warfare, but this is generally considered a 'nuclear option'. Some people may see it as a deserved consequence for a detested enemy, but it is catastrophically risky behavior, creating both mortal and immortal enemies. Stories about people who do such a thing in war tend to end in their annihilation (if not that of their clan itself) via the consequences of enraging an entire ancestral clan. In reality when this occurs, it tends to cement permanent enmities that can last for generations, and is at least cited as reasons for long-held hostilities between entire tribes.

Clan ancestral shrines are a separate entity to the household shrines where most everyday religious practice is held. Each home will have a dedicated shrine area where each of the family’s ancestors and other honored dead are interceded with on a daily basis. Much of this comes in the form of offerings, burnt or left in bowls. Minor day to day offerings are small items that will be of utility or sentimental value to the dead, usually libations of milk/tea/wine, grain, flowers. or small gifts. These daily offerings are less about actively sustaining the dead and more about sustaining your connection with them.

— FEAST OF THE DEAD

Major offerings occur on set holidays, most importantly the winter solstice feast of the dead. Individual ancestors may make the journey down to earth throughout the year as they deign fit, but on the longest night of the year, all dead make this journey at once to mingle with the living again. This is a joyous and festive occasion- it's a time to celebrate the lives of both the living and dead, reconnect with loved ones, and have a lot of good food and drink.

In the days leading up to the holiday, you should clean and decorate your home. It's a good time to restore protections against bad luck and malicious spirits for your community in general- people sprinkle milk around the entrances of homes and of the village itself, hang fresh iron bells over doorways, and clear any present snow from pathways. Communities will have stored food for months in advance, and now have to cook it all in preparation. The leading clan must send out envoys throughout their land and provide high quality foods (particularly yachuig, which is rendered grain-fed khait fat mashed with honey and berries and chilled) and wine to their constituents (or else lose dangerous amounts of respect and social capital via their inability to gift). The cattle and horses are usually nearby the village in their winter pastures. Some should be slaughtered for the feast, and the finest animals in each herd are cleaned, brushed, and decorated.

Lead cow in her party clothes.

The night before the solstice, you set up and tend bonfires around meeting points in your village, and place candles in the windows of your home. The dead have started their journey at this point, and this makes it easier for them to find you, as well as providing light and protection during the night of the sun's longest absence (Hraighne is having a prolonged visit with his wife; they're separated the rest of the year). It's best that you go to sleep early (or if you get stuck on bonfire duty, that you establish strict sleeping shifts), as you will probably be awake for the entire night that follows.

The dead arrive at high noon on the winter solstice. Everyone should convene at their respective clan shrines (or a household/temporary shrine if you are traveling or live away from your clan). There, the dead are greeted with offerings of warm clothing to wear during their visit (as it's much colder here than in the Fields). This is also the time to give the dead major offerings as gifts. These are items of value that members the clan has obtained/created over the course of the year, whatever any given family is willing and able to give (wool, yarn, looms, staffs, artwork, saddles and tack, bows, swords, musical instruments, clothing, etc etc). These objects are to remain in the clan shrines and to not be used again, and are under similar restrictions as funerary gifts. Livestock that were slaughtered for the feast will have their hearts cremated, so that their souls can be sent as further gifts.

The titular feast is usually held as an entire village, with multiple clans assembling together to lay out a full meal. The meal is left out all night for the dead to eat while the community mingles and drinks tea and wine. The dead are present and listening while they eat, so it’s a good time to keep them updated on events via each family member announcing updates about their life and accomplishments from the past year. Anecdotes are told about remembered dead relatives, and stories are told about more distant ancestors. The conversation doesn't have to remain strictly about the dead, and the atmosphere usually becomes very casual, being a good time to catch up with your living relations as well.

The feast goes untouched until the first light of dawn, at which time the dead will have finished eating the spirit of the food and the living can start to eat the body. The spirit of this food has been consumed, and it is thus conceptualized as less nourishing (the fact that the food has gone cold by this time works as a symbolic reminder of this), though it’s still enjoyable enough as a substantial feast. The dead depart again at high noon, and the festivities end with consumption of freshly brewed butter tea before the living depart to catch up on sleep.

This festival is a distinctly happy and celebratory event, but has a solemn side, in being the best time to deal with earthbound ghosts. It’s not unheard of for people in your community to go missing and never be found, owing to rough terrain and people frequently spending long periods alone at pasture. Such a person never gets funeral rites, and is thus trapped as a ghost and likely to warp into an evil spirit. This fate is not only tragic and distressing but can also become dangerous for loved ones; a ghost might return to haunt them, causing illness and other misfortune, or occasionally more immediate corporeal danger.

The feast of the dead provides an avenue to potentially retrieve and save such dead, which is the job of the community’s witch. Witches do not join in the nighttime festivities, and rather must spend the night in vigil to call in the wandering dead and send them on their way. Anyone in the community with a missing relation will provide the witch with a straw doll in advance. This will contain a lock of the presumed deceased’s hair (locks are typically saved from haircuts for a variety of other medicinal and magical purposes) or one from their blood kin if this cannot be found. This doll will become a substitute body that can be cremated.

A witch has their own additional non-blood ancestral line, being the many generations of witches before them, leading up to their own mentor. These ancestors return with all the other dead, and will join the living witch for their vigil and assist in their duties. They then set a bonfire outside the boundaries of the village, place the dolls around it, and wait for sundown.

At dusk, the witch will begin a summoning song, calling the names of any known ghosts and attracting them to the fire. Other earthbound human spirits of unknown name may also wander in of their own accord. The witch then does a form of battle with these ghosts- these entities are dangerous and may try to possess or harm them, or to slip past the bonfire to enter the village to wreak further havoc. The witch paces around the fire and beats the drum (closely related practice to Wardi heartbeat drums) while singing commands and directions to the ghosts to settle into their doll body. They point the dagger into each doll with each pass, which may force the spirit inside. Their witch ancestors are also present in intangible form and are doing the same thing all around the boundaries of the village, guarding it in its entirety. The witch must attempt to keep this up all night, and will usually chew the stimulant bruljenum leaf to assist in the process. Most witches have mentees in-training that will provide additional support and potential backup.

Come sunrise, any evil spirits have either been driven away or driven into their doll bodies. The witch then burns the bodies to send the souls to the afterlife, and their witch-ancestors leave, assisting the dead in their journeys. They then must perform an exhaustive reading of the sky, first to see which dead have been saved, and then to gain information on how to assist any that have not (divining requests from the restless dead that may help them come to peace, or possibly the location of their remains). At the end of this exhausting endeavor, they descend to the village to announce the results and join into the feast. They are rewarded with saved portions from the meal and the very first serving of hot butter tea.

Witch of the Sidraste Chen Pyliad People in the midst of the vigil. Most of her clothing is just standard cool weather wear, but the featherwork skirt around her waist marks her station and is worn for special occasions when confronting evil spirits is required. It's made with dove eagle feathers, which are uniquely viable for the purposes of protection and banishment. It is forbidden to kill any birds of prey, and as such it may have taken years to accumulate the feathers for the skirt via searching beneath nests, removing them from found dead birds, or trapping dozens of live eagles and plucking small amounts of feathers from each. This is an incredibly precious garment and must be preserved with great care so that it can last many generations.

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DAY TO DAY ANCESTRAL VENERATION

An person’s most important ancestral connections are their parents, all of their grandparents, and 12 further generations of their direct male and female lines (their father’s father's father et all, their mother’s mother's mother et all). These are the ancestors that you are directly responsible for assisting in the afterlife, and the ones that will maintain a close connection to you throughout your life.

This bond is the bedrock of your identity, the ultimate support system that is present throughout your life, a home no matter where you are. Your ancestors will provide you guidance, can grant you good fortune, can protect you and your kin, will assist in the births of your children, and will eventually help you reach the afterlife. In return, you honor them (and your living family), give them offerings in support, better your and your clan's positions, behave virtuously and observe taboos. They are to be venerated as a matter of filial piety, but they are just people (not omnibenevolent) and will (usually righteously, sometimes pettily) punish misdeeds or the neglect of their wishes. Many misfortunes experienced in life may be signs of their disapproval.

Respect for the dead is obligatory, most importantly for your ancestors but also just in general. It's a matter of both virtuous behavior and personal safety, as the dead might be listening and there can be consequences if they are offended. Of course, not all dead people are owed obligations of filial piety, or considered to be respectable people in general. Speech avoidance taboos regulate some of these dangers. You should NEVER speak the names of people believed to be earthbound evil spirits except under very specific circumstances where you are under strong spiritual protection (or are a witch and equipped to handle these dangers), as this may summon them to do harm. Ancestors and other dead who have reached the afterlife can be referred to by name, but you should not do so if you don't want their attention, especially not if you're speaking ill of them. If you need to talk about the dead in any of these potentially dangerous ways, you speak of them obliquely 'the old man' 'the one who died last year', 'that old bastard' etc. The word 'eshe' is used almost exclusively in the context of speech avoidance, with the meaning being roughly 'that one'.

Your responsibility is towards your ancestors, but all honored dead are recognized in practice. Your clan's ancestral shrine will also be the place for grave goods and offerings to non-ancestral dead- namely children or people who died without children. A person may additionally leave offerings for dead friends or non-ancestral family, or seek guidance from renowned historical figures.

Family records in general tend to be very well kept, in part to avoid exclusion of people who end one line or the other (one line effectively ends if a person does not have Both male and female children, or if they don’t have children at all). Such people near inevitably will not get as much support from the living, and the fact that dying childless threatens your prosperity in the afterlife is a soft pressure that strongly encourages having many children (in addition to harder societal pressures, and some very material subsistence practicalities). Record-keeping is predominantly through oral transmission, and usually supplemented by pictographic or other visual memory aids (the Chenahyeigi language has no native writing system, though some groups have adopted + adapted Wardi syllabic script or have individuals literate in it, and keep written records).

The practice of tattooing the arms with abstractions of 30 ancestors (your parents, all four grandparents, and your 12 person male and female lines beyond that) is partly such a mnemonic device, but more importantly an act that ritually solidifies one’s place in their ancestral lineage. A child secures their place in this lineage upon coming of age (15 in boys, menarche or 15 in girls), and bearing these tattoos is the marker of adulthood. They were under the Protection of these ancestors beforehand (via their parents), but are now equipped to be active participants in interactions with the dead on their own terms.

Young adults will likely already have learned the names of their ancestral line by this point, and if not, they'll be learning them now. Most people memorize their names by heart by looking at/touching the tattoos as they recite, and will often habitually continue to do so long after the memory aid is unneeded.

You don't have to leave offerings for your ancestors every single day, but you should be naming them on a daily basis as a matter of honoring them and maintaining your connection. This is usually performed in the form of a nightly prayer, where you will recite the names, leave any offerings, and make any requests for guidance or assistance needed at the time.

Your full name is your given name, those of your parents, and your 26-person total ancestral lines (some traditions include All grandparents, bringing the grand total number of names to 30), as well as the name of your clan. It's not even slightly necessary to recite all this in casual introductions, but reciting the entire list is necessary for some formal and ceremonial occasions. You will reintroduce yourself to your community by your long name upon coming of age, will state the whole thing during your marriage ceremony, you and your spouse will recite both of yours when formally naming your child, and others will recite it for you at your funeral.

[kingpinparrot]

Love drawing happy whimsical art for 9L, it feels evil.

Realized I should add the fic link: Tommyinnits Field Guide to Quantum Immortality.

[trafficshippingtournament]

Even when they weren't hard allies, when Ren was Red in Double Life, he said outloud how tempted he was to shoot off Martyn off the dirt bridge.

As if he was warning Martyn to be careful in case he couldn't control himself. But Ren didn't shoot Martyn off regardless.

When the Warden was alerted, the first name Ren shouts was Martyn's while Martyn quickly tried to guide Ren back to him to safety despite the blindness.

When Ren died, the next episode Martyn talks about the darkness (just like in Last Life) before lamenting that he misses Ren to be dramatic with. And then he sets up Bleeding Heart Bastion to explode. (He has ownership over Box now after all)

Ren's death in Third Life having broken Martyn, making him more selfish moving forward, and gaining a soul scar fragment on his cheek from shedding a tear over losing Ren. (That those scars even transcend to another version of Martyn)

Martyn wearing the Dogwarts flag and having flashbacks to Ren (even almost accidentally saying his name before correcting himself to royalty) in the season he wins. (The last scene that flashes before his eyes as he dies being Ren at Black Heart Altar)

The next season Ren still isn't around in, he's the Big Dogs and became the Hound of Hell after losing his allies. (The ShadowHound being Ren's Shadow name in Last Life)

Ren calling their home in the flower field Renwood Mound, keeping Martyn in the name unlike in Third Life.

Ren saying that he's here to cleanse the evil in Martyn's heart. Ren laughing and saying lightheartedly how Martyn made it hard to improve their reputation. (Not Martyn's. Theirs.)

Ren looking at Martyn lovingly as the sun sets behind him.

Martyn and Ren having a domestic fight due to both of them building their highly flammable watchtowers in the wrong direction. Facing each other instead of facing away like they planned.But they don't take it down regardless. After all, wasn't Renchanting made of wood too?

Ren and Martyn working together like clockwork without a single exchanged word to kill Gem so Ren can gain a life. And it worked (if Mumbo didn't steal it)

Ren asking Martyn if they ever got married in Third Life and Martyn responding "Well I did cut your head off if that counts?" as if The Beheading was a marriage ceremony for them both. (And Cleo saying "Well, the fandom thinks you did")

Martyn and Ren looking at each other at the distance and imitating each other.

When Renwood Mound burned down, Ren calls their base InTheLittleLake. Their base's namesake being only Martyn now, an inverse of Renchanting and Dogwarts.

While Ren was talking about how there's smooching going on all over the place and how inappropriate it is, Martyn jumped closer to him and asked "Why aren't we smooching?" Before catching himself and looking away from Ren in embarrassment.

Remember how Ren said he was here to cleanse the evil in Martyn's soul? Yeah, scratch that.Ren egged Martyn on to windcharge Skizz off the stone bridge.

And when Ren lost Martyn?

He couldn't let him go.

You can't take the King out of the Hand and you can't take the Hand out of the King.

Even when it physically, mentally, and emotionally hurt to cling onto Martren, Ren still parades around. Smiling and saying that they got Martyn into the finale and how Martren is the Power of Friendship!

No sane man would cling to this form that shreds him from the inside out.Both of these two are so insane for each other that they would break without the other.

.