#anyway that wasn't the point of this post

[oh-no-its-bird]

You are making me EMOTIONAL thinking about baby kakashi losing his teeth and not having his dad around to ask about things now, not even specifically for fang reasons either 😭😭

I think I was late and lost my first took when I was almost seven and idk exactly when Sakumo died officially but. Idk. Something something the tragedy of potentially not even having a parent around to explain what is going on when you lose a tooth for the first time

I'm so glad u sent this actually bc I was thinking ab wanting to write a post ab this premise but wasn't sure how to phrase or start it

Kid Kakashi struggling through starting to lose his baby teeth after his father dies <33

Google tells me that children start losing their baby teeth around 6, and the general age I've seen for Kakashi when Sakumo kills himself is usually around that same number, so, it works out!!

You bring up such a good and fun point actually in just. Does Kakashi know what's happening to him? Has anyone explained to him that your teeth just naturally fall out when you're little?

One day, Kakashi goes to class and sees Obito, who's a few years older than him, bragging about how he "just lost my tooth the other day"

And Kakashi quietly goes to himself, "wow this guy is so bad at fighting, he got his tooth knocked out and he's happy about it. What a weirdo."

Obito is IGNORING the judgmental stares coming from Kakashi's direction, assuming Kakashi is just jealous of his super cool milestone of growing up

Thinking maybe Obito even comes over to try to brag about it, but Kakashi just goes "??? Why are you bragging about losing your teeth ??? God, you're such a freak"

And Obito is like, "I know ur just jealous BAKASHI. Because you are still a BABY while I am on my way to being a MAN"

And inside Kakashi, still deeply confused and weirded out, is like, 'why the fuck would I be jealous' but outloud he just glares and goes, "I've never lost any of my teeth because I never lose."

To which Obito loses his mind because he's like 9 and to a 9 year old that sounded kind of sick and how DARE Kakashi try and be cool about this

(In the background, Minato is well on his way to losing his mind trying not to laugh. Rin meanwhile is squinting and doing mental math as she tries to tell if Kakashi is joking or not)

But anyways like. Kakashi later losing his own teeth and freaking the fuck out about it. Is he sick? Is he dying? Should he go to the doctor?

Oh my god wait ok but Kakashi cornering Rin after a training session and demands she help diagnose him bc he doesn't want to go to the actual doctor or ask Sensei for help. And Kakashi admitting she's a "good med nin" and Rin is kinda going omg Kakashi conpliment,,,, life goals,,

But also like Kakashi thinks he's dying and she's SUPER flattered he thinks she can help but she's like. 10. And a med nin in training.

So she's kind of sweating like "omg what are ur symptoms, why do u think ur dying?"

And Kakashi is like my "fucking teeth are falling out !!!!!!"

And Rin is like "woah that sounds super scary and seriou— Hold on a second."

Kakashi goes as far as to take off his mask to show her, which goes to show how desperate he is rn because he'd usually never do that.

And Rin is torn between being tempted to pinch his cheek and pull at it like it's Mochi and also like. She's struggling SO hard not to laugh at this point because she knows if she does Kakashi will literally never forgive her

So Rin has to break it to Kakashi as gently as she can (and without laughing or cooing at his cute kid naivety) that don't worry, you aren't dying, this is normal

Kakashi doesn't believe her at first. But when he does he's suddenly overwhelmed by embarrassment. He will never recover. Hes so fucking glad he didn't actually go to the doctor or to sensei because at least Rin he can swear to secrecy FOREVER

Kakashi has to deal with his suddenly too big for his mouth adult fangs and keeps going to Rin to help heal the cuts they keep leaving on his lips ,,,,

Somehow Obito catches wind of this, and hears "Rin + helping with Kakashi's lips (???)" And thinks they're kissing and loses his goddamn mind in spectacular fashion.

Toddler drama....

Idk where Im really going with this, it ended up taking a life of its own

Uhhh anyways. Moving this conversation entirely:

You can copy pasted this exact concept onto Naruto for a really funny (and kind of awful) au where Naruto loses his first tooth and becomes convinced he's dying

He does actually try to go to the hospital but they try to turn him away, but when he blurts out that he's scared he's dying a particularly mean spirited doctor pretends to examine him then goes "oh no. You really are dying and have a week to live. Boohoo."

Naruto loses his fucking mind and makes a "things I want to do before I die" bucket list and then spends the next week desperatley trying to complete it bc hes convinced he's gonna die on the final day

This list includes but is not limited to:

- become Hokage

- start a family

- eat every single different kind of ramen on Ichiraku's menu

Idk how to make the first and third especially funny but like.

"Starting a family" ending up somehow leading to Naruto very aggressively trying to get literally anyone to hold his hand in a similar fashion to "Uchiha Sasuke's 10 step plan to get revenge" where Sasuke tries to get Shikamaru to marry him in his quest to "live a good life" to get revenge on Itachi, while Naruto hears Sasuke is looking for a husband and very loudly tries to get him to pick him instead

Which is actually a really fucking funny one on its own and now I'm just thinking about that instead, so I'll leave this post here

I got a little distracted, but. Thank you for ur ask !!!

[ai-the-broccoli]

enemies to lovers / but you'll never own my heart

@luzon-dove happy birthday, Quinn!! As a present, I decided to draw a piece fanart of your "blood in the walls of the yagami house" AU fic series, since I found it very well-written and full of super interesting ideas and concepts. I hope you like it!

[nerdykorgi]

QUICK YAP SESH: Location of Gravesfield from The Owl House

so uhm, while I am finishing the rest other art things I did decide at like 3 am to find the supposed "actual" location of Gravesfield. At least, what town would most likely be Gravesfield if it were real.

I used a lot of info from the wiki and that cool official Gravesfield Website Mock-Up that John Bailey Owen posted. (this thing in case no one knows what im talking about)

Anyways to get started, here's this poorly done thing i made in google draw lol, hopefully you can actually read some of it oof. Its color coded to the info below:

Firstly, I do find it interesting how Conneticut was actually the FIRST colony with a relatively large witch panic in the American colonies, happening 40 years before the infamous Salem Witch Trials.

To start off I think the most poorly backed-up possibility is Hamden.

The reason im suggesting Hamden is because it is Dana's hometown and she said she has taken a lot of major inspiration from it. Like churches and graveyards.

However, the reason I'm not drawn to it is because not only was it founded 1786, way over a decade Gravesfield was said to be founded, I also couldn't find too much about Hamden having Witch trials, but if they did it definitely wasn't as big as Wethersfield's or Hartford.

Now I'm basically stuck between Litchfield and Wethersfield.

Litchfield:

Litchfield I was drawn to because of its name really. It means Field of Corpses and that's basically the same thing as Gravesfield lol. On top of that, it also holds the county seat of Litchfield County, something Gravesfield supposedly is as well. (In modern day context of course.)

Also Gravesfield was said to be along Conneticut Route 109, putting right along either Washington pr Litchfield (which J. B. Owen said was probably false on the Washington part but at the same time he uses an image of Washington's river as stated below)

The thing is though, like Hamden it wasnt founded until the 18th century, and there was no witch trial things that i could find. :/

Which then led me to Wethersfield:

Now Wethersfield is WAY more appropriate in both time, setting, and history. Wethersfield was one of the first colonies to be pop-up around the correct time for the Wittebane brothers to arrive in Connecticut. Wethersfield was founded in 1633-34 and Gravesfield in 1635 (Mind the brothers were said to arrive in 1613 I think it was, either this was a continuity error or they were among the very first settlers in Gravesfield.)

Random but it was also called Watertowne before it was changed to Wethersfield.

Anyways, In the Mock-up website we can see at the top, a banner picture of a winding river. Now i did google search this image and it is actually Washington Ct, womp womp, but I think it could actually be pointing to another more prominent river in Connecticut and that's the actual Connecticut River, which Wethersfield is conveniently placed right next to.

Now lets look at a map of Wethersfield:

river, check check, and HOLY SHIT THAT COULD BE THE FLOODED GRAVEYARD LOL (where i circled) Sadly, Its not actually, but it shows how similiar the geography possibly is.

I think last and most importantly however is the fact that Wethersfield is known to have some of the earliest of the witch trials in Connecticut at the time. (There were 9 documented accusations and only 3 executions, one of which was a woman who openly admitted to using to witch craft, Mary Johnson, and a married couple name Joan and John Carrington.) This goes very well with the whole Witch Hunting thing.

Lastly I think the cherry on top would be that they both just look incredibly similar lol:

Also fun fact, If the Wittebane brothers did actually arrive in 1613~ they would have been among the Dutch settlers rather than the British, whom were the ones to found Wethersfield. Take that information how you will but I am certainly going to make some kind of headcannon out of it lol

Anyways more art soon once i actually finish it, but please, Let me know your guy's thoughts :D !

[arabellasleopardcoat]

You have no idea how your reblog made me cry. I had forgotten I had written this fic (It's the second I posted, and you can tell by the quality of it) and you caught me in an especially sensistive day. When I wrote it, the only thing I intended was to tackle consent issues in Westeros with a kind partner, and it was right after I watched the episode where Aemond went looking for Aegon in the brothels. The way my skin crawled! Of course men can suffer it too, and I was glad to see it on screen, but I knew they probably wouldn't do it justice, which prompted me to write this. The butchered treatment they gave it in S2 (One could argue the opposite point too, considering it may as well be him going back to his groomer, yet they didn't tell or show that, did they?) vindicated me.

I have never read the ASOIAF books, and I stopped watching the show after the first season, because it was that triggering to me. The amount of violence towards Dany, Brienne, the casual cruelty of men like Tywin and Joffrey, it was enough to kill me a little.

The start of HOTD wasn't promising either. While it depicts sexual violence in a subtler manner, it is still there. Aemma and the horrible opening scene, Alicent and even Helaena and Aemond at some points have made me cry. I have also cried reading fics from these fandoms (Fem!Jon Snow has so fiercely disgusted me sometimes by the things they do to her I have not stopped thinking of it for days) and I found I didn't have the heart to write violence that aligned so much with what I myself suffered. For some readers it can be interesting or freeing, the same for the writers, and I am not here to judge. But it is not for me. And it will never be. I am aware that my writing might not be for everyone either, it's why you will see my fics always properly tagged, and exageratedly so. It is also why I have left other fandoms, which are centered around violence even more than this one.

I just wanted to write what I needed to read at the time. It is also why I will always hold some degree of empathy for show Aemond, despite knowing he is a war criminal. I am interested to see how his relationship with Alys will develop.

To hear that my fic has touched your heart for its themes, and that you didn't think me silly or something for not portraying him as some sort of insensitive, evil person who is absolutely unfeeling means more than you know.

Anyway, sorry for traumadumping (More like ranting) on you. Thank you for reading and for feeling so touched by my words you decided to let me know.

Death in four moves (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Queen Alicent is starting to notice your lack of pregnancy. You discuss it with your husband, and come out a stronger marriage because of it.

A/N: No one dies in this one, guys. Just quoting Tyrion. For a more detailed warning, click read more and scroll until after the dots.

Warnings: Fluff. Discussions of SA, sex, erotic novels, infertility, miscarriages, and pregnancies (None actually happen in the fic)

Catapult /ˈkatəpʌlt/

noun

a forked stick with an elastic band fastened to the two prongs, used by children for shooting small stones.

In Cyvasse, a catapult can take out a dragon.

“It’s the third month you bleed.” Queen Alicent said, with a hint of disapproval. She had perfected just the right amount of passive aggressiveness when being nosy. Your eye twitched slightly. You understood now the resentment Princess Rhaenyra held for her, with your sheets being examined by the Queen daily, your moon’s blood carefully tracked and advised on when the best moment was to conceive. “When will you make me a grandmother?”

You sipped at your tea, buying yourself a few seconds to answer. You were having tea in Haelena’s chambers, a family meeting, if you will. More like an intervention, truly. Alicent sat next to Aegon, who was in his cups already and seemed uncaring about the discussion.

“Mother, you are already a grandmother.” Aemond pointed at the hostess herself, who was on her hands and knees showing a bug to her children. The twins blabbered to her, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of the scene. Seated next to Aemond, you gently squeezed his forearm in silent thanks. His lips barely curved up into a smile. Despite his kindness in helping you out, you knew what the Queen’s response would be. It was like you were actors in a well-rehearsed play, one that had been repeating for the past six weeks.

“Yes, but those are your brother’s children. I want you two to make me a grandmother, too.” The Queen explained, smiling at him. The first month, there had been relative peace. Aemond couldn’t have knocked you up that fast, everyone reasoned. Not while still attending to his duties in the way he did. But when the second month came, and the sheets were stained red once more, Alicent had been disappointed.

Being Aemond’s wife was not an easy task. At the rate it was going, you were starting to think it would have been easier, inheritance disputes aside, to be married to Aegon. It was not that Aemond was unkind. On the contrary, he was most amenable. He cared about you, treating you with respect and even making efforts to be friendly. His mother was the problem.

You see, when the time came for Aemond to be married, Queen Alicent had handpicked you, from all the eligible ladies in the realm. The bride for his favorite children had to be perfect. She had had, I kid you not, a list. The girl Aemond married had to be smart, to be able to match him and converse about the topics that interested him, but not too educated, less she had ideas about her role in society. Devout to the Seven, but not superstitious. Brave, but not brazen. Kind, but not overly so, less she was too familiar with those beneath her. Pretty, but not one of those intimidating beauties or too aware of it. A maiden, pure and sweet, but not innocent. And so on, the list went. You weren’t too sure what she had seen in you, but she had decided you were perfect for him.

Aemond, mother’s boy as he was, had been willing to try. And he was pleasantly surprised with you. Yours wasn’t the most passionate of marriages, but you were good friends. He enjoyed your sense of humor, and you two liked the same books. Marriages were built on less. But there was the issue of consummation. Or well. There was no issue, since it hadn’t happened yet.

Neither of you dared tell Alicent that the first night, when you had come to him in your wedding gown, shaking with fear, he had done you the kindness of sitting on the bed with a goblet of wine and pulling out a deck of cards. You remembered clearly the way he had drawled, so effortlessly self-assured “I was uncertain whether you knew how to play Cyvasse, but guessed this was a safe bet.” You had nearly laughed in relief, sitting next to him and explaining you didn’t know how to play it, but cards you could do.

It had gone like that, for three long months. Aemond came to your chambers once a week, and you two played cards or just sat down talking for the whole night. He had even started teaching you Cyvasse. You didn’t mind it. He was an attractive man, your Prince, but you two had been strangers before the wedding. It was sweet, and you were a practical woman. You had all the perks of marrying a prince, and none of the hardships. If this were what your entire life would be like, you could handle it. And you would have, were it not for your mother-in-law.

A knock on the heavy wooden doors jolted you out of your thoughts. The guards announced the Grand Maester.

“Just on time.” Queen Alicent muttered, and became him over with an imperious hand. The old man stepped closer, holding a jar with some dirt? At least to you, it looked like that. The Queen took it from his hands, and opened it, grabbing your tea cup and stirring it into the drink before you could protest.

“Hare liver, pulverized with salmon. I had the maester prepare it for you, dear girl! You will have it at every meal.” Alicent beamed. Your grip on Aemond’s forearm became deathly. Aegon started laughing, before flinching suddenly. You weren’t able to tell if the one who had kicked him under the table had been your husband or your mother-in-law.

“I truly think there is no…” Aemond started to say, before getting interrupted.

“It is said to aid conception.” The Grand Maester bowed. His tone showed he wanted to be anywhere else but here, trapped between Alicent’s hopeful look, Aegon’s amusement and your indignant glare. His urge to leave was evident, not even flinching at the glare Aemond directed him for interrupting.

“Thank you, my Queen.” You answered, graciously. “Thank you as well, Grand Maester.” The man bowed again and exited the room. You eyed your now ruined tea, and Alicent. Her smile didn’t waver. You could tell she was waiting for you to drink it, and so, you smiled back and brought it to your lips.

It had to be the most foul concoction you had ever tasted. It was fishy and oily and oh so salty. You nearly spat it out, but controlled yourself, digging your nails into Aemond’s arm until he squirmed in pain. Aegon laughed again, before nearly choking in his haste to speak.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” While he laughed, you quickly took his cup and intended to drink his wine to get the taste out of your mouth. He made a grab for the wine, but so did Alicent.

“I read wine could harm conception.” She explained, passing it back to Aegon, who gave you a superior smirk.

“Mother, please. She looks like she is about to throw up.” Aemond pleaded and took the cup again. Aegon protested, but he brought the cup to your lips, urging you to drink from it. “Let her have it.”

“Aemond, I’m trying to help you both.” Alicent huffed. You quickly drank, less she tried grabbing the cup again. “We should do all that the books said. I have been reading on the topic, and I assure you…”

“I read…” Aegon interrupted loudly, giving you a wink. You knew he was about to do something disruptive, and that he would hold it over both yours and Aemond’s head for letting you escape. “Female pleasure is of the utmost importance for the woman to fall pregnant. So tell me, brother. Have you been pleasuring our dear…”

“Aegon!” Alicent yelled, slamming a hand over his mouth. “How can you say such things, with your children in the room? By the Seven, what will your brother’s wife think? That we are a family of…”

Aemond grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room.

“You have to tell her.” You said, as soon as you were outside. He was gently pulling you along towards the gardens. “I’m not drinking anymore of that stuff. And careful, or else I will ask her to give you some too.” It had been the last straw. Your sheets being checked, you could take. Her not so subtle nudges towards laying with your husband on certain days, you could too. But being prohibited wine, and forced to take the concoction with every meal, was not something you were willing to do. Not when it was not an issue of fertility, but of the lack of… Intimate relations between you two.

“I don’t want to disappoint her.” It was said quietly, but it broke your heart. You took his hand and squeezed. One of the things you disliked about your new life was the amount of pressure Aemond was under. He had quickly become your best friend, and you liked to think you were his too. It hurt you, to see how much he pushed himself and how the nerves and worries ate him away. You knew perhaps he didn’t return your feelings, which had been steadily growing since the chaste kiss you had shared in the Sept, and all the sleepless nights spent playing games and talking, but you loved him. And it always hurt, when those you loved were in pain.

“I doubt you will. She loves you. Just because you would rather not be a father yet…” You smiled at him, trying to sound sure of yourself. In truth, you knew the Queen would be disappointed. She so wanted Aemond to be a father. He was her favorite. A baby from him would be a dream come true.

“I do want to be a father.” It was said very quietly, almost a confession. You turned towards him, unable to believe your ears. Aemond was pointedly looking towards a bush of roses, not making eye contact. His posture, normally so perfect, was a bit slouched, as if trying to curl into himself. Ashamed. He was no fool, to not be aware of your feelings, so that meant…

“Oh.” You blinked. It felt like something shattered inside you. It was not children he disliked, but you. A few tears sprang to your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined. You wanted him to be happy, even if not with you. Lowering your eyes, so he didn’t see your heartbroken expression, you answered.“Oh. Well. I’m still a maiden. We could ask the High Septon for an annulment.”

Aemond turned to look at you, bewildered. Then, a scowl took over his face, purple eye narrowing in anger.

“Annulment? Why would I want that? Is that what you want, an annulment?” His voice was starting to raise, slightly. You shushed him, frantically. But he kept going, stepping closer, hands grasping roughly at your shoulders. Aemond forced you to look him in the eyes. “You dislike me that much?”

“No. No. But if you are not attracted to me…” A few tears fell down your cheeks. You hated it. You didn’t want him to think you were manipulating him. It was distasteful, your mother had always said. Crying for a man to stay, it was not behavior befitting of you. “A lady should never beg for any man to stay. Not even a Prince.” She had always said, and you tried to live by it. But she had clearly never met Aemond.

Aemond’s lips pursed in the way they did when he was thinking about something deeply. Was he actually considering your offer? The thought made more tears spring to your eyes. He looked torn. So, this was it, you were going back home. Annulment and ruin. No one would believe you a maiden with Alicent’s efforts, with how often Aemond visited your rooms. Who in their right mind would think two young newlyweds were spending their nights playing cards and board games? It stung, to think you had had one job, and you had failed. Bed your husband. Produce children. Any child, not even a boy. It was meant to be easy. You were a failure.

Before your thoughts could spiral even further, towards becoming a Septa and watching the man you loved marry another, Aemond surprised you. With a shaking hand, he brushed your tears away.

“It’s not that, either. I like you. I might even love you.” Aemond’s eye doesn’t meet yours, and it’s only that what halts your heart from roaring in happiness. You frown, rubbing at your temples. A headache is starting. Why must everything be so difficult? He is saying the words you have longed to hear for weeks, yet… Something is off.

“You can say that you don’t like me. It’s alright.” Perhaps it is dishonesty. Perhaps he is only saying it, so you don’t feel bad. Aemond is considerate like that, never wanting to upset your feelings.

Aemond glares, giving you a stern look, as if daring you to try to explain his own feelings to himself. You shrink slightly.

“No. I like you, truly. It’s just that….” He trails off, and you want to scream out in frustration. Your temper is starting to rise, too.

“What? If you are so attracted to me, you should find it easy to bed me.” You spit out, almost daring him to contradict you.

“Nothing is that simple.” Aemond says, rolling his eye. You feel the urge to shake him, but you don’t. You are a Princess now. A Princess would not shake her Prince husband, no matter how foolish he acts. You breathe in, then out. Your response comes out, tersely.

“Love is a simple thing. It’s us who insist on complicating everything.”

“It is not my love for you, what makes me hesitate. First times can be…” And at that, you almost laugh in relief. So, that is what makes him hesitate? Fear of hurting you?

“Painful? I know, but I trust you.” You grab his hands in yours and look up at him, trying to showcase your sincerity. Your eyes are wide and earnest. But Aemond pulls out of your grasp, frustrated.

“'Tis I, who doesn’t trust you.”

You recoil, immediately pulling back. Your mother had always said you were a kind girl if a bit self-centered. And it was showing. You had never thought yourself the source of his worries, or had you ever thought he could think you're capable of hurting him.

“Aemond…” It comes out in a broken little sob. You knew people said things in fits of anger they didn’t mean, but you could tell he meant this. He didn’t trust you with his body.

Aemond tangles his hands in his hair, messing it up.

“Not like that. Just… You come to me pure, but I’m not. I have laid with a woman before.” It only makes you more confused. You are trying not to make assumptions, but it is a strange thing to say. It’s expected, especially for a man of his station. You wouldn’t have dared demand purity from him, in the way men demanded it from their wives. It was natural, even. Your positions in life were different. No one, not even the Queen herself, chided a man for his lack of chastity.

“Alright. I don’t mind it.” You answer, tentatively. You really hope, this time, you get it right. But the silence that follows is defeating.

Aemond’s hands ball into fists by his side. He loosens them, before balling them again. He is trying to hide their trembling from you, you realize. A pit forms in your stomach, knowing that whatever he is about to tell you, it’s bad. Something so terrible it might be better to not even speak it aloud. You have seen this man get into fights with his nephews, spitting out the worst slurs. You have seen him defeated by Ser Criston, beaten up, bruised badly. You have seen him hurt by his father's lack of care, cast aside in favor of others. But never once, never once, shaking in the way he is now. It terrifies you.

You don’t dare touch him, or comfort him in any way, when he is trying to calm down so hard. His breath is shallow, posture hunched, as if trying to fight the instinct to flight.

“It was not a good experience. I… I fear it would be like that, between us, and taint our marriage.” Aemond says, very quietly. His eye looks watery, his mouth set into a grim line. As if about to cry. You can tell, that whatever happened, it was much worse than what he says.

“Oh.” It’s all you can say. It had not crossed your mind, that it wasn’t you what repelled him, but the act itself. You long to hug him, but can tell touch is not what he wants, right now. You remember then, all the times he evaded touches from others, so skillfully. The ducking of an arm when Aegon tries to hug him, turning it into play fighting and roughhousing. How he never initiates affection with the Queen or Haelena. How he has never touched you, apart from a pat on the arm or holding your hand. Or how his palms get so sweaty when he has to do it. How he has not kissed you since your wedding. Perhaps, even the fact that he is always dressed in clothes that cover him completely.

Never having thought about it before, his quirks start to make sense in a way you don’t want them to. It hurts, to think of him being hurt in such a way. It is not something you had thought could happen to a man, but it makes too much sense to ignore. Whatever cloud appears in your eyes, it’s too much for Aemond to handle.

“Oh.” He mocks you, chucking your chin. It’s a gesture meant to put your mind at ease, show you that this is not an unsavable obstacle. You are thankful to him for it, even if it comes at the cost of being the butt of the joke that’s not even funny, much less with the topic you are discussing. But you can pretend for him. You smile, softly.

“Do you wish to speak about it?”

“Perhaps some other day."

Dragon /ˈdra��(ə)n/

noun

a mythical monster resembling a giant reptile, sometimes shown as having wings. In European tradition, the dragon is typically fire-breathing and tends to symbolize chaos or evil, whereas in East Asia it is usually a beneficent symbol of fertility, associated with water and the heavens.

In Cyvasse, a dragon can remove elephants from the board.

Aemond pulls down the screen dividing the board. He gives you a smug little look, laying down on the bed only in his sleep shirt. You try hard not to stare, focusing instead on the pieces on the board.

Your catapults are gone, and only your elephants remain. He has captured your King with a Dragon. It’s an odd move. You either are not remembering right or he is cheating.

“That’s cheating! You said the dragon could only move…” You start to complain, frowning at him.

“Diagonally, which is right.” He answers very calmly, looking at you in expectation. You examine the board from all angles, noting that he is right, and he has not cheated. Unless playing with a greatly disadvantaged player is cheating because in that case, Aemond most definitely is.

You take a deep breath and lay down next to him, forgetting the board. Oh, you can feel his pride at having bested you, even without looking at him. And of course, he keeps shifting on the bed, jostling you, lest you forget what you have to do. It’s the customary price, after all. A way to encourage to actually pay attention to his instructions about how the game is played, but also a way for a young couple to start getting to know each other. Your cheeks heat up immediately, when you decide what you will say. You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly and mumble so low, it can barely be heard over the crackling fire that lights up the room.

“Fine. As a young girl, I used to steal my father’s dagger and make other children knights with it. I loved playing Queen.”

Aemond laughs, a deep, sincere laugh. His eye crinkles at the corner, a pair of tiny dimples making themselves known. You like how true laughter lights up his face, you decide. It’s cute, but not something that often happens.

“That must have been adorable, wife.” Aemond smiles at you, boyishly. He is about to tease you, you know it. Your heart melts just a little more. “I apologize for being but a lowly Prince.” You start to laugh, but the laughter dies in your throat with his next words. “Perhaps I can indulge you.”

You rush to correct the treasonous words, scared. Aemond is an ambitious man, you have known that from the start. Just as ambitious as he is dutiful, your husband. But you can’t help but wonder if in this case, ambition outweighs the duty he feels towards his family. You don’t know him enough to make a judgment yet. So very gently, with your pulse ringing loud in your ears, you speak.

“I like Aegon. No matter if he is a drunk fool, sometimes. And your father is pretty boring, but alright. And Princess Rhaenyra." You don't say anything positive about her, not when you had learned through this same technique she had demanded Aemond was punished after losing his eye. If you had a chance, you would strangle her. But only a little. Otherwise, it would be treason, and it would be setting the wrong example. Queen Alicent always told you it was best to lead with your actions, and not only your words.

Aemond smiles, pushing your shoulder lightly.

"Not like that.” He complains, but gives you a long look regardless. You know he has noticed your slip, referring to Rhaenyra as an afterthought and only after Aegon. He knows now, without you having told him, what your thoughts on succession are. He is perceptive like that. “I was thinking more along the lines of crowning you my Queen of Love and Beauty.”

“You never compete in tourneys, husband.”

“For you, I would. If you wished to be Queen, for you, I would.” And it feels like Aemond is promising something else, something more than just being the one to get a crown of pretty flowers. It scares you a little, to be the focus of such devotion. Such honeyed words, too, which you know are unusual for him. The urge to kiss him is strong, but his confession, a few days backs, still weighs heavily between you too. He has definitely noticed you are more careful with your touches now. Still playful, but giving ample time to pull away. Yet, you can’t leave him hanging either. Not when Aemond is trying so hard for you two to work.

“I would, too. You would look handsome, with a flower’s crown.” And thinking yourself so sly, you slide your hand underneath his, laughing. Aemond laughs too, and pulls you towards him, trying to get you to put your head on his chest. You do so eagerly, listening to his heartbeat. At first, it is rushed, and he remains stiff, despite being the one to initiate the embrace. But slowly, Aemond relaxes and starts carding a hand through your hair. You think it feels much like what heaven must feel like.

The motion lulls you to that state between sleep and consciousness, where your head feels fuzzy and full of cotton, and your movements are sluggish. It feels like a dream, the way the shadows dance on the wall, and how his heart pounds steadily under you. You wish you could sink into him, fuse the two of you, as the Maesters of old said soulmates were. Nestle close to his heart, curl around it with greedy little hands, protect him from the world. Your eyelids drop, despite your fight to stay awake. Aemond smiles down at you, amused, and runs his hand over the slope of your nose, tracing the contours of your face. You scrunch your face at him, about to scold him for disturbing you, when he speaks. At first, it doesn’t make sense to you. And then, you realize.

“I was thirteen. Aegon took me to a brothel. I…” It feels like being stabbed, over and over again, tiny sparks of pain in your chest. In your mind’s eye, you can see him. A slightly younger version of Daeron, perhaps with longer hair. A big, purple eye, the other side of his face freshly scarred. Tiny. Terrified. And that you know because you know his growth spurt didn’t hit until he was fifteen, courtesy of your cyvasse games. You also know he was painfully shy and quiet, the product of a childhood filled with mockery and neglect. That, too, he had shared, after a game you knew Aemond had lost deliberately, feeling you were losing more embarrassing stories than he was sharing. Still, you hadn’t minded.

It hurts to think of your awfully kind husband being taken against his will. You doubt, had you been him, you could have survived it. Being violated so… It aches so bad, tears start filling your eyes. But you do not speak, less you break the spell and Aemond clams back up.

“I… I didn't want you to think I was weak. You are one of the loveliest things I have had, in a long time.” He says, voice breaking slightly. You shift in his grip, and look him right in the eye.

“You are not weak.” You enunciate, clearly and slowly. And you hope your sincerity shines through your eyes because you do believe it. Unable to speak a word, silenced as he was by shame, you think you would have broken much earlier. That Aemond stands, whole, before you and speaks the words aloud after so much time, says leagues about his character.

“I was meant to come out of it a man. It went…wrong.” He tries explaining, but you shake your head.

“You were not in the wrong.” You make a mental note to try to strangle Aegon later. You had known he was a… Interesting character, to say it kindly. But this… This took the cake on reckless, thoughtless behavior. He was at least three years older than Aemond, yet he had not half the sense his brother posses. Perhaps, your husband is better suited to be king. After living three months with the Targaryens, you were starting to doubt their closeness to gods. You stomp down your personal grievances, knowing Aemond needs love, not rage.

“May I hug you?” You ask, softly. Aemond laughs, a little watery, and pulls you on top of him. He hides his face in your hair, sobbing softly. You fantasize of killing half the whores of Flea Bottom, Aegon, Viserys and perhaps Alicent, too. You fall asleep like that, limbs entangled with each other and forgoing your ritual of messing up the room and your appearances. Despite it, the next morning, the maids who find you are more convinced than ever before of your closeness.

Elephant /ˈɛlɪf(ə)nt/

noun

a very large plant-eating mammal with a prehensile trunk, long curved ivory tusks, and large ears, native to Africa and southern Asia. It is the largest living land animal.

In Cyvasse, each player has multiple elephants.

It takes you a few sleepless nights to try to find a solution to your problem. Despite being praised often for how learned and bright you were, you couldn’t find an answer to your questions. You see, you have always been a planner. You tackled your concerns by doing research about them and then coming up with an action plan. But there was no research to be done here. You had to work with the facts.

You knew Aemond was not willing to confess to his mother. Nor were you about to betray his trust. But she would keep pressuring, for you to fall pregnant. You could buy time, faking an illness or perhaps even a pregnancy followed with a miscarriage. Yet, you had been chosen not only as Aemond’s companion, but to bring the next generation of Targaryens to the world. And both of you wanted children. He was too proud for letting you get pregnant and pass the baby as his own. Not with the situation with his nephews.

So. You were back to square one. You had to find a way for both of you to have children, and not traumatize Aemond about it. And get Alicent off your back. Research. You could do research about how a lady ended up with a child.

You poured long hours over medicine treaties and concluded this: It was not his member that had to go inside you, but his seed. It would also be useful if you broke your maidenhead in some way, less you ended up trying to give birth still a virgin. So, in theory, Aemond didn’t need to enter you. Just collect his seed, and perhaps you could pour it inside you with a jar or something. Still, you put that thought on the back burner, as a plan b. Oftentimes, the best solution was not the most complex one, and so, you had to at least try to perform intimacy with you. But you didn’t want him to suffer, and so, you decided to approach one of your maids about it.

“Dyana.” You said, as the girls were unlacing your gown and unpinning your hair for bed. “Stay.”

It was low, what you were about to do. But you knew of none else who had gone through something similar. Dyana had been appointed as your maid after having the unwelcome attentions of Aegon on her. There was nothing that could be done, not when the King was so ill, Alicent had told you. She wouldn’t subject him to having to pass judgment on his own son, not in his state. And besides, there had been no harm done, with the girl not falling pregnant. At the time, you hadn’t questioned it. Now, it made you sick to think your brother-in-law, who was always supportive of you in front of his mother, could have hurt her in such a way.

Dyana stayed behind, brushing your hair in front of the vanity. The other maids scurried out in a flock of dresses and chatter. You met her eyes through the mirror, in low candlelight. She was the Targaryen kind of pretty, with hair so blonde it almost looked like theirs. Perhaps that had attracted Aegon.

“I understand you were forcefully subjected to Prince Aegon’s… Advances.” You said, once you were alone. Dyana was very tense, obviously reminding the last time she had been alone with a member of the royal family. You decided to spare her the anxiety over what you wanted, if any, to make this shameful act you were committing a bit less traumatizing. “I have questions about it, from woman to woman.”

The brush clattered to the floor. Dyana’s eyes turned from anxious to terrified. She was frozen, unable to bend down and pick it up. You turned in your stool, to reassure her.

“I'm not going to punish you. I don’t want to know about the act, or reprimand you or blame you.”

Dyana bent down to pick up the brush. Her shoulders remained tense.

“I only want to ask a question. And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to… But if you do, I will reward you handsomely.” You tried putting her at ease, using a soft voice. Much like with Aemond, you stuck to not sudden moves and no touching. To show her that you were serious, you pulled a handful of gold dragons, letting them clatter on your vanity’s table, next to the bottles of expensive lotions and perfumes Aemond had bought you. “But my husband can never know. No one can ever know.”

Dyana raised her head at the sound. She looked at the gold, and stood, anxiously wringing her hands together.

“Milady… That’s a lot of gold for a question.” Dayna’s eyes were fixed on the ground.

“It’s an important question. It requires utmost secrecy.” You answered, handing her half. “For keeping this conversation private, even if you would rather not answer me.”

Dyana took the gold, quickly hiding it inside her pocket. She seemed to fear you were playing a joke on her and would take the gold away at any time. You didn’t blame her, with how badly she had been treated so far. Keeping her waiting would be even more cruel than what you had already done, and so, you asked.

“How do you trust again, after it?” It was a clumsily worded questions, asked in a rush and in a single breath. It came out more like “Howdoyoutrustagain, after… It.” Not the most dignified wording, either. You were supposed to be eloquent, smart. Yet, you were floundering as an overzealous child.

“I…” She had clearly understood, by the look on her face, but didn’t know what to say. How to approach it. Dayna stepped closer, scrutinizing your face. Searching. But for what?

“How can you lay with a man again?” You repeated, trying to sound a bit more self-assured and narrowing down your line of questioning. You knew she was currently in a relationship with a stable boy. He always picked her up on the nights you and Aemond were supposed to bed each other.

Dayna looked at you, expression doing a full one eighty. Her eyes stopped being frightened and turned sad. One of her hands went again to brush your hair, almost in comfort.

“It is not the same man. And. Um. Never in the same way, my lady. He asks. All the time. And not like…” She trailed off, concerned. You didn’t notice, too busy committing her advice to memory. “My lady, you should really speak to the Queen….”

At those words, your head jerked up. Why did she bring up Alicent? Did she really think you could ask her about intimate relationships? Unless… She thought Aemond was… Oh, by the Seven, that was even worse.

“Aemond is not mistreating me. But my cousin’s husband is. I just don’t know what to tell her, having been so lucky.” You lied, trying to sound as convincing as you could. But you knew she wasn’t believing a word out of your mouth.

“Can they mend things?” Dyana asked, and it was obvious she didn’t buy that you were asking for a friend.

“From what I gather.” You answered, tersely. Of that, you were certain. Aemond liked you enough to at least try. You would consult him first, making sure he was not uncomfortable with the idea, but you knew he felt the grains of sand on both your clocks draining, as you did. Time was something you didn’t have. But Dyana didn’t know any of that. She was asking you, even if covertly, if you thought your husband could not be a brute. It showed, in the way her eyes filled with pity.

“Tell her to ask him to be soft. And… Not that, right away.” Dyana blushed, lowering her eyes in embarrassment. You gave her a puzzled glance, confused. If not intimacy, right away, what did she mean? Kissing? “Go slow, do something else….”

“Like?” You tilted your head to the side, hoping for a clarification.

“Mouth. Fingers.” The girl looked like she was about to hide under the table from embarrassment. And truly, it was a bit strange. An unmarried maid teaching a lady about intimacy.

“Oh.” You frowned. Dayna squeezed your shoulder, with very soft hands. “Thank you.”

King /kɪŋ/

noun

the male ruler of an independent state, especially one who inherits the position by right of birth.

In Cyvasse, the goal is to kill the King.

Your research had led you to A Caution For Young Girls. A popular novel between the common folk and that had costed you great effort to acquire. The plan had included a horse, a chicken, Aegon, and a copy of the Seven Pointed Star you had had to defile. You prayed that the Seven forgave you, both for reading such dirty tales and for destroying a copy of their sacred book to hide the book you were really reading. That day, even Queen Alicent had mistaken your newfound devotion for the Seven for a lady praying for a child and had pointed to you as an example for Aegon. In truth, you had been on your knees before the effigy of the Mother begging for forgiveness, and not a child.

It had been for a better cause, you told yourself. If truly were the gods who gave the Targaryens their right to rule, it meant they were favored among the rest of the men. Surely, finding a way to procure a child to one of the most pious, gentle Princes the realm had to offer justified your actions. Surely, Aemond’s devotion made up for your sins, or at least, the seven prayers you had recited under each of their effigies did. Surely, right?

Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing something bad. Literature is meant to open the mind. That’s why yours and Aemond’s studies had been encouraged from a young age. And the novel had certainly opened your mind to new ways of being intimate. You had no clue there were so many ways one could use their mouth, fingers, and openings. And if you had felt aroused by reading it… Literature was meant to be enjoyed, too.

So, the next time you and Aemond were alone, you said there was something you needed to talk to him about. You brought out your notes, and took the Cyvasse board away from the table, placing your research there instead. Aemond’s eyebrows raised at seeing you pull out such an amount of parchment, yet he said nothing.

“You want to be a father. I want to be a mother. We are married. And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I have researched for two possible ways of achieving it. Watch…” You pulled out a diagram, crudely drawn. You grabbed a stick, much like the one your Septa used to teach you when you were a child, and were about to start explaining, when Aemond interrupted.

“Is that supposed to be…” Aemond had the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “A… Um… Is that…?”

“Yes, now shut up. I’m trying to explain my plan.” You answered, not even the slightest bit ashamed. Couldn’t he see you were explaining your research? “You see, we don’t actually need to have any kind of sexual contact for me to fall pregnant. We just need to insert your seed…” It was said in a very clinical manner, but Aemond interrupted, again.

“Wife, I know how conception works.” Now he was fully blushing, and you frowned. It was not your intention to make him uncomfortable, so you decided to go straight to the point.

“Alright, so we will skip that part. Fine. We have two options. You either pleasure yourself and spill in a jar, or we build up to intimacy. I researched the way to make that the least traumatizing for you as possible, too.”

Aemond looked at you, for one long second. The silence stretched, and you worried this was going to end up with losing him in the most painful way you could imagine. Your blooming relationship, dead by your tactless hand. Aemond stared some more, his eye narrowed. Then, he burst out laughing. You felt so embarrassed you hoped the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

The both of you stayed like that. Aemond laughing so hard tears sprang from his eyes, and you, diagram still in hand, with what Aemond would later swear was the cutest pout he had ever seen.

“This has to be both the sweetest and strangest thing someone has ever done for me.” He finally said, drying his tears.

“You are not mad? Or hurt?” You asked, eyeing him a bit suspiciously, but with a smile of your own.

“Come here.” Aemond widened his stance, and you stepped closer, giving in to his unspoken request for you to stand between his parted legs. With a touch so light, it might not even be there, Aemond tilted your head down and kissed you. You felt as if the world stopped, for a minute. The kiss was clumsy, with him sitting and you standing but you could swear it was the kind of kiss the poets wrote about. You let him lead you, reminding Dyana’s advice, and you could feel the way he smiled against your mouth for it.

“I made my decision.” Aemond said, as you pulled away to take some well-needed breaths of air. Your mind felt like mush, with how dizzying the kiss had been. You had not a single clue what he was talking about.

“Huh?”

“We will try to have the children the normal way. I can learn to trust you enough for it.” And it felt like your heart was singing, with how happy you were. You smiled brightly at him. It was an honor that he was willing to trust you that much, that he was willing to try. You knew, were you him, you would have hesitated more. Aemond was a brave man, you had to give it to him.

You wanted to kiss him silly. But you had promised yourself to keep things at his pace, were he to choose this path. And so, you asked.

“Hug?”

Aemond laughed, and pulled you closer, burying his face on your chest. You hugged back, holding him.

“So, what did your research say? About building up intimacy?” Aemond shifted, looking up at you, purple eye shining with mirth. You spluttered, slapping his shoulder. He laughed again. “You know, in all seriousness… The Seven have given me a strange woman. But I wouldn’t change you for anything.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

Detailed warning: Aemond confesses to the reader that the reason they haven’t had sex yet is not a lack of desire but a bit of fear, and describes what happened to him when he was thirteen. The reader does her research and presents it to him, crudely, but he is touched by her gesture.

As a fellow SA survivor, I hope I have managed to portray the struggle to trust a partner again in a manner that is both tasteful and fluffy, with an adequate dose of humor and awkwardness. Writing Honesty raised a few thoughts on the matter of consent in Westeros. I never got to finish GOT because of the same issue. My heart ached for Aemond during the brothel scene, and I wondered about it a lot. I have yet to see it portrayed in any fanfiction. I apologize in advance if it made anyone uncomfortable.

[wis-art]

Yeah guys, i stole this guy's name and my whjole online presence is posting about his wrongs and accusing him of being friends with rapist!!!!!!!

the source: it's from a callout on a popular trans woman by her EX where they both were stoned out of our mind and i didn't fucking talk about any of this out of respect for both of them, but if you wanna fucking go there. The whole shit that they are bringing up is a callout campaign against a trans woman who has been basically threatened into harassing me and salem for months because the person who wolfertinger blog is pals with had all the vulnerable moments she ever said when they were dating, and basically held it against her entire time, and when they broke up the tgirl came to my fuckin dms really stressed out talking to me about it, hysterical and angry because nobody else was willing to talk to her, because when they broke up with wolfertinger's pals they were immediately accused of being an evil rapist and had a massive fucking blackmailing campaign and emotional abuse from her ex. Now i don't really know the details of what happened that night, as nobody really does because according to the tgirl's testimony she and my little stalker were both stoned out of their fucking mind, like she does not remember anything so i dont know what the fuck really happened. Anyways, fast forward the next month, helping that girl not to kill herself and to stay alive despite the abuse and threats and social murder that she faced, she had multiple suicide attempts, which these ghouls call "suibaiting" and it was VERY traumatizing for everybody involved. She did nothing more than say sorry over and over and over and when this didnt work she was so distressed with the idea of being a rapist that she wanted to take her own life MULTIPLE times, so yeah she was NOT exaggerating. When things cooled down a little bit, I asked the person accusing the tgirl of rape what happened, since the tgirl did not remember anything, because of the substance they both took, she told me her side and i agreed, that i can see why you think this is not okay and said "i wish she didnt do this to you but she did and i'm sorry" and essentially after this the tgirl got told we support her accuser's side or whatever and went off on me and left me alone, which is fine, she can be upset at me for this conversation, after everything she has been through. We have not talked since, but to say we are friends with a rapist is just fucking insane and dishonest, as usual and fact of the matter is, that the accusing person has been doing this kind of callout smear campaign to all of their exes which includes salem, telling everybody how abusive and how all their (almost entirely) trans partners were rapists and sexual predators, stirring shit up online. I don't know what to think, i wasn't there in the room, the testimonies are not clear, i don't understand either and i have been harassed by both parties for like 8 months at that point, so i wasn't entirely happy about all of this. And we weren't really friends prior. You make up your own conclusions, but i have no fucking idea. fact of the matter is, this suicidal trans girl has came into my life super suddenly, she has spent many nights crying to me and asking me to comfort her, and i wasn't aware of anything initially other than "oh my god another fucking callout on a trans woman by their TME ex" So i just fucking helped her, i was very traumatized by the whole situation and i would never really want to talk about any of this because the situation is traumatic and scary and real, and people were hurt and suffering. The trans girl has been getting messages like "kill yourself dumb tranny retard rapist" from her ex's cousin or nephew or something, she has been harassed in a very transmisogynist way, and i do hold a grudge over that, like even if the allegations are true, it doesn't make it any less transphobic to say that to someone. Either way, the whole situation was something i wanted to move away from and just move past because i do not want to think about any of it any more than i should, and these people are using just to fucking harass me for helping their victim and standing up for them.

Also the conversation i had with the tgirl's ex about what happened where i tried to be as respectful as it gets and tell them it's okay, you don't have to talk about it, i understand, they fuckin gave me everything and later used it in a callout to tell me how wrong and evil i am for doing this, and that just strikes me as a little odd. Like are you upset i asked about what happened from the alleged victim??? And you're calling me evil and spin out of context because i wrote a lot in those messages about how i feel and asking you to clarify? It's just very dishonest.

Now let's say he is the real stalker here, i am way smarter than all of you. Like shut up, own up to it instead of sending yourself anonymous messages to play it off as you not saying it. Threatening suicide as a fucking mentally ill 19 year old we are still on the fucking 4 year old tweets!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is fucking craazyy. You guys are doing nothing but sending anonymous messages to my mutuals and followers and call us followers despite you running a blog with a stolen name, so people get to see it first when they type in salem's blog name and doing nothing but harassing us and trying to spin these traumatic events that happened to everybody involved public. Like fuck off! Always looking what im saying having notifications on my post, and when i respond and peep what kind of crazy dogshit you guys served up tonight i am the real stalker, i am the real obsessed person, this isn't DARVO and gaslighting or anything... right!? Fuck off.

[starberry-cupcake]

I'm trying the post-it method and it's really messy but, if it helps, I'll keep it up, because I feel like live-reading doesn't help me out with processing this as much as going back on notes does...god, I sound like palmolive...

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag for all the recaps I've done

CHAPTER 8 (third house skull, which, I guess, but tangentially)

sriracha girlie from school is still on the case and asks nona to up her game in the surveillance task and pretend she's on a radio call

she doesn't elaborate but I doubt it'd help nona understand much anyway if she does

she's just happy to help

nona has to put little boots in the six-legged dog's feet before going out into the scorching heat, though

it's the summer here, so I feel you, noodle

(bonus info: our new puppy apparently has been aptly named because she has 0 fear and is trying to jump into the pool head first like a maniac)

so nona, because she has no preservation skills either, just like our puppy, thinks is a good idea to pretend like she's talking to coronabeer

she still calls her "crown", but it doesn't make me feel any more ok with her pretend calling coronabeer of all people

wasn't she with BOE and whatnot? what if the enemy is listening?

she invites her to her birthday party on the beach

and I might be too cautious but I know better than to share so much information in the wild outdoors where someone could listen

like 'I'm gonna be in this location at this day, please come steal from me or whatever'

maybe it's just my latine self talking, but be careful out there

how do they trust this girl to not be a hazard on her own?

she's like 8 years old

oh, great, I sound like mercygirl now

nona starts drowsing off and a bible chapter comes in, which people have told me is her sleeping

gonna remind everyone I didn't find that out on my own

that's not a victory for me

JOHN 15:23

"Whoever hates me hates my Father as well" is the bible verse in this one

well, then

I haven't read the bible this much since I was in my second school (out of 4)

so here we are again with dr. reverend emperor john buttface's monologue

there's a distraction tactic possibility to get him killed, if we ever need one

he mentions the eye color change as things get weird with their experiments

and says cassiopeia?? potentially? or cyrus? told him he looked like edward cullen "from that old movie twilight"

like I'm not gonna clock dr. reverend emperor john having read twilight with his own two changing eyes

so dr reverend emperor john the menace and his terrible lyctors start doing awful things to the corpses that aren't rotting

allegedly due to dr reverend emperor john "loving them"

whatever that means

and the corpses remain undamaged

what I'd like to point out here is that these people are deranged and god awful even when they hadn't been 25 million years old

this is them brand new from the package and they're all either terrible or complicit in being terrible

I think cassiopeia is the only one visibly suffering but still, man

these people were always like this, this isn't some "we've been out in space so long we've lost touch with our humanity"

happy out of touch thursday, this is you, this has always been you

dr reverend emperor john starts talking about touching the corpses' hands and feeling them even when they aren't there with him

mercygirl is doubting his sanity

yet still they all followed him to hell, so who's crazier here

they picked two corpses, a guy and a gal, to make more specific experiments on, and he named them ulysses and titania

titania after the shakespeare character

ulysses not after the greek hero

and by controlling their hands from across the room I guess they discover necromancy

he's still talking to harrow through all this

CHAPTER 9 (sixth house skull, but at what cost?????)

sriracha girle tells nona that, after her imaginary phone call with coronabeer, the ceaseless watcher left the building

literally

nobody knows what this means but sriracha girlie is still on the case

then they start hearing shots outside and everyone has their safety precautions but they're all bored about it instead of afraid

wish this was just a fiction thing and not the current world

so everyone gets picked up except for sriracha girle, as ush

camilla comes to pick up nona from school and gets pastries (aka facturas, where I'm from)

camilla is doing the lord's work here

she got them by selling out pyrrha's cigarettes, apparently, which I find a great exchange but I don't smoke, so I'm obviously team facturas

then, we get a nona flashback from a month prior, about the Event which prevents them from going swimming anymore

they used to go to the sea at dusk to have some private time with the water

and by them I mean nona went swimming, because the sea is filled with deadly jellyfish, so they'd kill a regular person, but not nona

she can swim with the jellyfish, which sounds beautiful, actually

the whole swimming description is so relaxing and beautiful and I am hating this heat but I'm grateful for the swimming opportunity it provides

swimming is great

swimming with jellyfish without dying must be great

relaxing moment for 3.5 seconds for everyone

of course things can't be relaxing for too long, this is tlt we're talking about

nona sees some people surrounding camilla and guesses it must be the police

which, in every universe, is a Problem

tons of police men surrounding one woman, yeah, doesn't look great

but I was fine because this is camilla fucking hect we're talking about

no cops at pride, just camilla and knives

nona can't hear their conversation but, at one point, she can hear camilla say "speak House"

which ??????????????????????'

doesn't sound good AT ALL

nona sees one of them pointing a gun and warns camilla, which earns nona a shot through the shoulder

so then, when nona resurfaces, she finds everyone lying motionless and camilla squatting on the sand

and I was like "of course my baby did that"

but then nona looks at her and she's got one camilla eye and one palmolive eye

and is talking like camolive is some sort of dragon ball fusion

they ask nona not to freak out

I'm freaking out

camolive's timer starts going like crazy and they ask nona to drive them home

camilla comes back to herself at this point BUT

she's bleeding everywhere

like, blood coming out of her skin

it's everywhere

nona asks her to get palmolive but camilla says they can't

so nona has to drive them home in the middle of the night with the blood and the salty water and the potential police following

nona thankfully can manage and pyrrha says camilla is in thanergy shock

she says they can never do that again and that if palmolive wasn't sharing a body with her, she'd be kicking his ass

AND I WOULD BE TOO

PALMOLIVE, I SAID IT LAST RECAP, MAN

YOU HAD ONE JOB

KEEPING CAMILLA SAFE

WHAT ARE YOU DOING??????

camilla asks them to not tell palmolive she was "weak"

pyrrha drinks in camilla's honor while she's recuperating and nona asks her why she said goodbye to her if she's gonna be fine

to which pyrrha asks how does she know she was saying goodbye

basically, camilla is not dying but she's also not fine

which I got from the very heavy bleeding, thank you very much doctor pyrrha

if something happens to camilla I swear to whatever god that isn't the monologuing prick in the sleeping chapters I'm gonna go feral

PALMOLIVE I'M GOING TO CHASE YOU DOWN

AND THAT'S IT FOR THIS RECAP!!! I think the post its system is better for me?? I'll figure it out as I go. See you on the next one!!!

[ntshastark]

What an absolutely hilarious article.

It begins with "No, it’s not set in modern-day America. Perhaps that’s the point: If we’re not very careful, it could be." and ends with "Maybe, when all is said and done, this is a movie for modern-day America.". It literally frames 'I'm Still Here' as some sort of cautionary tale for the USA under Trump 2.0.

And at no point whatsoever it deems necessary to mention why Brazil was under a military dictatorship in the first place.

I mean, who do we know that, during this thing called the Cold War, went around Latin America rubbing their imperialist little hands all over the place and helped topple tons of legitimate left-leaning governments in favour of militaristic dictators? You think this has nothing to do with you? That this is a story you're viewing fully from the outside?

I could do a whole rant about this, but I genuinely couldn't put it better than bluesky user guslanzetta already did 2 days ago, while quoting a video from AOC:

[Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez: "I don’t care what Elon Musk is doing behind the presidential seal, but in this country we hate Nazis. Kind of like a foundational defining thing. Two of the foundational things about American history is that we beat the confederates and we beat the Nazis."]

The country that hates nazis hired a bunch of nazis to build rockets in the 40s. America is defined by hating communists way more than hating nazis. If AOC wants to be the voice of change she must admit how fucked up America is and how it needs to be better. Don't go "actual MAGA". There's nothing beautiful to return to, there's a better tomorrow to be built and it has to be a tomorrow, time moves forward and we must as well. We didn't lose our way, we realized there's another path. We want to go where we haven't been.

(emphasis my own)

‘I’m Still Here’: A stark history and warm memoir of Brazil’s darkest days

Walter Salles’s “I’m Still Here” is an epic within an epic: a teeming family drama contained within the melodrama of a country going insane.

No, it’s not set in modern-day America. Perhaps that’s the point: If we’re not very careful, it could be.

Brazil in 1970 existed in a state of constant tension, with a military dictatorship installed in a 1964 coup that was overseeing a resurgent economy and the increasingly brutal repression of anyone it saw as stepping out of line. Among the latter was Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello), a civil engineer and congressman from São Paulo who fled the country when his position was nullified by the dictatorship, but who returned within the year because he couldn’t keep away from his wife and kids.

You can hardly blame him. If you were lucky growing up, you knew one of those big, warm, rambunctious families whose dinner table was always open to strays and whose conversations on art, politics, culture and morality expanded one’s brain and the possibilities of life. (If you were luckier still, it was your family.) The Paivas were one of those special clans, and director Salles was, in his youth, one of the strays at their table, making “I’m Still Here” as much personal memoir as national history.

In Mello’s playing, Rubens is affable, smart and maybe too unconcerned for his personal safety. Or maybe he just doesn’t have the time, since he’s active in labor causes, holds meetings at home, publishes a left-wing newspaper and insists on being a present, loving father to his five children. In this, his wife Eunice (Fernanda Torres) is his partner and equal.

And then, one day in January 1971, Rubens is taken away for questioning, and “I’m Still Here” depicts the harrowing disorientation of a home invaded by men with guns. Eunice was detained and interrogated for a brief period, as was their adolescent daughter Eliana (Luiza Kosovski), and the glimpses Salles gives of the junta’s tactics — blood on the floor, screams down the hall — chill them and us to the marrow.

At this point, Eunice comes to the fore as the real hero of “I’m Still Here,” embarking on a relentless course of action to discover her husband’s whereabouts while holding her family together with elegance and grit. That path would eventually take her to a law degree and a national role as an activist pushing for the government’s recognition of those who were “disappeared” during the dictatorship, which ended in 1985. (The script by Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega is based on a 2015 memoir by Eunice and Rubens’s only son, Marcelo, a successful Brazilian playwright and screenwriter.)

Continue reading.

[martyryo]

Okay

I don't do..anons. so yes, just gonna ask this as me‼️ Hello‼️‼️

When

Right okay, I saw your art like the yellow red one right and I saw you talking about your tulpa in that and it took me a second cause at first I thought you were doing a Collab with someone and I was looking for a tagged account or something 😭😭 and then I was like hang on it's not been tagged so it can't be that. And then I saw the hashtag about the tulpa thing and my brain was like, I've heard that term before. And I had, but it was cause of Supernatural. Think the episode was Hell House, either way in that course some kids draw a sigil and don't know what they're doing, spread a rumour and enough people see the sigil and believe the made up story for it to become real. I'm gonna hazard a guess that this isn't what's happening here. Cause 1. No axe murderers are present and 2...idk. suppose it wasn't on accident lol

But basically, what I'm asking is, what's gone on? Like please could you define what a tulpa is cause I'm a tad bit confuseled. I've got a grasp. A jist if you will. But yeh, that, and how it works for you and how long all this has been about for because yeh, the original post confused me a lot and I had no context to understand what was going on lol

Hiii!!!!!

Ok so, never watched supernatural cause I lack media culture, but I looked at the fandom wiki and I assure you it's NOTHING like that 😭

Ik the practice of creating a tulpa comes from buddhism and is related to religion and stuff, but like I found out about it through an online friend back in 2017ish cause they developed one. Needles to say, in these cases we're talking about the western interpretation of the phenomenon that is mainly psychological and not spiritual.

With a tulpa you bascially create a sentient being on a subconscious level that shares the body with you. Please note that this is not in any way related to conditions such as DID, as you do not have the splitting of a subconscious, you actually add more of them into a body. And an important aspect that separates tulpae from alters is that with a tulpa you're fully aware and consensual with having a second person inside the body, you will never accidentally develop a tulpa out of the blue.

To make an example also, imagine there's a wheel with a hamster inside, they represent respectively the body and the subconscious mind that inhabits it. Now imagine there are more hamsters but they're in the same wheel. That's a body with more subconsciouses (I might be butchering this word I'm so sorry).

Needless to say, doing this requires a long trail of meditation, as one needs to focus on everything they perceive out of a person normally (the way they look, talk, move, smell. you get it, everything) and obviously their personality. These things do change with time once the tulpa settles as a stable part of the host's (the one who creates them) life, but at least sketching down the idea of the person that you're creating helps in the overall process.

Ok so. The most important part. A tulpa is NOT evil, and cannot be evil. That's something I found out in the guides I followed at the start of my journey with my first tulpa. They have no reason to turn over their creator cause they are meant to be companions. I'm not super informed on the theory thing now cause I got into it two years ago and since then we've just been living, but there articles online who talk about this so feiughirgh

Now, in my experience Jack came to be part of my life around two years ago, on july 9th. I was going through a weird depressive period where I would not talk to anybody and felt like shit over nothing. During that time I also used to watch fight club a lot, like three times a week, and grew obsessively attached to the characters to the point all I thought about was fc (this feels so weird to remember omg). Anyways, remembered about my friend with the tulpa, and decided to do the same thing. So I got informed on the procedure and gradually managed to develop Jack over time :3

On the 27th of Trevor also started developing, in his case it was Jack that went throughout the major part of the creation process cause I was busy with school, but yeah since then it's been the three of us living life yk.

Also, I obviously got better since that summer, them being with me helped me out a lot and obviously I didn't create them with the intent of getting. Free experimental therapy or some shit. They are part of me and I love them ver very much, knowing that they're always with me brings a sense of sheer comfort in my life. I just love my bros man. Then again, I suck at communication so there are days when we talk less. nonetheless we still interact via concepts or through the headspace (mental landscape where they pretty much live when not fronting).

Oh, also lately we've been aware of the fact that Jack is kinda always fronting (fronting is having control of the body btw kewnkfkgb) during the day when we are in silence at a school or on the bus, while I am the one that keeps the conversations with people (ironic ik). Trevor instead has no interest in the outside world, he just stays in the headspace and works as a mechanic apparently (he doesn't tell me where his workplace is also??? like for no reason at all also, I can't find that fucking place no matter how much I roam around).

Ough ok I know I sound a bit insane saying those things, but that's how it is 💨

With tulpamacy there are so many aspects one can discuss, but again, there are guides online where everything you need to know is explained, and they are explained better than whatever ramble I'm putting down here. I'm not an expert of the field, I just happen to be living it yk.

Sorry for the long and I guess confusing post, there is much more stuff I could tell you about but like. I think this manages to get the overall idea of how we work out 😸

[rapha-reads]

Anne Rice, IWTV, Part 3, Armand to Louis:

"'It is through you that I can save myself from the despair which I've described to you as our death. It is through you that I must make my link with this nineteenth century and come to understand it in a way that will revitalize me, which I so desperately need. [...] No. I must make contact with the age. [...] And I can do this through you . . . not to learn things from you which I can see in a moment in an art gallery or read in an hour in the thickest books . . . you are the spirit, you are the heart.'

'No, no.' I threw up my hands. I was on the point of a bitter, hysterical laughter. 'Don't you see? I'm not the spirit of any age. I'm at odds with everything and always have been! I have never belonged anywhere with anyone at any time!' It was too painful, too perfectly true.

But his face only brightened with an irresistible smile. He seemed on the verge of laughing at me, and then his shoulders began to move with this laughter. 'But Louis,' he said softly. 'This is the very spirit of your age. Don't you see that? Everyone else feels as you feel. Your fall from grace and faith has been the fall of a century.'"

Alfred de Musset, Confession d'un enfant du siècle, chapitre 2 :

"Trois éléments partageaient donc la vie qui s’offrait alors aux jeunes gens : derrière eux un passé à jamais détruit*, s’agitant encore sur ses ruines, avec tous les fossiles des siècles de l’absolutisme ; devant eux l’aurore d’un immense horizon, les premières clartés de l’avenir** ; et entre ces deux mondes… quelque chose de semblable à l’Océan qui sépare le vieux continent de la jeune Amérique, je ne sais quoi de vague et de flottant, une mer houleuse et pleine de naufrages, traversée de temps en temps par quelque blanche voile lointaine ou par quelque navire soufflant une lourde vapeur ; le siècle présent, en un mot, qui sépare le passé de l’avenir, qui n’est ni l’un ni l’autre et qui ressemble à tous deux à la fois, et où l’on ne sait, à chaque pas qu’on fait, si l’on marche sur une semence ou sur un débris***.

[...] Il leur restait donc le présent, l’esprit du siècle, ange du crépuscule, qui n’est ni la nuit ni le jour ; ils le trouvèrent assis sur un sac de chaux plein d’ossements, serré dans le manteau des égoïstes, et grelottant d’un froid terrible. L’angoisse de la mort leur entra dans l’âme à la vue de ce spectre moitié momie et moitié fœtus**** [...]

Toute la maladie du siècle présent vient de deux causes ; le peuple qui a passé par 93 et par 1814 porte au cœur deux blessures. Tout ce qui était n’est plus, tout ce qui sera n’est pas encore. Ne cherchez pas ailleurs le secret de nos maux*****."

............

Anne Rice definitely read Musset. And Musset would have ADORED Armand and loathed Louis - or maybe the contrary. And depending on when exactly during the 19th century Armand and Louis met, Armand might have already read Musset, and Louis would read him at the end of the century - Confession was published in 1836.

Translations of the passages in bold (translation by me and it's 4am for me right now, so don't expect a perfect work):

*"behind them a past forever destroyed"

**"in front of them, the dawn of an immense horizon, the first lights of the future"

***"the present century, in a word, what separates the past from the future, which is neither one nor the other and which resembles both at the same time, and where one does not know, with each step one takes, if one steps on a seed or rubble"

****"The anguish of death entered their souls at the sight of this specter, half mummy and half fetus."

*****"All that was is no more, all that will be is not yet. Do not look elsewhere for the secret of our ills."

There's a whole Comparative Literature essay that could be written, mirroring Confession with Interview... I will definitely come back to that idea later. Probably. At some point.

[heatwa-ves]

dog symbolism save me dog symbolism

[hanibalistic]

post fic talk.

first off, i am very happy someone realized chan plays an annoying character. i feel like i always try to make a character unlikeable only to fail, so it's nice to hear that i wrote a character who is actually annoying for once.

anyway, onto the story;

some pointers:

chan is the reader's uncle who escaped the mental institution. when he made the contract with the immortal curse, it effectively branded him as inhuman and therefore, every humane record of him was scratched off all paper and digital documents.

the only thing the curse's side effect cannot access is human memory, but there aren't many people left to remember him, so he was able to successfully infiltrate into the destory the sound monster project first started by jisung, the character with a tech archetype, who did it for his sister who went mute after her voice was stolen.

it hit extra hard for him because his sister was a singer, and basically her dream and career was shattered, and the depression forced her into hospitalization. he's just someone who wants his sister back.

hyunjin was the one who suggested learning sign language for reader.

chan doesn't care about killing the sound monster outside of the fact that it can also kill reader, which would then force the curse back onto him.

so, his point to lure reader to agree with killing the sound monster is that killing it will help kill the ruination curse. as of now, without a voice, the only way for the reader to dictate what the ruination curse should kill is to touch the thing. hence, they are seen stabbing their sword through the monster. if

they want to kill the ruination curse, obviously they can suicide. but without a voice, they will also have to touch their heart to do it. if they touch their arm, they'll just destory their own arm. both methods are suicide, but if they have a voice, they can dictate what they want to destory.

now, obviously, there is no saying that destroying the ruination curse wouldn't take sacrificing the host, but nobody but chan in the story took that into consideration.

changbin had a thing with reader's mother back in college. he was in love with her and never moved on, hence he was willing to help out when she fled to him. and he would have raised reader if chan wasn't in the picture. he left reader at the police station because he didn't want to be killed by their crazy uncle.

at the end, chan used the reader focusing on killing the sound monster as a distraction to kill them at the same time. so that deals with the sound monster, and also has the curse return to him as reader will be dead. but changbin blocks the knife and dies by it, so he did end up getting killed by the crazy uncle trying to protect them anyway, but at least this time he didn't run away.

THE SOUND MONSTER | STRAY KIDS.

genre | magic au, action au

synopsis | your client shows up in the middle of your bounty mission with answers you've been searching for and without the million dollars he promised you.   

word count | 10.5k+

warning | mention of violence, killing, blood, injuries / reader wears a skirt (necessary due to character)

note | lousy writing at the end because i got bored

If you had one million dollars each time you were asked to kill a homeostatic curse within a specific area in a forest that covered most of the city limit, you would have one million and fifty thousand dollars.

The first client who contracted you to kill a curse in this area paid you only fifty thousand dollars. Your current, suspiciously generous client offered you one million.

This should be the area. You thought as you scanned your surroundings through squinted eyes, then back to your phone, where a screenshot of a location was shown. 

The picture was taken from a fan website, one of the first things you stumbled into during your research into the Warp Curse. 

Since there has never been a sighting of what artifact the curse resided in, all you've got to begin looking for it was a bunch of historical texts and posts written by curse fanatics loitering in online forums. 

So far, you knew two things about the Warp Curse: (a) it has been killing random hikers that step foot inside the forest, and (b) it was speculated, using the locations of all its murders, that its artifact should be somewhere near the forest’s edge.

Closing your phone and dropping it in your pocket, you scoffed in frustration. The picture was taken straight from the album provided by the internet's map, and most of the photos uploaded there were captured by the satellite.

There was no way to compare and contrast the picture to what you could see in front of your eyes. Everywhere were greens and trees, short trails, and grass beds. 

Much like your last mission in the forest, you needed to take a wild guess and hope you get lucky with your search. At least you knew you had to keep to the edge this time. 

You roamed with your head in the clouds. There wasn't anything else to do besides daydreaming or thinking with a purpose. Whichever one came to you easier at the moment—the latter, obviously. You've got a lot to think about. 

First, it will be easier and faster if the Warp Curse decides to suck you underground and bring you directly to itself. 

The curse's power spanned across the forest from what you learned, most of them being speculations, but you were willing to take what was presented. It was no wonder so many hikers died on a leisurely day. The curse has an impressive reach. It would pull you underground and warp you to where its artifact is located, and then it would kill you for energy.

Second, what would you do with a million dollars? 

Abandoning hunting may be the first step since you were only doing this job to get by. The grand sum of money wasn't all that great when you were constantly blowing through it for medical expenses.

Your ruination curse heals at the pace of a snail strolling through a park, not considering your livelihood relied on having a functional body. Functional arms and legs, at least. 

If the family curse wasn't so greedy about hosting your body alone, you would have tried to sign a contract with a curse that has a faster healing process. 

You could use the money to find the remainder of your family. Specifically, the person who abandoned you near a police station when you were three years old. 

These three years of searching for clues have been less hectic than you desired, which was a reflection of your lack of progress in finding a blood relative. If you were close to your goal, you reckoned things might pick up the pace. 

But, all the ruination curse was willing to tell you was that it was a family curse, and all the police could provide you were three things: you were found at a park near the station, most of your family went missing years ago, and your uncle was sent to a mental institution by reason of insanity after killing most of your family members on Christmas night.

Oh, you would love to visit somewhere fun too, like an amusement park or an aquarium. Traveling the world sounded like a chore, so you might put that off for another year or two once you got the payment. 

You could go to college or try your hand at paying your way into a prestigious university. However, pursuing an education wasn’t appealing when you’ve got a million dollars to rationally spend. It wasn’t appealing now when you have empty pockets. 

You should prioritize buying a house, actually,  but that was unlikely to happen with today's market. An apartment was good enough. The thought of having a roof over your head instead of hopping through motels was desirable. 

The more you mapped out what to do with one million dollars, the giddier you became. If your client turned out to be a fraud, thus tearing your FastPass to an imaginary happy life, you might kill them along with the Warp Curse. 

The trees bustled around you as the wind suddenly picked up. Winter was steadily approaching, albeit much slower than the previous years. Feeling a short breeze or two, out in the forest nonetheless, was common. But your instincts—your monster-hunting psychic eye—spiked a joint of weariness in you. 

Your body tensed at the sound of the rustling leaves, fingers hardening, and toes curling into the bottom of your old and dusty shoes. As you carefully scanned your surroundings, you could not figure out the source of the rustling noise. It didn’t come from the leaves above you.

“Well, what have we here?” 

A voice! But was it a person or a curse? 

You whipped around to face where it came from, your feet cautiously taking two steps backward. The messy heaps of branches, all growing from the lower side of multiple trees planted in close quarters of each other, shifted. The leaves that adorned the wood swung like an elegant fan before they revealed the voice's owner. 

A man, wearing a coat unsuitable for the current weather and wearing black gloves, showing no skin besides what was above his collarbones, stepped out of the branches after his black derby cane stomped on the ground as an official entrance.

You tilted your head with squinted eyes. Someone’s missing a top hat, but that wasn’t the issue. You should be the only person in the forest. After multiple cases of the not-so-mysterious killing, law enforcement sealed off all forest entrances and forbade civilians from visiting.

You had to sneak past the security guards (which was easy) and the cameras (which was also easy, but researching their blindspots was time-consuming) to get inside. 

“Okay, here we go.” The man swung his cane off to the side in a pit of defeat after seeing the disdainful look on your face. To him, it couldn’t have been the cause of stranger danger. It must have been something about his attire today, which was just his daily attire.

“Is there something on my face? Or is it my height? Is it because I’m short? You think I can’t pull off an overcoat because I’m too short?”

When he saw your eyes travel down to his knees and back up to his face, he realized he read you wrong. His panicky questions about his appearance were what made you focus on them. It was not the first time he’d made this mistake, but he thought he kept repeating it to fulfill his inner comedian.

You furrowed your brows and sneered at him because you thought him embarrassing for being so anxious on your first encounter. You weren’t judging his attire or his height, at least not maliciously and not based on any fashionable knowledge. Who asks four questions in a row only a second into meeting a stranger? 

“Actually, don’t answer those questions. I fear you will hurt my feelings.” He waved a hand with a bashful smile that surprisingly still fit a man his age.

Looking down at his feet as if taking a short moment to make himself a mockery, he returned his eyes to you. He toned down his bright disposition when he saw that you remained cautious of him. “My apologies. This is all spiraling out of control. I need to stop improvising so much and stick to the plan I was given–“

His sentence was abruptly cut short by a claw or a hook. The event happened so suddenly that your reflexes didn’t register it fast enough to tell you to close your eyes when fresh blood splattered onto your face. 

Your lashes caught the droplets instead of your widened eyes, and as you could not avert your gaze from the man, you finally saw that it was a giant hook. A big upside-down fish hook. It pierced through the man’s head, the pointed end going through the top of his head and out the bottom of his chin as if making him the bait for a fishing activity.

Blood dried along the black, gooey surface of the hook. You’ve seen that texture before multiple times to be the skin of a typical monster. This monster was likely manifested by the Warp Curse to protect its homeostatic body. 

The knowledge didn’t ease your mind at all. While you have seen many a monsters, you’ve never seen a dead person, let alone watch one get killed. It was an aftermath of you choosing to work independently. 

Rigidly, you turned your head over to look at the killer. 

With a hook of that size, it was no surprise that the monster was almost as tall as the trees in the forest. It looked like multiple rotten tree branches haphazardly stuck together into a worm-like body. Its head, protruding like stacked tree branches, shifted like fat pounds of flesh, with sharp teeth sticking out at random spots. Its hands and horns were curled into a hook-like structure.

You suspected it could shift its mass at will, though, as you would have caught sight of it the second you snuck inside the forest if it was always this huge.

That didn’t matter. It could be in the shape of a kitchen knife, a clothing hanger, or a fly swatter. If it could kill you, you have to either leave the premises or end it before it could get you.

Your hand reached for the handle of your sword, strapped to the belt around your skirt, which you wore so your legs had ample space to explode when needed. At the same time, or at a pace much quicker than yours, the monster raised its other hook high and brought it down the direction of your head.

A cane stuck out at the speed of light. It went through the hoop of the claw and trapped it in the air, only a few inches away from your tiny head. It took you a few seconds to snap away from nearly being stabbed. When you finally recognized the familiar cane, your eyes gradually pulled into a confused frown. 

Only one person here owned one: the stranger you just met. You looked toward him and a bold gasp left your lips when you saw him already looking back at you, one arm stretched out with his cane to block the attack for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, blood still squirting from his injuries. “I’m surprised you still flinch at these things!”

You looked visibly appalled, which he understood. He definitely wouldn’t say he cared much the first time he saw a mutilated body. But, if there was anything he learned growing up, it was that some people were simply more mentally endurable than others! 

Besides that, he knew you must be confused, which he also understood. He definitely wouldn’t say he’d still question the impact of biology at this day and age when curses make binding contracts with humans like gamblers at a casino. But, if there was anything he learned growing up, it was that some people were simply smarter than others! 

“Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself,” he said over the monster’s growls. 

Turning his cane sideways so the handle laid horizontally, he pushed his arm down to tip the cane upward, knocking the hook away from your head. Throwing his cane into the air for a quick moment and catching the middle of the shaft, the man closed one eye to aim for the body of the claw before throwing his cane straight at it.

The pierce of the cane flew at a velocity strong enough to knock the claw back into a nearby tree, and it was strong enough to keep it nailed to a spot. 

“I’m Chan, host of the Immortal Curse,” he introduced before his eyes rolled up. “I’m gonna need help pulling my head out of this claw. Do you mind?”

You minded. Of course, you minded! You wanted nothing to do with that bloody pulp of a man hanging on a monster claw like a rag doll. Witnessing him talk under that circumstance was disturbing even after knowing he was bound to the Immortal Curse. The pain should at least paralyze him for a while, yet he was up and chatting. 

Unsheathing your sword anyway, you nudged your head at the monster standing tall to indicate to Chan that you’ve got a bigger problem than his head stuck in a claw. 

“Don’t worry about the monster. My partner will handle it!” Chan exclaimed after huffing out a dissatisfied laugh that you didn’t heed his request immediately. 

The monster shifted about in multiple attempts to pull its claw away from his needle-like derby cane. It was a miracle his head wasn’t sliding about the curve of the hook like a wooden bead maze. 

He pointed at his head, his eyes maniacally wide. “I’m getting old. Pain is starting to bother me! Also, I’m sure I look ridiculous, so come here and help me!”

You relaxed your stance, but your expression remained frigid without trust and clear information of the now. You looked at him, then around him at the monster.

Chan noticed your hesitation and attributed it to needing proof that the monster would be taken care of. He smiled, his voice cracking defeatedly in the process; he couldn’t blame you for being cautious on a curse-hunting job. It was something he would do as well. 

“Kim Seungmin! Get your ass over here and help us!”

“Don’t use my government name.” 

A voice as clear as crystal, seemingly sounding directly from the chest into an open throat, traveled through the wind blowing behind you. The bushes rustled once again before another stranger entered. 

He sauntered to you with his hands in his pockets and promptly stopped by your side. For someone with such purposefully lazy eyes, his posture was pointedly straight.

He leveled Chan with nonchalance as if he’d seen the same bloody sight more than enough to get used to it. Then he sighed in annoyance because, despite being used to it, Chan would never stop being a pest, and helping him was always a chore. 

“He is always like this,” Seungmin said once he pulled a hand out of his pocket. He planted his palm on your shoulder, squeezed to keep you in place, and waited for it to light up a green-black color.

Before you could retaliate against his touch, he spoke, “Sorry to borrow yours, I haven’t pissed enough people off today. Don’t worry, though. It’s better that I take them off your hands.” 

You shook your head at him, confused. Putting two and two together, Seungmin realized that Chan hadn’t gotten to explain anything or introduce anybody to you. He let his jaw drop in acknowledgment before letting his hand slip off your shoulder. 

He rolled up one sleeve to reveal his forearm, which was painted with bulging black veins. You could see the blood traveling through the vessels to his fingertips, gathering to completely darken his nails beyond recognition. 

It was as much of a rare sight for you as it was for Seungmin. 

He’d never collected this much karma from a single individual, so much almost his entire arm was blackened with it. The closest he has gotten to this effect was when he took from Chan, but considering that man’s personality, it may be hard not to accumulate so much karma.

Even he gets pissed at that boisterous fraud multiple times a day, so frequently he couldn’t remember why he was annoyed in the first place. 

Closing his fist to feel the energy, Seungmin figured all of this may come from your curse rather than yourself. 

“Seungmin. Karmic Curse,” he informed without looking at you. “Can you go over and hold him in place? I'm going to blast the claw out of his head. It's much faster."

You furrowed your brows and pulled a grimace. It was a question unasked when you debated if you wanted to help Chan or deal with the monster—how would you get the claw out of his brain? 

Sliding him out of it sounded painful and slow. Aggravating the beast so it swings its claw enough that he slips out of it would make a mess. Pushing the claw out of his head garnered an even worse painful illusion than sliding him out of it.

The conclusion was that this situation was terrible no matter how you viewed it.

"Hey, I got it from here," Seungmin said, returning you to reality. He was surprised you felt hesitant in causing pain, considering how you afforded to work as a hunter. "Go help Chan before he decides you’ve stalled enough time for him to rant about being abandoned for the next few hours. And trust me, he will complain.”

He put a surprising lot of emphasis on ‘will,' as if he believed Chan wouldn't make his whiny tendencies known within five minutes of meeting someone, purposefully or not.

You blinked at Seungmin for a good second before you sheathed your sword. He felt more trustworthy, and you got that from the mere fact that he wasn't incessantly cheerful when he saw you.

"Oh, good! What made you decide I'm finally worthy of attention, hm?" Chan asked in a quick slur before he shouted, "Clearly not my bleeding head!”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, which wasn’t hard considering you were about to get another massive round of blood powdered onto your face, you reached around his waist and held him down on the ground. 

Looking afar at Seungmin, who had taken a few steps backward to avoid the whiplash of close-quarter shooting, angled his arm upward so his fingertip leveled with the curve of the hook-like claw. When he fired the karma, it blasted across the air like a gunshot and tore the claw off the side of Chan’s face. 

When his torso went limp, you let go and dropped him to the ground. Without any time to react to the splatter of blood on your face, barley seeping through your eyes and mouth, the monster behind you screeched, unsure from pain or annoyance.

Still, the intensity of its noise broke you away from the allurement of glimpsing at the bloody aftermath on the floor. 

Snapping your neck to access your surroundings, you immediately unsheathed your sword again. You jumped to catch the end of its swinging hook, letting it take you into the air. A grimace surfaced at the gooey skin and how you could feel your hand submerge in its wetness. Despite its disgusting texture, you crawled with the help of its sticky skin before hoisting yourself on top of its claw. 

Your legs curled around the curve to keep from falling, and you wasted no time raising your sword and stabbing it through. Once you deemed it deep enough, a clanking noise sounded from your sword while something in your backpack exploded. The claw you sat on followed after, bursting open and leaving you in the air with no support.

With one of the monster’s arm stuck to a tree and another gone, Seungmin took the chance to power up his makeshift gun. He waited for you to drop to the ground; he would catch you, but there were bigger things to worry about than you fracturing an ankle from the fall. 

Once you landed, with a loud thud, he pointed his index finger at the eyes of the monster and made another shot. You took cover by curling into a ball as the shot blazed past you. Once the shot entered the creature’s mouth, Seungmin waved his hand to create an explosion from within, leaving nothing to remain but a downpour of its fluids.

Everything remained still for a little after. That went by quicker than usual. Typically, as you often try not to resort to using your curse unless necessary, killing a monster would take much longer than one second of a shoot. No complaints about the process being quick, though. At least you didn’t have to do all the work. 

Considering the size of the monster, if Seungmin wasn’t here, you’d probably have to break a leg or two. 

You pushed yourself off the floor by using your sword as an anchor, and then you sheathed it slowly so you could spend your attention on finding Chan’s body. You saw Seungmin standing over it with a cane, and you approached him. 

Noticing your presence, he barely turned his head to glance at you, then back at Chan on the floor. He used all the karma he took from you to kill the monster. Sleeve rolled down to his wrist, his arm no longer felt heavy. 

Much as he expected, the amount and intensity of the sins your curse brewed were more than enough to end the monster with a straightforward attack. The Ruination Curse and its atrocities—he’s heard all about it from Chan in the short pursuit for you. Finally seeing you in person, you were underwhelming. 

“Welcome back,” he greeted when Chan began to stir. 

The previous numbness remained vivid, but so far, it had gone away from the side of his face torn open when the claw was forced out the side of his head. It has got to be one of the more painful events he’s experienced these years, but he did die the moment it happened, so, to be fair, he barely went through any pain. 

Touching his jaw, Chan casually cracked his neck as he stood up, and then he was beaming for the return of his durable cane.

“I’m certain there were other ways to get me out of the hook, but you chose the most painful one,” Chan said. He reached into his coat pocket and took out a handkerchief. 

“I could have kept you there and let your flesh heal into the claw,” Seungmin retorted as he shoved his hands back in his pockets. 

“Never a peaceful moment with you,” Chan mused, dusting his coat before haphazardly shoving the handkerchief back where it came from. He turned to you and sighed in mock annoyance. “He’s always like this.”

You eyed Seungmin once before you shrugged. If you have to choose, you will pick Seungmin’s aloof temperament over Chan’s overwhelmingly sunny disposition that bordered as suspicious. Besides, how a stranger treats you was never within your realms of worry. You would never see them again, and you almost always have bigger things to deal with, such as the Warp Curse.

Considering the monster attacked you here, it should mean the cursed artifact was near. You’ve wasted enough time chatting; you should get going before the night arrives.  

Giving the two a nod, you brought your hand into a faint wave before turning around, prepared to continue your expedition.

Seeing your ready departure, Chan raised his brows in dramatic panic. He threw his cane up to catch it by the end and shot the handle out toward you. It hooked onto the back of your shirt, but you didn't notice it until you were abruptly stopped in your tracks by the restriction it placed upon you. 

You jerked around with an irritated glare, your eyes hardened with a furrow so intense you almost created yourself an extra eyelid. Chan rested the tip of his cane back on the floor. He didn't seem to believe he'd done anything unusual, which wasn't surprising. 

You opened your mouth only to suck in a huge breath, all the words you wanted to say swallowed by your inability to voice them. Coming to terms with that, you squeezed your eyes shut and turned away, honing into the silence of your mind. 

A pointed smirk was evident on Chan’s face. “Yeah. The Sound Monster is a bitch, isn’t it?”

You opened your eyes slowly into a squint. Chan was correct. Your voice was taken by the Sound Monster when you were very young. It was abrupt. You were praying to God to be reunited with your family, a mother and an uncle you could barely remember, and others you’ve never met. 

Then, suddenly, your voice vanished. Your foster parents dug around to find a reason behind the disappearance, but you were medically cleared. They eventually concluded that the Sound Monster had taken it. You haven’t been able to speak since. 

Back then, you didn’t understand why you were chosen to be stolen from. Now that you’ve grown up, the criteria wasn’t any less confusing despite you scouring the internet for information and stories. 

It seemed the Sound Monster picked at random, and you were just unlucky. But that shouldn’t be something Chan knew. It wasn’t uncommon for someone without a voice to be a victim of the Sound Monster, but it also wasn’t common for one to be.

The ratio between being born mute, becoming mute from an accident, and having your voice taken by a monster was balanced. Chan was weird for assuming the latter unless he already knew who you were. 

Seungmin rubbed the bridge of his nose when he saw the pointed look you gave Chan. This wasn’t exactly the plan. Sure, they were supposed to find you and introduce themselves. Surprisingly, none of them factored in how monsters lurked around a forbidden forest and would increase tension. 

Alas, there was a monster, and on top of that, Chan was the least subtle man on Earth. One thing on top of another, it wasn’t the best idea to spring onto you the fact that they’ve been stalking you for a while. 

“Maybe I should do the talking,” Seungmin suggested after he leaned toward Chan.

“But you’re terrible at talking,” Chan responded at the same volume of a whisper.

“You’re bad at making people want to listen to you.”

“That insult doesn’t hold the value you think it does,” Chan mused with a dismissive wave too close to Seungmin’s face. He returned to you, his smile more polite than friendly, but there was an element of natural mockery he may not be giving off on purpose. “Let’s chat.” 

You faintly shook your head, a movement to accompany your features morphing into the manifestation of incredulousness. The smile on Chan’s face deterred for a thoughtful second before he closed his eyes in realization. 

One finger pointed skyward, he sent you a dramatic nod—one single nod—and began reaching into his coat pocket to fumble out a notebook and pen. He limped toward you unnecessarily; you knew he could walk fine.

“My apologies, once again. How callous of me! You don’t have a voice.” He grabbed your hands and forcefully placed the notebook and pen in them. “Thankfully, I’m prepared. You can write with these.”

You held onto the items with one hand, clearly uninterested in using them. While unfazed by the proven assumption that these two strangers knew who you were, you had no intention of chatting with them. 

They could be rival hunters looking to kill the same curse. In that case, you’d want nothing to do with them. They could be random stalkers, to which you would respond with neither fear nor intrigue. All you wanted was to complete the mission, receive your end of the contract, and go home.

“I’d much rather be left alone,” you signed.

“Oh, we don’t do that. We don’t understand sign language because, obviously, we can talk,” Chan immediately responded. He pointed at the pen and paper in your hand. “This is accomodation. Please utilize the resources at your disposal.” 

Seungmin pursed his lips to prevent a defeated smile. That felt moderately problematic, but Chan’s confidence and nonchalance in executing rudeness made it less targeted. He wasn’t sure if he should make a point for Chan to stop acting like this, not that verbally accosting him has ever changed his ways. 

When you two accidentally shared a glance, Seungmin grimaced, but he wasn’t apologetic. 

“Leave me alone,” you wrote hastily instead. 

“Well! If only we all got what we wanted! I wouldn’t be holding this cane if that’s the case!” Chan laughed, but his eyes shifted to an unexplained glare as if you’ve taken something from him. People like him always thought the world owed them something. It wasn’t uncommon. “How about I offer a proposal instead of accepting your request?”

You rolled your tongue toward your inner cheek. You would always take advantage of an opportunity to earn more money. “I’m in the middle of a job.”

“For the Warp Curse, I know,” Chan said. “I am your client.”

“Great. So you’re a stalker. Through and through.” You shoved the notebook to his face, to which he backed off to avoid it. A thought flashed through your head, and you quickly flipped a page to write at an intensity so strong you could scratch a hole through the paper. “Do you even have a million dollars?”

You could see it. You could see your daydream vanishing before your eyes. 

The apartment you’d own, a regular college life, finally reuniting with some of your family—your promised million dollars was the center of a fraudulent contract. It was all too hasty. You should have checked before signing onto something too good to be true. 

Glaring up at Chan, you wondered if you wanted to kill him until you realized he has the Immortal Curse, and you weren’t breaking an arm just to watch him get back up again. 

“Stalker is a bad word for a description of me, but I don’t mind being praised once in a while,” Chan responded, then cleared his throat.

“And no, I don’t have a million dollars. But hold on, little sphinx–“ he reached out to pull you back from taking a prompted leave again–“I’ve got something better than a million dollars that I reckon you’d be interested in.” 

You swatted his hand away and fixed your shirt, soothing it down at the bottom and dusting off the fabric on your chest. You scoffed by blowing air out of your mouth, which made it similar to huffing, but those with the proper context would know what you were trying to do. Not sure if they would take into consideration your annoyance, though. 

Scribbling on the notebook again, you turned it around and raised a brow at Chan.

“WHAT?”

“I love the full capitalization. It’s like you’re shouting at me,” he joked as he stomped the cane on the ground for attention already on him. He sucked in a breath, preparing for the grand reveal, then asked, “How much would you like to help us kill the Sound Monster?”

“You can’t kill the Sound Monster.” 

It was the first response you gave them. You wrote it down without hesitation.

The Sound Monster wasn’t ordinary. Unlike the creature you just faced, it wasn't bred by a homeostatic curse. It wasn’t a product of species reproduction, which monsters have learned to do over the centuries as their sign of evolution. It wasn’t—technically—man-made. A person with a specific curse did not mold the Sound Monster into existence, and the ministry ruled out the creation of monsters through curses a long time ago for obvious reasons.

It was created by people, but it was done unintentionally.

Besides its uniqueness, the Sound Monster has a lasting impact on its victims and those adjacent to them. 

Taking one person's voice inconveniences the individual, and those around them, and the Sound Monster has taken a lot of voices. Hence its disreputable size and dreadful appearance. Only a handful of people have seen it up close. After realizing the amount of people out for its life, it closed itself off to a remote area. 

But, those who have seen the Sound Monster described it as a fleshy pulp. Its body was twisted together through thousands of esophagi, making throaty noises as it stomped, and it spoke with all the voices it stole: there shall be no hope, there shall be no prayers.

“It will be like killing a God.” 

Seungmin raised a brow at your statement. He didn’t necessarily disagree. The Sound Monster was speculated to be the aftermath of the Miracle Goddess descending into madness after receiving too much hatred from unanswered prayers, hence its mantra about hopes and prayers. He thought that speculation best suited the Sound Monster’s existence. 

However, ultimately, there was no guarantee. It may be a regular monster with immeasurable power because taking voices was the easiest thing to do. 

Besides, a monster would never be anything other than its name, regardless of where it came from. Seeing it as the Miracle Goddess, not the Sound Monster, was your mistake. 

“It won’t be like killing a God,” Seungmin disagreed nonchalantly. “In fact, it’ll just be like killing a monster.”

"However, even if it meant killing a God–" Chan chimed in enthusiastically. He was now relying more on his leg to walk. He saw that you noticed, but to avoid the current, far more prioritized topic, he didn't mention anything about it. "That is where you come in, dungeon crawler!"

"You and your whatever–ruins curse, rumination curse, ruffian curse–" he blew a messy raspberry–"your ability is going to be vital to our operation to kill–"

“Ruination.” You shoved the notebook at Chan’s face in emphasis. 

You underlined it three times, which he thought was unnecessary. 

It was the only word on the page, so there was no way he wouldn't see it. You detestably interrupted him with your lack of attention and lousy scribbling to correct an insignificant mistake. Although, to him, all errors made by his hands shall be minor. 

Alas, a man with a mission would be humble to those he required. He moved his head out of the square frame to deadpan at you before he sucked in a deep breath, brows raised with a calming mind. 

“My apologies–your Ruination Curse,” he corrected before waving a hand at your notebook and pen.

“I advise you to stop interrupting me. I talk much faster than you can write, and by the time you finish correcting me, I’ve moved on. Then you’d look terrible having to make me backtrack. Seriously. It’s more embarrassing for you than it is for me.”

“I don’t think it’s embarrassing.” Seungmin shrugged from the side.

"Your curse has you getting on people's nerves for a living," Chan sneered. "If I had skin as thick as yours, I'd find nothing embarrassing, too!"

You rolled your eyes. The irony was hot on the tongue.

“Never the matter, my point is–“ Chan raised his cane to point at your heart–“your curse’s ability to cause the destruction of anything if its host so desires is the key to killing the Sound Monster.”

“That’s refutable.” 

“It’s not,” Seungmin disagreed with a shake of his head. 

You narrowed your brows, your eyes gleaming with a dissatisfied sneer he couldn’t care less about. Looking down at the notebook, you quickly jotted something down and held it up. “What do you know about my curse?”

"Enough. Once we established we needed your help to defeat the Sound Monster, we researched you. Hence, we were able to track you down and offer you a curse-killing job," he replied. 

Chan leaned his torso forward not a beat later, popping from behind Seungmin’s shoulder with a grin. “We also know what happened to your family, by the way.” 

Your hands dropped to your side, but your fingers itched to move the pen. 

You already knew you were well-known among the hunting field because of your curse, but you’ve never personally met any of your clients and you’ve always used a fake identity for communication. No one ever knew they were talking to the person with the Ruination curse.

The fact that these two found you meant they weren't lying about looking into you. It was uncomfortable, but disregarding the confessed stalker behavior, your desire to know more about what happened to your family besides everyone's sudden disappearance was overwhelming.

What could they possibly know that law enforcement couldn't find out? 

“I was holding off on that,” Seungmin pointed out with a sigh. Considering the severity of your history and the current location, he thought it best not to mention something that would require a lot of time to explain and muster a lot of unnecessary emotions. 

“Why? They should know what happened.” Chan shrugged. 

“Are you sure it’s transparency you care about?” Seungmin turned to Chan. “Or do you want them to accept your favor in exchange for something they should already know anyway?”

"No one is entitled to information. If you want to know something so bad, you should have looked harder for it. Alas, I have something they want to know, so they'll have to work for that. No answers for free," Chan replied with a gentleman bow done out of, as usual, mockery. 

He straightened himself and exclaimed, "But of course, I care about getting what I want! If I can help them along the way, that'd be fantastic! Besides, information on your family is not my only leverage." 

You saw him wait for you to respond, silently gathering details of your subtle reactions to see if you cared enough about your family to not need him to enact his backup plans to rope you into this operation. He didn’t need to. You were already leaning toward joining it. 

Besides your family's history, having your voice back would be convenient. You just wanted to hear what he had to say. As obnoxious as he was, Chan has an outrageous amount of valuable intel for you that you failed to seek. 

“Which is?” 

“You can have your voice back.”

“Okay.” You wrote something more. “And?”

Chan smiled at your notebook. 

“Killing the Sound Monster means you can also kill the Ruination Curse.”

“I have to say I’m not a big fan of the cave,” Chan complained, for however many times now. “Actually, I’m not a big fan of any cave.”

Seungmin’s steps faltered. His shoulders slumped as he huffed, and his eyes rolled to the side to barely spare the whiny man a glance. “Yeah, you’ve made that clear.”

“You whine about everything,” Chan said. “Sooner or later, you’ll find out you are just like me.” 

The corner of your lips stretched downward as you watched Seungmin’s eyes roll to the beat of his exhausted sigh. You haven’t known him for long, but being stranded together with someone as insufferable as Chan developed a bubble of solidarity between you both. 

He might have felt the connection, too, as he immediately searched for your eyes to share another silent glance with you, a knowing smirk on his lips. Pausing your feet, you waited for him to catch up with your pace before walking. 

“He must have a lot of karma in him?” You showed Seungmin what you wrote, a finger jabbing at Chan, who walked ahead of you. 

He held back a brief chuckle. It wasn’t a flawed assumption, and it wasn’t wrong either. He just found it funny you thought that, and you were right. Chan has more karma stored in him than anyone on the team. 

Since karma was considered any evil deeds done by a person without counting the reaction of said deeds, it was easy for anyone to accumulate a level of karma in them, even if the act could garner only a small amount. Everyone litters or says the wrong thing once in a while. It was unavoidable. 

Nonetheless, Seungmin was always digging deeper into understanding his curse’s criteria because the fact that Chan has enough to act as a karma reservoir could either mean Seungmin’s curse worked in ways beyond his knowledge or that Chan has more secrets than he let on. 

Chan says and does many uncomfortable things, but verbal jabs and a whack of his cane don’t count for great karma. Seungmin didn’t think Chan had done nearly enough per day to garner so much karmic power, either. Something happened in his past that made him this way, just like your Ruination Curse made you. 

“He does, but not as much as your curse,” Seungmin whispered.

Your hand dropped slowly to your side when you realized you understood the pattern of his moving hands. Surprised eyes shaking between his fingers and finally up at his face, the excitement blossomed across your lips into a grin. 

You’ve had to accommodate others for so long, which hasn’t been a great hassle or anything. Still, encountering someone who didn’t have to wait more than five seconds for you to properly jot down a reply was pleasant.

Clutching the notebook with only two fingers to spare the others, you fumbled about where to put the pencil, gave up, clapped once, and signed back to him. 

“You know sign language?” 

“I’m still learning,” he said. “When we decided to recruit you, my best friend thought it was only fair that he learned how to communicate with you. He dragged me to take lessons with him.”

You pursed your lips. “You didn’t think to do it yourself?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t interested in learning something new. But this has been relatively easy to pick up. I made more progress than him.” 

“I can understand you fine, that’s for sure.” You huffed just as your lips stretched into a smile, giving an illusion of a laugh. After a short moment, you continued, “What’s your reason to kill the Sound Monster?”

“Do I need one?” he signed, then, with a frown, he spoke, “Monsters are monsters. It’s always beneficial to purge them.”

Chalking it to a deed for the greater good was always the easiest answer. It was understandable and clear. No sob story, no personal grievances, just out of sheer goodwill. People with those answers were often lying—you’ve never known anyone who does things out of mere goodness of the heart.

But Seungmin didn’t seem deceitful. He wasn’t set on the betterment of the world, that’s for sure, but he thought eliminating the Sound Monster could make the world more convenient, so there wasn’t a reason not to kill it. 

You nodded. Whatever his reason was, it wouldn’t bother you so long as it didn’t negatively impact you. 

The cave began to dim as you three moved away from the entrance. You realized you haven’t been paying attention to your surroundings, but didn't think you’ve missed the Warp Curse yet. 

There were no special skills or a keen eye when looking for a homeostatic curse; it could be the resident of anything, from rocks to trees, paintings to instruments. Sometimes even a dead body, but you’ve only heard of those instances and never seen them. 

The key element was that they had to be inanimate. Anyone bound to a curse would have an easier time figuring out where a homeostatic curse was simply because curses could recognize each other.

It usually manifested in the forms of anxiety symptoms, an unnatural unease, and bodily reactions that went against logic, such as sweating in a cool area.

In the same breath, detecting and destroying a curse with multiple hosts is more challenging.

Chan poked a piece of debris on the floor, not quite examining it because he didn’t think looking for the Warp Curse was his job. Then he stood up from the crouching position and swung his cane backward to swiftly turn to face you and Seungmin, who were both lagging behind, engrossed in a chatter.

He sighed—this was dragging out longer than he wanted. He should have suggested canceling the commission. 

“How long is this going to take?” Chan asked once you both were within earshot.

“Somebody is bored,” Seungmin mused with a roll of his eye.

You took out the notebook and pen and jotted two things down: you could sense the curse nearby and that he should occupy his time explaining why killing the Ruination Curse would benefit you. 

You tapped his shoulder and shoved the notebook to his face. Chan snatched it away to read your handwriting better before returning it, a frown hanging on his lips. He handed the notebook back to you and clicked his tongue in preparation. 

“Considering your family’s history with the curse, I’m not sure you want to keep it alive in your body,” Chan said. “I am coming at this from an emotional standpoint.”

The Ruination Curse was a family curse, which you already knew. It worked because every generation would pick an offspring as its new host. It wasn’t noted why the curse wanted to reside in younger bodies, but the assumption that it desired them was eliminated when the members of your family started having children, which forced the curse to reside in adults well into their forties. 

But, in every generation, there was only one member of the family that could utilize the Ruination Curse. The previous host of the curse, just before you, was your uncle. 

“Does he have a name?” you signed to Seungmin.

He shrugged. “I’m sure he has a name, but it’s scratched off every record for some reason. Not even the mental institution he was sent to figured out why his name was crossed off all the records a day after he escaped.”

“He escaped?” you signed frantically. “Why was he sent to a mental institution?” 

“He–“ Seungmin licked his lower lip and looked at Chan. “He escaped, or maybe he vanished into thin air. Nobody knows where he is. We didn’t find him either."

“Leaving the big news to me,” Chan mused with a smirk. He paused from walking and twirled his cane on the spot. “You are the last member of your immediate family, [Name]–“ he corrected himself–“you and your murderous uncle, actually.”

Your uncle had no intention of letting go of the Ruination Curse, but since he knew its parting wasn’t a choice he could make, he contrived a scenario where the curse would have no other host to jump to except him. 

On one Christmas gathering, back when your mother's pregnancy wasn't visible, and she had set to announce the good news at the party, your uncle used the Ruination Curse to cause a mass miscarriage. All the pregnant wives, which weren't many, within your family lost their baby, except for your mother. He didn't know of your existence yet. 

Only killing those unborn was a form of mercy. When he was challenged for his action, he took it as an attack on his morals and agency and decided to end the lives of those who stood up to him the same night. 

Your biological father was one of those people, and your mother—a smart woman stunned into faux calmness, sought empathy from her brother, which she obtained. After that night, those who were alive went their separate ways, and nobody spoke of the tragedy until your birth. 

"It came to me." You signed, slowing down and looking to Seungmin for confirmation. "The curse came to me automatically after I was born, and my mother…"

"She had cut contact with your uncle and fled to live somewhere far away. She left you with an old friend from college when she realized you inherited the curse. She might have wanted to pretend she wasn't the one who had a child, and maybe she was convincing, but he killed her anyway," Seungmin said. "Some of what I said are speculations, but mostly it's true." 

You looked at the floor. That was all you needed to know, and it took that much for you to realize you never had any reason to look for the truth. It didn’t answer any questions because you had no questions, and neither did it give you feelings of closure. You just felt lost and wasted, like your journey has come to a unfulfilling end. 

“Your mother’s old friend, the man she left you with. His name is Seo Changbin.” Chan twirled his cane and hummed. “He was the one who abandoned you at the police station.”

“Abandon–“

“I am not wrong,” Chan cut Seungmin off calmly. “It sounds bad because it is bad. Despite any nuance of the situation, I am right. I always am.”

“Is he alive?” 

“Why? Did you think he left you to keep you safe?” Chan mused. “Like what your mother did?” 

The ground suddenly gave away from beneath you all. 

You reacted quickly, unsheathing your sword and throwing yourself toward the wall, stabbing its pointed edge inside it. You jumped to stand on the grip, only searching for your two new companions when you've stabilized yourself.

Chan resorted to a similar method with his cane, except he dangled on it as if using a pull-up bar, groaning as he tried to pull himself over his thin cane. He looked up and immediately squeezed his eyes shut, a disgusted scream louder than the rumbling of the ground pushed out of his mouth. 

"My goodness! I suggest biker shorts!"

You grimaced. You grimaced. For everything he knew about you, one would have thought he'd understand your decision to keep your attire to a minimum. Besides, you were already wearing safety shorts, albeit very short ones. He was looking for things to complain about.

Ignoring him, you waved away the dust for a clearer sight. Across you was Seungmin, his entire forearm covered in goo that stuck itself to the wall. You raised your brows; you didn't know karma has other functions, too. 

Seungmin had begun the box breathing method to ease the beating in his ears, but he wasn't so much anxious as he was exhausted. The goo around his arm needed to support his entire weight, so it was tightening on him for dear life, practically cutting off the blood circulation. It would take longer for any irreversible damage, but the fatigue and numbness arrived within seconds, making him sweat.

“There’s all the missing hikers,” Seungmin muttered as he accessed the sight.

Below the collapsed ground was a formation of blood vessels. Each of them was linked to a sharp edge protruding from the ground like a nail, and they were stacked with dead hikers still in their hiking gear. 

The blood painted onto the nails was what made the vessels red, and staring dead at you in the middle was an ember-colored hole. That was where the blood gathered, and they must all flow toward—

The curse is here. You thought as you hopped off your sword and plucked it off the wall.

Chan squirmed away from you when you fell from a great height. You dodged the nails when you landed and covered your nose with your hand upon the decaying smell of bodies around you. Carefully, you made your way to the ember in the middle. You looked at it, then up at the curse, which was just an ordinary sapling growing out of a place it shouldn't. 

You rolled your eyes and raised your sword. Before you could hit it, Chan’s boisterous holler stopped you. You lowered your sword and spun around, staring at him with wide eyes that screamed annoyance and confusion. 

He fixed himself atop his cane and huffed. "Hey! Are you sure this is a great idea?" he asked. "You don't even know what that is. What if it just gets angry and retaliates?"

He raised a good point. You just didn't care that he made one. Taking out the pen and paper he gave you from your bag, you scribbled something and held it up in his direction. Seungmin snorted as Chan leaned forward with his eyes squinted, pretending to read the words on the notepad. When he finished his theatrics, he moved away from the awkward position.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” he said with a few approving nods. “You think I made a contract with the 20/20 vision monster!”

“I don’t think someone with perfect vision can see from all the way up here either,” Seungmin chimed in.

“Just telling me you can’t read it is also an option.” You raised the paper higher by stepping on your tippy-toes.

Chan’s eye twitched. Without trying to read your handwriting, he groaned with a slurred emphasis on each word, “I can’t read it.”

You chuckled with the faint movement of your shoulders, the air punching out of your nose indicating temporary humor. Dropping the pen and paper on the floor and picking up your sword, you turned to face the ember again. As you aimed it at the ember, getting ready to stab it, a bright light engulfed you. 

You closed your eyes, bringing an arm up to block any potential attacks, and when you opened your eyes again, you were moved far away from the hole. You looked up at Seungmin, and he shrugged in response.

“It’s the Warp Curse. You didn’t think it’s going to warp you?” he said. “At least we know it doesn’t want us to destroy the ember.”

“That’s more reason not to touch it,” Chan said. “We don’t know if that is the heart of the curse. If we make it angry, we’re all doomed here.”

Seungmin pulled a face. “You mean I am doomed. Both of you are immortal.”

“They are actually partial,” Chan pointed out. “I’m the real immortal here.”

“What do we do then?” you sighed after clapping your hands for their attention, shifting your weight onto one leg and dropping your sword to your side.

“I don’t know. Do it again?” Seungmin suggested. “Let me see what it’s actually doing.”

You spared him a disapproving glance but didn’t have any brighter ideas, so you did as he asked. You approached the ember, raised your sword, and got teleported elsewhere. The pattern repeated several times until you decided to stop, glaring up at Seungmin to pressure him into figuring something out. 

He avoided eye contact to think. He noticed something, but he wasn’t sure how viable his idea was. Looking up at his arm, which must be turning paler based on the numbness, he sighed. He slowly released the karma from the wall so he could slide off of it instead of falling feet first. When he landed, he dusted his hands and hurried to where you stood. 

“Hey! Are you guys abandoning me?” Chan shouted. 

“You should join us down here!” Seungmin said. “Your face is turning red. You’re gonna fall!”

“You wish I would! I might be old, but I’m very endurable!” he exclaimed, tightening his grip on his cane. “You guys figure out how to kill the curse so I can get out of here! The dead bodies stink!”

You rolled your eyes. “The real surprise is his cane being able to hold his weight.”

“It can do much more than that,” Seungmin signed back, then he said, “It’s his partner in crime.” 

“Why does he need it?” You almost spared Chan a glance, which would have given away the fact that you were talking about him. “He doesn’t limp.”

“Nobody knows. He makes up stories. My friend looked him up, but there was nothing.” Seungmin shrugged. “He sometimes limps.”

“Nobody knows why?”

“What else can it be? An accident.”

“Hey, I love that you are hitting it off with them. But can you focus on your mute outreach program some other time? I’m getting tired!”

Seungmin put a hand on his hip and squinted, the corner of his lips quirking into an unamused smirk. “You said you’re endurable.”

“One word for you, young man–“ Chan leaned his head forward as if to spit–“coexistence!”

Seungmin turned around. “I don’t blame you if you reject our invite.”

“I hate to say this, but it’s not like I have a million dollars to give you, so why don’t we leave?” Chan continued. “The area is already on lockdown anyway. We should let the city deal with it! That’s what our tax dollars are for!”

“He hasn’t paid taxes in years. What is he talking about,” Seungmin muttered. 

“Neither have I.” You grimaced. 

“You’re legally unemployed,” he said. “You’ve never paid taxes.”

You shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. All of your bounty-hunting jobs were through backdoors. None of them were official, and most of them were suspicious, but those were the ones that paid the most. 

“Anyway, this thing seems to operate like a tunnel,” he signed. “If you get put in, you can always get pulled out.” 

As Seungmin cleverly pointed out, since the curse might understand human language, it came in handy that you two could communicate through sighs. Since he was still learning, he mainly talked through short and choppy sentences with a few keywords that could get his point across. 

He told you he noticed a few patterns of which you were warped, meaning the curse must have laid out specific routes that it could use. It was no coincidence that all those routes ended up somewhere above a nail. Another thing he saw was that you turn invisible when you were being warped, and judging by the laying of routes, he doubted the curse could see you when you were in the middle of the routes.

“Okay. This should be secure enough.” 

He squeezed your hand firmly and pulled at your fingers to check for security. You two shared a nonchalant nod as he removed his hand from yours. You rubbed your fingers to feel the goo he transferred to your skin; like he warned, they stung like spicy mint or super glue on your skin.

Seungmin watched you intently as you approached the ember again. You twirled your sword so the point faced the ground, and as you pretended to puncture the ember, you were whisked away. Forcing your eyes open, you waited a few seconds for the curse to push you toward a considerable height before you let go of your sword. 

Seungmin ran toward the direction of where you were moved away. There were only faint lines of the ‘tunnel,’ so he could barely see where you traveled to amid the multiple routes possible.

He raised a hand, and a thin line of goo webbed between his and yours. He turned his wrist around the line and held it to keep it steady, and then, with one leg anchored on the floor, he pulled the string over his shoulder.

The light around you disappeared like a camera flash as you were snatched away from the air tunnel. Your blurry vision steadily rubbed itself away, but you could faintly make out the shape of your sword still in the air.

Once you were almost in arm’s reach, you shot a hand out and grabbed its handle, and then you leaned your weight forward so you could begin to fall to the ground.

Seungmin raced to the ember when the karmic string snapped. There was no way the curse would idly sit by this operation, and he couldn’t count on the probability that it couldn’t activate its warp one after another within a moment’s rest. If his assumptions were correct, when you were about to fall sword first into the ember—

He pulled you down by your shirt and shielded you from behind, briefly taking your place, and then he was flung into the air. 

—the warp curse would try to remove you again.

Wind released between the crack of the broken ember, and one by one, explosions from beneath the blood trail broke apart its food source.

The ground rumbled beneath you, forcing you to lose your footing. As you were too busy trying to regain your composure, a slit cracked between your feet, and then bigger and bigger until a rocky nail shot upward from the spot.

You were pushed aside in the nick of time, and there came a trail of pained groans from none other than the gentleman himself. The earthquake didn’t stop, but you scrambled up to your feet upon the chaos and bolted toward the curse. Grabbing a fistful of the sapling, you squeezed it tightly in your hand and willed for its destruction. 

Your arm twisted with a pop—a low price for multiple lives lost, and the sapling in your hand turned into ashes. 

The nails crumbled soon after, dropping all its victims to the ground in several thuds. Chan spat the blood out of his mouth as he tried to get off the ground, but instead, he flipped his body over so he could lay on his back. With his eyes closed in relief, he breathed away the pain in his chest as his curse sealed his injury up. 

“I hate this job,” he muttered, earning a chuckle from Seungmin, who walked up to him just to kick his thin.

“How’re you holding up, old man?” Seungmin asked. “Hyunjin did offer to be here today.” 

“If it wasn’t for me, they would have died–“ Chan groaned. “Ugh, I forgot they can’t die too.”

You held onto your broken arm as you made your way to them. Chan closed the eye closest to you when you neared, turning his head away and bringing a finger gun up at you.

“I’ll repeat it,” he laughed, “try biker shorts.”

You clicked your tongue as you took a big step back, pressing your hand onto your skirt to cover up. 

“Is your arm broken?” Seungmin asked, gesturing toward it. “We can check it out at base. The one who was supposed to be here in Chan’s place is our medic.”

You nodded. Agreeing to head to their home would have established your agreement to join their operation to kill the sound monster. Truthfully, there wasn’t much else you could do as an individual project now that they have explained your family history. Killing the sound monster didn’t sound like a bad next step. 

“I guess I’m in?”

“Great. I’m glad you agree,” Chan groaned as he sat up. When he noticed your surprised expressions, he smiled. “Yeah, I do know sign language. I had a weird sister.”

As you and Seungmin drowned yourselves in shock and mild annoyance, Chan ruffled his hair and looked around. He nonchalantly looked past the dead bodies on the floor and exhaled.

“Say, do you think we can still get monetary rewards for finding these missing people?”

[journey-to-the-attic]

one thing about ik is that she will always reach out

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Lackadaisy Enrichment

[cecoeur]

How do you sleep at night? No one to hide behind Betrayed every alibi you had You had every chance to make amends instead you got drunk on bitterness And you still claim that you're innocent, it's sad

[sadlynotthevoid]

Something I really love about Wind Breaker is that not only you see how Sakura grows as person, but it also shows you important life lessons. Things that you may already have heard, but now you have a story as example to help you interiorize it. And shounen mangas target audience generally are teens and children, so that's great.

For example, Suzuri's arc.

He and his teammates start as the villains, but when the story advances, its revealed that they're not bad. They're desperated, they're trying to survive. They were in the wrong but that doesn't mean they're bad nor evil. This teaches the reader, if they didn't already know, that people who do wrong are not necessarily bad. That someone who hurts you could be someone who is also extremely kind to others. That recognizing this is important but not all what there's to it.

Suzuri's arc also teaches you that— ironically for a manga where almost every character is a fighter— violence doesn't solve everything. Sometimes you need to think a little on how can you help others and sometimes the people you're trying to help must want the help. Because it wasn't just the Roppo-Ichiza's job offers what ended the conflict, it was also Suzuri's planning and determination.

Other character that teaches you a lot is Tsubaki. And I don't mean just his backstory (which does, I can't convey in words how beautiful his story is and how meaningful it is).

There's a line when he's fighting that discount Tintin guy where he says something on the lines of "I like who I am when I'm in love with Umemiya" (probably not the exact words, but I don't have the panel at hand). This line is so important because it's not only such a Tsubaki thing to say, but is also something you never consider about romantic love: liking someone can change you into a better or worse person, and that's important to take in account when you're deciding what to do about it.

This also applies to other forms of love and bonds, but I've never seen it applied to romantic love out of fanfiction or movies and that was always in a negative way only.

I just think it's an important lesson, that loving and liking doesn't have to be about what the other person has, but how it affects you. Tsubaki likes himself better when he likes Umemiya because is a version of himself he can be proud of, whether it is because the him who likes Ume is a braver version of himself or because he has grown as a person since then.

I'm not saying he wasn't brave or he couldn't be proud before, because he could, all his character is about being brave to be himself, proud to be himself, and loving yourself. It's just that he has someone holding his back now (besides the old couple, bless their souls). I mean, I think Ume is the first person of his age to accept him for who he is, if I'm not mistaken.

(We also have an example of the opposite— how liking someone can make you worse— later in Endo.)

Lastly, something that Wind Breaker shows you that many adults fail on learning is this: the importance of communication skills.

I'm talking about Sako. Sako, who spent years being mad at someone who he looked up to because of a misunderstanding. That Sako.

His problem was not just "you didn't say what I wanted to hear", it was also that he never voiced his problem with Hiiragi's decision until a lot of time had passed.

Later on, on the post-noroshi war festival, Nii Satoru makes them have a conversation. Because, yes, they weren't enemies anymore, but they still needed to clear things up.

I think a lot of people could beneficiate from learning two things of this two: 1) communication is important to keep any kind of relationship, and it has to be clear from both parts, and 2) others can make decisions by you.

The second is pointed out by Kaji when he tells Sako that Hiiragi said the same to him, but he followed him anyways because it was his decision.

(I'm never going to stop laughing at them)

And you could say "yeah, i guess it's good for your mind, but what about the story in itself?" Well, I think learning all of this along Sakura helps you connect deeply with him. You're developing your empathy right along with him. It still applies if you already knew all of the stuff above.

It's not just some boy with issues on his way to be the strongest. It's a boy, who aims to be the strongest, learning to be a person and live as he connects with others. Wind Breaker is not about the end of the journey but about the journey itself.

on the topic of this post I made I also wanna talk about how nii satoru utilizes giving us, the readers, characters' backgrounds as a whole.

So far the characters we've seen flashbacks of/gotten backstories of have been Umemiya, Choji and Togame, Tsubaki, Hiragi and Sako and Kaji, Endo and Takishii, suzuri, and Sugishita (give or take a few more characters).

This might seem like a lot of characters, but the thing is, we're always given these flashbacks and backstories because we need them, or because they parallel to Sakura in one way or another.

Us getting Umemiya's backstory gives us a very big opening into learning WHY he is the way he is and why he does everything the way he does. It reveals to us why he focuses so much on eating with people and gardening, when it wasn't something we might've been wondering in the first place. As such a monumental guide and positive role model for Sakura, learning about Umemiya's past and how those key moments have effected him today allows us to realize just how much growing up Sakura still needs; while Umemiya's seemed to have completed his own journey in a way, Sakura is still leaps and bounds away from completing his own.

Choji and Togame and their history together with Shishitoren gives us more perspectives. With Togame, it gives us reasoning behind why he'd been choosing to act the way he'd been when we first met him, and creates depth by having us learn that he's not just some crazy evil guy who wants to stomp on people just for fun, he's been in agony for years. With Choji, it gives us another perspective on what it might look like for someone to find their way to the top with no further purpose, which is what Sakura's original goal was. He didn't want to be at the top so he could be a leader, he wanted at the top to prove himself and nothing more. With no further goal in mind, he could easily fall into a similar path as what Choji was walking down before the duel with Umemiya.

Tsubaki gives us hindsight and details on his own past and why he's so loyal to Furin and Umemiya, and why he is the way he is, which is important due to the themes surrounding his character involving self-acceptance and identifying with something outside of the norm. Both of those things are important to Sakura, with his unique looks and his overarching story revolving around the acceptance of others and himself. It was a backstory he, as well as us, needed to hear.

Suzuri's story rings similar to Sakura: both had upbrings that scarred them and let them down (as it's implied a LOT that Sakura's own past hasn't been nice to him in the slightest, and has given him below the bare minimum), but while Sakura ultimately chose to join Makochi, and later Furin, Suzuri did not have that grace of choice and instead could only choose what he could, which was leading his own gang through desperate measures. Like Choji, Suzuri's story can be real as a possible parallel to what Sakura could have been, but it also shows as a way to humanize Suzuri, who up until that point we saw as nothing but a mindless enemy.

Kaji's backstory and his mentorship to Sakura is important to us too, because we learn how far Kaji has come himself with the guidance of Hiragi that he uses to then help guide Sakura. It establishes a connection and bond between more of the Wind Breaker characters that makes them feel more fleshed-out and three-dimensional, and gives more depth to the world they live in.

etc etc... I'd add more but this post is getting too long. The point is, we're getting the backstories to our supporting cast and enemies because they build an increased depth to the overall story or increase our perspectives on characters that would otherwise remain flat or just simple. And we only get it when it matters, such as keep moments in the middle of an arc, or at the beginning to help. nii satoru isn't just throwing out information to us all willy-nilly, there's thought and care behind all of this.

This all comes to a head with the question, "why haven't we gotten a certain someone's backstory yet?" and that answer is very, sweetly simple. Because we don't need it. Because Wind Breaker is about him. We're getting backstories of other characters because Wind Breaker ISN'T ABOUT THEM, not as its core. We need backstories from other characters as a way to learn about them and their reasonings/motivations so we have complex and well-rounded characters, but without them needing a novel each, so we get stories that they relay or flashbacks to give us that information without taking a hit to the flow of the plot.

Plus, the series is ongoing. Who's to say we won't get an arc down the line that'll reveal a certain someone's backstory in a very important, key moment that'll make the entire wait worth it?

[lesbiansforeddiediaz]

The Diaz parents are shitty parents but they aren't shitty in an exaggerated or caricatured way. Ramon wasn't trying to make Eddie into anything specific, there wasn't an expectation of perfection, he was just trying to raise him to be a man in the way that he perceived what being a man meant. Helena was not consciously trying to make Eddie into her pseudo husband/coparent/whatever but she still put those expectations onto him. Even now with them taking Chris and alienating him from his own father they are not doing it as a deliberate way to hurt Eddie but because they have convinced themselves this is the best solution. It's awful in a way that's so difficult to come to terms with because on the surface it just looks like a genuine effort, despite the hurt and damage it caused (and is still causing). But what they are doing now (and what Helena has been doing always) requires for a genuine cruelty and callousness towards Eddie even if it isn't conscious.