#and I know a lot of these are memories that my source memories would normally mask because the emotions are the same

[gg-collective]

I don't particularly mean this in a "comparing my experiences to headmates'" way, but I have noticed how odd I feel next to our other introjects. The grand majority, if not all, of them are from hyperfixations/special interests-- things which we collectively have a lot of knowledge on. While I am from a series that we read the first book of, skimmed the second, and don't have any access to the third. I don't even particularly consider myself a fictive, despite that being, in all technicality, what I am. To top it off, I am not sure that my source would even be considered "popular" media-- at least, not with systems, as far as I have noticed. It is all a bit confusing, especially as someone who misses people I hardly remember. To feel connected to a life (or, lives), source trauma, and people I only have vague memories of is so... odd-feeling

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwhose (not) random kid

premise. crash landing from the future is apparently your kid, not that you know that anyway... in the form of a mixture between you, and your... supposed counterpart, clues are bound to pile up as to whose child this is.

parts. rosehearts, kingscholar, ashengrotto, al asim, schoenheit, shroud, draconia

cont. gender neutral reader, use of 'mada' which is just 'mama' and 'dada' cut in half for our resident shrimp (aka yuu) staggering 6.1k words woah

note. hello, hello! for a while I don't think I can work on azul's part </3 it's gonna be a very busy week for me for the following two weeks (i can say i am already in hell week) for finals so it might be a while before I can pick his part up hehe. in the meanwhile... here's leona ;) if I can commit to a date for azul, you can check out the posting schedule at my pinned since I will be updated it once i do!

as usual, just comment if you also want to be added in the taglist ^^ if those already on want to be removed you can also drop a comment to inform me!

leona

i should take a bite–was a brief thought that swam through your mind just as you turned a corner to another seemingly endless hallway. the floating lanterns, and candles alike light up in a short flash of dim green when you passed, extinguishing completely when you found another hallway.

in your hands was none other than a doom sandwich from the cafeteria, plucked then fought after its other nineteen siblings in the tray. if you had a word it would probably be chaos, you’d think there was a pyramid of golden bars in the cafeteria from the crowd of students outside before the bell.

there was indeed not.

“shehehe! take this, our protege!” were the humble words of a ghost occupant of the main campus, who had apparently come to view you as an underling of theirs. so if slipping the wrapped delicacy into your hands discreetly with a wink was their idea of a ‘good job’ then who were you, honestly to decline?

out of courtesy you wondered whether or not to inform your friends alongside the large crowd in the front of the room but decided against it because you were in the right mind to not dive first into that… mob and lose your beloved gift immediately.

in short, the students of this unfortunate institution were not above using dirty tactics for a single, stupid sandwich that happens to induce a recollection of memories when eaten (alright, you do see the appeal).

you hid it within the inner pockets of your blazer, lacking the nausea you had through the first few times of travelling through the mirrors as you stepped through and found yourself in the warm, humid air of savanaclaw. thankfully, as with all condiments from the cafeteria, the food would always remain warm.

alright. you did feel a bit dizzy but as were such with certain out of the world aliens like yourself. 

“we’re missing a disk, yuu-yuu!” 

you turned your head at the mention of your name, spotting a few savanaclaw students either lying still with varying pants or grabbing a drink at their own magishift field. a few disks were strewn around the dusty ground but you steeled your gaze at the source of your called name.

politely, you waved. this time, you’re not sure why cater’s nickname for you had extended from the upperclassmen of heartslabyul (well, the first years regard you normally anyway.) then to savanaclaw residents. for a dorm with such virile individuals, they’re still teenagers who like to pick on you, albeit less disdainful and more teasing after you’d helped the dorm out.

before, they were just demons to you!

you nudge your chin towards the many lying around. “there’s a lot of disks around, upperclassmen.” you pointed out, the cheetah eared second year doesn’t even spare them a glance like catching your attention were more of his concerns than a not-but lack of disks. “if you’re asking me to carry one to you, they’re really heavy. i’m sure your magic can carry it well anyway.”

buttering egos must be an acquired skill around here.

cheetah only flashes you a toothy grin, two fangs poking out from under his lips. “nah.” he replied with a shake of his head, patting down the towel slung around his shoulders to the perspiring skin of his neck. “want to be our disk? last time got everyone motivated to be the ones to throw you around.”

“no, thank you!” you bowed politely, turning around at record speed.

he snorted.

“bye, yuu-yuu.”

in hindsight no one would ever be sane enough to be a disk after watching a magical shift game considering it might as well just be a blur of color with all of the spells trailing after it. unfortunately, you were more so dragged into the role and reluctantly accepted your fate.

it was not a fun experience! you shivered, keeping your head straight to the entrance of the dorm as you resumed walking and ignored the disappointed hollers behind you. if you can’t see them, they don’t exist.

a breeze brushes through your legs.

the breeze trips you from your stride.

dazed with confusion, you remained stomach against the ground for a moment. what was that? you wondered after your brief startle, moving to push yourself up from the ground. a frown creases the space between your brows when you regained your stand and spotted the brown dust littering your otherwise, clean uniform.

you sighed when you found that it did not only cover your forearms, but also the front of your entire uniform. you might as well be rolling around on the ground to justify the mess on your clothes. 

this place really hates you.

“sorry…”

jumping ten feet from the air (you wish. you’re exaggerating for good measure.) you whipped your head around, searching from the pitched, misty voice that seemed to chime pretty close to your ear.

… must have been the wind.

the wind knocks you to the ground again when you moved forward despite your initial dumbfoundedness.

when you raise your face that once again planted to the ground, you are not greeted by the air you expected but rather than a pair of green eyes that was not familiar in the slightest when you pair their shade of hair alongside the irises.

“i’m sleepy. can we take a nap?” 

you gaped, horrified at the scare. “WHAT IN THE WO–”

‎⎯⎯ . . . ‎

grim on the other hand feels like he’s in heaven.

setting aside cans of tuna’s under your bed felt like a mastermind plan he’s been devising for weeks, there was no way you’d discover the pile below! he chuckled to himself. at last, with you away for the night (he assumes you are, since you’re goin’ over to meet that overgrown cat!). grim is at least thankful for this one time that leona kidnaps you away from him.

with his feast laid out in front of him grim spares a loud cackle that shook him with so much please that warm puffs of smoke slipped through his canine teeth, the blue fire larger with his laughs.

now i can eat! finally! after weeks! he cried in his head.

grim was just about to leap in to tear through the metal can to ravish his meal but instead startled upwards at the sound of a door slamming against the wall he worried the entire building just might come down on him for a second.

dust flew down from the ceiling and floated on the top of the cans. grim’s flames roared brighter in response to his otherwise perfect evening.

myaaahh! it’s just one foot on it. he thinks to himself, dimming at the thought of facing your fury. you sounded angry considering you literally slammed the door despite knowing it would challenge the stability of this… dumpster! his anger doubles down into satisfaction considering he took it upon himself to indulge in this feast up in the attic.

where you, after spotting the state of dust during the first few days, remarked to never step a foot in there again with a sneeze.

grim sneezed, then sniffed. it isn’t his sense of smell that matters now anyway, but his sense of taste!

though that fleeting sniff has him sniffing again, having caught a whiff of some scent that’s not familiar in the slightest. spicy, earthy with no traces of your own unique smell that divides you from the other students grim refers to as ‘nobodies’.

but slightly familiar.

he just about jumps to the ceiling with how shocked he was from the sight of the door leading down from the attic quite literally flew from its hinges to the air, falling heavily down the corner of the space with a wave of sound, and dust that momentarily blinds grim who coughed at the overwhelming amount of particles he had inhaled in the wake,

“ah!” grim yelled in surprise, ears folding back. he shuffled to the other side of the room, body reared back defensively.

he does not know what’s worse, these acts of anger involving the furniture having you as the source or… the savanaclaw dorm  head that had just climbed the steps to the attic with begrudging slowness.

leona wrinkles his nose at the smell, turning his head to the side with a displeased expression plastered on his face. at the very least, the monster is intelligent enough to read that he’s less than in a talking mood. “you,” he all but growled, ascending the steps fully.

“m..me!” grim huffed, trying to look intimidating by the puffing of his chest. “this is private property! my henchman owns this place!”

the lion waves him off. “don’t care. whatever they own is mine, whatever i own is theirs.”

another menacing step from the male has grim blanching and scurrying back. until he feels the dusty expanse of the wall brushing against the tip of his tail comfortably, he at the very least makes sure the flame doesn’t accidentally get the whole building catching on fire. if he didn’t you’d be far scarier than this leona right now.

well… except this leona is the one enticing fear in him right now, not the imagination of you.

what in the world did you do to this guy? he thought frantically. he would have thought leona was immensely content with the fact that you were visiting his dorm like he was every other time. did you fight? why was he even here? did you throw him under the bus?

right. grim might have eaten one of the chilled meat inside the savanaclaw fridge–only finding out it was leona’s right after he spat out the wet piece of paper with his name stuck onto it but…

“you know why i’m here?” leona scowled, not bothering to crouch down to the monster’s height. such an action was below him, that’s why he only peers down through his lashes at grim who confusedly shook his head.

he mocked, voice coming out stuck between a low rumble, and a growl. “your ‘henchman’ owes me now, makin’ me wait all that time and being a no show.”

as if to showcase his irritation, his tail flicked sharply. ears pulled back but twitching at every little sound like he expects to catch yuu in the action of hiding from him or something. grim begs to differ because he has no idea where you were.

it must have shown on his face but leona refused to be in the dark about your whereabouts. “so,” he squinted, flashing a canine tooth. threatening all the well, and of course less than happy. “if you tell me where that herbivore is, maybe i’ll spare you from the storm that’s coming to them.”

more like tell me now or you’re not gonna like what’s gonna happen next! grim cried in his mind.

leona tilted his head, eyes skimming from grim to the surrounding room. “or maybe i can just bring the storm here? this place’ll be nothing but a poor imitation of that scarabia with all the sand i’m gonna leave it in.”

“you can’t destroy ramshackle.” grim protested. “this is my–yuu's home!”

the male waved him off. “i’ll just rebuild it into somethin’ more suitable for them. easy.” briefly distracted after entertaining a thought, leona’s face smoothed down into blankness. “they can just stay with me.”

leona was in for the worst mood in the century when two whole hours after your designated meeting time at his dorm, like usual which you almost always upheld by being there in the first place, sometimes a little late but nonetheless present.

initially one hour was the most he was willing to wait. then leona thought to spare you another gracious hour before he eventually begrudgingly stood from his already comfortable position to the bed to look for you himself. there was no way he was going to pass up on quality sleep.

not that he would’ve tolerated waiting for five more minutes for others, much less an hour then two.

unfortunately. it was just you.

he flicks your forehead twice. “that’s for being two minutes late.”

you frowned at him. 

he shook the memory off before it can fully be the pin in the inflated balloon he currently calls his emotions. he’d flick you more than one twenty times that’s for sure, until the only thing you’d remember was him, even though leona knows his finger would lose the force by the third flick and you’re simply just feeling him poking you.

“anyway,”

“yuu ain’t here. they went to meet you, didn’t they?!”

“that’s right.” his eyes narrowed.

“then it’s not my fault they didn’t show for your attitude!”

leona grinned and stepped a foot forward with a bit more force than necessary, creating a stomp that promptly startles grim. “what did you just say?” he taunted, daring. say it again.

he sidestepped the ball of blue fire that came from grim’s teeth. “i’m telling yuu.” he said off-handedly.

grim panicked, straightening and sitting in a manner that was almost docile. “no!”

the man scoffed at the silence that settles into the air. your little partner was useless when the only thing tying him to this college was you and the audacity to not ensure your safety boggled him so much leona was almost tempted to transfer you over to savanaclaw despite your countless denial.

better to be safe than sorry. he thought. he would rather you be safe than him be sorry.

one glance at grim and of course the yapping he’d been doing the entire time, leona concludes that this little thing wasn’t any better in the where in the seven is yuu department. the only thing he’s irked about is that he went all the way here–that you somehow made him go all the way here.

he pinches the bridge of his nose, turning on his heel and sluggishly descending the steps from the attic. he must be going mad.

grim does not bother to muster up any form of courage to ask where leona was going, he already knew.

he could only think about what was gonna happen to the poor soul called you.

on his way navigating through your sad excuse of a (temporary) home, leona can feel the presence of your many spirit friends staring. to some extent he understands why, he did almost bring the entire dorm down since his arrival and he hasn’t even used a drop of his magic yet.

they can at least be grateful he shut the door on his way out.

leona momentarily thought about simply using a transportation spell to get him to the mirror chamber, from ramshackle to the main campus… it was quite a far destination to go through back to back. maybe he should think about hitting up a mage who excels in mirror transportation.

whoever made the mirror chamber. for your convenience.

wait a minute. why should he be worried about your convenience when you just about stood him up?

leona decides against the spell. it was complicated, and his thoughts was not in the right place to focus on converting his body and mind at the same time. he reckons he might as well be sending himself to somewhere farther with his state of disarray.

all the way to the mirror chamber, his face was etched into a permanent scowl. leona only ever kept your notifications unmuted, so a buzz from his phone has him reaching and opening it immediately.

one new message from chek–

he shuts the phone as his perpetual scowl deepened.

if seeing leona actually roaming the halls and not dozing off somewhere was a surprise, his face was practically a loud sign warning to stay away. that’s exactly what the passing students did, spared a glance, double checked, then steered clear from his way without another attempt at gossip.

they knew he could hear whatever they were saying. not that he cared enough right now.

the strange feeling of getting transported from the mirror chamber back to savanaclaw shortly takes all thoughts from his mind before it returns as he registers the familiar feel of his dorm, soothing but not quite home. home would more so be a person to him than a fleeting thing like a place.

like…

“dorm-leader!” 

“welcome back!”

“what were you up to, dorm leader?”

a chorus from entirely different people sound from the therianthropes likely practicing for a match that was ages away. such was the spirit of savanaclaw students that want to excel in one singular area like magishift when they put their mind to it. leona can atleast say he feels the same.

the long sigh he emitted was a quick sign he was annoyed, a sign that his dorm residents have learned to read over the years. they doubled down from their excitement at seeing him and settled a bit more pliantly.

most probable thing tied to his temper nowadays was probably you.

a lynxes’ ears twitch as he recalled seeing you earlier, talking to cheetah. so why was the dorm leader mad? “leona-senpai.” he started cautiously as the male walked past him, not sparing him a glance but definitely listening.

leona thought lynxes was just greeting him until the other continued. “you here to see yuu-yuu?” 

he stopped in his steps, the slow swing of his tail betraying the nonchalance plastered across his face. from the way he turned his head over a shoulder a little was his own universal gesture of urging someone to continue.

despite a moment of excitement at the prospect of his dorm leader paying attention to him, lynxes relishes it quickly. “yuu was just on their way to the dorm.” he continued as cheetah perked up at the mention of the name. both of them do not think too deeply on the obvious uncoiling of the tenseness from leona.

cheetah nodded along. having resigned to resting by one of the bleachers seeing as he’d been playing for over half an hour. “yeah. the little human dropped by earlier with their scrawny self smelling good.”

at leona’s critical eye, cheetah back tracked. “like food. i’m sure it was for you, leona-senpai.” he huffed, sharing an incredulous look with lynxes. geez…

the only really scary thing about yuu was the fact that you’d managed to wrap their dorm leader around your fingers like it was nothing. you seemed like you weren’t even trying anyways! you were just… there, and it’s like leona’s the one keeping you close even though he was notorious for, well. doing nothing.

“where’s the herbivore?” 

“they were on their way to the dorm.” lynxes replied.

cheetah sighed wistfully. “what a shame, really. was really looking forward to yuu-yuu playing magishift again.”

lynxes snorted. “doubt they can even hold up the weight of the disk alone.”

“i meant as our disk like before, doofus.” cheetah nudged him., lynxes scowled lighty at the name. both of them chorus a farewell to leona who had already started retreating after catching the answer to his question. if you were here, while he was over at your place… was that a waste of time then?

perhaps.

he can’t feel a bit annoyed. at the timing–then at the fact that he feels relieved.

leona only grunts in response, his own unique way of a thank you that eliminated the unnecessary need for words. good thing his dorm residents understands his non-verbal cues at least, more so you.

you had an uncanny ability to detect quite a lot about him since, well… the more time you spent together. you said he was grumpy when he doesn’t do anything–which is insane considering he doesn’t do anything at any given time (you just mean he’s grumpy all the time.) and when he asks, you only mimic the look of ‘his grump’.

a response to you. “i don’t look constipated.”

a response to him. “so you’re saying you look constipated?”

the man stepped into his dorm, a certain haste in his steps that does not drain his energy but makes him feel more alive with each assuming step closer to you as he directs himself into the wide area of savanaclaw to his own room.

he barely registers the murmurs of greeting that fly his way with each dorm mate that spots him roaming the halls. of all students in night raven college, it's his own that are most brave enough to still spare him a greeting even if he seemed not in the mood. of course it is, only his dorm doesn’t have cowards.

not that he’s not in the mood anyway. a few minutes ago, sure. but now? he’s begrudgingly unable to deny the anticipation that threatens to lift his lips.

unfortunately he passes by ruggie who immediately walks backwards with his pace to annoy him surely. “leona-san.” he greets with a grin, resting his hands behind his head and skillfully ignoring the incoming obstacles called people.

thanks to his reputation around, the greetings to leona are also mixed in with a ruggie-senpai, or a ruggie-san if it happened to be a first year.

leona gave ruggie the stink eye. “leave me alone.” he grunts out, impatient as he walked.

ruggie makes a show of letting his eyes drift down to his legs. wider steps. “you’re in a hurry.” he observes slyly. compared to other openly tactical students–ruggie was subtle to himself, never quite revealing any cards until the very last resort. one of the reasons leona kept him close. “didn’t know there was anything exciting in ‘vanaclaw.”

the hyena chuckled to himself, raising his brows at a passing sweaty student who was on the verge of a brawl with another.

“don’t care.” replied leona.

“been gone for a while.” ruggie threw back. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you mope around in your room for so long, and tail it out.”

by the time leona finally spared him an irritated glance, he was speaking again. “so, did ya find em’?” ruggie didn’t need to be told what form of craft had leona rising from his comfortable coffin and going venturing out. its you, always has to be you somehow. be it in savanaclaw or elsewhere.

“no.” he rolls his eyes, finally opening the door to his room about to turn back and shut the door in ruggie’s face–but that was when he expected to see you pliantly sat on his bed and waiting because you owed him that much.

leona stops. staring at the empty space of his bed. he looked around the room, no sign of you but a whole lot signs of ruggie which wasn’t what he was looking for at all.

so he doesn’t care who’s been snooping despite the shameless animal behind him if it didn’t have anything to do with you.

“you came back, empty-handed?” ruggie quirked a brow, dropping his hands from his hair and tugging at the signature scarf of his dorm around his neck with a glance around. “gee. it's hot in here.”

leona pinched the bridge of your nose. whatever semblance of a good mood he had moments ago was thrown out the window when he found–that you were indeed not here in his room where he expected you to be. where else? you weren’t too buddy-buddy with any other dorm mates besides jack, and jack was in his room when he passed it.

you weren’t there either.

cheetah, and lynxes… he sighed in his mind.

“look for that herbivore in each corner of this dorm.” he sniffed, shaking his head.

leona pauses.

he sniffs again.

a scent of yours invades his nostrils, calming his rising temper to a halt suddenly. he stops, and looks scrutinizingly around the room with key focus. you were in here, somewhere. leona took a step closer to the bed, following the warmer tinges of your smell.

he took a right. it faded slightly so he went back.

by the time he was hunting for you, ruggie curiously took a deep inhale and wrinkled his nose. “ack… now this place smells like yuu-yuu. to think i thought them smelling like you was bad.” 

it was true, the scent was particularly stronger than it should be. had he not noticed? the closer he walked to the bed, the stronger the smell was. with each step it practically swirled around in his head to the point where he could just sleep deeply in comfort, tricked into thinking you were laying right next to him.

like you were next to him,

leona stops by the side of his bed, narrowing his eyes at the crinkle of his sheets.

he stared closely until it seemingly squirmed at his intense stare, shifted a bit to the side like there was someone on it and leona’s hand shot out above the area. surprised to feel a limb, ankle perhaps? fit loosely within the confines of his palm.

“gotcha.” he whispered in triumph, tugging at whatever he had grabbed. it felt like a body, a potion perhaps? it didn’t quite feel like you, leona would know how you feel because he felt you in his soul.

leona, and ruggie stared in startle when the air flickered like translucent mirrors that reflected the light, and warped into something entirely.

“a little kid!” ruggie shouted in alarm, scurrying to leona to take a closer look.

the kid in question was… weird. more specifically, they smelled strangely familiar which was strange in the first place. leona leaned in, to which the kid squirmed when he inhaled deeply from the steady pulse of their adrenaline from their neck.

“who are you?” he all but growled, ruggie grimaced at his tone of voice like he was judging the way leona dealt with kids. surprisingly, unlike the usual intimidated bundle they only look vastly annoyed, like leona was a bother.

safe to say the man picked up on that as well.

they turned their head stubbornly. “you’re ruining my nap time!” they exclaimed–it was official. he was a bother. green met green and leona faltered when a haze of confusing familiarity stared at him right in the eye.

he glances at the pair of ears, a ribbon wrapped just below the fluff of hair at the edge of their tail. they must have sensed it because they huffed at his face.

“jealous?” they said at his stupefied face. “mada gave it to me earlier when i found them.”

he doesn’t know who mada is but they have terrible taste.

“a lion therianthrope.” leona observed.

“obviously.” the kid replied.

the former’s face soured, the latter snickered.

“looks like a baby you, but more sassy.” ruggie quipped.

the room pauses. first of all, leona briefly remembers the scent he was following and quickly determined that while this kid was swarming with your smell, it still wasn’t the strongest in the room. second of all, why?

“oi,” he grunted, rearing back when they swiped at his face at the prolonged proximity. “keep your claws in. you better have a good reason why you’ve been keeping my herbivore from me.”

“mada is mine!” retorted the kid with a distasteful scrunch of their nose as they turned their head away from the man, closing their eyes as if it was giving them a disability to look at him any longer. who was that?

leona’s eye twitched and one glance at ruggie quieted the hyena from an ongoing cackle of glee immediately–though he didn’t seem too prone to stopping considering his alternative was looking away so leona doesn’t see his grin.

contrary to the proud stand of the child’s ears, leona’s own flattens in response and he has to remind himself that he’s above chucking random kids who happen to smell like you out the window. “i don’t know who your mada is but–”

“mada is mada.” they huffed.

“...”

leona was quite forced to drop the little ‘rascal’ or so he thought when they feigned a bite at his arm. they plopped down back onto his bed, body too little so they bounced off a little. then… they scurried from the edge, away from him all the way to the edge and grasped at air.

literally holding onto air, fingers clenched around something.

his eyes sharpened. “what else are you hidin’?” he queried at the kid who boredly stuck out a tongue but hid back when his scowl deepened. to some extent he figured it was you, a quiet dispel incantation in his mind sent a wave of magic and the air flickered again to reveal the suspect of his most eventful day.

yuu. you. whatever

you looked like you just got caught hiding beneath a bench in broad daylight, your eyes drifted to the child and hilariously enough, seemed as though you also wanted to hide behind them. “novu…” you murmured lowly, as if all three therianthropes in the room could not hear you clearly. “you said i have to keep quiet and he won’t find out!”

novu blinked repeatedly. their demeanor falling slightly with the curl of their ears, they seemed strangely docile compared to the half bothered demeanor that was in the face of leona. “papa always finds us when we hide.” they whispered back, pursing their lips. “he’s a cheater interrupting our nap!’

you nodded vehemently. “true, he is.”

ruggie coughed. “wait, wait… about leona being this kid’s… papa or a cheater?”

“...”

“both!” replied novu cheerfully.

this time you seemed to be in jetlag to process the information, staring at novu’s face before it shifted to leona. “huh,” you murmured. they kind of looked alike, from the eyes, to their seeming shared feline traits. “HUH?!”

you sat up immediately, hands shooting to the small shoulders of novu who perked up–instead of being offended by your sudden startle they seemed incredibly pleased and nuzzled into the warmth that seeped from your palms through their top.

“what do you mean papa?” you swallowed. suddenly feeling incredibly nervous, especially with the heavy aura leona is emanating behind you, you really don’t want to turn around and see what kind of expression he’s wearing on his face. 

the urge to shake the kid who had technically kidnapped you from the forbidden thing called crashing leona time then happily insisting it was novu time now. just a few intentional widening of their eyes and you begrudgingly followed them along to leona’s room which was surprisingly devoid of the man himself.

just from the small bits of his, and ruggie’s conversation when they returned you easily concluded he came looking for you.

and… well, you don’t really want him to see you at the moment when you unintentionally-intentionally blew him off.

you meant. it’s fine, right…? you do spend a lot of your time with him, so just a few hours wouldn’t be too bad.

everything is not fine! you screeched in your head. any hopes for respite from these two were promptly thrown out the window when novu’s face soured when they glanced at leona.

“papa doesn’t share you with me, so i have to take you first.” novu said proudly. at this point the hands on their shoulders weren’t enough so they climbed on your legs and slumped against your front, distinctively making a sound of contentment as they relaxed.

befuddled, frazzled, more words relating to perplexed ran through your head as you confusedly wrapped your arms around the little figure and pet the top of their head. novu seemed especially pleased when your fingers neared the fur atop their ears and even rubbed their head against yours in what seemed to be affection.

still shocked to oblivion, as in my soul just left my body you turned your wide eyes to leona who, to your surprise, did not bear a face of grump but a more unsettling blankness that cleared any semblance to emotion really. he stared intently at your head, obviously ignoring the disappointed look ruggie is digging to the side of his.

the hyena–when he caught your gaze also spared you a shake of his head as if he was non-verbally insulting you with an insinuation of something you haven’t even done, or yet to anyway.

you had briefly caught snippets of their exchange during your small interaction with novu, leona growling out an out which left ruggie no chance to deny but concerned enough with the new addition being seen to close the door on his way out.

when leona finally spoke, he furrowed his brows at novu. a flicker of annoyance at the sight of the clear coddling of the little one against you and the fact that you welcomed it. “i don’t have any kids.” he huffed like it was obvious.

novu did not open an eye but spared him a reply. “i don’t know how you and mada made me but you’re my only papa, and they’re my only mada.” despite their previous acts against leona, they were oddly proud of proclaiming themselves as his child.

leona raised a brow. he reluctantly softens, or instinctively you’re not sure.“you’re not from around here, are you?” he quipped. the bed dips under the new weight as he settled down next to you, surprisingly restrained enough not to pluck the kid out of your grasp and take their place.

he leaned back against the pillows, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

“i’m where i’m supposed to be.” sniffed novu, a lower tilt to their voice trailing off that spoke volumes about their state of consciousness. “with you, and mada.” 

novu nuzzled against you, shifting slightly like they wanted to wriggle out. you retracted your arms to your sides and they sighed deeply when they settled in the middle of the bed, eyes still closed and breathing evening out.

“don’t leave me for so long.” they yawned.

you blinked.

leona kept staring at the ceiling.

why was he so docile?! you were still trying to wrap your mind around it all!

“goodnight.” you muttered dumbly.

you turned your head to point a sharp gaze at leona–who sighs, feeling your stare and grumbled under his breath.

“night.” he rolled his eyes.

the room lapses in silence from a while, bathed in the dawning set of the sun. you considered stealing a blanket from leona’s drawer but decided against it, considering the dorm is still quite humid even at this time of day, if you were at diasomnia you’re sure you’d have frozen to death even with a pile of them on top of you.

you snuck a glance at the elusive novu, their energy burnt out as they fell to a sound sleep, occasionally their ears twitched when your body shifted the slightest bit, reaching out as if you keep you from going.

aw. you kept still.

“is this my future?” you sulked to yourself, sighing as the weight of your shock faded into the air and left you slumping against the bed.

“is it so bad?” leona commented after your remark faded a bit.

you crossed your arms, sneaking a glance at him. “they’re cute.” you referred to novu.

not an answer to his question. leona thought in irritation, you always did have a way with a head made up entirely out of air. then again, his might be as well if he’s taken such a deep liking to you that prevents him from letting go–that in the first place was demented of him, he was not clingy.

leona does not entertain the pictures that his mind conjures to rebuke his denial of fondness in physical form.

sleeping on you, teaching you chess, keeping you close? that was just him collecting pieces to discard.

sure.

“just sleep, you’ve been looking for me all day, right?” 

leona closes his eyes. “i have.”

he’d just have to give you a reason to look forward to seeing a novu again.

‎⎯⎯ . . . ‎

by the time you woke up there was something draped around the bed.

you instinctively patted the space next to you, not feeling the strange feel of novu but the hard plane of leona’s cheek. he does not swat at your hand but spares you an annoyed scowl. you note that he’s… well, a lot closer than he should be even with the missing space of novu between your bodies.

oops. the only thing to pull leona out of a grumpy mood in the morning was a meal. you clearly did not have the current power to do so as you had… fed the doom sandwich to a pouty novu.

thankfully ruggie popped in, barely blinking at your sprawled figures on the bed but more surprised at the missing recent addition. “where’s your lovechild?”

jack’s voice rose from the hallway. “their what?!”

“get out.” leona sneered. “you’re ruinin’ my morning.”

it wasn’t already ruined?! all three of you cried in your minds.

trivia

their unique magic is “from where do you see me?” which you might already guess is being able to conceal themselves in thin air, alongside a thing, or person they have to be directly touching as they’re still young, and inexperienced to properly control their unique magic without a medium.

novu is written to be an equally cheeky 7 year old that happens to take naps very seriously, and not so energetic when deprived of sleep (i’m trying to write all of the children to be generally gender neutral lol but i do have a ‘implied [gender]’ next to their names in the draft lol! as you might guess, alice is feminine… but what about novu?

a second italicized word means that it was novu! for example: ‘must have been the wind’ is really just the wind, whereas: ‘the wind knocks you to the ground’ is the cheeky novu!

cheetah, and lynxes are not their actual names. just called them what they were, which is an actual cheetah, and lynxes therianthrope who both respectively belong in the family of big cats.

unlike alice who was on a clock during their time in the past, novu wished to sleep well and was sent back in time to find you so they can enjoy a lengthy sleep as the future you had not returned home alongside future leona due to a political exchange.

so once they finally fell asleep, they will eventually return.

yuu hid the sandwich and tailed it out of the cafeteria immediately, not wanting to stick around to know that one of the non-humans with crazy senses smells it on them and decides to target them!

ruggie usually doesn’t comment on the weather of savanaclaw but he does say “its hot in here.” because it felt warmer compared to the outside, which didn’t make sense. it was very much due to yuu, and novu in the same room.

magical shift disks are known to be heavy in weight alone, that’s why it's mainly used to direct imbued in magic. yuu did, actually get roped into a game by being a disk which was… an experience.

jack was supposed to be hear but i missed the bullets where i outlined him LOL

writingerror on archive of our own inspired partial parts of this work (as well as me writing once again honestly) which includes the interactions with students to yuu, as well as the.. yuu being a disk part which is a chapter in one of their works!

the reason why leona’s ‘morning’ is not ruined despite him already being bothered first thing is due to you!

🔖: @lostsomewhereinthegarden @staplertwst @rinis-reality @rhyzoma @iamprodigious @irzali-imagines @glitterandgoldfinds @luna-looniesblog @wokasiv @readrecieptoff @miyaswmire @dakissomewhere @yourfavouritecitizen @rei-vii @colombia-chan @ceramic-raven @leitor-sonolento @night-shadowblood-writes2 @ms-shroud @bju3c0re @usernamesarehardtomake @wonderlandcrown @los3rtown

[5starssz]

All For Me

Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Your two year relationship with collegiante basketball star Paige Bueckers ends suddenly in both of your senior year. You couldn’t seem to detach yourself from her even though Paige had seemed to move on. Once you graduated and Paige was doing her 5th year, Paige finally realizes what she lost.

All For Me- Mariah The Scientist

!Warnings! Angst

Purple= Paige

Pink=You

All For Me-Part one

One Year Ago

“Why are you doing this?”, my voice was low, heavy with all the emotions I was forced to bear in that moment. No one expects the person they thought was THE ONE to break up with them on a random Wednesday in December at 2am. Paige sat across from me as we both sat on the floor of a tight hallway in her residence hall. It was an empty hallway with no dorm rooms where we would meet. Paige’s eyes shifted down to the ground, avoiding eye contact with me. “I just can’t do this anymore”, she bluntly stated. “You’re lying Paige, i’ve done nothing but be the person you needed. I grew for you Paige, we grew together. What can’t you not do?!”, you emotionally explained. My voice being unstable due to the puddles forming in my eyes. Paige lifted her head, eyes dialed on mine. For once I couldn’t read her. There was nothing behind those blue eyes that were once filled with love. “I’m sorry”, was the last thing she said to me as she got up and walked off. ‘I’m sorry’ the last words I thought would be exchanged between us. I sat in the same spot until 4am hoping she would run back to me and say she didn’t mean anything she said, i really hoped. She didn’t.

Current

I woke up in my small disheveled apartment to my phones alarm sounding in my ear. Ive lived in this apartment since my Junior year of college. I had a showing for a house that’s up for Sale about thirty minutes from me. I did my normal morning work routine: Brush my teeth, skin care, makeup, hair, and fish for an outfit. Luckily last night I felt like being organized and picked my work outfit the night before, a grey pant suit and some black heels. I hated my work attire but I gotta do what I gotta do. I headed out a few minutes early so I could grab a coffee before I had to drive to the house. My normal coffee shop was closed so unfortunately I have to venture onto campus for coffee. ‘I’m praying i don’t see anyone’, I say to myself knowing exactly who that ‘anyone’ was. The drive isn’t far, which was the goal when I first rented the apartment. I parked in a parking lot next to the shop, walking in and immediately being hit with the scent of coffee and pastries. Due to my amazing luck, the line was extremely long. “fuck it, a girl needs her coffee”, i said quietly walking into the line. As I stood in the line I heard a large group of people laugh, it didn’t catch my attention that much to pull my eyes off my phone. The laughing continued until the sound of a breaking plate made the whole establishment fall into silence. My head quickly turned to the source of the sound. “oh my god”, I said out loud when my brain finally processed what I’ve been looking at. A group of girls in dark blue sweat suits and one standing up with her hands rested on her head. Her eyes shifted around the small shop realizing all eyes were on her. Her eyes were met with mine and my heart dropped. Her eyes grew and her hands dropped to her side. Everyone else around us had gone back to whatever they were doing before and the rest of the girls started laughing at Paige and helping clean up. Not Paige though, she remained in the same spot maintaining eye contact with me. ‘I can’t do this today’, I thought to myself breaking the eye contact with her. I can’t really tell but it looked like she was….sorry? or sad? I can’t read her like I once could. Her eye contact was so captivating, it brought back a flood of memories in that short amount of time. I was left in deep thought in the middle of this long ass line. “Hey”, the voice broke me out of my deep dive into memories. My eyes moved to the right of me to be face to face with her. “Hi Paige”, I said to her with a small smile. “You look great…..and i’ve been thinking lately and I’m sorry about how I ended things with us-“. I cut her off. “I’m sorry Paige but I don’t think this is the time or place for this conversation. I have a house showing to get to”. “I understand. I shouldn’t have dumped all this shit on you right here, right now. We can talk later?”. I grabbed my coffee off the counter and turned back to Paige. “yeah, I still have your number. See you later Paige”. I squeezed my way through the crowd of busy people and walked out the double glass doors quickly until I felt something on my arm. I stopped to turn around and saw Paige grasping onto my forearm. “Paige I-“. “I know you have to go but just know I never closed the door on us……I’m stupid as shit and thought there was someone else for me. I fucked up and i’m so sorry”. Her voice sounded like she was hurt, like she really regrets it. But she left me for someone else?! “We’ll talk Paige”. I said walking away and out of her grasp. I still can’t hate her though, I cant bring myself to hate her. My heart still beats faster for her like it did when we were deep in love, I don’t get it. The only thing I was left thinking was ‘what did that girl have on me?’

————————————————————————

to be continued….

[deltoradecay]

The Problems With Decay.

Sometimes, shit from fictionbased identities (or other alterhuman identities involving memories/noemata!) sticks. Memories, noemata, trauma responses, other things ingrained into your being--it's hard to break old habits. Especially if they're rooted in avoiding disastrous outcomes. It might be easier for some to move on, harder for others. There's plenty of people who aren't affected much by things that happened in their memories--other times it really sticks hard, and finding ways to navigate those things can be tricky. Sometimes, because of that, in your current body/brain/life or whatever framework you use, you have to find ways to make accomodations for yourself.

I'm a fableing (a sort of grey-area between fictive and fictionkin in a median system) of Tomura Shigaraki, from My Hero Academia. For people who don't know, in source, Shigaraki has a power that enables him to basically turn anything he touches with all 5 fingers of his hands to dust. Which, yeah, great for getting rid of problems (and people)! Not too great when it's not a thing you can simply turn off. Any thing I would touch, at all, would dissolve out of my control. If I touched it--even accidentally--with all 5 fingers of one hand? Gone. Can't do shit about that once it happens, there's no way to stop it. Many an accident happened.

Ignoring any specific events that happened in source canon... Even back then, there were absolutely things I didn't want to destroy. I had to be careful how I held things, careful how I interacted with people (if I didn't intend to kill them), careful of every movement I made. Hold a burger wrong? Well, lunch is gone now. Accidentally stumble a little and my hand reflexively touches someone to steady myself? They're gone too.

Now that I'm here in this body, I obviously don't need to worry about destroying things accidentally. I don't have my power in the front, my hands are completely safe to touch no matter how you do it. I can't decay things anymore. But that hasn't stopped me from acting like I still have it, and behaving accordingly regardless of that my hands can actually do now.

I'll hold my phone with a finger carefully lifted off the back of it. I'll pet our cat usually with only two or so fingers to be safe. I get worried about letting our birds onto my hands--what if they're perched just right that their feathers touch my other fingers? I'll hold food and drinks with a finger lifted off of them (which kind of looks ridiculous with holding cups because it's so obvious to other people). I'm still so meticulously careful about how I touch things, and yeah, I get really fucking anxious about it when I'm handling things I care a lot for. I know I can grab a glass without it fading away, I know I can pick up our cat without worrying that I'll end him, I know I can hold our birds, I know I can hold someone elses hand. It's something I logically know isn't an issue, it's not how it was in my memories, but living that life left a mark on my brain and it's hard to shake.

But, kind of recently, I learned something. Digital artist gloves. We've wanted some for a while, to make it easier to draw. We'd originally planned to wear them pretty often if we did get them, because we need to wear gloves a lot of the time anyway due to having circulation issues that lend our hands to getting real cold real easy. We normally wear fingerless gloves, as we need our fingertips to use our phone and type. But we thought more on it, and were thinking about how maybe artist gloves wouldn't be enough to keep our hands warm--typically they only cover two fingers, and are joined by a thin strap, overall covering less skin than regular fingerless gloves. But from that line of thinking I realised, they completely cover two fingers, and don't really touch any of the others.

Operating off of the logic my decay used, the gloves wouldn't be turned to dust because they don't cover my whole hand, and neither would anything I touch, because two fingers have a barrier over them, effectively disabling my quirk for as long as I wear them. It was the sort of middleground compromise I needed, between ignoring my anxiety and playing too hard into it by being terrified to touch things. Even if theoretically I could accidentally touch the glove with my whole hand and make it go away, in this body I can't do that, and unless I remove it, I will just keep being able to feel the glove on my hand as reassurance. A safeguard--not from anything literal anymore, but something to give me peace of mind.

I wear them all the time now, both in-system and in the front. They're just a permanent part of my outfit at this point (as you can see below in the art we made of myself), and they've helped me stop thinking about it so constantly. I don't need to worry about decaying things around me because I have protection measures against that.

While me wearing them was spawned out of exotrauma-induced anxiety, they're also really identity affirming the more I think about it. Yes, I'd like to not have to worry about decaying everything I touch--but that's just a trait of me. That's as much of a part of me as my other memories or my other experiences. They make me feel more like source-me, because I know if I thought about this solution before as an easier way to eat, drink and sleep? I absolutely would've done it. I don't see it just as wearing the gloves because I'm anxious or traumatised. I'm taking a positive out of it--I'm wearing them because I'm Tomura Shigaraki. Of course I'd need to have something like that.

So, I guess, the point--aside from me simply just sharing this--is that sometimes, you need to figure out some sort of compromise for yourself. Some way to navigate your own noemata, exomemories or exotrauma that you might have to get a little bit creative for. Is it always going to be foolproof? No. It is maybe a bit silly sometimes? Possibly! But this is something that both saves a lot of anxiety for me, and is in a roundabout sort of way, identity affirming at the same time. You can find positives in the weirdest things.

[cynthiav06]

https://www.tumblr.com/lilislegacy/777117213311336448/httpswwwtumblrcomfate-of-the-envious74879588?source=share

Ah, that's a good one. The source post that is. Not op's take on it. Nothing against the op. They have some good Percy takes. I am not sure why anon didn't send this to @fate-of-the-envious themselves considering they would probably have a more apt reply for this as the source post is theirs. But I will do my best to break it down instead.

Before we begin, to those who have been sending me similar asks may have missed my recent post on going on a hiatus again soon. It would be beneficial for both me and the anons/followers to use the navigation bar on my blog page to search all the posts relevant to anti percabeth tag or any other tag you want. Because I assure you at least for anti percabeth whatever post you think you want made chances are I have already made it. I have made a lot of posts so a nav page is a bit hard to make, I am in process of making it but please until then utilize this method.

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

Now, the post (which I implore you to check it out first) is about the scene in Chalice of the Gods where Annabeth pushes Percy of a cliff. Op links that to the Judo flip scene and says neither is abuse and normal rules can't be applied to demigods like Percy and Annabeth but she does agree that it was an inappropriate reaction from Annabeth both times so at least that’s something. Let's deal with this one at a time.

Let's get the Judo flip out of the way. I don't know why everyone focuses on the wrong thing with the Judo flip. Annabeth was high on emotions and the Judo flip was definitely a terrible response considering she was also unaware of whether Percy still had his Achilles curse or not given that she flipped him on the small of his back where his mortal tether is. Even if she knew the curse was gone that is in no way a response of someone who has been intensely missing their boyfriend and was in great pain without the said boyfriend. But I am willing to ignore all of this even because funny enough that's not the most concerning thing about the Judo flip. The MOST CONCERNING part of the Judo flip is that Annabeth BLAMES Percy for getting KIDNAPPED and having his memories BRAINWASHED. That's where I draw the line.

Also if op wants to point out the actual terrible implications in Chalice of the Gods about percabeth, not only does Annabeth do all of the above, she MAKES PERCY APOLOGIZE for what was clearly assault against him as evidenced by Percy's conversation with Grover.

She is putting her own distress at him being missing ABOVE PERCY'S PAIN AND PERCY'S SITUATION. We don't get a single scene where Annabeth comforts or consoles Percy about everything that happened to him. Being dropped in the middle of no where, constantly hunted by creatures that kept resurrecting, being in enemy territory with no memory and a thousand other horrible traumatic situations that PERCY HAD TO FACE.

Okay now getting back to the scene in Cotg where Annabeth pushes Percy off the cliff.

First, the op goes on about how Percy was unhurt and fine, and he is powerful so he can heal himself and so on. Yes, obviously, yes, he's bloody Percy Jackson. But I think everyone's missing the point. Just looking at the start point and the end point isn't enough. What happened in between is just as important. Yes Percy can heal himself, yes he is the strongest demigod but he is also just a teenager who feels pain just as acutely as a human [mentioning this cause op says that we don't know if demigods feel pain the same way] and it's not just me. Percy himself mentions this.

It was obviously painful. He goes far enough to call it worst case of heartburn. Sure it healed right after but it was very painful.

And let's get to the worst part. Percy was quite literally having a very traumatic experience especially if it made him feel like his child self, scared and powerless.

So we have disproved the first point which stated that he was completely fine and it wasn't painful. Yes he healed, but he wasn't at all fine and it was definitely painful. My guy was having a breakdown from it. Which part of that seems okay?

Now the op says that Percy had priorly said yes to a suggestion to jump, let me emphasize jump. Annabeth pushed him off without warning but I am sure she thought it was fine, Percy was a bit irritated but he let it go. We will let this one pass. What however should have been Annabeth's response is that she should have checked on Percy, she should have been at least a bit guilty that Percy was going to have to do all the painful stuff. Because as op says the river god was going to attack anyway and Percy was the only one who could deal with that but there's no acceptance on Annabeth's side for the gravity of what's she made Percy do. Because she was right there watching him being thrown around and beaten up heavily while having a tea party with the river god [not her fault it was a good distraction] but all she did was tap on her watch and tell Percy to hurry up. No consideration for his pain or what he was going through, not during the situation nor after it. Now Annabeth out of everyone should be attuned to Percy's emotional state. Given the sheer scale of his out of control response she must have been able to tell it was not an okay experience. Percy pulled the entire river bed off and completely rearranged it. So that should have been a clue but not Annabeth, she calls it GOING OVERBOARD later on.

Also let's go back to the part where she pushes him off. Percy wants to take it slow. He says he does but nope Annabeth just straight up pushes him off. Op says it's Annabeth being sarcastic or funny but it's obviously not what Percy wanted to do in that moment.

And we all have seen Annabeth repeatedly getting physical with Percy, and it's completely one-sided to the point where Percy just has to tolerate and get used to her hitting him. There are various books where he says he was afraid she was going to hit him. Now the problem with that is Annabeth's medium for expressing rage is also her medium for having fun with him and that's not a healthy thing cause Percy obviously has bad experiences with physical abuse and latent trauma from it and he shouldn't have to get used to Annabeth's unhealthy ways of expressing herself at his own expense. Annabeth loves him, so she should do better because Percy has gone above and beyond for her every time. surely he deserves Annabeth being soft with him and surely a relationship should have healthy and positive emotional expression medium between them. Shouldn't Annabeth as a person deserve to be able to move on with some of her unhealthy coping mechanisms as a sign of recovery from her own trauma as well? For herself and for Percy? Between Annabeth teasing his intelligence and hitting him constantly, we see zero to none.

So yes it may not be outright abuse but it is heading towards it because at what point are we going to acknowledge Annabeth has a very bad way of expressing herself to Percy and it has consistently involved violence and or demeaning remarks? She literally punches him in the stomach in The Titan's Curse because Percy doesn't ask her to dance when she was the one who wanted him to do so while not giving him any hint and or idea that she wanted such a thing.

I know why everyone in Percabeth community gets defensive over the word abuse as they should because it's not a small thing but surely we can acknowledge that there's some disconnect between what Annabeth wants to convey and how she conveys it that stands contradictory to her orignal intention and also that she fails to see the harm in this?

Now we might have different takes on how a relationship goes but I firmly stand by my own. I have nothing against those who ship it but that does no mean those of us who do not ship it are doing so on baseless grounds.

[qinchez]

━ .ᐟ₊⊹ PAIRING: myth/dragon sylus, x female mc ( mc’s name is surina ).

━ .ᐟ₊⊹ SUMMARY: tidbits of conversation have an immediate effect on sylus, making him reminiscent his earlier days with his beloved.

━ .ᐟ₊⊹ GENRE: very myth focused. heavy angst. no comfort.

━ .ᐟ₊⊹ NOTES: i started writing only recently and english isn’t my first language so take this with a grain of salt. quotes mentioned are not mine but canonically in the game.

“i made it while you were getting your marshmallows. i didn’t have a lot of time, so the final product is rough around the edges …. are you satisfied with it, my beloved?”

ruby eyes facing iridescent ones. warmth being spread along one’s face and through their hearts, the source of heat not caused from the bonfire but the blossoming feelings exchanged between them both.

“yes … i am.”

it seems that she liked the flower crown he made for her. good. it made him happy that she did, but little did she know that wasn’t the first time she was given one from him.

she had forgotten, all memories of him gone, and it hurt more than expected. he didn’t blame her per say, but having to act as if she was a stranger, as if she wasn’t the one he loves, the one he longed for after waiting for so long to meet her hurt.

glimpses and flashbacks of were all he had of their doomed past.

surina was the sole reason for his humanity. the girl who named him. sylus, the ruthless, decisive, cruel, and merciless leader of onychinus, named by his beloved. even after his death and even without her remembering anything, he still chooses to go by said name. kindly welcoming the remaining fragments of her instead of nothing at all. the feeling of her being a part of his life is something that he has always longed, sometimes even, begged for.

she had taught him to be human. having such a profound effect on sylus. she was the one who gave him a purpose and a sense of humanity, these no longer welcome fragments still remaining a part of him, accepting whatever parts of her remain. her influence on him so deep that he chose to continue living under the name she had given him. her lasting impact on him was so significant that sometimes he yearned for her to be there, even in just some small capacity.

he had always clutched onto his humanity, in his own words, mistakingly believing he was a normal person. growing up and thinking he was one and trying to bend his identity into something he is not, refusing to come to terms with the fact that he is not human anymore, but a monster instead. he was scared. not only was his appearance changing, but his entire view of himself. who is he? who has he become? the very way he saw himself was now tainted.

her love acted like a balm over his injuries. as if she’s wiping away the blood from injuries caused by his own self. the act is so tender, a stark reminder of the way she viewed him, the way he wished to be viewed. like her equal, her companionship, and her love. he would love to simply exist as the man she loves.

accepting his identity as a monster also meant the fact that he always had a soft spot for animals. dragons have long been depicted as mythical monsters with powers and a fearsome presence. they are creatures of legend that inspire fear and awe in those who hear their name, always associated with destruction and chaos, yet symbolizing creation along with destruction. sylus had always been aware of this perception, sometimes even choosing to bask in it all. after all, he is strong, fearsome, and capable of unleashing destruction. although sometimes, that perception couldn’t be more different than what he is or wanted to be. people often thought of dragons as cursed animals. ones that should be locked away and are incapable of any love and affection, not knowing that said deemed impossible human love would be the cause of this dragon’s demise. a creature that is always perceived incapable of harboring such emotions, and an animal that could never be human, falling utterly in love. a love that made him thought he could live as a human too, and one that couldn’t last long.

a dragon’s curse that consists of killing his beloved. one that the two fated lovers … two star-crossed lovers whose fates and souls are entwined, could not escape, no matter how much they tried. no matter how many tears were shed and no matter their relentless efforts, it would always be futile. doomed by the narrative, the two lovers’ unwavering fight against their fate will never suffice. fate will continuously plunge the two lovers into the abyss as was written. the blood-red greatsword constantly reappearing, longing to be thrust into the dragon’s ruby like chest.

his heart, gleaming and vulnerable always seemed to beckon the blade. as if it was begged to be destroyed, as if his death was the key to some greater truth. she, his lover, was doomed to forever be his arch-nemesis. continuously finding herself the unwilling hand of fate, and the wielder of the cursed sword.

“….. you must press on. because if you don’t … there’s no going back.”

no matter how much she tried, how much she strained her own body to stop it all, it’s as if her body had a mind of its own, refusing to be controlled by her. agonizing screams pierced the abyss yet fell upon deaf ears. and to make matters worse, he was the one further plunging the sword further into his own chest. she knows him well enough to recognize that this is his last act of rebellion against their predestined fate, and a final laugh in the face of the curse, ending it on his own terms.

her hands and body were trembling, every gasp of pain from him resulting in a guttural sob escaping from her, tearing through the void. she could feel his pain and she wishes she can make this stop somehow, but all her attempts were futile, the curse merely mocking her for even trying to defy it. his ruby eyes, always the most gentle with her, were still filled with love and warmth but they now shimmered with a bittersweet resolve — a sight that broke her even more. the eyes that she adores, ones that always shone with an outwardly brilliance, that could put even the shiniest of gem stones to shame, were now getting dimmed as life was seeping from them.

he was bound to this blade, his soul burning with it. their sacred love now destroyed, and the stars weeped for them over and over. stars that have always shone so brightly were now dimmed with sorrow, mourning the tragedy of their love. every flicker of their light seemed to carry the grief of love once shared, an eternal lament to a love that couldn’t defy its cruel destiny.

the sword that was now pulsing, was ready to engulf him whole. he was slipping away between her fingers, the love of her life, dissolving into fragments, every shard carrying a piece of his soul, along with her own. even the stars that were weeping, their light flickering out one by one, the pain and suffering exhibited being enough to fully extinguish their light. it was as if the stars were paying tribute to the grief and agony that transpired.

she embraced him with all the strength she could muster, arms fully wrapped around his body, begging to anchor him to this world, to her. he was her other half, their souls and hearts bound forever. fingers were now desperately clinging onto him, as if to etch her love into his very being, and whispered pleas were being uttered.

“stay. please … please stay. don’t leave me, not like this, not again …” her voice was breaking, carrying the weight of their agony and the weight of a thousand lifetimes of loss.

she didn’t know who she was praying and begging to, but it didn’t matter. she would pray to every god that existed and kneel before every god and beg and beg and beg, if it meant she can have him next to her. she would scream her desperation to the heavens if she had to, move mountains, and commit every sin known to mankind if it meant he would not leave her side. she would beg until her knees buckled and her body gave up on her, knees bleeding from the ground’s cruel embrace, just so they can live the simplest of lives together. she wishes she could rewrite the stars and undo their doomed fates, no longer wanting anything else from the world, except his presence, because a world where he does not exist was one she could not endure.

she pressed her forehead against his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat of his heart — possibly for the very last time. the heart he gave to her without a second thought as it was hers since the beginning of time. he was merely returning it back to it’s rightful owner. with the last of his strength gathered, he kisses her forehead and whispers a goodbye, his eyes brimming with tears and love for her. her body shook, wracked with sobs that echoed the depth of her anguish as she listened to his heart as it stopped beating. as he slipped away, she was left with her own self, and an incurable tear in her heart. after all, no matter how much she longed for it, her love alone would never be enough to defy the cruel narrative that bound them.

[shepscapades]

... that lean makes me think of the lean Bdubs did in the syncing comic....which if course begs the question: Did Etho pick up this habit of leaning to indicate processing/suspicion from Bdubs or did Bdubs pick it up from Etho? (or is it just a good way to show that emotion in comic form XD) Also.... the hair clip... My impression is that the flashback is from pretty early on. Is the hair clip a precursor to the well known headband? In universe, why a headband? Since they both do wear headbands... Was the headband originally Bdub's? Is... I know Etho is scared during the whole Last Life thing... is he thinking that Bdubs is planning specifically on targeting one of the androids? Or is that his fear talking?

... And after all that speculating... Ouch, Poor Tango!! ( i know this is an important event for Tango, but we don't see any of his reaction or feelings about any of this yet)

Wonderful comic, as always, Shep!

WEEE These are such good questions omg :DDDD alright i couldn't shut up so i'm putting it under a read more =w=

this is basically a mini comic breakdown! just rambling about some of the dbhc plot and mecahnics >:D

The lean is such a fun detail, i didn't even realize the similarities-- but it's actually a really nice (totally intentional) callback! I think Etho absolutely picked up those mannerisms from Bdubs, the same way Doc did from Ren, and so on so forth-- the androids, especially throughout season 8 and last life, are using their partnered hermits (and the other hermits in general) to learn what it means to be and act human-- vocal mannerisms, physical mannerisms, learning emotions for the first time and what it means to feel them, everything! I kind of see Season 8 as their "young" period-- their first season, the season they learn who they are and develop some of their most iconic traits. Etho is still himself, shyness and stoicism and all, but he learns his whimsy and silliness and teasing nature from being with bdubs for so long :)

THE HAIR CLIP <333 Yeah Etho's "Replaying Memory" moment is when Doc was checking out his "wounds" / the damage he sustained (from the initial creeper blast that caused his deviation) for the first time! At the time of the memory, It had probably been a little while since the actual initial incident where Bdubs had covered him up a little bit to hide the damage, but i'm sure doc or someone else noticed before long LDFKGJDF so this is their first like... "checkup"! So Etho is pretty young here (Doc too, but he already has his robot arm at this point, so...), maybe within the first month or two of season 8. So he definitely normally wears a bandana at this point (the same band bdubs made him wear initially to cover up the forehead cracks a little), but he's clipped his bangs back here so Doc can get a better look at the damage :)

I have a LOT of feelings about Etho's mental dialogue throughout last life, and it's very complicated and i won't be able to shut up about it so that's for another post. I will say, I don't think Etho ever truly thought Bdubs would Boogey kill him (though, doubt is a very powerful thing, so it turns out). I think Etho is still puzzling Bdubs out (though he's definitely learned quite a lot about him), especially when it comes to more serious situations like this, so the unknowns are definitely the biggest sources of fear for him. He can only do so much with the data he currently has, and the idea that a weapon so sharp could permanently damage any of the androids... it's an unsettling thought, regardless of whoever the mostly likely victim ends up being. (I don't think Etho expects it to be Tango, either-- not until he sees that look in Bdubs' eyes 10 seconds before it happens. I think Doc's little speech about their models is just helpful information for the reader and a sense of foreshadowing (as well as a reminder for Etho of how Not-So-Indestructible he is/the other androids are), not so much that etho thinks it's going to be tango after recalling the memory. Same for Bdubs. I dont think bdubs decided to target Tango until he was staring the back of his neck down and realized he could take the opportunity before he lost it). Anyway i've already rambled too much /silly

And lastly, Yes. This is, besides his deviation, probably Tango's most formative moment. The second time he truly experiences rage. I don't know if I could do a comic or an illustration that truly does his rage moment justice after he wakes up post-respawn and has a meltdown trying to kill bdubs, but knowing that Skizz wasn't built until s9 and is therefore missing from Last Life (AKA, Tango has no one other than Etho and Bdubs), just... makes this betrayal so, so much more painful. This betrayal is very much about Tango's rage, but it's also about his sense of trust and safety and his understanding of the way the world works. Hermitcraft is safety and jokes and support, and sure there's a bit of death here and there, but this is unlike anything he's ever known-- it's adrenaline and fear and threats and betrayal and. Anyway what a normal meltdown to have! And Etho can do nothing to calm him down except hold him back from killing bdubs (there's something to be said there too, about Tango knowing for certain now that Bdubs obviously chooses Etho over himself (Because come on, Bdubs wouldn't have killed Etho. Let's be honest here), but knowing too that Etho is choosing bdubs by not letting Tango get the revenge he so rightfully deserves...) Anyway. I think i'll explode if i think about this more

[thewalrusespublicist]

"Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol)"

OMG no way! Your blog is one of the best here! What i love the most is reading the analysis and meta from the users, there's always more information and good takes, and yours are always quite deep and insightful.

I would love if you share your opinions about Stuart as well. I feel like he is obviously more sanctified that he should be since he died young (like that insane quote from his mom saying that Brian told her that Stuart could have been the Beatles' manager, no way lol) and i feel his memory has been used to attack Paul, sometimes in a very unfair way. Like, i don't deny the teenage drama and jealousy that Paul felt about him but he *was* a shitty bass player and the band was Paul's future, he was allowed to criticized him not only for being John's new bestie. I also think John played with them both but i lack of your eloquence so i will love to read your take about it.

Hi anon! And the other anons!

Thank you again and to all the other messages I got, they were extremely sweet and really made my day. :)

From my inbox, it's clear you guys want to know about Stu and his role in the Beatles legacy. Well you asked for it and a novel you shall have. Be warned this might be the longest post I've done so grab like a drink or something.

A few disclaimers: I wish and had intended for this to be more of a deep dive into Stu as a whole person rather than just his relationship with John and Paul. Unfortunately I just didn't have the space to do it. If you want to know more about Stu I would highly recommend @eppysboys' blog which is the source for all things Stu Sutcliffe and where I got a lot of this info. Please check their stuff out. Also, I'm going to be a bit blunter on this than maybe I usually am because this topic has been irritating me for some time. Oh also I’m trying my best to answer a lot of asks in one post so please forgive if I don’t fully answer your specific ask about this!

Stu in a perfect world should be a fandom darling: an exciting cipher, a handsome artistic talent that died way too soon who had a major influence in the early Beatles style. It's like there’s this secret other James Dean looking mf Beatle hidden away to uncover, that's cool and he is cool! The problem is that he’s sort of becomes radioactive to talk about in a normal way due to how he's been portrayed and utilised in some biographies and fandom spaces, particularly those that have been infected by John Lennon aspirational boy bestie syndrome. As those types of spaces cannot seem to exist without tearing down Paul to prop John up as their special lil guy, Stu as John's other best friend has become the ideal heavy object to hit Paul McCartney over the head with. It's like a corrosive element, the minute Stu hits a Beatles bio, the biographer suddenly loses all training in objectivity and source work and starts waxing lyrical about 100 percent reliable never biased or wrong Saint Stu of Hamburg who died for our condom arson sins and that Paul McCartney should feel bad about every day of his life for not worshipping Stu and not accepting his own ‘place’ in life as John's just-some-guy placeholder best friend. I’ve personally seen so many posts and forums where Stu being mentioned leads to a legion of comments about how Paul could never have been Stu (correct both ways) and how John would never have even glanced at Paul for much longer if Stu had been alive. Sidenote: If you seriously think that the musical savant from down the road whom John went on to produce the most prolific song writing partnership in history with couldnt have kept his attention for long then I'm begging you on hands and knees to get your head out of the arse of your John Lennon body pillow and be serious. But anyway…

This boy bestie battle royale approach has in turn lead to a reflex reaction where Stu gets studiously ignored by other sections of the fandom as a precedent has been set that shining a light on him diminishes Paul and John's relationship with Paul. It's frustrating because if people weren't so keen to cut Paul out of his own story then we would get a much better nuanced view of every single person involved.

So let's put aside all of our defenses, cut the John Lennon loved one ranking system bullshit and lets look at the actual question here which is what was John and Stu's relationship really like and what did he mean to John?

John and Stu met at art college a year or so after Paul and John met. Up to that point John and Paul had their fun little codependant thing going on but Stu quickly became a huge fixture in John's life. Stu had things that Paul couldn't really offer at that point in time. John was at his heart a musician who aspired to be seen as an artist (he would later express surprise that he didn't become an artist). Stu was the passionate artist who knew tons about the art of the period that could teach and inspire John. Their creative leanings meant they could work on projects together and share art notebooks and poetry. (Including yes the one with anti-semitic story which I mention again as I believe it's an important thing to remember when it comes to both John and Stu and the culture of the time.) Stuart by the sounds of it was even writing a novel about John at the time of his death. They were fascinated and inspired by each other.

So, creatively they fired each other up but more importantly perhaps, Stu and John were peers. It's funny to think about when you see the Beatles later but at the time Paul and George were the kids in their school uniform coming to see their cool older friend at art school. That's an important divide. When Paul and George's parents insisted their kids do their homework and go to bed, John and Stu could stay up and talk all hours of the night, which they did. They also could rent a place together and spend long hours chatting (despite John moving out later after realising electricity cost money lol.) There's a different dynamic that the age similarity offered as well. Whilst Paul would later somewhat grow into this role, Stu could act as an authority figure to John as well as open up to John in a way you can really only do with your peers. Stu was the person John opened up to throughout Stu's life:

How long can one go on writing and writing like you. I now don’t really know who I’m writing to or why it’s quiet peculiar. I usually write like this and forget about it but if I put it in a little part of my [almost?] secret self in the hands of someone miles away who will wonder what the hell is going on or just pass it off as toilet paper. Anyway I don’t care really what happens because when I think about it, it’s so bloody unimportant – but what is important who has the right to say that this letter is not important and this is a something any way – anyway – anyway – yeah! I wonder what it would be like to be a cretin or something. I bet it’s gear. & how are you keepin Stuart old chap are you as ok – is life as good – bad shite, great – wonderful as it was or is it just a thousand years of nothing and coolness on and on and on. I think this is it Goodbye Stu don’t write out of – er what is it? well not because you think you ought to write when you feel like So goodbye (from John you know the one with glasses) ANYWAY BYE BYE see you soon I don’t know why I said that I remember a time when everyone I loved hated me because I hated them so what so what so fucking what I remember a time when belly buttons were knee high when only shitting was dirty and everything else clean + beautiful I can’t remember anything without a sadness So deep that it hardly becomes known to me so deep that its tears leave me a spectator of my own STUPIDITY + so I go rambling on with a hey nonny nonny nonny no

Extract from a letter to Stuart Sutcliffe from John Lennon, 1961

By lots of accounts Stu was gentle but firm when it came to telling John he'd gone too far. John references this aspect of Stu to Hunter Davies:

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I'd believe him."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

In this way I kind of see Stu as a proto-Yoko. John was so insecure and uncertain about his grip on the world and reality that he relied on Stu to be his point of reference and guide. Paul did this too later and I think in Hunter Davies John mentions this, but not at this time period and not as much due to their competitiveness. This may be why some people saw Stu as the person that really understood John at this time period:

"During the turbulent adolescence that prefaced a turbulent manhood, hardly anyone knew Lennon as intimately as Stuart Sutcliffe. If they weren't exactly David and Jonathan, June Furlong, one of the life models at Liverpool's Regional College of Art, had "never seen two teenagers as close as those two."

The Gospel According To Lennon by Alan Clayson

Now this person likely never met John and Paul together but this is only one of many similar quotes and even Julia captain of John and Paul's friendship boat seems to agree there was a period where Stu dominated and Paul 'kept his distance' from the John-Cyn-Stu 'menage-a-trois'. But the friendship wasn't perfect and his position as John's ultimate best friend was never iron clad. This is best outlined by the shit they pulled when John convinced him to join on Bass for the Beatles.

Despite being John's best friend, Stu was teased and bullied:

"They argued as usual amongst themselves, but most of all they picked on Stu, the newest member of the group. John, George and Paul had been with each other long enough to know that rows and arguments and criticism didn't mean much. If it did, you just argued back. "We were terrible," says John. "We'd tell Stu he couldn't sit with us, or eat with us. We'd tell him to go away, and he did." At one hotel they stayed at, a variety show had just left. There had been a dwarf in the show and they found out which bed he had slept in and said that would have to be Stu's. They certainly weren't going to sleep in it. So Stu had to. "That was how he learned to be with us," says John. "It was all stupid, but that was what we were like."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

Why John encouraged this I have no idea, maybe jealousy over Stu's looks and wanting to play people off each other? Things were tense in both Scotland and Hamburg, especially between Stu and Paul. As I said in my last post, the girls were fighting and it was mutual. Paul was mad for both fair and immature teenage-boy reasons. Stu could not be bothered with the bass most of the time and couldn't really play well and was only there as he was '(John's) best friend' (ouch for Paul). Paul conversely had given up higher education to be there and was sending lots of money back home. He also was dating the girl Paul fancied. Stu was popular with the new group and also did mean things like help John steal Paul's money when money was really tight for him. Paul in turn was a passive aggressive, jealous and mean. It all came to ahead in the punch up onstage which according to Spitz came about from Paul wanting money back and saying that Stu could borrow some from Astrid. Stu goes for him and reports vary from full-on bust up to embarrassing scuffle. Stu then goes to where Astrid and Paul's gf Dot are, demands Dot leaves and goes on a rant about Paul. Now all of this must be framed in the context of Stu receiving increasing brain damage from his condition that seemingly lead to mood swings and anger. Nevertheless, the mutual needling and anger, as well as John's refusal to do/say fuck all about it, especially given how protective John was of Stu, suggests that it wasn’t straightforward and/or John may have been playing some games to make both feel threatened. This would also make sense as to why we hear conflicting accounts of John and Stu being the centre of everything and everyone else in orbit AND John and Paul being the centre and everyone else playing catch-up, as well as John giving Paul the lead to take him round the Reeperbahn when John got dressed in the gorilla costume. (I know Paul may have just been the closest there but that always gave off bestie behaviour to me.)

(I did get an ask about how John and Paul's friendship survived it, I think it was damaged by Hamburg. When Paul got back home he got a job at a construction site and there's just a vibe of everything being a bit on tenterhooks. John also acts a bit weird at the period, not talking to anyone for a few weeks then making a lot of weird demands from Paul. I'm really not sure what to make of it.)

Even when he's back in Liverpool, John still writes long letters to Stu and vice-versa. I can't find it at all but I’ve read a really sad interview with John saying he missed his best mate and it's a shame that he's not with them. He had no idea at that point that Stu had already died of a brain hemorrhage at 21.

John is said to have gone into hysterics when he found out Stu had died. A lot of people who've spoken about this time (Aunt Mimi, his sister Julia, the Exsis) concur that at this point Stu was his best friend and the death shattered him. He even told Astrid he wished he could give his life for Stu’s. This is backed up by the fact that John never forgot Stu and his shadow lingered for the rest of John's life:

Stu was recalled in In My Life

Years later, after John composed the first of his truly poignant and heartfelt Beatles songs, "In My Life"—with its lines about "friends I still can recall/some are dead and some are living"—he revealed to me that the two people he had had uppermost in mind were myself and Stuart Sutcliffe. And then he stunned me with a statement that I'd never heard him address to anyone—least of all to another man. "You know, Pete," he said softly, "I do love you. But," he quickly added, "I loved Stuart as well."

Weird that Paul isn't mentioned surely you think that he would be mentioned if Pete was there too okay, okay my tin hat is going away this isn't the time

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life

In 1965 John drew Stu on a postcard

He apparently said this about Stu prior to sending the postcard, prompted by an article about Stuart.

The card had been sent from Genoa mid-way through the Beatles' Italian tour. [...] But the conversation had become maudlin when I reminded him that he was going to talk to me for an article about Stuart. [...] In that sad telephone conversation before they set off for Milan, I asked him if he was happy: 'I'd be a lot happier if Stuart was still part of us,' he said, 'The Beatles would be complete.' And before he rang off he said 'Ill send you something.'

He also appears on the cover of Sgt Pepper

As mentioned, Stu gets mentioned in Hunter Davies in terms of wistfulness and guilt AND he gets a mention in John's insane 'if I were a homosexual' ramblings in early 70s. According to Yoko, John also wanted Yoko to write letters to him and didn't think it would be strange because Stu wrote letters to him.

I have a pet theory that as with a lot of things for John, his unresolved grief over Stu really came to the fore in the late 60s now that he had actually had a chance to sit down and think about things. I believe it was partially why he wanted Yoko to write letters and why he gets mentioned in the early 70s as a collaborator/best friend and not in 1980 where John only gives that credit to Paul and Yoko. I think with the cracks with Paul, John had started to think back on his old friend and guide and what advice he would give.

Stuarts presence is still felt throughout the seventies:

“He told me everything. He loved to talk about Hamburg. There were no secrets. It was the kind of life I never knew…. It meant total freedom. At his side always was Stuart, sweet Stuart. There wasn’t a time in John’s life when he didn’t think about Stuart. He spoke always of his love and respect for Stuart.”

Yoko discussing Stu in When They Were Boys: The True Story of the Beatles’ Rise to the Top by Larry Kane

Coming to grips with his death is also present in Skywriting

SEAN O’HAIRE: What happened to Stuart Cliff? DR. FISCHY: What happened was a full exchange of energy where it was not needed within the expression of your own self or in the energies involved around and about you. We cannot call it a happening. We’ll say it is an awakening, for in that way it has served an expression from the past to the present and to the future to where there shall be more of that incomplete vibration expressed to you in a more fuller understanding.

Skywriting by Word of Mouth, John Lennon

This isn't exhaustive but I think from all this it's pretty clear that John adored Stu, John grieved Stu and kept grieving Stu. Stu had a specific place in his life as a confidant that he tried to recreate with Yoko. At the time of Stu's death, he was John's best friend, probably slightly over Paul. Stuart had been able to be both a friend and paternal presence, a confidant and an artistic collaborator. His presence and loss was one of the foundational points in John's life.

But as we've been asked to play this stupid game and so many bios like to make a hoopla about it, were they at their closest ever as close as John and Paul were at their height?

No.

How do we know? Because John told us so:

" He [Paul] still is the closest friend I've ever had, except for Yoko, so I'm still close to him whatever goes on."

John Lennon to an interviewer, 1971

But Walrus! John just says shit! How do we know he isn't leaving out Stu because the press don't know Stu. Well true John does just say shit but this is at a time where John isn't the most glowing about Paul and he's had no problem mentioning Stu in this time period ('one of my best friends ever' would have made a similar point).

But Walrus again! If John picked Stu over Paul when they were young why wouldn't he be the boy bestie of all time, and why would John say that he was closer to Paul? Well, because of the environment and timings. Stu's death happened near the beginning of John and Paul's major bonding moments. If you look at their personal timeline, Paris, the Nerk twins, and getting signed happened just before Stu died. That's missing the major years of Beatlemania, Key West, LSD, Paul growing more into being John's peer and a load of other huge moments in their lives. It's like how John writes to Cyn in 1962 about wanting the house to themselves and not have Paul around all the time. Would you say because he feels closer to Cyn then that John in his overall lifetime loved Cyn more than Paul? No, because relationships change over time and theirs were no exception. (One thing to consider as well is that we don't yet have many letters between John and Paul during their Beatles years and earlier, probably because they were spending so much time with each other. We know a couple exist that Paul considers too personal for publication but I'm sure there are others. It's easy to understand what John felt for Stu as we have the letters, I think we would also have an easier time understanding what John felt for Paul if we had the equivalent of those.)

At the end of the day Paul was the man he believed he had a psychic bond with, the man he couldn’t shut up about, the man whom he’d conquered the world with with their endless collaboration, the man with a twin personality to him and according to John spent more time with throughout the 60s than he had with Yoko ever. To be frank if Paul had died in 67' I don't think this would have been a conversation.

As mentioned early, in early 1970s John elevates his partnership with Stu to his collaborations with Paul and Yoko but by 1980 he’s pretty clear that Paul and Yoko are their own category.

"I was saying to somebody the other day, “There’s only two artists I’ve ever worked with for more than a one night stand, as it were. That’s Paul McCartney, and Yoko Ono.” And I think that’s a pretty damned good choice!!"

John Lennon interview with DJ Dave Sholin, 1980

There are of course the what ifs. Would Stu still being alive mean that John was not as close with Paul? Maybe, highly doubtful though as the Beatles experience was so intense. If Stu remained a Beatle would John be as close with Paul? If Stu remained a Beatle he wouldn't be Stu so no. At the same time who knows what it would have been like if Paul and John were peers from the off? I said this to @the62ndbugsfan when it comes to Stu vs Paul (hi girl sorry i've made our chat a whole ass post lol) but to go a bit Wuthering Heights, soulmates are made as much from the earth as they are of the stars. What binds us is our experiences just as much as our personalities. There may be a universe where Stu and John took on the art world together or became inseparable bffs again after the Beatles disbanded, but it is not our universe. In this universe Stu tragically died and John and Paul chose to become Lennon/McCartney and artistically unite themselves forever.

Even going back to Stu's lifetime, I've said it before and I'll say it again I find it interesting that not only did John choose to go to Paris with Paul rather than pay to meet up with Stu somewhere but that they arranged to meet up with Juergen and nobody told Stu until they'd already gone. Stu was shocked and didn't know if it meant the end of the Beatles which is a pretty big thing for him not to know about. Why didn't John tell him if they're apparently still writing long letters? Was it because he really wanted to do this with Paul and didn't want to hurt Stu's feelings? And that's really the point I want to make here. Due to his trauma John was preoccupied with reinforcing ranking of relationships within his life. But the thing is friendship rankings are made up guidelines and the reality is far more complicated. You can have a designated best friend but feel closer to another friend at times, you can want to do one thing specifically with one friend and not the other for various reasons. You can (as I do) have more than one equal best friend. Friendship as with most relationships are in a constant state of flux and each friendship you have will give and mean a different thing, even if they are of similar value to you.

Paul may have ended up closer to John than Stu had been, but that doesen't make John's relationship with Stu any less special. Nor does Stu negate the significance of Paul. Whilst both fit into John's pattern of intense relationships and demands related to that, both had unique positions and meaning to him. Considering what I've gone into about John's closeness to Stu, it actually says something deeply, borderline unnervingly, intense about John and Paul that Paul pipped Stu to the post. Maybe it's time Beatles bios accept the fact that John Lennon just wouldn't be into them like that, stop using a tragically prematurely deceased young man as a prop in their jealous psychological warfare against Paul McCartney, stop perpetuating one of the most damaging games that John did to his loved ones and allow both relationships the space to shine and showcase the amazing talent that was the Beatles and those that surrounded them.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part thirty-two

summary: the end.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(

ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!

if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!

just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')

see you soon!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.

Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.

It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.

Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.

"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.

"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.

"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."

"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."

"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.

"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.

"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.

The funeral.

All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.

"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."

"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"

You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."

"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."

"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.

"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."

The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.

You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.

It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.

Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."

You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.

You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.

You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.

Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.

He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.

Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.

He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.

As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.

Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.

"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.

"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."

"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."

You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.

"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.

"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.

"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.

"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."

He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."

"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.

This was it. This was your breaking point.

Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.

Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"

"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.

When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."

You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."

"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."

You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.

"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.

"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."

"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."

You pry your eyes open to face him.

"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.

"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."

"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.

"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."

"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.

"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"

"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.

He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"

You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.

"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.

Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.

"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."

"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."

"That should not be enough, though." You insist.

"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.

He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."

"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.

He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"

"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.

You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[amarriageoftrueminds]

Hi. I'm somewhat confused about how the Winter Soldier's past is handled for Bucky in Thunderbolts. I mean, as part of his political campaign for Congress, his past had to be touched upon, and I think that's where Bucky's comment to Mel about if she claims to know him, she must know his history too comes from. And while I'm very glad that no one has rubbed Bucky's past in his face and openly criticized him for it (not even Val! that's saying a lot), I can't help but feel that Mel's “I know who you are” comments, and the other about whether "she's talking to Congressman Barnes or the Winter Soldier" feel like some sort of criticism. Because precisely, if like many others, Mel knows Bucky's past (besides the information that was given publicly by Bucky now being a public figure but also by the information OXE has on him) she should know that the Winter Soldier's name is not accompanied by positive connotations because of course it's tied to Hydra as their tool that was used to accomplish their purposes.

I've heard some people consider the fact that Bucky said that, unlike Mel, he didn't choose who he worked for, as groundbreaking, when in reality I think it's not much different than the way he has always acknowledged that he had no choice (the same thing he acknowledged as Steve in CW, and the same thing he said to Yori in TFATWS) but it's a line that is always accompanied by the unspoken words “but I did it”. Although I think compared to “Hydra was my people” from TFATWS that's a big improvement.

So while I think that, thankfully Bucky didn't face criticism and backlash for trying to make the Winter Soldier look like an innately bad/corrupt part of him, I think it's still handled with a certain wariness so to speak...

I would love to know your opinion. And sorry for the long ask xd

@buckydeservesthebest

Yh, I can't really speak on this much as I haven't seen the film, but characters continuing to refer to Bucky as the Winter Soldier is fucking annoying and inaccurate, and calling what he did 'working for' Hydra is still mischaracterizing it. (If that is a direct quote; but even if they used the phrase 'did for' or whatever, that's still missing the most crucial point.)

He didn't work for them, he was enslaved by them. They may as well be paraphrasing that Thor: Ragnarok line. 'Oh, he wasn't a slave, he was a 'prisoner with a 'job.'

Not much better than calling Hydra 'his people,' IMO!

And the Winter Soldier being framed as a part of Bucky, a corrupt part, is a stupid retcon from TFATWS' writers who want to victim-blame/villainize him and were too lazy to watch the movies. Absolute bollocks.

(That line should be 'Congressman Barnes or Bucky Barnes', because those are the only two fuckn options. Although CACW also has Steve saying similar stupid shit; you could already see them beginning to turn on Bucky, even then!)

I've said it elsewhere, but the Soldier is not a part of Bucky; it's the absence of Bucky. No personality, no memories, no capacity to have morals because of said lack. It's a blank void that can be ordered to act in anyway you want. (Which you'd think they'd pick up on in a film that has Bob in it, but oh well!)

The Soldier was an automaton with a good man trapped inside; the source of that metallic scream which made CATWS's soundtrack (why else would he be screaming, if this was always a part of him? wouldn't it be a metallic laugh, instead? if this was a part of him, why wouldn't he retain his personality? It's important not to mix comics and MCU here!)

It was not some Evil sub-personality that was always alive inside Bucky and just waiting to come out under the right stressors.

To use a fantasy analogy...

You could say that Bucky is not a werewolf; but the Winter Soldier is a zombie.

That's it. The Winter Soldier is the zombie of Bucky Barnes.

Imagine Hydra had Steve bitten by a zombie and turned into a zombie, Hydra made him do some zombie stuff, but then he got cured and turned back to normal.

Now, you might look at Zombie!Steve and say 'that's Steve,' but you wouldn't look at completely sane and normal Cured!Steve and say 'he's a Zombie.'

But we've got this situation where Bucky has been cured of his zombiedom and got his mind back and everything, to the point where he can even become an elected official (!)

And yet characters are still coming up to him like 'omg am am I talking to Bucky Barnes or ...The Zombie??' 👀

Bitch do you see him eating brains? Is he stumbling around and visibly rotting? No?? Then stfu then! 🤬

[katzkinder]

Since Mukuro and Tsuna are still weirdly connected, Tsuna’s sometimes gotten glimpses of things he wasn’t ever supposed to, and vice versa on Mukuro’s end. He usually shoves Tsuna awake once he notices Tsuna’s accidentally plopped into one of his memories, but

If it’s one of Tsuna’s, he’ll let it play out without interruption. It’s never anything of note, anyhow, so expending energy to wake him would be pointless >liar mc liar face

Eventually this gets him more than he bargained for

There’s also a lot of stuff in Tsuna’s mind that, once he’s aware of it, it makes him go okay hold up

Because it’s not like he ever assumed that Tsuna was some happy go lucky idiot, but he also assumed he wasn’t actually thinking about much in that head of his he’s sure is more fluff than brains

Gokudera-kun is going to be disillusioned with me any day now. I’m grateful to him but I feel bad for somehow tricking him like this. I shouldn’t let him get too close but I don’t want to hurt him, either. What should I do? I’m sorry, Gokudera-kun. Please don’t hate me when you figure it out.

Yamamoto is such a nice person; he shouldn’t be stuck around someone like me. He’s like Kyoko-chan like that. Nice to everyone, even useless, no good me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she fell in love with him. Of course the two nicest people in the whole school would date, right? I’m so worried about him… I don’t know how to handle the way he lights up when he sees me. What should I do? Don’t try and hurt yourself again. Don’t get hurt for my sake, either. I’m sorry I’m so weak…

Hibari-san doesn’t treat me differently from anyone else. He’s super scary but he still bothers to treat me like I’m normal. I think if even he began to act like I wasn’t worth his time I would seriously just give up and call it quits. Things have gotten so messed up. I’m relying on a psychopath like that kicking my ass to reassure me I still mean something. If even someone who values strength above all else still has hope for me what choice do I have?

Reborn’s going to give up on me. Reborn’s going to give up on me. Reborn’s going to give up on me. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go— It would be just like me to be so useless I beat the world’s greatest, huh?

The only words he ever found in relation to himself, and words that shake him to his core, are very simple ones

Please wait for me

One time, though, he managed to dive deep enough to find the source of Tsuna’s Dying Will, and he keeps going back despite knowing it’s a pointless, silly thing to do.

There are still the broken remnants of a cage around it. If he sits near it like this, he can almost pretend he isn’t in Vindicare. The cage is still red hot. He’ll burn his fingers if he tries to handle them. The flames reach out to him but don’t touch.

It is not a soft, warm home.

It is something which, if he allowed it to, would consume him right down to his marrow.

This is how Sawada Tsunayoshi has always survived

One day he sees that flame guttering, and he feels panic swell in his throat, because what could possibly, after all this time, be dimming that roaring inferno

There’s ice at the base now

Tsuna made a binding vow to destroy Vongola, that rotten, shambling corpse of a man’s ideals puppeteered by someone with a face a lot like his.

He knows better than anyone that when you make that kind of vow, if you don’t fulfill it… There are consequences.

The mafia has practically deified Vongola Primo’s will into its own separate entity.

The ring, rebuilt and no longer fit for any other, past or future, weighs cold on a young boy’s finger, demanding he make good on his promise

Mukuro wants to destroy the mafia. He’ll get his wish. He’ll make sure of it.

Sawada Tsunayoshi… Is too kind for that life, anyhow.

[mirensiart]

Speaking of hard to identify sources of pain/high pain tolerance, I wanted to share a headcanon that would be a “fun” little mystery for the chain:

To me, it makes sense that Wild would have fibromyalgia and not just because of the extent of his injuries. The shrine had to turn all of his nerves back on so it wouldn’t surprise me if that caused them to fire of pain signals randomly with no explanation.

The thing with fibro is that it has like half a dozen different kinds of pain that have no consistent triggers and just flare up without warning. Things like not getting enough sleep or food, stress, and overstimulation (including from pain, which is fun) are common sources but sometimes the body is just like 🔪💥🔥 for ✨mystery reasons✨

So suddenly everyone feels like all their skin is on fire but no one’s injured (not even Twilight, for once!) and it takes them forever to figure out who’s even in pain. When they do eventually figure it out everyone has to explain that no, that’s not a thing skin normally does, why would you think that? But if it’s been like that since Wild stumbled out of the shrine how is he supposed to know? This is like having to learn what a normal hylian range of motion is all over again!

Oh my god this is so good!!!

I remember someone sent me an ask with a similar idea, that since he woke up without memories all he's known is a life with chronic pain and doesn't realize that that isn't normal

I do hc him to be one of the links with highest pain tolerances, but he's very sensitive still.

I do like this a lot, thank you so much for sharing!!!

[multiverse-sya]

Some stuff on how I was before I really 'awakened':

I managed to catch up with an old friend and it made me realize a few things. It's funny how little things seem to have changed from my teenager years ~15 years ago, despite all of the breakthroughs that I went through since then with this state of being. I was good friends with someone at the time, before I knew anything about nonhumanity, kinity and the like. Despite it all, I'm some how the same person with the same personality, likes and dislikes as back then. Before I caught up with my old friend, I expected myself to be so completely aloof and different because of how differently I perceive myself now. Because now, I fully know and acknowledge that I'm an entity masquerading as a human. To my surprise, I don't behave that much differently since the time I was a teenager, despite all of these situations (excluding the current horrors of being an adult now-that one is new. I am much more tired with life now.)

Back then, I thought I was just a normal human, even though I've always had animalistic, feral tendencies. I felt like I wasn't human and despised being one, but I just ignored it. But fast forward to the present, and despite being so blindly oblivious to my sapient alien roots even when I was 15 years old, I still feel like the same exact person. Even if I didn't know I was just performing humanity as a disguised alien creature when I was a teenager because I completely forgot about it. I now have a completely different philosophical and spiritual understanding of the universe around me that differs from what I was taught in christian religion, and I do view human culture differently now than I used to before I entered my 20s, but I still treat the other humans I've already known back then the same way as I did before my awakening to this. I guess it's just that treat myself differently, even though I am always hiding it from others.

I used to feel like I was part of humanity. I thought there was no alternative to it (haha). It's in the same way an animal imprints on an adopted mother of a different species, despite never having been that species in the first place. And now I just feel nonhuman at all, because I feel like I am 'allowed' to do that and that it's possible to do so. I hated it when I was called a human back in my childhood, and was told that's the truth. I was just never content with that. I know for a fact that I would have called myself a cheetah therian back then, but now I believe it to be some sort of anteatype, and some sort of vague-heart type. I still see myself in them, without identifying or feeling like one. (I used to think I was a wolf therian, but that 'type is clearly an anteatype now. It's just completely gone.)

I know that the old discourse over whether or not you were 'valid' if you weren't born as your 'type is dumb and insignificant in day to day life. But when I look back in hindsight, a lot of my sapient alien instincts and memories were already there, they were just greatly overshadowed because I had no basis to really compare it to up until I actually looked into the source and did the research. The stylistic artwork of the media/source threw me off as well at first, so I never really considered being that species until I compared my phantom shifts to them and went, "Oh fuck."

I also experience the same sort of painful, nostalgic feelings for my old brethren from my other lifetime as I do with human friends from this lifetime. The same protectiveness, the same melancholy and sadness for not seeing them for so long, for one reason or another. I even felt this way towards kids my age that I didn't know well when I was very young, whenever I didn't know if I'd see them again, even if we met just once. Evidently, I still get it, but it was much worse in my first decade of life here. Exotrauma is a bitch. I lost many friends back then and will leave it at that.

Sometimes, I do wish to talk to my friends the same way I did back then. Like clasping a hand on a shoulder, heavy with respect, and calling them my brother, sister or friend. It's another interesting bleed over. I know alterhumans often talk about not being able to befriend humans. But despite being so very nonhuman, I'm able to befriend them just fine. I may not tell them about my exogeiny bullshit, but that's ok, even if I want to tell them sometimes. Maybe one day. Most of the people I befriend are orthohumans (or assumed to be one). The reason why I befriend so many is just because there's more of them out there in different spaces. And I only talk to one alterhuman on a regular daily basis. Yeah, it would be nice to have an alterhuman friend irl, but it is what it is.

[delphianactuallydoodling]

The Gallery Wall pt 2: electric boogaloo The Yap Post

DISCLAIMER: I read this book once and almost a year ago. I tried my very best to refresh my memory through various ways, but really I should just read it again.

I tried to keep everything as book accurate as possible, but if I skipped over stuff then that's probably why. I plan to make more fanart in the future, so I'll keep any corrections in mind for the future.

That being said, I want to get into some of the inspiration and thoughts behind my designs for the Greek class.

A general critique I have for people's designs for all the characters is that they exist in a sort of time period-less void. We know the story is set in the 80's, yet that style is not explored very much. I don't know if this is because people easily associate the 80's with neon colors and other garish aesthetics that feel like a total opposite of the ambiance of this novel. However that's not an accurate portrayal of what a lot of 'normal' people were wearing during that time.

Despite the Greek class being maybe slightly old fashioned in an old money sort of way I don't believe they would totally disregard the trends of the time.

Camilla

Camilla quite suits the 80's. The trend of pastel clothing is in line with Donna's description of the twins wearing mostly white or other light colors.

I'm not necessarily opposed to the Camilla with a bob agenda, but there were more than enough icons in the 80's that were rocking a pixie cut adjacent hairstyles for me to go even shorter. I ended up going with Molly Ringwald for my main source of inspiration hairstyle wise. The curls add to the angelic description.

Longer hair than a bob is out of the question. I find it a kind of weird design choice. Sometimes it comes off to me as if people can only view Camilla as either a tomboy or very femme. I'm a firm believer that short hair is neutral and doesn't necessarily lean toward masculine looking. It's all about styling and Camilla certainly seems to like feminine things.

I imagine her to be slightly boyish looking, because she resembles her brother. I sketched them at the same time to ensure they would resemble each other, not having one particular refence in mind. Ironically I think my earlier versions resemble each other more than my final versions. Charles' design felt lackluster however so I redid it.

Charles

Originally I wanted to give Francis Wham era George Michael hair, but then I read his description again. However Charles is a sort of popular attractive man for the time period, so why would he not have big hair. Thus the transfer was made. This did have as a consequence that in some stages of the process he very heavily resembled princess Diana. I thought that was quite funny.

For Charles I did the opposite of what I did with Camilla. For Camilla I made sure she was pretty in a bit of a boyish way, so for Charles I made sure he didn't turn out too masculine. We don't want Chad Charles.

Francis

Here I'm starting to doubt myself a little bit. A lot of people draw Francis with slightly longer hair, but compared to Camilla he doesn't get any people complaining. I might have missed a passage somewhere, but I also like the idea that my interpretation is just different from others.

When I decided for myself I was going to give him very short hair I knew I had to draw some inspiration from Annie Lennox. She's obviously very fashionable, as is Francis, and known for wearing suits. I had to tweak the design to be more classical and to include a necktie. He feels very maximalist, so on top of his described pince-nez glasses I drew him with an earring and a bunch of brooches.

As for the make-up I know he'd get hate crimed on campus, but it's a fun thing to imagine. Although I left it out of the final design for that reason.

I don't mind Evgeniy Shvarts as a fancast. I think he has similar facial features to what I had imagined.

Henry

Henry is often designed too skinny and/or too conventionally attractive. It's a difficult balance to keep him looking severe and off putting enough, but also broad enough and almost handsome. One thing is for certain that man doesn't give a flying fuck about what currently in style. I haven't been able to figure out if those 'English suits' have a particular cut in that time, but I can't imagine him walking around in an 80's oversized suit with big shoulder pads. However not a tight 70's suit either, so take that as you will.

I'm not too mad at Zane Holtz as a fancast. He's certainly broad enough, but I find him to be too conventionally attractive. However it's a lot better than some others I've seen. I also don't believe him to wear his hair like that. Not a lot of people notice his scar, so that leads me to believe it's at least partially covered by his hair.

I ended up giving him browline glasses, because I thought if I ever did end up drawing Bunny them having different glasses would set them apart more design wise. However after I finished the drawing I saw that passage that says he has the same wire frame glasses that bunny has. I like that the browline glasses make him look even more stern, but if we were to go for accuracy I'd have to change it.

Richard

Richard was the hardest for me to design and honestly I still don't know what I imagine his facial features to be. All I knew was that I wanted him to have a fuck ass haircut. He seems like the sort of dude that hasn't changed his hair in years. The only thing that's changed is that his mom used to cut it and now he does it himself. That's how I landed on a late 70's, Beatle-esque mop that's in a constant state of being slightly too long. He's somehow handsome enough to pull it off though, much to his own confusion I imagine.

He's wearing a sweatshirt that is noticeably less formal than the others. Paired with that tweed jacket he borrowed from Judy Poovey.

General

I'm going to be honest I didn't have a particular idea behind the strip of light besides that the drawing would be too boring without some interesting lighting.

Rapid fire composition choices:

Henry's portrait is greyscale and his frame features a rose to give the whole thing an in memoriam feel

His portrait is bigger and in the top corner to make it feel like he is looming over the rest

Francis' portrait looks more like a painting than a portrait photo to compliment his classic style

The obvious stain where another portrait used to be. His presence can't be completely erased by that and the little frame featuring bunnies still being on the wall

Richard's photo is sun bleached and slightly damaged. Like he either took it with him from home and they never bothered to replace it or the rest of the group just didn't care enough to be gentle with it.

That's also the reason why his is the smallest portrait and is placed in the corner.

The ferns in the bottom corner

Butterfly for transformation corny

If you're still here sorry for yapping so much and THANK YOU for reading. Thank you in general for y'alls nice comments and reblogs. I read all your yapping, I love it. Please let me know your thoughts!

As I said in my last post I want to make more fanart in the future.

[spacechip707]

Sweet Wishes

Summary: When MC presents him with the first birthday cake he’s had in decades, Xavier finds his emotional defenses wrecked.

A slight AU to the cake scene for Xavier’s bday event. Fluff and sugar ahead. 

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A/N: Xavier’s bday week isn’t over yet!! So please enjoy this quick little Love and Deepspace AU fic because I wanted him to cry at some point during the event. 

Dedicating this little fic to my twin and bestie @my-soul-sings as a thank you for resurrecting me out of the writer’s block grave <3 

Also available to read here on Ao3! 

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It’s the cake that destroys him. 

Out of the countless Wanderers and battles he’d faced, out of all the failed attempts to find her, the pain he’d felt then had only fueled him to press forward. To what?

He hadn’t known. 

Even when this girl appeared in the no hunt zone like an angel from his dreams, he knew it wasn’t her. So he refused to allow himself to feel anything more than a quiet fondness.

For decades, he’d kept distant from most people. They were temporary factors in his existence, doomed to disappear or fall away with the turn of a new generation.

But MC…

There was no magnanimous event that caused the shift within him. Rather, her little gestures gradually whittled away at his centuries-old shield without his knowing.

It was the mundane afternoon calls, asking what he ate or wondering if he’d like to join her for a walk. The glimmer in her eyes when they played cards was another contributor, a tell-tale sign of her good-hand. When Xavier felt especially generous, he’d let her win just to hear her laugh, even at his expense. 

Maybe worst of all were the random encounters—at the store, on the bus, while hunting. Her face would visibly brighten to the point Xavier often debated if he’d subconsciously manipulated his own Evol just to emphasize her wonder. It was as if seeing him were the highlight of her entire life.

All of it deconstructed his defenses, culminating to this single point in time. The final blow. 

“Wh-what’s this?” he stammers out when she retrieves a lighter from her pocket. 

She stares at him with feign disbelief. “You’re not so old that you don’t know what a candle on cake is, right?” 

He never disclosed his age, and he is old, so he could certainly play into that. 

But he can’t manage it, even as a joke. His chest is tightening too quickly as she lowers the flame onto the wick. The last time he’d had a cake in front of him…a candle…she was there too. Well, not her, but…

“Happy Birthday to you,” she begins to sing slightly off key with a synchronized tap of her fingers. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Xav…” 

His unfinished name drifts into the air as she catches a glimpse of his face in the moonlight. Her eyes widen in panic. He’s confused until he finally gets a grip on his present reality and notices the purple and white fondant blurring together in his vision. 

“Are you—are you crying?” she says before hurriedly grappling at some nearby napkins. 

As if the acknowledgment breaks an internal dam, tears begin to spill freely onto his cheeks. He makes no effort to stop them, mostly because he’s stupefied by their existence. A breathy laugh catches in his throat when MC dabs a napkin against his now damp face.

“It’s not that…” he tries before his voice wavers. His face heats with MC’s concern anchored upon him, the soaked cloth clenched in her fists. “I’m sorry—you can finish singing.” 

Her eyes search his in an agonizing stretch of vulnerable silence. She’s young, and unlike him, memories of years past…lives past…don’t dim the sparkle in them. 

“I hear a lot of people get the birthday blues,” she says quietly, her hand lifting to gently rest atop his head. “It’s normal to feel like time is going too fast or that you’re behind.”

The irony of the statement slams into him, and more moisture accumulates at the edges of his lashes. Time was often the source of his loneliness, but not in the way she was thinking. 

Alarm flashes across her features again as she swipes another tissue against his face. “Ah! Sorry, I’m so bad at this,” she says, stepping closer. 

His hands catch her wrists, stopping her frantic ministrations midway. “MC,” he says, another breath of laughter escaping him at the sight of her distress on his account. “I’m not sad, I promise.” 

The pang in his chest is painful, but it’s tenderness, not melancholy, that causes the sensation. 

“But— “ she begins before her shoulders deflate. “I didn’t want to make you cry.”

It’s almost said as an apology—an unnecessary one. Xavier had grown more indifferent about his birthday with every passing year. It wasn’t until MC insisted they did something other than read a book did he realize how her strains of affection had wriggled their way into his head. 

For the first time in years, he was enjoying this day. Not that he wanted to celebrate himself…rather, he wanted to celebrate with her. 

The chair creaks against the cement as he stands, his hands still clutching hers. With a light tug, she loses her balance and staggers forward into his chest. He envelops her in his arms, savoring her touch when she relaxes into his embrace. 

“I’m grateful,” he says after a long moment, her hair soft against his face. “That was all.”

It’s insufficient for what he’s actually feeling. A memory tugs at the back of his mind, and even if it’s far off, he remembers it vividly. 

It invokes the smell of vanilla and flowers, the comfortable heat of the mellow sun on his cheeks, and an inexplicable warmth that blossoms from his chest. 

His gaze sweeps over his current surroundings, littered with the little details she’d prepared these last few days, and he’s aware of the direct contrasts. 

Chocolate instead of vanilla. Paper lantern stars among the potted flowers. The moon instead of the sun beaming down on them. 

However, that warmth is very much the same. 

Thank you for letting me relive it, he thinks, unable to articulate his gratitude aloud.

She loosens herself from his hold just enough to look up at him. Her focus flickers to his lips, and his usually slow heartbeat quickens in response. 

She presses onto her tiptoes to brush her nose against his. “Happy Birthday, Xavier,” she finishes, barely above a whisper.

Allowing his eyelids to flutter shut, he relishes in the splendor of the next few seconds. Her closeness and the brush of her fingers against the nape of his neck leave him chasing his next breath. 

But before Xavier can close the meer centimeters left, the saccharine scent around them turns acrid. 

His eyes snap open to meet MC’s own stunned expression.

“The candle!” she gasps as they both whirl towards the forgotten cake. A pool of wax bubbles at the center and only a small stub of wick remains lit. 

MC shoves him haphazardly back into his seat, tapping his shoulder wildly. “Just hurry and make a wish!”

Xavier’s mind draws a blank as he finds himself facing the cake once more. With all the years he’d lived, he should have a long list of desires, and yet in this very moment, his heart is full. 

Still, he squeezes his eyes shut and blows out sharply. The weak flame vanishes into a thin trail of smoke. 

MC softly claps her hands together before coming around the table. Xavier leans forward to observe the details of the cake now that tears weren’t obscuring his vision. Purple streaks swirl through the white cream, and the delicate gold dust scattered throughout reflects the glittering constellations overhead. 

“Did you make it yourself?” he asks, though the answer is obvious by the half-squished fondant star in the corner. 

MC nods proudly. Her confidence only wanes when her eyes fall on the puddle of half-dried wax cratering the icing in the center. A defeated sigh drifts from her lips. “Xavier, I think baked goods tremble when they see you—and you didn’t even make this one.” 

“Maybe I’m a legendary monster in their world,” he says seriously, pleased by the soft chuckle he elicits from the girl. His attention flicks to her briefly before returning to her diligent fingers extracting the wax. “It’s pretty either way.” 

MC hums in disagreement. “The icing on top made it prettier.”

With a small spoon, she swipes a lump of sugary fluff from one of the corners and pops it in her mouth. “It still tastes good though—so that’s all that matters.”

A remnant of the white icing is smudged against the edge of her mouth, but Xavier says nothing, electing to commit the image to memory instead. 

Still oblivious to her appearance, she collects another scoop from a different side and extends it out to him. “Want to taste it?” 

Xavier’s lips lift in a small smile as his gaze trails from her hand up to her face. Those tendrils of affection are winding inside of his chest again, only tightening their hold at the brilliant luster reflected in her eyes. 

She was looking at him like that again, her entire countenance brightening as she waited expectantly. He was accustomed to being a loner—a shadow passing through the crowd before disappearing into a flash of light. 

But now, she was aware of him. More than that, she was anticipating his reaction, his thoughts, his feelings—and not just because it was his birthday. 

It was…overwhelming. 

Unable to stop himself, Xavier rises to his feet, not quite sure what he wants to do or say. However, when he peers down at her again, his body acts before his mind can catch up. 

Swooping forward, he catches her mouth with his own. 

Immediately, he is bombarded with her intense sweetness. 

She tastes like sugar and stars and lavender—as if all the promises she’d adorned on him that day lingered on her lips, reaffirming her vows even as she melts into him. 

At her returned fervor, his smile unfurls the kiss, a result of his physical inability to contain his bliss any longer. 

“It’s very sweet,” he murmurs into the meager space  between them. His thumb traces the outline of her jaw and brushes away the little bit of icing he hadn’t caught. 

When he meets her gaze again, her countenance is radiating with fondness just as it had at the fountain. 

“Do you want to know what I wished before?” he says, suddenly feeling flustered by her rapt attention. 

Her expression contorts into stern frown. She steps back, though she can’t go far with his hands greedily holding their grip at her waist. “No! If you tell me, it won’t come true.”

Xavier hums thoughtfully, bumping her nose with his own. “Then can I tell you what I didn’t wish for?”

She falters a moment before pursing her lips. It’s obvious her curiosity is winning over her superstition. “I guess that’s alright.” 

A chuckle scrapes past Xavier’s throat, but he schools his giddiness, clasping his hands together over the small of her back. 

“I didn’t wish not to revisit the sea of flowers with you next year,” he says. “And I didnt wish not to watch a real meteor shower with you. And I desperately did not wish not to spend every birthday I have left in time with you.” 

A soft pink dusts her cheeks, growing deeper with every “not wish”. Her hands cup his face and she gives him several tight squishes—as she tends to do often. 

“Don’t tell me you wasted your wish on that,” she says, her voice noticeably strained. “I promised you those things, so I’ll make sure it happens.” 

“A wish on you is never wasted,” Xavier returns, pulling from her hold lest she assault him further. “Besides, those are my true feelings, and really…it’s all I want.” 

MC releases his face to wrap her arms around his neck once more. “That’s all you want?” She raises a brow. “Even more than those ugly pictures of me back?” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“They’re not ugly,” he insists, though he grows solemn at the smirk that pulls at her mouth. “But I do want those back.”

“It would be a shame if they got lost.”

“I won’t let you borrow anything again,” he threatens knowing full well he’d lend her his very life source if she asked. 

Her shoulders shake in a fit of giggles before she rests her head against his chest. Though there’s no music, they begin to sway to a melody only their tied souls seem to hear. 

“Fine. Think of it as your second to last birthday gift,” she murmurs after awhile. 

“I think you’ve showered me with enough today,” he says. “Though…why second to last?”

MC lifts her head as they slow to a stop, her expression more somber and sincere. “I’m cashing in my wish early,” she explains, her fingers fiddling with the lapel of his blazer. “For the meteor shower we’ll see in the future.”

“And what’s that?” Xavier pauses. “I mean…what’s your not-wish?”

Her lips quirk upwards at the joke before she lets out an unsteady breath. Her eyes lift to his, drenching him with her fierce conviction. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Xavier. And not just in this one. Every world out there…every planet, every universe—I wish you happiness in each one.”

His throat is constricting again, and maybe a few more tears leak from his barely dried eyes, but it’s okay. With all the smiling and laughter throughout the day, a few bouts of crying was justified. 

However, it seemed that MC’s wish would be granted early.

Because as they sit under the stars and eat sugary cake—and even as they pull pieces of wax from their mouths with heady laughter—Xavier feels his chest fill with the warmth of the sun. 

Whether this would be his last birthday or the first of many more celebrations, he would hold fast to this memory with everything inside of him.

Because in this exact moment in time and space, he was blissfully happy.

[hyacinthusmemorial]

is it only me, who goes like "Apollo must have flashback to hyacinth dying , when he saw Achilles and dead Patroclus,

Am I the only one who thinks of this? Okay

If that’s your personal head canon, go right ahead. Believe what you want to, nobody will stop you. 👍😉 I think its definitely a sweet sentiment, and a fun little brain worm.

But, I don’t think Apollo would react that way for for quite a few reasons. The first is mythology and the second is psychology and the third is genre.

The mythological reason is that Apollo is directly and purposefully responsible for Patroclus’s death, and he definitely hates Achilles. Like actually. The List of Top Ten People Apollo hates has Achilles twice on it. If he was in a room with Hitler, Stalin, and Achilles, and he had a gun with two bullets in it, he would shoot Achilles twice. He wants Achilles to suffer, and when Patroclus dies he tells Hector that he’s the third guy to kill him, but Apollo was the first to kill him. Because I think everyone in the Trojan war knows Apollo and Achilles hate each other. Apollo because Achilles murdered his sons (plural) and Achilles because he knows Apollo’s going to kill him. Reasons for their bitter rivalry can be found in this post here. There are more probably too.

As far as the psychological aspect, let’s assume Apollo’s psyche is like a human’s (which I do not think it totally is, but that’s another post). Trauma and Grief are two completely separate experiences. Grief is a normal human thing which we are given excellent coping skills to overcome by nature. People die. It’s a fact of life. But, HOW people die can be traumatic. For example, if your in a war and you watch your buddy die from a mine exploding and he doesn’t die right away, that’s traumatic. The grief is still separate from the trauma. Its closely aligned, but its separate. Trauma on the other hand is a situation that humans are not equipped to handle—its a situation outside the psychological norm. So our brain adapts normally to an abnormal situation.

I think the only true similarity between Patrochilles/Hyapollo deaths is that they were gay and one of them died before the other. If anything, Apollo was feeling a little vindictive when Patroclus died. He was the arm of fate that killed Patroclus, and Achilles absolutely deserved the death and destruction of everything he held dear in my POV. He was a serial assaulter and a war criminal.

Another reason why flashbacks just don’t work is because flashbacks are a trauma response. I think there’s a separate issue where one might live in the memories of a loved one’s passing, but that’s separate from a flashbacks. Flashbacks from PTSD are when the subconscious fear overwhelms the conscious. It requires a trigger, which can be anything and sinister—subtle and terrible. We know from the ancient authors that one of Apollo’s trigger is a westerly wind. @gingermintpepper had an excellent post providing several sources about Apollo’s approach to Hyacinthus and Asclepius’s deaths.

A flashback is a fear response in a situation that does not require this response based off of a trigger that puts the sub-conscious into a flight/fight mode and makes someone relive a previous traumatic experience. So for example Apollo might feel a western wind and relive Hyacinthus’s death or fear that Zephyrus is about to hurt him or the person he is with. This also depends on coping skills, and whether the person has developed grounding skills to put them back in the present.

I don’t believe that the situation with Patroclus/Achilles is triggering in the right way to elicit a flashback in Apollo. Patroclus and Achilles deaths are pretty different from Hyacinthus’s. So even if he had a grief response it would be minimal. At least from my perspective, one of my parents died when I was a child, and I had to take care of them while they were sick. I take care of a lot of sick people in my day to day, and I will say I rarely ever experience something that puts me back into the mode I was in when my parent died. I walk past the room my parent died in sometimes, cause I work in the hospital that they died in, and I am alright because I recognize the situation and I’m able to accept they died there. Alternatively, what does illicit a response in me is a certain smell my parent had when they were dying. I recognize it in patients sometimes, and I can have a visceral response to that, but again, I have learned how to appropriately deal with these sorts of things because “improve, adapt, overcome.”

Trauma is absolutely just a part of living in the world. Everyone has their own life story and troubles and triggers and struggles. But I don’t think Apollo/Hyacinthus connects to Patroclus/Achilles in any intense way.

Alternatively, I think perhaps something Apollo might have a more visceral response to is Hermes and Crocus, who are quite nearly the same dang story. That’s Apollo’s brother, and he loses someone the same way Apollo lost someone. That would open up gateways of intense suffering.

As far as genre goes, Apollo and Hyacinthus have a horror story parading as a romance story. Zephyrus is a sinister, invisible monster—he causes violence in a place where violence does not belong. On the other hand, Patroclus/Achilles is a war story—violence is expected. They both absolutely knew they were going to fie in that war, so their agony is expected from the beginning. Hyacinthus’s loss is unexpected and therefore, grievous. Not that losing your lover/cousin in a war is less horrific—it’s just prepared for, while losing your lover in a meadow while playing discus is…not.

I don’t mean that your personal view is wrong in anyway. Apollo is a divine character and anybody can have any view of him they would like. A lot of people view him as the antagonist of the Iliad and Achilles’ story, which to me, he just isn’t. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I love perspectives and opinions. I like sharing mine, so I love it when people share theirs.