#complete isolation save for those u hate :))))

[kai3057]

hey gang! just learned it’s not normal to be scared all the time :/ sounds fake imo…

[meyousing]

𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘏𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘺

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵: yandere phinks + prompt 3 "the sooner you realize that this is for your own good, the easier this will be.”

𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴: phinks liked it when you were complicit; when you listened and stayed by his side. you enjoyed freedom, you hated having to adapt to a submissive persona just to please him and keep his temper at bay. you could only continue such an act for so long before your itch to be freed became too much to bear.

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴:  sfw, yandere phinks, possessive behaviour, minor violence, isolation, mentions of past kidnapping. kinda mind games if u squint bc of the isolation?

One thing you learned very quickly when dealing with Phinks, was to walk on eggshells around him, so as to not ignite the short wick that was his temper. Time and time again, other members of the troupe would sing your praises, questioning how you managed to tame a beast such as Phinks to be so different towards you, in comparison to anyone else past who had gotten as close to him as you have now. That would incite your own need for interrogation, completely unsure of what they meant since half of the time that you were in his presence you would shake like a leaf, in a mode of constant fight or flight (though you knew any fight would be an immediate loss for you, and the mere idea of flight was laughably out of the question). Of course, your questioning couldn’t get too far. Any time another Spider got too close to you, Phinks would appear out of nowhere, shooting them a glare that spoke for itself; telling them to get lost, to leave you alone. His standard of closeness was incredibly strict, as your interactions with the others never lasted longer than a minute before greatly aggravating him. What divine timing Phinks always managed to have. These incidents happened almost every day, the severity of them never escalating to become too intense, since nobody dared to step up to him and cause a scene from a matter as trivial as asking his girl a question. 

As it would turn out, when more of these happenings occurred, and the angry look on his face escalated every day, Phinks was too late to realize that the other members would not be the problem in this situation. And maybe you should have seen this coming too, you would have been able to save yourself a lot of trouble that you really did know better about.

By the nature of the Spiders, Phinks was possessive. But you never liked being caged down. The day that you arrived here, bound and blinded by your boyfriend (you would only refer to him as such when in his presence, to appease him. But you had long since broken up with him in your mind), was the day that you were made equivalent to a childhood pet. A bird, or a hamster, who is restricted to only make decisions that are conducted or enforced by her captor. This restriction began to change you. All prey put up fights to regain their freedom whether they come out victorious or not; one must try. 

“Y/N? Y/N Y/N? God, did the guy deafen her or something, the fuck?” 

You blinked a few times, clearing your sight and mind. Glancing up with a soft blur in your vision, you could see the bouncing of broad shoulders, watching Uvogin laugh boisterously at you as he brought his hand down to a knee once he was done snapping those fingers beside your ear. 

Now, this was tricky. Perhaps you should correct your earlier ideology, most members wouldn’t dare to step up to Phinks and cause a scene from a matter as trivial as asking his girl a question. Most members, not including Uvo. He enjoyed the little conflict it would create, and if something did happen (which it likely would), this would not be the first time. You wondered if Phinks was dumb enough not to know that Uvo was talking to you on purpose, to get a rise out of him. Perhaps he did know and enjoyed that fight just as much. How lovely that they get amusement at my expense, you thought.

“Y/N, You can’t be serious. You know I’m talking to you.” Uvo’s face was falsely dumbfounded, a brow lifted with the most mocking smile across his lips. 

“I do, I know” you mumbled, voice groggy from being unused for so long, causing you to clear out your throat with a cough. Uvo let out a gruff chuckle, glancing behind his shoulder to Nobunaga with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You followed his gaze, watching as Nobu only offered a brooding blink while he fiddled with the handle of his katana. He was observing you two, appearing tired but you knew he was getting a kick out of this too. When Uvo turned back to you, your eyes were already on his, open wider than before and eager because you just wanted this to end as soon as possible. Because you knew Phinks would be back soon, and he would see this, then the same old dispute would break out and only bring you stress, making you think that you had done something wrong despite just sitting here. 

“You do know. So can you repeat what I just asked you?” Uvo’s interrogation continued, a playfully contemplative hand becoming a perch for his chin. 

Being aware of him talking to you didn’t mean that you had been listening to what he was saying. 

“I can’t, sorry” you sniffed, stifling a yawn. Your conversations with him went the same way every time; him asking you rhetorical questions that you couldn’t muster the energy to give a genuine reply to, which he was fully aware of. It seemed that he wanted it like this, not minding your lack of liveliness at all.

Before any other words could be exchanged, a new voice interjected.

“Are you really that stupid, Uvo?”

Yaaay. Phinks was back, and so soon!

“Oh no, the boyfriend is back” Uvo stood up, a theatrical hand over his heart as he spun around and leaned away from Phinks, pretending to physically be taken aback. 

“You can call me by my name, Uvogin.”

“You tryna tell me what to do?” Despite the challenging tone, even you could tell that Uvo wasn’t being serious. 

“Yea, I’ll start by telling you to stay away from Y/N. Again. How many times is that now, maybe five?”

Uvogin laughed again, louder than the time before, and more hysterically. You sighed and rubbed your temples, entirely done with these feuds. 

“Come on now, Phinks–”

“Just stop!”

Everyone was silent then. You didn’t even notice that you were standing now, hands in tight fists at your sides following the brief outburst. All of them had their eyes on you now, you could feel it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up, to face the results of such a sudden action when you were usually so docile. How you wished to rant further, to scream out your feelings about how much you hated this. Hated being here, hated these stupid scenarios every day that made it feel like you were just part of some big inside joke and served no other purpose. But you didn’t say any of that, you just stayed cemented and kept your eyes down. It felt like hours of this passed, hours of silence and stillness. 

Your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps, watching a familiar set of shoes come to a stop just in front of you. Phinks reached for your hands, taking them into his own. 

“Let’s go.”

He began guiding you out of the room, to the hall. You followed wordlessly, watching your feet as they carried you along with him, ignoring the muffled but definite chuckle that you heard and must have come from Uvo, your grip in Phinks’ hand tightening at the sound.

Once you two were a fair distance from the others, Phinks continued to walk but let go of you and sighed exasperatedly, running his hands through his hair to push it up and away from his face as he grumbled.

“I told them all so many times to stop bothering you, but nobody listens to me, and then this happens. The day that Uvo does listen, I swear…” he didn’t finish the ramble, he only shook his head and sighed; acting all fatigued and dramatically exhausted from dealing with Uvo, like a worn-out parent who finally managed to put their unruly baby to sleep once and for all. You, at the very least, had the right to feel that way as you rubbed at one of your eyelids. All Phinks did to be so tired was willingly partake in an argument that he could have chosen to avoid, whereas you had no choice but to get caught in the middle of it. If only he could tell that he was the one who was bothering you. 

You didn’t know what came over you then, the overwhelming urge to make that clear to him. Or rather, to correct him first, because if either of those two men caused you any annoyance, it certainly wasn’t Uvogin. 

“He wasn’t the one who was bothering me. He was just asking me a question.”

“Please, Y/N.” Instant dismissal. This was your first chance to back down.

 “What?”

“You know better, he was trying to get under your skin. And mine, for that matter.”

“No, he wasn’t. He was just asking me a question.” You repeated yourself. For once Phinks was right, but this annoyed you. He confirmed your earlier thoughts, that he was aware of what Uvo was doing, but chose to partake anyway. You didn’t even have time to be angry at this, because you just blew your second chance to back down.

Phinks stopped walking shortly after you spoke, and you slowed your pace when the sound of his steps was no longer. You lifted your gaze, watching him turn back with pocketed fists.

“You know just as well as me what Uvo is really doing. The same thing every day, with the same snarky smile and challenging comebacks. So, naturally, that only leaves you.”

You lifted a brow, a show of genuine confusion.

“What about me?”

“If you know that I don’t like when the other Spiders talk to you, why do you entertain them? Why don’t you leave, go to another room or something? Do you like the attention from the other members, from the other men?”

He took a step closer to you, head tilting with an ever-deepening furrow of his brows as he looked down at you.

Now he was being ridiculous. You didn’t know where the hell he was getting this from, or why he now felt the need to start another dispute with you this time, but what you did know was that it was making you angry. It became harder to stop yourself from giving in, you couldn’t just comply after an allegation like that.

 “So I’m not allowed to answer when someone asks me something, then? Wouldn’t you go ballistic if I ignored a question from you?!”

“That’s different, Y/N.”

“How?! It isn’t at all and you know it, Phinks. You’re just horribly jealous, is all.”

He was at your side in an instant, grip deathly on your jaw as he tore your head to the side so that your noses were almost touching.

“Who gave you the right to speak to me that way? What makes you think you can tell me what I am?”

Your breath simply stopped, the intense seething behind his eyes stealing any fight you had left. What happened to those fundamentals you had taught yourself, the walls you had built to remain at arm's length and not question his authority to evade that notorious temper of his? You were in too deep now, you had said too much. You couldn’t possibly fix this. He hummed aggressively, his fingers moving to your cheeks to squish them together degradingly as he awaited your response. 

Perhaps captivity had also increased your stupidity because the idea of you being too far gone only encouraged you to become worse. Your next sentence, albeit muffled by his grip, was dangerously venomous. 

“You won’t deny it because you know I’m right.”

His grip tightened so intensely that you were shocked he didn’t just pop holes in your cheeks with his fingernails. Knowing how strong he was, you had to guess that he was holding back an immense amount of his power to avoid making that thought a reality. 

“Not sure where you got this attitude from, Y/N. But you’re gonna be losing it damn soon.” He grabbed your wrist with bruising power, dragging you along with him as he began to stride quickly down the halls, weaving through and around sharp corners and ominous doors you had never seen here before since he would usually force you to stay in the same few rooms.

“Phinks,” you whimpered, feet becoming sore as you struggled to keep up with his fast pace, though his unrelenting hand forced you to whether you could or not. You were sure that if you collapsed here he would simply lug you along like a sack of potatoes, worthlessly and carelessly. 

He stopped without warning, causing you to collapse into his back when you were finally done moving. You held onto his bicep with your free hand, desperately trying to catch your breath as you took a few steps to stand at his side. He was silent for now, clearly waiting for you.

You forced yourself to stand up straighter, taking one last puff of air through your mouth before panting through your nose and focusing your eyes on what was in front of you.

A metal door. 

Scanning it up and down, you noticed how tall it was. It was a floor-to-ceiling door, the first you had ever seen. It was probably heavy and would require a fair amount of strength to get opened and closed by one person. You were curious now, you had never seen a door like this before. Why did Phinks bring you here? Allowing your eyes to wander, your chin met your shoulder as you looked behind. This door was located at the end of a very, very long hallway. With no other doors or windows in sight, and few dimly lit ceiling lights.

Isolated. 

A heavy grating sound echoed out, making you wince as you whipped back around to see Phinks pushing the door open. 

“I almost feel bad putting you through this, but you always were a defiant one. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to get you here in the first place” he chuckled, holding the door open with his foot as he turned to look at you. “How good that I did, though. Don’t you think so? It’s like you were made for me, I love a good challenge.”

You couldn’t answer before his hands found your waist, a startled sound leaving you when he pulled you closer. You didn’t like where this was going. You could see the room in your peripheral vision. It was dark, barely lit, and as far as you could see it was completely empty.

“This should put that defiance to rest. Uh…sorry though.”

He tossed you into the room with ease. He used enough force to make you land a fair distance away, enough so that when you scrambled to your feet and ran back to the door, he was able to get it closed in time to only be cracked open. You already knew you’d be unable to pry it back all the way so you didn’t even bother, hating to admit that defeat, but willing to take your last chance by talking to him face to face. 

“Phinks! What are you doing?!” You began to shiver then, suddenly aware of how it was so cold in here. You felt such a strong need to be held, to bask in the warmth that Phinks’ arms could provide. If you could just get closer to him…

You tried. And he held you back with a hand to your cheek.

“You’re more fun when you listen, Y/N. The sooner you realize that this is for your own good, the easier this will be. I’ll be back soon.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, the hand on your cheek lifting to stroke your hair. He gave you a final look, his eyes gleaming with what you thought was a hint of pity before he let the door close. You were able to see his back as he turned away from you before it closed entirely, the loud thud of it doing so sending a chill down your spine. 

He was just… leaving you here. This hideout was already a limited space for you, the few rooms he allowed you to reside in were all within walking distance of each other. The whirlwind journey that was required for you to get to this room left you unable to retrace your steps, you truly had no sense of your surroundings now. In your life before, when Phinks was simply your boyfriend who was not holding you hostage and did not kidnap you, he would leave the room if an argument started between you, isolating himself so he wouldn’t do anything irrational. Now he was forcing you to do the same.

The resolve you had gathered from your arrival here to now was long since shattered, you slumped down to your knees and rested your forehead against the door, its cool metal chilling out the warmth that was once there from Phinks’ lips. Now you could do nothing but wait. He did say he would be back soon! Maybe you could use this time to think about what you had done, to revise your reaction and fix it to prevent anything like this from happening ever again. 

A tear slipped from your eye. You were more fun when you listened, after all. If you wanted to stay away from this essential cage, you could never slip up again, you were meant to be complicit. You were captured by your predator, and a captured prey has no right to challenge its predator’s authority. 

© meyousing 2023. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 

[snickiebear]

what’s your current media object of obsession? please feel free to elaborate as enthusiastically as you need. i’m rotating friends at the table’s (ttrpg podcast) “counter/weight” season in my mind.

alternatively, what summer beverages are you most excited to consume again?

MAUSE!

okay so this isn't exactly media in the sense that other people can view/consume it, but! my friends and i have this zombie rp thing going and im kinda sorta obsessed with it and my characters HAHA

so basically, the virus is an evolved form of rabies that spread via animal and now via bite. it hit in 2010 and it's been around for ten years, there's five different stages of the disease/zombies but they're called Starving. My sister and i built up the lore and its been so fun esp since she's been playing a lot of zombie video games (TLOU I & II, Days Gone, etc)

but basically, my two characters, Griffin and Celeste, are these two kid-made-adults in this world. Griffin was eighteen when the virus hit, Celeste was five. Griffin ends up having to help his mom take out his brother and dad when they get bit and then later having to do the same to his mom when she gets bit also. It's by complete chance that Griffin runs into the men that corner Celeste and ends up saving her.

They're very Joel and Ellie coded but also not LMAO. They first get help from a survivalist/dooms day planner who takes them in, gives them all the tough love in the world, and then kicks them out with the skills and supplies they'd need to survive. Then, they end up joining a merc group (and in this world there are human camps but there isn't an overlying government or anything) for a few years and travels with these people until one of them tries to hurt Celeste and Griffin kills him.

There's, uh, a lot of violence in their backstory but they're tough cookies LMAO. Celeste is a lil pyro and is very adapt at building bombs of all kinds. Griffin is one hell of a marksman but hates guns and will use a bow and arrow whenever he can. They're literally so fun together, they've got this sibling/parent & child/best friend/partner in crime/rival bond and i love playing around with their dynamic.

My other friends have characters too, and before the actual rp starts, Griffin and Celeste end up being saved by two of the others; Phoebe and Alex, who are siblings and have been up on an isolated farm ever since the disease started to spread.

Griffin and Phoebe have SUCH A GOOD ROMANCE LMAO they're SO FUCKING FUN bc Pheobe is so so smart but also so Stupid bc she can't help but be curious about everything she hasn't seen and Griffin is grumpy and mean but HES AN ASSHOLE WITH A HEART OF GOLD which means he's. SIMP and so they argue and bicker and all that

Celeste is like this halfway between adult and child, but she's such a prankster and shit stirer and definitely corrupts Alex in the best ways bc he's this shy little thirteen year old and Celeste is always ready to rock someone's shit.

but yeah its just really fun and my friend and i have so many aus for Greebs LMAO they're also so Sterek coded (teenwolf) that its insane LMAO so immediately i started a teenwolf au and had the pleasure of giving the run down of the plot

also! summer beverage would have to be... milkshakes. i love milkshakes LMAO idk if those are really considered summer drinks but they're delicious. also, lemonade bc who doesn't like lemonade? i really love to bake and cook and stuff, so tiktok showed me this limonade thing a few weeks ago and im dying to try and make it LOL

thank u so much for dropping by mause :''''))) i rlly missed this fr

[linkspooky]

Megumi and Toji

Megumi knows almost nothing about his father, his early memories are of being abandoned. His only family is Tsumiki as far as he’s concerned. It’s clear he doesn’t regard himself as a Zenin, or Toji’s son. He doesn’t even recognize Toji when they meet again briefly. However, though Megumi’s not even aware of it there’s a lot of story parallels between father and son. Toji serves as a cautionary tale of what Megumi could become if he does not grow up and learn to handle his emotions properly. MORE UNDER THE CUT. 

1. Inherited Trauma 

I don’t know if you’ve noticed this yet, but the Zenin family definitely has issues. They exclude anything which does not fit their arbitrary standards as an outsider. We don’t really know Toji’s backstory. We don’t have to know either, it obviously doesn’t excuse his actions. However, we see the after-effects of him being thrown out and scapegoated by his own family by the time we see him in the hidden inventory arc. Not only that, but from the clan’s treatment of Maki, we can theorize a little ibt of what Toji has been through. 

Maki and Toji were both born without cursed energy and labeled as defective and wrong because of it. It’s clear both of them developed bad, hostile, even downright violent personalities in order to cope with a home environment that was constantly hostile to them. 

In Maki’s case, it’s not that Maki is a hateful person it’s that she’s conditioned not to accept any kind of love because she was never shown the unconditional love of a family she was owed. When Yuta tries to accept her, Maki rejects him because she doesn’t know what that feeling of acceptance and security is like if it’s unearned. She ties it to strength, she has to be stronger than the Zenin clan, she has to prove she’s better than them and that they were wrong about her in order to earn it. 

Maki is so busy trying to reject everything that the Zenin clan stands for, that she can’t really accept other people’s feelings at all positive or negative. She’s too busy thinking about herself, protecting about herself, trying not to hate herself that even the feelings of Mai who loves her, but in a more complicated way is something she can’t accept. She doesn’t want to think about mai’s feelings because she’s too busy with her own, Mai is an afterthought to her. 

Maki has a complicated way of dealing with the abuse of the Zenin family, and I assume Toji did too. The only difference is that Toji is an adult, whereas Maki is still an adolescent. Toji was set in his ways, Maki is still in the middle of changing. 

Toji is labeled as “the one who is left behind, the one who is free”, it’s very likely especially considering the way he treats Megumi and distances himself from anyone related to him, that Toji’s way of dealing with the Zenin family was to simply reject all of it. He couldn’t accept the hatred of his family, but at the same time he also couldn’t accept any kind of positive emotions too, like love between a father and son. It’s likely Toji can’t even accept the idea of having a family, or the unconditional love of a family because he’s never had it - not that any of that is Megumi’s fault.

 Toji grew up completely isolated from his own family until he was eventually thrown out, and he probably had no idea how to raise a family, but he turned around and inflicted those same circumstances on Megumi. Toji grows up alone, Toji makes Megumi grow up alone because he fails to provide for him as a father. 

Toji deliberately made a choice to throw out Megumi along with the rest of his family trauma, that’s his self reflection upon the moment of death. He wanted to throw away everything and live for hismelf, but he threw away Megumi too. 

However, from Meugmi’s perspective his father gave him the name ‘Megumi’ and left. Apparently Toji was around so little that Megumi doesn’t even recognize his face whent hey meet again as a teenager. He married Tusmiki’s mom, got a divorce, and presumably left Megumi there. 

Megumi grew up with no idea of what a family was, except for his step sister, and also completely isolated from others. He grew up with the same sense of isolation and distance from his family that Toji did, lacking totally in the unconditional love a child needs from his parents in order to grow up, because Toji was never even around for Megumi. Megumi just by default assumes that his father either didn’t love him, or just plain forgot about him. 

2. Like Father, Like Son.

However, despite the fact Toji wasn’t even around to raise his son, Megumi turned out a lot like Toji. There’s a lot of parallels between father and son, probably because as stated above Megumi grew up in isolated circumstances, completely cut off, never truly receiving the parental love or guidance that he needed to help him mature into a emotionally healthy adolescent able to process his feelings and handle them properly. 

Both Megumi and Toji respond to their emotional trauma in the same way, by suppressing themselves and all their feelings, and rejecting the feelings of everyone around him. Megumi isn’t even able to hear the news that his dad died, because he insists that already in first grade, he doesn’t care about his dad or even want him around. 

This is you know, a lie of course. Megumi’s a first grader. All children want a parent. It’s just, Megumi’s way of dealing with his feelings is to just pretend that they’re not there, to pretend he doesn’t care. A first grader is not really mature enough to think of his family situation in these terms, or cope with these feelings. Megumi is simply pretending to be mature as a way of pretending to deal with his hurt feelings. 

We as the audience know that Megumi is a deeply caring, and deeply feeling person. However, Megumi himself seesm to be in denial of this fact. 

Megumi’s response to all of thes icky gross feelings he has for people, soft feelings that makes him feel vulnerable because while Megumi cares deeply, circumstances have taught him that people do not care about him, or at least Toji didn’t care enough in Megumi’s eyes to stick around. Megumi’s response is the same as Toji’s, he shuts everyone out, he insists he doesn’t care about anyone. 

He can’t accept anyone’s feelings because he’s too busy rejecting everyone. He can’t even accept the positive feelings of familial love his sister has for him, he almost begrudges her for it. Tsumiki chose to see him as family, different from Toji who he feels didn’t choose him and Megumi just couldn’t realize that until it was too late. He’s so used to being abandoned and unchosen that he doesn’t know what familial love even looks like in Tsumiki. 

This is also something that Toji does to Megumi. It’s said in a bonus in volume 8 or volume 9 that after the death of Megumi’s mother, Toji insisted that he “stopped caring about everything.” We see this repeat when he’s about to sell Megumi to the Zenin clan. 

Toji insists he doesn’t care, while Megumi tries to creep back into his thoughts, and he keeps trying to help him in indirect ways. Toji wishing for a better future for his son than he had, while at the same time, selling him off for the money he plans to gamble away at the race track. Toji forgetting his son’s name, and then remembering it on the brink of death and asking his enemy to do something about it. These are all compeltely contradictory behaviors because Toji has no healthy, adult way of processing his emotions. 

He’s just used to pretending he doesn’t care about things, that even when he obviously does care it’s what he keeps falling back on. It’s the same as Megumi’s complex with saving people, he insists he hates people, that he doesn’t want to save them, and then he goes far out of his way to save people like Yuji. 

3. Growing Out of Your Father’s Shadow

They process emotions the same way, both insisting that they don’t care about anything around them, the only real difference is their priorities. Toji is a self centered person who prioritizes himself above all others. Megumi’s a self sacrificing person, he’s continually belittling himself for the sake of other people. Megumi belittles himself to the point where he insits he could never be strong enough to challenge Gojo. Being the strongest individual is just never his priority. 

Toji however is someone who climbed to the top of the Jujutsu World to try to prove he could become a better fighter than them without any cursed energy. Megumi is someone who ran away from the challenge of becoming stronger than Gojo, but Toji wanted to prove himself stronger than Gojo so badly he stayed and fought a fight he knew he couldn’t win. 

However, even though their priorities are total opposites, Toji prioritizing himself, and Megumi prioritizing other people above himself they both end up in the same place. They’re both incredibly self destructive people. Toji stayed and fought with Gojo, knowing that he would die. When Megumi is pushed to his limit in Shibuya, rather than try to run away he also sacrifices himself in order to summon Mahoraga in a suicidal move against his opponent. They are even paralleled in the way they’re drawn. 

I think the takeaway from all these connections set up between Toji and Megumi is that even though Megumi doesn’t know his father well he’s a lot like him. They both handle their emotions in the same way, insisting that they don’t care when they in fact care deeply. They both repress all of their emotions until they go crazy from it. 

Toji literally springs from Megumi’s shadow. The shadow is the symbol of repressed emotions. Emotions that people are conscious of, the ones they acknowledge are usually represented by light, deeper emotions, the ones they repress and refuse to acknowledge are then referred to as the shadow. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. The more Megumi pretends not to care about his father or his family situation, the deeper the shadow underneath his feet grows. 

Being underneath your father’s shadow is even a common phrase used to describe people who are unable to escape from their parents, and become their own person. There is a connection between Megumi and his father between Megumi and the Zenin, even if Megumi likes to pretend it’s not there, like when he denies any similarity between himself and Kamo Noritoshi.

 A lot of Megumi’s life is dictated by his family circumstances too, he’s just in denial about it. Kamo’s aware to sympathize with people because he’s far more aware fo himself and his family circumstances, Megumi denies sympathizing with other people, because he doesn’t have any sympathy for himself either. 

Zombie Megumi is colored in pure shadow. He’s even referred to as a manifestation of the repressed feelings of the Zenin clan. Those who are restrained by their connection to the Zenin clan, all look in awe at the one who broke free from the Zenin, and free from everything. 

Megumi exhibits the act same behavir as Toji. He suppresses himself, suppresses himself, and suprresses himself and then he just goes crazy. Megumi claims he’s not the strongest, he doesn’t care about being strong, but then he pulls moves like summoning the Mahoraga and Domain Expansion. Megumi just holds himself in until he violently lashes out on everything around him too, he’s hurt feelings waiting to explode. 

Which is why Megumi learning more about his father and the connection between them could be a good thing, not because Megumi necessarily owes Toji anything, but that he could learn from Toji’s mistakes. When Megumi sees his own unhealthy behavior exhibited in another, he can learn to accept the things that Toji could not accept. He could learn to accept connections like family, and friednship, before they become chains that hold him down too hard, until he breaks everything and himself trying to be free. Megumi dosen’t have to become the strongest like Gojo, he doesn’t have to surpass or fight against the Zenin clan. He doesn’t have to save everyone in the whole world like Yuji. The best thing for Megumi’s character development would be for him to learn to accept his own feelings and the feelings of others without going crazy. That’s a strength that neither Toji, nor Gojo could never find in themselves. 

[ketchupkio]

I saw First and came running please talk about him king

I JUST SAID I COULDN'T TALK ABOUT HIM???? BXFBSXFNZNS but luckily for u anon I need precisely one (1) prod to talk about anything bc I can't shut my big fucking mouth

First.... Mmmmmmm. Himb. This man. This enigma. He's equally frustrating as he is delightful. A lot of ppl hc First as this Super Serious character but like consider.

He's a himbo. He's a bastard. He's super sweet. He'd kill anything that touches his loved ones. He's isolated. He loves with his whole heart. His wife and friends are the most important thing to ever happen to him. He's the liveliest fucker you'll ever meet. He's chaotic. He's charming and a very good flirt. He blushes at any reciprocation of feelings bc him??? Desirable?? They must be joking (they're not). He's a family man. He doesn't know what family is. He's a knight. He hates the military. He was ostracized by his own people. He fought so hard to protect them. He's the start of the unbreakable Hero's Spirit. He got one-shotted by Demise. Ghirahim tried to kill him several times. Hylia was in love with him (but was she really?). He hates Hylia with a burning passion for what she did to him and the rest of the heroes. None of the heroes are his reincarnation. He knows they all hold a piece of him with the Hero's Spirit and can tell when it awakened in them. He's my fucking BLORBO OKAY??????

Some questions for you to think about, anon.

We all saw Demise murder him dead. We saw that wound. We know he died in Hylia's barbie doll arms. But did he really? He was meant to. But what if he didn't? What repercussions would that have for First? If we didn't kill him off there, why didn't he die? Who saved him?

Because. Consider. That ending with the hero tragically dying, that was dramatic and all. But what purpose did that serve? The start of the hero cycle and what Hylia called them being reborn, of course, but like. What if she lied to him? Why didn't she save him if she truly loved him? She's a fucking goddess. Why would she have just Let Him Die if he didn't complete the role she wanted him to fulfill? What if she lied to him about that? Was he just a piece in her game between herself and Demise? First's death was disposing of a pawn that didn't serve her anymore, a toy that had been broken-- not beyond fixing because she's a GODDESS-- but she didn't deem it worth the effort since she no longer wanted to play with him.

What if. He got to have his meaningful legacy. Not for very long, but what he so desperately needed after being ostracized and imprisoned and used was to feel wanted. He was supposed to have died, and extra time comes at a price, but to him, no price is too great for more days spent with his loved ones. People who actually loved him, not the paltry, brief fixation that Hylia called love. "Gentle spirit." Bullshit. What part about the Hero's Spirit is gentle? That spirit is driven, it's passionate, and hardy and brave and stubborn and loyal and, yes, it's kind too, but gentle is not the culmination of those words. That spirit goes down kicking and screaming through trials and anguish and every single fairy revive and game over.

So what if First was allowed another shot for a limited time? What would he do then? I wonder, anon. I wonder.

[kachuuyaa]

— ELYSIAN’S FUGITIVES.

06072021 ; g.i oneshot , gn!reader , bsd!reader

genre ; angsty fluff ig i dunno???

includes ; WISP!CHUUYA MAKES HIS APPEARANCE :D mentions of death, gore, gods, chuuya being cute (He Squeaks!) chuuya and reader meant to be REAL, literally just a first meeting between aether n you Italics is Japanese

synopsis ; The punishment from the gods is to be sent to Elysian, then banished into a never-ending cycle of paranoia.

author's notes ; U FINALLY MEET AETHER. wisp!chuuya is the best thing I have ever written ever I was mentally squealing because oh my oiguoidsp[';][][21P]2;\.,sdmNXK

You couldn’t count the days you have roamed Teyvat, it has been too long since then. For 60 years (it was 60 years, wasn’t it? You don’t remember anymore), you have not crossed any country’s border, only listening to their seemingly endless musings. You have never been out in the sea, tensity and uneasiness forming in the pit of your stomach whenever so. However, being isolated from the land the gods rule upon, has earned you a title. Your name is being whispered as a warning or a legend like a scripture formed with the wind. Some were afraid of you, while some respected you. It was pathetic, really, how desperate these people were compared to those in Yokohama. There was no point in dwelling in the past, now, was there? Despite receiving unwanted attention by passersby, you paid no attention to those who whispered your name like a mantra, spouting vile, vulgar assumptions about you. You realized-- quickly-- that they only think for themselves, not for the benefit of others. Wouldn’t that be the source of their demise? Well, you don’t linger on trivial topics for too long, it’s only fair for you to care only about yourself in a world you don’t belong in (you know you belong here now, yet you felt as if Elysian was better than this place they call home).

You have heard of the outlander who caught the wind, saving a foreign nation he seemed to have been in once, only, and you have let the news flow from one ear to another. Who were you to care? No one should catch your attention in a world full of insatiable people. Each step made the grass crunch, making your way to the foot of Dragonspine. Chuuya followed suit, and he settled himself on your head. You figured out that he could shapeshift, probably his punishment as well, yet so far, he has only shifted into a bird and a wisp. His wisp form wasn’t as elegant as you may think, a small, hooded figure encased in smoke-colored clothing, resembling the coat he used to wear. On top, there was a small black X-shaped symbol in the middle of his chest. Around his small form were orange particles, that remind you vividly of Chuuya's ability. A little hat, one you were familiar with, was situated on top of his small head. It was the hat he was wearing during his time as a mafioso, you deduced as such. The tiny creature lets out small squeaks of content, nuzzling itself on your head; seems like he thought it was a good pillow. A chuckle of amusement escapes your lips, turning your head around to watch the scenery in front of you. Dragonspine was one of your favorite places to visit during your free time, snow piling on top of another, making the white mountain as beautiful as it is. However, you do not venture into Dragonspine, not wanting to risk your life for creatures who seem to always take your time.

As much as you hate to admit it, you have most likely killed more hilichurls than you ever killed back in Yokohama. The songs of relentless, snow-covered winds never fail to make your unease and worry falter, even for a moment. The glacial scenery of the mountain attracted your attention, especially your first visit here. A few snowflakes settled themselves on your face, melting due to the heat emitting from your body. If you had the chance, should you tell your friends about the scenery, they would love it too, wouldn't they? You know they would, however, how would you know so? They’re gone, and so is your attachment to anything but Chuuya. “Do you like the scenery, Chuchu?” soft taps on your head were his response, indicating that he was displeased with the nickname you gave him. He agreed nonetheless, sitting on the palm of your hand. He squirmed, looking for a more comfortable position, and stilled after a while.

Memories of the past have always plagued your mind, reminding you that you were alone, again. Despite the copious memories you have stored away, none will bring you back to the place you have regarded as your home. For once, you have felt safe, all the while knowing death follows you wherever you go. Death was the dark, hollow cloak you wore while walking the path of dread in your past life, hands coated with the blood of another, and your eyes held the burden you were forced to carry until the day you died. The amount of blood was enough to shatter the dreams children told you to believe in, you were holding on the thinnest thread, one soaked with blood, your blood, reminding you how much you have suffered and how you made others weak, on their knees, while keeping a straight face as you watch the life draining from their faces. You have learned that life was unfair, gods turning a blind eye to the generation you were put in, leading the people to be self-reliant, causing resentment and disrespect to be aimed at those who call themselves “gods”.

Did they even exist? You have heard, and read, tell of what the gods and goddesses have done to provide, to give, and to sacrifice. Did they give up? Were they satisfied with what they have gotten? Has their insatiable lust for approval and desire to fulfill their selfish, carnal desires quenched? Did they only long for what they have desired, using their power to prove themselves better among the world of mortals? Were they not the selfless, kind gods described in the books of old? Nevertheless, you had no respect for the divine. You only had yourself to depend on since the start. You controlled your own death, knowing that when you died, it was time. You could have stopped yourself from fading, though, but you were tired, you let it happen. And though you know that your death will be remembered, not in the history books, but in the Port Mafia, you will be forever remembered.

59 years have passed. There is no time to dwell in the past, all you have is the memories you swear to protect. Your fight with immortality has been futile, leaving you to bask in your own presence for 59 years. That is until Chuuya finally found you. And you? You found him. It wasn’t expected for you to know who he was, a mere spirit cursed by gods above to wander a world he was unfamiliar with. He was stripped of Arahabaki, leaving him with only his outermost ability, “For The Tainted Sorrow”. He didn’t mind, as well, Arahabaki resides within him, giving him a sense of dread, and leaving him with his identity that he can’t seem to solve. Arahabaki has forever stained him as blood stained your hands, giving him scars that will never leave him. In that life, and in the next. He had you, sweet, malevolent, outstanding you. Though he never voiced it out, he felt, well, complete, to say the least. And while feeling detached from not being completely human has affected him far too much, you were there to make him feel-- what did you make him feel, really? He can’t decipher his own feelings as his own identity. In all the years he has roamed this world as an insignificant wisp of the wind, he found himself tangled in another adventure with the “most insufferable partner aside from Dazai”.

Your footsteps were carried by the wind, walking to the City of Mondstadt, again, Chuuya on your shoulder, scanning the area for any enemies or the like. You were currently looking for food, choosing to shop in Mondstadt instead of catching wildlife. Each step has your coat moving from one side to another, boots making the grass crunch in every step. “Ne, Chuuya, do you want to buy pancakes from Mond?” you whispered, voice soft, only for Chuuya to hear. Said wisp only nods its small head, his little hood moving ever so slightly while he nods. Deciding that it would be best for him to rest, you put him in your breast pocket, his little head poking just a bit. Chuuya softly squeaked, nuzzling on the fabric, and opted to rest despite his unsaid protests. But before you could set foot onto the City Of Freedom, a high-pitched voice prevented you from doing so. “Hey!” they said, you whipped your head to the direction you heard it from, spotting a seemingly young-looking traveler, and a floating pixie-- wait.

Isn’t he the honorary knight? You thought to yourself, unconsciously cupping the pocket Chuuya resides in, feeling him squirm when he came in contact with your gloved palm. Instead of giving them a response, you simply stared at them, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Hi.” a simple, short greeting. Although you would prefer to ask the traveler some questions, that wouldn’t be necessary. You were able to decipher every detail easily, too easily, in fact. Aether, however, wasn’t fazed. He was well aware of how they described you, and how notorious you were due to appearance. Scoffing at the assumptions, he looked forward to meeting you. Perhaps he will look forward to his endeavors with you by his side, no? A star sent from Elysian would only brighten the mortal world, cursed with divine power and lonesome memories.

However, you did not know that a simple greeting exchanged on your first day of the meeting would bloom into something much more.

Ah, it seems that the show is starting once again, a different chapter, a different genre.

2021 © kachuuyaa. all rights reserved. do not steal and claim my work as your own.

[istherewifiinhell]

reading process: chapter 196 (damn)

reading highlights: now with new and improved features

178 Yjh hesitating to fast ball special this weird little dude: pls dont die. kdj: look at me. bitch

179 Gah. can an author make a story so big even their monster cant eat it

180 I knew the 4th wall was gonna eat but i forgot IT HAS TEETH

shaking the no no can at 4th wall

gah okay yeah jesus lee sookyung [song accompaniment love run by the amazing devil]

the narrative will make you apart of it (threat)

181 '4th wall also isolated me from myself' DING DING DING

overall evaluation ⬛⬛... -> mood

gonna twach the sentient dangerous trauma response some... morals? interpersonal skills?

↳cant handle direct interaction, eats and sleeps. yea

↳im gonna take a nap right here

LJH: arent you and kdj.... yjh grimacing as being ask about his love life by his teenage ward

kdj funeral -> song accompaniment welly boots by the amazing devil (just because I left doesnt mean I'm not still there)

YJH sponsor -> praying for his fate eh?

182 [sponsors lhs 100 head pats]

SYS is literally your daughter 🥺. kdj dad who hates dads moment

183 lhs wants to be on kdj team :((((

I WOULD LIKE TO SEE LHS IN THE DRESS

(did hades make it??)

184 feeling differently after talking to 4th wall yeah pretty sure you had a break thru about dissociating there

yjh: looking with eyes not seen in TWOS -> kdj facial expression blindness trutherism

185 YJH: cause you know me sooo well kdj: starting to think i dont know this you that well

yjh thoughts: there have never been so many ppl who made it to here

"continue to live kim dokja now you have to save this world"

kdj u cant take your own medicine (yjh scheming)

LSK contemplating abt what shit is up with her son

Something lives IN THE WALL

186 other people feel pain with no wall. YES!

"I told him there is no such development [yjh death] in the ending i want"

'yjh desperate face' thats crushing to even read

187 hsy type cast as murder friend sorry bestie

god some classic kdj asshole moments -> guilting lhs and everything

"see the sight of a bearish man weeping" i would like to

jhw T.T oh my murder woman

188 making sys and lgy do this. your KIDS! -> generational Something or other

kdj to yjh: you cant change whats already happened -> this may be an unauthorized use of radical acceptance

your stigma is Literally self sacrifice based... DUDE

get killed by the narrative. your loved ones but also the story... for the story. AH

yjh im so sorry... this is devasting

Uriel... lol shes sweet ig

Demon king of salvation. so juicy (unionize hell lol)

189 LHS LGY YJH boy grief party

yjh widower era

min jiwon and han donghoon! yay

yoohan bonding?

190 Bihyung aw!

[I will pull all of you down from that fucking heaven]

191 a soul can't belong to anyone!

"I will destroy the world of the fucking dokkaebis"

192 ur still a jerk kdj. drama kid

193 yeah fuck the state jhw

do they all share a house 🥺

LHS is back with the army... okay putting a pin in that

yjh stayed in his room like a broken person... bruh

jhw was a bartender? did i know that? it makes so much sense tho

kdj ur story is told bc they love you!!

194 idk i was the only person reading this 1000 chapter work and when i left a comment some stuff changed

syswitz industrial complex... run that by me one more time

damn human life is just like hell, ive been saying this

195 demon trains? i know all about those

complete ur scheme. say somthing cool. pass out. kdj ur self parody at this point

rotation: recency bias is a hell of a thing. i want to partially tie up the parenting stuff with noting how often the constellation incarnation relationship was considered parental, how kdj views them (and indeed how weve seen quite a few be) really cruel, or exploitative, and well thats fitting for him to see that as parental isnt it. but then also. he has kids in his own care, and one is literally his incarnation. frankly im interested in both how attacking and dethroning gods is gonna impact his own godhood deal, his own parenting, and his view of his mothers job of parenting him

im not sure if i have any particular takes here but let it be know kdj is a bastard and a scoundrel and i shall not miss him. not from this distance. no but god that was a classic really jerk move level manipulation. need to re-calibrate the dials. whats worse is at this point i think he can fully understand how much emotional damage hes putting his loved ones through.

Also did you know we live in a society. this one is pretty nascent so far but the breaking of the Seoul dome is reminding us of normal human society, and its flaws, and with the demonic realm, blatantly stated, we live in hell on earth.

[txdoroki]

can you do an angst with bakugou when he finds out you're suicidal/hate yourself 🧍‍♀️ sorry thats just the mood for tn LMAOOO i love u :P

omg yes yes yes yes yes

sorry this took so long it got buried and i forgot about it HAHAHA love uuu

TW: SUICIDAL IDEATION, NEGATIVE SELF TALK, 

no ignoring the tw please! if it’ll hurt you, don’t read it! safety first!

words: 710

you clutched at your legs that were tightly held against your chest, crying on the floor of your cramped bathroom. the thoughts about just. everything, clouded your mind, willing you into a cave of complete social isolation and sadness. honestly, not even sadness at this point. 

more..

 numbness.

you just wanted the thoughts gone, you wanted them to buzz off and let you just live one fucking good day. but no. they wouldn’t be quiet, wouldn’t give you the one thing you craved-- peace.

you’re such a bad person. that person texted you multiple times and you didn’t respond?? pathetic. you’re terrible..

honestly, you didn’t even know who had fed those kinds of thoughts into your head in the first place, you only knew that they had stuck years ago, and were still consistent in ruining your mood constantly.

this was the first time you’d cried in months, usually you were so numb and filled to the brim with apathy, but right now it felt like your entire body was overflown with grief. pure grief.

grief over what? you’re sad over nothing, the thoughts drilled into your mind, taking up all of your attention to try and dispel them. to get them to shut up.

what didn’t grab your attention was the pounding of a fist five minutes ago on your dormroom door, or the blonde boy that was standing in your doorway.

“y/n?” a grumbly voice startled you from your haze of grief and sadness. you looked up from the floor, and your stomach dropped. your boyfriend was standing in the doorway, “y/n, what the hell’s going on?” 

you went to wipe the tears from your face, trying to save the smallest amount of dignity you had left. when you got up to splash your face with water, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the bathroom and onto your bed.

“tell me everything, now,”

“oh, baby, there isn’t anything to talk about,” you tried to pretend that your voice wasn’t cracking and your lip wasn’t quivering as you smiled at him, “i’m a-okay”

“oh hush, we both know you’re lying, now, tell me,” he ran his hand through his hair to try and relieve some of the worry that was growing inside of him, but it didn’t do shit.

you told him everything you were going through, his gaze boring into you with an emotion you couldn’t tell. it’d taken quite a few minutes, and was rather difficult. to voice all of the dark thoughts and feelings to someone you were supposed to make happy? it was so hard for you.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he whispered, pulling you to his chest.

“i-i didn’t wanna be a bur...burden” you sniffled, hoping your tears weren’t soaking into his shirt, or at least noticeably.

“you’d never be a burden, dumbass,” he brushed his fingers up against your back, appreciating that you opened up to him, “i’d rather you talk to me about how you feel than you fucking leaving me behind and i have to go to your goddamn funeral.”

“i-i’m sorry,” you wrapped your arms around him, fearing he’d say you were crazy. a drama queen.  that he didn’t love you.

“you haven’t done anything wrong, hon,” he held your head with one of his hands, “thank you for telling me, i love you, dummy. you’re so fucking strong, but you don’t always need to be, okay? i can be strong for you, you can lean on me for support, promise,”

you started sobbing into his chest, the words that flew from his mouth were exactly what you needed. it meant 10x more when he was the one who said it, you trusted he was telling the truth. 

he won’t leave you. you’ve got support, you don’t have to lie anymore.

“i love you too, ‘suki,” you sighed, enjoying the warmth that his affection sent through your body, “i still get butterflies when we hang out sometimes,”

he chuckled, “you fuckin nerd,” when you whined he cut the complaints off with, “my fuckin nerd, you aren’t getting leaving me anytime soon, not if i can do shit about it,” you giggled at the last part, some of the grief in you lifting as time went on.

[the-storming-sea]

an all might ramble: a lot more under the ‘read more’

All Might in general is such a tragic character. He has very few friends, barely has any family, and he hasn’t done anything really to warrant the treatment he gets in the story other than doing the wrong thing accidentally and caring too much about it. And he’s been alone for years. He doesn’t even get any gratification out of being the symbol of peace either because he’d always plan on helping people regardless of whether he was #1 or not, and being the symbol of peace isolates him from his own peers whether he likes it or not.

Never has he done anything with completely malicious intent. Everything he’s ever done, like Izuku, has been for the good of the people he cares about and the good of people as a whole. He takes up the Symbol of Peace nonsense not because he wants praise, but he wanted to be a figurehead for people to look to for hope. He tells Midoriya he can’t be a hero not because he’s secretly ableist against quirkless people, but he’s been there and as someone who’s been in the business for 30+ years he knows that it’s close to/near impossible for someone quirkless to become a hero. He pushes people away because he wants to save them from the tragedy that IS him, and the tragedy that befell his master – the death and separation of her loved ones. It’s selfish, yes, but it’s selfish in a way that’s it’s hard to fault him of. He cares. It’s hard to get angry at someone who cares.

Yagi and Izuku are their own people, of course, but I fully believe that Yagi is someone Izuku could have been if Yagi had real friends, real connections to reach out to and grab to for help. There are very few people in Yagi’s life, and one of them cut him off when he needed it the most despite Yagi’s own reservations (Nighteye) and the other one became a villain to try and salvage what was left (David). Furthermore, Yagi’s reached out to other people three times in the series (literally and metaphorically), and two of those times he’s been denied that connection (Nana and Izuku, who are arguably the closest to him in his heart). The only person who’s fully seen his plight is Aizawa, during their connection on the bench, and Aizawa’s the only person who’s managed to properly comfort Yagi

i guess what really irks me about Yagi criticism is that he’s criticized of things he can’t control, or things he’s done for genuinely good reasons that ended up harming other people. His childhood dream of becoming someone who people could rely on ended up crashing and burning because he ended up becoming too reliant and AFO attacked when no one could rely on him anymore. He trained Izuku to the best of his ability for ten months, and Izuku ended up still breaking his bones because All Might stored all that power for 40 years, and that’s simply too much to put on any person, let alone a child. Hell, he probably figured that Izuku could handle it bc at one point Yagi was the quirkless fourteen year old given the power, and he didn’t break any bones! The tragedy of it all is that All Might knows he could handle the stress, knows he could lead this charge against AFO, but he can’t, because he’s too weak, and now this pressure is all on Izuku. He was the fourteen year old quirkless boy at one point who got a power from a hero, but he failed. And now the next formerly quirkless boy is up against a power he could have defeated, and he can’t do anything about it. 

And finally, a more selfish part of me wants to say it so u can ignore this part if u wanna, but if Yagi was 20-30 yrs old and hotter you’d all love him more. I’m just saying, but if you like the concept of a friendless dad figure who only wants to help people but keeps pushing people away because they have attachment issues, but you don’t like Yagi, you just hate the fact that he’s old and you have issues where adults have let you down and you’ve decided to apply that idea to every adult character that you know of up to a certain age. That’s just it. 

[gaylotusthatexists]

what about 'hidden scar' with virgil, maybe from a time before he was accepted where he saved the light sides in the mindscape without them knowing and they only just find out now? thank you so much if u do this! :)

hidden past

fandom: sanders sides

pairing: platonic moxiety

prompt: hidden scar

trigger warnings: unsympathetic janus and remus, injury mention, blood mention, crying

word count: 2293

a/n: this is written for the @badthingshappenbingo! this was very fun for me to write honestly, i hope that y’all enjoy~ 

ao3

Virgil stared at himself in the mirror, running his fingers across the scars covering his face. They were worse than usual on that day - usually they weren't so visible, easily covered up by a bit of foundation plus his signature black eyeshadow to cover up the worse bits, around his eyes. But he'd been thinking a lot recently, about back then, and about his place now, and... well, he remembered a lot more about that night, about how-

He didn't want to think about it. Patton had called him down for breakfast five minutes ago, he didn't have time to be thinking about it. He began to apply his foundation again, like he did everyday, and soon got to work on his usual eyeshadow, making it a little darker to make sure the scar was completely covered up. He didn't want Patton to see him like this and freak out. He didn't want to be asked if anything was wrong, or about how he got the scar. He didn't want to risk Patton changing his opinion of Virgil, growing scared of him, sending him right back to where he 'belonged', where he came from.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Virgil nearly jumped out of his own skin.

"You okay, kiddo?" the voice on the other side asked. "You've been in there a while. Your eggs are getting cold."

Virgil breathed in. It was just Patton. How long had he been in the bathroom now? It usually took him ten, fifteen minutes to do his makeup fully, but he was trying some else today to really cover up those scars, and he'd spent a while just staring at himself, trying to calm his nerves before even starting the makeup. He breathed in again. All of this shouldn't be too difficult to explain to Patton. Patton probably wouldn't even ask.

"Kiddo?" Patton said again, and Virgil inwardly cringed for taking so long to think of a reply.

"I'll be out in a moment, Pat," he called, desperately dabbing more foundation onto his skin. It wasn't working - the scars were still visible. A little hidden, and probably invisible if you didn't know they were there, but Virgil didn't want to risk it, couldn't risk it. He could feel himself tearing up now, which didn't help at all, because if he cried properly the makeup would be ruined and the scars would be on full show.

"Alright," Patton said, sounding a little skeptical, "just hurry up, Roman's getting impatient."

Virgil breathed in and out a few times, trying to push his emotions down and pretend that everything was fine. He looked at himself one more time in the mirror. The scars were... mostly hidden. Perhaps visible under certain lights, but as long as the others wouldn't look too closely, things would be fine. He would be fine. He quickly ruffled his hair, fixing his bangs, before packing away his makeup and stepping out the bathroom. Roman immediately rushed past him, locking the bathroom behind him, whilst Virgil slowly make his way down to the kitchen, where Patton was waiting.

"Oh, did you do something new with your makeup?" Patton asked, as he placed a plate in front of Virgil.

After taking a few bites (mostly to delay his response to Patton for as long as possible, he cleared his throat. "Yup. Thought, uh, thought that maybe it'd look cool. I don't know." What he'd really done was add a few lines running down his face, to cover up some of the more prominent scars, but Patton didn't need to know that. "It's not too much, is it?"

"Oh, of course not, kiddo!" Patton exclaimed, sitting down opposite Virgil and beginning to eat breakfast himself. "It looks super cool!"

Virgil gave him a small smile. "Thanks." He turned back to his food. Flashes of that night circled his mind again, and suddenly he didn't have much of an appetite. He pushed his plate away.

Patton frowned. "Are they too cold? I can heat them up for you if you want, or make another plate-"

"No, Pat, it's fine," Virgil said. "Just... not really feeling that hungry."

That didn't seem to make Patton feel any better. "You still need to eat, kiddo! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day-"

"Nah, don't worry Pat, I'll be okay." Virgil stood up. "I can eat at lunch, alright?"

"Alright." Patton shuffled in his seat. "Well, uh, I'm heading down to the market in the Imagination later, you could come with me if you-"

"No thanks, Pat," Virgil said, perhaps a little too harshly.

He hated how blunt he was being, and especially hated the fact that under any other circumstances, Virgil would have gladly accept Patton's offer, which meant that now Patton would definitely know that something was wrong, and he might end up questioning Virgil, and then Virgil would have to explain, and that old wound would be opened up even more, and oh God he could feel himself starting to cry again-

"I'm just gonna head back up to my room," Virgil said, trying to remain as calm as possible, "but I'll see you later, yeah?"

Patton nodded. "Yeah, okay, of course. I'll come check on you before I leave, if you want, just in case you change your mind."

Please don't. "Okay. See you."

He left the kitchen and made his way back up to him room, collapsing onto his bed. It wasn't until his door was closed and he could no longer hear footsteps in the rooms around him that he allowed his tears to pour out, falling onto his pillow. He thought that all of that stuff was behind him, but...

He'd been trying to protect them. The light sides still weren't his friends, not really, but at least if he was there to 'torment' them, he could prevent the others from hurting them even more. Deceit wasn't so bad, Virgil supposed, and Remus was fine sometimes, or would be fine if- if he didn't feel the need to take control.

He couldn't remember which one of them had done this to him. Perhaps it had been all three, each getting their fair share. Virgil had only dared to speak up. The light sides weren't that bad, if they would just drop their act for a while the light sides would probably listen, they would all be able to help Thomas. But he supposed the others didn't want to help, not as much as he did.

Perhaps Virgil was going soft. That's what Deceit always told him. He cared too much about the light sides, about people who didn't give a damn about him. And he wasn't doing anything to help with the 'master plan'. Deceit always accused him of fraternising with the enemy, always implied that Virgil was one of them. He wasn't, of course. At the time, his loyalty would always lie with the dark sides. Not so much anymore, after everything they had put him through, but... In any case, Virgil always wanted to do what was best for Thomas, and if that meant he had to act like a light side, then he would. If it meant he'd have to keep the light sides from getting hurt, he'd protect them at all costs.

So when he had declared it was time for him to step in, of course Virgil had protested. Of course he'd told him to stop, to leave the light sides alone. And of course he had accused Virgil was being one of them - and he wasn't one of them, they all still hated him, but he still felt the need to protect them - but of course when Virgil tried to explain, he had just lashed out. And of course he had called Deceit and Remus, as well, and...

He didn't like to think about it. Didn't like to think about how they'd attempted to hold him back, how he'd screamed and screamed for them to stop, to listen to him. They were supposed to be his friends, his family, and they...

He still remembered the next morning, waking up in the light side's domain just before sunrise, with a banging headache and a soaring pain over his whole face. He remembered rushing to the bathroom and crying when he saw all the cuts across his skin, the black eye and the bruising on his cheek, the blood dripping down his face. He'd cleaned up as best he could, hid away from the others for a few days, a few weeks, maybe even a few months - time had been weird, in that period, hiding from the light sides and being unable to return to the dark sides, placing himself in complete isolation - until he began to look like his normal self again, just... not quite the same. The swelling and the bruising went down, and the bleeding soon stopped, but the scars never faded. And neither did that awful feeling, the constant reminder that he wasn't welcome with the people he'd previously considered to be his closest friends, his only friends.

So he hid the scars. For years and years, every morning he'd have to apply that same makeup, under the guise that he was just doing it to be edgy, and he'd sit through the light sides insults and ignorance, just for a chance of human connection, to pretend that maybe he could have a new family, that... that none of that awful stuff that happened in his past was real. 

It still hurt. The scars, and the dark side's words, and the thought of everything the light sides did to him after, the fact that they didn't even know.

They couldn't know. He couldn't let them know. He had that family now, the friends he always wanted, they were nice to him, but... he was scared. Scared that the moment they saw what he truly looked like, that they found how he'd been lying to them this whole time, things would go right back to the way they were before. Roman would certainly find new ways to insult him, probably slipping right back into his old habits. Logan would probably be unsettled by Virgil's appearance, perhaps refuse to hang out with him as much as he did, stop sitting next to him whilst reading his books, what was usually a silent declaration of his trust and love for Virgil. And Patton... Patton would know. He'd find out about Virgil's past, and- and he'd hate him for it. He'd send him back.

There was a gentle knock on his door. Virgil began to panic. He sat up in his bed, noticing that some of his makeup had come off onto his sheets and the rest had most likely been ruined by his tears. He quickly repositioned himself, hiding under his blanket to prevent the outside world from seeing him like this. Just in case the person came in. He didn't reply to them, but... just in case.

The door slowly opened. Great. The next moment, someone was sat on his bed, gently stroking his shoulder. Virgil tensed up.

"Are you alright, kiddo?"

Oh. It was Patton, again. Of course. Virgil breathed in, desperately trying to think happy thoughts to stop himself from crying but coming up with nothing.

"I'm fine," he said. There was a silent echo to his voice, a little deeper than usual. He did not sound fine.

"Virgil, baby, look at me."

Virgil was silent for a moment, before simply saying, "No." 

"Virgil-"

"I don't want to."

"At least tell me what's wrong-"

"I can't."

"I just want to-"

"I can't!"

He'd sat up now, throwing the covers off him and looking Patton right in the eye. Patton withdrew a little, a... scared expression growing on his face, then a mixture of fear and disgust, and then... confusion, pity. And Virgil realised his mistake. His scars were on show. Silence fell over the room, and in that moment Virgil just wanted to disappear.

"What happened?" Patton finally let out, his voice quiet and timid.

Virgil hunched his shoulder. He looked down, fixing his eyes on his bed. "I..."

"Should we get Logan?" Patton asked, the fear in his eyes quickly fading, to be replaced by concerned. "Those... Those, uh, they look pretty nasty-"

"No." His voice was still deep and echoey and he hated it.

"Breath, Virgil," Patton said, apparently just now beginning to notice the panic settling in Virgil.

Virgil took several deep breaths, trying to get his thoughts straight. Patton stayed with him, quiet, eyes drifting to the side as if he could sense Virgil's discomfort of being looked at. And once Virgil was ready, Patton listened.

"I've had these for years," Virgil said, slowly. "I, uh, didn't want you guys to know in case you freaked out, but, uh..." Virgil found himself telling Patton everything. All about life with the dark sides, and about that night, and about what had happened after when he was with the light sides, and... and everything in between. At several parts, he felt like he should stop, but knew if he did stop he'd never find the courage to speak about it again. And Patton deserved to know. Even if it meant he'd no longer want Virgil around... Virgil didn't want to hide any longer.

When Virgil was done, Patton just looked at him, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Kiddo..."

And then Patton was hugging him, tightly, allowing Virgil to bury his head in his shoulder. Patton was warm, and comfortable, and soon enough all of Virgil's fears from earlier had faded.

"You're safe now, kiddo," Patton said. "We love you. You don't have to hide anything. You're safe."

[sadsapphicslut]

chapter one - original story (i havent come up with a title yet lol)

okay so here it is!! if anyone actually reads this i love u :) please leave feedback if u have any!! 

TWs:

death, drugs, medication, mental illness, references to sex, swearing, alcohol

wordcount: 8.2k

(also i dont think anyone will but im paranoid of people stealing my writing so obligatory dont copy/post to another site or steal my work in any other ways etc)

There were five of us; 4 boys and me. In hindsight I realize from the outside our group probably seemed a little predatory, but it was never really like that. For the most part they were like brothers to me. Of course, being the only girl in a small and isolated club of mainly older boys, things were bound to happen. We were in high school and it was summer, can you blame me? Regardless, however much I loved them, it was not quite in the way my father always assumed or my mother always warned (during our uncomfortable monthly visitations before I managed to get rid of her for good).

The months everything went down, which I often referred to only as ‘The Worst Summer of My Life’, (quite melodramatically but not without reason) were somehow still full of the best moments of my life. Moments I often find myself wishing I could repeat, as nothing has or will ever come close to the way I felt, sitting amongst my boys day after day, somehow light as the warm July breeze that blew past us. My entire body weightless, as non-existent as the time that passed us by. Despite the depression I’d found myself plunged into during the days after my only brother’s death, I truly believe I will never again be as happy as I was then. Laughter seemed to flow freely from our mouths, smiles plastered onto our faces no matter the circumstances, content to just exist. I don’t think I can ever forget the day it was raining so hard the entire city was flooded, but we walked around uptown well past the point of being absolutely drenched, our clothes dripping so heavily the security guard denied us entry into the public library. Something about that day made me feel so free, like we were invisible. Completely apathetic to the whims of the real world, somehow existing only in our twisted minds and intertwined fantasies.

Maybe if I’d had my head screwed on a little tighter, or if we’d met under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. I used to go down that line of thought every night before succumbing to a fitful but heavy sleep (under the direct affect of 25mg of Quetiapine, working to counteract my Concerta and Lexapro). Those types of irrational thoughts were ones my therapist deemed as my habit for rumination. In regard to the death of my brother she called it ‘bargaining’, one of the stages of grief. I never liked it when she spoke about those stages as I’ve always felt them to be wrong. Maybe because I never quite moved on to the final one, no matter how many years pass. ‘Acceptance’, coined as the “Re-entrance to reality”. Maybe it’s different since I was never really grounded to reality in the first place. I still wake up some mornings, thinking I’ve heard his voice in the other room, ready to beguile me with tales from his day of retail work. Other times I swear I’ve walked past him on the street. Some people may relate to my experiences, with reasonings of ghosts, angels, apparitions, or insanity, among many other causes for the apparent viewing of a loved one long gone to the other side. I never shared these beliefs, but I am not one to deny. Rather, I always take these instances as an omen. A warning. I have come to this conclusion not without evidence, at least circumstantial, given the many occasions over the years – and especially that summer – where I found my hypothesis to be true. All I can say is that I am glad I’ve never been met with the same chimerical visions of my mother; one can only hope that is because she ended up where she belonged. Maybe I’ll see her there, though I hope at the very least they could keep us in separate rooms of Hell if the situation does arise.

From what I know of the others now, which is admittedly not much – majorly due to my own neglect, as opposed to theirs – they share the same prescription for rose-coloured glasses as I. We always were too engrossed with our own romanticization of nostalgia and sentiment that it clouded our view. I often think this was one of the reasons we seemed to fit so well together. Not quite like puzzle pieces, too self-absorbed to hold a candle to that analogy, more like complimentary colours. I wish it could’ve stayed the way it was. We did try, and I never found myself able to fully disentangle myself from James, nor he could to I, but for most of us we could recognize an ending when one arises. I used to find myself using the word tragedy a lot while reminiscing, but I no longer think that word is appropriate. Fate is a more fitting term in my opinion, regardless of if one believes in it or not. “(A)n inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end,” as reported by Merriam Webster. I don’t think there’s a word in the entire English language more accurate in describing how everything ended up; and if there is, I am yet to find it.

  Chapter One

A Dead Brother

          I have tried to erase the day my brother died from my memory so many times I lost count decades ago. I still find the image seeping into my unconsciousness quite dreadfully on the nights I neglect to take my pills and catch myself waking up with a steady flow of tears that dampen my pillow along with the drool that always seems to pour from my sleeping mouth. The dread that pools in my stomach sometimes being heavy enough for me to lose my lunch. I frequently wonder how people managed to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault; the most painful lie I’ve ever been told and one that seemed to stream from people’s mouths as easily as the mini sandwiches laid in the living room of my brother’s wake were stuffed in. The worst part about being told it wasn’t my fault was how obviously one could tell they didn’t believe what they were saying either. His death was my fault; a fact so uncontestable I wanted to kill myself every time I was reminded of it.

           My therapist often tried to remind me that even if his death was “partially” (she always used the word partially, refusing to acknowledge the truth that his death was entirely my fault) my fault, there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it. This was another lie I despised being told. There were a million ways I could have prevented his death or saved his life and yet, here we are, with him dead and me wishing everyday that I won’t wake up tomorrow. “Begonia,” she’d tell me – she was the only person who called me by my full name, I usually went by Nia, but a nickname felt too personal and I didn’t like her very much – “You mustn’t keep torturing yourself with these scenarios. He’s dead, and there is nothing you can do to change that. I am starting to wonder if you are going to let yourself move on. This isn’t healthy.” That was a line she liked to use a lot, “this isn’t healthy”. As if anything I do is.

           Barb, my therapist that is, liked to go over the details of my brother’s death a lot. She often called it a ‘trigger’, which is why she always seemed to want me to talk about it. “Trauma is a horrible thing, Begonia, and you must learn to move past it, process it. I can see you still haven’t managed to do that on your own, and that’s what I’m here for, to help you move on.” Barb was big on the idea of  “moving past trauma” and “learning to cope”, she often sounded like a broken record of a motivational speech. I found myself comparing her to school guidance councillors without realizing it, they were about equally as helpful (read: not helpful) in my opinion.

           Sometimes I blame my inability to forget and “move past” my brother’s death on the way Barb constantly brought it up and made me go through it. I never quite understood how that part of my therapy was supposed to help me. I asked her once, what good was it doing rehashing the worst day of my life?

           “Well, Begonia,” I hated the way she said my name, always so condescending and sour, like even the idea of me questioning her in any way was as impolite as shitting on her desk.

“You have to understand that I only want to help you. You seem to be unable to process your traumas on your own, which is why we need to go through these things. As you are aware, this PTSD,” she always left strange pauses after each letter, her slow tone grinding on my ears, “you have acquired has left you unable to function normally in daily life. I want you to get to a place where you can have a normal life (Ha!) and cope without these meetings. It’s what your brother would’ve wanted.” Barb liked to tell me what my brother would have wanted at least once every session. Putting aside the fact she knew next to nothing about him aside from the intimate details on how he died, I always thought it was an inappropriate thing to say as a psychologist specializing in grief counselling. It never particularly bothered me, I was reasonable enough to realize she was just trying to comfort me, but I never liked the phrase. “What your brother would’ve wanted.” What he would’ve wanted was to not die but we’re past that, aren’t we Barb, as you so often enjoyed telling me.  

I have always been quite averse to my diagnoses, ADHD at 14, Persistent Depressive Disorder at 15, PTSD at 16, issues with alcohol and drugs that landed me in rehab more than once. I’ve been on a concoction of different medications since I was 13, even before I was diagnosed with anything officially. Sertraline, Lexapro, Prozac, Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall, Quetiapine, Ambien, Zopiclone, a healthy mix of off brand and branded medications. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, stimulants. I can’t remember a time before monthly trips to the drug store and side effect surveys that I’m not sure if I ever told the truth on. It’s a wonder that people didn’t see a slew of addiction issues coming from a mile away.

I think I’ve always had the most contention with my PTSD diagnosis though, I hate it because I know it’s undeniably true. I wish it wasn’t because maybe that’d mean my brother was still alive, but he isn’t. And I’m left traumatized and bereaved. Sometimes it feels like it hurt me more than it ever did my mother or father. Maybe it did. I should feel selfish for saying that, but I can’t, because they didn’t have to look at him while the life left his body, praying to God for the ability to turn back time. See the moment his eyes glazed over, knowing I’d never get to hear his obnoxious laugh, or make fun of his dumb face ever again.

  ❈

             “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.”

It was a cool evening in May, the end of spring brought with it the promise of summer and the air had the familiar aroma of daffodils and petrichor. I had decided to go to a party with my friend Faun, my dad having been out at his girlfriend’s place for the weekend and me having nothing better to do. I wasn’t one for partying, but I did like to get high, so I usually just hung around with the rest of the potheads and pill junkies until someone dragged me home or I fell asleep. That night Don, a friend of a friend of a friend, had brought coke and E and we were all determined to get as fucked up as possible. Faun only ended up doing one line before running into a bedroom with some guy whose name started with an M – was it Martin or Marvin? Maybe it was Mickey – and left me sitting on the couch beside a girl who was about 1 more shot of vodka away from passing out.

I had fully intended on doing some coke, but the E seemed to be hitting harder than I was used to. I was sure my Ritalin had worn off by then but maybe I was wrong. As I stood up to get a glass of water I nearly fell over and decided to sit back down. Turning to face Don, I tapped him on the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“What was in that molly?” I was vaguely aware of the way my words were slurring, but I felt weirdly energized. I was aware my heart was beating a little too fast, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I knew what ecstasy felt like, this was not nearly my first time doing it, but I felt really wrong.

           “Don!” He turned to look at me and I felt uneasy. His eyes looked a little crazed – not that out of the ordinary but given the circumstances I was worried – “What the fuck did you give me?” It felt like I’d done 5 lines of coke in the last 2 minutes and I knew that E had been spiked.

           Don’s face had an unmistakable expression of guilt written on it as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, his voice shaking, “I think it was cut with meth.” Fuck. My stomach dropped. I have to get out of here. I quickly shot up from the musty couch I was sat on, carefully holding onto Don’s shoulder so I didn’t fall, my legs still feeling unsteady. I opened my phone; the screen was too bright, and I had a hard time maneuvering it as I attempted to exit the house. Clicking the green Messages icon, I sent a text to Faun – e ws cut w meth im lesving – with shaky hands and burst out the door into the fresh air. I clicked my brother’s contact and pressed call.

           It rang four times before he picked up.

           “Nia? Why are you calling me it’s like 1am?” I could tell from the smooth tone of his voice he’d been drinking. He didn’t very often but he had an appreciation for cocktails and enjoyed getting buzzed now and then. He still was a year from being legal to drink but his friends we’re all 19 and 20 and bought alcohol for him. I found him fun when he got drunk, becoming talkative and giggly, but right now I wished so badly for him to be sober.

           “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.” I was slurring, my voice a bit too pitchy to pass as anything but high. I knew he didn’t like it when I did this, but he never ratted me out. Sometimes I wish he did, maybe I never would’ve been able to go to that party in the first place.

           I could hear a door shutting on his end, I assumed he was going into a different room. “What’s wrong?” My skin was bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of having to tell him what I did.

           “Fuck, uh… I did something stupid. I’m at Emily Goguen’s, y’know up in Champlain Heights. Please pick me up.” I rarely used the word please.

“Nia, what the fuck did you do?” I almost started crying but I found my eyes to be bone dry.

“Please don’t yell.”

“Okay, really, tell me what is going on or I won’t come get you.”

“I accidentally took meth.”

“You what? What the fuck, Nia! Fuck this I’m on my way and I’m fucking telling Dad.” I cringed but I knew he was going to before I even called. The pit in my stomach grew deeper as the buzzing of my skin grew stronger. I could feel myself getting higher, everything was so clear and standing around was making me grow restless. Ray huffed on the phone and I heard him entering his car.

His tone was softer the next time he spoke. “I’ll be there in 5, just stay put, please. Do you want me to stay on the call or can I hang up?”

I felt like a child, which I was really, only 16 at the time, a whole life ahead of me. Still, I was grateful for the way he spoke to me, reminiscent of being 6 and getting a scrapped knee after falling off my pink Razor scooter. The high made me edgy, and my voice was sharp to my ears, “No, you can hang up.” I heard the click to indicate he’d done just that, and started pushing my cuticles as I waited, the task somehow greatly interesting me, and I did not realize until later I had managed to pick off all of the skin around my pointer and middle fingernails during the five-minute wait.

 Ray pulled up exactly five minutes later in his ugly, blue 2011 Ford Fiesta he’d gotten the year prior after passing his driving test. What I wouldn’t do now to smell the inside of that car once again, a distinct attar of pineapple car freshener and Old Spice deodorant mixed with stale black tea, faintly present due to his ever-growing collection of empty paper cups from various different fast foods and coffee shops.

I stumbled into the car, feeling the strong impulse to clean the space, but attempting to push it down. From the passenger side overhead mirror I could see my blown pupils and sweaty forehead, pieces of my copper red hair sticking to my face. My freckles were showing through my concealer that had mostly worn off and I wanted to cover them back up. My skin was pale from winter (and probably the drugs in my system) but my cheeks were flushed like I was drunk. My high cheekbones made my face look gaunt in the lighting, but my face was wide which balanced it out, so I didn’t look completely skeletal. Ray was looking at me, the worry apparent in his eyes, but his face was flushed as well, and I could tell he’d been drinking a bit too much to drive. I had my license as well, but it was clear I was in no condition to take over on that front, so I didn’t bother saying anything. I wish I had. There’s a lot of things I wish. I wish I hadn’t gone to that party; I wish I hadn’t taken that E; I wish I called someone else; I wish I waited it out at Emily’s; I wish I walked home; I wish I took a cab; I wish I waited for Faun; I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t take his eyes off me as I shut the mirror in front of me.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. Please just take me home.”

“Is Dad there?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should take you to Mom’s.”

“No!” I’d moved out of my mom’s completely just over 6 months ago, barely seeing her once a month. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. She never liked me much anyways, the feeling was entirely mutual. Ray seemed to have a close bond with her for some reason despite how she treated him like shit. I never called him out though, he no longer lived with her, so I didn’t really care what their relationship was as long as she wasn’t hurting him. She did treat him significantly better than me, however, so I figured maybe he managed to forgive her the way I never could.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until Dad gets home. I’m not gonna lie to him about this shit. Fucking meth, Nia? Seriously?”

“It was in the molly.” He sighed and started driving.

 My brain felt like it was filled with butterflies, or ants, some kind of movement that was itching at my skull. The paper cups scattered around were making me anxious and I needed to clean his car. I began picking at my nails again, but I needed to pick up those cups, you see. I turned around and started gathering the ones Ray had discarded in the back, filling up an empty plastic bag from Best Buy. I was fully switched around in my seat, nearly crawling into the backseat to reach the trash my brother had left. I felt him tap my side, I looked over at him and he started to scold me.

“Nia, stop that will you, you’re distracting me.” But I needed to finish gathering the cups. The car was dirty, and my skin was itching, the traffic lights burning my skin. I was elated and I didn’t want to listen to him, he was just trying to get in my way. I continued to lean over, not registering the swerve of the car as he looked over at me.

“Nia – ”

He turned over to push me back into my seat, his eyes leaving the road for no more than a few seconds. This time I felt the swerve as we broke into the next lane.

 This is where I have a hard time piecing together what happened. From what I was told, we ended up running directly into a 2015 Dodge Ram 2500. In case you understandably have a lack of knowledge when it comes to cars, that is a very large, sturdy, and expensive pickup truck which I would probably consider the last vehicle you’d want to charge headfirst into while going 70km per hour. I don’t recall the actual incident of hitting the truck, whether that be from the drugs, the position I was in, or hitting my head on the roof of the car, I don’t know. What I do know is that when I woke up, we were in a ditch on the side of the road, with the car flipped upside down, and my entire body was screaming at me to Get Out!

I felt blood oozing sluggishly from my head and noted some indistinct pain in my right wrist where it had scraped something pretty badly and gotten twisted, but I otherwise felt alright. I couldn’t tell if the cloudiness in my head was from a concussion or the earlier events of the night, but I figured it was probably good I was awake, regardless of how dazed I seemed.

I turned my head to the left and was greeted by a view I will never be able to forget, it having been branded to the insides of my eyelids, scorched in my mind. Ray, with his left arm twisted in spectacular fashion, reminding me of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, after Lockhart spells away Harry’s bones. My brother had always been squeamish with broken bones and I hoped he wasn’t aware of how his limb looked at the moment. His head was bleeding quite profusely, and I was alarmed despite how many times I’d heard in movies that headwounds bleed a lot. His eyelids were fluttering, irises appearing glassy and unfocussed. And then I saw it. A piece of glass was stuck in the left side of his neck. The windshield apparently had broken with the impact and my brother was lucky enough to get a piece lodged right in his trachea. It was thick, bright red blood –  that I could’ve sworn was sparkling in my current inebriated perspective – was gushing out the side, so heavy I could smell it, taste it, in the air. I was frozen once I realized.

Do something, do something! Put pressure on it! Call 9-1-1! My mind was screaming at me, but it was all I could do to sit and watch the blood stain his clothes. He was wearing the corduroy jacket I’d gotten him for his birthday and a white button up, the red seeped into them until it was as if they’d always been that colour. My voice was caught in my throat, but I managed to push some sound past.

“Ray?” It was weaker than a whisper but in the silence that seemed to envelope us in that car, completely independent of the outside world and sirens that could surely be heard from blocks away, I knew he would be able to hear me.

He looked up, eyes focussing slightly on me, and a tear slipped down his face, only it went the wrong way since we were still upside down. He mouthed the words “I love you”. We never said that to each other. As close as we were, our relationship had always been more comparable to that of a best friend than sibling. We weren’t overly affectionate, never hugged or said I love you, hung out for enjoyment rather than as a punishment. Most people didn’t know we were brother and sister until we pointed it out, we never really looked alike and were absent of the traditional distaste and rivalry usually present between siblings. I knew, as he looked me in the eyes and said those words, this would be the last time I’d ever see him outside of a morgue.

I sat in my seat next to him with dry eyes, wishing desperately I could cry, needing to express the feeling of utter horror and despondency that completely overtook my body and mind, but I couldn’t. Barb told me time and time again that I was in shock, there was nothing I could’ve done, but I will never be able to believe that. I still remember the moment the final tear slipped down his face. He smiled at me, pain evident in his eyes. His entire body was covered in the metallic smelling red, and I wanted to vomit. I wish I could say the crash had sobered me, but it didn’t, not really. I was still entirely in a daze as I saw his muscles relax, smiling falling from his face, eyes not quite rolling back all the way but enough to give me nightmares for the next 20 years. The life had been absorbed from his body, leaving a heavy shell. I was told afterwards this all happened within the span of 10 minutes, but it felt like years. By the time the first responders had appeared I was an old woman. Grayed hair, and arthritic bones. Mourning for the brother I’d lost oh so many years ago, when I was just a girl. I think in a way I died in that car with him, I never was really the same. But who would be? Best friend and confidant, older brother, idol, dying in front of your eyes as you do nothing, knowing for the rest of your life that his death is – was – your fault. Knowing you could’ve done something, anything really, to prevent his untimely loss of life before the paramedics arrived. If I’d been the same after that night I would have to be much more disturbed than I ever thought.

I sat in that car beside Ray’s corpse for 3 more minutes before I heard the sirens closing in around us – me. I thought I might pass out, either from the toll of what I’d just witnessed or from my concussion, but I remained upright, probably from the adrenaline. I couldn’t move so I just waited, and hoped I’d die too before anyone reached the scene. It would be much preferrable to any other outcome I could think of at the time. I could vaguely register the pain in my wrist, but I felt so numb I’m sure you could’ve shot me in the foot and I wouldn’t have blinked.

A young fireman named Walter ended up getting me out of the car. The door was smashed and stuck which meant I’d been trapped in there either way. I was happy I hadn’t bothered trying to escape as I'm terribly claustrophobic and finding out I couldn’t would have thrown me into a proper panic attack. The fireman was incredibly nice, saying reassuring things the entire time they were opening the door with the “Jaws of Life”. I ended up seeing him again in the hospital actually, or at least that’s what my father told me. He wanted to check in on me and left me some hydrangeas in a vase. I always preferred chrysanthemums but I'm not that picky when it comes to a floral arrangement.

After the door was busted open I was carried out by Walter. I was shaking and apparently babbling nonsense but in my head I was trying to tell them to save Ray. I wasn’t really aware of all that much, completely blind to the crowd of spectators that had rudely gathered to witness the violence – wasn’t it supposed to be taboo to stop at a car crash? Wondering vaguely about what happened and wishing you could get a better look as you drive past the scene.  My head wound had made me a bit incompetent and the meth in my system was really not helping the entire situation.

I was laid on a gurney and rolled onto an ambulance. I don’t remember much about the ride; the sirens, the bright lights, a paramedic named Alice who spoke softly, smoothing out my hair while the other put an oxygen mask on my face (which I wasn’t entirely cognizant enough to question though now I'm not really sure why they did it) and splinted my wrist. Alice asked me if I was on drugs and I nodded but was unable to speak when she asked me what ( I would find this a common occurrence after the accident, my voice seemingly stolen alongside Ray’s). She just nodded and said something to the other ME that I didn’t quite pick up. She asked if I could tell her my name and I shook my head. She must’ve noticed the iPhone in my pocket and grabbed it, turning to the medical ID page.

“Is your name Begonia?” I nodded, though the name sounded foreign on my ears. I liked the way Alice said it though, she had a light Spanish accent and a matronly tone that made me feel safe. I wondered if she had kids of her own; she looked young, but my own mother had me at 19 so who could say? She told me her name after complimenting mine. “Begonia is a beautiful name; I love the flowers. I’m Alice, okay? We’re gonna make sure you’re alright and take you to the hospital.” Her voice was sweet like syrup and I became sleepy as she spoke.

“No honey, you can’t fall asleep yet. Just stay awake a little bit longer and I promise you they’ll let you sleep at the hospital.”

  I don’t remember anything of the rest of the ride to the hospital. I was dropped off at the Emergency Room at the Regional, head still too foggy to allow me to recall anything before I was sitting in a white bed, in a white room, with white sheets and a light blue hospital gown on. It was morning and my father was sitting at the end of my bed in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his eyes bloodshot and moist. He’d very obviously been crying for a long time and my chest panged with guilt. I reached up to feel my head and realized there was a cast on my wrist. With my other hand I touched the cotton that covered my forehead, wincing when I felt the sting of what had to be stitches in a nasty gash. I would spend the next 5 years of my life with a variety of diverse haircuts that attempted to hide the ugly scar that served as a reminder of the worst night of my life. Even now it is still extremely obvious, but I can’t be bothered to try and hide it, I so rarely look in the mirror that it wouldn’t matter if my skin turned blue.

My dad hadn’t looked up, so I attempted to gain his attention but once again found my voice failing me. I tapped on the bed a few times before he seemed to realize and face me.

“Nia… how are you feeling?” His voice was raspy and thin. He reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, though this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I remained silent as he looked at me, searching my face for something I'm not sure he found.

“Nia, I, I'm not sure how to say this to you.” Here it comes. Almost worse than watching my brother die, the confirmation. “Ray, he’s, well dead.” I saw my father’s eyes begin to tear up again as I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t feel the sobs that racked my body, nor the hot tears streaming from my eyes. I saw my dad start to move closer but sit back down when I flinched. Of course, I knew my brother was dead; I had front row seats to watching the event happen, but somehow I still didn’t believe it until the words left my father’s mouth. According to my dad, who many years later described to me how eery the whole event was, my sobs were completely silent, and I was entirely unaware of everything happening around me. This dissociation lasted the first few days after the accident, and the entirety of my hospital stay. Leaving the blissful gap in my memory I have now.

Barb told me this was my mind’s way of coping with the tragedy and stress of what happened. I was honestly just happy I had an excuse to skip some of the dreadful retelling she forced upon me.

 ❈

             The funeral was of course a depressing and solemn event. I was still yet to speak and found myself thankful for the way people gave up on trying to get me to communicate. I dressed in a black skirt with a black short sleeved button up. A dark coat thrown around my shoulders as the cast on my right hand was too big to fit through the sleeve. I looked terrible, barely a week out of hospital before I watched Ray sink into the ground. The wound on my forehead was still quite nasty, though it looked better than it did before. I tried to cover it up with my hair but was unsuccessful. I got bangs soon after.

           The matter was very traditional, taking place in a church even though none of our family was really religious. It was only the second time I'd ever been in a church, the first having been for my cousin Julie’s wedding when I was four years old. I don’t remember anything of it aside from the material of my dress itching at my neck and making me rather miserable. Of course, not nearly as miserable as I was the day of the funeral, sitting in a pew at the front of the church, listening to a priest claiming Ray would’ve wanted us to celebrate his life. I knew this not to be true; Ray was extremely dramatic and would’ve cherished the thought of everyone he’d ever spoken to moping around for weeks after his death, beside themselves with grief. He sometimes referred to himself as “Romeo” after having been broken up with by another girl he was supposedly in love with, stating he better just stab himself in the heart now if he couldn’t have her. On the rare occasion he broke up with a girlfriend, he’d lounge around, eating ice cream, pretending to not be upset and comparing his cold heart to that of Richard VIII. The concept of him being any different over his death was almost comical; Ray was nothing if not predictable.

           I sat beside my father, who sat beside my mother (it was an extremely awkward arrangement that neither I nor my father cared for) and seemed to have the idea that I could evaporate if I thought hard enough about it. Unfortunately, I did not evaporate, or even come close to it, instead finding myself exactly where I'd been the whole time. I mostly tuned out the service, only really paying attention when my father and Ray’s best friend, Jake spoke. I managed to escape the duty of having to speak that day thanks to my fragile mental state and mutism. Though I'm sure I would’ve been forced all the same if I had been able to talk in any capacity, regardless of where my head was at.

           Faun was sitting in the pew behind me, feeling quite guilty about the whole ordeal. Or friendship dissolved soon after, I think she blamed herself for taking me to the party. It didn’t bother me too much though; we were never the closest and I sometimes thought her to be extremely annoying. An endless stream of shitty boyfriends that she only acquired so she could further repress her sexuality. When we were 14 we kissed at a sleepover and she admitted she was in love with me. I felt bad for not returning the feeling and our relationship had been on rocky territory ever since. I don’t understand how she thought she was in love with me since she barely knew anything about me, but either way she never brought it up again and soon after the monsoon of boytoys had begun.

           My brother’s friends and ex-girlfriends also attended the event. I didn’t approach any of them, far too scared they’d blame me for the death of their friend. One of them, Alex, went up to me to say how sorry he was about everything that happened. He was crying quite heavily (I later found out he was the friend Ray had been drinking with and the second last person to see him alive) and I could smell alcohol on his breath. I stood there while he spoke, telling me about how great my brother was as if I was wholly unaware. Body waving side to side as he stood with his hand on the wall beside me. He offered me some bronze liquid in a flask, and I obliged, savouring the burning sensation that followed in my throat. Alex’s voice was steady and deep, reminding me of my father’s. I’m not sure how long we stood there, him spinning a fantastic web of anecdotes and stories about my brother, some entirely new to my ears. We passed the beverage back and fourth until it was empty. My head felt lighter and heavier somehow simultaneously, and I found it much easier to listen to Alex talk. Later he tried to kiss me in my bedroom during the wake. His mouth was sour, and his tongue seemed too big for his mouth. I wondered how he was able to talk so much without it getting in the way.

             We moved in procession to the cemetery after the service. The grass was a vibrant green colour, and I didn’t understand how the world kept turning after Ray’s death, for mine stopped the moment his heart failed to beat. The sky was a lovely shade of cyan-blue, with clouds so perfect they seemed animated. Pink carnations were planted near the outskirts of the yard and I could smell spring in the air; a heavy, floral aroma that never failed to comfort me. I thought it should be raining, it felt inappropriate that the weather refused to match my despair. My mind wandered as we approached the empty grave and I considered what it would be like if Ray was here beside me. He’d probably be making jokes, telling me to lighten up for a minute or my face would get stuck that way. He’d mock my silence, saying how I never managed to shut up for a minute before but suddenly I'm as proper as a nun. I'd smile, ruffling his hair to piss him off and try to refrain from laughing aloud. The absence of him only felt stronger as I imagined this scenario, so I shoved it out of my head.

           The casket was lowered into the ground, my father was a pallbearer and I often think about how he must’ve felt carrying his son’s body before watching him being buried. My mother sobbed loudly which annoyed me, it felt a bit exaggerated. I had a few tears falling from my eyes but mostly, I just felt numb. Incredibly and absolutely empty inside. To onlookers it may have seemed as though we weren’t very close, my reaction being similar to that of his ex-girlfriends’. However, this didn’t account for the loss of my voice, or the broken state I was in mentally. Maybe it was better that my reaction was rather dulled. It meant people didn’t feel the need to approach me as they did my mother. Less concerned given she was the one playing up her emotions to the point of embarrassment. My father cried, more than I but far less than my mother. He didn’t cry very often – I'd actually only seen it once prior to the whole event – and I figured he probably needed it. At this point I felt as though I'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime so Ray wouldn’t mind if I was a bit subdued in comparison. He never was a crier anyways.

           As I sprinkled soil onto his casket I imagined he was right beside me, watching, ready to criticize as usual. The dirt stained my hand, clutching the sweat and turning my skin a muddy brown colour. As I wiped the dirt on my jacket I could hear him nagging about how I better go wash my hands, what was I, a six-year-old? He was in denial about me growing up and took every chance to remind me I was still just a kid. Not that he had much on me, but I enjoyed it. I never was one to shy away from attention; at least not before. Little quirks and inside jokes between us were always some of my favourite things, the type of humour you could only get from living with someone your whole life. No matter how much his memory will fade there are some things I can’t let myself forget. His mocking tone when he’d make fun of me is one of those things. If I ever managed to let go of that sound then I must be dead as well.

           The sun beat down on my back, my skin burning in my black clothes. I wasn’t sweating yet, but most of the men around were – suit jackets aren’t exactly known for their breathability. My nose was dry and aching red, sore from how much I'd been wiping it the last couple days. Still the sweet seeping tinge of flowers and spring managed to crawl into my nose, settling underneath my skin, the buzzing from before had returned, I could feel my heartbeat loudly in my throat and had the desperate urge to just run. Instead, I just followed the rest of the party, sitting down in the passenger seat of my dad’s car. The silence that settled over us was uncomfortable and stale. He turned on the radio, Led Zeppelin filled the air around us, thankfully relieving some of the tension. I felt in my left pocket for one of the carnations I’d picked from a nearby grave earlier. The flower had begun to wilt, heat taking effect on its delicate composition. When I got home I put it in between the pages of my oldest copy of Romeo and Juliet. Ray would have found it funny if he was around to see.

The drive to my mother’s house was short and minimally awkward. We sat in silence – aside from the music – only because there was no alternative. My hand remained clutched around the dying flower in my pocket as we left the car and entered the home. Other people had already arrived, clustered in the living room, picking at tiny ham sandwiches and various desserts my mother had undoubtedly stress-baked the day before. I wasn’t hungry so I sat as far away from the food and people as humanely possible while staying in the living room, not wishing to hear my mother’s scolding about how I need to socialize more. Eventually I managed to slip away into my old bedroom, where Alex was sitting on my bed drinking a mickey of Smirnoff I assumed he swiped from my mother’s freezer. He offered it to me, and I accepted, the weird repetitive déjà vu like act, mirroring earlier and making the whole day feel like somewhat of a dream.

When I went over this part with Barb she always felt the need to emphasize that it wasn’t a dream. I knew this, obviously, which I told her every time, but she was inclined to disbelief when it came to my denial over my brother’s death. “Begonia, you must realize he’s gone. Dwelling is helping nobody, especially not you. This isn’t a healthy mindset for you to have. Always comparing living to your dreams. I want you to tell me you understand this isn’t just some dream you can wake up from.” The first time she said that to me I was thrust into a bout of wordlessness, as it struck a bit too close to home. The next time she brought it up I just told her of course, though even now I still cannot say I fully understand. How can I when all of my assumptions have been constantly disproven time and time again. How can I ever say this isn’t a dream when I'm not even sure I'm real? James always tries to reassure me, “Bee, I'm telling you, if you can feel this beat, the pulse in your wrist, your neck, your chest, you are alive,” he’ll say while pressing my hand to my wrist, but we both know it isn’t that simple.

Me and Alex made out for a few minutes until I managed to excuse myself. He was a bad kisser and tasted disgusting. I left him sitting on my old bed while I went downstairs to find my dad. He was sitting at the counter with a can of root beer, blank expression sat upon his face. When his eyes met mine he sighed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket. It was obvious neither of us wanted to be here, for numerous reasons, so we left. And if the radio stayed off as we drove home we didn’t acknowledge the silence that time. In my hand was the crumpled carnation, and for some reason it made my chest hurt. A deep ache of dread. I could feel my heartbeat, hear it over the drum of the car engine, and I crushed the flower further. I was careful not to rip it though, as if that was crossing some kind of invisible line my mind had set for me. My fingers felt waxy when I finally let go.

Back home, I opened the copy of Romeo and Juliet. I retrieved the deteriorating plant from my pocket and placed it in the center. Closing the book, I stacked it under a few dictionaries, a magazine under it so it was trapped on either side. I sat down in front of it and cried. Not the huge gasping sobs my mother seemed to fancy, nor the quiet weeping of my father. No, I cried the tears of a child who just found out their grandparents died, the soft uncomprehending grief that overcame them as they first learned what death really meant. How long forever was. My legs pulled up to my chest, hands loosely hung around knees, unable to clasp together because of my cast. I closed my eyes and I swear I could hear the sound of Ray sighing behind me, but when I opened my eyes I was alone. I went to bed, earlier than I ever had in my life, still believing it was a dream and I'd wake up like Alice after her adventures in Wonderland. But when I awoke, I was met with the slow, oozing perdure of my reality. The one which I could not wake up from, and the one where my brother was dead.

[livlepretre]

ok i just realized what i love and hate about s3: there isn't as much of a clear plot trajectory like in the first 2 seasons where everything just made so much sense and one thing led to the next smoothly and believably. so it's like the first sign that tvd is starting to falter... BUT THEN. THE DELENA IN S3. TOP. FUCKING. TIER. and on top of that the acting in s3 overall is top tier too ok honestly like everything - omg idk i've just been rewatching and realizing how many of the best lines/acting in this series is in s3. when katherine talks about her humanity. when elena tells damon he'll be the one to save stefan from himself, not her. i'm just screaming omg the plot and direction of the season as a whole isn't quite as good as 1/2 but the individual scenes and emotional revelations the characters have might be, imo, even better than s1/2. does that make sense idk i just wanted to share these thoughts with u

gosh, I completely agree with your analysis-- I first realized the plot was falling apart when I started getting confused about the serial killer plot... and my reasoning there was that I was hyper-fixated on the show, spending a ton of time on the blogs, rewatching the episodes, and I still was confused on their logic (wait... and also.... who made the cave paintings... like.... who knew all of Klaus’s dirty secrets....) so I knew there had to be an issue. and yet... even though seasons 1-2 are a master class on how to write a type, nearly perfect narrative from a plot (and character!) perspective... you’re so right about the emotional resonance of season 3. 

like, that scene when Elena says Damon will be the one to save Stefan and she’s tired and wants to go to sleep!!! one of my literal favorite moments in the whole show. we don’t even need to talk about the moodiness of this season. how this is the season again and again we have those gorgeous shots of Elena, by herself, silent, looking out of her window, again and again and again... those moments always stick with me as being about how she’s totally isolated and pushed out by the ones around her for things she can’t entirely control, but also because she’s hurting down this path of turning out like Katherine, who as her doppelganger is not just her dark reflection, but also a dire warning: watch out, or you’ll turn into a monster just like me. Need I even mention DENVER?!?!?!?! or the fact that actually one of the highest stakes episode of the entire series is 3x05? I GASPED when Tyler’s neck was snapped because I had no idea what would happen-- and the drama for the entire ensemble was OUTSTANDING that episode. Matt nearly drowning? Bonnie being unable to work her magic? Jeremy caught in Katherine’s clutches??? WHERE WERE YOU DAMON????? Amazing. 

so, yeah, the emotional peak may have been season 3, even though that was when the show started to shake. I think that season 3 actually carried a lot of season 4, which was a bit weaker but again had a lot to play with emotionally in a similar way as season 3. imo, season 5 is when the wheels come off the whole thing and we’re just hurtling downhill on fire and enjoying the journey, not the destination, to quote one of my favorite tweets. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #327

starting to run outta steam... haha.

What design is on your shower curtain? It doesn't have one. Did you get in trouble for cussing on accident when you were a kid? Ha ha yeah, for yelling "HOLY SHIT!" once, lmao. Ever made a snow angel? Yeah. Do you laugh at racial jokes? Absolutley not. What’s the highest you can count in a different language? 999, in German. How’s your flirting skills? I wouldn't know, ask those I've flirted with. Have you ever cried over a breakup? For a whole year and then some. I still have episodes. What does your dream life look like? Living isolated in the woods by a river and waterfall with a fantastic spouse, me being a very successful photographer and at least somewhat above *just* financially "stable," maybe having at least one poem published, lots of pets (mostly snakes), plenty of travel opportunities (mostly for photography), being free of my social anxiety and actually being reasonably confident, back in great physical shape... I'm really daydreaming now. What’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t? bleh Where did you meet your current or last significant other? YouTube, back when it was a much more social platform. Do you enjoy wine? No, it's way too bitter. What did you last ask your parents permission for? I asked Mom if I could snack on some chocolate chips she was saving for fudge (since Christmastime...). She was fine with it. Periods are fun. Do you get annoyed when you hear babies crying? I shouldn't, but I do. Me and babies just don't mix. Why were you in a waiting room the last time? I was at a doctor's appointment. What’s your lawyer’s name? I don’t have one. Do you own a lot of scarves? I don't think I own any... Would you ever get a face tattoo? I doubt it, but maybe something very small and subtle. Are your expecting anything in the mail? No. What would you like to see out of your window everyday instead of what you see now? Nature. The woods. Would you rather have a house exterior made from wood, brick, or stucco? Aesthetically, wood, but I don't support the continuation of wood housing in a society where we have many other options that don't harm the environment as much. So, realistically, brick. What is your favorite breakfast? Cinnamon rolls. Do you own a diamond ring? No. Have you ever stripped? No. Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? IT with Girt. Whose house did you last sleep over at? Sara's. Yes or no: foreplay? Lmao who the fuck does it w/o foreplay first. Would you ever record you having sex? No fucking way. Something nobody’d ever guess about you? I used to be in great shape. Would you like to be a journalist? I actually wouldn't mind it. It was almost my minor the last time I was in college, actually, but the required courses were a no-no for me. Last year for school, we had an assignment where we had to choose a popular song to write a story based on. What song would you’ve picked? I don't know popular songs, so I'm picking any song. Off the top of my head, given my love for dark and morbid shit, maybe "Voyeur" by Otep. That song is messed up as fuck. No, it's actually not about sex, 'cuz I ain't interested in writing about that. Did the vacuum scare you as a child? I don't think it did. Do you have a long driveway? No, it's actually very short. Have you ever begged someone to stay with you? Oh yes. Are you friends with anyone missing one of their five senses? Not to my knowledge. Are you good at Pac Man? I'm no better than anyone else. Do you have an embarrassing period story? If so, what is it? No. Have you ever gotten high off a prescription medication? No. Do you prefer tampons or pads? Tampons. Pads are mega uncomf. How old were you when your parents talked to you about puberty? I don't know, actually. What stereotype do you fit the most? Geek, maybe? Emo? Idk. If you’re a worshipper, how do you worship? I don't worship anything. What’s your favorite pain reliever? Advil. Do you have a lot of people blocked on Facebook? Not a lot, no. Does your father have facial hair? Yes. Have you ever had a hamster? Yeah, we went through a few. All of 'em were evil. Grape or strawberry jelly? Absolutely grape. What language would you most like to know fluently? German. Do you remember the last song you slow danced to? "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin. Do you plan on having alcohol at your wedding? I don't know. Do you have an idea of who you might kiss next? I know who I WANT to kiss next, but that doesn't mean it'll happen. I hate psychic questions. Who’s the most controlling person you know? She's not in my life anymore. Do you own a microphone? No. Do you enjoy trailers at the cinema? I do. Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. A centipede, to name one. I've gotten more into the idea of owning invertebrates, and centipedes are in that hobby, but they creep me the fuck out. They're cool to watch, but I don't want one in my house. Do you have a picture of you throwing up the peace sign? Yeah, it's actually one of my favorite pictures of me without makeup. Has a very "me" vibe. Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? Ha, yeah. Can you tell the difference between a Scottish and an Irish accent? Nope. Can you read music? Probably not anymore. Ever sang someone to sleep? No. What is the movie that you have waited the longest for/which film do you remember anticipating the most/are still anticipating? Finding Dory takes the cake. What is something that an interested guy/girl could comment about you, that would make you instantly open to them (e.g., “That book you’re reading is from my favorite author”)? If you compliment my Markiplier tattoo because you get it, we are immediately family. Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? Ozzkat. I use it essentially everywhere. Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? HA, way more than once. Hyperfixation is a friend of mine. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? C U T E ! ! ! What are your thoughts on mini-skirts or mini-dresses? ALSO C U T E ! ! ! Have you ever died in one of your dreams? Yes. What appliance in your kitchen do you use the most often? The microwave. Do you use Skype to talk to your friends? Sara, yes. And Sam once in a blue moon if we're playing WoW together. Are you allergic to any animals? No. Have you ever had to go to the police department? No. Have you ever been called bipolar? Well yes, because I am. Have you ever made fun of a handicapped person? Hell no, and fuck you if you ever have. If a necklace/ring gives you green marks, do you still wear it? No. Have you ever had food poisoning? I don't think so, no. Favorite emoticon? Probably c: Do any emoticons annoy you? No, but an excessive amount of them I find disruptive to whatever I'm reading. Do you think there will be a WWIII? Yup, someday. Has anyone ever asked you if you were emo? Yeah, back in high school. The most interesting thing that’s ever happened to you at a grocery store? I dunno. Probably running into someone unexpected. Do you have any good book ideas? Having written RP since I was 10 years old... I could by now write a dozen dictionary-sized novels encompassing what I think are the greatest storylines. I genuinely do believe there's some fantastic stuff we've got, but there's just too many horribly dark and twisted parts in the evil mobs that I am not comfortable publishing. Are you gonna see Cars 2? Well, this is old. I never even saw the first one. In all honesty, can a person be too nice? Yep. *points at Weed from GDW* Have you ever posted a video onto YouTube? Yeah, mostly "meerkat music videos," I guess you could say. Some tributes to certain MM characters, others just music with meerkat clips. How often do you compliment other people? I try to any time I have a sincere one. I am very much for complimenting people openly and often. The Legend of Zelda series: Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? I'm not a fan of the franchise, honestly. Never got the hype. Do you even game at all? Most certainly, but not nearly as much as I used to... You can only replay old games but so many times before you just can't anymore. And the "newest" console I have is the original Wii, so... I definitely don't have the modern equipment. Would you give Zumba dance lessons a try if presented the opportunity? Probably not. Definitely not while my legs are in such bad shape; the dancing is pretty intense and would seriously hurt. I could easily imagine myself fainting. Do you own a rosary? No, but I did in my Catholic-raised childhood. Do you like Adult Swim? No. Sorry excuses for humor everywhere. What’s the first thing you do when you get on the computer? Do a quick check on KM just to ensure everything's in order. What’s one thing that you just wish you could do all of your life? Not have to pay bills, haha. If someone asks for your honest opinion, do you give it? Yes, if they emphasize they really want honesty. When was the last time you felt uninformed or out of the loop? Apparently some politician (I think) died recently and people practically rejoiced on Facebook. I knew zip about him. When in a car, where do you like to sit? Passenger seat/shotgun. Have you ever fought with a good friend over something completely stupid? Oh, absolutely. There have been plenty of RP-related arguments with multiple people... In the big picture, it's laughable to fight over a game, but when you're so invested in your own creations, in the moment, it can seem like a big issue. Those drama days are long behind me now. Would you ever visit a third-world country? I don't think so, no. It would shatter my heart, especially seeing children in poverty. Are you the type that’s too ashamed to ask for or use directions? No. You overhear two people gossiping about you; what do you do? Probably call over something like, "I'm not deaf, you know." I highly doubt I'd sit there with my mouth shut. Have you ever felt manipulated? Yes. If you were homeless, how would you cope? If I was truly, entirely homeless, quite honestly, I'm almost positive I'd kill myself. Have you ever done something just to fit in? Yeah. When was the last time you tried to impress someone, for whatever reason? I'm not sure, but I've certainly done it at one point or another. Do you think that the world could function in a state of anarchy? Definitely not. How well do you know your U.S. [or your country’s] history? I mean, I know the bare bones of it, but I'm far from well-versed in history. It was one of my weak subjects in school. Would you ever wish to move to another country? I'm not kidding when I say if it weren't for family, I would probably move to Canada. What is something that you do that others might consider “nerdy”? The way I write, particularly for academic purposes. I'm very descriptive and have an exceptionally large vocabulary. Have you ever had anything expensive stolen from you? Not from me specifically, but our basketball hoop was stolen from my childhood home. I doubt it was very cheap. Do you understand/notice when someone’s using sarcasm? Usually, anyway. When was the last time you were fooled? HAHA there was this drama video suggested to me on YouTube that involved Mark in the title, and I was mega confused and inevitably clicked. Now it's basically a YouTube meme just how "perfect" Mark is, so there was no real drama; apparently some newer fans are just upset at him for playing the sequel to HuniePop, a very sexual puzzle/dating game that's honestly entertaining and can be really funny. Like... he's played the original and despite the discomfort of some scenes (which are censored, mind you), he still had fun, and it was a big hit on his channel. So him playing the sequel isn't surprising, but apparently some people got shit to say. What first Impression do you hope you make with other people? Something along the lines of "wow, she's very nice." Have you ever thought about how you make other people feel/think? Well of course. I think everyone should take time to consider this. What is your stance on getting revenge? A petty waste of time. Any wise/truthful/witty quotes that you live by? Ha, another Mark answer. He once gave the casual innuendo of, "Life's hard; shouldn't you be, too?" (this might have actually been in a HuniePop video!), but when you take the... uh... sexual theme out of it, it's a good way to look at life???? Have tough skin, unmoving willpower, y'know, that stuff. Who was the last person you sat beside at a restaurant? My sister Ashley. Spongebob or Patrick? Patrick is a whole-ass mood. Would you rather watch little kid’s cartoons, older kid’s cartoons, or adult cartoons? Hm. Probably little kid's, given my love for Pokemon. How about watching regular cartoons or anime? Anime. Who is the last person you spent money on? Myself. Do you own a copy of Roller Coaster Tycoon? No; I had SeaWold Tycoon instead. I loved that game. Do you have any birth marks in embarrassing places? No. Have you used Limewire before? Of course. Free music for the low price of a catastrophic virus. :^) When was the last time you required a band-aid? I think when I cut one of my toenails way too short. Are you afraid of snakes? Oh no! I adore them so, so very much. Not saying I'm gonna go scoop up the first copperhead I find herping or something, but I love and respect them so very much. They are such fascinating animals. If you believe in reincarnation, what animal would you want to become? I don't think I believe in reincarnation, but hypothetically, maybe a lioness. Who do you tell everything to? Pretty much whoever reads these surveys, haha. Did you have candles on your birthday cake? Not my most recent one. Exactly, how old are you? I just turned 25 years and one month old. Have you ever been bitten by anything? Besides bugs, I don't think so. I've had cats and dogs playfight with me, but none have ever seriously bitten me with actual effort. Do you wear hats? No. What was the last song you sang along to? "Lunchbox" by Marilyn Manson. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years time? I'd like to be, but idk if it's realistic.

[science-lings]

You have made me curious. Please tell me about your oc's! What are their names? Why? Are they from a specific fandom or from a world of your own making? What do they look like? What is thier favorite fruit/color/food/drink? You made a spidersona a while back, right? Have you developed them more or have you moved on? (Sorry theese are a lot of questions at once you don't have to awnser all of them if u don't want to lol)

Okay so I have a great many main ocs so I’ll make little intros for them that answer each question lol

also here’s a link to the masterlist that might be more helpful and less rambly lol, it also links to art of the characters if you’re interested:

OC MASTERLIST

First of all, we have Rosalia (Rose) Scarlett Dawn who has healing powers, she (or at least her main design) started out as the spidersona you mentioned, but she evolved beyond even marvel oc territory lol. I draw her the most, she’s the one with red fading into white hair and sectoral heterochromia/ gold eyes, you can probably find her very easily on my art account @sciencelings-arts. Her image is also what I use as the icon for my writing account @sciencelings-writes which was a commission I got done for her last Halloween. She has become a very different character, although I still really vibe with her spidersona origins. She exists in the marvel universe as a SHIELD agent that does her best to use her powers for good but once SHIELD falls she works for Tony Stark and the Avengers as their on-call medical professional as she is kind of the expert in weird shit like injuries and sickness that originate from magic or alien stuff. Her sister Artemis also works for SHIELD as a field agent and does not have powers. Their relationship is kinda complex and depends on the universe that they’re in, like my original series is set in a bunch of different universes as I don’t want to constrict myself with just writing fantasy or sci-fi or whatever. Anyway Rose is a lesbian with underestimated powers and all that kind of shit. She’s fruity, they say an apple a day keeps the doctor away but she is the doctor and she will consume any apple within her eyesight. 

Second of all, this one will be shorter, Andromeda Starling, Basically her parents were scientists for hydra and she found out and ran away, resulting in her getting lost in space and gaining shapeshifting powers that evolve from partial shifts like gills and wings to full transformations like turning into a dragon because she wants to. She’s a sapphic asexual and is endgame with Rose, Her image is on my art blog (linked above) and my rarely used OC blog @sciencelings-ocs, After her transformation, her blood turned purple and her eyes turned purple and all her hair turned a cold white. She actively avoids going to earth and is the basic lone wolf type that comes across as mean but it’s mostly due to trauma and mental illnesses. She kicks ass and has no idea how to talk to people. She likes space fruit and actually knows how to cook space food. 

Next, we have Adisa Crow AKA Doctor Plague who is Rose’s nemesis, She got her powers from trying to recreate Rose’s powers within her and it going very wrong. Her powers can reverse other character's powers and skills, whether that’s a direct opposite like making a fire-themed character control ice or whether it’s just twisting the power against them, like making Andromeda’s shapeshifting uncontrollable as her power normally relies on her focus and complete control. But her powers come with a price as they are constantly affecting her, giving her hallucinations and manipulating her thoughts and emotions drastically. She wears a plague doctor mask when in full supervillain mode. She and Rose have a full friends to lovers to enemies to friends kind of arc as when she is released of her powers she might be forgivable with a whole lot of therapy. She only drinks Redbull and coffee. 

speaking of therapy, next we have Alexandria Iriklitis. She’s a superhuman therapist with a magic voice. She mostly uses her voice to manipulate emotions but it’s powerful enough to levitate objects and break glass, and even bring down buildings and stuff. She has very colorful hair and very solid black geometric tattoos all over her body. She’s not normally a fighter type of character but she does appear as a peacock siren bard in the fantasy au and that comes with having wing arms and a big dramatic peacock tail. She is the only emotionally stable one usually but she’s not perfect and although it takes a lot to rile her up, she can lose her shit and no one should be within fifty miles of her when that happens. 

Next, we have Ma’at Ramses who is a necromancer goth mom who adopts death kids that are ostracised from the normal magic organizations. She has a magic sword hilt that shifts into different weapons at will and a magic helmet that resembles an Egyptian pharaoh's crown that gives her extra abilities. She’s constantly in contact with the dead and her mission is to give them peace but more and more keep coming to her for help and no matter how much she works, she is never finished.  She constantly feels the rage from the dead that need to be avenged and it takes tremendous control to not take it out on the people around her. Eventually, she figures out that those feelings are not her own and she can control how much they affect her and she becomes a much less angry person. She’s kinda morally gray as she has no qualms about things like murder of she decides that the person really deserves it. She really hates injustice and doesn’t just sit around for people change and you know, heavily bigoted politicians just disappear sometimes, that’s just how life is. 

Next is Diana Schmitt, a mutant who can control the heat of objects (mostly metal and glass) and the molten outcome. She’s heavily scarred on half of her body including her face and she’s missing an arm and a leg that she replaced with layered metal and glass prosthetics. She’s trans and sapphic because I can’t make cishet characters to save my life. She uses her powers to make weapons and tools as she has big blacksmith energy. also, she's six feet tall and super buff. She's the whole gentle giant type and is super friendly. Her scars and limb loss are from a malicious attack with ice which causes her to hate any kind of cold and even makes ice a trauma trigger for her. She hates the winter and tries her best to avoid cold places. She is immune to incredibly high heat and has literally slept inside of a volcano with a magma blanket. cozy. 

Lastly (I think) we have Guinevere (Gwen) Kaimana. She’s an actual mermaid. and a Pirate. She can control the sea and temporarily turn her tail into a skirt over fishnet tights covering human legs. When out of the water she has to take special care to be very hydrated. She can faint if lacking enough water in her body.  She has Polynesian tattoos on her arm and torso that glow white in the dark but only when it’s very dark like when she’s very deep in the ocean. She wields dual scimitars (those curved pirate swords) and is bisexual. She has a very unearthly energy and is basically a myth to the people on land, but on the seas, she’s known as the Queen of the Seas and is feared by the people who don’t know her. She has big found family energy with her crew and mostly just focuses on saving sea life and causing trouble for the us military because she thinks it's funny. They tend to overreact and try to find her and “bring her to justice” but they can never find her, no matter how much they search. Before becoming a pirate she had spent several unaging decades in isolation in the ocean before she was willing to associate with people again. Sometimes she gets confused by current events and technology when she visits the land but she hates showing it. 

[jaeyleo]

Can we know what type of sadness each of the other dolls were made of? 👀 Also, how tall and what do they look like?

heck yes! ill do magic first, in age order. this is a pretty long post but i’m on mobile so i can’t put a read more, sorry about that! let’s get to it then.

Magic

jackie- jackie was the first to be made. he was created when anti had just ran away from his human friend, because his presence was literally destroying their mind. he was so unbelievably torn and felt so disgusted with himself bc he hurt someone like that, without even meaning to like his very existence is just toxic for humans to be around, yanno? anyway so he made jackie out of helplessness, wanting to help the human and save everyone from him bc he hated himself SO much. jackie came out to be extremely vigilant to emotional sadness, he is ALWAYS trying to help others, keep them happy, be a friend! he is protective and is a very good doll to sit and talk to. he was literally made to be a friend and to save people from sadness, he was made to be superhero!

marvin- marvin was made from anti feeling pretty lonely as well. he wanted another friend for jackie, another friend for him. he felt so exhausted of being alone from the outside world, so bored of himself, he needed another friend! more company! he’s very sad and jackie needs someone else to talk to, too!! so marvin came out to be very sleepy, always wanting to be around people, very warm and loving and wanting to entertain. he seeks a little danger because for a doll, danger = the most fun. i’m still working out just how he was made so some of this maaayyy change!

henrik- henrik was made out of fear and emotional numbness. fun fact: he was the only doll anti was not crying at all when made. anyway, anti was feeling very hurt inside, like he needed someone to fix him, hes so broken, even humans, the things he sees as so interesting and he wants to talk to SO bad, hes too broken to be around!! but he didn’t want anyone to help him bc again, anti’s energy is toxic to humans, no matter how nice he is and he didn’t want to hurt us. so henrik came out to be very touch averse, very quiet, not one for attention but still craving it like CRAZY. he is usually pretty closed off, but he really likes hanging around chase or just being in the same room as the others.

chase- i know i just talked about him but ima copy paste what i said so i can have them all together! also i didn’t state this before but henrik and chase really like hanging around eachother bc their energies attract eachother a LOT, it sometimes feels they were made for eachother. ANYWAY: anti made chase when he was incredibly sad, like, he was sobbing his eyes out through the whole process of making chase. he missed his old human friends, he missed a home he never had. he was extremely lonely and wanted people to love and show him love, and a TON of it bled through to the doll bc he was feeling it so strong. chase came out a crybaby, very clingy and needing affection, scared of everything and always always trying to make people happy. chase’s emotions are the most sensitive out of the whole group, and he did develop his own personality traits like the other egos, (example, the amount of pure love and warmth he holds is all his own) but those ones are the ones that show the most since it’s why he was made in the first place.

jameson- jameson was made from anti feeling completely isolated from the world, completely shut out. he can’t speak to humans like he wants to, he can’t make friends like he wants to, he cant ask for help. jameson was made with a little anger and a lot of pain, the tears that were shed during jameson’s making were not sad. so jameson came out to have no voice, but PLENTY of words to say. he seeks danger, he seeks excitement! no regard for rules, he actually likes to see scratches and chips on himself, tells how much of a life he’s lived!! no don’t patch him up henrik he wants the mark- nooooo!!! he gets the strings on him (like we saw in the ask event) a LOT.

Physical Appearances

jackie is just below three inches, where most of the dolls sit. broad shoulders, and very stronk!! really likes his superhero get up!

marvin is more round, kinda chubby, he has a soft tummy and he’s a bit taller than three inches. his hair reaches his shoulders and he kinda slouches sometimes bc hes so sleeby

henrik is always standing real straight, he is exactly three inches. real lean and skinny, glasses are just a liiitle too big so hes always pushin them up!

chase is teeny and bouncy!! he’s like two and a half inches, i’m still debating whether or not he’s taller than james, but for now let’s say he’s the smallest one in the group! round and has more blush on his cheeks than the others. hes the only one with no facial hair painted onto his face.

jameson is real skinny and small, sits just past chase’s height, hes closer to jackie’s (again still debating but this is lore for now.) hes got an innocent look to him but something about the way he moves and smiles tells u hes up to somethin sneaky!

sorry this post was so long, thanks again for asking!!

[him-e]

Hi, I'm the anon who wrote the 5 asks about the Dany plotline and GRRM. I'd like to apologize to u for lashing out, it was uncalled for and u have every right to state those opinions regardless of what I (or anyone else) think. Feeling hurt by the show wrt Dany's story made me react badly to the idea that it was actually acceptable, especially coming from someone whose ideas I appreciate so much and have spent hours invested on. You can answer them, delete them, idk, I just wanted to say sorry.

No need to apologize, anon! I’m currently on semi-to-full hiatus and that’s why I’m being so slow at answering messages—and yeah, I understand the frustration completely, and I don’t blame you for it. ;))

I’m going to answer your ask anyway. Long reply after the cut:

I hope this doesn’t come off as offensive or confrontational bc that’s not the point, I’ve enjoyed reading your ASOIAF/GoT and TB metas for years and would not reply to them if I weren’t invested on them. That said, I’d like to ask why do you insist on 1) arguing that Dany’s dark turn was reasonable if you don’t hate her and 2) defending D&D and blaming GRRM for what happened on the show. When it comes to 1), sure, Dany might *accidentally* burn KL, but to willingly choose to burn thousands of innocents? She may accept that some casualties would have to occur, but not in the way that the show presented (in that she had the choice to not kill anyone but did). You argue that that direction was valid of because of the recurring theme of how power corrupts, but then I’d argue, what if it were Sansa, another character very much involved in the world of politics? Would you be ok if people argued that it’d make sense for her to give up her ideals and become just as power-hungry and cynic and bitter as Littlefinger? Probably not; what’s the point if those characters become their worst possible selves? Dany was made a villain, was implied to be mad and was called “your satanic majesty”. I really can’t see how you could call those writing decisions valid. When it comes to 2), I’m not saying GRRM is perfect, he’s been quite callous in the book series and especially in F&B when it comes to social issues, but D&D are also professional writers with critical thinking skills and moral values of their own who could have tried to alleviate the problems in the books and not made things even worse. That’s why I don’t get why you’re blaming GRRM for what D&D wrote when the former wasn’t even involved in the ending’s writing process aside from possibly giving them an outline of what happens. GRRM should be criticized for what he wrote and will write, and the finale may have feel been a product of his ideas, but he still has no (moral or legal) responsibility in helping to make the TV show better or worse.

The reason why I maintain that the show’s ending is a (badly written) version of GRRM’s ending is that I can 100% see Martin’s blueprint in the climax+anticlimax structure of the season. The way it twists the audience’s expectations and delves into what happens AFTER the final battle is won, the way it subverts the most reliable narrative conventions and, instead of building up in a crescendo towards a final spectacle where the heroes would sacrifice their lives to save the world in a blaze of glory, it shifts gears almost unpleasantly, slows down to show what happens to them once their heroic purpose is fulfilled and zooms in on their identity crisis, their depression and isolation and sudden lack of purpose… it’s all too deliberate, and IN MY PERSONAL OPINION it’s done with a vision in mind—something I don’t believe d&d would spontaneously put any effort in, especially not if GRRM had already served them a perfectly fine, crowd-pleasing endgame involving Dany’s heroic sacrifice against the Others.

I understand my stance might come across as “defending d&d and blaming GRRM”, but I’m really not? I’ve often repeated how I believe d&d messed things up and that GRRM’s version will make infinitely more sense and be infinitely better written, and I’m sure he will avoid the pitfalls of cynical, circular storytelling, because he’s ultimately a better writer and someone who believes in idealism and true heroism even as he deconstructs it. How can the overall narrative remain uplifting & give a message of hope and faith for humanity while still telling a story that ends with Dany’s descent into “true villainy” (but haven’t we repeated ad nauseam that heroes and villains are too reductive categories for asoiaf?), I don’t know, but it’s not my job to figure it out, and I ultimately trust & respect Martin’s vision and ability to tell the story HE wants.

sure, Dany might *accidentally* burn KL, but to willingly choose to burn thousands of innocents? She may accept that some casualties would have to occur, but not in the way that the show presented

1) I’ve always conceded that, while I think the gist of the storyline is Martin’s, there’s absolutely no guarantee that the battle of King’s Landing will go as we’ve seen in the show, or even happen at the same point of the story (for one thing, Young Griff & JonCon will probably be involved, and that seems more likely to happen before, and not after, the war for the dawn);

2) That said, what I’m relatively confident of, at this point, is that Dany will NOT die in the WftD as a self sacrificial hero (this is entirely FANON SPECULATION, and people treating it like a fixed point in the universe, something the narrative is “inevitably” building towards, is one of the reasons the fandom seems unable to critically analyze show!Dany’s evolution without going hysterical about it and resorting to no true scotsman arguments. I’ve often complained about the dangers of elevating fan theories to canon status, and trust me I never wanted to go full cassandra about this, but here we are). The details and plot points leading up to this might be wildly different from the show’s version, but I think Dany will survive the WftD, which will leave her directionless and purposeless and doubting the truth of her heroic destiny for the first time in her life after she hatched the dragons, and that she’ll cross the ultimate moral horizon in a hail mary to restore that sense of self, that sense of purpose, completing her parabola from princess in rags, to breaker of chains, to conqueror, to savior of humanity, to conqueror again, to TRAGIC HERO. How can this be a valid writing decision, you asked—well, why shouldn’t it? Is something only valid as long as it pleases the audience? What screams tragic hero more than the hero turning into the very thing she swore to eradicate, and realizing it only when it’s too late? There’s something genuinely chilly in Dany’s “if I look back, I’m lost” refrain. This is the mantra of someone who thinks the only way to stay alive is to cross one threshold after the other. So far this coping mechanism has brought her higher, and higher, and higher. But what if it will be her downfall? “I tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell”, indeed;

3) Dany’s burning KL *accidentally* is like Stannis burning Shireen “but only if the circumstances are dire enough / the stakes are high enough”. No offense, but this is typical stan logic: you admit the possibility that your faves might go through a dark phase but you don’t want to have to unstan them, so you want them to do bad things for good reasons, or because there’s no other choice, or because “they didn’t know”. That’s understandable, but I don’t think Martin is the type of writer to give his character free passes or soften the blow of their moral crucibles like that. This is NOT to say that the show did Dany’s dark turn WELL, because it DIDN’T—her motivations were all over the place, the turning point (the bells) wasn’t believable because it lacked connection to her character arc, the narrative backed away from showing the attack from her pov which betrays the writers’ inability to make sense of this psychological downfall from HER perspective, etc. But to say “Dany will NEVER! BURN! INNOCENTS! ON PURPOSE!” sounds very, very premature to me.

(re: Sansa, hasn’t power corrupted her too, to an extent? Hasn’t she lied, schemed, manipulated, spilled secrets, in order to restore & secure the Stark hold on the North? Isn’t she queen, in part, because the rest of her family was scattered at the four corners of the known world? I’m not particularly happy with the way she was written this season, and I think some of her choices were questionable; but at the same time I reject the idea that a character ending up more flawed, or morally ambiguous, or less likeable than they were at the beginning must necessarily be bad storytelling)

I’m not saying GRRM is perfect, he’s been quite callous in the book series and especially in F&B when it comes to social issues, but D&D are also professional writers with critical thinking skills and moral values of their own who could have tried to alleviate the problems in the books and not made things even worse. That’s why I don’t get why you’re blaming GRRM for what D&D wrote when the former wasn’t even involved in the ending’s writing process aside from possibly giving them an outline of what happens. GRRM should be criticized for what he wrote and will write, and the finale may have feel been a product of his ideas, but he still has no (moral or legal) responsibility in helping to make the TV show better or worse.

Martin is not responsible of the show’s writing, but he is responsible of the outline he gave to the showrunners, and right now I have no reason to believe they didn’t follow it, at least for the most part. For years I’ve been told that “the show is not the books”, and while that’s certainly true, I can’t, and won’t, separate the show from the books when it comes to book speculation, because the show is still for all intents and purposes an ADAPTATION of the book series, and while it’s irresponsible to expect it to be a 1:1 transcription of what will happen in TWOW and ADOS, it’s also equally (imo) irresponsible to act like the two canons have nothing to do with each other and that it’s stupid to use the show as a resource for book speculation. If people want to pretend the show never happened, good for them, but that’s not the way I think, personally. I don’t blame GRRM for the show’s faults, and my reservations are actually 90% about the EXECUTION of the plot which is ENTIRELY on d&d, but there’s a 10% of my concerns that is about the IDEA in itself, regardless of context and execution—the idea of the story ending with a bittersweet anticlimax involving the death/downfall of the MOST PROMINENT FEMALE HERO OF THE SERIES, who is also the carrier of the most subversive anti-establishment political message in the story.

tldr: I’m not criticizing GRRM for what he hasn’t written yet, but I can certainly criticize him for what I think is a (however botched) adaptation of his outline, if the main selling points of said outline are questionable in themselves. No one can convince me that GRRM told d&d that Jon and Dany would die heroically to save the world and they ARBITRARILY decided to fuck it up for shock value or whatever, and just accidentally stumbled onto a more subversive and provocative ending than what Martin HIMSELF was planning. (that would make them two geniuses, even if the execution sucked, lol)

and if i’m wrong about it, well:

but until then…