#endless death vs endless life

[ragnorfalling]

the gods are bound by simple rules but by what rules does the god of death abide by besides their own inevitability

[thirdtimed]

unfortunately if i ever developed the lifeseries orv au in my head in earnest i would in no capacity whatsoever manage to be normal about it at all and like. i mean it

[misojunnie]

KEROSENE 𖣂

there’s a fine line between delusion and reality.

jake sim was your boyfriend. park sunghoon was your best friend. neither knew about each other. you weren’t sure where your heart belonged, and you watch as your life begins to tear in half from the secrecy and guilt. but just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, an earth-shattering secret changes everything.

pairing: bf!jake vs. bsf!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: psychological thriller, horror, love triangle (kinda… you’ll see)

warnings: violence/death, heavily implied mental illness, very psychological, cheating (?) ig, kinda hoon focused….(sorry), enha’s personalities and backstories are not a reflection of reality, it’s just a story

featuring: enhypen

playlist: it was only a dream by joey quinones, S.D.O.S by alex g, back to black by amy winehouse, somebody that I used to know by gotye, I was only temporary by my head is empty, only you (and you alone) by the platters

word count: 9.9k

taglist ! @enhacolor @jwnghyuns @adoredbyjay @theothernads @firstclassjaylee @dollschan @enreveriee @surrik-i @jwonistic @laurradoesloveu @laylasbunbunny @tmtxtf @shixna606 @kumiwon @heeaxvhhoon

network tags: @kflixnet @k-vanity @k-radio @enhypennetwork

see the trailer.

a/n: hello yall! sorry these fics are taking so long,,,pls still look forward to more, I got a couple lined up! and p.s., look for foreshadowing in this one ;) there’s lots of hints leading up to the plot twist! <3

The flames burned bright, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the crackling fire. The yellow and orange flames flashed like rubies, licking the dark sky, illuminating the beach as you watched them burn. It was like a dance, the way the fire swayed in the wind.

“You okay?” a voice broke you out of your trance as Jake planted a kiss on your cheek. You snapped out of it, smiling up at him as he reached for your hand, clasping it gently in his. He sat down on the sand beside you.

Jake Sim. A year older than you, the sweetest boy you had met in your entire life. He had sparkling eyes full of youth, a smile that could make angels sing, and a calmer temperament than anyone you’d seen in your 20 years of age. You were lucky enough to call him your boyfriend.

You had always been a rather quiet person, but Jake was the opposite. Talkative and popular, he had a seemingly endless amount of friends, many of which threw parties like the one you were at tonight. You grew to enjoy the nights spent at bonfires, house parties, the various celebrations Jake invited you to.

Many people thought you were polar opposites, but that was what made you perfect for each other. You didn’t make friends easily, but he was happy to share his. He wasn’t very emotional, but you didn’t mind coaxing him into confessing what he was feeling. He helped you come out of your shell, you helped him learn to love the peaceful moments. After all, they say opposites attract. And that was certainly true for you.

You had only been dating for a year and a half, but all your friends told you he was the one. And you were beginning to really believe it.

“I’m good.” you replied sweetly. You and Jake’s friends were laughing and dancing boisterously, but you didn’t feel like joining in on the fun. The fire was giving you plenty of company, and an unsettling feeling was creeping into your heart. Maybe it was the Halloween season, or maybe your doubts went deeper than that.

“I’ll sit with you then.” Jake offered kindly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, and you leaned into him gratefully.

You were in love with Jake, you knew that. He was the first thing you thought of in the morning and the last at night, the main topic of all your conversations. He was sweet, thoughtful, smart, funny, and had every quality you ever wanted from a boyfriend. He was perfect, yet somehow, this didn’t feel right. Six months later, and you were beginning to have doubts. You had doubts in all of your past relationships, but none of them were as good as this one. Despite that, something was off. You could feel it.

For now, you tried to put it behind you, letting the fire and Jake’s warm touch comfort you as you watched the dancing flames.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

It was Sunday morning. You were looking forward to a day of no classes, and some alone time. While you loved being with Jake, you had spent everyday together for the past two weeks, and you were craving a little time to yourself.

It was a bit of a drive, but you suddenly wanted to go to your favorite bakery, picking up a fresh baguette to bring home, plus a few pastries for yourself. After that, you visited a nearby park, sitting on a bench alone.

You let the fresh air revitalize you, your hair floating in the breeze. There was hardly anyone in the park, the locals deterred by the fog and biting cold, but you had always enjoyed gloomy weather. You took a croissant out of the ribbon wrapped box, taking a bite and relishing in the peaceful feeling of being alone.

You closed your eyes briefly, and when you opened them, you were put out to discover someone standing before you.

He was extraordinarily good looking; it was the first thing you noticed about him. With his kind eyes, tall stature, and silky dark hair, he looked like an angel appearing out of the fog. He was standing a couple of feet away from the bench you were sitting at, looking at you directly with a soft smile.

“Oh,” you said, startled. “Hi.” You weren’t sure if you were supposed to address him, but he was clearly waiting to say something to you.

“Hi,” he replied. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just liked your shirt.” You looked down at yourself, completely forgetting about your ripped tee. You noticed his neat grey sweater and ironed jeans, wearing a thin silver chain around his neck, and you grew suddenly embarrassed about your messy outfit. He smelled of lilies and fresh paper, the kind of scent that came from a cologne but seemed to be natural.

“You like Amy Winehouse?” you asked, and he nodded excitedly.

“Love her. Valerie was my top song for like, three years in a row.” He seemed eager to share his love of jazz music, and if you were a little more of a senseless person, you could’ve fallen in love right then and there.

“What are the odds?” you said, not sure how to respond. He smiled. Then he held out his hand.

“I’m Sunghoon.” You laughed at the odd gesture, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and his hands were warm.

“Nice to meet you, Sunghoon. I’m y/n.”

“Beautiful name.” he said kindly, and you blushed, which you would never admit. You were hoping this nice stranger only had friendly intentions; if not, you’d have to tell him to go away, and you were beginning to enjoy his sudden company. “Do you go to the college down the road?”

“No, I actually live in the next town over.” you nodded in the direction you had come from. “I just drove here to visit.”

“Alone?” you looked away in embarrassment, and he gestured to the bench. “Can I sit with you?” It was an odd request, and this was a total stranger, but he seemed nice enough. So you accepted, nodding your head. “So, what's so appealing about this little old town that you’d come all the way here?”

“My favorite bakery, and some much needed alone time.” you admitted, and he raised a brow. “I don’t get much time to myself these days.”

“That’s unfortunate. I have the opposite problem.” he said jokingly, and you opened your box of pastries, removing another croissant.

“Well, you have a new friend now.” you handed it to him, and he looked at the offer in surprise, before accepting it with a wide smile.

“Thanks, y/n. I could use a friend right now.” You smiled in response.

It was shocking how easy it was to get along with Sunghoon. Most of the time, you were horribly averse to meeting strangers; you didn’t know how to act, what to say, what to do. But speaking with him was smooth, it felt as if you’d known each other for years. It was almost concerning how familiar he seemed.

At the end of your conversation, when your phone started flooding with texts from Jake, you took your leave. You offered your number to continue talking, but he told you with regret that he didn’t own a phone, a rare and oddly endearing quality. You accepted, standing to walk away.

“Y/n!” he called after you, just as you were about to leave. You turned around, and he waved at you with a smile, his dark hair blowing in the cold wind. “See you around, okay?” You smiled back, waving.

You didn’t know if you’d ever see this familiar stranger again, but you couldn’t help but hope you did. You had never felt a friendship bloom that quickly, and you didn’t want to let go of it. But you would have to leave it up to fate, hoping you would see Sunghoon again soon, wherever or whenever that may be.

You walked away in a significantly better mood, your box of pastries in your hand. As you got into your car, you noticed the ajar lid, reaching to close it, when your brows furrowed. You opened it, noticing that not a single croissant was missing. Not even the one you offered to him, the one you watched him eat as you chatted.

You blew it off, shutting the lid firmly and turning on your stereo, blasting Amy Winehouse as you drove home to your boyfriend.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jake was taking you on a date. Between your busy schedules and booming social lives, it was infrequent that you had time for an actual date. Most of the time, your nights would end in cuddling sessions at your shared house, watching a movie or playing your favorite board games. But today, he had a late lunch reservation for your favorite fancy restaurant, and he insisted that you both dress up in your nicest clothes. You wondered if you had forgotten about an anniversary or event, but he assured you he just wanted to celebrate your relationship.

Sometimes, you wondered how you could’ve gotten this lucky.

You put on Jake’s favorite dress of yours, a red silk dress that reached just below your knees. You hadn’t found an event that suited it in a while, and you were excited to bring it out of retirement.

“You look beautiful.” Jake said, holding your hand as you walked through the streets together. You garnered a lot of attention, a couple as beautiful as you were. Passersby stared, whispering with envy at your youth and glamor.

“You’re being so sweet today.” you giggled, your fingers clutching a single red rose that Jake had brough you, one that matched your dress perfectly.

“We don’t go on fancy dates often.” He kissed your knuckles. “I wanted to make today special.” Your heart filled up with fire as you smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Your lipstick lingered there, and you considered wiping it off for a moment, before deciding not to. You thought it suited him.

You were actually happy. Finding joy in relationships had always been hard for you; your brain decided to shut them down somehow. Whether going ghost, shutting down, even firing off a quick apathetic text, you found a way to escape your happiness. You weren’t sure why. But you were finally ready to retire from being a heartbreaker; Jake was really the only one you needed.

From behind your boyfriend, you caught a flash of something familiar. The scent of lilies, a grey sweater, silky black hair.

You craned your neck to get a better look, Jake watching you in confusion as you waited for him to turn towards you. He glanced at something, his face turning just a couple of inches, and it was indeed Sunghoon. His sharp nose, wide eyes, you’d recognize that face anywhere, it was the one you were hoping to see for days on end.

Jake followed your gaze, turning back to you in puzzlement.

“What are you looking at?” Upon his words, you shook yourself out of your trance, shaking your head with a smile.

“Oh, I just thought I saw someone I knew.” Jake nodded in relief, his grip on your hand growing a bit tighter as you continued to walk, Sunghoon left behind as the two of you fled the scene.

You wanted to reconnect with Sunghoon, but Jake was here, and he was more important to you. For now, you’d just have to hope that you’d see him again, in another time, another place.

As you walked away, Sunghoon turned around, his eyes following as you and Jake walked down the street, the red silk of your dress flashing under the afternoon sun.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jake was paying the bill for your meal. By now, the sun was beginning to set, fading slowly behind the horizon as the sky grew pink and orange. You had stepped out of the restaurant for a smoke break, waiting for him as you lit a burning cigarette. The flame of your lighter danced in the wind, swaying side to side before you put it out. Jake was trying to convince you to quit smoking, but old habits die hard, and you were craving a moment of peace.

Your eyes landed on the sidewalk, watching the fall wind sweep golden leaves across the pavement as you took another drag.

“You’re a smoker?” You startled at the sound of a sudden voice, but that surprise melted into delight when you saw who spoke to you.

“Oh, Sunghoon! I didn’t think I’d see you again.” He shrugged in response, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Must be my lucky day.” he replied, a smile on his face, one that you mirrored. You reached down to put out your cigarette, but he waved for you to stop. “No need to stop. I don’t mind.”

“Are you a smoker?” you asked, bringing it to your lips for another drag, and he watched you do so, seeming indifferent to your question.

“Not quite. But I don’t mind if you do it in front of me.”

“Most people hate it.” you chuckled, finishing your cigarette and putting it out on the sole of your heeled shoes. “I suppose the smell is a bit off putting.”

“I disgaree. I like the smell of smoke. It’s relaxing.” Sunghoon shrugged, and a smile grew on your face as you crossed your arms.

“I agree.” You found that it was, yet again, incredibly easy to talk to him. You’d only met twice, but you and Sunghoon already had a lot in common. Your taste in music, pastries, and your partiality to cigarette smoke were only a few of your many interests you’d discussed that seemed strikingly similar.

“So, what are you dressed up for?” he asked, and you were reluctant to answer. “Seems like a special occasion.”

“I suppose it is.” you said mysteriously, and he smiled. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Jake’s dusty blond hair through the glass window as he collected his coat from the back of his chair. “I gotta go. But it was nice talking to you, again.” Both of you chuckled at that, and he stepped back to allow you room as you walked back to the door of the restaraunt.

“See you around.” he said, reminiscent of the first time you met, a grin on his face that almost looked childlike with eagerness. You smiled.

“See you around.”

And for the second time, you prayed that you would see your new friend again.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

After your recent encounter, you began seeing Sunghoon everywhere. In an empty aisle at the grocery store, the street behind your college, even in the area near where you lived. At first you considered that he might be following you, your meetings were so random and frequent, but he confessed at random that he didn’t live in the next town over after all. He lived in your town, not disclosing where, but telling you he was seemingly very close.

You began to enjoy your interactions with him more and more, your friendship growing stronger every day. You told him your genuine thoughts, and he gave you genuine advice. You didn’t often feel comfortable sharing things about yourself with people, but he weaseled his way into your mind almost concerningly easily. Other than Jake, he was the only person you felt like you could truly be yourself around. It was unheard of for you, knowing someone for only a month and feeling this comfortable around it. But you quickly transformed from strangers to the closest of friends.

Today was one of the lazy days where the two of you would lounge on the grass on your front lawn, sipping on coffee to warm yourselves in the cold. Well, you did; Sunghoon wasn’t fond of coffee. You had never invited him inside your house, it seemed too intimate of a line to cross while you had a boyfriend, who wasn’t home at the moment.

A boyfriend you still hadn’t told him about. But he hadn’t asked, so you assumed it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Are you worrying about something?” Sunghoon asked, laying on his back in the dewy grass. You were reading a book beside him while he stared at the gray sky.

“How did you know?” you asked, bemused, and he chuckled.

“I know everything going on in your head.” You nudged him in the shoulder, and he rolled over playfully, turning to his stomach.

“Maybe.” you replied vaguely, and he sat up on his elbows.

“What are you worrying about?” You didn’t respond.

You wanted to tell him about Jake, you really did. It’s not like you were embarrassed, or you wanted to hide him. You loved Jake, you’d be proud to tell anyone that. But you had this creeping feeling that it would affect your friendship, that Sunghoon wouldn’t be fond of knowing about him. Not in a romantic sense, no, you knew Sunghoon had no feelings for you, just as you had none for him. It was just a sinking dread.

“It doesn’t matter.” he said after a minute, rolling back onto his back, looking up at the sky as the clouds moved through the mist. “I bet I already know.”

“And why would you know?” you asked, your voice amused as you turned the page of your book. He grinned, but you didn’t see it.

“I told you. I know everything going on in your head.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You were acting differently, and Jake could tell from a mile away.

He knew you, and he knew your heart. He could tell when something was bothering you, when you were unusually excited, he detected every minor shift of emotion. But lately, he couldn’t put his finger on what was happening.

You were spending less time with him. You used to be one of those inseparable couples that spent all their time together, but now you were ditching him for study sessions, meetings with friends, excessive alone time. You barely shared things with him anymore; it was like your emotions were all dried up by the time you got home. You were affectionate, but it seemed thoughtless. Jake didn’t want to pry into your business, but he knew he had to find out the cause of your sudden change.

Because not only did Jake know when your emotions changed, he also knew when you were lying to him.

You had just left for a day to yourself, and Jake grabbed his keys from the coffee table, running to his car once he knew you had left for certain. He didn’t want to follow you, that was for certain, but he was terrified that the secret you were keeping from him was big. Maybe as big as infidelity.

His old car crept around the corner, slowly following you from the back of the empty street as you walked. Your headphones were in, and he prayed you wouldn’t turn back and recognize his car. The pit in his stomach grew enormously when you turned the corner, heading towards the busier streets. He followed.

Jake parked, watching with suspicion as you walked into a busy coffee shop. He leaned over the wheel from across the street, squinting his eyes to make you out from the crowd as you sat down at a small table, your coffee table.

He stayed there for nearly an hour, just watching. Waiting for someone to come meet you, a man, as he feared. But nobody came, just you alone at that small table, sipping your coffee.

He sighed, turning his car back on, a flood of relief and guilt consuming him as he pulled out of his spot, heading back home. Maybe you weren’t cheating, maybe you weren’t lying to him. He drove back home, his knuckles blanching as he gripped the wheel tightly, turning back onto your street.

But despite his relief, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

It was day 365 of knowing Park Sunghoon. The year had gone by in a flash, but it seemed almost too short. To you, it felt like you had known Sunghoon your entire life.

You spent a lot of time together. Attempting to fit him and Jake into your schedule proportionately had proven to be hard, but Sunghoon always managed to show up when you least expected it, yet exactly when you were thinking about him. Sometimes you wondered if he could read your mind, he knew you so well.

365 days had passed, and he began feeling more like your best friend with every day.

Today, you were at the park you first met at. Coincidentally, you had happened to be craving your favorite croissants, and Sunghoon, who conveniently showed up to your dorm just beforehand, had come with you. Now, you were sitting on a park bench, croissants in hand, eating and chatting as the sun began to set.

Dozens of people walked by, but they didn’t seem to pay any attention to either of you. As you watched a pair of twenty-something girls walk past, you wondered why girls never noticed your exceptionally handsome best friend. Maybe getting a girlfriend would be good for him. You wanted him to experience the same happiness that you had with Jake, who you were realizing you hadn’t seen in a while.

“Why don’t girls ever notice you?” you said without thinking, and Sunghoon snorted, setting down his croissant.

“Gee, thanks.”

“That’s not how I meant it.” you said defensively, and he smiled in amusement. “I mean, you’re tall, handsome, sweet. Girls should be all over you.”

“Well, you’re not.”

“That’s different.” you said cynically. “I’m your best friend.” He looked at you seriously, and you shrugged. “What?”

“Nobody knows I exist except for you.” You met his serious gaze, before laughing, and he smiled in response.

“You’re so weird.”

“I’m totally serious. Nobody notices me but you.” It was a strange thing to hear, but it was seemingly true. When you were with Sunghoon, nobody really seemed to notice him, to even see him. He was enormously skilled at fading into the background, going unnoticed by passersby. As he had told you, you were the only friend he had, which only made him more endearing in your mind. You had always had issues making friends, and with your main company being your outgoing boyfriend, it was nice to know someone who went through the same struggle.

Sunghoon was Jake’s complete opposite; he was much more like you. His dark hair contrasted Jake’s dusty blond. He was calm and quiet with a strange sense of humor, not constantly joyous and amused like Jake. In moments when Jake would’ve laughed, he frowned. When Jake would’ve frowned, he laughed.

“And why is that?” you finally replied, and he smiled mysteriously.

“That’s for you to find out.” You snorted, shouldering your bag as you got to your feet, brushing off your pants. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I should start heading home.” you said, checking the time on your watch and disappointed to see it was 7:45. You had plans with Jake at 7:30, and he wasn’t going to be pleased if you were any later than you already were. “Do you need a ride?” Sunghoon shook his head, leaning back against the bench as he looked up at you.

“No. I’ll make my way home.” You cocked your head at him, chuckling as you turned around, waving him goodbye.

“Suit yourself.” you said, and he waved at you as you walked down the street towards your parked car, a few blocks away, eager to get home to Jake before you miss more of your quality time. As you walked, you turned suddenly, gazing down the street at the park bench you had been just a moment before.

Sunghoon was gone.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

“You’re late.” Jake grumbled as you met him outside your home, a sheepish grin on your face. His hands were on his hips, but his disgruntled attitude faded when you pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, and he rested his hands on your waist. “What took you so long.”

“I got caught up with a friend. I hope I’m not too late.” you said, and he smiled, taking your hand as he led you down the driveway onto the sidewalk.

“Better late than never. Ready to go?” you nodded, and you began to walk, heading towards your favorite diner. You both had cars, but you preferred to walk. It allowed for more talking, more eye contact, more intimacy. It felt more real.

“You look really handsome today.” you said, pressing a hand against Jake’s cheek as he immediately grew warm at your compliment. Two years after you’d started dating, and sometimes you still made him feel like a schoolboy with a crush. He smiled with lovesickness.

“Mm, really?”

“Really.” you said, and he pressed a kiss to your lips, your hands swinging together in unison as you held them all the way to the middle of town.

You knew you loved each other, more than anything in the world. And virtually nothing could make you doubt that, or doubt each other. But what you didn’t know was that someone was watching you.

Sunghoon stared unrelentingly as you and Jake walked together. He walked twenty paces behind or so, his footsteps silent, so soft that not even grass bent upon him stepping on it. He watched as you talked, laughed, kissed, reveled passionately in each other's love. It was enviable, he thought.

As you shifted onto busier streets, he followed. Not a single passerby or stranger turned to look at him, nobody noticed as he weaved intricately through the busy crowds, following you and Jake who stumbled through them clumsily. He went completely undetected by everyone, even by you and your boyfriend. He was right when he said nobody noticed him but you; outside of you, his existence meant absolutely nothing.

He watched from outside the diner as you and Jake sat by the windows, sharing a milkshake with two straws like the cliche you were. You assumed Sunghoon didn’t know about your boyfriend; in fact, you’d been purposefully keeping it from him. But of course he knew about your boyfriend, as well as his name, as well as everything else there was to know about him. Sunghoon knew everything about you, and that even included your cheesy, hopelessly romantic boyfriend. As you laughed at Jake’s milk mustache, you looked happier than you’d ever been. Sunghoon frowned.

He knew he had to shut down that happiness somehow, he just wasn’t sure how to. Yet.

He eventually grew tired of seeing you smiling at your boyfriend, sharing meals and stories as the two of you laughed. It began to rain, but the falling droplets never touched his head, and he turned around to walk back home, to wait for you.

To wait for the next time you called for him.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Burn.

Burn.

Burn.

Let it all burn.

You awoke with a start, sweat matting your hair to your forehead. You sat up in bed, wiping the sweat off your face, looking beside you, flooded with relief when Jake was sleeping beside you peacefully.

You were having a nightmare. Your house was on fire and it was raging, the flames seemingly reaching the heavens as it slowly burned to a crisp. The fire was pulling you in, and for a moment you almost walked inside the burning building, until you heard Jake screaming. You snapped out of whatever trance you were in, running to the front of the house where the sound was coming from. In your front yard, Jake was bleeding, pools of blood surrounding him as he went still. And standing above him was Sunghoon, a bloody smile on his face as he slowly turned to you.

The image of his evil expression was burned into your memory, and you shook your head, carding a hand through your hair as you checked the time on the clock. It was 3:00 in the morning, but you knew you couldn’t go back to bed.

You crept out of bed as quietly as you could, careful not to wake your sleeping boyfriend as you pulled a sweater over your pajamas, walking down the stairs as they creaked, the sounds muffled underneath your slippers.

The cold morning breeze bit at you as you stepped out the front door, careful to lock it behind you. You were hoping a walk and a cigarette would help to clear your mind and calm you down.

You weren’t the type to be freaked out by nightmares, but this one felt hauntingly real. You could feel the warmth of the fire as your house went up in flames, the pure fear as Jake’s screams rang through the empty night. You tried to ignore it, lighting a cigarette and propping it in the corner of your mouth as you wandered the streets.

In your mindless wandering, you found yourself at a grassy park, ten or so streets down from your house. Nobody was here at this hour, and you walked through the trees and playgrounds until you reached a grassy hill that contained a familiar face.

You raised a brow in surprise as you watched Sunghoon sitting at the top of the hill, his back resting against a tree as he read a book, flipping the pages casually.

“What are you doing here? It’s 3 am.” you called to him, taking a drag when he turned to look at you and smiled.

“I don’t sleep.” he replied, his attention shifting back to his book. You climbed the hill slowly, your cigarette propped in your mouth as your slippers grew stained with the green dewy grass.

“What are you, a vampire?” you joked, sitting down beside him when you reached the top. You were hesitant to talk to him after your dream, but you did regardless, his hand reaching out to take a hit from your cigarette, his smile just as vivid as it was in your nightmare. You tried to brush it off. It was just a dream, after all.

“Not a vampire, no.”

“What are you reading?” you asked, and he shut the book, showing you the cover.

“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” he replied, and you nodded at him, impressed as you took your cigarette back from his hands.

“Ken Kesey. Nice.” He shrugged.

“It’s interesting. The main character hallucinates all kinds of shit.” You snort.

“I’ve read it.” He smiled, tucking the book away behind him. That smile, which had once seemed so pure, seemed malicious through the lens of your dream.

“I know.” You both grow silent, the sound of burning ash and your breathing being the only sounds in the quiet morning. The two of you watched the grass sway in the wind, completely undisturbed by the presence of other people.

“We run into each other a lot.” you said finally, Sunghoon turning to look at you. You were pensive, your cigarette burning out in your hand until the ash reached your fingers, and you crumbled it in your hand. “Do you sometimes wonder if we can read each other’s minds?” Sunghoon leaned back, closing his eyes against the breeze.

“I’ve never wondered that. I’ve always known it.” You looked at him, your brows drawn as you nudged him with your elbow, him laughing in response.

“You’re pretty strange, you know.”

“You’re pretty strange too. That’s why we like each other.” You couldn’t argue with that, so you didn’t. You just leaned back against the trunk of the tree, your shoulders touching as you and Sunghoon sat in silence, watching the sun slowly rise in the horizon.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jake was saying something to you, but you weren’t listening. Lately, you’d been having a hard time focusing on just about anything.

Your nightmare was persisting, coming back to haunt you every night. Ever since that first dream, your mind had been preoccupied with the image of that fire. The fear you felt in your dream crept up on you in your waking hours, the image of Sunghoon’s face burned into your eyes every time you closed them. And it certainly didn’t help that he’d been showing up more than usual, taking more of your time away from things that mattered, like the man in front of you.

You found that you were thinking about Sunghoon more than often. For the past year, he had been your best friend and nothing more, but now, you weren’t sure. His silky hair and mysterious smile kept you up at night, and the gleaming blood on his face as he smiled woke you up in the morning. There was something about him; you couldn’t explain it, but he drew you in just as strongly as that fire in your dream. And the guilt you felt for thinking about him so often was doing nothing to improve your mood, or your relationship.

“Y/n? Are you listening?” Jake asked frustratedly, snapping in your face. You came out of your trance, startling awake as you dropped the tea bag you were holding, the one that had been steeping in your tea for more than a couple minutes now. You threw it into the trash, your angry boyfriend following you as you sat down at the dining table. “I swear you don’t even listen to me anymore.”

“I’m trying to, Jake.” you said, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t even remember what you had been talking about, why he was mad at you in the first place.

“For the past week, you’ve barely spoken to me,” he said. Jake was rarely angry, almost never, but you could hear the resentment in his voice. “You don’t even look at him half the time when we’re together.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You felt hazy.

“Where are you going at dawn every morning?” Your gaze snapped to him, and his eyes were filled with a flurry of emotion; hurt, anger, sadness. “Every morning, you wake up at 3:00 and leave. You think I haven’t noticed?”

“I’ve been having nightmares. They wake me up.” you dismissed him, taking a sip of your tea and finding it had grown cold during your argument.

“You’re not cheating on me?”

“God, no, Jake.” you said, rubbing your forehead in frustration. “I’m just…I’m just confused right now.”

“Then please, tell me what’s going on!” he said, gesticulating in annoyance. “You won’t even speak to me lately. We used to talk all the time.” You considered telling him about Sunghoon, but this was not the time, nor place. It would only make him angrier, and you hated fighting with Jake more than anything.

“I can’t have this conversation right now.”

“Well, when are we going to have it? I mean, do you even love me anymore? You’ve been avoiding me nonstop.”

The past you would’ve fled, would’ve told yourself that this wasn’t worth the conflict and decided to run. You were used to running, but you were tired of it. The new you loved Jake, and you would get through whatever was stopping your relationship, regardless of how hard it was. And you knew you were the one to blame.

“Of course I love you. I’m sorry.” you said, standing up and abandoning your tea on the table. “I’m just going through a weird spot right now, and it’s hard to explain.” You placed a hand on Jake’s face, and he immediately softened. “Soon, I’ll tell you everything. I promise. I’m just in my own head right now.” He put his hand over yours, smiling tightly but accepting what you said, despite how much it hurt his heart to see you struggle in silence.

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine.” He pressed a kiss onto your hand. “And next time you have nightmares, please, wake me up. I’m happy to keep you company in the morning when you can’t sleep.” You smiled, kissing his cheek as you released him, grabbing your mug of tea and dumping it in the sink.

“How did I get so lucky?” Jake grinned at that, walking with you to the kitchen just to hold your hand, walking you to the living room as the two of you cuddled up on the couch together.

You tried to put it out of your head, but something was off. That little, self-sabotaging part of your brain was screaming, begging to be released, and you knew that somehow, it would manifest itself eventually.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Burn.

Burn.

Let it all burn.

Flames were eating away at your bed, and you stood in the doorway as it burned. The fire consumed the walls, your house and all its belongings being consumed by golden flames licking the sky with their enormous size. You watched as your closet, then the bed sheets, then the clock on your nightstand table reading 3:00 am. The fire spread until your room was consumed whole. The house was burning down. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Wake up!” a voice screamed, and you recognized it to be Jake’s through your trance. “Y/n, wake up!” You were confused, turning around to see him behind you, tugging at you, shaking your shoulders with vigor. There was desperation in his eyes, his eyebrows drawn as he shouted at you, desperately pulling, but you wouldn’t budge.

Shouldn’t he be dead by now? This wasn’t how the dream was supposed to go.

“Y/n, wake up!”

Something snapped, and suddenly you were awake, but the house kept burning. Wrathful fire ate away at the furniture and your bed, the walls beginning to collapse in on themself as the house moaned with the effort of keeping itself upright. The house shook, the walls caving in, Jake standing behind you in his pajamas, shocked awake, desperately trying to pull you away.

“Please, we have to get out! Now!”

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” you murmured, still in a sleepy haze. “Am I dreaming?” But it didn’t seem like a dream, no, it was all too real. Your house was on fire, and you began to cry, tears streaming down your face as you stared at your burning bedroom, paralyzed with grief.

Jake pulled violently on your arm, leading you out of the bedroom and through the house. It was full of fire, your staircase burning the bottoms of your feet as you both ran to the front door, flames licking your skin until you finally made it outside.

“What just happened?” you asked, your voice trembling as you both watched your house burn down, the framework being the only thing left. The fire let out a roar, the roof creaking before it crashed in on itself, the walls crumpling to the floor. The flames ate at the grass, igniting your yard and everything around, the ravenous fire slowly spreading across the ground. Somehow, only your house was the one ignited. Nothing else. “How…how did this happen?”

“I don’t know.” Jake replied mournfully, and you began to cry, your shoulders shaking as sobs wracked through your body, and Jake held you close, tears running down his cheeks as well.

You both watched the house you had so dutifully loved, and the relationship you’d made inside of it, burn to the ground, turned to ash and dust. It was all lost. And you knew it had something to do with you, the dreams you’d been having.

Somehow, you had this creeping feeling that the man with the bloody smile, the man who haunted your dreams, was at fault.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

The police said the fire was likely due to a pilot light and an excess of gas, some logical, reasonable explanation, but you weren’t listening. Jake was nodding along to their long-winded speech, but you were staring off into the distance, eyes zoned out on the wall of the police station where you sat.

You felt Jake grasp your hand, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin, but you were too enraged to even feel it. Sunghoon was at fault for this. You knew it. Your brain had been warning you, sending you fire-filled nightmares until they finally became reality. It was his fault. It was his fault.

And you were going to find him.

“Smoke break.” you muttered when your boyfriend and the police looked at you questioning, standing up in the middle of their explanation with your fists tightly clenched. You strode out, Jake covering for you, telling the police you were a smoker, you were stressed, all the things they wanted to hear. Their voices went silent as the door closed behind you and you walked right out of the station, not sure where you were going but knowing you’d run into him somewhere. You always did.

“Are you looking for me?” Sunghoon said, and you shrieked at the sound of his voice, startled. You had walked nearly five streets away, to that empty park you had seen him in just a couple of days previously, and there he was, sitting against the same tree at the top of the hill. You slowly walked up to him.

“Sunghoon.” your voice trembled as you spoke, with anger or fear, you weren’t sure. “Was it your fault?” He cocked his head at you, shutting his book.

“Was what my fault?” You shook your head at him.

“You know what I’m talking about. You always know. So tell me, was the fire your fault?” For a minute he didn’t respond, until his lips spread into a crooked grin, and you felt a shiver of fright run down your spine. You had never been scared of Sunghoon, not since you met him that day on the street, but now you felt pure fear when you looked into his eyes. That haunting smile had come to life, from your dreams into your reality, and although there was no blood, you could feel it in the way he looked at you.

“You ruined everything.” you said quietly, your shoulders trembling. “My house is gone. Burned to the ground.”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you actually cared about that house.” He stood, and you backed away from him, stumbling down the hill as he pressed towards you. “Or is it Jake that you’re really worried about?”

“What?”

“Don’t play games. I know about your boyfriend, I’ve known since the day we met.” You never told him about Jake, you were certain you had never slipped up.

“Have you been following me?” you asked, confused and frightened, and he smiled again, that same bloody smile.

“I don’t need to. I told you, I know everything about you.”

“I’m done with this. You’re crazy.” you said with finality, dizzy with rage and fear as you turned and walked away from him, your slow pace turning into a run as you sought to be as far from him as possible.

“No, I’m not. You are.” he called after you, but you didn’t hear it, running against the wind as the sun just began to come up, peeking over the cloudy horizon.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You didn’t see Sunghoon for a while after that. You and Jake rented a studio apartment at the edge of town, it being the only thing you could afford after you lost all the money that was tied up in the house. You were both depressed, but at least you were together.

Sunghoon’s actions weighed heavy on your mind. You didn’t tell Jake that he was the one to blame for the fire, you were afraid of how he would react. If you revealed you had been keeping Sunghoon a secret for this long, he might blame you for the house burning down, and where would you go from there? You had already lost your best friend, and you weren’t willing to lose your boyfriend too.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Jake said quietly. He was sitting on the couch, head in his hands, as he usually did when he had nothing to distract him. “You’re keeping something from me.” You didn’t respond, because you knew he was right. You were keeping something from him, something enormous, and it was eating away at you. “You won’t talk, you’re smoking more than usual, you’re withdrawn-”

“My house just burnt down, Jake.”

“It was my house too.” he said sharply, and you didn’t reply. You could feel a distance growing between you and Jake, getting wider with every day, and you didn’t know how to fix it. You were desperate to resolve this issue, but how could you tell him that you were to blame for the fire being lit?

“Tell me about your nightmares.”

“What?’ you said, your brows lifting in surprise. He looked up at you, his eyes pleading with you for any kind of response, something he could work with.

“You said you were having nightmares. Tell me about them.”

You didn’t want to, not at all, it would make you have to explain everything to him. But you owed him that, so you sat beside him. And you told him.

“Our house burnt down in your dream? Every night?” he asked, in shock that you could’ve predicted what happened. “And I died?”

You swallowed down your guilt. You kept out the part where Sunghoon was the one to kill him, just saying he had died somehow, but lying to him out loud felt much more horrible than just keeping things from him.

“Yeah. I don’t know why, it just happened.” You expected him to yell, to blame you, to say anything, but he didn’t. He just nodded, like he understood, and you heaved a breath of relief.

“Okay. Okay, I get it.” He abruptly stood, grabbing his keys, and you looked at him with confusion. “I’m going on a drive to clear my head. I’ll be back.”

As he said it, he walked out the door, and you prayed that he was right, that he really was going to come back.

After all the occasions of lying to him, it was Jake’s turn to lie to you. He attemped to keep the wheel steady as he searched for a psychologist, anyone who might be able to give him an answer about what was going on with you. He felt guilty, but that guilt began to slowly disappear as he pulled into the garage of a towering building, walking into the lobby and attempting to find someone who could help him. The secretary led him into a white room, a man sitting at a desk who smiled at him warmly, a kind gesture he was happy to receive.

“Jake? Sit down.” the man said, and Jake sat. “I’m Dr. Yang, but you can call me Jungwon if that makes you more comfortable.”

Jake nodded nervously, looking around the room, scared of the stale, white appearance. It was frightening, an unfamiliar territory that felt foreign to him. He felt like he was selling you out, like he was putting your fate into the hands of another person, but he couldn’t help it. He knew he had to do something.

“So,” Dr. Yang said, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. Jake gulped with anticipation, a mix of fear and guilt running through his veins as the psychologist’s judging eyes landed on him, narrowed. “Tell me about your girlfriend.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You were wandering around town, as you had often been doing. It’s not like you had anything better to do, with Jake busy and your mind distracting you from getting any work done. There was a flurry of thoughts running through your head, a synthetic blur of fire, blood, and everything you wanted to suppress. It was overwhelming you.

You were on an empty street. You found that lately you wanted to avoid running into other people. You didn’t want to hear their conversations, see their judging eyes, no, you wanted to be alone.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Sunghoon said, and you nearly jumped in fright. His ability to seemingly come out of nowhere was jarring, and it was beginning to frighten you. Not only did he appear whenever you wanted to see him the least, he always knew exactly where you were. Every minute of the day, down to the exact location. How was that possible?

When you recognized him, you narrowed your eyes, turning away and walking as fast as you could. With long strides, he easily caught up to you.

“What? Are you ignoring me?

“I don’t want to see you ever again.” you spat back at him, and he seemed amused by your vitriolity, eyes crinkingly up into humorous crescents.

“Oh, don’t you get it?” he smiled, and you felt that same fear run up your spine, the fear you felt when you first confronted him about lighting the fire. With every day, he was becoming more like the man you saw in your dream and less like your best friend. “You can’t get rid of me.”

“Please, just go away.” you said, your angry voice tinged with desperation, pleading with him to leave you alone so you could return to the peaceful life you used to have, and for a moment, it looked like he almost pitied you.

“Why? Did I cause problems between you and Jake?” You whipped around, furious that he was still able to read your mind in moments like this.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“So I was right. I am causing issues between the two of you.” he seemed happy at the prospect of his meddling, and that only made you more concerned, watching the way his smile grew. “Exactly as I expected.”

“Stay away from him.”

“I can’t guarantee that.” He was the exact vision you saw in your dream, smiling with malice and hatred like you had never seen in a human face. You feared for Jake’s life. If Sunghoon had managed to make your fiery nightmare come to life, who was to say he wouldn’t kill Jake as well? Maybe your mind was trying to warn you about him, to tell you what he was going to do next.

“Please, don’t hurt him.”

“Don’t worry. If he dies, it won’t be me that kills him.” You didn’t understand what he was saying and you didn’t want to, so you walked away, refusing to speak as tears began running down your face. Luckily, this time he didn’t follow. You turned to see him staring at you, that smile on his face.

Maybe you were to blame, for blindly trusting a stranger. Sunghoon had managed to worm his way into your brain. He knew you inside out; your behavior, your thoughts, he almost knew you better than you knew yourself. He was living inside your mind. He had infected every part of your life, even your dreams, and you were suddenly wishing that you had never let him sit down next to you on that bench a year ago.

When you looked back at him again, he was gone.

You ran back to your apartment as quickly as you could, praying that Jake was back from his drive. You were relieved to see him safe and sound, sitting on the couch. But something was off; he was staring at the wall, completely silent, his eyes glazed as he clutched a half-empty beer in his hand.

“Jake?” He turned to the sound of your voice. “Is everything alright?” He didn’t respond for a minute, like his brain was processing your question.

“I’m fine.” he said after a moment, turning back to the wall, staring at the peeling wallpaper with rigor. Unable to turn his attention to you.

That night, you went to bed with a heavy heart and a buzzing brain. You were grateful to see that Jake had climbed into bed next to you as usual, but you were much too scared to sleep, no, you were afraid to even close your eyes. You watched the new clock beside your bed as the hours flew by, and suddenly it was 2:30 am. You still hadn’t fallen asleep.

You buried yourself further under the covers, Jake’s light snoring comforting you as you tried desperately to get to sleep. But your mind was racing. It was a flurry of images, most of them Sunghoon. You rolled over towards your bedside table, reaching for the bottle of sleeping pills your boyfriend had bought you in hopes of easing your vivid nightmares. You popped one in your mouth, swallowing it dry before you closed your eyes, praying for the sweet feeling of sleep.

As you drifted off, you stared into the image of Sunghoon’s bloody face carved into the back of your eyelids.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You awoke with a start. The house was completely silent, no evidence of anything that could’ve woken you from your sleep, but you were on high alert. Your heart raced as you looked around the room, falling on the empty space next to you in bed. You immediately sat up in bed, searching the room with your eyes.

“Jake?” you whispered, and heard no response. You slowly got up, your feet padding softly across the floor as you came around the bed. As you stepped forward, you felt your skin grow wet. When you looked down, you were horrified to see the source.

Blood. Red and thick streaks of it running across the floor, leading from your bed to the door to your bedroom, which was slightly ajar. The door you remembered firmly shutting before you went to sleep.

Your heart felt like it was burning in your chest, buzzing with fear as you followed the trail of blood, a sob escaping you when you saw it ran down the staircase, and you clapped a hand over your mouth.

“Jake?” you said again, calling out for him, your voice breaking as it rang empty in the night. He didn’t reply. You dialled 119 on your phone, your hands shaking as it rang. “Hello?”

“119, what’s your emergency?” a voice answered on the other side, and you trembled, slowly descending the blood soaked stairs.

“There’s blood all over my house. I…I think someone killed my boyfriend.” you said, your voice cracking as you broke into a sob, clapping a hand over your mouth to silence yourself. “Please, please hurry.” You followed the blood further, a horrible, debilitating sense of deja vu striking you as it led to the front yard. You prayed this wasn’t true, that it was just another cruel dream, but it felt as real as anything.

“We’re sending units to your location. Stay where you are, we’ll be there soon.” You wanted to listen, to follow instructions, but you dropped your phone, the call ending when you saw what was waiting for you in the front yard.

The closer you got, the more you could see that it was Jake, laying in the grass, his mouth and eyes open in a silent plea. His right fist was clenched shut, and he was covered in blood, and you abandoned all caution to run to him, collapsing onto the ground, blood wetting your dress and your hands as you cradled him in your arms.

This couldn’t be true. You’d had this dream over and over, night after night, but you never thought it would become your reality. You felt like your entire world was shattering. You had lost Jake, you had lost him permanently, and it was all your fault, for welcoming a stranger.

“I told you.” Sunghoon said, his voice quiet as he stood behind you, watching you hold Jake’s body as you sobbed. You could barely address him, too concerned with grief. “I told you he’d die.”

“This is all your fault.” you said, your voice shaking with fear, anger, grief, all the emotions you could imagine were running through you at one time. “I never should’ve befriended you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have a choice.” Sunghoon said, kneeling next to you, his hands resting on his knees. The sound of sirens began to ring through the air, blue and red light shining across the street as cop cars pulled up in front of your house. “We didn’t meet that day. I’ve always been with you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, but he didn’t respond.

He got to his feet, his eyes dark and filled with pity as police officers ran out of their cars and towards you, straight past Sunghoon. You pointed to him, eyes wild as they looked at you, then the direction of your finger.

“That’s him! He killed my boyfriend!”

“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to let go of the body.” They ignored you, prying Jake out of your hands. Sunghoon watched as they dragged you away from Jake, inspecting his body while you screamed at them, pleading with them to catch the killer, to arrest him for what he had done to your boyfriend. You still didn’t understand. It was almost pitiful.

You were still screaming and pleading when an officer approached you, a note in his hand, almost illegible through the sheen of blood that covered it.

“Are you y/n?” he asked, and you only cried harder, which seemed to confirm his question. He raised the note, displaying it to you, and you attempted to read it through your tears, your eyes going dry when you processed it.

Y/n killed me.

It was Jake’s handwriting, you knew it. After two years, you’d recognize his handwriting anywhere, the distinctive scribble, the way the letter y looped at the tail. Your heart felt like it would stop in your chest as the officer stared at you scrutinizingly.

“You’re under arrest.”

“What? No, you don’t understand.” you said desperately, struggling against the rough hands of the officer as he attempted to cuff you, wriggling desperately. “I didn’t kill him, Sunghoon did! He killed him!” you screamed, pointing at the dark haired man standing in the shadows, watching.

The more you looked at him, the more you realized that you didn’t know anything about him. Sunghoon always had the ability to read your mind, but you couldn’t name a single thing about him apart from what you had in common. Where did he live? What was his last name? What was his family like? Where did he go to school, where did he work? You couldn’t recall anything, and your eyes widened in terror as he stared at you from the sidewalk, casting no shadow on the pavement.

Then, he smiled, that bloody, horrible smile, the one that haunted you in every sleeping and waking moment.

“Sunghoon killed him!” you cried desperately, the officer staring in confusion at the empty space you were pointing to, the only thing in the silent night being the trees and bloody sidewalks. He turned back to you, and the next three words he spoke made you feel like you could die on the spot, you were so filled with dread and fear.

“Who is Sunghoon?”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

back to the masterlist.

[likealittleheartbeat]

talk to me about the theme of emotional isolation for zuko and aang

It's the main reason I'm obsessed with the show tbh.

Can we overstate Aang's isolation within the show. He's not only a survivor--a sole survivor--of a genocide, he's also knocked out of time and history. These are the facts of his physical isolation. But his emotional isolation is such a different beast. It began before any deaths did. He is set apart by the monks and by the whole world as a savior. Shortly after his status as the avatar is made known, his peers exclude him, his power too great. His humanity is denied because he's too divine. Only Gyatso seems to still regard him for who he is rather than his gifts. Of course, that's why the council decides Aang needs to be further separated from worldly relations like that, and vote to send him off. For Aang, it's the last straw. He can't bear further exile from others. To regain some sense of control, he tries to run away from the heavy burden and those who have put it on him. At least this time, he's the one choosing his loneliness. It has become so clear that no one can understand his feelings about the Avatar State.

This is the emotional state he enters the series with, icon rather than human. He starts off concealing his revered identity in an attempt to indulge in simple pleasures, penguin sledding, coy fish riding, etc. But the shame is secretly right there at the surface. He's lovable but mercurial. Friendly and animated with everyone when he first meets them but in a way that's fleeting. The knowledge that he will have to leave the village, in an episodic fashion, having helped the members of the town, even having sacrificed himself for their well-being, is an understood fact of the plot and his life. At most he sheds some of his grief by putting it into words with Katara's encouragement. But despite the whole world fighting through their own grief from the fire nation and Katara's sole-survival of her own culture's genocide, they each have people in their families and cultures who, however bitterly, hold them and hold the broken memories together with one another. No one is as physically isolated as Aang, but, more importantly for his character development, no one is as isolated by their significance to the world.

No one, except Zuko. Zuko, the banished prince. Isn't that what Aang as the Avatar is in many ways: a spiritual prince, an heir by birth to power and legacy, who has been banished from his inheritance. Only, Aang's inheritance would be peace. Zuko's would be the Fire Nation, but because of his humanity, Zuko, like Aang, is without a nation. This is one reason Zuko and Aang are such incredible narrative foils. Aang is rejected from humanity's compassion because of his divine status while Zuko is rejected from divine rule because of his human compassion and failures to demonstrate perfection. (If you're interested in this dynamic in media, Fruits Basket has fantastic explorations of these themes with Kyo vs. Yuki and Tohru vs. Akito.)

How early did Zuko start to notice the disappointment he brought to his father and grandfather? As early as we can see, Zuko seems alone. The episode with that phrase in the title reflects back on his childhood, which, noticeably, lacks the friends Azula manages to keep. He mimics and mocks her cruelty, as well, in an attempt to impress his mother. His insecurity seems already set, a sense that no one can understand. While Aang recognizes that everyone thinks he's too good to belong, Zuko lives in an environment in which he's not good enough to belong.

The reactions to their rejections correspond, too. Zuko's reaction of antagonistic pursuit of anyone and everyone--like Aang's reaction to run away (literally and sometimes emotionally with a smile or joke)--helps keep others in a framework of enemies so he can control his exile rather than the other way around. Yet these behaviors put them in dynamic relation to one another--Zuko is drawn to the endless pursuit of the strangely kind Aang, whose instinct is to behold others while remaining untouchable, while Aang becomes clearly intrigued by the person who refuses to treat him like an untouchable hero, the person who refuses to give up on the possibility that the Avatar can be flawed and fail, no matter how many times he slips away proving his divine destiny.

It's obvious that Zuko is supposed to hate Aang, as the Avatar. "The Headband" illustrates how education in the Fire Nation portrays him if the fact that Zuko's only possibility for regaining his title under his father is bringing the Avatar back isn't enough evidence for you. But Aang ought to hate Zuko just as much, if not more. Instead, they are drawn toward one another with an remarkable intensity, established within the first half of the first season, "The Storm" x "Blue Spirit" combo punch! In fact, the blue spirit episode really reveals what they can mean to each other. Not only in Aang's question at the end that invites Zuko back into the past with him, but in the way that Zuko is made to be the divine entity for a brief period while Aang is helpless in the fort. Then, that question at the end: "Do you think we could have been friends?" Isn't that the opposite of the isolation they feel. In the woods, without a nation or an allegiance, Aang, remembering the people and time that he was forced to leave asks Zuko, who has just betrayed the people who banished him, in another version of life where they were both simple people rather heirs of vast power, if they could have formed a kind of union that would have dissolved the loneliness that consumes both of them. But it's momentary and they have to return to the world that defines them as the Avatar and the Banished Fire Prince.

This becomes one of the cores of the show, as echoed in the finale, where Zuko and Aang consummate their friendship, but by then, through traveling the winding road toward one another and aiming to take on a part of what the other person represents, they have found a balance that refused the binaries of divinity and fallibility that had previously separated and defined their lives, binaries that exiled them from connecting with others, binaries that built towers to isolate them from the world. The victims and survivors of genocide, the subjects of colonial violence, nor the sufferers of abuse need be pure to claim their pain, nor must the people who want and work towards justice be saints to do that work. Harder for many audience members to absorb, despite their love for Zuko who's arc is meant to emphasize the point, there is a spark of divinity in everyone, from the most unloved to the most violent and tyrannical. This second fact must exist alongside the first, or else the premise won't hold. How you choose to act and engage with that spark of divinity is a human choice we each make on our own, but that does not deny it's existence. The divine ideals must be allowed to fall apart into comedy and tragedy, while the mundane, the profane, and the cruels horrors of life must be allowed to be seen as something that hold the possibility to become beautiful and part of a grander design. The Avatar must be allowed to be Aang and Zuko must be allowed to be the Firelord so that we can have Avatar Aang (the last title of the series) and Firelord Zuko (the most celebrated character arc of the series). They need one another to assuage the fear, isolation, and dread that black-and-white perfectionist thinking boxes us into.

[genshin-side-piece]

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Financial Control, Power Imbalance, Dark themes, mentions of death, My bad writing, Anything Else I Missed

Casually thinking about how Pantalone’s hobbies include toying with the nobles in the Tsaritsa’s court for funsies. The ambitious social climbing families of the court’s lesser houses are always so eager to see their children or themselves rise into Zapolyarny’s more elite circles. Who better to play the role of the benevolent benefactor to the underprivileged during Snezhnaya’s social season than the Regrator himself? He certainly has the money and as far as connections go, there is literally no one he can’t find or buy should he need too. It is the perfect arrangement for those eager to climb or it would be, if they bothered to read the fine print.

Debts and collateral are funny things. Pantalone has no use for endless estates or family jewels. He always accepts Mora, but what use does he have for it when he can manipulate it like vision bearers can the elements? He wishes for something more malleable; something he can shape, something he can mold, something he can control. Those same poor souls who are seeking a better station in life often find themselves under the Regrator’s thumb, shackled to him by a debt they cannot pay. 

He moves them around as he needs, placing them where he feels they will be best suited. From the seediest brothels to the most exclusive salons; Pantalone has eyes and ears throughout the capital, making sure his enemies are always right where he needs them to be. Poised and ready for the fall he has planned for them. 

Such is the case with many, such is the case with you. 

Normally, Pantalone rarely took stock of what his collateral looked like. He didn’t put faces to names or much valuation on individual personalities. His only real interest was risk vs reward. Who had the highest capability to give him the best return on his investment and who would be better left to the frigid conditions of Snezhnaya’s winters should they not be able to deliver what was owed.  That wasn’t to say Pantalone didn’t have an eye for the exceptional though.  While he rarely looked past his papers and figures, he did on occasion have cause to look. You had regrettably given him that cause.

To others like you, your position was an enviable one. You weren’t subjected to the routine that was following targets or hunting up information or even soiling your hands with the blood of those Pantalone had seen fit to end. Instead, you are kept in lavish comfort. Subject to being locked in chains made of diamonds and platinum. Forced to endure his company until like all the rest, your usefulness, much like your tears would run dry. Then and only then would he consider setting you free. He would weigh your debt against all he had taken. Hemming and hawing over his balance sheets, running his calculations until he reached a satisfactory conclusion. 

You could only pray that whatever decision he came to, whether it be an advantageous marriage to one of his higher ranking officers or death, that it was quick. That it was painless, and that it didn’t involve the Doctor.

[maxwell-grant]

“What's impressive?! I've been a boy this whole time!”

(Spoilers for Puss in Boots 2: The Last Wish)

Big Jack Horner was delightfully wretched and felt a lot like he was a Shrek villain stuck in a Puss in Boots movie and it made for a really interesting contrast, with everyone else in the forest going through swashbuckling adventures of personal growth and companionship, while he’s cheating and steamrolling his way through everything with darkly comedic brutality, quite literally pulling Shrek gags out of a bag as he just kills and burns and stomps his way through the magical wonderland.

It’s like he was designed to be the Final Boss of Shrek, except there’s currently no Shrek movies for him to be in so, into the Puss in Boots sequel he goes, almost like this dark embodiment of the shadow cast over the Puss in Boots franchise that it must surpass (and somehow did). He just does not play by any of the same rules everyone else does and it’s great, it lets everyone look better by default. It lets the Puss vs Death story play out in all it’s poetic glory but still gives the movie a proper bastard for everyone to gang up on. I didn’t think of that at first, but I’ve read some comments and wonderful analysis commenting on Jack Horner as a extended pisstake on Disney, an update of Lord Farquaad for modern times, and it’s an analysis that makes a lot of sense.

In that regard: while this couldn’t possibly have been intentional given their release dates so close to each other, I do think it’s pretty funny that Jack winds up connected to Pinocchio, a character who had having a rather busy 2022 if you can tell. Not only is he followed around by a bootleg Jiminy Cricket, but we see that Jack, who was extremely well-off and spoiled throughout his entire life, bears an incandescent bitterness against all magical creatures (and Pinocchio specifically) for taking attention away from his roadside show, which consisted entirely of him reciting his nursery rhyme over and over (even his family was shown bored by it), and so that’s why he wants to own ALL the magic in the world: so that nobody else gets any.

He, who already owns a massive empire and business and land and literally endless collections of powerful magical artifacts he can use to achieve anything he wants a trillion times over, who doesn’t even know what most of what he has does or is worth, is driven by the fact that Pinocchio upstaged him once,

and so nobody else should get to do anything like that ever again.

(Again, not saying this was remotely intentional, just a funny coincidence)

Also wonderful how his ultimate undoing comes from said bootleg Jiminy Cricket, one of the countless employees he’d abused and crushed over the movie, finally having enough and sending him his incendiary “resignation letter”. 2022 saw the year end with a movie where Jiminy Cricket ends a titanic corporate manchild’s reign of terror and life by setting a magical contract map on fire and freeing everyone from it.

It doesn’t even register as one of the best things about the movie only because the movie has SO many best things going on, that it can just casually work in one of the funniest Shrek subplots of all time like it’s easy. Still shocked at how good this film was and how much life they injected into it, perfect movie to end or start the year with.

[terrifiedofconflict]

Thinking about my doomed to eternal life boys and how they choose to process the meaning of that. It all comes down to suffering vs. pleasure and how that defines the purpose of their endless lives.

Lestat: My hedonistic little good time boy. He's an artist. He's into the aesthetics. He's into art for art's sake so long as you don't fuck up the music notes. Did him and Oscar Wilde make hang out? Bc they would have loved each other. I mean unless Oscar wanted to talk to him about books beyond the first 10 pages. Lestat does not believe in God or the devil, heaven, or hell. Did he actually want to be a priest or did he just love the art of theology and poetry? And did he actually stop believing in God, or did he view God as another lover/family member that abandoned him? Obviously sex and death aren't actually enough for him. He longs for companionship, which he isn't shy about admitting, but he doesn't need to attribute some higher meaning for his or others' suffering. The purpose of life is meant to be enjoyed, and it doesn't need to be more complicated than that at least until the next manic depressive episode.

Louis: The Switch. He carries the responsibility of the eldest son, but ironically, his work is to provide hedonistic pleasure for others. He grew up religious; he's repressed his sexuality and desires, and his idea of fun is being good at capitalism. There are times when Lestat brings out a different side to him, takes him to the opera, takes him wine (blood) tasting, etc. and he gets a glimpse of how he can simply embrace his desires. Giving into his desires whether that's gay sex, murder, or other typical Friday night activities, sends him into a shame spiral. He inevitably feels called to have a higher purpose. It starts with becoming (even more) financially successful, then "hey, maybe I should kill people who deserve it," then vampire vegetarianism, then fatherhood, then photography which pretty quickly stops being a personal hobby and transforms into art dealing (he is such a little capitalist), and on and on. It's one identity crisis after another. The carousel comes around again. It's responsibility and a need for a higher purpose at odds with his more selfish desires.

Armand: Do we even need to say it? Put this doe eyed masochist next to the definition of suffering. Suffering just HAS to have a purpose. IT BETTER HAVE A PURPOSE. Suffering must be necessary and evidence of divine plans, or else, did he just experience it for nothing? My big eyed murder baby loves a cult. He needs that religious reassurance. If there is no point, then was he just trafficked by his parents bc the world is meaningless and cruel? There have to be rules, and they have to be followed or else gremlin chaos must ensue.

(I want to say more about him but I haven't read the books yet and the show hasn't shown us much of how he really feels/his actual backstory, but I very much NEED an Armand season bc I'm a little bit obsessed with his whole weird little deal.)

I'm curious to hear takes from folks who read the books or people who have no interest in reading like my girl Lestat!

[ladylingua]

what’s so absurd is I really didn’t feel super strongly about the John/Mariko of it all until he volunteered to kill her

it’s like just such an insane culmination of everything between them-

like first of all, it's the fact that no one showed up for her to do her even the basic respect of being her second and so he will step up because by god has she earned HIS respect

and also obviously he loves her and doesn’t want her suffering to be prolonged and so he will do what he can to spare her as much pain as he is able, and to bear that pain for her by continuing to live after having killed her

and of course it’s him understanding her greatest relief would be him taking that final sin off her hands, delivering the killing blow himself, as he said to her he already knows hell and can handle it

but I think what really, really got me is the way all season long she’s been trying to explain to him her worldview to, her feelings on loyalty and morality and courage and the value of life and death, and he couldn’t get past the death thing, like he just cannot ever really see her views on what it means to be dead vs alive and how life can feel like endless suffering and death can feel like powerful freedom

and yet when the time came he didn’t try to stop her or rescue her or impose his views on her. instead he loved her enough to embrace death with her, to ensure her death has the meaning she choose for it and that it will be the freedom she deserves to gain. you can tell by the way he was gripping that sword, the look in his eye- he was taking every part of him that was afraid or screaming to not do it and stuffing those parts deeeeep down because he was so determined to do this for Mariko, to honor her

and it just, oh my god it got me so hard, like fully as of one episode ago I was like “I don’t really feel anything about their pairing, it’s nice and all but I’m more interested in the political intrigue” to like going fully feral and wailing as he stood over her with that sword adjusting his grip

anywho- with regards to the specific way my brain has been broken to find one lover ritually murdering another to be the height of romance, I blame Tamsyn Muir

[writing-for-life]

Round One/10, Poll

P. Craig Russell, artist #50

VS.

Charles Vess, artist #19

Two of the probably most beloved Sandman artists, so this will be a tough choice for many.

If you would like to refresh your memory:

P. Craig Russell: Fables & Reflections #50: “Distant Mirrors—Ramadan”, Endless Nights: “Death—Death and Venice”, The Dream Hunters

Charles Vess: Dream Country #19: “A Midsummer Nights’s Dream”, The Kindly Ones #62, The Wake #75: “The Tempest”

And remember, you are voting for your favourite version of Dream, not the particular storyline.

Who is your favourite and why? Let us know in the comments/reblogs. Share your thoughts about their art, your favourite panels from their issues, or even other art they created and help us turn this into an artist appreciation post.

Here’s the poll to vote for your favourite if you want to see them again (you can find the whole bracket and some additional info here, and feel free to check out previous matches via the tag #sandman march mania):

Event organisers: @writing-for-life and @tickldpnk8 (who also created the logo)

[thaisibir]

Faith, Science, and Lessons to Learn in Claymore

Here come my thoughts I've articulated the best I could on why I absolutely love Claymore for over ten years. I love how faith and science are represented and explored in this series, especially how they are not only compared side by side but brought together. And I don't exaggerate when I say this series had taught me valuable life lessons and how to be a better person.

Faith vs science: Rabona represents the institution of faith. The organization is an institution of science. As Claymore is a story centered on, of course, the Claymores, and the world as they know it, we see a lot more than the institution of faith how the institution of science operates. And it's a very cruel, brutal operation. Girls are salvaged and trafficked to be subject to experimentation and training, conditioned to think and work like cogs in a machine. Their entire lives revolve around constant, endless missions of killing yoma. All the while they're fighting against their own inhuman side. They're ticking time bombs destined for nothing but a violent death. It's a vicious cycle. A system set up to doom them from the start.

I have to mention how incredibly disgusting and clever the psychology behind the organization's system is. 47 Claymores are deployed and scattered throughout the continent at all times, but few ever come across one another. I'm sure that after training, most full-fledged warriors go through their entire careers without ever meeting another of their own. The few times they meet up are strictly for missions only. No time for real bonding and fraternizing. In fact, it seems to be discouraged and deliberate. And there is no care or effort whatsoever put into fostering friendly relations between Claymores and the common folk. They have no home, no family, not even friends, no autonomy, only complete dependence on the organization. Not unlike a toxic relationship where the victim has no choice but to be shackled to the abusive partner. That's exactly how the organization wants it to be. They want their subjects to be powerful, dependable, but expendable and replaceable at the drop of a hat. The lonely and isolated lifestyle imposed on Claymores, along with the rules, keep them in line. Keep them apart and they would never get a whiff of the skeleton in the organization's closet and entertain the idea of rebelling. We all know that didn't last forever. (More on that in a later section...)

All right I think I've been beating a dead horse talking about how horrible the organization is. In contrast to their operations involving exploitation, dissection, and separation of Claymores, Rabona is the site of their unity and humanization.

Rabona is the pivoting point for bringing together a Claymore and three humans in their efforts to take down a yoma. It's where we learn that bonds are stronger than the carnal desire to awaken and feast on guts. Years later, it's also in Rabona where the same cooperation happens. Just on a much greater scale. Humans and Claymores collectively learned to fight alongside each other. Irene proved that it's possible to survive outside the organization. Galatea took it a step further, being the first to show that it's possible for a warrior to live happily among humans, albeit in secret. By the end, an era of a truly peaceful coexistence begins. It's a beautiful irony that the city well known for its spirituality, image of holiness, and rejection of the "unholy" becomes the first place to openly welcome Claymores.

The organization topples and falls apart from a single decisive strike. Meanwhile, despite multiple assaults from powerful Awakened Beings, Rabona still stands. And I'm sure it will continue to endure and flourish with the Claymores as its new resident defenders. An institution built on fear and blind obedience is much weaker than one built on the warriors' true sense of allegiance, belonging, and home.

That is not to say that science is all bad in Claymore. After all, surgery is what physically brought Teresa and Clare together.

Father Vincent: I need to talk about this man and how vastly underrated he is. In a story full of incredibly strong and kickass half-monster women, Vincent is not only one of the few ordinary men in the cast, but the best of them morally speaking (second to Raki). That scene of Vincent with Galatea, Clarice, and Miata made him my favorite male character in the series. He had come a long way since his first appearance. Even then, he had come around from a position of prejudice and his city's idea of holy vs unholy to acceptance and gratitude for Clare. His brief sharing with Galatea of that turning point shows incredible self-awareness and introspection, a mindset we should all strive to have. Then, as the head priest of the religious order entrenched in Rabona, he initiates that change at the greater societal level, turning Rabona into a sanctuary that welcomes all Claymores. I especially love that panel where he raises a hand of blessing to Galatea and says he wants to pray "for her and her wonderful companions." I found that incredibly touching. Those words must mean the world to Galatea, and to any Claymore if they heard. After all, they're so used to being dehumanized and reviled. Vincent is the perfect foil to the terrible men of the organization, second to Raki when it comes to showing empathy and compassion to Claymores and regarding them as more human than monster. Vincent sets a great example of what it means to be a decent human being, and just what it means to be human, to be capable of growth and change for the better. I'm sure we all want to be badass like the Claymores, but really we must try to be the Father Vincent in people's lives. You don't need yoma power to be an agent for good and change.

The measurable versus the immeasurable: In this world where only the strong survive, power and rank is everything. Or so it seems. Like I mentioned earlier, the organization is insidiously clever in using a ranking system to define the Claymores and keep them in line. Claymores have very few possessions to call their own: the emblem and armor they wear, the sword they wield, and the number they're given. Numbers are what separate and define them, what seem to give them identity, worth, and purpose. Enter Clare, the series protagonist, who flips a giant middle finger at all that. Unlike some Claymores who obsess over numbers (lookin' at you, pre-timeskip Helen), Clare doesn't let her low rank define or upset her. Mathematically and rationally speaking, with the flesh of a half yoma warrior, she's only a quarter yoma, therefore half the strength of a typical Claymore and the weakest of them all. Clare gives that rationale the middle finger too. What keeps her alive from beginning to end is her limitless, immeasurable, astounding courage and endurance that impressed Teresa from the beginning. And there's her great capacity to love and care for others. Love forged those strong, lasting bonds with Teresa and Raki. The lengths she went to save Jean inspired a loyalty like no other, and what leads to one of my favorite quotes in the series: "She saved my life. Her rank meant nothing then and it means even less to me now."

The Seven Ghosts embody true sisterhood allowed to flourish outside the confines and prying eyes of the organization. Living, hiding, and training together, sharing survivors' guilt from that massacre in Pieta, they are fueled by a drive that's far greater and more enduring than mere petty competition for ranks within the organization. They don't fight just to survive, but to honor the memory of their fallen comrades. Years later, those old ranks they were given mean nothing. The Ghosts become more than that, undefinable, and for all their strengths and weaknesses they come to regard each other as equals, as true friends and sisters ought to.

And finally, the most powerful manifestation of love is none other than Teresa and Clare, the twin goddesses who defeat the one horned monster. The organization had tried and failed many times to replicate that perfect synergy. They left out one important part of the equation. Clare and Teresa's love for each other makes their union a truly powerful thing that defies the limits and bounds of numbers and stats. Many times throughout the series, especially by men from the organization, it's brought up that Clare's true abilities and potential don't align with the number she was given. She's truly a wild card, defiant in the face of obeying the organization's rules and rationalities. It's human nature to assign numbers and ranks to things because we like to compartmentalize, but the real world is a lot messier than that. Clare is there to teach us that we are not defined by the numbers we earn or are given.

All of this is to say that the most important lesson I took away from Claymore is this: it's what you do for others that truly counts, not what others think of you. Love and compassion is enough to move the most powerful being in the entire series to tears.

[tsutsumi-kurose]

perspective in picture perfect vs 112

I’m so excited about this new arc!! it’s really interesting to revisit similar themes that were explored in the picture perfect arc now that so much more has happened.

I think the biggest difference I’ve noticed is that in 112 nene objects to an altered reality because of the importance of her past:

whereas in picture perfect, nene’s objections to an altered reality are expressed mostly in terms of what she wants for her future:

she talks about wanting a real life, but she’s still talking in hypotheticals and hopes. of course, as the picture perfect arc shows, hope is a beautiful and important thing!! it’s what drives us to live our lives!!

but… is it life itself? what relationship do these aspirations have to a real life? are these things really what nene means when she says she wants a real life?

what does a real life look like?

I think 112 begins to answer that very beautifully by having nene consider what this means by looking to her real, lived past rather than a hypothetical future

a real life is the life nene poured hard work and endless love into. a real life is not just dreaming but doing. it’s having things happen to her and reacting to those things. the people who came into her life and how she put love and effort into keeping them there, and it’s the love and effort they put into staying with her!! look at all of her adventures, at all she’s faced and overcome to be where she is now!!

I love seeing nene asking what to do, especially as she’s looking at how much she’s already done. it’s such a beautiful turn in her perspective!! she’s come so far from the post-picture perfect nene who kept insisting they could deal with her lifespan later. we’ve come a long way from far shore bound nene, who was trying to accept her death by accepting a future in the far shore. maybe not the future she wanted, but a future she could try to accept.

her perspective in these past arcs was almost entirely future-oriented.

I really love that now, while she’s starting to think about what to do, she can reflect on all she’s already done and gone through!! I love that she loves her past!!

it’s been hard, but it’s been hers. and she wants whatever comes next. she wants to make it and grow it herself!! no matter what the result is.

it’s so beautiful seeing nene looking back and cherishing her life… and makes me wonder if this is maybe a tonal turning point. to see nene pausing and looking back instead of charging forward. directing her optimism and idealism and endless love backward and realizing how beautiful and important everything has already been, despite the hardships.

I love that she still wants to put work in, and I believe she’s going to be putting in so much work and so much love to the end of her story, because that’s who she is!!

but her saying she wants her dying, rotted plant back… saying it’s important to her, even if it will never flower… makes me wonder if she’s gearing up to accept an end to her life, knowing that it was a real one that mattered, and one that she gave her best to

or!! maybe nene looking to the past with love doesn’t necessarily mean an acceptance of her death, but rather that her plans for her future going forward will have a more solid foundation than her plans that were solely based on hope (and, lbr, denial)!! maybe she’s looking to the past to clear out that denial so she can have a more reliable plan.

either way, the beginning of chapter 112 is such a beautiful character moment for nene. I think her looking toward the past is an important distinction between 112 nene and picture perfect nene. it shows how she’s grown so far throughout the story, and I can’t way to see what she does with the reflections she’s made <3

[helpimstuckposting]

MAGP20 Speculation

Okay I’ve got one or two thoughts organized and I’m gonna ramble now, spoilers ahead.

We’re really in it now, chat.

So first of all, since episode 1 I’ve been focusing a lot on similarities between tmagp and tma, but recently I’ve been noticing really specific opposites. Like, the few that everyone’s been talking about are obviously the Tea vs Coffee mentality of the characters, the day vs night shift, and the ability to quit the job. Then there’s the really in-your-face visual of the episode covers with tma being green and tmagp being red, which are complementary colors (opposites on the color wheel).

Also, Lena vs Elias. Elias deliberately let some of the entities invade the archives to mark Jon, but Lena does not want any of the externals on the OIAR property, ever.

Then there’s a big one I noticed since last episode (19), with the reveal of Diana’s Tree. Diana’s Tree is a presumed precursor to the Philosophers Stone, which has two main properties in alchemy — to transmute base metals into gold, and to create the elixir of life. So it’s interesting to me that we were contemplating the existence of “The Extinction” in tma, and in tmagp we’re contemplating the philosophers stone, or Immortality. Opposites again.

So THAT made me think about the eyepocalypse and how it was doomed to fail because no one could create life and eventually everyone would be claimed by The End, including the entities themselves without fear to feed off of.

So the main theme of tma is death, extinction, The End, and potentially the main theme of tmagp could be the extension of life, creation of life, or immortality.

With that thought, I feel like it’s possible for the philosophers stone to be essential for maintaining a successful apocalypse. What if, entering a new reality with this knowledge, the pursuit of the elixir of life became the entities (or at least The Web and The Eye’s) new goal? Forget the apocalypse, we already know how to start that, first we need to be able to extend life in order to maintain the domains without humanity collapsing and being taken by The End. If we can do that, then the new apocalypse can be endless, the fears can rule forever, feed forever.

It kind of makes me wonder if the OIAR is The Web’s response to The Magnus Archives and The Eye. Like maybe it’s trying to keep the balance by preventing the apocalypse. It was Annabelle Cane’s lighter that blew up the archives in MAG200, after all. Maybe the first use of The Magnus Protocol wasn’t even in the tmagp universe…

[illusionarylibrary]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷

CW: Mention of death, spoilers

| Series | next>>

✶⊶⊷⊶°.•☆•.° ✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶ °.•☆•.° ⊶⊶⊷✶

- The snow fell harshly, blizzard sweeping through the northern islands. All was as usual.

- Well, all except for the attack on Minion Island. Marines vs Pirates. But you couldn’t be bothered. Why would you care? After all, you weren’t personal with either side, not to mention humans themselves.

- Humans. Those vile creature that tried to hunt your kind to extinction. Your memory was perfect, each detail from the last 200 years were intact. But that was a story for another time. Right now, you were swerving through flying nets, diving cannonballs, and avoiding capture.

- You were the infamous Light Fury.

- Child of the skies and glider of clouds. As big, if not slightly bigger, as a Clydesdale Horse. Your scales were like pearl, prettier than any kind. With your plasma based fire, you could make yourself invisible for in a moment’s notice, like a magician disappearing from the stage.

- Disappearing.

- Now how come you didn’t just use your disappearing act and fly away unnoticed? Well, where was the fun in that? It wasn’t like you got much action from the humans when you hid away.

- If you wanted to hide, you could. If you wanted to make your presence known, you could. These humans were nothing to you…but oh, how wrong you’d be.

- Just a normal day of flying, agitating the humans, and then going on with your peaceful life. Though, it wasn’t part of the plan to find a stray human child wandering the snow banks of a village’s outskirts.

- He was tiny, frail even, drowning in his ragged brown cloak. It reminded you of a potato sack. The child’s hat was strange as well. Kind of like a snow leopard- that’s besides the point.

- His face was painted with a bright red hue, his nose running and droplets leaking from his eyes. He was in distress.

- The spots on his skin didn’t help his appearance.

- He couldn’t think straight. The sound of Doffy’s crew behind him, battling the Marines, made his head hurt. Or maybe that was because of his tears. His medical books did say that crying made headaches worse. He couldn’t breathe through his nose. His nose.

- Cora’s nose.

- The blood ran down Cora’s nose, his mouth no different. Cora’s face was covered with blood and scratches…no, his head was surrounded by red.

- Red. Red. Red, red, red red red- his chest was red. His blood was red. It was all…white?

- What was that? There that moved in front of him? Blue.

- Striking blue eyes were right in front of him. A…a dragon?! But- but he thought dragons were just of legend! The villagers never believed the marines when they told stories of that pearly white dragon slinking around in the clouds!

- Blue. Such electric blue eyes, pupils that of a cat’s.

- He was going to be eaten. Cora had just died for him, and now…and now he was about to die to a dragon. Cora’s deaths oils be in vain.

- He couldn’t- no more- his head hurt too much. His ears were ringing. His own cries made his brain want to explode.

- He felt back, tripping on his cloak as it grew closer.

- You could smell his fear. His tears were so salty. His cheeks and nose looked too red to be healthy…it wasn’t like you cared for humans, but you did spend a bit of your years studying the interesting creatures.And now, here, right in front of you, was a human youngling.

- Er, child. A human child.

- He looked like he was about to pass out, his chest rising up and down at an abnormal pace. Oh, you must be intimidating him. The moment you backed off proved you right.

- His eyes widened, confusion written all over his face. The little child looked so lost. He was…so sad. His cries like a tormented youngli- child. A child. Right, right, he wasn’t a youngling, he was a child.

- His cries wouldn’t stop though…they kinda hurt your sensitive ears. Your nubby ears were pinned to your head, eyes scrunched up at the high sounds of his endless wailing. Agh, too much.

- You darted into the sky.

- This little human child was weak. He was weak. Weak: lacking physical strength.

- But then again, so were you. You were in the same position as him. You were once wounded like he was. All so long ago. It was the reason you despised him.

- No. Not him. Not the youngling. His kind, the humans. It wasn’t even that long ago, about a hundred years prior…but that story would never be revealed to the world.

- Unless someone found those four red blocks those humans carved.

- You still wondered why they carved such intricate red blocks. But no matter. Humans were weak. That youngling was weak…you were once weak. But never again.

- Never again would you be weak.

- Right?

✶⊶⊷⊶°.•☆•.° ✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶ °.•☆•.° ⊶⊶⊷✶

Ghost notes: Have returned, yes. For how long, no one knows. But the ghost had some time to spare and wrote on the plane…again. The ghost has an obsession with One Piece and HTTYD at the moment. Hope you enjoy!

[absolutely-normal-about-x]

Have a thought for this but….after listening the vengeance saga for a million time I have an incredible (Horrid) idea.

Six hundred strike but it’s X vs Sigma.

Okay so like it sorta out of character but man X brutality beating Sigma’s ass after so many years of War and suffering.

X deserves to be unhinged and Brutal for once for his LIFE. Especially towards the guy that was once close to him now being his greatest enemy. And a hint of dramatic flair

Sigma and the Virus took so much from him, so him stabbing Sigma with his own weapon over and over again would have been so satisfying. Sigma is sorta immortal (Until the Mother elf happened). He would screamed for all of the lost souls that were lost in those countless wars, being helpless to save their lives. X isn’t sadistic about it, he’s absolutely a wreck of tears, from all the hatred and sadness finally reaching a breaking point. Hellbent to inflict as much suffering and pain that he could possibly can until sigma is reduced to scrap.

Sigma would have been low key gloating about X’s sudden ruthlessness how he and him are not so different…then realized that he underestimates X’s sheer capacity of ruthlessness. Seeing as a hero, never resorting to such high brutality. Then just wailing every blow at sigma for no regard. Not even letting him have a word as he continues to rip him apart. For the first time after their long battles he truly felt fear.

But also X as he realizes what he has done, horrified of his actions. Haunted of what he has as it greatly weights on his own soul.

What if Weil’s immortality punishment was supposed to be a Prometheus one? Endless suffering, death no longer being there to be freed from it. Maybe that was the original punishment before it was change to Exile cause X doesn’t want to repeat that incident again.

[stheresya]

The Drowned God vs the Storm God Or why Euron and Aeron are two sides of the same coin

The first time we hear of both Aeron and Euron is in ACOK, and through the description of each man we can see that despite being brothers they're both very different. We follow Theon's return to his homeland, and being far away for so long means a lot has changed to the point where it feels like he's experiencing the Iron Islands for the first time. But even then he's aware that Euron was a very dangerous man, and even someone as fearless as Asha spoke of him with unease. Aeron on the other hand, despite being an uncle with whom Theon grew up with and remembers fondly, had become someone so entirely different that Theon felt like he was speaking to a stranger. It's said that Aeron used to be an easygoing man, someone who liked to party and have fun, the uncle that Theon returns to is an overtly serious man, completely immersed into religion.

The Iron Islands follow the faith of the drowned God, understandably so considering they live in a barren land and the sea that surrounds them is their main source of food and prosperity. This makes the salt water from the sea holly to them, and it's present in their religious rites as well as in their rites of passage, and even death by drowning in the sea is considered a blessing. The fact that the Islanders follow one god doesn't make them monotheists, because their faith acknowledges another deity: the Storm God, "a malignant deity who dwells in the sky and hates men and all their works. He sends cruel winds, lashing rains, and the thunder and lightning that bespeak his endless wroth." (The World of Ice and Fire). If the the Drowned God is associated with life, prosperity and victory, the Storm God is associated with death and destruction, and so they both stand in opposition to one another, with the latter god being reviled by all the ironborn.

As a priest, Aeron currently stands as the greatest representative of the Drowned God in the Iron Islands. And this actually means a lot more than the text lets on. Priests of the Drowned yeald a lot of power in the Islands, the only man above them being the King. The power wielded by these prophets of the Drowned God over the ironborn should not be underestimated. Only they could summon kingsmoots, and woe to the man, be he lord or king, who dared defy them.

In ACOK when some ironborn suggest Aeron that he should make a claim in the kingsmoot he immediately rejects the proposition, we are led to believe that it's because Aeron does not see himself worthy of being king, but beyond that, as a priest of the Drowned God, he already held a lot of power in the Iron Islands and had not much need for more.

Drowned vs Storm ----> Aeron as the Drowned vs Euron as the Storm

The Drowned God religion has a lot of focus on death and rebirth. One of their main rituals include drowning someone and bringing them back, because 'what's dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger', according to their motto. Aeron is one prime example of that ideal because he went through a near-death experience at sea, because of a storm, no less, only to survive and completely change his ways, become a wholly different person. In a way, Aeron did die because he's nothing like the man he was before that experience, and he did rose harder and stronger to an extent, because although his self-harming tendencies still exist in the form of religious zealotry, it's undeniable that the power he yields now as a priest grants him a strength and authority that he never had before. Not only is he a priest of the Drowned God, his own life experiences are also the embodiment of the ideal of death and rebirth from the religion. People pray when they see Aeron and are expected to give him things.

The speaker was the priest he had seen leading the horses along the shoreline. As the man approached, the smallfolk bent the knee, and Theon heard the innkeeper murmur, “Damphair.” (Theon I, ACOK) Wherever [priests] might wander, lords and peasants are obliged to give them food and shelter in the name of the Drowned God. (The World of Ice and Fire)

Associations between Euron and the Storm God are much more explicit in the text. When Balon dies in a supposed accident, everyone is quick to blame the Storm God, when in actuality it was really Euron who flung his brother to his death so he could rule in his stead. At some point Aeron even points out that Euron is the Storm that has come to bring chaos in the Iron Islands, and we the readers can see the truth of it both in the way he affects the lives of the people there and in his plans of conquest.

"Godless? Why, Aeron, I am the godliest man ever to raise sail! You serve one god, Damphair, but I have served ten thousand. From Ib to Asshai, when men see my sails, they pray." (The Iron Captain, AFFC)

The element of prayer at the sight of each man, people pray when they see Aeron because he's a priest and who's owed religious honors, people pray when they see Euron because they are afraid.

What do they want?

Aeron and Euron virtually want the same thing and the only reason Aeron opposes Euron is due to their personal history and because Euron doesn't do things in a Drowned God-honoring way. They both want a return to the Old Way, a time seen as glorious when the Iron Islands lived to invade and reave, killing, raping and enslaving thralling anything on sight.

Theon shifted his seat. "My uncle Euron has not been seen in the islands for close on two years. He may be dead." If so, it might be for the best. Lord Balon's eldest brother had never given up the Old Way, even for a day. (Theon II, ACOK) The Merlyn gaped at him. "A kingsmoot? There has not been a true kingsmoot in . . ." ". . . too long a time!" Aeron cried in anguish. "Yet in the dawn of days the ironborn chose their own kings, raising up the worthiest amongst them. It is time we returned to the Old Way, for only that shall make us great again. (The Prophet, AFFC)

But most showcasing of their similar values is the way Aeron initially reacts to Euron's great speech at the kingsmoot where he promises bloody conquest of the Seven Kingdoms.

For half a heartbeat even Aeron was swept away by the boldness of his words. The priest had dreamed the same dream, when first he’d seen the red comet in the sky. We shall sweep over the green lands with fire and sword, root out the seven gods of the septons and the white trees of the northmen… (The Drowned Man, AFFC)

Aeron idealizes the same thing as Euron, the only thing that gives him stop is the fact that it's Euron making the promises.

In conclusion, both Aeron and Euron are men whom the text itself associates with the gods worshiped in the Iron Islands, the gods that seem equally powerful but always in contradiction to each other. Just like Aeron and Euron are currently the most powerful men in the Iron Islands but are at odds with each other. Aeron may not share Euron's bloodlust, but both are still men with dreams of grandiosity who envision the same thing for their people, even if for entirely different reasons, and it's a grandiosity that can only be acquired through intense violence against everyone else in around them.

[ceaseless-rambler]

Gunpowder Tim vs The Moon Kaiser is so good, and I needed to write something about it

There are many things that can be said about the setting, but for simplicity's sake, we'll leave it at a war story. And isn't that all that matters? Another war, just as meaningless as the rest. Another set of people, far too young for what they've been made to do, far too young to understand the propaganda they've been fed. So they enlist, not knowing any better. And now we have Tim, and he has Bertie, and they're just trying to survive. Death on all sides, masked by the suffocating darkness, the fear pressing in on every sense from every direction. But they can do this, because they have each other. Until they don't. Until Bertie dies. And Tim, poor, poor Tim, left with nothing but the smell of blood and the whine of alarms and the endless darkness, snaps. Of course he does. There wasn't anything else he could have done. But he will not go down alone. If he's going to lose Bertie to the war, and lose himself to that loss, then he will take everyone else down with him. He singlehandedly cuts down enough of the opposing army that their leader notices, but his massacre must end eventually, and he's captured. Brought in front of the leader of the opposing opposition, sentenced to execution, but he refuses to die here, he won't, he can't. He fights and he reaches a cannon and blows up every person in the war and burns his eyes out but the war is over. The war is over. The war is over and the story ends here.

But Tim's story doesn't. Tim is found, smiling through burned and blackened eyes, floating through the cosmos. Tim is pulled from the wreckage of the war, his eyes replaced with metal and machinery, and he can see again, and he can live again. But why does he get to live? Bertie is still gone. He's killed so many people. Bertie is still gone. He's ended the war. Bertie is still gone. He was saved because he damned so many others. And Bertie is still gone. Tim couldn't save him. Tim is alive, and Bertie is dead, and when sobs wrack his body, his mechanical eyes do not water. Though this Mechanism may grant him sight and grant him life, it will not grant him his grief. His body shakes, and liquid finally, finally spills onto his cheeks, but it is not tears. A thick, viscous fluid runs down his face, and as he tries to scrub away the horrid reminder of his situation, he feels the metal on his face. Around his eyes, a patchwork of skin and steel, shifting with the motion of gears grinding beneath his skin. A sense of revulsion floods him. He still lives, and yet so much of him is dead, lost with time and war and Bertie. The anguish rises and it is all Tim knows.