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genav0s · 1 year ago

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❪ ⌕ . ❫ ' OO. ㅤ ﹕ PRESSURE⠀!⠀⠀⠀[ . . . ]

i cannot make you understand. i cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside of me. i cannot even explain it to myself.⠀–—⠀from, "The Metamorphosis"

✶ . CHARACTERS: eun hwaseong & ian moon. ✶ . WORD COUNT: 2.2k ✶ . WARNINGS: swearing, jealousy, drug use, & fighting. ✶ . NOTES: seunghui & doyun are in my wip boy group. written in two hours instead of finishing the conclusion of my anthropology thesis, might be a little academic vocabulary-wise in the beginning. jarringly inconsistent usage of present & past tense.

There is something to be said about pressure. An all-consuming smothering that has the capacity to produce diamonds or dust.

Hwaseong loved the feeling of that smothering pressure.

He liked the duality of feeling trapped in his own head but protected by the knowledge that he’d come out on the other side.

He was raised on the adrenaline of everything being on the line— his mother’s entire career was revived in an instant with a carefully executed smile on Hwaseong’s behalf. He was performing on stage, entertainment for politicians and important celebrities, before he could properly assemble reliable memories and expressions of the rush of emotions he felt every time he stepped up into the spotlight.

Training at Apricus was a breeze compared to the level of perfection his mother instilled in him as she oversaw his tutoring sessions. Accustomed to the expectation of excellence and motivated by the tense scrutiny the executives placed upon potential debuts, in Hwaseong’s mind the only reason he hadn’t debuted sooner was because of how young he was.

Karin had a weird aversion to debuting anyone under the age of 16— the rule hadn’t been broken for a single artist under the label. He figured it had something to do with the contract she was under when she had first debuted, though he had never thought to ask.

Ending up on the survival show was a sigh of relief for the Seoul native. The gesture— he believed, was supposed to be a true show of their faith in his talents and marketability. Seven years of dedication at the age of 17 was more than most of the others on the show could boast about. Sure, he figured it would be just as much a challenge as it was a reward for his hard work. But he figured being chosen for the show was much more a formality than a true test of his charisma and bare minimum ability to carry a tune.

The offense he found in the selection of the other boys had been a selling point in his arc throughout the show. He was filmed scoffing at Sanghyuk’s long hours spent practicing over and over and over in the dance studio Hwaseong knew had the best acoustics. He rolled his eyes when Carter struggled to find the right words to thank the judging panel’s gracious oversight of his horrendous pronunciation. His teeth gritted in annoyance as he bit back insults directed at Jioh every time he hurled whatever it was he ate before his confessionals.

But none of them got under his skin the way Ian Moon managed to.

Their disdain for one another had been well documented throughout the show. In Hwaseong’s eyes, Ian was nothing more than a pretty boy who had only made it onto the show as someone else’s replacement. Hwaseong had never bothered to ask why Ian had similarly brushed Hwaseong off so early on, in truth he didn’t care much for the reason.

The two’s highly publicized mutual distaste had managed to pique the interests of the producers who incorporated the tension between the two into nearly every episode.

Genuine statements of “Thank you for the opportunity, I’ll try harder” from Ian were met with censored insults from Hwaseong. And as the distance between their rankings continued to grow throughout the first half of the series, Hwaseong only felt emboldened by his disdain for the Texan former athlete.

“I don’t get it. Yeah, he was put on the show ‘cause he’s pretty, but so what?” Doyun laughs as he watches Hwaseong’s careful surveillance of Ian’s revisioning behind the glass separating the two of them.

“Pretty sells,” Seunghui agrees, nodding at Doyun’s words, gently nudging Hwaseong’s shoulder. With a scowl, Hwaseong reverts his eyes from the sight in front of him. Turning to the other two instead.

“Dude’s a smug asshole. Trained for a few months— as a joke, by the way. And he ends up on the shortlist for a boy group because what— some middle school girl thought he was hot?” Doyun and Seunghui exchange a glance before dissolving into shared laughter, falling into each other as Hwaseong broods to himself.

“Careful, middle school girls are about to fund your whole career.” Doyun hums, lips downturned into a pout as he taps at Hwaseong’s cheek sarcastically.

“Isn’t your sister in middle school?” Seunghui chimes in curiously, finally catching Hwaseong’s attention.

“What if Dasom's part of the middle school girls that petitioned for Ian to be on the show?” Doyun muses, bouncing off of Seunghui’s good-natured teasing of their older friend. With a piercing side eye, Hwaseong chooses to ignore the two’s musings.

“He’s lucky Jaehee’s personally mentoring him,” He mentions off-handedly.

Doyun and Seunghui’s confusion is enough for him to continue fueling his own jealous ruminations.

“He’s in there with her right now, bastard—”

With a rumble of chuckling from the other two, Hwaseong’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, briefly releasing him from his ranting.

“Jaehee offered to give pointers to anyone who got to her during the break before filming resumed,” Seunghui explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

The corners of Doyun’s mouth curled in amusement as they watched Hwaseong try to run through the endless instructions thrown at them over the hours they had already spent filming that day.

“I—” He begins, only to be cut off by enthused Doyun.

“He’s not the bastard between the two of you either. His dad’s just dead, yours is a whore.”

The act of filming the show was quite possibly the most dreaded part of Hwaseong’s routine for the latter half of 2013. He concealed yawns and distasteful jokes behind the heads of the other contestants, only stepping into view of the camera when it came time for him to prove his worth to the judges seated in front of the remaining trainees.

Regardless of his intentional aversion to the camera, the producers always managed to find him when he and Ian were at their most heated. Volatile exchanges heightened into agitated bite-backs which bled into almost any mention of the one contestant that could unnerve Hwaseong at the mere sound of his name. He never thought it to be a coincidence that the two of them happened to find themselves within minimal feet of one another, entering confessionals as one exited, performing one before the other.

But the producers had never made their thirst for conflict more obvious than one of the last days of filming.

Against all— mostly Hwaseong’s— odds, Ian had managed to squeeze his way within reach of the final lineup. A final solo performance of each of the 10 trainees remaining would be the determination between debut and elimination. Doyun and Seunghui had been eliminated weeks ago. Hwaseong wasn’t surprised as much as he was peeved. For some reason, the show just couldn’t shake Ian.

“Yo, what’s your fuckin’ problem with me, dude?”

Hwaseong knew Ian had issues with his temper. It was a plot point emphasized over and over by the producers throughout the taping. He had a short fuse and a burning desire to get even. Hwaseong figured it to be leftover rage from the injury that removed the possibility of achieving the dream he’d had since he was a young boy. Sanghyuk had let it slip that Ian’s father was an abusive surgeon— an oxymoron that made Hwaseong’s head hurt so bad he brushed it off and never thought about it again.

“Does it matter?” Hwaseong snarks in response, the corner of his lip curling in his quip. Three words are all it takes for Ian’s eyes to light up brighter than Hwaseong had ever seen before. A fire suddenly erupted from a spark he didn’t know was there.

“Yeah, it does Hwaseong.” Ian hissed, fists and jaw equally tense, clenched in restraint. He glances at the other trainees who slowly begin to pay attention to the tension breaking between the two boys.

“Whatever Ian. The show’s almost over, you’ll be able to go home and forget about me in about three days.” His words are delivered with a scoff, a roll of his eyes following shortly after.

“Are you threatened by me or—” That was enough to set Hwaseong off. The fire spreading to his much darker eyes, launching him forward to stand eye-to-eye with the American.

“Threatened?” He all but spat the word out, as if an insult to his existence. “You’re so full of shit. We both know the only reason you’re here is because Jaehee wants to keep the pretty boy with the funny accent around.”

There isn’t a moment of pause before Ian grabs at Hwaseong’s shirt, throwing him to the ground before Hwaseong or any of the other spectators could react. As Hwaseong scrambles to rise to his feet from the frigid floor beneath him Ian smirks at the clear panic in his eyes.

“What’s it like to be so fucking pathetic that no one bothers defends you?” The amusement in his eyes sends a shiver down Hwaseong’s spine as he finds himself unable to tear his attention away from the vocalist towering over him.

“What’s it like to be so fucking cowardly you have to beat the motivation out of your competition to win at anything?” Hwaseong’s words are coated in venom as he returns the insult. “You’re not making the group, Ian. No one wants you here.”

With that, a blur of yelling and bodies shifting in Hwaseong’s vision clouds his perception. He barely registers the others struggling to restrain the older boy from grabbing at the younger. The ringing in his ears from the weight of the built-up resentment between the two of them culminates in a smirk that Hwaseong can tell infuriates Ian to his core.

Through gritted teeth, held back by both Sanghyuk and Carter, Ian musters a strained, “Fuck you.”

With a saunter to the door of the practice room, Hwaseong speaks up with one last taunt. “Take care of yourself, Ian. Send us a postcard from Texas.”

If Hwaseong believed in a higher power, he was sure God was enjoying making Hwaseong eat his words. Over the next three days, Ian had not only turned half of the other contestants against the show’s youngest trainee but had managed to squeeze his way into the final lineup.

As if by some sick twist of fate, Hwaseong watched the group’s final member claim the last spot in the quintet, that signature cocky smirk of his plastered across his praised features. When he catches Hwaseong’s eye from his spot at the other end of the line— Sanghyuk and Romeo providing a necessary buffer between the two with starry eyes and blinding smiles, Hwaseong can feel his stomach twist with a chill so nauseating his smile is wiped from his face. His knees buckle underneath him, catching Carter’s attention who finds the situation so gratifying he leans over to whisper a carefully enunciated, “How’s it feel, dumbass?” under his breath.

With disbelief etched into his expression, mistakenly read as gratitude, Hwaseong trends for the next week.

“Do you remember that fight we got into?” Ian chuckles lowly, slowly taking a hit from the lit blunt in his hand. He shakes his head as he remembers the moment that irrevocably changed the course of his life. He exhales after a moment, watching the smoke fill the empty air in front of his nose before slowly dissipating into the Seoul night sky. Ian shifts to take a second drag before passing the blunt to Hwaseong, sighing slowly.

“Yeah, made you eat shit in front of everyone,” Ian responds, a dimple coming to rest on his cheek, turning to watch Hwaseong as his lips closed around the blunt between his fingers.

“Shut up. You did not make me ‘eat shit’”. Hwaseong answers, the smoke leaving his mouth in a sudden stream.

“Yeah, I did. I beat your ass and made it into the final lineup.”

The younger man’s eyebrows furrow in disagreement, “You did not beat my ass, Ian.”

As he reaches for the blunt, Ian playfully hums, “Still made it into the lineup.”

Hwaseong scoffs with an eye roll, “Last.”

With an exhale Ian simply mutters, “How bad does your ass still sting?”

The two share a lazy chuckle, eyes drooping as they recall the memory differently. Rising with a grunt, Hwaseong brushes off the comment casually, “Whatever, dickhead.”

Mirroring with a grunt of his own, Ian gently soothes the younger man’s temperament, “You love me.”

Receiving a grumble in response, Ian watches Hwaseong turn to unlock the door of their dorm to reenter the shared space in the early hours of the morning.

Stopping him with a sudden urgency he asks, “Wait, do we look high? I don’t need Sanghyuk on my ass tonight.”

Hwaseong offers a snorted chuckle in response, receiving a furrowing of Ian’s eyebrows. “Doesn’t matter that you look high when you smell high.” After a brief moment of blank staring on Ian’s end, Hwaseong continues toward the door, fiddling with the door knob.

“I smell high?”

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feminismisstillahatemovement · 2 years ago

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What do you think about the commercialized sexualization of women and girls (esp. under capitalism)? How do you explain the disproportionate percentage of violent/sex crime committed by men, especially on women? Or things like BDSM and in general the lack of empathy men display for women, how they get off to women being hurt?

Genuine questions

There's a bunch of assumptions here that I don't know that you're aware of, stemming from the ideologically-created false-reality tunnels (specifically, Marxism/Feminism) you are looking at human relationships through. It would take a very long time to go into all of them deeply so I'll just try be brief.

"the commercialized sexualization of women and girls (esp. under capitalism)"

Prostitution is often called "the world's oldest profession": women have been exchanging sex for favors, goods and services tens of thousands of years before what Marx termed "Capitalism" came along. I would say the advent of various forms of mass communication, from the printing press to the cinema and television and then especially the internet, has caused that to explode and enter all parts of life more than any political explanation. The decline of religion probably plays a large part too.

I really don't like seeing adolescent girls dressing up like hookers, but I dont have kids so there's not much more I can do about that than express my distaste and disapproval: it's up to the parents of those children to watch over them and monitor what they're watching and how they dress. And you have to ask yourself what side of the political spectrum is pushing for these things: is it religious conservative types who are pushing for taking 5-year-olds along to watch adults simulate sex at drag shows? What political agenda does Hollywood openly promote? What political parties do "sex-positive" feminists vote for?

"the disproportionate percentage of violent/sex crime committed by men, especially on women?"

In intimate partner violence, the reality is both sexes lash out at each other at about equal rates, with women self-reporting hitting their partners more than men. The question you need to ask yourself here is who repeatedly told you to believe something different to that, and why.

When it comes the R word, it's not surprising that more women are counted as victims of that crime than men, when in most of the first world, women simply cannot be charged with that crime when they coerce a male to have sex with them, or initiate sex with a boy under the age of consent.

"Or things like BDSM and in general the lack of empathy men display for women, how they get off to women being hurt?"

Women like and fetishize BDSM as much or more than men. That's pretty self-evident if you look at who wrote and bought the millions of Fifty Shades of Grey books, or even at girls' blogs on Tumblr showing the things they find erotic, their fantasies, etc. The last time I went into the subject of women's self-reported sexual fantasies in detail, my blog was terminated, so I'll avoid going further, if that's ok with you.

But generally, I think it's obviously the case that men are far more empathetic and caring for women than women are for men. Again, it's likely you don't see that because of the ideological bubble you are in, but if you really make an effort to objectively note men and women's behaviour, words and actions in your day-to-day life, making a concerted effort to treat both sexes equally and tallying up their scores, I think you will find what I say to be true.

Hope that helps.

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northwest-cryptid · 8 months ago

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Yes I agree, and I understand your frustration but have we considered polite education over vague dismissal? Genuine question.

"Thick water is gross and weird" sure to someone who doesn't suffer from dysphagia it might seem like a gross and weird way to drink water since you're not used to the texture. However people who do suffer from dysphagia, a disorder that makes swallowing thin liquids difficult; it can help them consume water which is necessary for everyday hydration and health.

"Why would you buy pre-cut vegetables when you can just cut your own?" Well, not everyone can simply cut their own; and if you can you should probably stick to buying your vegetables whole to leave pre-cut stuff for individuals who have problems with motor function, or who may be unable to safely hold and use a knife.

"I don't need a device to help me put my socks on, I'm not lazy!" It's not always a matter of being lazy, there are plenty of individuals who suffer from reduced motor function whether due to pain or muscle degradation. If you don't need the device then simply save your money and don't buy it, it's helpful for those who do need the aid in motor function or perhaps even simply the reach.

"Why drink liquid meals?" There are individuals in the world who unfortunately have difficulty chewing, or who simply cannot chew at all. This could be due to lack of teeth, jaw complications, or even matters surrounding oral surgery and the like. For those individuals it can be difficult to consume entire meals, or get the necessary nutrients needed to maintain a healthy body from the meals they can consume; so liquid meals are helpful for them.

Now I'd additionally like to draw your attention to the fact I likely missed something, there are probably far more reasons and points to be made here. However I, even as someone who does understand the use case for such products; have not ever been properly educated because we don't educate we dismiss and insult.

When it comes to matters like this, it's simply faster to throw a "it's not FUCKING for you" than it is to politely explain and actually answer the question of "why does this exist" and often it can change someone's perspective from "ew" to "oh" when they not only understand the reasons and needs for these things, but have been made to understand in a polite manner that doesn't point a finger at them and say "BAD PERSON! BAD PERSON! HOW DARE YOU HAVE A KNEE-JERK REACTION TO SOMETHING YOU DON'T REALIZE THE NEED FOR! THAT'S ABLEIST EVEN IN YOUR IGNORANCE!"

Too many people treat ignorant people as if they're evil because they didn't know to educate themselves on a problem they didn't even know existed. Someone can't, for example; be ableist if they don't understand there is a disability. They can't believe the "typical abilities" are superior if they don't even understand what the disability is in the first place. Now if I explain the need for something like thick water, and someone continues to feel like "that's stupid they should just get surgery for it, or learn to swallow better" then yea they're fucking ableist. However if they have a knee-jerk reaction to thick water being weird or kinda gross because they're not used to it...

Congratulations, you've essentially just called Markiplier ableist.

Now I want to point out that NOWHERE in the original post does OP ever use the word ableist, that is 100% extrapolation on my part and I do not want to in any way put words in his mouth. This is just the sort of thing I see thrown around a lot with people jumping from "you don't know about this thing and that's annoying" to "you're ableist without even knowing it" and I don't think that's really a fair way to assess things. If you accuse someone of being in the wrong they're going to get defensive, they're not going to listen; you're going to take someone who was simply uneducated and make them ableist because they will have a sort of distaste for people they associate with the likes of you.

To go back to what I was saying, I don't actually believe that Markiplier is in any way ableist, but during Unus Annus Mark and Ethan did try Thick Water, and had... a lot of things to say about it, nothing really offensive; they understood what it was for so I think that does go a ways to help the understanding of the need. However they did remark on it being weird should I be remembering correctly. That being said, of course it'd be weird; you're not someone who suffers from the disability/disorder, you're not going to need to consume liquid this way and as a result you're not going to be used to it.

I will as an additional note here take the time to say that during the Unus Annus Thick Water video they were never offensive about dysphagia and I do believe that it helped raise awareness for the disability and for thick water/thick it. That all being said the episode has been lost to time and I cannot find exact clips of it to explain my point here.

What I'm saying though is that when people who don't understand something come to face something they genuinely know nothing about, they might react to it in a way that seems offensive if not only for lack of understanding of why it's important or needed.

If we in turn react poorly we are setting them up to become the very thing we believe they are, by keeping them uneducated and by convincing them that we're an asshole who they shouldn't listen to; rather than by educating them and helping them understand the importance of these sorts of products.

I bring this up a LOT because I think it's a good comparison, and stick with me here because I know this might seem like a wild tangent at first. A lot of people really enjoy games like Genshin Impact, a game that literally referenced Native Americans for their design of the hilichurl, Genshin's main enemy type which the player will inevitably mow down thousands of while playing the game. The claim on the wiki is that they're actually modeled after Oni, despite the devs literally showing images and videos of Native American people dancing being referenced for the hilichurl and their animations.

Genshin's developers are outright racist against Native people; and their game promotes the depiction of slaughter against those very people. Which is very obvious to any Native who has seen it, Natives who; in America are facing real life murder on a daily basis. To the point we have a movement for Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women, or MMIW.

Most people I talk to about this subject simply were unaware of these things, they don't know the broader scope of Native issues outside of "landback" if they even really understand that. They don't know about Blood Quantum, they don't know about the problems we face with domestic abuse.

So then when I see someone who is clearly not Native making comments about Final Fantasy 14 having extremely Native clothing options such as:

and less recognized,

I am quick to educate people on why these things can be seen as offensive, or why I'd rather clothing like this not be regarded as "Ala Mhigan" since yes, those patterns are actually real Native patterns.

I can't immediately jump on someone for playing Genshin or FFXIV and call them racist for using these clothing options or not understanding the similarities of hilichurls and Native Americans.

Because these people are not taking these actions or making these comments out of malice. They don't hate Natives, they're not trying to be racist. They simply don't know, they're uneducated.

So I take the time to educate them, and wouldn't you know it the ones who are good people, learn.

We need to take this approach to things like education about disabilities and disorders or we're not going to actually make any progress towards solving the problem.

Now obviously what someone does with the knowledge we provide them is up to them. However, if we at least do our part in explaining why something matters, or why we're for/against something; then we've done what we can, the best we can.

If we simply yell at them and say "IT'S NOT FOR YOU" that doesn't tell them who it IS for, it doesn't tell them why it DOES matter, it doesn't explain anything to them. It just tells them "you're an outsider who doesn't understand and I'm not going to waste my time on you!"

and I get it I totally get it if someone reading this is saying "okay but we're just venting!" Okay that's totally fine, I'm not trying to say there's anything wrong with that; if that's the case and you do understand what I'm saying feel free to disregard my whole damn post (except the bit about Genshin and FFXIV that shit bugs me a lot, also don't disregard the more important part about MMIW because we gotta raise awareness about this shit)

However I've noticed we have the echo chamber problem of preaching to the choir, we scream about problems that most of us might not even face in our day to day life (like seriously I've never heard anyone other than Markiplier even talk about thick water and shit like this, I don't hear these things but it doesn't mean people don't say them. I'm merely saying that I don't know if every single person reblogging this ACTUALLY hears these things enough to where it's a problem, or if they simply BELIEVE people would say these things; which yea it's believable but I'm not gonna get up in arms about it unless I actually hear it.)

And we only scream about these things to other people who ALREADY agree with us, that's not really doing any good. If I go to my Native friends and go "man let me tell you about MMIW" they're just gonna sit there like "yea man that shit is important, but we already know" and sure getting to go to my friends who understand shit and say "that shit sucks this shit is good; we gotta do something about this." Hearing them parrot that all back to me can feel good, it's reassurance, it's validation; that's great. You know what it's not though? It's not raising any awareness, it's not helping educate people who DON'T already know.

Again, and really with everything I've said here I cannot overstate this enough; I'm not here to point fingers at everyone reblogging this and say "YOU'RE WRONG, I'M RIGHT; GET WITH THE PROGRAM FUCKER" that would just be rude and you wouldn't be very inclined to actually hear me out.

I'm not trying to accuse or blame or say that anyone is in the wrong, it's a general thing I've noticed. We blur the lines between venting to friends and actually stating a problem; and the way we approach those problems doesn't feel very productive to actually stopping the problem. We simply yell and scream and throw swear words around saying "THIS IS FUCKING BAD!!!" It doesn't explain why, it doesn't move us forward.

So I guess what I'm getting here is PLEASE, next time you see someone saying some STUPID shit, or doing some STUPID shit; consider for a moment that they may be literally uneducated. Just like how you may not have known about Genshin or FFXIV or MMIW or Blood Quantum (and if you don't know about Blood Quantum you still don't because did you notice I didn't explain it?) That doesn't make you a bad person, it doesn't mean I hate you or that you're racist or whatever. All it means is that we live different lives and face different problems, I'm more aware of the problems facing Native communities because I happen to be Native. Just like how if you're Black you'd have a MUCH better understanding of the issues surrounding Black communities than I would. Which is why I urge people to educate each other, because I don't know everything, and I want to understand more, I want to be educated; I want to better support people outside of my own communities and issues; I want to be aware of things like how to talk about curtain issues without accidentally being offensive. I want to be aware of what problems people face and the solutions that we as a human race can offer them via products and aid. I want to be well rounded because it means I can then by proxy; educate others and further progress towards a better future in which people don't feel this way (on either side, the confusion about products AND the anger of someone saying stupid shit about products that help improve the lives of others) by making sure everyone is on the same level when it comes to things they don't teach you in school.

I bring up the whole Native issue because every time I say this people tell me "well they should have looked it up!" Why? People live very busy lives, if they don't know why they should care they're not going to. Not to mention there's a lot of shit out there that just isn't true; or covers up and obscures the problem; like again how Genshin's wiki states the hilichurls are based on Oni when again, the developer interviews literally SHOW the images and videos of Native people being referenced. People aren't going to just know what online information to trust right off the bat, they're not going to even know to look things up. They're not going to even know there's a problem unless someone who DOES know helps explain it to them and educate them.

You have that knowledge, and by extension; you have the power to bring upon a more educated and better future. So please don't squander that, do not let your anger blind you to the power you possess. It's okay to be frustrated, how do you think I feel when people glorify Genshin or when I see someone selling "Ala Mhigan gowns" that are literally just Native patterns. It's frustrating, it's upsetting; you're more than allowed to be mad about it. However you can get mad and bring upon no change; or you can do your best to educate the masses and MAYBE they'll actually listen.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk :P

If you've made it this far and don't want to send me anon hate, I think you're pretty cool. If you somehow made it all the way here and do want to send me anon hate; well I mean damn okay I'm a flawed person like anyone else but I guess you did just sit through all that so I don't know man, I won't respond but I can't stop you either so I mean... you could educate me about why you're upset and then I could better myself for it or you could tell me I'm a waste of oxygen I'm not the boss of you I can't tell you what to do with your time.

As a final closing note, I do want to also say it's not your JOB to educate anyone, but I do think it'd do a lot more than being mad. We don't owe anyone anything; but believe me being mad at people isn't going to fix anything either.

“ew thick water gross and weird” ITS NOT FUCKING FOR YOU!!!!! “ew why buy pre-cut vegetables when you can cut your own” ITS NOT FUCKING FOR YOU!!!!!! “I don’t need a device to help me put my socks on I’m not lazy” ITS NOT FUCKING FOR YOU !!!!!!!!! “Why drink liquid meals when you can cook them” ITS!!!!! NOT!!!!!! FOR!!!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!

#Be good to one another; even those you don't care for.#Unless they're like... a nazi or something then punch em.#I say a lot of shit if you don't like what I have to say remember I'm just some random person on the internet and I hold no power #so you can safely not care about what I'm saying it doesn't matter

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xcharmedxheirsx · 6 years ago

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#SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #AHEM #I HAD ORIGINALLY SET OUT TO MAKE THIS POST WITH A COUPLE OF QUICK TAGS TO EXPLAINS THE INTROSPECTION AND WHY THIS SONG IS ON MY MUSES IPODS #BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT AS IF TO SUBCONSCIOUSLY PROVE MY OWN FUCKING POINT ABUOT ALL OF THAT PASSION AND ENERGY AND #OBSESSION #IT TURNED INTO A HUGE NOVEL THAT WOULD'VE BEEN CUT OFF BY TUMBLR TAG LIMITS RIP #SO HERE IT IS #I OCULD LITERALLY #GO ON FOR DAYS ABOUT THEIR EMOTIONAL INVESTMENT AND DEPENDENCE AND ATTACHMENT AND LOVE OF HELENA AND THAT CLASH OF SOCIETAL EXPECTATIONS #AND SELFISHNESS MEETING THE GENUINE ILBERATION OF SOCIOPATHY AND PEOPLE WHO'S ONLY ***SELFISH DESIRE*** IS FOR YOU TO ***STAY AS YOU ARE***#AND JUST HOW THAT FEELING SETS THAT EXPERIENCE AND RELATIONSHIP AND THOSE FEELIGNS AND THAT LIFE APART FROM ANYTHING ELSE ANYONE ELSE COULD #HOPE TO OFFER #BECAUSE THEY AIN'T HELENA -- THEY DON'T FEEL OR CARE OR EXPECT OR SUPPORT OR SACRIFICE ON HER LEVEL FOR ANYONE #BECAUSE AS CLASSIC CRIME SINGS YOU CANNOT LOVE SOMEONE YOU NEVER TRIED TO KNOW #AND MY GIRLS ARE SO FUCKING ***SICK*** OF DISTASTE AND IGNORANCE - THEY WANNA FEEL FREE TO SAY AND DO AND BE EXACTLY WHAT THE FUCK THEY WANT #AND TO NEVRE HAVE OT APOLOGIZE FOR HTAT #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND #I'M RAMBLING #AGAIN...#TL;DR (PROVIDED THIS TAG SHOWS) HATE ME IS ABOUT THE SOCIETY THEY KNEW ***BEFORE*** THEY GAVE ALL TO HELENA AND HELENA GAVE ALL TO THEM

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k-s-morgan · 2 years ago

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Would you be willing to share your thoughts with us on how demon contracts work? Either in anime-canon, in Those Gentle Slopes, or both? There were lots of allusions and hints in TGSTLTH, especially in the last chapter, as to what could happen to a demon who violates a contract or breaks the rules in some way.

Similarly, I was re-watching Season 2, and Claude spends a lot of time taunting Sebastian when Ciel gives the order to "get out of his sight". Claude also taunts him about "no longer being a butler" when Alois is in Ciel's body.

Considering how stretchy Sebastian is able to make lots of orders, its interesting to me that this one seems so unbreakable, to the point that Sebastian is genuinely worried about failing the order and Claude is able to use that against him. At least partially, I imagine that Sebastian truly doesn't want to fail Ciel and would honestly do pretty much any order if it was Ciel's genuine wish. I wonder, do you think that this taunt is just because Sebastian's' failure fuels a petty rivalry, or because Sebastian is risking some kind of genuine consequence?

Sure, thank you for this interesting question! I have long since come up with my headcanon explaining why Sebastian goes around orders repeatedly but faces such a problem with Claude.

As I see it, demons can disobey their masters as much as they want, but if the master catches them doing it and considers this a breach of contract, they get in trouble. They cannot consume a soul if the other party considers this contract failed because of the demon's actions. So, for example, if Ciel said, "One of my wishes was for you not to lie to me and you did, so we no longer have a contract!," Sebastian would lose his chance to eat his soul. Technically, he could still do it, but this is where I think the consequences come into play.

Since there is clearly magic involved in contract making, the punishment could be the lessening of the demon's power and the eventual loss of a rank because of this. It has to be something serious - that's why they all try hard to fulfil their masters' commands even when they find them boring or distasteful, and that's why the world still has many people. If demons could just snatch anyone they wanted without fear of any repercussions, the population would be diminished severely.

The same principle applies when a third party questions the contract. I imagine this happens rarely, but technically, Claude has the power to nullify the contract between Ciel and Sebastian if he gets evidence that Sebastian isn't following the orders. Sebastian knows it, hence his reaction.

But at the same time, I think the master holds the ultimate power - Ciel can dismiss Claude's claim and state that he doesn't consider the contract broken. This is basically what he does eventually. In that moment in S2 you mentioned, though, Ciel was not himself and would likely take Claude's side, which is why Sebastian really struggled with what to do.

#my fics #sebaciel #black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis

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datastate · 3 years ago

Text

hello hollow knight fans. here are a few notes on some insensitive behaviors / takes i've noticed as of late. this is not a callout toward any specific person - however, if these vague statements fit you... they fit you. please listen.

to preface, i am a neurodivergent trans filipino kid who has been involved in the hk fan space for about a year. within this time, i have met a few wonderful friends of mine and several other acquaintances i greatly appreciate. however, what i've witnessed from others over this does admittedly wear on me in some ways; even after blocking them, or even in times i am otherwise 'offline', i am often reminded of their words, some being so blatantly racist or transphobic i cannot believe they can speak with such conviction. these things are stressful if not genuinely upsetting or frustrating to witness. i realize my word or drawing attention to these things will not prevent these incidents from happening, but i do hope it helps you reevaluate if you read through.

i believe in viewing media with analysis and supporting interpretation from there, however, such interpretation should stand against contention and, especially with nastier interpretations, ought not be so prevalent without being challenged or rightfully criticized. you are not immune to criticism simply for being in a fan space, especially if you like to claim fan content to be actual art.

let's begin with fiction, and work our way up toward issues outside of meta. (warning for an extremely long post)

on: LURIEN - FETISHIZATION / HOMOPHOBIA

a large, common issue in fan spaces is when mlm relationships are overly emphasized by fans, almost to the point of obsession. the characters are often simplified to fit rehashed roles for the sake of fans who wish to ultimately fetishize gay relationships for their own pleasure. in the past, i remember a lot of these fans were girls who self-identified as “fujoshis” and made shipping these characters off an unreasonably large facet of their personality, often never connecting with irl gay people, but this fictionalized version made to cater towards them and other creepy fans like them. there is a difference in enhancing gay representation in media, and fetishizing gay relationships. many fans, especially (cishet) girls/women, fall into the latter

however, there are some stereotypes lgbtq people can also fall into in their own works. often unintentional, but there nonetheless

wrt lurien, it is incredibly frustrating to see his character be boiled down to “gay romantic wreck for the pale king” as if that’s his entire personality. people will place such emphasis on his love for the king, practically infantilizing him or causing him to be entirely dependent on the king's validation. there is much more to his character, and you must keep in mind he is an adult with a serious position. while his softer feelings may be shown, it is incredibly inappropriate to have his entire character dedicated to pk's image when he has other aspects of life you can focus on instead of revolving his entire character around this romantic interest in the king, or painting him as incompetent when nervous under the king's gaze. underplaying his character for this so often does often make mlm feel uneasy.

(an aside - please, stop calling him, or any others honestly, a simp. that is a heavy insult that shouldn't have been popularized in this form in the first place among people unfamiliar with AAVE)

---

on: THE PALE KING - WHITE FOCAL POINT

this may seem irrelevant, but do you know why the tumblr sexyman phenomenon was first criticized? exactly what aspects it entailed made it so distasteful? if not, let me explain the more serious gist as it's often undermined with jokes: characters with no human form (bill cipher, wheatley, etc...) were given an 'attractive' / 'sexy' shape, idolized by fans as young thin white men. under this guise, as is applied with other white men in media (prominent example i can think of right now being kylo ren - character which was so influenced by the fans due to its lack of competent writers it became 'canon'), fans - often white themselves - began narratively shifting the stories to sympathize heavily with these white men, or found it 'easier' to empathize with them regardless of their actions.

while this (subconscious?) racism is a genuine complaint often found within fan spaces, it was most prominent in this phenomenon that fans were more drawn to excuse the atrocities of their white faves and provide them depth rather than dare to explore any other characters, especially those of color, beyond something flat or in ways which would uplift their white man.

what does this have to do with tpk? well, he is, by most definitions, a 'sexyman' in how several fans will treat and excuse him. much of this also applies to the white lady, as i will bring up in an individual later point. let me bring in some specific examples he is ‘woobified’, from what i’ve observed:

-> disregarding: MASS CHILD MURDER:

it is obvious tpk did this in an attempt to save his kingdom, i am not trying to dispute his reasoning or how he went through with it in-game, or say you cannot expand on his character. i simply mean to place this as a reminder that all of the children he had were created to be used. even if he did grow conflicted later on, it frankly doesn't matter because it has been done. he refused thk personhood and denied the rest of... thousands upon thousands of children, their very right to breath. none of his kin are required to forgive him after this, and there is trauma all of the vessels have suffered due to his and wl's actions.

even within "AUs" where the infection is rendered null and the vessels no longer need to be killed, i must admit as a person who has dealt with abuse that it does feel wrong to create some... "happy family" out of it, as if the point of the game has been forgotten. these AUs also tend to disregard the more obvious journey where ghost gathers paternal figures who genuinely, unconditionally, care for their well-being in contrast to their birth parents.

at best, these AUs are tone-deaf, and at worst, they are sympathizing with abusers for the sake of fluff. it becomes especially clear people don't understand the scope of the child murder despite witnessing the abyss. fact is, this act is unforgivable even if you wish to show him improve (and let's be real... after this you can only go up) afterward. these AUs do feel shallow as well when the only vessels people seem to allow to live are the few who survived the massacre only to die in other areas of hallownest: ghost, thk, broken vessel, and the greenpath vessel. the point of hollow knight is that these vessels mattered, yes, but as did all of the other lives stolen. they could've been one of the millions forgotten in the abyss, left to rot... why do you pretend pk would give them special treatment? is it because you wish to see a loving, family-guy side to him, to make it easier to empathize? there are so many others he could be close with, instead of forcing him into playing the role of a father he straight up isn’t fit for, nor would his kids accept (need i remind you, despite carefully picking up items from other corpses, ghost chooses to desecrate his to grab the kingsoul.)

now, a few vessels living isn't a bad idea - so long as it’s handled well. forcing pk to reconcile in small manners is fine. i honestly don’t often care about what happens in AUs, as they are obviously not meant to be reflected of ‘canon’ - however, where i take issue is where the pale king’s feelings are valued over the people, the children, who were killed en masse. you cannot pretend you wish for the vessels to merely have a happier life - when they’d have a much better time with so, so many other characters we meet in-game or who would theoretically be alive to care for those who remain, who may have been able to flee during hallownest’s time. you are placing value on the oppressor rather than the victims, valuing his thoughts and feelings despite being the perpetrator when you are creating AUs like this.

-> disregarding: "NO COST TOO GREAT"

the iconic line... that everyone seems to forget? the king admits here, in his mantra, he holds no moral line. the ends will always justify the means, and he is the righteous judgement to decide that. even if regret from the vessel plan twisted this phrase to take on more of an ironic or regretful tone when we read it with the dreamnail in-game, you must remember this was a phrase he has stuck to for the majority of his life. depending on interpretation, he may not be entirely ruthless if he can help it, but you cannot ignore such a large aspect of his character. he is calculating, and he is confident in his ability to weigh the scales regardless of personal preference. the only time we see him condemn another for ‘being wrong’ (that isn’t the radiance) is when he killed xero - and even then, that is because it is going against his right to rule as king. i understand xero was infected at the time, but i believe it is very telling that xero was nonetheless made out to be an example rather than a victim of the infection to be honored. his grave doesn’t even showcase his name.

tl;dr for this section is: you don’t need to unreasonably soften him to make him interesting when it comes down to it, this is what he believes, and there is a lot you can do with this and his character as a whole without babying him or making him overly-sympathetic!

-> obligatory: THE WHITE LADY

the white lady is not a victim, or a fitting / caring parent either - she is a perpetrator just as the pale king, even if she had less of a direct hand than he did. in-game, she still denies thk’s personhood and urges ghost to do her work for her, hanging themself in their sibling’s place as if they’re meant to be just as hollow. she has resigned herself to self-pity and acting as if there’s nothing else to do - although hornet still works to act in hallownest’s protection, now alone due to her inaction.

while she is wonderful with her words, being polite and calm in her phrasing and obviously skilled socially, her messages are cruel once you read through what she asks of you. she is not caring of ghost’s well-being - i honestly doubt she even recognizes them as her child instead of merely another vessel. she was complicit in thk’s abuse, and she has caused to heavying the mantle hornet’s taken up due to her idle regard. she is not... nice, necessarily. although she can easily act the part.

honestly, her demeanor reminds me of a few (grown) white women i’ve met in the past who would victimize themselves once rightful criticism was brought to light (often in regard to not tolerating their (unintentional? you’re an adult, though...) racism). they will use their more vulnerable status as women to cover up their other issues and essentially deny the fact that poc are asking them to change their behavior to be more mindful... they will pretend trans women and men of color, especially, could not fathom what it’s like to be a minority solely on the basis of transmisogyny and the idea that men of color, being men, are somehow oblivious to the hardships of being a minority.

with this in mind, i’ve noticed that within fan spaces she is often more likely to be absolved than pk on the basis of her being pressured or oblivious to what she was doing. these are takes which are often used to support the ideas that white women are always victims of circumstance rather than complacent with what power they do hold over several others. she is no more a victim in this plan than pk, even if she did physically distance herself afterward and bind herself. she may genuinely care, yes, do give her depth, but keep in mind she is disconnected from her own creations - whether to actively deny her own atrocities or make the plan easier to commit to and continue, this is how it is. she is complicit in so much and her atrocities should not be forgotten simply to be depicted as an innocent, caring part of the white family image people like to craft. i am going to touch on her acting first to steal unn’s land in the next point, but for now i will leave this section with this:

it’s okay to like morally grey or villain characters for being morally grey or villains, i promise. you can put reasoning behind their actions without needing to make them sympathetic or erasing what they’ve done or projecting what they’ve done onto others.

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on: THE PALE BEINGS & HALLOWNEST - IMPERIALISM & COLONIZATION

in no sweet terms, hallownest has stolen areas around, pressured other civilizations into accepting its terms, and attempted to impose upon deepnest as well. it’s fine writing, though people do seem to shrug it off in a myriad of ways which is...disappointing, and deeply uncomfortable as a filipino person, to hear how these groups of people were asking for it or were helped out by hallownest, even while doing well on their own prior to it being established on their lands

-> subtext: MOTHS (& MUSHROOMS)

a point i must address immediately is the fact i have repeatedly seen sentiments where the moths were a monolith in their willingness to submit to hallownest, taking the seer’s words at face value. while i love the seer as much as the next, she is not immune to the story hallownest has created, having been born after the moths were already “well-integrated” into its culture, and she is obviously bitter over her lack of direct connection with her culture - assumedly having to search it out on her own, as markoth had.

what do i mean by ‘the story hallownest created’? well, based on real examples, there has always been reasoning for colonization as somehow freeing more “primitive” peoples from their ways by introducing them to recently made technology. or, otherwise “helping” them in ways they are somehow incapable of and didn’t ask for. when searching for examples, i must admit hallownest immediately reminds me of japan’s attempt at “uniting” all of east asia during WWII; the short of it is that it succeeded in culling countries for resources and used puppet regimes for its own means in leading them toward supposed greatness they were too inferior to achieve otherwise, under imperialist japanese rule.

in the context of hallownest, it is entirely possible that there was a similar case in leaders of the moths being bribed and/or threatened into soothing over any doubts for hallownest’s good intentions, and leading their people into accepting hallownest’s rule / influence. another part you must remember is that... the moths are generally pacifistic people. and hallownest is a large area which is quite trained in its weaponry. even for the few moths who broke tradition to take on weapons, there were so little in comparison to the army hallownest had at its disposal.

even after hallownest was established, even if its pressure on the moths wasn’t entirely forgotten by this time, it was likely brought up as a place for opportunity and hope for moths to flock to if they wished to achieve something great. over time, culture will either be assimilated into hallownest’s mix, or it will become irrelevant due to how few people are there to continue on tradition. eventually, it began to fade over generations being drawn to hallownest - or perhaps in a worse case it was a situation where the children were led into being indoctrinated with hallownest’s mindset with little (if any) connection to their culture, as was the case with so many real kids separated from their people. it was not an active choice... it never is! no culture asks to be erased, or locked away as the spirit glade was! no one wants to lose their connection to their people or to family they trust! within this, it is disrespectful to insinuate otherwise, knowing what became of the moths.

as for the mushrooms, while i admittedly haven’t thought on them much, it is saying something to the fact their area is referred to as a path to the city rather than a separate society in its own right. the mushroom people have been entirely integrated into hallownest, with hallownest’s people almost constantly having that presence on their land, there must’ve been some distaste even if they did comply for that peaceful end, to preserve themselves as i’m sure hallownest was unwilling to yield and attempt to find another place from queen’s station to the city that would still be close to the archive.

tl;dr of this is that it’s unrealistic to act as if the mosskin or mushrooms were asking for hallownest’s rule, especially when contrasting the moths’ pacifistic traditions against hallownest’s “defense”

-> boundaries: MOSSKIN & MANTIS TRIBE & HIVE

while the mosskin relinquished some land for ‘greenpath’, they have more of a defense than the moths and are allowed to keep most of their heartland that hallownest doesn’t especially need for it’s path leading toward the capital. another loss the mosskin suffered is to the white lady - someone they clearly hold distaste toward with their warning for the lands beyond being run by someone who does not share the dream. it is extremely likely that the white lady stole this land for her own - much different to what’s implied with monomon (or another uoma) and unn having worked something out for fog canyon to be established on unn’s land. while they are tolerable of bugs on some parts of their land, they are actively defensive as to not lose more of their land.

the mantis tribe seems to have among the strongest forces in defending their home (only ever betrayed from within) with renowned skill which is especially helped due to their values and emphasis on sparring to prove honor and the like. it is because of this that they were able to keep a truce, rather than be overrun with outsiders.

as for the hive, it entirely rejected hallownest once it came into the area, closing off. while queen vespa is vaguely aware of the vessel plan, she may have been the only one to ever leave (or an informant of hers; due to her height) to discover this information, as the hive itself seems to have been purposefully cut off from the areas outside which could plausibly be under hallownest’s influence or rule. the hive risked nothing by letting themself open to hallownestian outsiders

and. well. of course, there’s another group i’ve not yet mentioned which also stood their ground. they deserve their own section with how much i must touch on

---

on: DEEPNEST - RACISM IN TREATMENT OF CODED INDIGENOUS CHARACTERS

wow! the racism in how people portray them is...something else. even before i really realized how people regard the moths, i was incredibly upset with how the beasts (likely a title for outsiders to dehumanize them - coined by and/or imposed by hallownest), spiders and herrah especially, were treated by fans as overly aggressive, confrontational, and as if they had no social empathy or regard for lives when each is either reasonable or something hallownest is quite frankly not entitled to after what it’s done.

-> regarding: DEEPNEST HOSTILITY TOWARD HALLOWNEST

as is a similar case with the mosskin, hallownest was attempting to establish itself in a part of deepnest - although here, they went through with it without getting any consent in taking this land for their own. even if deepnest and hallownest were on equal terms, it was even worse to betray that trust and begin to take their home for your own without working something out. while it may have seemed cruel to not spare the lives of people who were simply working a job, and the fact that there were several corpses of common pillbugs scattered in deepnest, fact is that if they are under the impression that if begin to show any leniency that hallownest will use this weakness to take them. besides, explaining their reactions here is an entirely different case than the reasoning behind pk and wl, as it is more of a “punching up” mindset rather than people already in power abusing this - as is the case with slavery in hallownest, or the class divide evident in the capital. deepnest is trying to protect itself and its culture, especially with how much it clashes with hallwnest’s set up - one has to cave in for the other to reign. it would be better to form a truce, but it takes the infection to get them to land on those more neutral terms with how ambitious hallownest was in thinking it was entitled to deepnest’s land.

deepnest was not hostile without reason, and it is quite underhanded to paint the spiders especially as irrational in their anger or frustration. you may allow them to be angry - of course you can! they’ve had to put up with all of this! - but do be sure that you are not shifting focus to the pale beings or hallownest as if they are in the right for what they’ve done to try to assimilate deepnest’s own culture. let herrah show her anger, let hornet be frustrated with her father and wl, but never paint this more “negative emotion” as unjust, unless it is of course from an unreliable narrator’s perspective, but even then there are smaller ways to prove deepnest and those who argue for its safety from hallownest are objectively in the right.

-> obligatory: QUEEN HERRAH & THE DALIANCE (warning for references to sexual assault in section)

since i have already gone over the unsavory aspects of making herrah and other spiders overly aggressive, i will briefly talk about the misconception that herrah. pressured tpk into creating hornet

while it is true this was not the best situation for hornet’s conception, it is quite clear that herrah was just as desperate as wl and pk. herrah wanted to leave someone behind who she could trust would protect deepnest - and with hornet being of the pale beings, a half-god, herrah probably hoped that would keep the pale beings from daring to siege deepnest as to not earn hornet’s ire after herrah was put to rest. while there was risk that deepnest would begin to be drawn into the pale beings grasp because of this, it was better to help ensure her child had a connection with deepnest’s current culture as to try to encourage them to keep it as it is, along with deepnest’s own stubborn will in preserving themselves. all she asked for was an heir, preferably of her blood, though i’m sure being mortal she would’ve eventually folded just for the chance her people as they were would survive.

people seem to twist herrah into being someone who assaulted pk, although it’s clear the two worked something out prior to it, and wl agreed that this was fine. if pk was truly against it, either herrah would resign the desire for it to be of her brood, or pk would’ve attempted to reach for the help of another.

not only in this case are you villainizing a character coded as a person of color, someone you’d likely already portray as needlessly aggressive, but you’re pulling out the white character as the victim helpless against this other, who had absolutely no choice even though he hated it all the while... if you have done even an ounce of research on the baseless accusations white people will throw toward poc - especially dark-skinned people - regarding assault, you will realize how. bad this is, especially seeing as in-fiction it can be explained and fixed to not have such a power-imbalance or needless pressure.

+ bonus points if you somehow have missed the line where it’s insinuated the higher beings don’t much care about polyamory? of course, wl and pk share a soul, but they don’t seem to mind relations outside of this, especially for something as temporary as herrah’s agreement.

basically, there’s no real need to have made this be so uncomfortably and needlessly non-con on pk’s part. you can bring in the situation with nuance without being creepy about it, i promise.

-> now: HORNET & BATTLE / AGGRESSION

hornet laughs during your battle with her! it’s a nice note that team cherry added, and does add a lot of characterization to the person she’s grown into being after deepnest and hallownest’s falls, using this sort of battle (rather than sparring) to entertain herself and likely seeing it as an inherent part of her life now. outside of battle, she comes across as cold and collected, often not showing much personal care for ghost even if they are a bit intriguing.

however, people will take her demeanor and twist it to make her far more aggressive and verbally confrontational than she’s ever been. not only does it not make sense, but it’s likely linked to people’s treatment of the other spiders. while she can come across as apathetic, and i certainly know i write her that way due to personal nd hcs, it’s very... uncomfortable to have her be thrown to emotion and/or heartless/uncaring toward other's own emotions, especially when she’s stated in-game that she is not heartless even if she keeps her own emotions under wrap. there are times she will snap, yes, but i’m not talking about that. i am speaking of people who make her entire character some sort of ‘anger personified’ without much nuance behind it. it’s a similar problem to what people do when characterizing her mother, reducing them to one trait to make it easier to do jokes or... write serious fic? which you would imagine would at least try to give her depth, and yet she is stripped of her personality and turned to something extremely bland and a caricature we have seen over and over again for the sake of [trope fic here].

( i will also note here it is quite uncomfortable to refer to a younger hornet’s being rambunctious as being “feral” - doubly so if you will blame this half of her on her spider blood. while, being a spider, she may enjoy bouncing around much more than the average bug, there is no need to... negatively associate / outright blame her excited, occasionally chaotic, nature on ‘oh it’s bc she’s a spider’..??? )

-> aside: HERRAH (AGAIN)

please. stop making herrah out to be a bad mother, especially if you are going to use this to uplift pk and wl being parents. you do realize how it’s bad to imply that she was somehow awful and abusive solely on the basis of her title of ‘beast’ and/or "abandoning” hornet, while wl and pk killed thousands upon thousands of their own kin, and pressured the one remaining into upholding their ‘being hollow’, yeah? especially since i’ve already established herrah is coded as a character of color? this isn’t to mention the assumption white people already have that they’re only ever helping / saving by adopting kids of color, often without allowing them any real connection to their culture.

if you need canon reasoning to avoid this stereotype, while herrah did conceive hornet for her people of deepnest, she ultimately admits that she was driven to give her life so hornet could live on in relative peace alongside her people. herrah didn’t fully realize the dreamer plan would fail, that she was leaving behind a child in a world worse than what she knew - all she saw was the chance hornet could live without fear of dreaming, with the deepnest people as her comfort... even hornet says she cannot blame herrah, that despite everything she is thankful for the life herrah tried to give her.

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on: GIJINKAS - RACISM & FATPHOBIA

you really need to consider what biases you’re bringing in when you make gijinkas / human vers

why have you portrayed all of the characters you personally sympathize with as white? quirrel, cloth, myla, monomon, the seer… meanwhile in stark contrast you’re fine tossing shades of ‘tan’ onto the ones more prone to violence? tiso and hornet esp, the other weavers (depending on inteprretation.)

the weavers and the moths especially both have stories reflecting real events, it does make sense that they’d be adapted as poc - but you shouldn’t portray them as irrational or ‘more violent’ or ‘more argumentative’ in comparison to the others (prime example being herrah; there’s no reason she’d be less reasonable than lurien.)

this isn’t me saying to ‘mindlessly make everyone a poc’ because then that’s how you get the pale wyrm / white king being portrayed in a manner he’s not fit for, and often it ends with people drawing white characters but with their skin color being the only thing changed - nothing bothering w giving their hair texture or changing up their noses to fit, or sometimes not even letting their eyes be brown, but a ‘palette swap’ of a white character.

i will also say that it is harmful to erase the body types of characters. if you feel unconfident with trying to draw fat characters, practice! it does help to at least try rather than stay in this fixed mindset “oh well i suck at drawing them so i just Won’t draw them at all / will change their body type :/” you know? also, please don’t be afraid to draw characters with (visible) disabilities! it does make people like myself feel comforted to see us remembered, especially if you do make notes on the pain we must deal with alongside it.

be mindful when you’re making human takes so you don’t fall into negative stereotypes when you’re doing drawings on the side using these designs, or in the designs themselves as applied to the characters as we know them (or how you portray them… in which case, regarding race, there’s a whole issue with how the weavers are taken that i previously spoke about)

remember you aren’t locked to a single design if you realize you were (likely unintentionally) showing off designs w these negative connotations, you can change them, and how you treat a character, at any time. please be mindful, and do research on what cultures of the ethnicity you are going to make the character be.

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on: THE VESSELS - MISGENDERING

it is really, truly, not difficult to not misgender. even if you are learning english, you must become accustomed to the pronoun sets they/them (for groups) and it/its (for inanimate objects). while you may personally believe it’s somehow dehumanizing to refer to people with these pronouns, it is worse still to outright misgender them. there is no excuse to not use these pronouns - although the vessels may be ‘gendered’ in your translation of the game you are accustomed to, when you are translating back to english you must keep in mind that the they/it sets are purposefully used and this is another part you must translate if you mean to communicate with other english players.

if you are aware that they/it sets are used in the english translation, and you still refuse to change your behavior, then you are being transphobic! there’s no way around it - if you can’t use they/it sets for something as simple as fictional, i truly doubt you’d be able to use those sets for me or any others who do not use he or she pronouns what with how adamant you are that these pronouns are somehow incorrect simply because they “don’t exist” in your language (outright ignoring the trans folk who have made room for additional pronouns in your native language)

gender isn’t equivalent to the pronouns used, but it’s a fine indicator oftentimes. using he or she in reference to the vessels in-game which are only ever referred to with they/it is immediately something that will make trans (specifically nonbinary) people uncomfortable with your presence because it comes off that you’re trying to give them genders - regardless of whether or not you try to excuse this with saying you still view them as nonbinary (often as demiboy, demigirl, etc.). there are plenty of nonbinary people who will use he or she pronouns, but in this case, the only pronouns used are they/it and it doesn’t take much to keep that in mind. those are still pronouns that plenty of people identify with and it doesn’t take much effort to fix up your behavior and quit calling the singular usage of these pronouns “incorrect”

while i admit team cherry is not the best with nonbinary rep in the vessels, that is no excuse to claim they somehow need genders to overcome their trauma? their trauma is from being disregarded and dehumanized, not their pronoun usage. if using it/its squicks you out, it doesn’t take much to at least allow the decency of using they/them instead for them, regardless of whether or not you’re a native english player.

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on: FANDOM IS OFTEN UNWELCOMING TOWARD FANS OF COLOR

this is a well-known fact, honestly. fandoms, especially large ones, are hostile toward poc who dare to speak out on their favoring of white characters and disregard for characters of color - no matter how complex they are in the base material. while they can write poetry out of the flattest white side characters, they somehow struggle to consider characters of color in their full potential or depth.

i have already spoken on about this, so i will attempt to keep it short: several times i have simply reminded and somewhat expanded on what team cherry has given the societies outside of hallownest, only for white (adult) fans to counter me with remarks that are simply taking the lore on these societies at face-value. the ironic part? they will emphasize the depth and nuance to pk’s character in turn, despite his one direct dreamnail line. the mosskin, the mantis tribe, the moths, deepnest - they all have just as much environmental storytelling as hallownest (which is centered around pk) does, with even more written lore as to how they functioned and what beliefs they hold. there is much depth there, and yet people would rather favor expanding on the pale king instead of these people, and will even go as far as writing these people off as one-note.

when i attempt to relate events, or at least my more in-depth interpretation of them, to real colonization examples (often regarding the philippines), i am often brushed off as reading too much into it, or that the pale king “had best intentions” and it was somehow really the original culture’s faults for letting their culture be erased / forgotten in place of hallownest? it does hurt to see a lot of you give such depth to hallownest, but quickly cut down anyone who tries to explain hallownest isn’t flawless, and point out their atrocities toward specific peoples that the groups are still attempting to recover from - especially when i will base it on my own experiences as a filipino person who once had a direct connection with my heritage. if you, a white person, can project being trans onto the pale king, could you please let me project my own experiences onto a people that does have basis for what i have researched without feeling the need to make snide remarks about my work or sincerity? especially if you haven't done research yourself.

outside of my own experience, i have seen other friends of mine (or - not even friends! i have seen a few people in the hk tag i do not (yet) follow who i notice deal with this) propose their own ideas of adding their culture to the societies to expand on the depth of them, only for hk fans to disengage or, essentially, say it’s unrealistic for the culture to adapt these traditions. they have yet to provide a good reason as to why, even for giving hallownestian traditions which do not entirely line up with western traditions that the kingdom seems to be based on.

returning, i understand wanting to explore hallownest and how it functioned in its prime, and i understand most western folk find it easier to expand on them as it does seem to have similarities to the ruling there. i am not trying to criticize this part, as i have done the same! i enjoy exploring the characters such as the five knights or the dreamers and their companions, especially, and i tend to favor hallownest too, believe it or not. however, i feel it becomes very clear when people haven’t truly… thought about the other societies beyond how they can fuel the pale king’s story of attempting to ‘coexist’ with them, or their own individual systems and how those would clash with hallownest’s, how most common people immigrating from their homes to hallownest would need to adjust. the societies don’t feel so distinct, and their values begin to feel muddled and underwhelming because there is such an emphasis on hallownest and its grandeur, its end-all plan to encompass the entire area as its own.

i am not asking you to direct attention to muses you do not click with, but… please do consider why you cannot, especially if you find it easy to relate to the pale king or white lady.

---

on: OTHER COURTESIES

-> don’t tag hk-only art as siIksong? please. crosstagging is not only annoying for fans, but it’ll keep some of your art from being seen from people who have the ss tag blocked until it’s released!

-> if you must sexify the bugs, be sure to mark said content as explicit or other ‘not safe for...’ tags

-> please don’t talk about how much you hate a character in the tags of someone’s art

-> please be sure you are not misgendering characters other than the vessels; i’ve found the wiki is a fine place for double-checking if need be

-> it costs nothing to see someone who portrays a character with a stigmatized disorder and not call them an ableist slur for it, especially if it is depicted respectfully and doesn’t lean into dark fiction without any warnings

-> on that note, please do try to do your own research and challenge your biases! it’s a process of changing, and you may (re)initiate it at any point.

-> be sure to listen to people of color, this is a definite if you’re white. however, if you’re a poc (esp if you’re light-skinned) it still doesn’t hurt to listen to others. we all have different experiences!

#hii. been working on this post off and on so i apologize if it's a bit of a mess as i am scatterbrained but...#jestersvaguely #hk posting #long post #negative #ok to rb tho ofc #hollow knight

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livelist · 1 year ago

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God bless your soul, honestly. But can you explain to me why this felt like your responsibility, more than, say, an explosion of rabbits in a similar space and timeframe? It's confusing to hear you simultaneously upset about the many births and the many deaths. Are cats not allowed to undergo predation? Were they not feeding the very same ecosystem they were feeding from? I understand it was very hard for you, but why undertake trying to control wild animals then?

I really don't want a future where all animals are either in enclosures or homes, seperated to prevent natural ecosystems that we find distasteful. I adore my little Zucchini, and keep her inside exclusively because we live in Urban/apartments, but I so wish for her that she could have had a life in nature, meeting other cats, hunting, breeding, and yes, experiencing danger. Cats are honestly just one small example of how humanity is continuously extending our reach and control over the Earth. How will it all end?

These are honest questions that cannot be answered on an individual basis. I know everyone is doing their absolute best to take care of the animals they steward in their homes and environment, but it is genuinely very difficult to know what the best way is. But we must also be willing to ask difficult questions about what we want humanity's impact on the Earth to be. Do we want animals confined to smaller and smaller spaces, eating only food we pre-kill and provide for them, unable to breed outside of our manipulation, never engaging with other species? Zoos only work as "protection and sustainability" if there will eventually be an ecosystem to return them back to. Are we committing the felis catus to a life indoors? That is a space they have only very very recently been confined to. Same with dogs, birds, fishes? How well are we able to replicate what animals need to thrive? We are barely able to create conditions for humans to thrive! Why are we assuming a sexless, threatless, huntless life is whats best for them? Simply because fewer die, but also fewer are born? Are we really so sure that a kitten, killed by a snake a month or two into its life, would rather never have existed? Again, why do we think its fine for a snake to eat birds, bunnies, and mice, but not cats?

Humanity has an existential and dangerous fear of death. This has lead us to push animal slaughter into the industrial shadows, out of average experience. As well as push human death into the institutional and sterilized environment of a hospital. I found myself shocked to realize that I eat meat and plants with no guilt, but feel deeply bad about killing a bug or even picking a wildflower or stomping grass. The alienation of humanity from death is causing environmental and sociological devistation, as we put the prolonging and protection of the individual human life over all other factors, including health, happiness, connection, sustainability, sanity, and more.

I’m sorry this has gotten so big and ranty. But I myself am struggling with these issues all the time. It is so painful to watch my beloved kitty go between laying under the bed and looking out the window every day, with the occasional break in routine of running as fast and chaotically around the room as possible. I start to feel crazy, anxious, and depressed after being stuck in this small space for only a day. She is only allowed to leave when she is stuffed in a carrier and moved to another small, inescapable room when we move every year or so. I suffer at the inhumanity of it all. I considered getting a chameleon but after hearing of someone who regretted it after feeling incredible guilt that all he wanted to do was stare out the window, I decided against it. It is honestly insane hubris to think we can create any substitute for the life they get in the wild.

I am not trying to guilt anyone for their choices: like I said, I love my exclusively indoor cat very very much. I know that if I dumped her in the wild in a fit of guilt she would certainly die. There are no easy answers in a world where our influence involves the rapid destruction of every single natural habitat on earth. But I know that if we continue our trend of increased control, one day we will be burdened with the consequences. Specifically, the few natural ecosystems we have left will be completely reliant on our support to stay alive, and we will not understand them enough to actually provide them with what they need to thrive. Will we one day have to seed clouds to keep the rainforest from turning to desert? Inject probiotics to keep soil from turning to dust? Is there any amount of support we can provide to undo the destruction that we have caused? And how much harder will that support be than the destruction was?

I’m sorry again, perhaps this was a talk that was better made for its own post than a reply on a well-intended post about cats. But this is the topic that brings these questions to my mind almost constantly. There are no easy or independent answers available. I know some people may get mad at me for even bringing all this up. But I hope anyone who reads this will lend me their honest and good-natured thoughts.

Blessings to all beings. Peace and love everywhere, forever.

i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

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arabnico · 4 years ago

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just want to know what’s your opinion lmao I saw you saying solangelo is one of your notps and you didn’t explain so I was just wondering

i guess that’s fine. for me, and that’s been my opinion ever since i first read the books, solangelo is an ableist ship at its core that portrays a really unhealthy dynamic and power imbalance that’s very harmful especially if you take the books’ audience (marginalized children, in that case especially disabled/neurodivergent children and children living in abusive households [not calling the ship abusive. don’t take it that way.]) in mind.

there are a lot of issues with the ship, i do understand it’s “harder” to notice/grasp them if it doesn’t affect you directly. you just can’t deny will is written as a savior character in canon (i’ll get to fanon later). will is repeatedly portrayed to ignore nico’s agency/own choices in regards of his medical needs, is very forceful on nico when he pushes him away in that same context. his phrase or whatever “doctor’s orders” is distasteful and has,, weird and ableist connotations to it. there is an inherent power imbalance that comes with the ship because dating someone who’s ‘responsible’ to provide you with professional medical care is a brinch in power balance and poses a dynamic that makes it look like someone is in some aspect dependent on the other. furthermore, will is shown to cross nico’s boundaries (especially in tho, if i recall well) and like. reading this as a kid who was living in an abusive household (and still is) was very painful and triggering [again, not calling the ship abusive]. plus, will blamed nico for his alienation and made him feel like it’s something that he made up in his own head or whatever which is,, very patronizing to say the least. i am aware of how some people interpreted that particular point in fanon but i see it as... very questionable and just weird. i mean let’s pretend yeah nico imagined his alienation and being pushed away by everyone. wouldn’t that be due to, as his autistic coding in canon implies, his blindness to social cues? it doesn’t matter if it happened or not (it did.) it matters that nico felt the consequences of it and severely suffered through it mentally. dismissing it otherwise is very patronizing and straight up invalidating nico’s trauma which is,, i don’t have to tell you,, bad. nico’s been fending for his own since he was a ten year old child he really doesn’t need someone to hold his hand and kiss his scar after getting a shot or whatever. yeah he shouldn’t have HAD to fend for himself but denying his autonomy in favor of making a ship look like caretaker with a weird savior complex x character with literal and figurative scars to fix is plain ableist idk what to say. also, i just think the implications and connotations of making your first canon gay character, who suffered canonically through heavy internalized homophobia and felt like he had to fix himself somehow, date a healer is... let’s just keep it at distasteful instead of messed up. again, imagine the young gay people you wrote nico FOR reading that. is that the gay rep you praise and want to be given? i am aware tower of nero tried to mend some of those points but it,, just didn’t feel genuine and like the book itself isn’t free of some issues regarding it. imo.

fanon is a whole other story lol. still bad though. most fan content is based on will being a savior and fixing nico or whatever, infantilizing him in favor of highlighting will as a savior hero that cured him completely or whatever. also in those pieces it always features blaming nico for his trauma and everything else and painting him as someone who’s a threat to themself and cannot be left alone to take care of themself like. it’s just disgusting imo. nico is not a child i don’t know what to do to make you all understand that. will is not responsible for nico’s recovery it’s not his job to constantly repeatedly make sure he ate and slept nico didn’t sign up for having will as a nurse but for a boyfriend. nico is responsible for his own healing process he sets the pace you can’t force someone to do something in regards of their medical needs if they don’t agree with it that’s just stepping over boundaries. nico is in charge of his own needs and agency please understand that. personally, i would go as far as to say that i think that making any kind of fan content for the ship is... questionable because how do you acknowledge that the ship is ableist at its core and still feel comfortable catering for it content-wise? maybe it’s just my brain but i just couldn’t do it myself and couldn’t live with myself if i did, it’s just when it comes to consistency with what i believe in and defend and call out. as i said that last point was personal.

i am well aware you can blame most of this on bad writing or ‘out of character’-ness but like. come on lol. you can blame it all on richard if you want to you can’t ignore it completely and it also caused the creation of fan content that is very ableist like idek what to say anymore. anyway that’s very long lol i hope it’s understandable and i was able to get my point across.

#solangelo #anti solangelo #asks #anon #rr crit #rr crit: ableism #og

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 4 years ago

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More dissection of the narrative mirrors that Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are for each other along with the False Romantic Lead that Jiang Cheng falls into next to Lan Wangji's true show of affection. And to outline again, no I do not "ship it", as Wei Wuxian's love of Jiang Cheng was always presented as platonic but a very firm case could be made about Jiang Cheng's nebulous mess of feelings.

Wei WuXian, “ Lan-er-gongzi, what you’re asking for really can’t be explained in a short amount of time. And it’s also strange. If I were to ask you about the GusuLan Sect’s secret techniques, would you answer me?”

Lan WangJi walked past Jiang Cheng and came straight at him. Wei WuXian crossed his flute in front of him, “This is too much, isn’t it? Why so unfriendly? Lan Zhan, just what in the world do you want to do?”

Lan WangJi spoke one word at a time, “Go back to Gusu with me.”

At the peak of Wei Wuxian's rise of becoming the Yiling Laozu (yes yes, I know Patriarch is popular... but I don't like it as a translation at all with this genre.), due to being on edge he does not realize Lan Wangji's pressure for answers is concern and worry, not a rebuke or judgement. He is not asking to punish Wei Wuxian, though with Wei Wuxian's previous experience, Lan Wangji has always been associated with it due to his strict adherence to Gusu Lan principles.

Wei WuXian, “Damage, how much, or none, I know it the best. As for my heart, it’s my heart, after all. I know what I’m doing.”

Lan WangJi, “Some things you cannot be able to control at all.”

Displeasure flashed across Wei WuXian’s face, “Of course I can control it.”

Lan WangJi walked a step closer. He seemed to be about to speak again when Wei WuXian closed his eyes, “Anyways, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?”

Lan WangJi paused. He had suddenly been angered, “… Wei WuXian!”

Wei WuXian had been angered as well, “Lan WangJi! Do you really have to make this difficult for me at such a point in time? You want me to go to the Cloud Recesses for the GusuLan Sect’s confinement punishment? Who do you think you are, what do you think the GusuLan Sect is?! You really think that I won’t resist?!”

Hostile energy formed between the two of them. Over Bichen’s hilt, Lan WangJi’s knuckles turned white. Jiang Cheng’s voice was cold, “Lan-er-gongzi, right now, the chaos with the Wen Sect hasn't stopped yet. This is the time where we desperately need forces. People don’t even have the time to care for themselves, why would the GusuLan Sect be concerned about something so removed from it? Wei WuXian is on our side. Do you want to punish our own people?”

Wei WuXian regained his composure, “That’s right. It’s all good as long as the Wen-dogs are the ones killed. Why care about how I kill them?”

The two knew how to continue each other’s words ever since they were young. Now, one sentence after another, the argument flowed seamlessly, “Apologies for saying something so blunt, but even if we get to the bottom of this, Wei WuXian isn’t from your sect at all. It’s not the GusuLan Sect’s place to punish him. No matter whom he goes back with, it wouldn’t be you.”

Hearing this, Lan WangJi’s expression froze. He looked up at Wei WuXian, the lump at his throat trembling, “I…”

Jiang Cheng on the other hand receives Wei Wuxian happily, but, interestingly does not inquire himself just how Wei Wuxian really is, just that he is happy to take in another supporter to his torture of Wen Chao and Wen Zhuilu. He helps to double down on Wei Wuxian's argument that Lan Wangji is an outsider and has no right to question Wei Wuxian, he belongs to Yunmeng Jiang, in other words, Jiang Cheng. There is the thread of possession there that Wei Wuxian does not realize is from Jiang Cheng, not Lan Wangji. Their places have been twisted to reflect a false sense of security vs the false sense of threat.

Wei WuXian suddenly murmured, “… Lan Zhan.”

He reached out and grabbed at one of Lan WangJi’s sleeves. Lan WangJi had stayed by his side. He immediately bent down and whispered, “I am here.”

Wei WuXian hadn’t woken up yet. His eyes were still tightly shut, yet his hand didn’t let go either. He seemed to be dreaming, muttering, “… Don’t… Don’t be angry…”

Lan WangJi seemed somewhat surprised. Yet his voice was gentle, “I am not angry.”

Wei WuXian, “… Oh.”

Hearing this, as though he finally felt assured, his fingers loosened.

Lan WangJi sat beside Wei WuXian for a while. Seeing that he was motionless again, he was about to stand up when Wei WuXian reached out to him with his other hand, hugging his arm and refusing to let go. He shouted, “I’ll go with you, quick, take me back to your sect!”

Lan WangJi’s eyes widened.

After his outburst, Wei WuXian seemed to have shouted himself awake. His long lashes trembled before he slowly opened his eyes. After his sight finally went from blurred to clear, he suddenly realized that both of his hands were wrapped around Lan WangJi as though he was grasping a straw, clutching at a floating piece of wood within water.

Immediately after Wei Wuxian's reflection of the past, still caught up within that, agrees that Lan Wangji was his true safety and has associated Lan Wangji with protection and concern. Something that Jiang Cheng really was not during their time of the war. The opposite of what was meant to be projected in their younger years as Wei Wuxian has come to learn and admit that Jiang Cheng really did not know him as he once believed. Lan Wangji thirteen years later is also much calmer in the face of Wei Wuxian's own conflict and is quick to reassure him that he is just there for him as a moor of help.

Before, during the first siege of The Grave Mounds, Jin GuangShan led the LanlingJin Sect, while Jiang Cheng led the YunmengJiang Sect; Lan QiRen led the GusuLan Sect, while Nie MingJue led the QingheNie Sect. The former two were the main forces, the latter two could’ve stayed behind. Now, the LanlingJin Sect’s leader hadn’t even arrived, having only sent people for the GusuLan Sect to command; the GusuLan Sect was still led by Lan QiRen; Nie HuaiSang replaced his brother’s position, shrunken within the crowd, his face still full of ‘I don’t know anything’, ‘I don’t want to do anything’, and ‘I’m just here for the numbers’.

Jiang Cheng was the only one still surrounded by hostile energy, face insidious, staring straight at him.

But…Wei WuXian looked slightly to the side. He saw Lan WangJi, who stood beside him, without any hint of hesitation, any thought of withdrawing.

Now, this time, he wasn’t alone anymore.

During the second siege Wei Wuxian dwells on his feelings concerning the two once more. Jiang Cheng has directed his anger away from the Wens and now to Wei Wuxian who he had not worried for, electing to use his hostility to alienate Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji on the other hand silently affirms he is there for Wei Wuxian, and allows him to use his own words, to not speak for him like Jiang Cheng once did.

His second meeting with Jiang Cheng reiterates his distinct distaste for setting foot in Lotus Pier or being in Jiang Cheng's presence alone.

Jiang Cheng interrupted, “It’s just what? You can’t say it? Don’t worry, you can go back to Lotus Pier and say your excuses while kneeling in front of my parents’ graves.”

Wei WuXian calmed himself down and searched as fast as he could for a way out of the situation at hand. Although he had always dreamed of returning to Lotus Pier once before, he didn’t want to go back to the tattered one nowadays!

This is nicely paralleled later when Wei Wuxian is hurt over the idea that he can't be with Lan Wangji in any capacity any longer and knows that he can't take that rejection if it comes to that.

In the beginning, when he was with Lan WangJi, he never thought this was a problem at all. He took it for granted that they’d continue like this, unchanging. But after tonight, maybe he and Lan WangJi couldn’t go back to how they were ever again. Without Lan WangJi, maybe it wasn’t too impossible for him to roam the world on his own.

But a voice in Wei WuXian’s heart told him with certainty, No, you can’t.

Effectively, the two have switched places for Wei Wuxian in the way he associates their places in his life. He wants Lan Wangji's steady presence and genuine questions of his methods to safely overcome things, over Jiang Cheng unquestionably using him as a tool until he realizes Wei Wuxian is his own person, not an extension of him.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan wangji vs jiang cheng #I like character mirroring okay #don't mind me

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lunarreaper-ut · 3 years ago

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Care for a Dance?

(You fans of Kingdomverse? all should thank @owlheartt for sufficiently bribing me into writing this! Thank you once again for the lovely fanart, and I hope this is what you were hoping for!)

A gala… How annoying. Nightmare looked at the room filled with guests, a look of irritation clear on his face. Nightmare wasn’t fond of galas. They were too loud, too crowded, and there were always too many people watching him. The sight of Dream in the middle of it caught Nightmare’s eye, and he frowned.

His elder brother was always much more sociable, even in the beginning. Dream loved talking to people, and everyone he talked to loved him. That’s how it always was, Dream enjoying the love and attention from the people, and Nightmare? Well Nightmare was always doing the same thing as well. Staying out of sight if possible, and watching from the side lines.

‘Ridiculous…’ He thought to himself. ‘How pitiful that a King cannot even interact with his own subjects.’ Nightmare glared at the back of his brother’s head. He could feel his magic swirling inside him in response to his own anger. Nightmare sighed and turned away, trying to ease his own inner turmoil. He’d rather not cause a repeat of events if he could.

Nightmare began scanning the ballroom for Killer, the Guard having disappeared from Nightmare’s side the moment he was given permission to do so. Nightmare sighed in aggravation. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised Killer wanted to mingle, but it was still irritating how quickly Killer abandoned him.

“Useless…” He muttered under his breath.

“What’s useless, Your Majesty?” Killer’s voice appeared behind him. Nightmare turned his head calmly, as if unsurprised at Killer’s sudden appearance. It was hard to startle Nightmare. Killer had his usual grin plastered on his face, and Nightmare narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing. Where have you been?” Nightmare turned towards Killer. “You’re aware you still act as my Guard at these events, right? You’ve been gone for several minutes.” He lectured. Killer chuckled and nodded.

“Of course, my deepest apologies, Your Majesty. I just thought you would like something to drink while we enjoy this event together?” Killer offered a flute of champagne he’d procured on his little adventure. Nightmare looked at the offered drink, and noticed Killer had grabbed one for himself. He sighed and took the glass, looking at the drink in distaste.

“I rarely enjoy these events.” Nightmare looked back over the crowd of people. Killer raised his glass to take a drink, looking Nightmare over as he did so. The King looked irritated, even more so than usual. He’d practically hidden himself away from the people. Killer looked out at the gala as well. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, sharing a drink, dancing and laughing. Even Cross seemed to be coming out of his shell as he danced with Dream.

‘Dancing…’ Killer thought for a moment before turning towards Nightmare.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked, with a slight tilt of his head. Nightmare looked at Killer with a frown.

“No.” He said curtly, finally taking a drink from the glass in his hand. Nightmare again had a look of distaste and set the drink down on a nearby table. ‘He doesn’t like champagne. Noted.’ Killer thought before continuing the conversation.

“May I ask why not, Your Majesty?” Killer tried to make his smile more genuine. Nightmare’s eyes narrowed slightly again, his frown deepening.

“I shouldn’t need to give a reason.” He said lowly, side-eyeing Killer now. The Guard knew he was treading on dangerous waters now. If he pushed too much he was sure to actually anger the King, and then the night would be ruined beyond repair.

“Of course not, Your Majesty. It’s simple curiosity, as you seem like someone who would be rather good at dancing.” Killer said, silently relieved he came up with something that didn’t seem offensive. Killer found he had to bite his tongue quite a bit when it came to Nightmare. The King of Night wasn’t one to tease more than necessary. Nightmare’s look didn’t change much, but he was no longer glaring at Killer from the corner of his eye.

Safe! Killer almost sighed in relief. He supposed he could ask again when Nightmare wasn’t as irritated. Though he was a bit disappointed he wouldn’t get any answers right away-

“I don’t like to be watched by them.” Nightmare said. Killer blinked for a moment, unsure he’d heard properly.

“Watched…?” Killer followed Nightmare’s line of sight, but he didn’t seem to be looking at anyone in particular. “By who, Your Majesty?” Nightmare gave a general sweeping gesture of his hand.

“Them. Any time I show my face I am gawked at as if I’m some sort of spectacle. Surely your lack of eye-lights doesn’t make you blind.” Nightmare looked at Killer. Killer chuckled at the rare tease from Nightmare. The corner of the King’s mouth twitched as if he was about to smile, but he turned away again.

“Dancing has never had an appeal. I don’t want a stranger’s hands on me, nor do I want to be watched by people only waiting for me to slip up.” Nightmare explained. Killer looked out at the crowd again. He supposed that made sense. He’s only been out a handful of times with Nightmare, and each time he could tell people were watching them. Nightmare’s past haunts him even more so than Killer’s.

Killer didn’t push on the subject, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. People watching was nice regardless, Killer liked seeing what others got up to when they didn’t think anyone was watching. Call him a creep, but entertainment is entertainment. Killer found his eyes often drawn back towards the people dancing though.

Killer wasn’t much of a dancer himself, but he liked the activity enough. Though he usually used it as a way of getting someone comfortable with him before he… Well Killer got his name for a reason. He looked down slightly at his gloved hands. He was never ashamed of his past, but for some reason, whenever he stands next to Nightmare while thinking of his past deeds, Killer feels dirty.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought before he felt Nightmare tense up next to him. Killer was at attention in an instant, looking around before seeing what the issue was. Dream was coming over. Nightmare was always a bit tense when it came to his brother. Talking about Dream and Nightmare’s relationship was one of the few things Killer didn’t do. Not yet at least.

“Brother!” Dream’s voice was cheery as he came up the stairs to where Nightmare and Killer were standing, Cross close behind him. Cross and Killer’s eyes met and Killer grinned nice and big. Cross frowned at his fellow Guard. The two didn’t like each other much.

“What are you doing all the way over here? You should be enjoying the gala with us!” Dream said, smiling at his brother. Nightmare gave him an indifferent look.

“Enjoying a gala is something you do. I’ve never been fond of these events.” Nightmare said. Dream’s smile faded a bit, but he persisted.

“Well… That could change? Maybe we could-”

“Do what, Brother? Drink, talk to the people? These people are here for you, Brother, not for me.” Nightmare’s voice was cold, and he practically glared down the elder brother. Dream frowned.

“That’s nonsense. We’re both their Kings, they’re here for us. Not just me!” Dream argued. Nightmare let out a short laugh.

“Oh please, here for us? The moment any of them see me they stare as if they’re afraid I’ll strike them down! I don’t understand why you’re so blind to that.” Nightmare said.

“That’s not true! I’m sure they just-”

“If you’re determined to remain oblivious, I’m not going to continue this subject with you. I don’t feel like having the same conversations we had over a millennia ago.” Nightmare cut him off, beginning to walk past Dream. Killer and Cross shared a look before Killer began to follow his King. Dream tried to call after Nightmare, but was ignored.

Killer followed Nightmare out into the gardens, the moon providing enough light for them to have walked without the need of the lanterns that lit the place. The gardens were always nice. Both of the Kings were rather fond of them as well. Eventually, Nightmare stopped walking and sat down at one of the benches scattered around the gardens.

Killer didn’t sit, and instead stood beside him. Killer would rarely sit with Nightmare unless he was told to. Nightmare sighed heavily, and Killer looked down towards him. He knew better than to ask if the King was alright. That usually only irritated him. Killer looked up at the sky, the stars shining clearly without a cloud in sight. It was a beautiful night.

The two sat in silence for a while, before Killer spoke up.

“Would you like to dance, Your Majesty?” Killer asked, looking towards the King. Nightmare looked at Killer, a mix of confusion and irritation on his face.

“What?”

“I’ve asked if you’d like to dance with me, Your Majesty. You said you weren’t fond of people watching you, but there is no one around.” Killer said. Nightmare gave a cursory glance around them, and Killer continued. “You also expressed distaste for a stranger being your partner, but I am no stranger.” Killer held out his hand towards the King in offering.

Nightmare stared at his hand before looking up at Killer’s face, seeming to search for something. Killer waited, his hand still held out towards the King. Nightmare seemed to hesitate for a moment before carefully placing his hand in Killer’s outstretched one. Killer helped the King to his feet, guiding him to the center of the area of the gardens they were in.

Despite them being outside, the music from the gala could still be heard filtering into the gardens. Killer lightly placed a hand on Nightmare’s hip, using his other to hold the hand Nightmare had given him. Nightmare seemed uneasy, but didn’t refuse. Killer began to guide Nightmare into a simple waltz, giving Nightmare one of his few genuine smiles.

Nightmare stared at Killer’s face, the tension in his body leaving as the two continued to dance together. Nightmare wasn’t an experienced dancer, and may have missed a couple steps, but Killer remained quiet, instead giving the King an encouraging smile. Nightmare had to try not to look at his own feet at times.

“I hate that you seem to be better at this than I.” Nightmare huffed, causing Killer to chuckle.

“It’s natural I’d be better at it, seeing as I’m more familiar with dancing.” Killer said, a slight tone of pride in his voice. Nightmare gave him a deadpan look.

“You, familiar with dancing? I didn’t peg you as the type.” Nightmare said. Killer shrugged, grinning again.

“What can I say? Many people have difficulties resisting my charms.” Killer said, causing Nightmare to roll his eyelights.

The two danced together for quite some time, until Nightmare began to tire, and decided it was time to turn in for the evening. Despite his distaste for galas, Nightmare had to admit that he didn’t mind this one. He supposed he didn’t mind dancing all that much either… So long as it was with the right person.

#Kingdomverse?#Kingdomverse #Killermare #Luna's writing #KV!Killer #KV!Nightmare #KV!Dream #KV!Cross

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agent-cupcake · 4 years ago

Text

Beastie and the Bard

Fire Emblem Three Houses - Dimitri x Reader - Chapter 9

Word Count: 11,631

I bet you thought I’d forgotten about this. Nope, not yet. I actually have a fully fleshed out framework for where this story is going with a scene by scene breakdown. You can read the previous chapters on my blog or on AO3

This chapter takes place during the first part of the month before the Battle of Garreg Mach.

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 1

There was something surreal about sitting in the classroom again, the desks arranged in their neat rows and Professor Byleth facing you all from his usual place. Not even a week had passed since your last class, since your last private conversation with Dimitri, but everything had changed. Peace, whatever dregs had been left of it after everything that had happened, was utterly destroyed. Any illusion of safety behind the old stone walls of the monastery was waved away into smoke. No more laughter, no more fun. The monastery swarmed with word of Emperor Edelgard’s treasonous claims and threats, words weaponized to spread disquiet.

It was almost a relief when Professor Byleth said it, confirming something that everybody already knew. “There is going to be a battle,” he told you all, his voice striking the silent room without any particular cadence. “Scouts report that the Imperial army led by Emperor Edelgard will be here by the end of the moon.”

By the end of the moon. You tried to calculate the days but knew that it wasn’t any more than three weeks. Less, actually.

“So soon?” Ingrid asked, her voice breathy with the shock you felt echoed within yourself.

“This plan has been underway for longer than we could have guessed,” Professor Byleth said. He winced, an odd tick of an expression. “I’m sorry for not seeing this sooner.”

“We don’t blame you, Professor,” Annette said. “Who could have known, right? We all thought...” she trailed off, but there was no point in continuing. You had all thought, you had all been so distracted.

“We can’t let ourselves get caught up on that, Annie,” Mercedes chided.

“You’re right,” Professor Byleth said. “Now, we must prepare for what is to come. Before we begin, does anybody have any questions?”

Nobody said anything. You scanned the faces of those you could see. Dimitri and Dedue sat in front of you, giving you only a profile glimpse of drawn expressions of exhaustion. Of those sitting in your row, nerves cast a sickly pallor over Ashe’s freckled cheeks, painted shadows beneath Annette and Mercedes’ eyes. You wondered how you looked. Tired, probably. You felt as if you hadn’t slept all week.

“Right,” Professor Byleth called, folding his hands behind his back in something akin to parade rest. It was interesting how quickly he had traded a mercenary’s unrefined motions for the more commanding stances of a general. “Dimitri, have you heard any word about what’s happening in Fhirdiad? Seteth’s reports indicate that they’re hesitating in committing any troops to defend Garreg Mach.”

“My uncle is blind,” Dimitri responded with obvious distaste. “He rejects reality. Foolish man.” Although nearly everyone knew of Rufus’s incompetence, Dimitri’s genuine and open scorn for the man, his uncle, was shocking.

“According to my father,” Felix added from behind you, his tone far more measured, “there is opposition within that prevents the regent from committing any men. Not to mention, the Kingdom troops are already spread thin along the western border.”

“Um, excuse me,” Ashe said, nervously raising his hand as if this were a normal class. “There is good reason for that. Professor, may I?”

“Please,” Professor Byleth said, motioning Ashe to continue. He looked from face to face nervously, fidgeting awkwardly in his seat. You were close enough to see the red rimming his eyes, the white skin on his chapped lips. But he spoke and his voice was steady enough, his gaze even as he addressed the class.

“Lord Lonato named me as his heir,” Ashe said, “although I have not yet claimed the title, the Church has allowed me to remain informed about what is happening in his territory. I am… I’m afraid there seems to be some conflict over how the western lords intend to act. After what happened, many of them have been actively rejecting Church aid. Should this become an all-out war-”

“They intend to betray the Church,” Dimitri said, turning and narrowing his eyes at Ashe. “No—to betray their country, is that it?”

“There could be another explanation,” Ashe said.

“I’m sure there is,” Professor Byleth said, motioning to calm them. “What you’re saying is that we can’t count on the western lords for help.”

“Yes,” Ashe answered, his shoulders slumping somewhat. “I’m sorry.”

“I cannot help but wonder if that was the intention,” Dedue said.

“What do you mean?” Byleth asked.

“It is merely speculation,” Dedue began hesitantly, like he was unsure if he should be voicing his opinion. “However, it seemed strange that Lord Lonato would raise a rebellion in the manner he did when he did. Unless he had outside support with considerable sway-”

“You think the Empire is behind Lord Lonato’s betrayal?” Mercedes asked.

“As I said,” Dedue told her, his expression unreadable, “it is merely speculation. But it would explain a great many things. Faerghus is more divided now than ever, it is difficult to believe that is a simple coincidence.”

“Duscur, Lonato, the Church,” Dimitri said, “the infection of the Flame Emperor’s touch has been festering in the Kingdom for far too long. And they would choose to ignore it rather than fighting for their country. Have they no honor?”

“Does any of this matter?” Felix interjected, clearly annoyed. “Even if the Empire did have something to do with the failed rebellion, Lonato is dead now. We can’t waste our time wondering about the motives of a dead man. We need to focus on the problems at hand.”

Dimitri raised his chin imperiously in reaction to that statement, although he didn’t object, turning to face the front again. Ashe sunk back in his chair, pressing his shaking hands flat against the table. Felix’s cruelty was expected at this point, but Dimitri’s was still a fresh wound. You could understand that. You put your hand over Ashe’s, pleased at how steady it was. Your eyes met and you nodded to him, hoping the show of support was enough. His lips quirked in what could almost be counted as a grateful smile.

“About that,” Sylvain said, breaking the tension somewhat with his easy tone. “I received word from my father. He said that he’d send men, but they still won’t get here in time. It’ll take an entire moon for any sizable force to get here. Best case scenario, the Empire forces are delayed, and we can bolster our numbers.” He didn’t continue with the worst-case scenario, but he didn’t need to. The little helpless shrug was more than enough.

Byleth nodded thoughtfully. “This will be a decisive battle, but we’ll be in need of fresh soldiers after the fact no matter which way it goes.”

“Win or lose, you mean,” Felix said dryly.

“We won’t lose,” Annette said. “With the Professor on our side, we’re definitely going to win. Right?” Her blue eyes jumped from face to face, searching desperately for confirmation of her plea.

“Right,” you agreed, trying to unravel the knot of fear and dread tangling in your stomach. You had to work past that, to remain strong. “No matter what, we can’t let the Empire scare us into submission. If we do that, we might as well give up before the battle even starts.” Could they hear past the conviction in your voice to the weak wobble that laid beneath? At the very least, Annette smiled in return. That was enough.

“We will win,” Dimitri said. “When I have her head in my hands, there will be peace. For all of us.” Even in profile, you could see the sickly smile he wore as he considered that. Compared to any regular expression of joy or pleasure, this was a ghastly, inhuman expression. One you had seen before.

“Dimitri, when was the last time you slept?” Professor Byleth asked, tilting his chin up as he considered the prince.

“Slept? I...” Dimitri replied, his eyes snapping upward and the smile dropping. A moment later, his expression froze over. “That is unimportant.” Even for Professor Byleth, this was dangerous territory.

“What about your last meal?” Professor Byleth pushed.

“That is no concern of yours,” Dimitri said, meeting his eyes evenly. “And assuming it was… I have no appetite.”

“Oh, so is that your plan?” Felix called, his voice dripping scorn. “You’re going to kill yourself before that girl can do it for you?”

“Felix,” Dedue said, a warning in his voice as he turned to scowl at him.

“Shut up, dog. I’m tired of your sycophantic denial,” Felix snapped. “Wake up, boar. If you want to lose your mind, do it on your own time. Right now, there are more important things to worry about.”

“Hm,” Dimitri said in response.

“Felix, calm down,” Ingrid said, her worry clearly etched into a frown.

“You’re telling me to calm down?” Felix asked her. “Am I the only one who understands what’s at stake here? You want me to spare the feelings of a mad boar… For what? How is pity for him going to save the lives of the people here? What good is compassion against an upcoming war? This is a farce.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Dimitri said, standing with the sharp scraping of wood on stone. “I recommend you all prepare yourselves. We will crush the enemy as soon as they dare to enter through the gates. And as soon as Edelgard draws near... I will have my revenge.”

Dimitri let that ominous threat hold in the still air. Dust motes played in the light streaming in through the windows, disturbing into a frantic swirl of a dance as he left the room with a swish of his blue cape. Dedue followed with a hurried, “Pardon me.” The doors shut behind them, but not before allowing in a chilly draft of cold wintery air. You didn’t even think about it, pushing away from the table with dread settling like ice in your heart.

“You’re going to go after him, aren’t you?” Felix accused, pinning you in place with his glare.

“What?” you asked, feeling the attention settling on you.

“Give me a break,” Felix said, his lip curling back in outright disdain, “you’re not fooling anybody. You’re as bad as that boar’s lapdog, constantly following him around as you do.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said slowly, carefully.

Felix scoffed. “Anybody with a set of eyes can see the truth. If he’s the boar’s lapdog,” he said, nodding towards the door Dedue had just departed through, “then you’re his bitch.”

You recoiled as if he’d physically struck you. It felt like it, almost. Heat built up urgently behind your eyes, ringing with the pulsing stream of blood in your ears. Like the first time you’d been punched in the face, you just felt stunned.

Did he know the extent of your feelings? You supposed they had been transparent from the start; you were an idiot to believe you’d ever fool anyone. All the same, thick shame began to congeal in your gut, rising up like bile. “That’s a terrible thing to say,” you said into the ensuing shocked silence, your voice soft with pained shock, light and airy in order to get past the swell of tears in your throat.

“Felix, that’s enough,” Sylvain said in warning, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. Felix shook off Sylvain’s hand by standing up, glaring at him, too.

“You’re all fools. You think you’re being kind, but all you’re doing is enabling him to destroy himself,” Felix said. “We don’t have a chance of winning if we spend all of our time worrying about a mad boar. Tell me when we’re actually going to discuss something important. Until then, I’ll be training.” He turned on his heel and left without any further objection.

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 2

There weren’t enough knights to do everything that needed to be done in preparing Garreg Mach for the impending battle. That meant that many of the less intensive tasks fell to the students to complete, including evacuation of civilians.

Those who had the resources to do so were able to get out practically on the day of Edelgard’s betrayal, like wildlife that could smell a storm before it broke, people scattered away from the encroaching doom. Others weren’t so fortunate. They were poor, they had families, they had settled their lives in Garreg Mach as surely and firmly as the old stone walls.

Getting those people to safety was absolutely essential and important, but the reality of the matter was grim. The friendly territories of the western kingdom and along the Alliance and Faerghus border were quickly becoming packed with refugees. Not just from Garreg Mach, but from the northern Empire. Asylum seekers from the Imperial recruitment and cruelty.

Most of those people were used to the mild winters in Central Fódlan, so those who were forced further north into the kingdom weren’t accustomed to the harsh conditions. Already, there were rumors of entire camps of refugees left dead from exposure. Or bandits, the Kingdom was still rife with lowlife thugs like Miklan. And that wasn’t even to mention the fact that the civil unrest had already left Faerghus without enough resources over the winter months.

The Alliance wasn’t much better, most of their energy was put into fortifying their own defenses and the little wars of internal conflict. You had never paid much attention to how divided the Alliance was after Duke Riegan’s death. Claude insisted he could get a handle on it, but there was only so much he could do for the time being.

That was the general feeling in Garreg Mach. There was only so much you could do. Only so much anyone could do.

You helped load another family onto an overpacked cart with only the most essential of their possessions. Families of the soldiers got priority, and this caravan was thick with children. Despite the hapless sounds of crying children and soft weeping, there was a hush over the once lively square. A somber farewell.

Having done all you could, you stepped back. You couldn’t help but focus on a young girl towards the back. She had a ghostly white face and clutched a doll to her chest with hands still round and dimpled with baby fat, her mother’s arm draped across those tiny shoulders to keep her from bumping into the strangers they would be traveling with. Tears glazed those sweet baby blues, exhaustion ringed the young mother’s eyes. Her husband, a young soldier who had hung around to say goodbye, would be staying and risking his life. He kissed both girls with the desperate fervor of a man who knew, on some level, that this was goodbye forever.

You wanted to believe that this was the best thing, and it was, but you knew what it was to be displaced at such a young age. You knew what it did to people. You knew what goodbye forever felt like. Selfish as it was, you felt almost as if you could see yourself in those glassy young eyes. It was just all too familiar.

Thinking of your mother, as always, was a painful thing. After realizing the magnitude of the situation, you had sent several letters to her nurses and the man you had left in charge of your Fhirdiad estate to warn them of what was coming. Right now, you held onto the belief that the battle at Garreg Mach would stop the war from invading into Faerghus, which meant that your mother was fine to stay in the country mansion. Besides, you worried about what the city would do to her system, she was already in such a poor state.

But that was a worry for another time.

The horses were kicked into motion and the cart rolled over the smooth cobblestones to the great somewhere else. You hoped the goddess went with them, keeping them safe. When they fully disappeared through the gate into the cloudy winter sunrise, you turned on your heel to return to the monastery. After such a long night of patrolling and a morning of packing up civilians, this was the last thing you wanted to do, but you had already put it off too long.

If you were a good person, or even a good leader, you would have visited your company the moment you had any solid news about what was happening. But you weren’t. You didn’t.

Not all of the soldiers employed by the Church stayed in the monastery, which was reserved primarily for the knights and those with high standing in the militaries of the three countries. In a section wedged between the monastery proper and the town of Garreg Mach, a large camp of barracks had been laid out for all of the other soldiers. The organization of it was a bit strange, considering most of them had separate allegiances and very few of them reported to the same generals. Lady Rhea would be considered their High Marshal in theory, but that was just about the only unifying force. Each battalion of soldiers was employed to serve whichever student Officer they had been assigned, so they worked both as an independent, almost mercenary-like group as well as military personnel.

You had always felt awkward with your own battalion, unsure of how to command or treat them. Lieutenant Avery was basically the leader of your company. There was no question of the men’s loyalty, your authority wasn’t the highest to those men, even if they were technically yours to lead. That had never bothered you, not in the way it should have. Only recently had you begun to feel shame about the fact. So many other students had been found to have traitorous Imperial soldiers under their command, a massive embarrassment to the Church as well as cause for distrust of the students themselves.

The vacancy of the empty barracks segmented for the Imperially sourced companies was hostile. Urgent intensity passed between the men who were still hanging around in thinning groups, performing the first of the day’s chores or hanging around in hunched clusters, creating an atmosphere so oppressive you almost found it hard to breathe. They were in a strange place. Staying pitted them against their country, but to leave would be a betrayal against the Church. Nobody trusted them either way, forcing them to congregate only among themselves. That was what Edelgard had done. Verbal poison, the warfare of the mind, turning everybody against one another. Unifying a country, it seemed, required mass division first.

Your men were placed in the no man’s land at the outside of the Kingdom barracks. Professor Byleth had offered you several companies of Kingdom patriots, but you hadn’t felt drawn to them like you were to Avery’s Wyvern Co. They were fresh soldiers among the large array of companies out for the Church to hire, only having arrived shortly before the year began. In truth, you weren’t even completely certain that they were soldiers to begin with. Avery was a strange person with a mysterious background and you truly believed he was a good man, but there was something about him that lacked the shine and polish of a soldier.

Not that it mattered much to you. You liked him; you liked the men. Amidst the dark and oppressive atmosphere of the barracks camp, he and his men sat around a fire, eating breakfast, and chatting among themselves.

“Fancy this!” Avery called as you approached, his grin lit up in brushed orange and distorted by the smoke of the dancing flames. “And here I was just wondered what had happened of our dearest Captain.” The complete disregard of proprietary and respect was utterly inappropriate, but it was clear that Avery never meant anything strange by it. What was strange to you was how easy-going he sounded. Compared to the rest of the Garreg Mach, it was like laughter at a funeral. You didn’t mind it. This task was dour enough without a bad atmosphere. “Why don’t you sit?” Avery offered, gesturing to the bench seat by him. “Have you eaten? I’m sure there’s still more...”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you told him, sitting. “I’m… sorry to not have visited sooner. You’re all doing well?”

“Better than you, it looks like,” Wendell, one of the men who had been wounded in the Sealed Forest, told you. After your concern for his injuries following the battle, he seemed just as loyal to you as Avery. “If you don’t mind me saying, of course.”

“Wen,” another man, Euston, scolded dryly. “You can’t say things like that to a young lady.”

“She’s our Captain,” Avery said, lightly hitting Euston across the back of the head. “Show some respect.”

Euston laughed, undeterred. “You’re one to talk, worrying about her like some kind of mother hen.”

“Is it wrong to care? This past moon has been difficult,” Avery said. Everyone sobered up at the reminder. Difficult was probably an understatement. “You were there when the Emperor revealed herself, weren’t you?” Avery asked you. “I heard what happened. The prince-”

“Dimitri’s fine,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “And I…” You meant to say that you were fine, to reassure them that their captain was steady and sure. But you couldn’t. “That’s actually what I’ve come to talk to you all about. As I’m sure you’re all well aware of by now, there is going to be a battle. The rumors are true. Imperial troops are estimated to arrive by the end of the moon.”

Avery whistled, a quiet rumble of dissent waving over the men. “That soon? She must have been planning this awhile.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, hating to think of it. While you were carelessly training and falling in love and having your heart broken, she was sowing chaos, arranging a war. “And I’m sorry for neglecting you all. I should have done this sooner.”

“That doesn’t bode well,” Euston said.

“If you wish to leave, you’re free to do so,” you told them, your voice raised as you forced yourself to look from face to face, to not shy away from this task. Every expression you acknowledged was set in various degrees of stony to bemused, as if they couldn’t believe what you were saying. “I’ll personally pay you three moons’ wages… More if you act as an escort for the civilians leaving Garreg Mach. You’ll also get a glowing recommendation for your service thus far.”

“The odds are that grim, eh?” Avery asked. Everyone was watching you, waiting for your answer.

“Um…” you began forcing yourself not to clam up under the pressure. “Yes. A-and no. The chances of victory are… Well, nobody really knows at this point. But even if we win, this is a full… a full-on military assault. Edelgard… Emperor Edelgard means all-out war. The Church is just the beginning. I won’t force anyone to fight, I know that none of you ever signed on for allegiance to the Kingdom, or even the Church.”

That began another wave of grumbling, words you couldn’t quite make out as that information was digested. The fire was dying, but the rising sun illuminated enough for you to see the uncertainty on every face, the doubt. You were confirming things they already knew.

“If there’s going to be a war anyway, where would we go?” Lester asked loudly. He was the other one who was wounded in the Sealed Forest. You didn’t like to think of yourself as buying forgiveness to assuage your guilt for his injury, but you did know he had an affinity for chocolate. “Seems like a victory here is our best bet to avoid that.”

“Yeah,” Euston agreed. “War seems like it would be… annoying. We came to the Church because they give us the easy life. Or, they did before this mess all started.” General assent followed his words, heads nodding.

“I’d never forgive myself if I left you here, Captain,” Wendell said. “I may not care that much for the Kingdom or the Church or anything, but I like you. Never known a noble who was so...” He waved his hand, at a loss for words. “You know… The point is, I’m staying.”

“Wendell…” you said, your voice half choked. “Thank you.”

“So, does anyone want to take up our generous Captain on her offer?” Avery asked. Silence met his question, a resounding answer in its own right. You swallowed down the lump in your throat, hating to feel the pressure of tears at the back of your eyes.

“Thank you. It is… my greatest honor to lead you all,” you said, feeling that the words weren’t enough but knowing it was the best you could do. To them, a company of seasoned men, what were you? A slip of a girl pretending to lead them. And yet, they would follow you.

“When this is all over, you’re gonna owe us all a drink,” Euston said. “I’ve always wanted to try that plum liquor they make in Morfis.”

“When this is over, I’ll owe you all a hundred drinks,” you said. “So you’d better all make it, okay?”

“Yessir,” most of them said in unison, touching forefingers to their brows or giving you half-salutes. You let out a heavy breath, glad to be done with that and feeling far better than you had upon arrival.

“I’ll be off, then,” you said, standing up and stretching. The sun had risen, but the sky was miserably gray and cloudy. One of those days. It seemed like all days were one of those days.

“I’ll walk you back,” Avery said, standing.

“You don’t need t-”

“Come on,” he said without waiting. You waved to the rest, even getting some smiles in return, before hurrying to match his stride.

In a way, you were glad for the company. The tension among the battalion camp was just as uncomfortable now as it had been on the way in, but now people were moving around. There was an endless supply of jobs anymore, always something for someone to do.

“It was good of you to offer that,” Avery said.

“Do you think any of them will accept?” you asked. Nobody had spoken up at the moment, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t in private. You didn’t fault that.

“No, we stick together. No matter what.”

“They’re very loyal to you.”

“Like I said, we stick together,” Avery said. “You never asked what we did before we came to Garreg Mach, or why.”

“I didn’t think it was important,” you responded.

“I can’t tell if you’re too naive or too kind,” Avery said, shooting you a sideways smile. “When you picked us, I was braced for the worst type of brat, that’s what we signed up for. But you’re not that. Sure, you’re incompetent, but I know you mean well.”

The casual jab hurt, but the praise leveled it out. Somewhat. Besides, he was right.

“Even if you were the worst of them, we’d have taken it. It’s like… penance. But you’re not, so I figure I should give you a chance to decide you want men like us following you.”

“I don’t care about your past,” you said.

“We were criminals,” Avery said, acting as if he hadn’t heard you. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his eyes forward and expression schooled into a serious mask. “Damned good ones, too. We all came from villages near the Almyran border, grew up on the backs of wyverns, always dreamed of being accepted into Gonerill’s army. I got my own company before I really realized it; the fight with the Almyrans is pointless. Fighting for fighting’s sake. You lose limbs and lives in what amounts to little more than a game, there’s nothing respectable or sane about it. So, we, my men and I, deserted.”

“Oh,” you said, stunned by the confession.

“After that, we terrorized people, thinking we had some sort of right to do it because at least we weren’t liars like all of the nobility who toss lives away like trash. We only took from the rich and called it justice.” Avery sighed regretfully. “The things we did… the things I did... “

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” you said doubtfully, trying to imagine somebody like smiling Wendell doing what Avery was describing.

“I destroyed people’s lives,” Avery said. “Because of me, children lost their fathers, women lost their husbands... One day I looked at what I had done, what we were doing, and knew that I was damned. I came to the monastery to beg forgiveness, to serve the children who I might have ruined.”

The two of you were approaching the front gate. Cold shivers had crept up your spine, over your arms. Bandits had killed your father, ruined your mother. Ruined you, in a way, even if it was liberation.

But Avery didn’t know that. Besides, it couldn’t have been Avery. To believe in such a coincidence was too awful, too cruel. Avery was a good man, you believed that.

“Now you know who it is that serves you, Captain,” he said, stopping and facing you. He didn’t have the face of a bad man. His skin was leathery and crinkled from too many years in the sun and the line of his nose was an uneven mess from being broken a time or two. He surveyed you with a neutral expression, waiting for your judgment.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said carefully, willing yourself to not become emotional. “I think… I’m not the person to forgive you, but… But it would be really hypocritical of me to judge you. A man I lo―care about quite a bit is in a similar position, looking to the goddess for help and forgiveness, and I… What else is there? As long as you keep trying to be a better person and… Um… I don’t think any less of you. I’m grateful that you trust me.”

Avery measured that response for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Then it is my genuine pleasure to serve under your command.”

“And I’m going to be better,” you told him. “I know I’ve been a poor captain. Most of the time I feel like a child, but I… We can both be better, right?”

“I’d like to think so.” Avery smiled, encouraging you to do the same. “Have a good day, captain. And consider getting some rest”

“I will,” you said. Consider it, at least. Sleep was evasive these days. Besides, there was so much to do. Still, after Avery left, you did take a moment to breathe, to consider what he told you. It didn’t change anything, did it? Yet somehow, you felt more hopeful. And distraught. It seemed the world was insistent that you not let go of your past, throwing it back in your face like this.

But there wasn’t much time for contemplation like that. You hurried back to the monastery, determined to make the most of this ugly gray day.

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 3

Six days had passed since Professor Byleth had called you all together to discuss the state of things. You felt the passing of each hour acutely, the countdown dragging the monastery closer and closer to uncertain ruin. Yet, at the same time, it seemed as if the clock was crawling along, prolonging the nightmare-ish state.

Felix hadn’t so much as looked at you since that disastrous last confrontation.

Dimitri only occasionally showed up when he was summoned.

And you were silly. Stupid, even. Why you felt the need to volunteer yourself to go get him to come to the meeting today, you didn’t know. He was more likely to listen to Professor Byleth anyway. But you did. Of course you did.

The vaulted space of the cathedral was nearly always filled with those who thought to pray for aid from the Goddess. Devoted and questioning alike gathered up to pray for their souls, to pray for their loved ones, to pray for some measure of comfort. Everywhere buzzed with word of Emperor Edelgard’s proclamations and the size of her forces and the fearsome strength of her military, whispered rumors dripping in like poison along with the prayers.

Dimitri spent a great deal of time in the cathedral. Nobody really knew why, people whispered about it like it was some great mystery that a man half mad would think to reach out to the goddess for guidance, but you thought you understood. Avery’s desire for penance was fresh in your head, and you could remember Dimitri’s words that night in the Goddess Tower, almost like a melody you couldn’t quite shake from your head.

“The goddess just watches over us from above… That is all. No matter how hard someone begs to be saved, she would never so much as offer her hand. And even if she did, we lack the means to reach out and grasp it. That’s how I feel about her.”

And you knew that he was the one most affected by Edelgard’s betrayal, the one suffering the most pain. You kept your promise that you wouldn’t tell anybody of his true connection to the Emperor, but it haunted you. The moment of her mask falling away had cut some integral thread of forced composure that Dimitri had been clinging to as a lifeline, and without it he’d fallen victim to the very worst parts of himself. He spent so much of his time reaching towards the goddess for a lifeline because, despite the brutal killings you had seen him commit, he was weak.

You were weak, too. Although you had a reason to seek him out, your feet took you to him because they always did, they always brought you to him. You were so, terribly weak.

Upon passing through the gate of the cathedral, it was impossible to miss Dimitri. Everybody gave him a wide berth of space when passing, casting him nervous side glances, and whispering to their companions in hushed tones. He stood alone like an exhibit in a museum. Rumors had spread about Dimitri just as quickly as they had about Edelgard. Rumors of madness, of insanity. It was upsetting to hear, heartbreaking that he was viewed as little more than a spectacle, but you shrugged them off. It didn’t matter what people thought, or at least you couldn’t blame them. They were ignorant and afraid, and while Edelgard was still far away, Dimitri was right in front of them.

He, as had become usual, stood in his grand stage of empty space. A position he could occupy for hours without break. Dimitri’s uniform wasn’t as neat as he had usually kept it, and his hair needed to be cut. Your heart softened upon seeing him. A foolish, stupid feeling. Unwanted entirely. You knew that things had changed and could keenly remember the many times he’d snapped at you for doing what you were about to do. Whatever tenderness that had been cultivated within him before now was gone. Withered away like flowers in the frost, a sweet melody played sour on an out of tune lyre.

But you refused to stop, and you especially refused to be frightened of Dimitri, or believe that he would do anything to hurt you.

It was better to stick only to present concerns. Such as the fact that he was muttering to himself again. Words you couldn’t quite hear over the hushed noise of the devout. Dimitri’s lips moved with a rhythm that made it seem like he was speaking to something, someone. The dead, his dead. You had heard him use their names once, addressing people who were long gone and buried. Glenn, father, stepmother. He stopped whenever someone was close enough to pick out details, but you heard them all the same.

Melancholy intermingled with a deep, bone-grinding fear at seeing him like this. Many poems or songs you knew spoke of insanity, but none of their descriptions truly matched the broken man in front of you. They saw the afflicted through the eyes of a romantic. In other words, a lovely lyrical lie. What most of them had in common, however, was an eventual tragedy. With every fiber of your being, you swore to not allow him to become victim to such a fate.

You had failed once. You couldn’t handle another. You were weak.

“Dimitri?” you asked, striding up to him with a level of cheery confidence you weren’t so sure you felt. The eyes of a crowd of outsiders followed you now that you had broken the bubble of space surrounding the prince that frightened them so, watching as if you were approaching a beast in the woods unarmed.

Dimitri didn’t respond, either ignoring you or lost in thought of whatever he’d been muttering about. You would have preferred the former, because at least then he’d still be with you, not sunken down into some dark void that you couldn’t possibly reach him in. Unfortunately, you suspected it was the latter, what with the way his blue eyes were ringed with deep shadow and glazed over. You couldn’t even imagine the last time he must have slept. According to Dedue’s careful vigilance, he spent his days in the cathedral and his nights on the training grounds, throwing himself into combat practice so intensely nobody dared intervene. Not even you.

“Dimitri?” you asked again, a bit louder, daring to reach out a hand to get his attention. The touch startled him, and for a moment you were almost afraid that he was going to strike out. He didn’t, although you could tell by the way his body was coiled and poised that it had been a close thing. But he didn’t, and that was all that mattered.

“What is it?” Dimitri asked in the clipped and cold tone of an accusation. The familiar blue of his eyes was flat when they found focus on your face, his stare without any recognition for your feelings or softness for who you wished you were to him. It hurt, it still hurt. Maybe it would always hurt when he looked at you like that, maybe your heart would never scar over and allow you to recognize that this version of him wasn’t truly who he was. You began to rack your brain for a proper verse about the pain of looking in the eyes of someone you loved and seeing nothing in return but stopped yourself. There was no song or lyric that could explain the piercing ache of such a feeling. With him, with your mother, you knew that so very well.

“The dining hall is serving cheesy Verona stew,” you said.

Dimitri grunted dismissively, turning his face from you. That, of course, was not nearly enough to actually stop you.

“See, I asked, and nobody seemed to know if you’ve eaten in the past few days,” you continued.

He said nothing.

“And I know for a fact that you like cheesy Verona stew.”

Nothing.

“Plus, you won’t be able to fight or anything if you’re starving, so-”

“What, exactly, is it that you want?” Dimitri abruptly snapped, fixing you again with a look you refused to believe was a glare of murderous intent. Despite that firm belief, the expression was threatening enough to push you into taking an unconscious half-step away in physical recoil.

“I was worried-”

“I’m fine,” he insisted in a raised voice. Not shouting, just authoritative. It made your stomach drop anyway. At your reaction, he lowered his voice, shaking his head in a jittery way as his eyes cast downwards, a hand raising so he could press a finger against his temple. The headaches he had once told you of must have reached a new level of agonizing. “As soon as her blood is drained from that treacherous heart, everything will be fine… We’ll be fine... So leave me be.”

Overexposure drained those muttered words of much of the power they used to hold but hearing the man you’d seen nearly break down over death speak so casually of gratuitous violence created its own type of deep-set horror. Not to say that was unexpected. You’d heard him say much worse since he learned of the Flame Emperor’s true identity.

“Okay, I-I’m sorry. The Professor is calling for a council and requests that we all attend. I was thinking that you should eat something beforehand. It might make you feel better, you know?” you explained. “But if you’re not hungry, th-that’s fine. The meeting’s in an hour.”

“I understand,” he snapped, cutting you off.

“We could go together, if you wanted,” you offered.

Dimitri gave you a flat look and for a moment you were sure he was going to shout at you. But he didn’t, which was somehow worse. “I’d rather you leave me alone.”

“You don’t need to be alone. It’s not healthy,” you told him quietly. “Before, you told me that you would talk to someone, that you would… Don’t you remember?”

For a long moment, Dimitri didn’t respond. You had no idea what was going on behind the storm of his eyes, the conflicted dance of anger and pain. “Why must you continue to torture me?” Dimitri finally asked, his voice low and throaty. “None of it meant anything, don’t you understand that? It was not my place to tell you those things. I have but a single purpose, to be distracted was my most grievous error. So leave me be.”

He turned away, once again facing the front of the cathedral.

“Okay,” you agreed, almost inaudible with the way your throat had swollen up. “I’m sorry.” Dimitri’s eyes closed, but he didn’t respond. That might have been for the best. You turned on your heel and left the cathedral, feeling the dozens of eyes track each step, whispering. Always whispering, talking, lying, always, always-

On the bridge, you faced the harsh wintery wind, hoping that the sharp bite of its touch would hide the true reason for your watering eyes and red cheeks. Because you were weak. Because you were in love with a man who was fated for tragedy. Because you knew goodbye forever and there was nothing that you could do about it.

Time ticked on, seconds became minutes, minutes you didn’t have the luxury of wasting. You turned you back to the cathedral and the wind and acknowledged that you had at least done as you were told. Just like a soldier would. Just like a knight.

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 4

Even with war hanging heavy on the horizon, even with your heart heavy and breaking, the mundane chores still had to be done. Until coming to Garreg Mach, you had never so much as thought about doing the dishes. It left your fingers pruning and hands chapped and dry, but the ritual of it felt satisfying. Taking something dirty and making it clean. You and Ingrid stood above the sudsy, steaming basin; your uniform sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

The two of you made some small talk at first, but it was clear to see that she was preoccupied. You’d have loved a distraction from your Dimitri-centered thoughts―and under different circumstances, you might have tried anyway―but there was really nothing to say. Dimitri’s harsh rejection the day prior still burned hot and horrible in your chest. If you thought about it, you’d probably start crying again.

“I feel as if I owe you an apology,” Ingrid finally said as you worked a particularly tough bit of grime from a plate. That brought you up short, looking at the blonde to try and figure out what she was thinking to say that so suddenly.

“An apology?” you repeated after a moment.

“For what Felix said,” Ingrid clarified, her eyes casting down towards the water.

You stiffened at the reminder. Out of everything that had been happening lately, you had almost forgotten about that incident. No, you had willfully been trying to forget about it. “You don’t have to apologize for that,” you told her.

She sighed. “It’s always been up to me to clean up after them. His Highness, Sylvain, and Felix... I tried to talk to him, but he won’t hear it.” Ingrid paused. ��He doesn’t mean it. I doubt that’s any consolation, but-”

“I know,” you said, cutting her off.

The Boar’s bitch. Goddess, that was cruel. But it wasn’t even entirely untrue. That was the worst of it, to have something you held as holy pulled out from your heart and exposed for the appraisal of eyes that would defile its sanctity.

“I don’t know the details of what happened between Felix and Dimitri to make him so angry, but it changed him,” Ingrid said, picking up a tin mug to begin washing. “After Duscur… Well, everything changed. Felix used to adore Dimitri. He followed them everywhere like a lost puppy.”

“Them?”

“Dimitri and… And Glenn.” Pain twisted Ingrid’s voice with the name. “He is… was Felix’s older brother.”

“Dimitri’s mentioned him,” you said. Dimitri talked to him, actually. Glenn was one of the dead, a victim of the Duscur Tragedy. From what you had gathered, Glenn had been the knight ideal. And, if you weren’t mistaken, Ingrid’s betrothed. You tried to imagine the girl you knew being promised to any man, but the image just didn’t compute. It was almost as strange as trying to imagine a younger, softer version of Felix.

“Losing him was hard on all of us,” Ingrid continued. “I can’t say I don’t sympathize with Felix’s pain... but that doesn’t excuse what he said.”

“It’s fine,” you said, focusing especially hard on the plate you were scrubbing.

Ingrid didn’t respond to that, although you could feel her eyes jump up to watch you every so often, her mouth opening before closing again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, she said, “I don’t mean to pry, but you and Dimitri…” Your entire body tensed up, shoulders hunching and the silverware you’d been washing slipping back into the basin with a splash. Of course, you’d been waiting for a question like that. But you hadn’t been ready, either. “I know the two of you were close,” Ingrid said, as if she hadn’t noticed your reaction. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I… Well, I suppose I know what it feels like to have your heart broken. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” you told her stiffly, fishing the fork out of the murky water. There was more to be said, the words piling and pooling up on your tongue and ready to spill out, but before you could speak, the pantry door was flung open, a tiny figure emerging.

"Counting all the way up to numbers I don't even know. And more! Flour and sugar and rice and grain galooore-"

"Annette?" you asked, watching her spin on her toes as she closed the door behind her.

"GAH!" With a graceless turn, Annette whirled around, a hand clasped over her mouth and the notepad she was holding crashing to the floor. Recognition flashed through her wide blue eyes after a moment of horrified shock and she lowered that hand to her chest. “Oh, it’s you!” she exclaimed. “You scared me!”

“Sorry...” you responded, exchanging a glance with the equally bewildered Ingrid.

"Oh, well, it’s fine,” she said, trying to play it off. “You didn't… hear anything, did you?"

You were about to lie, mostly to avoid upsetting her, but Ingrid beat you to it. "You were... singing?”

Annette winced, "I can explain! I was taking inventory for Seteth and got very focused and the song just sort of came to me and… and…" She deflated. "I don't suppose you would pretend that you didn't hear that, would you?"

"Why?" Ingrid asked.

"Because… because…" Annette said, flustered. "Because if everyone finds out that I sing to myself they're all going to think I'm that weird girl who makes up stupid songs about counting and food and then they’ll all whisper about me behind my back about how weird and stupid I am!"

"It's not that weird to sing while you work,” you told her.

"Do you?" Ingrid asked, looking at you curiously.

"Well… not around people…" you answered. Everybody in your class knew about your affinity for music on account of that day Sylvain stole your book of songs, but you didn’t advertise the fact that you enjoyed making music, too. Especially not to the knight ideal like Ingrid. Music was impractical.

"See! It is weird!" Annette exclaimed. "Now you're going to tell everyone, and they'll all think I'm a total freak who sings about flour and sugar and-"

"Annette…" Ingrid cut in, frowning in concern.

Annette continued on like she hadn’t heard, her rant getting progressively more distracted, "And they're gonna look at me and laugh and never take me seriously because of the stupid childish songs and-"

"I didn't know you liked music," you said, interrupting her.

Annette blinked, focusing on you. "I don’t really tell people. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

"If it makes you happy, I don't think it's embarrassing," you told her.

"She's right," Ingrid said seriously. "I don't have any interest in music, but the song wasn't that bad."

"That bad…" Annette said, frowning. "So it was still bad. I knew it. Oh, this is just the worst!"

"It wasn't!" you told her quickly. "I liked the melody; did you compose it?"

"Well, yeah," she said, fidgeting with her notepad.

"That's really amazing, Annette,” you said enthusiastically. “I'm no good at writing music."

"Oh, it's not that impressive," she said, waving her hand.

"I'd love it if you could teach me some time," you said. "It might be a nice break from-" you waved your hand around generally, your voice trailing off.

“Well, if you really want to, I guess I wouldn’t mind,” Annette said. “As long as you promise to never, ever tell anybody what you heard today.”

“I promise,” you vowed.

“As do I,” Ingrid said.

“That’s a relief,” Annette said, finally picking up her dropped notepad. “Are you free tonight?”

“I have patrol duty with Ashe,” you replied, frowning. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure! I’ll have to let you know when, though. There’s so much to do.” Annette sighed. “Speaking of which, what was I doing…?”

“Inventory?” Ingrid offered helpfully.

“Oh, right! That!” Annette responded, her trademark bounce returning. “Well, I’d better go, then. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You and Ingrid said goodbye, but Annette was already out of the kitchen. Seconds later, there was a loud crash right outside the door and Annette’s muffled voice demanded to know why there was a box in the way where people were walking. It left your heart feeling oddly light. Everything else could change, but Annette was still a whirlwind mess of drive, clumsiness, and quirk.

“If you have patrol, you should probably get going,” Ingrid said. “I don’t mind finishing up here.”

“Oh, right,” you said, quickly drying off your hands. “I hate being out in the town these days, it’s so empty and creepy.”

“Do you want to switch?” Ingrid asked, raising an eyebrow. “I have guard duty tomorrow at dawn.”

“As enticing as that sounds, I think I’ll pass,” you told her, your face scrunching up at the very idea of it. It was one thing to be cold and miserable at night but being cold and miserable with the memory of your soft, warm bed fresh in your mind was worse.

“I suppose it was worth a try. Be on your guard,” Ingrid told you. “And be safe.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I’ll try.”

Elegiac Chorale Mortis Honore Opus 7, No. 5

“Ansel’s stories are great!” you insisted, walking side by side with Ashe on your nighttime patrols. With the curfew, there were no other people wandering around, but that wasn’t the only reason for the uncomfortably hollow feeling in Garreg Mach. With each passing day, the small towns that littered the outskirts became ghostly haunts, shops closing up and merchants who sold anything other than weapons and supplies packing up. Outside the realm of his torch, the once lively was a depressing and frightening place. But having company helped. It helped a lot. “I love the characters.”

“I didn’t say they’re bad,” Ashe responded quickly. “But... they’re mostly romance. They shouldn’t be shelved by the stories about knights, someone could accidentally pick one up and have no idea what they’re in for.”

“There are knights and heroes, too,” you pointed out. “Besides, romance is integral to the plots of most hero stories. What’s worth fighting for more than love?”

“You’re starting to sound like Sylvain,” Ashe told you, laughing.

“Don’t you fight for love?” you asked, only slightly defensively. “Love for your country, your family, your friends… Isn’t that why people fight? We’re all driven by passion, don’t you think?”

“Huh… I guess that’s true. But... wait, that wasn’t my point! I-” Ashe’s words abruptly cut off as you turned a corner. This street, a main thoroughfare with some of the few remaining open establishments, was well lit. A crowd of people congregated at the far end. “What’s going on over there?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sight. “Is there some sort of event?” you asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ashe said. “Besides, the curfew...”

“We should go check it out,” you said, all amusement from your conversation going stale and cold. You had a very bad feeling about this.

Ashe quickly put out the torch, following after you as you approached the crowd. There was a sense of dread in the air. There was a crowd, sure, but their voices weren’t loud enough, no laugher could be heard. It was just tension and raw, crackling energy. Most of the people were soldiers, men and women from other battalions. Some villagers. The entire crowd smelled of urine and liquor and the desperate vinegar of excited sweat. You tried to cut your way into the group, standing on your toes to see what they were all circled around. Nobody paid you any mind, too focused on what was happening to make way.

“Is that… His Highness?” Ashe asked, his voice loud above the noise.

And it was. Standing in the impromptu ring created by the surrounding crowd, Dimitri faced off against five other men. One of them was wearing Imperial fatigues. Another wore clothes you recognized as being an unkempt and dirty Faerghus soldier uniform. All of them had a wild, drunken look and anger and bloodlust.

“-known that your association with that Duscur beast would rub off on you,” the Faerghus soldier was saying. “I refuse to follow a monster into battle, let alone lead my country.”

“I see,” Dimitri replied. Despite the many voices rumbling around the square, his was easy to make out. “You have betrayed your country, trading one monster for another. How does that feel?”

That made the other man wince, but his fury was far more potent. They were ganging up on him, this was an ambush.

“Ashe go get help. Professor Byleth… Guards… anyone! Hurry!” you told him, your voice quivering with urgency. He blinked, his eyes wide and frightened, but nodded.

“I’ll be quick.”

With Ashe running off, you tried to steady yourself with a deep breath, forcing your hands to stop shaking. “Let me through!” you demanded, trying once more to cut your way through the crowd. People shifted, although you took more than one elbow to the ribs, bodies pushing back against you. “On behalf of the Church of Seiros, I demand that you let me through!” That finally worked. Sort of. You broke out into the front of the group, a hand on your sword hilt. “This i-is… an illegal act of violence against the crown prince of Faerghus… Disperse now!” Jumbled and nervous, your words were still able to get the attention of the group of men. Dimitri turned, meeting your eyes for a half-second with a look of surprise. And then his face darkened, his jaw clenching as he looked away.

“What is this?” the Imperial asked mockingly, “Another student? Maybe a friend of yours, crown prince?”

Dimitri said nothing, not even looking at you.

“The guards will be arriving soon!” you threatened.

“Faerghus law allows any Faerghus soldier challenge his superior, nobility and royalty, to a fight,” the soldier said. “It’s up to him if he wishes to accept the terms.”

“What do you say, beast prince?” the Imperial asked. “Do you have any honor left, or have you abandoned that with your humanity?”

“Honor?” Dimitri asked, sounding amused. “Coming from one who wears the colors of the Empire? Tell me, do you act on behalf of that woman?”

“I act for myself,” he responded. “And for justice. My brother was one of the men you slaughtered in the Holy Tomb. I saw his body, creature. You’re no prince, you’re not even a soldier. You’re a monster.”

“And your gang of traitorous vermin?” Dimitri asked. “They agree?”

“Faerghus is better off without you,” the Faerghus soldier said, eliciting sounds of agreement from the others.

“Fine,” Dimitri said. “I accept your challenge.”

“No!” you shouted, lunging forward. Or, attempting to. A man you hadn’t even noticed shot an arm out to keep you from entering the informal circle, pulling you back.

“Don’t interfere,” he said, holding your arms pinned so you couldn’t go for your weapon. His breath was hot and sour on your ear, making you shudder in disgust. “I have money on this fight, girl. Five to one… the pretty boy’s ‘bout to learn a lesson he won’t forget.”

“Dimitri, stop!” you begged. It didn’t even occur to you to be worried for him. Only about what he would do.

The Faerghus soldier went for him first, pulling a knife from his stained coat and lunging at Dimitri with wavering, drunken posture. He was a large guy, the type that expected to win fights based purely on his size and raw strength. Dimitri sidestepped the attack, grabbing the man’s beefy arm as he did to misdirect his momentum and contort the arm behind his back, twisting him around and sending him staggering to the ground.

Dimitri had gotten hold of the knife during the exchange, but he didn’t bother using it. When the large man made to grab Dimitri’s legs, Dimitri kicked him in the chest. Bones crunched. Loudly. Dimitri kicked him again, the choppy strands of his blond hair flipping and falling with the motion.

Despite the shocking display of efficient brutality, the Imperial went into attack. His knuckles glinted with metal as he drew back his fist.

“Watch out!” you called, but the warning was unnecessary. Dimitri whirled around, grabbing the Imperial’s hand before it could make contact and slamming it flat against the side of the building. He drove the knife right below the band of metal ringing the Imperials fingers, pushing it into the grout between brick until the handle was flush to the man’s skin. The Imperial screamed, immediately trying to pull the knife free, but it was stuck. He tried to lash out at Dimitri, but the prince easily ducked beneath the attack.

The other three men bunched in a group, ganging up on Dimitri together. The tallest stood in the center, a short man on his right and a heavy looking guy who’d picked up a broom as a makeshift weapon on his left. All you could see of Dimitri the back of his uniform and the fluttering cape on his shoulder, so brilliant and vividly blue.

Ducking out of the way of the broom’s handle, Dimitri took a fist to the face from the shortest man. Despite the successful blow, the short man was immediately rewarded with a brutal backhand that sent him to the ground with a fleshy kind of crack.

Dimitri didn’t hesitate, throwing his body at the man holding the broom. The wooden handle split into two pieces beneath Dimitri’s gauntleted left hand, his right elbow slamming against the heavy guy’s face while he was distracted by the loss of his weapon. The heavy man’s face immediately exploded in a bright spray of blood, sending him stumbling back and tripping onto the ground, clutching his face desperately.

The tall one tried to attack with a straight right, but Dimitri spun out of the way, swinging the broken piece of broomstick handle in an arc at his head. The wood broke on impact with the guy’s skull. While he was stunned, Dimitri’s fist easily connected with his stomach. He dropped with a heavy “umph” of a groan.

Breathing heavily, Dimitri turned from them, dropping the short length of broomstick handle with a clatter of wood on stone and tossing his sweaty hair from his brow. Blood dripped from his nose, staining the ashy pale of his complexion, dribbling over his chapped lips.

The Imperial was the only one standing, having managed to free himself. You hadn’t seen what he’d done to get out of the trap, but the knife remained in the wall and his hand was in a ruined state, too covered in blood for you to see.

Dimitri faced him, his chest heaving and a gruesome smile on his face. Blood dripped into his mouth, staining his teeth red. With wild eyes, he surveyed his final opponent.

Had Dimitri done this on purpose? Ensured that the Imperial would be the last to face him so he could savor it? Something about the expression on his face made you think that sickening thought. Taking advantage of the way the grip keeping you still had slackened in horror, you stumbled forward.

“Dimitri stop!” you shouted.

He ignored you, moving towards the last man with the predatory gait of a killer. You didn’t even think about it, lunging at him and wrapping your arms around his middle. Doing that could have killed you, you knew that. His reflexes were faster than you could ever hope to move. But your blood pounded steadily in your ears and your pulse made your throat feel swollen and men you hoped weren’t dead littered the ground. You needed to make him stop.

Somehow, it worked.

“Unhand me,” Dimitri demanded, prying you off of him despite your attempts to hold fast. The violence of it pushed you back several steps, but you managed not to fall. “This Imperial traitor asked for a fair fight. Have I not granted him his wish?”

“You’ve won!” You looked at the glowering Imperial who was wrapping his hand with a ripped piece of shirt. “Yield, please. You can’t fight, your men are down… Please, stop this.”

“No,” he said, pulling the fabric tight with a wince. With that, he swung, his arm arcing clumsily towards Dimitri who easily caught the fist, twisting it with enough force to make the main shout in pain. The movement forced the Imperial to fall forward, but Dimitri caught him with a grip on the front of his uniform, pulling him close.

“Dimitri,” you pled. “You can’t kill him. Please.”

“No? Even though he follows that wretched woman?” Dimitri asked. “Even when he would have gleefully killed me in an honorless fight?”

“Please, just yield and leave. Please,” you begged of the other man. “Dimitri, you’d let him go if he yielded, right?

“This foul creature does not deserve your pity,” he said.

“Please?” you begged again.

“Fine,” Dimitri allowed, his lip curled as he looked at the man. “I’ll let you go free. Provided you deliver a message to your master.”

The Imperial sneered, answering by screwing up his mouth for a second and then spitting. The glob of saliva landed squarely on Dimitri’s cheek. Dimitri accepted it with a cold, empty patience, letting it slide down his face without any reaction. “I’ll accept death before I do something for a beast like you,” the Imperial said.

“Very well, I shall be glad to deliver,” Dimitri responded. “You and your gang of cowards are not the first men I have sent to the Eternal Flames. But you already know that, don’t you? Your face is not even worth remembering. Just as I have forgotten your brother, you too will die a meaningless death.”

A strangled sound of rage left the Imperial’s mouth, his face twisting in genuine hatred as he fought the hold Dimitri had on his uniform. Blood had already soaked through the makeshift bandage on his hand. And Dimitri was going to kill him. That sickening smile was gone, all emotion sapped out. His expression was cold and cruel. The act of killing made him dark. Empty.

“Dimitri!” a familiar voice called, breaking the tense scene apart. The crowd, whatever remained of it, parted for Professor Byleth’s confident stride, his green eyes focused solely on the prince. Ashe hurried behind him; his cheeks colored with a flush of exertion. Dimitri’s grip on the Imperial slackened, some awareness seeping into his eyes. Finally, he wiped the spit from his cheek, catching some of the blood from his nose. It left a rusty streak on his pale skin.

The Imperial took advantage of Dimitri’s distraction. His nails made contact with Dimitri’s face for a second before the prince reacted, throwing him away with unnerving ease. What was left was four distinct and angry short trails of red high on Dimitri’s cheekbone.

“It seems you’ve been spared,” Dimitri called as the man scrambled to get upright. But he had landed poorly, swaying dizzily like he hit his head. “This time.”

“What happened?” Professor Byleth asked you, forcing your attention away from the horrific scene. You cleared your throat, trying to calm your mind.

“They challenged him to a fight,” you said. Byleth’s lips formed a line, but he nodded. “And he accepted.”

“These men were Imperial vermin and traitors,” Dimitri added. “They wished for a chance to take me out and failed.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Vengeance… Vengeance is for the strong. They were too weak to attain it.”

“You didn’t need to accept their challenge,” you told him, belatedly realizing that you were crying. Shaking, too. Trembling so hard you felt it in your bones. “You’re… you’re better than that.”

“Am I?” Dimitri asked. “Tell me, would it be honorable to keep another man from his revenge? I allowed him a fair chance, and he was unable to follow through.”

“Still…” you muttered, looking around at the carnage. Already, guards were surveying the downed men. Checking for pulses. Killing men in battle was one thing but killing them here in the dark and dingy streets of a nearly abandoned town. A place that was supposed to be a refuge, to be sacred. It was like you couldn’t breathe, like the world was closing in on you.

This wasn’t Dimitri, was it? The man who had kissed you, who had held you, who had made you laugh. The man you were in love with.

“If you can’t stomach reality, you have no place here,” Dimitri said, stalking past you. Professor Byleth attempted to stop him, but that didn’t matter. Dimitri was a force of nature, like a storm or a fire, without reason or restraint.

Besides, the guards for calling for Professor Byleth’s help, likely asking for advice on how to handle this situation. How were you supposed to handle this situation? What were you supposed to do?

“Are you all right?” Ashe asked, peering at you with a look of concern. “Let’s go back to the monastery, the guards can take care of this.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Your ears were ringing. It sounded like screaming. It smelled like blood and fire and the tangy, sour, stale sweat that reeked of pain and fear. Was this any more or less horrific than what you had already seen? You already knew the violence Dimitri was capable of, you already knew the depths to which he had descended.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look really pale…” Ashe said.

You felt a little numb. Empty, cold, like everything had been drained out and replaced with cotton.

“Ashe?” you asked, but your voice sounded far away.

“Yes?” He looked so concerned, so earnestly worried for you. That was good, nice. You could hold on to that.

“What do you think it is to be honorable?”

Ashe blinked, clearly confused, but his answer was quick. “Honor is doing what’s right.”

“Who defines what’s right?” you asked.

“I’m not so sure this is important right now,” Ashe said, looking around. You ignored it all, the noise and the people and the carnage and the fear and the disgust, focused only on the one question. “Perhaps we should wait until we’re-”

“Please?” you asked. That word was etched into your tongue.

He looked like he was about to argue but relented after a moment. “I suppose the goddess defines what’s right, so do those who lead us,” Ashe said. “But knights also must follow their hearts. To follow all of those things… that’s honorable.”

You closed your eyes, trying to comprehend exactly what he said. That definition definitely made sense. Honor both was and wasn’t. Nebulous and strict. If you doubted what you knew, you’d lose it entirely. It was better to let it be, you decided that long ago.

Letting out a shaky breath, you nodded. “You’re right.”

“Are you okay?” Ashe asked again.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. You just had to ignore this, shove it from your mind. Focus on other things. “Let’s go back to the monastery.”

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fe dimitri #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd x reader #fe dimitri x reader #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #beastie and the bard #my writing #i say its dimitri z reader but really it's more of an ensamble piece #like who even knows anymore #mercedes is a better bf at this point #wowzers i put the wrong chapter number how embarrassing

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