#i think my ptsd has been acting up in the background or something

[carbonateddelusion]

sits here. my mood has been swinging back and forth like a pendulum lately

[confused-wanderer]

After several posts and headcanons and theories, I have come to a conclusion: Dick and Jason have a more or less similar relationship to Steve and Bucky. Think about it.

The “Golden boy” and “sweetheart” who is constantly praised and looked upto, yet only the other one truly knows how feral the other is cuz they knew them long before shit hit the fan and they KNOW that chaotic gremlin hasn’t gone- it’s just been better at not getting caught.

IMAGINE:

Jason coming back from the dead just to hear everyone talking about Dick as if he’s a God, and stopping himself from dragging his brother down there cuz only ONE of them has put people in hospitals, left every criminal with PTSD and Jason aint it. Sure, he’s making up for it but Dicks got a fucking head start.

Jason being the only one who can see right thru Dicks bullshit and is full aware of chaotic-feral-no-self-preservation-don’t-believe-me-then-WATCH Dick fucking Grayson. It’s why during operations he loves pairing up with Dick cuz the guy has sheer unconventionality and Jason is HERE for it.

Some new hero: Oh my god Nightwing’s so calm and always knows what he’s doing!

Jason *flashbacks to last night when Dick tried to cook pasta and ended up blasting his bathtub and frantically calling Jason over while the pasta kept exploding in the background and he didn’t want to piss off Alfred*

Justice league: Nightwing always knows the right things to do, and knows how to act in every situation.

Jason *thanking god his mask was on so no one could see him dying cuz before he died Dick had literally stolen the Batmobile and allowed Jason to joyride; was also the same person who taught Jason how to hit clean cuts and decimate any opponent by any, and I mean ANY means necessary*

New teen titans: Gah Nightwing is so professional!!

Jason *remembers when Dick yelled “want some GROUND for your coffee DIRTBAG?!” Before throwing sand in their faces and absolutely demolishing them by fighting dirtier than Jason had seen anyone*

And Dicks grateful cuz Jason’s the person all his guard crumbles in front of. One who knows what he’s thinking, knows the real him. Someone he doesn’t have to pretend in front of, and would help him no matter what happens, even if he gets a earful later.

Jason’s the mother hen, and Dicks the idiot who would throw himself in danger every chance he gets.

It’s also why all the OG teen titans and Jason both meet up for tea just to talk about Dicks shit and silently agree to form an alliance. It’s their bonding point and now they hang out a lot too.

Dick has a feeling something’s going on, but he’s too afraid to ask.

[someshakespearequote]

Random speculation about Taash and Qunari in general: (no real spoilers, but I talk about Tevinter Nights and some of what we've seen in general previews)

In DAO, Sten was our first look at the Qunari, a simple but deep believer. This was like if you dropped a blue-collar soldier into another country. They'd be giving you the basics of their country's belief system.

In DA2, the Qunari were more alien and antagonistic, and we got to dive into the mind of the Arishok in some places, really seeing how his thought process worked. A commander who has had more time to philosophize but is still a soldier, a different view.

In DAI, we get Bull, who gives us our most sympathetic look at someone grappling with whether to leave the Qun. He's a former soldier broken by his experiences (Trick Weekes compared Seheron to Afghanistan and said that while they didn't give Bull full PTSD (to avoid stepping on the toes of Cullen's arc, I think), Bull does talk in some places about hyperawareness and always knowing where the exits of a building are.) He's cynical and seems to feel that people are just people, and the Qunari philosophy is just rules to make people not kill each other, like the Chantry is supposed to do for humans.

Some people have complained about that, and I'm honestly on the fence. Do I want the Qunari to be more alien and unique, with a really different philosophy, or do I want them to be "just people"? I can see both sides. It reminds me of the arguments that have been circulating about the revised edition of D&D 5e. In the original 5e, you had ability score bonuses locked to certain races, and you had strongly worded suggestions about how to play those races. Yuan-Ti should always be evil. Half-Orcs should probably be evil but at least be chaotic and hot-tempered. In the expansion books to 5e, the devs seemed to listen to feedback and untethered ability scores from race, and in the revised edition, race (now "species") doesn't affect ability scores at all (it's tied to backgrounds, which are like jobs), and the rules make it clear that there's room for a genius scholar half-orc or a softhearted Yuan-Ti. You might have a nation of evil Yuan-Ti, but that stuff wasn't genetic. D&D heard what its players wanted, which was less "Your personality is innately tied to your species," and modified the rules accordingly.

And this feels like Dragon Age doing the same thing. Bull is humanizing the Qunari. Do they still have all the fancy Qunari stuff? Yes, in the same way that humanity in Dragon Age has the Chantry and elves have the elven gods and their stories. But the Qunari who act like Sten or the Arishok did are now over on one side as true believers/hard-liners.

So what are we getting in Veilguard from Taash?

Given that the events of the Tevinter Nights novels set up the Qunari Antaam as breaking away from the Qun and invading the south, it seems likely we'll be fighting them in some places. So these are our hard-liners, although they've broken away from the Qun, so if anything, they're the equivalent of evangelical "Christians" who talk about God's Army destroying the heretics and really just mean "fellow white people" when they say "Christian" -- the Antaam aren't following the Qun anymore. They're just using it as a handy guide to identify members of the in-group. They're Sten or the Arishok with all the tribalism and none of the philosophy (or at least, they are in Tevinter Nights, to the point where one of them gets killed by a Ben-Hassrath for giving Qunari a bad name).

My initial theory was that Taash was going to be the flip side of the Antaam -- the philosophy without the tribalism. It doesn't look like Taash is a formal follower of the Qun, though, which made this initially tough to believe.

She (they? we'll know in a week and a bit!) does have a Qunari name, though, likely something related to "dragon" or "glory", since it looks likely that the name Taash relates to Ataash (glory) or Ataashi (dragon). Taash also wears the arm-ropes, so either those ropes are just terribly comfortable, or Taash still keeps some elements of Qunari tradition. It feels like we can assume this isn't a complete "human with horns", culturally (a vashoth, to use the formal term), like Inquisitor Adaar if you made a Qunari Inquisitor in DAI.

My best guess at trying to figure out the little contradictions from what we've seen so far is that Taash is a first- or second-generation immigrant -- someone who left the Qun young or was raised by someone who left the Qun before Taash was born. (That also fits with Rivain, which had a peaceful, even friendly, relationship with the Qunari, at least before the Antaam broke off and attacked.) If Taash's story is an immigrant story, then that lets us look at the Qun in a new way -- someone who left (or was born having already left) the Qun formally, but who (unlike Bull) still keeps many of the cultural traditions while living in a new country.

Maybe Taash begrudgingly keeps a few of the Qunari traditions taught by family, but doesn't don't think much of them?

Maybe Taash was raised with no Qunari traditions but has grown more interested in exploring Qunari heritage as an adult (while not being willing to actually join the Qun)?

Whatever it is, and I'm confident that it's going to be something in that neighborhood, I hope it gives us a new way to look at the Qun and make Thedas a little more complex. (And also that however it does that works with a fun cool character exploration of Taash!)

Or possibly I have just smashed my keyboard a whole bunch while making no sense whatsoever, which wouldn't be the first time I had thoughts that made sense in my head but not here.

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Until it finds my dreams have disappeared

I've been debating about whether or not to post this for a while. Mostly because I use my tumblr to post dumb stuff or act as a distraction from stress. I'm getting kind of tired with people though. This isn't something exclusive to the Metal Gear franchise (far from it) but it's something I've noticed happening quite frequently. Metal Gear has many characters with horrible backgrounds that suffer from PTSD/CPTSD and many mental health issues. I can't help but notice that there's a trend in the younger crowd (isn't mgs exclusive) that whenever there's a heavily traumatized character (I've only seen it happen with male characters but I assume the opposite does happen) that they considere attractive, they will simp for them and post things unironically.

It's like they see someone who they think is attractive and start actually going "NO I CAN FIX THEM! THEY'RE JUST SAD LITTLE MEOW MEOWS". Like it's fine to make jokes but when you see posts that resemble those weird celebrity fan pages bordering on obsession I think it's time to take a step back. I get some people identify with characters which is fine but they'll completely ignore said characters actions and be like "sure they killed all those people but I'd totally let them cut me up if I had the chance to smash" when the person in question isn't even real. Or there will be a character that's traumatized so badly that they think that if you just cuddle a person like that and baby them then you can fix them. I guess I'm mostly just mad because I feel like usually these are young kids who still have a chance for a good life but they're very ignorant about how people affected by trauma can be.

It's not some cute, quirky thing. It changes your whole world and your beliefs, especially when it starts in childhood. You can technically put this for any character that meets the criteria but personally for me I would have to choose Monsoon from Metal Gear Rising. He grew up with no choice but to kill to survive and witnessed the Cambodian genocide along with working for the mafia and nearly dying from that. I don't really care if someone has a crush on a fictional character, personally that's none of my business. What I'm tired of is seeing frequent posts that range from "uwu my soft cinnamon roll baby" to all the graphic smut on here depicting tortue.

I can't speak for everyone but personally I find it demeaning when being coddled by others. Yes, I went through things but please don't treat me like a child. It feels insulting. I also have no problems with BDSM but I can only take seeing so many posts that basically allude to someone drawing a character about to be raped for their own personal enjoyment. It's especially bad when people make stuff of that for characters who have already been held hostage or enslaved (I'm looking at Vergil x Mundus shippers specifically).

Trauma is not something that you can help someone overcome. It consumes them and becomes your entire world regardless of how it came to be. In fact trauma is often passed down through genes. Though you may not have someone else's memories you will have the same reactions to traumatic situations that those before you did or your body will adapt to that kind of environment. Hypervigilance can be passed down through epigenic changes in DNA.

This is where things get personal for me. Though I've never met them, I know I come down from genocide survivors. I'm either third or fourth generation. I'm not exactly sure what they saw but from what I've read it was common to see various forms of torture. One method was to stick babies in the sand and then trample over their heads with horses... Based on the family I could find and knowing their location, they must have survived the death marches and I'm unsure if they were at the final killing fields or not. That's not even mentioning everything they had being taken away from them and seeing everyone they knew suffer horrible fates. To this day bone fragments will still rise from the ground, the bodies of the dead never having been put properly to rest.

I'm unable to travel there but if I could, I couldn't help but feel like I'm being swallowed by death. Why am I here but so many perished. Then on to my father. I don't know much about him and he passed away when I was a child. All I really know about his background was that he came from a wealthy family. It was common for his friends families to have guards outside their children's bedroom doors. We lived in a western country where it was "safe" (he wasnt originally from where I Iive) but I remember he wouldn't sleep at night and would seem like he was looking for something during the day. Sometimes he just stared like he was waiting for something to happen but nothing ever came. I don't want to say that he was an intentionally cruel person, just that I don't think he had the capabilities to act like a normal human being. I was raised with a mindset of being better than others. That is to say that I wasn't supposed to have weakness. It makes sense looking back. He survived having his body messed up and I was told he survived assisnation attemps (corruption is huge down there so it's not like police could do anything). Nothing was said after so I assumed he killed whoever was after him before they could kill him. Pretty much a kill or be killed mindset.

Growing up I realized he was hard on us not to hurt us but because he thought it would make things easier for us in the future. I know it must have been even worse for him if he thought that this was being kind. Anyway he passed away when I was a child and long story short but for whatever reason my family couldn't get in contact with us so I never received my inheritance but that's for the best. I don't know how well I would have handled it at nine if I knew there was a possibility of being kidnapped or killed for the money or because someone had a grudge against my father.

I guess I always knew I was different but his death really solidified that. I was used to having to be tougher but it seems like my older sister and mother couldn't handle it. They already cried one time when we couldn't see him (which was often) and once the news broke I just remember everyone sobbing and screaming in agony. I didn't feel anything though. I realize now that it was dissociation but no tears would fall and I understood what was happening but it felt like I couldn't emotionally process it. At some point I have no memories up until a certain point. Whenever I have some sort of traumatic situation happen I suffer from dissociative amnesia. I'm not sure for how long, I just know that there are large gaps in my memory.

Right before my memories vanished I can remember not wanting to exist anymore. The day after I was surrounded by all the sobbing and knew that I couldn't let myself die. If I did I would just be trying to escape from my pain and would place it on my family. So for the last two decades I haven't really had a dream or anything to look forward to. I've just had a goal of trying not to die. There are many more traumatic things that followed which I won't get into but I dislike telling people my life story since they just give me looks of pity or seem like they want to ask how I haven't killed myself yet.

Unfortunately the kill or be killed mindset has been passed on. While I've never harmed anyone, I have recovered memories involving someone I trusted keeping me against my will and unspeakable things happening many times. I've had frequent nightmares since then and didn't know that my situation wasn't normal. By the time I was a teenager I found out that I didnt have to live my life in fear and allow abuse to keep happening. I've decided since then that I'll do whatever I can should I be faced with a similar situation in the future. I can only fight back to stop such a thing from happening again. It will most likely never occur again but it still affects my life everyday. I can't go out in public without someone I trust and even then I still scan the whole area and look for an escape route. I shouldn't have to feel like everyone around me is a possible threat to my safety and freedom.

I don't think people realize just how calming the rain can actually be. Not just the light stuff but heavy rain. It acts as a soothing white noise that drowns out your thoughts and feeling it hit your body also distracts you. I won't say when since it could reveal my location but within the last few years I was outside during a very bad storm that had frequent wet microbursts. It destroyed all the trees in the area and I almost died but I felt oddly calm. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. There was so much wind and rain that it resembled blowing snow and there was so much water hitting the ground that it would form waves that would zoom so fast and then crash only to repeat the process over and over.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm annoyed by all the sexualization of people with mental health issues. With the way some people act towards characters that don't exist, it worries me how they could treat real people going through similar situations. And on the other hand please see trauma survivors as real people. Many of us had to survive on our own and you thinking someone being terrified is just a shy/cute trait that makes them adorable is infuriating. I can't tell you how much I hate the latter. I'm so sick of people thinking that I need someone to spoil me with affection and protect me to the point where I feel like I'm being treated as a baby. It just makes me feel more weak and pathetic.

[thesoleilla]

okay this is a long and specific request (sry just a random thought)

Dazai X Reader (with teleportation ability)

background story

Y/N (16 at the time) was a half time worker at the ada but was very often at the PM (btw she didnt tell that they worked in the ada) because she was Chuuyas younger sibling (only by one year) and looked at Koyo like a older sister. she was the one that trained Gins assation skills. She was also kinda close to Dazai, and was bestfriends with Yosano. But since she was 16 she had to go somewhere to study, so she decided to study somewhere in Europe to study coding or something and got in. But while she was there she needed a job so she went around and looked for a job and she found a good paying job but ofc it was a trap that was setup by Nikolai cuz he just wanted to. But somehow she was able to become Nikolai`s student and Sigmas bestfriend. She did finish studying and all that before becoming a DOA member. Years later (21 years old now) went back to Yokoami because Fyvodor was able to get arested. She finally got to catch up with everyone both from the pm and ada (but left out that she joined the DOA) Even though she was with everyone she was alot with Dazai, so Yosano and some other ADA memebers gets curios over this and the do some thing random you decide.

the plot and the request

the reader wants to quit the DOA but feels bad about it beacause she has been with them for a long time so its hard for her (but ends up leavinf before the end)

Dazai x reader

pls no NSFW or smut

chuuya finds out about dazai and reader

looks : 155 cm, Ginger with a white streak of hair, no specific e/c, loves baggy clothes but dosent wear all the time

personality : kinda like Oda but a bit more expressive and lower chanse to get angry than Chuuya but close, loves Cheese chocolate and cats. Dislikes killing for fun, rats (fyvodor PTSD) and creepy people (cough* cough* Mori cough* cough*)

the rest is up to you

its ok if you dont want to do this :) hope you have a wonderful day/night

Dazai x F!reader: falling between stools

A/N:Thanks for the request lovely anon! Sorry for how long it has been sitting in my askbox lol- but now that my break is ended I finally wrote it! I hope you'll like it anyways!

Masterlist

You felt like you were constantly falling between two stools - No, three stools now. You knew this couldn't last. You had to make a choice. But your friends were as scattered around the board of enemy organizations as could be! You couldn't bare leaving even one of them... yet you had to make the choice. The weight of that burning pile of lies wasn't bareable anymore.

You had to leave at least one. Of course, you were going to keep some kind of connection with the PM due to being Chuuya's little sister; but you could manage having connections from the PM all while being in another organization; so the only question would be which?

Which friends were more precious? Those from the ADA or from the DOA? You couldn't just rank them like that! It was ...inhumane! Yet... it was the logical solution. And it's not like being inhumane was a new thing for you, sadly. You had been in the Agency for the longest time. It was time to send your farewells to the DOA.

And there you were, thinking about all of that in the ADA's office. Thankfully, everyone had gone home long ago so no one could witness the mess your face was making as you kept debating with yourself on who to betray. Yet, it was better not to take that risk so you headed home-

"Boo!" There he was. Of course Dazai had to be standing just next to the door, in front of a window from where you were pretty sure he could've seen everything.

"Uhm... good evening?" You awkwardly laughed, hoping he wouldn't question what he, let's be honest, probably witnessed.

"Why are you still here? I thought such a lovely lady would be home by now, bella!" Dazai playfully said, but you knew he had noticed everything. He knew what was up. Yet, he acted like he genuinely had no idea. What was he doing?

"Let me return the question. Why are you standing in front of the agency this late?" You tried to play it cool. I'm not gonna say it worked, I'm trying to do my job as a reliable narrator here, I don't wanna get fired...

"Avoiding the question I see..."

"NO! I just fell asleep working! Not that you'd be able to relate to that." You were trying sooo hard to make his mind wander off somewhere else. Not that it worked though Will I get fired if I'm too mean or too dishonest? This job is so hard I'm quitting goodbye I don't wanna be a narrator anymore I'm traumatized the author is torturing me I'm stuck in their attic please help

"How dare you try and mock me! I thought we were close! How could you!" He dramatically gasped and acted, but you knew it was nothing serious, and this banter made you cheer up a bit.

"But seriously, what were you up to? Let me guess, did you find yourself in yet another enemy organization while you were away?"

Right on point. As always. But afterall, he was the only one who already knew about both your ties to the PM and to the ADA, due to his own ties, so...he'd understand your situation more than anyone.

"Your guesses are too close to reality sometimes. Scary. I like it." You laughed as you said this, trying to keep a straight face. God this was supposed to be a serious moment! Author don't bring out the chainsaw please I swear it's not my fault!I'm a good narrator! Yet... you couldn't help but feel good in his presence, changing your normal behaviours... you weren't supposed to laugh at times like this! And this is going to get me killed ahhhhh

"Anyways, I wouldn't let a lady go home alone this late!" He said, as he confidently took your hand in order to lead you out of the Agency's building. And lead you out he did as he was running through that building.

You felt warmth spread all around your cheeks as he did that, your brain soon overwhelmed from the heat rushing so close to it. "Don't pass out Y/N, Do NOT pass out", you kept on repeating to yourself.

"Would you mind letting me accept your proposition before making me run through the halls?" You managed to let out between your needed gasps for air. Fresh air... how nice it must be to have that...can't relate this basement doesn't really have fresh air

"And would you mind being honest with us? Or at least with me?

Uh oh. Honesty certainly wasnt your forte, especially considering you were a port mafia executive's little sister, yet most of your coworkers were unaware of it. But...Dazai knew almost all of these secrets already. Would it hurt if he knew just one more?

And so... you told him. Everything , from all the organizations, to the atrocities they made you witness. As you were both walking towards who knew were, you shared everything, something which you had never been able to do.

You knew that realistically, this wasn't safe, not in the slightest. Yet... yet it felt safe, talking about it with him, right here, right now.

And...he wasn't even answering. But the strangest thing was that it didn't bother you in the slightest. It felt as if you were just writing in your diary... except it wouldn't leave any trace. Which you were quite scared of, considering your past in ennemy organization.

Except of course...Dazai's memory. You thought this would scar him forever, but considering who he was... he had probably seen way worse. Which only made you feel even more comfortable in his presence.

Progressively, the buildings you were passing by got more and more familiar. But you were so focused on your talking, that you let him lead the way to wherever you were going.

Until...you finally noticed it...he was leading you... to yours and Chuuya's meeting point! At which you were supposed to see him 20 minutes ago. Oh your brother was going to be pissed by how late you were... especially when he'll see who brought you here. Maybe you'll start to understand what my life's like as a poor narrator;;

"Y/N! You're twenty whole fucking minutes late! What the fuck were you doing?"Chuuya yelled at you from across the street right when he heard your voice. That was until he saw you... And the man you were with.

"And...What the heck is this mackerel doing here with you?!" Dazai was grinning ear to ear when you finally noticed what his plans were. Which really wasn't a pleasant realization.

"Well Chibi, I'll have you know that if it weren't for me, your poor defenseless little sister would have went home alone, in this dark of a night! She could have gotten kidnapped!" He put his hand on his heart, taking a dramatic tone, which your brother certainly didn't like.

"You know she could have just...teleported away, right?" Chuuya laughed, pointing at Dazai jokingly.

"But if she did that, could I have done this?" Dazai grinned as he suddenly kissed you, making Chuuya run across the street to throw his fist at him.

Well this was going to be one hell of an explaination to make, and you weren't looking forward to it

A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm so sorry this is almost a whole year late, but I'm finally doing my damn requests now! Sorry for the wait!

[shes-an-oddbird]

911 Lone Star Tag Game: Beginnings

(1) Which 911 Lone Star season premiere is your favorite?

Probably the season three premiere but I really liked the season two one as well. Tommy being introduced and having to get used to being back in the field. That little bit of hesitation and the discomfort with leaving the twins when she feels like they need her.

I’ve already said this but the season three premiere was just really good. A good balance of the stories, updating us on what happened over the time skip, where everyone is and reconnecting everyone throughout the episode.

(2) Which character do you think had the best introduction or first scene in the show?

I’m going to say Judd had the best introduction over the course of the 1st episode. We learn so much about him so quickly and I think the writers did a great job with it. He loses his entire house in one shot. We learn about his relationship with Grace. They give him this major conflict with Owen right off the bat and you think its going to be drawn out through the entire show but really by the end of the episode they realize they’re just not communicating well because Judd is suffering from PTSD and Owen’s dealing with his own issues but they both want to honor the old 126 and build something new.

(3) What is your favorite moment of 1x01?

My very favorite part is the interviews. They’re so much fun. It is such a quick and easy way to dump a lot of information about the characters in a short span of time and it worked well because they’re interesting characters and it sets up so much potential and if I’m being honest, a little disappointment.

First of all, Paul actually tackled a guy with a gun. I know the takeaway is supposed to be that he was able to pick the guy out in the crowd but he just, no fear, punched a guy with a gun (definitely explains why he and Marjan bonded so quickly).

Marjan doesn’t showcase enough insubordination considering it was half her interview. She says she’s allergic to poor leadership, so the takeaway is obviously that she has some respect for Owen. We do see a lot of reckless Marjan outside of work but as often as Owen acts up, I feel like we should have seen more of this side of her on calls. Also, Marjan just jumping off the pier/bridge to save someone is fantastic. Way to become the coolest character in like less than 10 seconds.

Finally, one thing I will never let go of is the fact that Mateo broke several academy records in field work. Like they brushed that off way too quickly. Even Mateo himself isn’t impressed by this fact because he can’t past the written tests. Assuming those records were in timed skills assessments like the training we see Owen and Paul go through in later episodes, why are we not actually seeing it used in the field? Maybe they could explain it away when he was a probie but he is a full-fledged firefighter now so no excuses.

Anyways the interviews were great. And TK during each interview reading over the resumes and smiling in the background. You just know he’s thinking, “I’m going to befriend you, I’m going to befriend you so much!”

(4) When did you first start watching Lone Star and how did you find out about it?

I think I started watching it somewhat inconsistently when it would come on after OG 911. It was definitely during season 2. I remember getting pulled into a few episodes and I think I finally I sat down and binge watched it in between season two and three. That’s when I got hooked. I really loved OG 911 and didn’t expect to get so much more attached to the lone star characters but I did and they’ve been living rent free in my head ever since.

(5) What is one wish you have for the season 5 premiere?

I know this is very specific but I have a very clear moment in my mind where Paul and Marjan ask TK, Nancy and Mateo who they think would make a better lieutenant and Nancy just refuses to answer because she’s a paramedic and is not qualified to say. TK attempts to get out of answering the same way and while they argue with him that he was a firefighter and could answer, Mateo just bolts and spends the rest of the episode hiding from them because he refuses to choose between them.

(Evenly distributed screentime would also be high on my wish list. I hate when an entire episode goes by and a character or worse, multiple characters only have one or two lines. I know it’s a big cast but please please please I know it can be done.)

thank you for tagging me @lonestar-s5countdown

[werdlewrites]

Season of the Witch: Allumage

Chapter Thirty-five: We're Not Alone Here Season Finale!

masterlist-about-ao3-twitter @ djomamma

It's all come down to this! I'm truly grateful for literally any attention this story has received. I've worked hard on it, and while I may never be the best writer, I do deeply enjoy creating new worlds or thinking about the "what if's." Please feel free to follow my Twitter for bullshit, and writing updates (I may also post them here)

Season 2 is already in the works, and I've been contemplating some ideas for other stories. Thank you to @fictionfantom @katiemcrae and @starsforviolet for always being so kind.

summary: A cell filled with shame and guilt holds him hostage, replaying constant reminders of only just this morning. He’s accepted his faults and lets himself become buried in it. Knowing he didn’t deserve the key to open the doors, even though he wished to try. Steve can’t allow himself to hope for Autumn’s comfort - lifting away his grief. Glancing at her to see she’s fully looked away, staring mindlessly out the front window adorning sheer curtains. “Hm,” she hums, cheek tucked away between teeth. He knows that look - that response. It’s a mixture of disapproval, and relief to get the truth. A concoction to leave her in a state of confusion, and silent as she mulls it all over. “Can I ask you a question, now?” warnings: STEVE, STEVE (being a lil pervy.) Moments of soft things. Tension. ptsd flashbacks? Blood, character being drugged, use of gun. It's all poppin' off here my dudes. wc: 8,497

He stands in the halo of light, having taken a few steps back from the door to give an old friend the space she needed. In case she chose to cast him out, or assault him with words left buried from old pain. But there’s something else, isn’t there? Bursting through the front door as screams of helplessness rattled the foundation of the Byers home. She’s just beneath the window, gasping for air and visibly pained - unaware the monster was moving in on its prey. The boy acts before he thinks - the bat held in a tight grip as nails pierce its skin. She was safe then, and even after in his care while others stood in the background, fear shackling them to the floor. He wonders if she remembers that even after his failure as a friend, he would still fight for her. Take another verbal lashing from his social group if it meant she could find some form of peace. But her reaction isn’t entirely what he expects. There’s a small smile of amusement on his lips as he takes in her sleep shirt, hung down to her knees with E.T stitched into the front. Hair still damp with eyes blown wide in shock. “Nice shirt,” he comments, nodding in her direction. The compliment is slow to sink in, gears stuck as they tried to understand what was happening. Autumn leans out the door, head turning every which way in suspicion if he had come alone. Yet nothing but vacant cars lingered in the night, including his own parked just across the street. “Thanks. W-What are you doing here?”

Hands fall to hips, cocked to the side as he tries to force a look of relaxation - though he feels awkward, and under a heavy spotlight full of judgment. A huff of air passes aching lips. “Oh, well.. I was just in the neighborhood,” he offers with a crooked smile. Steve thinks he looks casual, and she doesn’t seem to buy it with the raise of a brow. The boy easily caves under her stare. “Okay, look,” he begins, hands now held out before him as the truth spills forward. “Today was fucked up. Like, so far beyond fucked up.” Her expression seems to ease, eyeing him up and down with every uncomfortable shift in his stance. “And you scared the shit out of me, so. Sue me.” Tired eyes soften, letting her weight fall against the frame with a heavy sigh in a sore chest. The boy refuses to meet her gaze, waiting for the rejection to hit the pavement. Meanwhile, her thoughts are spinning. “Shouldn’t - shouldn’t you be with Nance?” “I was, yeah,” he replies, hand reaching to rest over an aching neck from the sudden stress he endured. “I took her home. But she said she just..really wanted some time alone, y’know?” The teen doesn’t say anything at first, thoughts shifting to the girl with a broken heart, yet strength in her hands as she unleashes her anger on the creature. Revenge fueled her through the battle, only to dissipate in the quiet as reality sinks deep. “I just thought that maybe-” He teeters back and forth, bruised skin slipping between teeth as he reconsiders his offer - too fearful of the uncertain outcome. But how was he meant to go back home, pretending life was fine and the small group hadn’t witnessed hell reaching through their town. Nancy had her family, and so did Jonathan. But the two lost souls had nowhere else to turn. Who else could understand?

“Maybe I could keep you company. Maybe we could keep each other company. I don’t really know how well I can sleep after all of that,” he finishes with a laugh, face hot and chest pounding from the discomfort for taking that large step forward into once familiar territory. And he sees her gaze shift, biting at her cheeks as she ponders in silence. It only adds to the fire burning up his insides, bile threatening to rise up from the depths. Heart shaped lips part to take it all back - to wish her a goodnight as he slumps down the path. But she’s made up her mind, and to his surprise, she steps to the side for access into the lonely home. His movements are timid. Head ducking low to give his thanks as he shuffles across the threshold. It’s just as he remembers - not a single thing shifted or out of place, all routine and cozy. Until the clearing of her throat is heard, guiding attention back in her direction to see her gaze shifting between him and his shoes on freshly cleaned carpet. “Oh, shit,” Steve mumbles, frantically ripping them from his feet. He tries to spare an apologetic look, though distracted by the goosebumps to dance along bare legs. “Aren’t you cold? It’s almost December.” She wears a look of disbelief, a hint of amusement on her lips. “Really? You want t’talk about the weather?” A snort escapes without warning, laying free sneakers with the collection of shoes. “No, not really.”

Her back nestles against the door, stuck and unable to move forward - to live as if this were normal. To accept all that’s happened and push through this discomfort between the two, in hopes to make it easier. Steve seems to notice, placing hands on his sides once more to ask, “You hungry?” Lips pull into a frown as her mind runs the course of memories - when had she last had a proper meal? The sweets he purchased were already fading to leave a void in the pit of her stomach, seeking something - anything. “Starving,” she admits with a huff of laughter, finally pulling herself away from the surface to linger nearby. He claps his hands once, biting at his lower lip before moving through the Reid home, knowing its layout like the back of his hand. “Let’s see what we’ve got, shall we?” “Steve-” she tries to chime in, scoffing as the boy waves her off to pull open the refrigerator doors. It’s like every time before. Riding his bike or taking his car through rain or shine just to bother her - to sift through groceries and devour them as if it were a second home. He used to ask with a polite tone as a child, but with comfort came confidence. Waving at her father in total ignorance as he swallowed another handful of Boo Berry cereal. “Aha!” he cries out in excitement, staring deep into the freezer and rummaging for a neon yellow bag, holding it up in victory. “Pizza rolls!” The doors close and he flips the bag back and forth in his hands, eyes now on her. “Now the only question here is.. Do you want fast food or can you wait like, twenty minutes?” His brow is raised, waiting for her response and finds any nerves he felt prior drift out the window, taking in the smile on her face. “You have that memorized?”

A small frown etches over his features, flipping the bag to study small words with care. “Ten t’sixteen minutes. Whatever, I was close. Now sit your butt down, and let the chef work his magic.”

Autumn can’t fight the roll of her eyes, arms crossed as she moves into the den where they had spent countless hours in. Her exhausted body sinking deep into the sofa, with blankets pulled to rest over her lap. At first, the teen does nothing. Merely watching as the boy digs through cupboards for a pan and sheet to cook on, mumbling something incoherent to himself. Watching his back easily becomes tiring, opting to scan through channels on the television with head resting in her palm. The pictures flash carelessly - too impatient to linger for longer than a few seconds for something to catch her interest. It’s a mindless action - something to consume time and fill her mind with something more than just frightful memories. “Wait, wait,” Steve speaks up, appearing at her side with such stealth she had no idea he was even there. “Go back.” He demands in a soft tone, eyes never leaving the bright screen buried in the dim lighting of the room. The girls face twists in confusion, though doesn’t ask or hesitate to go to the previous channel. Roy Scheider stands disheveled on a beach, the waves crashing up against the shore as seagulls fly high above. “No shit,” Steve blurts out, lips turning upward into a smile while he hastily moves across her sight. “Make room! This is where it gets good,” he grunts as his body collapses into the couch, oblivious to her look of amusement. “It’s the beginning.” “Yeah, exactly.” With the shake of her head and a smile locked in place, she turns the volume up and lets the remote sit between them. She wonders how long it’s been since he last sat here. Since the two of them saw Jaws for the first time, eyes wide in wonder and racing hearts beating in their chests.

Things were different, then. They sat side by side with a bowl of popcorn shared between the two, her father peering in to check on them - not interested in watching it again as it had been out for years. Only now, they were old enough to endure the gruesome details. It’s almost like before. There’s a respectful distance, eyes lighting up with excitement as he watches the scenes unfold. Any commentary remains unspoken, merely basking in the company no matter if it left their fingers curling with tension. But the oven dings, and the two have their own plates. Mouths full and sparing small glances to the other party, overthinking every gesture and what to say. It goes on like this for what seems like forever. Dishes empty and in the sink, her eyes heavy with sleep and barely processing every scream of fear that booms through the box. Suddenly, it all goes dark - a startling act that has her lungs filling with a gasp. “I think it’s time for me t’go,” the boy says, a kind smile hidden in the shadows as he looks to the tired girl, all twisted up in her blanket. It dawns on her then - the inevitable loneliness. Her father had yet to come through the door, and Steve would soon drift away into the night. “Oh,”

Autumn doesn’t know what to say. Mind now alarmingly awake as thoughts race, crashing off of the track to burn. She had met evil. Teeth caught in the flickering light as it tried to tear her down. She could see it in every reflection, along with someone she couldn’t recognize in the chaos. A girl with a mind tearing itself wide open for the unknown to creep through. And in the oncoming silence, it’s a reality she’ll be forced to face. No more distractions to keep her standing tall. “What?” he chuckles. “Nothing.” The boy faces forward, hands clasped between denim clad knees as he mulls it all over, lips pursed before turning back. “I don’t have t’go. I just - I didn’t want to-” “D’you think Nancy would mind?” He sits in surprise, clearly caught off guard by the suggestion. The girl at his side seems equally shocked by her own words as a hand lays over her eyes, embarrassed. “No,” is his quick response. Hoping to ease down the tension. “No, I don’t think she would care. She seems t’like you more than me right now,” he ends in a laugh, watching as that hand falls to peek over the edge, inspecting him for any hint of a lie. But before she’s able to give in, something unexpected passes her lips - something he never truly gave clarity on many hours prior. “What did you do?” At first, he doesn’t seem to catch on - brows furrowed and waiting for more of an explanation. “This morning. I asked why Jonathan hit you.” The words are heavy, tying around ankles like rope to drag him back into the past - skin freshly cut and jaw aching. The hurt in ocean eyes is ever present, a reminder of what a piece of shit he was and still is. "I saw them together," he begins with a sigh. "Nancy and him. I tried t'talk t'you about it, remember? At that diner." There's remorse in his heart and it's heard on his tongue, a shameful gaze avoiding the girl's stare as she too drifts to a time before - when she turned her back on a boy seeking closure. "I don't blame you for leaving. I haven't done shit t'earn your trust back." Autumn can see him no matter the lack of light, watching hands rub together and the hesitation as he prepares for a nasty confession. An admission of guilt that tastes like blood and something rotting. "I didn't do right by her, either. I just - I felt so alone, y'know? Doesn't make it right, but it made me stupid." Steve leans up against the sofa again, fingers gripping at the armrest in anticipation for the verbal lashing. "I let Tommy write shit about her. He graffitied walls, signs - whatever he wanted. I never did it, but I didn't stop him, either."

Fingers fidget and he watches them mindlessly, carving out every detail from a painful memory he wanted to forget. But it's the story to change him - to shift the tides. Bringing him back to the person he was before. "Jonathan was just tryin’ t’help her. I was angry, hurting. I - I just,” “Just?” She chimes in. Voice quiet, nearly drowned out by the heavy words on his lips. But he hears her. Sees her now with arms crossed over E.T, tired eyes locked on him with an unreadable expression. “I wanted him t’hurt like me. I said horrible shit about him, and his family.” Hands fall to rest in his lap, attention pulled away to watch them pick at nails. A cell filled with shame and guilt holds him hostage, replaying constant reminders of only just this morning. He’s accepted his faults and lets himself become buried in it. Knowing he didn’t deserve the key to open the doors, even though he wished to try. Steve can’t allow himself to hope for Autumn’s comfort - lifting away his grief. Glancing at her to see she’s fully looked away, staring mindlessly out the front window adorning sheer curtains. “Hm,” she hums, cheek tucked away between teeth. He knows that look - that response. It’s a mixture of disapproval, and relief to get the truth. A concoction to leave her in a state of confusion, and silent as she mulls it all over. “Can I ask you a question, now?” Something new arises - a nervousness as she looks his way.

“I’m not stupid - well, I’m not that stupid. I got the scoop, yeah? Monsters, illegal lab shit, the Upside Down - whatever.” He’s more animated now - finding freedom with the lack of lecture he was so sure to get. His body twists, one leg curled up onto the couch to face her head on. “I know you. It wasn’t your bullshit ‘natural instincts’” He doesn’t see the way her arms tighten in their hold, shielding herself from his accusations - pulling deeper, hiding further out of sight. Autumn seeks to keep her reality safe by avoiding the issue head on. Steve doesn’t let up.”Y-you just-” he takes pause, snapping his fingers as they come crashing down against the cushion. “It was like..you could see it. Like you saw it before we even could.”

“What is it?” her friend asks, eyes filled with concern as he watches panic fuel her actions. “Somewhere - I don’t know. Not here, but somewhere. Almost like,” there’s a heavy pause with eyes looking towards the window covered in papers - waiting for a silhouette to just pass by it. “hunting. Hunting prey.” “Prey?”

A heavy exhale floods through her nose, averting her gaze once more to avoid his inquisitive stare. Nails digging a little deeper into the flesh of her arms - remembering the feeling of claws working their way through delicate flesh. She thinks of the constant ache as it followed her - not entirely there, but close enough to leave the hairs on the back of her neck standing. She would hold back her nightmares should anyone ask. But he was right - he did know her better than most. "D'you remember when we were kids? With the mirrors?" She shifts in place, knees easily pulled to her chest. "Seeing things that weren't always there." He remembers - of course he does. Sweet eyes filled with tears, sending her into panic before her dad came to get her for the day. The hurt seemed to fade out - making each day easier to endure until it was no longer thought of. "Of course I do. Are you telling me-?" "It's not that I saw it. Not then. It just felt..like you were being watched from every corner. Just something always at your back, y'know?" It's an action without thought - his body inching closer with head dipped low as if to keep a secret. "You've seen it before?" There's some hesitation - another sigh as she surrenders to glimmering eyes full of worry. Her arm is offered out on display, letting him study the mix of colors and fading scabs beneath the heavy night. It’s barely enough to see - but he squints and leans in closer, taking her wrist between his fingers. She ignores the twitch of muscles and the grip tightening ever so slightly, now understanding the meaning behind it all. “You’re serious.” It’s a statement, not a hint of question in his tone. The girl nods in response, though she’s unsure if he takes note. “I found it by accident,” Autumn snorts. But this feigned confidence doesn’t seem to last - lips falling to lay flat, deadpanned as its image flashes before her sight. “Or maybe it found me.”

Steve is left in silence - mind filled with every question and thought, creating a blockade somewhere in the traffic so nothing could slip through. He can only stare, letting her hand slip from his hold as she rips the blankets from now warmed legs. “M’tired.” That was it. She was done with the subject - letting mysteries of the universe evade her grasp, surrendering to long awaited comforts after a long day. A long week for that matter. It all was another problem for another day - or never. “I’m going t’bed,” she states, standing with hands stretched high above her head, letting an aching spine crack in satisfaction. A golden colored gaze is cast away out of politeness - seeing the fabric rise just higher over bare thighs. Though he catches the outline of shorts in the beam of light from the hallway above, saying a silent prayer to himself. “Steve?” “Huh? Y-yeah, what?” She seems quizzical - sparing a hard and long stare as her thumb gestures up the stairs, to which he immediately grabs at a throw pillow to adjust on the couch. “I can sleep here. Maybe stay up late and finish Jaws,” the boy teased. “Uh huh. And have my dad see you like that? I’m in deep enough shit as it is. Let’s go, before I change my mind.” She’s already halfway up the stairs by the time her words fully process. It’s not like they haven’t had sleepovers before. All naive with the night filled with blanket fortresses and board games. Things were different. She couldn’t stand him - and he doesn’t blame her. But maybe all it took was a life threatening encounter with an alien to loosely repair the string that once held them together. Steve is scrambling off of the couch and up the stairs - unwilling to hear the rejection, leaving the two of them alone with their nightmares as they parted.

He laughs awkwardly at her back, swallowing down the nerves like rocks lodged in his throat. All she can do is shake her head dismissively, pushing forward into her room where he stares with wide eyes. He’s mesmerized - studying with hands on his hips. It hadn’t been that long since his last time here - but things had clearly changed. Furniture pushed around to her satisfaction, growing bored by the same view every morning. More greenery in pots and books spilling out onto the floor - well used and no more room for storage. The door clicks shut and she moves around him with ease, digging through a closet in search of what Steve may need. “You’ve definitely expanded,” he says in awe. Leaning forward to investigate jewelry and crystals laid out on the desk. His attention catches sight of something not meant to be seen - something from the past. There’s a sensation to tug and rip at his insides, all twisted up in guilt and something warm like a summer glow. Polaroids decorate the surface of their time at a festival. Smiling and full of stupidity as he crammed a handful of cotton candy in her mouth. But they don’t stand out in the light like the ones pinned to her mirror. Jonathan took his place, even some of Will’s birthday stayed up, holding a cake up to his head for comparison. Steve wasn’t a cherished memory like them, but he wasn’t pushed into the darkness to be forgotten either. “Hey,” he breaks through the silence, a nervous chuckle rattling his chest as he fights through the discomfort of discovering secrets. “What’s goin’ on over here?”

The boy leans across her bed, one knee pushing himself forward while on both hands to study something delicate in her windowsill. A tall stand with a pastel globe just at the top, decorated in gold roses. It’s nearly overflowing with rings and gems, and he’s fighting the urge to pick one up for a better look. “Is this like, some sort of witchy thing?” He questions with a genuine smile. Looking back over his shoulder with intrigue, and some relief she wasn’t scowling at his behavior. She was, however, confused. Standing with blankets folded over arms, the girl lets out a snort before laying out blankets on the floor. Just as she always did with Jonathan. “It’s an ashtray I found at a garage sale.” “Oh.” Steve pulls back as she reaches across the same mattress for a pillow, pushing it into his chest. She doesn’t meet his gaze, instead pulling back her covers to slide inside - and he again, pretends to not notice the legs on display. He turns his back, hands squeezing at the pillow as he whispers to only himself, “Stupid. So stupid-” “What?” Or so he thought. “Nothing! Nothing, just - sore is all,” he excused with a lazy grin, hands fluffing his makeshift bed before he settled in place. Autumn accepts his response, falling back with a heavy sigh and eyes locked on a popcorn ceiling. The stare is long lasting, finding faces formed within patterns to stare back at her. Or the rows of teeth as they searched for a feast. A toy made from flesh and bone. The silence is deafening - memories of its scream bringing her heart rate up into her ears, thunderous and dismissive of blankets shuffling back and forth.

He searches for comfort. Body twisting each way and kicking out his feet until he finds something easy to rest in. His back stretches out along the blanket. Tall and pulling at sore vertebrae with hands tucked beneath his head. He doesn’t hear the creature now - not like her. He can only tumble over his own thoughts as he continues to soak in all that she’s filled her room with - including plants where a leaf hangs dangerously low over his face. He sees laundry - some hung up neatly in a dark closet, while others hang lazily over a hamper. Some things he can recognize - including a familiar patchy sweater. She had worn it for her birthday - he made fun of it then, saying it looked like carpet ripped up from the arcade. But it complimented her eyes, and she found security in its warmth. “Your birthday is comin’ up.” His voice breaks through the quiet - tilting his head her way as he notices the creak in her bed while she shifts. Their eyes meet halfway. Him blissful, in contrast to her more confused expression. “What?” “Your..birthday? I know when you get older, your memory goes, but-” he teases, letting out a huffed laugh as she falls back in the pile, groaning at his casual behavior. “What are we havin’?” He asks, a smile still shining on his face while she continues to push through the barrier of confusing feelings. “Cookies N’ Cream? Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” Autumn is suddenly up again, reaching for the light at her bedside to catapult them into darkness - to end his rambling. “Goodnight, Steve,” she offers with a sigh, wrapping herself in a cocoon he can no longer see. “Night, Autumn. Let me know if you need anything.”

He’s there - holding out his hand should she need to take it. To seek support after a long day uncovering the unholy beings. Someone to carry the weight she selfishly held onto. But Steve has his own baggage to work through. To unpack, organize and understand. Coming to terms with it all. So, buried beneath the night with only the moon to cast a gentle glow, she gives back. “You too, Steve.”

It takes too long to give in to the exhaustion. Eyes are heavy, body weak and aching with every breath. And yet..despite the comfort of soft pillows and warm blankets, they still toss back and forth. Despite the security they held silent praise for now that they weren’t alone, still left them looking to the corners in fear of what could linger. Steve wants to sleep - he’s tried. Eyes glancing to her bed, captured by the glow of midnight. He waits until her movement stops - until gentle breaths fill the shared space. The boy finally surrenders now knowing she felt safe enough to rest. Their gentle snores blend to create a lullaby to keep them locked away in a place of dreams. Or, something made from nothingness. Too far gone to create a world where everything they desired was merely at their fingertips. It was a dark curtain to embrace and weigh them down. An anchor in the abyss. Those chains begin to rattle and wear down. Rusted and shattering. It has the girl stretching out tall beneath covers, foot jumping back as it graces the cold metal of the frame. A light forces its way through closed eyes, prying them open little by little until the girl makes out a fuzzy reading in red; “4:09AM.” Autumn wants to groan - wants to get angry over a disrupted sleep. But the sound of blissful slumber just nearby keeps her still, and quiet. She lets her gaze wander - vision clearing slightly as knuckles rub against deprived eyes. And for a moment, she thinks it’s all an illusion - a trick of the mind as a glow creeps in through the barely opened door of her room. Dim, yet bright enough to pull her attention towards it.

They weren’t alone anymore.

Had her father recognized Steve’s car across the way? Would he be suspicious? Had he already seen through the break and found the sleeping boy on her floor? She could only imagine what he would say - if anything at all. She chooses not to wait until morning to find out. The blankets are pushed back and she’s cautiously tiptoeing across the way - avoiding long limbs and pausing as he mumbles in the quiet. She takes care in pulling the door back - letting her body act as a shield to cover his face from the light. And she’s left frozen for only a moment, struggling to take in the sight of his office door cracked open. The work and silenced phone calls made in this room were a well kept secret. She would ask, and he would answer, “It’s boring, really. Work documents, organizing shipments-” His words became mumbles as she lost interest. Until the girl began to consider the Dream Project tucked away in filing cabinets, leaving her to stare at the closed off room. In this moment, she doesn’t call out to him - listening for movement inside as she takes slow steps forward. He would hear her with the creak of the floorboards, yet he doesn't acknowledge his daughter's presence by hastily slamming the door shut. Had things shifted since their argument? Was he welcoming her into a world she didn’t truly understand?

There’s hesitance as her hands lay against the wood, easing it back to reveal inch by inch. A neatly kept desk with files stacked over one another, a glass paperweight to hold them down. A fake tree gifted as a fathers day present is still standing tall in the corner, clean of dust. She had only ever been able to glance inside this room - telling Ian it was lifeless yet knowing they didn’t share her green thumb. There’s a black coat laid out over the back of his chair, and a shadow against the wall. He’s tall - full of confidence to stand where her father should have been. His hand pushed against the cabinet drawer with a gentle thud, before turning to meet frightened eyes in the doorway. Unshaken by the presence, like he had been expecting her. The man's smile is warm, like the light dancing across his features. But blue eyes hold ill intent, and trickery - the same as hours before when they crossed paths in the yard. He captures her the moment the connection is made. A girl held hostage in her own home - unable to shake away the invisible restraints to hold her. Mind and body consumed by fear as hands dig through cluttered memories in search of something lost. Something familiar yet just out of touch. Buried with a purpose.

“Good morning.” Words drift through the tense air, sweeping through the girl where those same words echo. It’s a projection - a scene unfolding in hazy flashes in the corners of her mind where the stranger offers kindness. A gentle touch of reassurance to run along the flesh of a child's cheek. She feels it even now, though cold. A ghost from another life.

Another life.

Someone else’s life.

But it shifts and sways with every second. White walls and brilliant lights shining down on a much smaller hand tucked away inside a guardian's hold. A man made from money, and power. His suit was stitched from linen and wool, ironed perfectly with the morning's cologne blossoming inside the threads. He smiles down to the child - to her. It’s a different smile compared to the one he shares in the small room. Less apprehension, and filled with pride. Her hands tighten into fists at her sides - witnessing it cling tighter onto him as nerves build in her chest. It’s filling to the brink, pushing out every breath until no room is left. He can see the world she knows collapse in on itself. A structure unfolding to reveal secrets pushed down into the darkest depths. He studies wide eyes glossed over with tears, just barely at the surface as she struggles to make sense of it all. The dam is breaking. A rush of violence against sturdy walls, and all she can do is watch the destruction it brings. He can’t imagine the sights to play out in her mind, but knows it’s pulling the girl into madness. Forced to swim in an endless ocean, or drown in her denial. He acts on patience, no matter how thin it now was. “I’m sorry,”

A click around a child’s neck - like the slam of a prison door. Controlled, and contained. Shaken hands reach to feel the smooth surface of a collar, prods imbedding deep into flesh. Innocent eyes are filled with sorrow - finding a familiar man kneeling down to their level with hands squeezing small arms. It’s meant for reassurance, but uncertain for who. “Doing this brings me no joy. I hate to see you suffer,” his words sway like a delicate breeze, only meant for the two of them to hear as they continue to pout and plead in silence. “You must learn.” He stands, hands pressed against his thighs for better support. A strong back is all the child sees as he turns away, heading towards an opening. Unaware once sweet eyes fall into a glare, unwavering as the door slams shut to lock them away.

He takes his time. Long legs carrying him towards her fathers desk, hands tucked deep into pockets with his attention falling to the work laid out on varnished wood. “I know I must frighten you. To you, I’m only a stranger.” The paperweight is placed off to the side - such care in his movements that it hardly makes a noise as it settles at the desk. The silence stretches on, biding his time and waiting for every word to push through any remaining blockade she had made. What they had made. She doesn’t move, and he analyzes the paperwork and inked scribbles across each line before flipping their covers back over. A heavy sigh floats through tension. “I wish things were different.”

A cry echoes through the halls. Wailing, screaming as legs kick and arms reach to grab at stronger hands to hold them. Nails rip across the exposed flesh of hands, giving the child momentary freedom before another body fills the empty space. The hold is more firm, and they move just a little faster. “No!” Double doors part at the child’s back, making way for the nightmare to come. It’s visible just over their shoulder - a chair bound in leather with straps to hang loose. And it’s coming closer - the chilled material meeting the back of their knees before a final attempt is made. “No!” The tiles of white walls rattle and shatter. Bodies pressed with force up against the structure, others laid flat over the shimmering floor, fighting the whiplash and stolen breath. Now set loose, the child runs without a second look at the men and women to carve out their path. Just beyond the doors, a look of sympathy keeps the child deadlocked. Once a hero, now the villain. A man to give shelter, a purpose, before stripping away a sense of self with tests and punishments. Promises of life, love, and security seemed far from reach as a needle worked its way deep into the skin. “I wish it were different.” His voice carries like an echo down the hall, watching as a small body fueled by strength, and anger, is weakened. Broken down into nothing.

Thin lips part to speak, lungs filled with vile words wrapped in what he believes to be kindness. It’s all bullshit. The shadow that follows him is as present as ever, working to hide his demons. “Get the fuck out of my house.” Autumn can feel nails digging into her own palm, heartbeat racing faster now that she’s released a held breath. The man doesn’t fumble - doesn’t flinch back or seek shelter from her anger. His lips merely twitch, holding that same expression as only moments ago. “Just as I remember. You’re taller, of course,” There’s a light chuckle to rumble within his chest, making light of the moment and hoping to ease her panic. To gain trust. But she’s lost in stormy waves, breaking through the darkness to gasp for air as she’s pushed back down into the void. She can hardly see the room she stands in. Only collisions of familiarity, and confusion as she watches the child move through a room made of rainbows and shocking white.

Rainbows.

He takes a cautious step forward, finding some form of comfort in seeing her posture relax. Fingers now hung loose against her thighs, with shoulders slouched. The girl's eyes were vacant, glossed over and peering right through him into another world. Another time. She can barely keep up as it spins out of control. He wonders if she even knows he’s there anymore, only ghosts to one another to pass in the night. But one wrong step leaves wood to creak beneath his shoes, and it's as though the curtain is pulled back to reveal looming danger. “Don’t,” she warns. A simple word creates a wall - a barrier between a stranger and the girl. Together, they collide. The unseen force crashes into him until long legs stumble backwards, arms held out in search of support. Silver hair is a little more tousled than a moment before - windswept. He doesn’t seem to mind in the moment, too focused on the pressure that holds him at bay - waiting with impatience for it to falter. The man's smile is a little wider - a little more hopeful despite the threat against him. Despite all she could do in this small room, even without the comprehension of how far she could truly go. “Don’t let it control you.”

Red. It’s the color of anger, pulsating within a child's glare that’s locked on a young boy and the few friends that come to his aid. It’s the first color of the rainbow which she stands over, bare feet firmly planted on the cold tile. Unflinching, unwavering no matter the disruption all around. It’s the color of blood, rising up to fill the skin with pigment - veins nearly bursting from tension. The blood drips from opened wounds, now decorating the once perfectly polished floor. Dripping from their nose to sink into angelic fabric, now soaked and stained. Clear evidence from a short lived battle. The boy is standing, eyes heavy with frustration soon settling into something more somber, looking beyond his assailant to the man in an all too familiar suit. “Do you see what she did?” The boy's voice cracks as he calls out to the taller figure, attention shifting between him and the child to stand in his way. A girl that merely defends herself against one too many verbal and physical assaults - pushed to the edge. “She attacked me! She’s crazy!” The stare holds, undisturbed by the presence just at her back - a heavy shadow that brings safety, and fear all the same. “Go to your room, Two. Same for the rest of you.” Disbelief comes washing in, a violent wave to shake the child in place and discard any hope he held to have the girl locked away in confinement. Out of his sight, and out of his space. “But-” “Go. I’ll have someone take you to medical.” It’s a final warning, it’s evident in his tone. Stern, yet filled with something compassionate - every word filled with traces of sympathy. Two appeared dejected, shoulders fallen and head hung low to avoid any more eye contact. Though he spares an unsettling glance her way as they pass in the room, and she does well to follow his every motion until he’s moved beyond double doors. Her focus is only redirected as pale fingers tug at the collar of her gown, tutting in disapproval with a heavy sigh to follow. “We need to work harder, don’t we.” It’s a certainty - never posed as a question to ask as he slowly sinks to her level, hands fallen between aching knees. “You can’t let it control you.”

A jagged breath escapes her chest - taking with it any remaining strength she clung to. Now weak in the knees, with a body up against the doorframe. Tears held back are now set free - cascading over cheeks to vanish in her neckline.��She can see the girl through the large mirror where the boy once stood, as if a connection had been made. It’s brief - quick enough to miss if you hadn’t paid close attention, but long enough to see familiar eyes just before they trail after this boy named Two. “I don’t understand.” She can see steel doors - nearly bolted shut and refusing to give way as she rips at the door handle. “002” boldly pressed into the surface - an eerie silence beyond the barrier, forcing her to surrender and continue on looking for Will. “I-I don’t-” “Of course you don’t.” His voice is soft, warm and filled with kindness. The comfort it brought was something familiar - just at her fingertips before ripping her hand away to ignore. Encouraged, the man moves with care - testing each step for a sudden reaction now that the force has fallen. “It’s been so long. You’ve grown - changed.” “Two,” is all that falls past her lips - barely above a whisper. Light as a feather to dance in the still air, but the meaning with it is weighted, leaving the name to collapse at their feet. “Good,” it’s a choked out response. A forced smile as he remembers the sight of his body laid out, adorned in his own blood. A cherished soul gone, like all of them. “You remember.” “N-no. No-” He’s close now, every breath felt against her skin and she trembles under his stare, unable to shake away the fright as it pierces through her chest.

He reaches and she finally stills - zeroed in on his hand as it moves in closer. There’s a tender touch to wipe away her tears, brows turned down in dissatisfaction once she flinches away. “You carry a heavy burden, don’t you? Yet, you don’t truly know what it is.” Stained with her sadness, that same hand falls to seek shelter in his pocket. Autumn doesn’t take note of the way it balls into a fist inside the fabric. “No one can understand, can they? Things never meant to be seen - or done. The sacrifices made. I know how much you’ve struggled.” The girl's heart is racing - a pounding ready to break free from confinement, killing her on the spot. Its force makes every breath unsteady, vision a little hazy. But the tears are slow to stop - skin now tight, with a gaze quickly cast to the side to check for a clear exit. He doesn’t seem to notice the sudden shift in the air. “I understand. I can help you, if you let me.” There’s a moment of silence, deep enough to hear each breath and thud of hearts - his more calm and contained while she runs rampant. Then, a shuffle across the floor - a small collision down the hall as a boy muttered, “Shit, shit-” There’s a hiss through gritted teeth, groaning before he pushes the pain to the back of his mind. “Autumn?” He calls out, finding her bed empty and the worry instantly takes hold. He’s unseen in the shadows - yet inching closer and his presence holds their attention. A new fear begins to brew. “Steve,”

Something hot - scorching like lava enters her veins the moment she’s distracted. Sweet smiles are long gone now that she’s fallen into his grasp. The safety pin from a grenade has been pulled and he knows he should regret it. The filing cabinets rattle against the wall, creating holes where they rested as their contents flutter through the air. The desk is toppled over, his legs tripping over its smooth edges, sending him tumbling down where the fake plant lays. Glass shatters - everywhere. The destructive force goes off like a bomb, shaking the foundation and sweeping down the halls, taking everyone with it. All but her. She’s out of the room the moment the stranger is gone from her reach - her only focus being Steve, as he lays out on the carpeted floor with pain in his eyes and ringing in ears. “What was-?” There’s no time wasted - no time coddling his wounds or giving an explanation as the boy is ripped up from the floor, hands tightly locked. “Autumn, what-” They move together through the home with haste, leaping over fallen photographs and ignoring the blood in the pads of their feet. She’s still pulling with an unapologetic strength - freedom just in sight though drenched in shadows. Dark figures in the distance move in waves, a light sensation tickling against her chest as her skin becomes hot. The girl is losing all sensation, and her world is spiraling as though she had drunk the foulest tasting poison. A foot slips and it sends her tumbling into the step below - body heavy and clung to the railing for support. She can barely feel the chilled wood against her skin, or see the face of a boy as he kneels before her - hands cupping an expressionless face. Steve calls out her name, before drifting to the second floor where a man stands in the halo of light. A cloth is held to the corner of his mouth, dabbing away at the blood to fall from a split lip.

Autumn follows his focus, though struggling to do so as every muscle begins to harden into lead. But the danger is still there, and she’s got someone to protect. So as he makes the move to the first step, she nearly throws herself down the rest of the way - Steve now leading through the dark. She can feel the grip he has on her - tight, and desperate. But the boy slips away, hands left empty as her body finally gives in to the pressure it can no longer support. The weight of the world rests against her back - crushing Autumn deeper into the earth, stealing away her life, and forcing her into the abyss of death. “Come on!” The girl can feel his breath, words panicked into her ear as he tries to carry her. There’s an attempt in telling him to run - to go. Mumbled and buried beneath his frustrated grunts that soon drift into nothing, leaving him alone and in danger. Steve sees that her eyes have closed, and that familiar dread settles in as the man moves in closer. There’s no time to check for a pulse - no time to worry about the shards embedded deep into their skin. He stands, groaning in pain and nearly limping towards the front door - making a plan to run for his own car down the road, no matter the hurt. And without warning, the exit seems to make way for them - though rather than seeing the glimmer of fading stars, he faces the barrel of a gun. Eyes widen in surprise as they spot one another, Steve stumbling backwards until he takes in the familiar sight of Hopper. Shoulders tight, arms held strong and finger ready on the trigger - a man on a mission and not once faltering. “Get t’my truck,” he orders, stare striking enough to hold the man in place at the foot of the stairs. “Get moving, Harrington.” Steve spares cautious glances to the Chief and just across the room, before slipping his way past and racing out across the lawn.

It had only been hours since the two men last spoke. An exchange of words, and a hesitant deal lingering in the stale air of a familiar black car. Will had been saved, and it was his turn to keep everyone in line now that the fog had cleared. Say nothing, do as told - all for the sake of life. But now, standing here in the dim living space of the Reid residence, all of those promises begin to fade out into a blur of nonsense. “I thought I was done looking at your ugly face,” Hopper coldly states, focus and gun still directed to the center of his torso, waiting for that wrong move to be made. Dr. Brenner’s chest rattles with a small chuckle, that same cloth wiping along sore lips before it’s folded, tucked away out of sight. “I’ve come to bring her home.” “She is home.” Jim Hopper was no fool. Hearing the impossible stories of a girl he kept under a watchful eye, and comparing them all to the child named Eleven. They shared the same solemn expression - eyes distant, haunted by something dark and unspoken. That girl was gone - ripped from the threads of reality before their very eyes. Lost to them forever. Autumn was still here, and he was going to fight like hell to keep it that way. “So you all believe,” Brenner comments. “I know differently, and I suspect she does as well.” “Cut the bullshit, Brenner,” Hopper advances, remaining just out of his reach yet close enough to guarantee a fatal shot. “You and Ian in on this, huh? Whatever the hell this is.” The man says nothing, remaining calm no matter death staring him in the face. But his silence confirms what Hopper already knew. “She’s not going anywhere with you, and she’s not staying here. You think I wouldn’t look? Look at all of his blank files? Ian Reid doesn’t exist, and neither does she. I thought you would have tried a little harder. Tried t’hide the fact that she’s not his daughter, and she sure as shit isn’t yours.”

It’s the first time he sees that confidence sway. His fake pleasantries now buried beneath a small scowl, biting at his tongue to contain this new anger as it boils and scars him. “Fuck your deal. If I see you, or any of your pals so much as even look at her, just know, I’ve got a bullet for every one of you. And I’ll make sure everyone knows about your little secret.” The gun is finally lowered, feet carrying his tired form towards the wide open door, without breaking the connection they held. Intense stares hold threats, piercing and ready for the kill. Brenner does not chase, does not argue across the growing distance. He simply watches with disdain as Autumn slips from his hold, the door slamming shut to seal him off from further reaching out for her.

Dr. Brenner is many things. He is loving, filled with encouragement and curiosity. He’s a man of power, standing tall above the rest as they work around his demands. Someone filled with grief at the loss of his world - his everything. A monster filled with anger, and disappointment at every failure in trying to build it from the ground up.

But above all else, Dr. Brenner is patient.

[juliedrawz]

🌼 Big Info/Update on my "Coco" Book 🌼

So it's almost been a year ...

Wow! What a journey so far! I wanted to take my time to talk to you "every dear one of you who loves my art and follows me" for a bit. Now, this will be a long post so keep that in mind!

I cannot remember a year in which I went through so many changes. I grew a lot mentally and I learned a lot. When I first watched Coco, I didn't know at all what kind of impact it will have on me. I know it did for a whole lot many more than just me. It's not just a movie, it's something that moved my heart in depths I cannot explain. Look, the only movie franchise who ever was able to impact me that deeply was Lord of the Rings/Hobbit, but then Coco came along and well ... Héctor! ... and Ernesto.

But talking about Héctor in every little detail possible is planned for another post. There is so much! And Ernesto even more. Ernesto is actually (has actually) been my biggest surprise this year 🤯 And let me tell you why for a little because this is a important part of this whole post!

Villains. We all know what a villain is. When I first saw Ernesto, I was instantly drawn to his charmful personality. I love mexico! I love mexicans, (they happen to be one of the funniest, kindest and most temperamental ones I ever came across and they understand how to celebrate life and death!) At first, we only see what Ernesto can do without knowing anything just yet. I was blown! Let me get this down, he's a musícan with a inrcedible voice (I have an opera education background so I connect to his trained voice), he's a actor, a showman, he's a phenomenal horseback rider and he's handsome! I don't need to tell you about the punch in the guts you end up having later!

Oh, yes! Something I would say! Seriously! I do act like that whenever I am burning for something! *cough* snowflakes quite recently! It was late and my boss only had 1 client left and it started snowing big flakes and I went full child excited mood "think Ernesto and fireworks" until they hit me with their "Augh, snow! Cold, wet, annoying!" And then I literally turned into this cinematic drama queen telling them about nostalgia and the spirit of christmas! *laugh* Their faces 😆 Bah humbug! Truly!

Can you imagine Ernesto in the role of Ebenezer Scrooge? I can! 😆 Héctor, Ceci and Imelda as the 3 spirits of christmas. Yes sir! I want that for christmas! *cough* aaand I'm rambling! I was talking about my book ... yes ... back to that!

Anyway! Moving on! I've told you before that as an INFP personality it's in my nature anyway to think and feel myself deeper into things (whatever they are) and I need about 2 or 3 rows to analyze and solidifying my opinion. That's what happened with Ernesto. Yes, at first I was "heck this guy!" Mildly said, I did not like Ernesto. One. Bit. I was mad and I, for the first few moments, labled him as a villain too! But then I rewatched and rewatched and rewatched Coco and I analyzed Ernesto. And after I went "wait a dang minute!" I realized, no, this man is certainly not your typical "Bad guy!" And after my Dad "an ex-soldier and chef prison guard" confirmed my analysis, I started researching and studying on human behavior, trauma (PTSD) and especially psyche! Now, I wanted to do this anyway because of Héctor and Imelda but it played into my hands with Ernesto. But it also flipped my whole opinion of him. It is a canon fact, that Héctor and Ernesto grew up together and were like brothers to each other and I had the statement, that Ernesto isn't proud of what he's done. Oh boy did that flip tables for me! Because guess what! A true villian is evil, period. You don't go thinking about any redemption because they are that far gone! And a truly rotten, evil soul does not regret their actions or deeds, they are perfectly fine and content with them. I would love to share my whole Sherlock Holmes 🔎 action I did on Ernesto with you but I can't because that would def. spoil everything that is to come!

Ok, this whole Ernesto case has changed and impacted my book! And not only that. The longer I wrote, I got back my grammar and writing skills (after not truly writing for years!) I improved and only after months and then going back to the first half of my book, I realized that many things weren't the way I wanted them anymore. The plot was now solid (wasn't at first) some age/timeline aspects changed! I tweaked some things! Grammar too. And that means I will need to go over my whole first bunch of chapters eventually!

Now I really know where my book is heading! From beginning to end! I now have the silver lining! That also means, the Title of my book has changed! But I will change it in time, not just yet!

The thing with Ceci 👓

Honestly, when I first included Ceci in my book, I, just like with many things, as I mentioned, had no idea what to do with her! I knew I wanted her in, because of that one scene! She instantly had me with her sassy attitude. And since it was pretty clear that she and Héctor knew each other and that she's been helping him not only once, I knew that there had to be a connection. And so I went with it. But that was still raw and not well thought through. That came fairly quickly though! And by now, Ceci is, next to Imelda one of the main characters! She plays a big role and she will be very important for the future!

My Book - Not just any other Fanfic

I know that everyone has their own opinion, view of things and headcanons. This is mine! But while it is my headcanon, I had the goal from the moment I sat down and decided "I'm going to do this!" To make my book feel as canon as possible. I knew I didn't just want to create yet another "great" fanfiction, I wanted to create something that is way more than just that. Something that could give huge Coco fans like me something back. Something that has an impact, something that shares what I have in my heart at least a little! I wanted to do something that hasn't been done before! And for once, I dedicated myself to it, no matter how long it will take, I will finish it! Oof, didn't that sound like something Héctor would say?

This thing has become my baby! 😂

I wanted to stay "true" to each character, stay in line and make readers go "yep, that's how it all happened" I wanted the characters to stay real and authentic. I didn't want to change them or make them do things that would fall out of their character. I knew I wanted my book to circle around Héctor mainly but the longer I worked on it, the more I understood that Ernesto, Ceci and Imelda are just as much of a part of Héctor! And developing their story, they became a huge part.

I wanted and still want to bring emotions across as if you'd feel them! I also knew and now I know even more, that my book is "in no way" for children! It is in everyway for us adults, for teens at least! Because I go deeper and touch on topics that are scary, painful, harsh and dark. You'll see that even more in chapters to come!

Conclusion ❗️

Since it's a real book I am working on, I realized that it is pretty normal that some chapters take weeks, sometimes even months to write. I understood that it's ok to take my time! And if it ends up taking me 2 or 3 years to finish it. I stopped feeling guilty when I cannot post new content fast enough because it just takes a lot of time and effort. And besides my passions, life happens and continues. Work happens to be exhausting sometimes, not all weekends end up being a free-time for me. And there are family gatherings, normal things to do, as plain as grocery shopping. And recently, christmas. But I appreciate every time I get to work on my book and my art!

-

So, yes, I had to get to this conclution on my own. While it is clear for others. And that has everything to do with my personality. I love pleasing people and making people happy. And by all means, I love love love what I do! If I could I would double my arms and work on more tings faster! Sometimes I wish I could stay home and work on my hobbies only but that isn't going to happen for me.

So at that point. I want to say "Thank you!" AGAIN! For all you guys who have been sticking around so far! For all the kind words! I hope you'll stick around for the next year/years to come and keep Coco alive!

🌼 Coco is timeless 🌼

It is so much more than just bringing across a deep important message! It has earned itself a very special place in my heart! It has caused me to pick up writing again, and it made me pick up my guitar and finally learn it! I will finish telling Héctor's story! And Ernesto's along with it! And I am no longer scared if some might end up hating it or calling me crazy for it! Because, like Héctor said, then I am, un poco loco! And I want to be nothing else!

[morimakesfanart]

will there be any angst in Sindria's Prophet

Yes, but it most likely won't/hasn't been coming from the place you're expecting. Without giving anything away, Mori has cried multiple times already, and there are growing tensions that will get worse as the story progresses.

Stuff about living with PTSD and low detail spoilers under the cut

Since I'm someone who grew up in an unsafe environment, the fact that things have been going well for so long is frightening for Mori. I have written multiple moments of Mori reassuring themself and repeating to themself what is actually happening because of this. I have also had multiple scenes and references to Mori meditating. These are all moments of them actively grounding to control their anxiety. They don't feel safe most of the time, but that is normal for them, they are aware of it, and they know how to calm themself down when they need to. They have been doing their best to hide it, including managing other characters' feelings, but as they get closer to others they will start slipping up. Things going well feels like the calm before the storm, and if a storm doesn't come eventually Mori will make one happen so they can have a feeling of control in their expected pattern. It isn't a conscious choice. That is what living with cptsd is like. Them crying in front of Ja'far was one instance of this -the next is coming up soon- and as Mori gets closer to everyone and things keep being safe and easy, the out bursts will get bigger until they are actually able to accept the peace as the expected.

However, if your question is "will anything traumatic happen on screen in the story?" then my answer is: I'm not sure. Since one of my biggest goals for this story is learning to feel comfortable with feeling safe, I probably won't have any new truama's happen until after this one is mostly resolved. It would act as proof that Mori does trust the others enough to truly feel safe around them as a baseline. Basically: thinking of others for their help when afraid instead of trying to figure things out along.

This is something Sinbad will also be working through in Sindria's Prophet. He is over coming a god complex and illusions of grandeur. With all big personality changes even when he decides to change it will take time for him to stop dirtying his hands because that's the habit and skill he's been practicing for the past 15 years. That will definitely cause tension as time goes on, and there are a few moments I have planned that will definitely be more angsty.

---

On a more personal note:

I don't just have C&A PTSD, I went through therapy for them so I have the skills to talk myself down so I don't end up having an episode in public or around people I don't trust. In order to survive my childhood, I became extremely good at compartmentalizing my emotions, so I don't feel if I can't handle it. I also grew up in theater and being forced into events where I had to learn how to be pleasing to others looking at me. This made it hard for others to notice when I actually had a problem. Even at my baseline it is always there in the background waiting for a moment of weakness or absent mindedness to take over. This fic is me putting myself in an environment where I am not just safe, but can rely on multiple people to actually help me when I need it. As I continue to recover, I am wearing my heart on my sleeve more and more, and that is also freightening. I keep expecting to be hurt for having feelings other than "happy", and when that doesn't happen I'm not sure what to do with myself. Those fears are going to come out more and more, the more Mori bonds with the others.

[the-archlich]

Dynasty Warriors: Who Is Xu Sheng

Although it wouldn't be correct to call Xu Sheng an obscure figure, he's certainly not one of Wu's most famous commanders. There are, however, a few interesting things to be said about him.

Xu Sheng doesn’t have an especially big footprint in 3K fiction. Like a lot of 3K figures he’s been an NPC in Dynasty Warriors for a long, long time and an officer in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms series. His stats in the latter are generally above average, so that’s nice for him.

He was never your first choice for something but it never hurt to have him along for the ride and he’s one of the better “late game” officers. He doesn’t really have a presence outside of these games, so there’s not much to talk about in this section.

All things considered, then, I was pretty surprised when they added him as a playable character in DW9. As is usually the case with Xu Sheng he wouldn’t have been my first choice but it’s not a decision I could really complain about, either. The most active part of his career overlaps nicely with the portion of Wu’s history DW cares about and he was certainly an accomplished individual, so it’s a solid choice.

I don’t really think I have anything to say about Xu Sheng in DW9, though. He gets the moments you’d expect if you have any familiarity with him, but outside of that he’s mostly a background figure. I can’t identify any particular personality traits he has or character motivations. I’d like to see him as a more dynamic figure but with what we got, I don’t have a lot to talk about.

Someone with more passion for Xu Shu wrote in anonymously and gave me their opinion. I’ll share it here because I don’t have any opinions of my own to give about his DW9 characterization.

Xu Sheng's DW9 Characterization: He doesn’t have much of a massive presence aside from the Guangling Fake Wall thing. But from some of his lines in 9 Vanilla and Empires, he feels more like a reverse Wang Yi. He developed PTSD from losing Xu Province, but instead of going all vengeance mode, he tries to be a better person and defend Wu as an atonement for losing his homeland. He does have moments of lapsed judgement like him doubting on Zhou Tai because pirate bad but made up in ZT's ending.

I think KT wants Xu Sheng to be more like Wu's version of Guan Xing and Li Dian where they wanted smarterish warriors? Though he also is heavy on Japan's love for "gap moe '' where he has lines where he likes sweets and he cries when he feels an extreme emotion worthy of it like accomplishment or gratefulness or loss. Also they fucked up the Fake Wall story in that everyone in Wu was on board with the tactic instead of being Sheng's "fuck you did it anyway" thing.

Make of that what you will. For now we’ll move on to Xu Sheng in the Yanyi. Xu Sheng is first mentioned in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms as an officer who joins Sun Quan prior to Chibi.[1]

During the campaign, Zhou Yu sends him and Ding Feng to capture and kill Zhuge Liang. Zhuge Liang anticipated this and isready with a fast boat. When Xu Sheng’s ship draws near, Zhao Yun shoots the rope holding its sail, which allows Zhuge Liang’s to get away and intimidates Sun Quan’s officers into not following. Ding Feng shrugs it off saying,“Zhuge Liang is too clever for anyone; and Zhao Zilong is the bravest of the brave.” Later, Xu Sheng and Ding Feng serve as Zhou Yu’s guards during the fire attack.[2]

Xu Sheng next appears at the siege of Jiangling, acting as an assistant to the general Jiang Qin. Although bested in battle twice by Cao Ren, he plays a key role in eventually defeating his army in the field.[3] Later, he and Ding Feng are involved in an entirely fictitious attempt to capture Liu Bei at his wedding with Lady Sun but are shamed by the lady into letting the couple pass. They subsequently join up with Zhou Yu and pursue Liu Bei but are unsuccessful.[4]

Xu Sheng returns as a commander at Hefei. There, he plays a noteworthy role in extracting Sun Quan from danger.[5] He gets to have a significant moment of glory in the subsequent battle at Ruxu, where he leads a daring strike against Li Dian. Although initially successful he is soon surrounded and in danger of being killed. Fortunately, he is rescued by Zhou Tai and both emerge heavily wounded.[6]

Following this, Xu Sheng has a consistent presence in Sun Quan’s campaigns against Liu Bei. He plays a small role in Lü Meng’s operations against Guan Yu, where he is once again working with Ding Feng.[7] They serve as Lu Xun’s guards during the operations in Yidu. In one incident they are taunted by Wu Ban and want to fight him, but Lu Xun correctly predicts it is a trap and restrains them so they do not fall into an ambush.[8]

Xu Sheng’s biggest moment of glory comes in chapter 86, which is inspired by Cao Pi’s Guangling Expeditions. When word reaches Sun Quan that Cao Pi is invading in the east with a large army, Xu Sheng volunteers to meet them.[9] In an earlier chapter, he objects to Sun Quan accepting a title from Cao Pi, considering it a shameful humiliation.[10]

Xu Sheng immediately begins preparing to meet Cao Pi’s army but has some trouble with his subordinate Sun Shao. The latter objects to Xu Sheng’s decision to take a defensive position, to the point where Xu Sheng orders his execution. Sun Quan soon arrives and rescinds the order. Instead of apologizing for his disobedience, though, Sun Shao crosses the river to fight Cao Pi, completely disobeying all instructions. Xu Sheng is aware that Sun Quan has a fondness for Sun Shao, so he sends Ding Feng to rescue him.[11]

Once Cao Pi’s army arrives, Xu Sheng erects false walls in the night, manned by scarecrows. In the morning, Cao Pi thinks that Xu Sheng raised an entire fortress in one night and decides to retreat. During the retreat, he is ambushed first by Sun Shao and then by Ding Feng, as Xu Sheng planned. Cao Pi narrowly escapes but Zhang Liao is wounded by Ding Feng and dies shortly after.[12]

Xu Sheng gets one last bit of glory during the battle at Shi’ting, where Lu Xun has him lead the vanguard. He defeats Cao Xiu’s general Zhang Pu and almost captures Cao Xiu before being fended off by Jia Kui’s army.[13] His death is not mentioned in the novel, but that goes for most people.

On the whole, Xu Sheng is depicted as a relatively powerful warrior, though not quite on the same level as men like Zhao Yun or Cao Ren. His bravery is beyond criticism, though, and he’s also rather clever. Zhou Yu, Lü Meng, and Lu Xun all entrust him with vital tasks and he usually pulls them off. He is nearly always found with Ding Feng.

It’s that last part that strikes me as the strangest thing about the fictionalized Xu Sheng. I can find nothing to suggest that they shared any particular closeness. The two were not related, by blood or marriage, nor were they from the same homeland. While there are points where their careers overlapped, the same can be said for dozens of Sun Quan’s prominent officers. Linking the two of them together is kind of a random choice. It seems to come out of nowhere.

Honestly, though, I think that might be a good angle to lean into. Ding Feng doesn’t have too many other people in the Wu cast to really interact with so playing up a friendship between him and Xu Sheng might give them both a more emotional connection to the narrative.

The fictionalization of Xu Sheng’s life does hit most of the key points, though there are a few interesting bits that I think get lost in the background.

Originally from Langye in Xu province, he fled to Wu when everything fell apart in the north. There, he became known for his personal valor. Sometime after 200, Sun Quan gave Xu Sheng independent command over a small force and tasked him with protecting Chaisang from Huang Zu. During this time, he distinguished himself by defeating Huang Zu’s son Huang She in a battle at Chaisang despite being badly outnumbered. He was promoted to a colonel and rounded out his early career by suppressing some mountain bandits in Lincheng. After this he became one of Sun Quan’s personal generals, with some supervisory duties.[14]

For the next several years, Xu Sheng was highly active in the campaigns conducted between the Huai and Jiang rivers. In 213 he helped defend Ruxu from Cao Cao and remained with the garrison there. Xu Sheng was badly wounded in the fighting at Hefei and even lost his favorite spear (though it was later returned to him by He Qi). In 217 he was at Ruxu again. A storm found him stranded on the enemy side of the river, and Xu Sheng boldly led a sortie from the ships to protect them until the wind died down and allowed him to return to friendly shores.[15] This last incident appears to be the source of his heroics against Li Dian during the same battle in the Yanyi.[16]

As in the novel he did fight in the defense against Liu Bei in Yidu. In that chapter, as noted earlier, he is taunted by Wu Ban and almost falls into an ambush, though Lu Xun restrains him.[17] This is actually very close to the truth. Wu Ban did attempt to draw Wu officers into an ambush during the fighting at Yiling but Lu Xun restrained his men. Xu Sheng is not specifically mentioned but the dissatisfaction was widespread and it’s a fair bet that he was one of those who wanted to be more aggressive. Time, of course, proved Lu Xun’s caution wise.[18] Xu Sheng did, however, earn appreciable merit in the decisive battle that forced Liu Bei’s retreat.[19]

After Cao Pi took the throne, he sent an envoy to make Sun Quan King of Wu. Xu Sheng was outraged at seeing Sun Quan be given this title as though he were a mere underling and made a great show of his displeasure. The Wei envoy noted that with men like Xu Sheng, Wu would not remain subservient for long.[20] This is a scene that is repeated almost exactly in the Romance.[21] True to this prediction, Sun Quan soon revolted against Cao Pi and the two went to war. During the subsequent Great River Campaign (222–223), Xu Sheng gave distinguished service defending Dongpu from Cao Xiu. During this campaign he was shipwrecked by a storm for the second time, making him a man with remarkably bad luck.[22]

Xu Sheng is most famous for his exploits during Cao Pi’s Guangling Expeditions (224–225), and for good reason. The Yanyigives an exaggerated account of this (as it is wont to do) but it’s easy to recognize the truthful foundation upon which the fictionalization is based.

Cao Pi’s attack from Guangling in 224 was unexpected, since it was very difficult to cross the river there, as subsequent events proved. Sun Quan’s defenses were thus weak in the area. Although he was able to quickly assemble a fleet to intercept Cao Pi, the land-based defenses were still soft. Xu Sheng came up with the plan to erect false walls to make the defenses look stronger and deter an assault. His plan did fool Cao Pi’s scouts. Finding the defenses stronger than anticipated, Cao Pi withdrew.[23]

The Yanyi also adds in the story of the disobedient Sun Shao and his ambushing Cao Pi in retreat. The novel depicts Sun Shao as valiant but impetuous and young. In reality, Sun Shao was almost 40 years old at the time of the Guangling expeditions and had been defending the region south of Guangling for almost 20 years.[24]

During Cao Pi’s return in 225, Sun Shao dispatched a raiding party against Cao Pi’s headquarters under one Gao Shou. They were able to capture some of Cao Pi’s imperial regalia, which was a great humiliation to the Wei army.[25] There is, however, no indication that he was acting against orders, had conflict with Xu Sheng, or that the raid resulted in the heavy casualties mentioned in the novel. There is also no mention of Ding Feng.

Xu Sheng passed away sometime between 224 and 228, slightly before his disappearance form the novel.[26]

On the whole it’s a solid career. He gave distinguished service in most of the key battles during his lifetime. He was a skilled fighter with impressive bravery, and he has no record of any untoward personal conduct. While perhaps not Wu’s most dynamic commander, there’s nothing in his history anyone could fault him for.

It is hard to get a sense of who Xu Sheng was from his biography, though. Aside from listing his battles and achievements there isn’t much known. There aren’t any little anecdotes from his personal life or comments on his personality. I guess I can’t fault DW9 too badly, then. Even if they were looking at the same things I am, there isn’t much to be found.

Still, there are a couple threads I’d be interested to see future incarnations of Xu Sheng pull on. The fact that he was so unlucky as to be shipwrecked twice seems like something a writer could lean into. And while his friendship with Ding Feng and function as a guard for important commanders are both fictional aspects of Xu Sheng’s life, that’s no problem for Dynasty Warriors and they would serve well to give him a firmer place in the overall Wu army. It’s some food for thought anyway.

In a lot of ways, you could say Xu Sheng is the perfect example of the typical military officer. He fought frequently and fought well, displaying both courage and cunning. While not dazzling like some of his contemporaries, it’s hard to find someone more reliable. Men such as him are the foundation of any successful state.

Endnotes

SGYY 38

SGYY 49

SGYY 51

SGYY 55–56

SGYY 67

SGYY 68

SGYY 75–76

SGYY 83–84

SGYY 86

SGYY 82

SGYY 86

SGYY 86

SGYY 96

SGZ 55.10

For more on these incidents, see https://classicalamateur.wordpress.com/2020/10/31/the-huai-jiang-campaigns/

As seen in SGYY 68

SGYY 84

SGZ 58.1

SGZ 55.10

SGZ 55.10

SGYY 82

See https://classicalamateur.wordpress.com/2020/07/17/riverine-warfare-in-the-three-kingdoms/ for an account of this portion of the campaign.

SGZ 55.10; see also https://classicalamateur.wordpress.com/2019/04/27/the-guangling-expeditions/

SGZ 51.9

Wu Lu, SGZ 47

SGZ 55.10

[laffy-taffy-creations]

DAY SIX PEOPLES!!!!!!!!!

This fic was cross-posted on AO3 here

Family Forged in Fire

Recording | Made to Watch | "It should've been me"

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Words: 1,163

Warnings: house fire, PTSD, childhood trauma, character death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing I saw was smoke. The room got all hazy. It looked like dark fog. And the smell was bad.

Something’s wrong, this isn’t normal.

I went down stairs. “Mommy! Daddy! Something’s wrong with the air!”

But the downstairs was worse. I looked for one of them, either of them, but all I found was…

No…

“MAMA!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. She was on the floor, still, not moving. Her face was wrong. It wasn’t her. “Mama! Mama wake up! MAMA! PAPA SOMETHING’S WRONG WITH MOMMY!”

I heard something behind me. I looked over. Whatever was wrong with mommy is wrong with daddy too. I crawled over to him. “Papa? PAPA! WHY AREN’T EITHER OF YOU ANSWERING?!”

I started crying. Mommy told me the best thing for me to do when I was hurting, on the inside or out, was cry and it’d feel better. But it didnt stop hurting. Nothing stopped hurting.

The air started getting hot. I saw something orange starting to spread from the kitchen to where I was. A big man dressed in primary colors walked up to me and picked me up. “Your parents aren’t coming back kid. I’m sorry. Let’s get you out of here.”

I knew his voice. I cried even harder. This is the man that mama and papa were shouting at earlier. What happened to them was caused by him.

I punched him in his chest. “YOU DID THIS! YOU’RE THE REASON MOMMY WONT WAKE UP AND WHY DADDY LOOKS ALL WRONG!” I shrieked.

He held me around the chest tighter, my breathing got more difficult. “Shut up kid, you’re gonna act like nothing happened, am I clear? I’m saving you from a housefire. I did not kill your parents, they burned to death. I didn’t start the fire, it came from burning food. Now be quiet or I’ll throw you in the flames too.”

I cried and cired. It was all I could do.

He killed them. I dont want to die. I dont wanna die I dont wanna die I dont wanna die-

----《 ¤ 》----

“Hey nii-san.”

“Hey. Whatcha watching?” I asked as I walked down the stairs to get a snack.

“News.”

I actually need to catch up on the news. “You mind if I join you?”

“Do whatever you want. There’s nothing about him so I think we’ll be fine.”

I got myself some strawberries and sat down next to the figuratively and literally explosive blonde that was my brother.

My phone buzzed with a message and I opened it up while I listened to the newscaster in the background.

Charging Port: [Hey, watcha doin?]

Me: [Hanging out with my brother]

Charging Port: [...you mean your adoptive brother?]

Me: [Details, details…]

Me: [Also yes literally who else would I be talking about]

Charging Port: [I’m just making sure]

Me: [What do you think I have a secret brother that survived the fire and has been living in Japan, completely unknown for 13 years?]

Charging Port: [lol]

Me: [Anyways, what did you need?]

Charging Port: [uhhhh dont watch the news]

Charging Port: [especially not FNN]

“...hey Kat, what channel is this?”

“Fuji? Why?”

“Okay good, Kaminari said I needed to stay away from this channel right now. Our TV has what, a 1 minute delay compared to his on this channel?”

He smirked. “Well, let’s see what he didnt want you to see.”

The scene changed. A fire. A house fire.

I only saw it for a few seconds before I was four again, unable to wake up my parents, not knowing what was going on, the only thing I was sure of being the hero that ‘saved me’ killing them and covering it up with a fire.

They shouldn’t have died, it should’ve been me, they shouldn’t have died, it should’ve been me, they shouldn’t-

“CLO!” nii-san was shaking me now.

“Wha- huh?”

“...Pikachu was right, we shouldn’t have watched the news, holy fuck thank the gods you’re normal again.”

I looked back to the screen. That fire was at Mina’s house.

“<...we dont believe anybody is in the house, but this can be used as a good example of…>”

Mina said she was home alone tonight and wouldn’t be leaving the house.

Both my body and my brain suddenly kicked it into high gear and I dashed back up to my room, changing as quickly as I could into my fireproof suit. C’mon, c’mon, there isn’t much time…

I put on a jacket and put one of my high-grade filter mechanical filter masks in the pocket.

I grabbed a second one for me and went back downstairs, going to the bathroom and rummaging through some of Mom’s things for a hair tie and bobby pins, putting my long hair up into a messy bun so none of it would catch fire.

I put on my mask and travelled through the shadows right outside the house. I could feel my phone buzzing relentlessly in my pocket but I didnt care.

I drew the Ancient Geldyrn symbol for goodluck on my chest and kicked in the backdoor.

Where are you.

I ran up the stairs to her room and pounded on it. “MINA! MINA CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?!” The door was locked from inside.

Please answer please answer please answer…

“MINA???”

Nothing. I took a step back and slammed my body against the door, enough to break the latch.

I saw her passed out on the floor. I kneeled down and pput my filter mask on her as quick as I could. You’re gonna survive, You will survive, I will not let you die.

I secured it around her head, grabbed her phone and threw her over my shoulder before running downstairs, through the livingroom-

Dont think about it, dont think about it.

As soon as we were out I was able to find a substantial enough shadow to travel back through and I dropped her on the couch before letting out a sigh of exhaustion.

“Good gods Clo, you need to not do that,”

“Do what?” I asked, sprawling myself out on the floor.

“Suddenly running around and fucking teleporting to her! All I saw was you rushing around like a madman then a slight figure in the background of the broadcast! You could’ve atleast given me a warning.”

“Too little time, my rushing around was your warning.”

“You could’ve called the pros or something! Or I dont know, at least shown yourself a bit more to the news so they knew they were wrong???”

I looked at my brother and smiled slyly. “You know damn well why I dont trust either of them.”

He facepalmed.

Izuku had appeared in the time I was gone apparently. “Why dont you trust them?”

Both me and Kat said in unison, “We dont talk to cops here.”

I laughed while he groaned. He knew what was coming.

“Oh boy, do I have a lot to fill you in on~”

[jonthegiraffe]

Virtual Sketchbook 2 assignment

1.

Unity- Unity is to have identical shared traits with a thing. For example, in my room, my wall is a warm color throughout but that's it. There are not two colors but one.

Variety- It is to have different traits from other things. For example, in a dirty laundry bin, there will be a variety of different types of apparel like pants, socks, and shirts. Each of them also has a variety of colors and patterns on them.

Balance- It can be achieved through symmetry or asymmetry according to the book though personally, I find it to be more synonymous with symmetry rather than asymmetry. For something to be symmetrical, it must have matching sides. For example, A classical guitar has matching sides. Asymmetry is unequal sides or forms. An example of this could be the painting, The Great Wave of Kanagawa.

Emphasis and subordination- Emphasis refers to a focal point. It is something that draws your attention. For example, if you are looking at a portrait, usually the face is the focal point. Subordination is the act of categorizing less interesting areas of the painting. In The Last Supper, the background is of lesser importance than the main figures

Directional force- It is the paths of the art piece that direct your eye to certain parts of the painting.  In a real-life example, you might look at the end of a long street. The directional force is going to go through the end of the road.

Repetition- is a set frequency of visual elements in a painting. An example of this could be identical houses in a neighborhood

Rhythm: A way to create repetition is rhythm and to have repeated variations of things and also the visual flow of an art piece like The Starry Night by Van Gogh.

Scale- the size of a thing compared to another thing. For example, the size of myself compared to a kitten.

Proportion- The size of any of parts to a whole. For example, the size of a person's eyes compared to their face.

The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo Buonarroti on 3.8 in the book

2.

Focal point: The focal point is the space between the space of Gods and Adams forefingers.

Implied lines: The arms of Gods and Adams.

Color contrast: The body of God including the red cloth that's around Him and the  body of Adam including the green grass that he sits on are all warm colors which are contrasting the cool colors in the background.

3.

The last question is a tough one. I think The colors I would have are definitely green and orange. Green to me represents life and health and orange represents happiness. I think I would also add red because I am at that part of my life where there is definitely more stress than usual.

4. Spoilers for The Dark Tower by Stephen King

This is a painting I made with gouache. Now I know I said spoilers but Roland reaching the dark tower is the whole premise of the book series. Of course, he was going to make it. I am really passionate about stories and the characters. Roland showed bravery, resilience, and stoicism but also had some fun during his journey however slight it might have been. The best way to describe the story in a few words would be an interdimensional cowboy odyssey. I also found it to be heartwarming how he paid respect to all the people who helped and it definitely gave me goosebumps and put a huge smile on my face due to the power of the words. He also has the kindness to help other people.

This is another painting I made for the assignment

This is Ellie Williams from the Last of Us video game series. I know technically I did not have to put another painting but I just wanted to talk about it. Ellie shows also a lot of resilience in the games like Roland though she does end up with PTSD but still finds the strength to keep finding the strength to locate the source of her pain.

5.

List of logos around my room

Swiss army knife logo

Playstations logo

Alisa Chung/squid art logo

Switch logo

Apple logo

Lego logo

Logitech logo

Steam logo

I know about these logos because they have been around me for all or at least a large portion of my life. It also has to do with the fact that some of these logos are related to my hobbies which is also why I am familiar with them like PlayStation. How do I understand the value of these logos? It is from the viewpoint of the customer that the value is most prominent. A good logo can differentiate you in a marketplace like a mall. For example, Apple has a simple yet effective logo because of the status of the brand of technology they have.

The reply I made to another student. Note: I made the reply to a student in another group because I was the first person in my group to make a post on the night the assignment was due so I just replied to a student in another group because I had other homework to do and forgot about it.

Reply:

Hello Aiden. I noticed you added an interactive logo whereas I only discussed business or studio logos which I thought was very interesting for you to do. I have not ever used Spotify but I mostly have used YouTube for music because it is free but not free if you're out of the house using up data. YouTube is the logo I am most familiar with though I noticed over long periods, the logos changed. For example. The YouTube logo used to be a Television for the app.

[hartshorn-and-isinglass]

Yeah Yeah, The Limerence, We've All Seen It.

Soooo... I've been loopy enough this week to almost break my own rules about "don't post anything about the Muse that's both weird and obviously identifiable" and that feels like a sign to maybe examine what's going on.

(Extensive, eye-wateringly boring feels under the cut.)

I've been sick, and apparently my inner adolescent has been louder than usual. When I was actually a teenager, being sick enough to stay home was always a mixed bag because on the one hand, given that I was on track for burnout by that point in my life, I desperately needed the rest. But on the other hand... Lowell. Enjoy catching up on lecture notes and homework if you miss more than one day in a row. Things are probably more seamless now with the internet fully integrated into people's lives. But back in my day- (yeah okay I'm cutting myself off here, that's not the point of this entry)

The point here is that being sick with a bunch of projects weighing on my mind has probably brought me back to that same headspace I was in during high school. Annnd what did I do to self-soothe when I was in high school? Obsess over my first Muse, of course. I was not exactly discreet about that one; in fact I was pretty embarrassingly fucking loud about it in a way that I was not for pretty much anything else in my life. I am very lucky it only came off as "cute/funny" rather than "yikes/we need to stage an intervention".

And here we are again. Stressed and sick, a little loopy, and wanting to wear my heart on my sleeve like a highschooler.

Ahhhh, limerence. Where would the world of art and music be without you? I mean, what else are you really gonna do with those feelings anyway. May as well sublimate them into creative output. Dante's Beatrice comes to mind, or Shakespeare's Fair Youth. I also think about Berlioz being instantly, absolutely bonkers obsessed with Harriet Smithson... until he later discards her for someone younger and sends her on a downward spiral that ruins her mental and physical health. Acting on these feelings doesn't always go well in real life. I'm well aware.

I've noticed that a lot of self-help material these days models limerence as an "addiction", and recommends going cold-turkey on the person in question to get over it as soon as possible. And look, I'm not going to claim that this shit is totally healthy; I think it's telling that a lot of us who have c-PTSD find ourselves dealing with limerence more often than the rest of the general population. But at the same time calling it an "addiction" (especially with all the moral baggage that comes with that word) feels... off.

Would that make me a "functional addict"? I don't feel like that's the right description for my situation. It's not like being in limerence is holding me back from my full potential right now--quite the opposite. I'm finding my way again after years of feeling lost, thanks at least in part to the Muse. I still have some hangups about the whole "am I doing this for them or am I doing it for me" thing, but I'm hoping that if I can keep this going long enough I can find a way to truly believe in myself as a creative being. And weirdly enough this whole thing has been helping me articulate some stuff about my gender identity. Also it's kind of... led to me having a better body-image? I dunno if it was just some background-level dysphoria that got resolved when I figured some things out about my gender, or what. But it's difficult to look at this whole experience and be like, "yeah, I should definitely stop thinking about them and go do something else with my life". Is that even possible at this point?

Also I don't completely jibe with this whole "you don't actually want to know what your limerent object is really like, you'll be in denial about them as a person even if you try to get to know them" idea because I feel like that's not true in this case. (It was true for the Muses I had when I was especially vulnerable, but it's not been true for all of them.) I would dearly love to meet this Muse in real life, to get to know the person whose artistic output inspired me so. Even if it meant confronting a contradiction between the real flesh-and-blood person and the image I've built up in my head. But I also realize the chances of that ever happening are... slim. I'm strange and off-putting and I come from a very different world than the one they inhabit. I am aware that I'm not everyone's favorite flavor.

Admittedly though... the whole "they'll probably be mildly repulsed by me and my depraved ways" thing has also been fodder for my fantasies. I have a bit of a corruption kink and they seem so adorably wholesome in a way that makes the blood pulse a little harder behind my canines, LOL. So I can't say with complete confidence that I'm being "realistic" about what I'd come off to them as--I might still be feeding a very specific fantasy dynamic in my head.

Over-analyzing this shit is also pretty emblematic of limerence. Ha!

I also have to wonder how much of the over-dramatic-ness of these limerent crushes is due to being aspec. Once puberty was over, I gradually stopped finding people attractive on sight and settled into being mostly demisexual. That's my primary model for how relationships and dating work for me; I have to get to know someone a little bit in order to figure out if there's going to be chemistry at all.

But the Muses do not fit this model. Aside from meeting one of my Muses by talking online, the rest of them blindsided me with feelings of immediate attraction. It's just so far outside my normal wheelhouse I hardly know what to do with myself. But also... it's hard not to ascribe some kind of significance to it, to find something special in experiencing this facet of the human condition. You feel so alive and the world seems to vibrate with possibility. Even the pain that comes with limerent desire still feeds the fire of my soul in a way that few other things do.

I believe the real peril is in deciding what to do with those feelings. Maybe don't get up from the audience in the middle of a play and yell at your limerent object onstage that you're gonna marry her (*glares at Berlioz*). I think the most ridiculous shit I've done while in limerence with someone has come about because I was incredibly vulnerable and had no room to spare emotionally to step back for a reality check. I'm hoping that I have the wherewithal this time around to keep myself from being stupid... mostly.

But that's why I have such a wide anonymity moat around my brainrot. I don't want a chance search leading to the Muse wondering for the rest of their career who in their audience wants to drink their blood sdfghjksdfghjks. I just need to make sure I stick with this even if I'm brain-fogged or hopped up on Benadryl.

[makingthistoventsorry]

*TW: s/a, child abuse, addiction, eating disorders, death, suicide*

For quite some time now, I’ve been debating if writing this will benefit me in some way. I feel as if I have no one to turn to, I don’t see my family much. My only friend is a mother who is always busy. I always feel guilty venting about the struggles in my life to her, because we are living two totally different lifestyles. Everything is just weighing on me, I’m used to it, but I’m really tired. This is going to be long, so if you’re not dedicated to the read, it’s not for you.

I’ll start off by explaining my background and personality a bit. I was born into poverty. My birth mother was 17, and my father was a war veteran almost in his 40’s. He was a family friend while she was a young child. She was groomed emotionally over that time, until it evolved further sexually. He had a wife. All that should explain a lot in itself. He divorced her and married my mother. When I was three he died. My birth mother became very abusive and neglected me in every sense. Her substance abuse boomed out of nowhere, so I was often in drug houses, or brought to the darker parts of the city. There were many times things got violent, and I had to stand there watching her get beaten or jumped. Other times she would leave me alone at houses, or forget me places.

Sometimes she would drop me off with my aunts and grandmother. I would be there for a few months while she had fun without me. When she was ready she’d show up randomly and drag me back, police with her in support. My family would always cry, not knowing if they would see me again after we disappeared.

As I was growing up she would always expose me to evil men, you can guess. She would even preform ‘acts’ with them in front of me, or on the floor beside my bed. My mind has been a catalog of dark memories my whole life. My first memory was my father’s funeral. I have never had a childhood, and I desperately crave a natural ecstasy. It’s strange, but I’ve felt like the same person my whole life, I was matured too early, so my adult life has felt stagnant. By the time I was in kindergarten I had saved her from OD’ing multiple times. I had moved 20+ places by this point, never anywhere for long. She would hide me from the rest of my family, staying with random men or other drug addicts. I constantly smelling like cigarettes, and would have makeup put on me often along with her straightening and dying my hair.

I was a quiet child who was not to speak unless spoken to. I fed myself when there was food. After I started elementary school, I would read a lot. My grades were advanced and lots of teachers took interest in my abilities. I didn’t get too close to them, I kept my distance as to not expose my home life.

I suffered this life on repeat until I was 10 years old, then my brother was born. I knew immediately I couldn’t let him live the same life. A new instinct to escape was planted into my mind. I was terrified to betray my birth mother, I can still feel my heart pound thinking and typing about it. It’s a reflex. After seeing her use knives, knowing she had used firearms, I knew I could be facing something horrific. I will never forget the look on her face when CPS got involved. I spent some time in foster care. Back then they made me tell them everything right in front of my mother, after they left you can imagine how she treated me. After a long battle we were placed with a relative who we still consider our mother to this day. I often think the one good thing that has come out of my life was my fierce drive to protect my brother.

I was diagnosed with severe ptsd, social anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and an eating disorder before middle school, but I suffered from it years before.

Sadly, I still ended up getting sexually abused by a trusted man, almost as soon as I was taken in permanently. It went on for two years before I broke down and told out of guilt. I feared being thrown back into foster care, or that my family wouldn’t love me anymore after they fought so hard to get me. He was kicked out and I never saw him again, still to this day. It was very unfamiliar, being protected, and even tho it was almost decades ago, it still leaves a strange feeling in my chest. Sadly I still haven’t figured out what that is. I feel disconnected and unable to have that ‘shock’ or ‘wow’ factor of happiness, it always been like that. I’ve never felt the relief.

When I became a teenager, I started really thinking about everything that I was subjected to. Mad was an understatement. My brain has always resorted to numbing itself, as a way to protect me. All of that was busted wide open for quite a long time. Anyone who hurt me or others, I resorted to violence for the first time. Seeing other people experience the pain I held, just reminded me of how disposable I always felt. It angered me to an unexplainable degree. Maybe I became violent because I couldn’t face them with words at that time.

I started experimenting with sex as a teenager because it was the only way I felt I was wanted. By the time I was 16, I had consensually had sex with almost 20 people. Some my age, some way older. As an adult, I now know the older men that slept with me then, were completely in the wrong. I was the perfect victim, I was willing even. I was an abused kid who was desensitized to what is acceptable or not.

After graduating high school I was urged to go to college. My grades were in the top percentile of my school still. I knew my adoptive family wanted the best for me, and I had a partial grant from my father’s death. I compromised on a year, to try it. Going to college I quickly became addicted to alcohol, I discovered it numbed me even further. I could tolerate being around people, and I even started being social of my own volition. I started throwing parties every week in my apartment, sometimes multiple times a week. Locally there was no hiding who I saw, and I latched on to it. But, I would close my eyes and suddenly I was back to my childhood. However instead of my birth mom, it was me putting myself under the influence to survive my own life. After a year the rug was pulled under me, I told my family I couldn’t do it anymore.

I started selling pictures and videos of myself when I was 19, and kept drinking heavily. I despised my birth mom my whole life for slipping to addiction and making my life hell, but soon I was on the same path. I started abusing harder powders and other substances, until I had a heart attack when I was 21. I started smoking weed and stopped attending parties/raves/festivals. My ‘friends’ still begged me to come and would offer me drugs. I kept my silence, deep into the self hatred and hypocrisy I was feeling. I sobered up and used weed as a coping tool. Everything had seemed to come full circle, and I just felt the world lived to mock me. ‘Hahaha look at you! In your mothers shoes!’.

I found myself sitting in my apartment for months on end, I would stay awake for days, just taking videos and pictures of myself to sell. Video chats, phone calls, kinkwork that I didn’t particularly enjoy. I kept it a secret from my family. I became addicted to the money, it seemed insane that I could see hundreds hit my bank account in one day. I spent more of it on clothes and weed to make myself feel better. Another escapism. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

During this time I distanced myself from them, they still tried but also understood my silence. I wish I wouldn’t have worried them so much, now that I’m older. I started getting more into my art, I had always drawn, but I started to paint. A decent amount of people were interested. Not sure if it’s because my art was good, or I was known for being a sex worker and they just wanted on my good side. Probably a mix of both.

I met a guy and we started seriously dating, everything was ‘fine’ for the first 6 months or so. We started recording and selling content together. After a year he started to become physically abusive, and would manipulate me. Cheat on me. Whatever else he wanted. He moved in with me not long into us dating, and I supported us both by selling the content that whole time while he sold weed here and there. I bought him whatever he wanted, I thought he loved me.

Eventually he started getting jealous and feeling inferior, alot of issues stemmed from me selling content. I shared my phone with him, he didn’t let me spend one day alone with my singular friend or family. I felt like a prisoner. I felt myself revert to my child self, silent. After so many months of me being mentally checked out, he went off the deep end and held me hostage with a gun. I can’t forget the look in his eyes. He smashed my phone, held the gun to us both at points, and counted down from 5, for two hours. Watching me flinch each time not knowing if either of us were going to be shot if he pulled the trigger. After so long my survival instincts kicked in, I saw he was in the height of his episode and was talking to himself, so I ran out of my house barefoot. Maybe around 2 am. I don’t drive, and there’s a hospital maybe a 5 minute walk from my house. He grabbed the gun and chased me on foot, trying to drag me back by my clothes. I pushed him off of me and he tried to just be done with me by throwing me into incoming traffic. I pulled myself out of the road and kept running. I neared the hospital so he threw the gun into a ditch and ran after me inside. It took 4 officers to restrain him, and we went to court the next day for an emergency restraining order. He was in jail for only three months.

The three years that followed, I didn’t date, talk to men, leave my house, or socialize much at all. Not that I even did before. My paranoia grew, I suffered the most from my schizophrenia at that time. I through myself into making content even harder. The restraining order was for two years, shortly after it was up I found him stalking my social media.

The years I was alone, I had nightmares of him almost every single day. I couldn’t sleep, eat, or do anything without feeling that moment. I realized maybe I did want to live, and that’s why I felt I was suffering so much. I started getting more into my art and sold a decent amount alongside my content. I was known as a local adult model, and accumulated maybe 10k followers on the internet at this point. No one knew how much I suffered since I’ve always been a private person.

I’m still alone now. Still making content. It’s been around 6-7 years since I started. I feel trapped. Unable to function in society under a different job. Every day is so mentally exhausting. My existence feels meaningless. I kept doing kink requests, but after making a video where I was payed to insert a knife into myself, I completely broke. I started domme work, I was tired of acting submissive to my customers. I make less money now, but enough to survive. Every couple of months I cry and agonize to myself, will I ever be more? I wish I could depend on my art, but it takes too much emotional effort to make it to the standards it used to be. It just reminds me of all the darkness. That sounds very cringe I know, but I’ve lived in it so long that I try to zone out of the awareness I have. I had one retail job and didn’t last for more than a couple of weeks before my social phobia and schizophrenia made it unbearable to the point of wanting to off myself.

I suffered the death of one of the only people who has ever believed in me last year. I rescued a dog shortly after, and she’s been the only source of happiness in my life. I couldn’t imagine myself leaving her alone in this filthy world.

I feel like I was destined to make men cum, and to shoulder it. I was groomed into that thought very early. I know I’m an adult that makes my own decisions, but the hatred for my birth mom flows through my whole body when I think of what my life could have been. Who would I be? Was I doomed from the start? I know people say, it can’t always be like this, but for some unfortunate people, it is. To some people, this is all we can ever be. This is all I can ever ‘achieve’. Happiness and peace, a moderately happy life, can’t be for everyone. Or else there wouldn’t be so much ugly in this world.

Lately I haven’t wanted to off myself, or live, I’m stuck in an in-between state of just existing. I hope one day I can accept my life for what it is, or that eventually I’ll crawl out of this deep fucking hole. I haven’t lost hope completely, or else I wouldn’t be sharing this. Being the first time I’ve written something this long about my life, I feel a bit of weight off of me.

If you ever feel alone, it’s okay, just don’t give up. You don’t have to feel alive, you don’t even have to fake smile. Just keep breathing, that’s been my mantra. As long as I still breathe, the people who abused me don’t win. As long as I breathe, there’s still a fighting chance.

[alyona11]

Ok, now let me nerd about some of ideas I had while imagining this scene.

First, I honestly wanna sing praises to whoever does sound design for the audios! Their job probably goes unnoticed a lot but it definately played a huge part of how I imagined the scene, spacing and even frame composition. I think for the beginning I wanted it all to feel safe. Like yeah, the device isn't there but everything is under control :) no need to worry, Narvin and Leela are there to figure everything out and provide another way, but that safety should have disappeared once the MT device comes to play. I really really love how the voice acting and background sounds feed the feeling of anxiety and shock. In particular, the moment when Narvin promises to help but it's completely obvious he has no idea what to do. The sound of the MT sounds both like a heartbeat and train track until it disappears completely. It reminded me a scene from HBO's The Last of Us where Joel kills a soldier after having a ptsd flashback about the biggest tragedy of his life.

I also wanted to play on how opposite are Narvin and Leela's reactions to death. Obviously, they both seen enough of it, but it seems to me that sadly Leela is more used to losing people she cares about. I don't think we have ever seen Narvin losing a friend. Like in terms of losing a friend for good without any hope of saving them. Of course he have seen people die a lot during Time War but these weren't people who were close to him. Which makes me think about how Time Lords are probably not used to seeing other Time Lords just...die suddenly. So I wanted him to be shocked, confused and not fully believing it actually happened, while Leela understands the situation instantly and tries to "wake him up" from the stun mode. She is very much the anchor of that scene. For the fight scene I was coming mostly from the sound. It didn't seem like a fist fight, plus I do think fist fight would have been really bad in that situation? It's too active and too aggressive. You probably wouldn't stop your grieving friend from making reckless things by punching them in the face xD That's just cruel, not a friend-like. So I thought about Leela restraining Narvin and not letting him go further, pushing him away from the door. Again, neither Leela or Narvin want to hurt each other. So for Narvin I didn't do any pushes or punches and stuff like that, I just can't imagine that. He's just going forward and doesn't care about any resistance. Plus Leela restraining him looked like a hug xD My big inspo for the hug as an attempt to stop Narvin was don't hate me the scene of Sirius' death in Order of the Phoenix, maybe because it was such an honestly acted scene of realisation of loss and instant switch into a full revenge mode. I just constantly remember it as the most traumatic media moment of my childhood xD The final knockdown is again just the last resort, it didn't seem like a punch but more of Narvin either being hit with something heavy or just bumping his head into a wall/console. First, I thought Leela could have hit him with fake MT device, but then I thought that logistic wise it would have been hard to pull. Plus it seems like in terms of sound they are pretty close to each other, so I thought I'd rather have Leela pin Narvin to a wall (which can be a reference to that one line in TW1) and then kinda pushing him a bit too hard so he knocks his head. And I thought him falling to her arms would play well with "I'm trying to protect you, I cannot lose you" line beautifylly delivered by Louise Jameson ;)

It's out! Beware of the spoilers for War Room 2 Transference! This project took me about a week and 120 drawings to complete. After I collected the drawings together I kinda figured out there were things that I could have done differently but I really love this draft. Super proud of finishing it. Animatics are always very exhausting to make because you need to think about so many things at once and you have to relisten to the material to see the image in your head and then decently transfer it into an image. It's also trickier when it isn't a music video but the characters just having a conversation. But surprisingly it wasn't a huge problem with this scene in particular because it was written and acted so dynamically. I think War Room 2 turned out a very solid boxset and switched my brain into "thinking about Gallifrey" mode! Big cheers to @fiotrethewey for writing this scene and supporting this project in progress. Cheers to Sean Carlsen for playing this scene so heart wrechingly! Under the cut I'll post the storyboards with some notes:

[lauramkaye]

Disco Elysium For Beginners

So apparently my cunning plan is working and some of my mutuals are interested in learning more about my recent obsession by playing the game Disco Elysium. Great!!! In your honor, and so that I will have more people to talk about the game with, I present to you Laura's Beginner's Guide to Playing Disco Elysium.

What Is It Even About?

Hope, despair, poverty, the human condition, politics, pinball, art, love, loss, communism, experiencing a bisexual awakening in your forties, colonization, dancing, substance use disorders, unions, mental illness, truth, trying to be a good person in a completely broken society, beauty, the end of the world, joy, complicated relationships, kindness, intersectionality, the complex and problematic nature of the profession of police detective, cryptids, juvenile delinquents, PTSD, and falling helplessly in love with Kim Kitsuragi.

Oh wait, did you mean the plot?

You play as an amnesiac detective who wakes up after an apocalyptic bender that obliterated his memories. There is a dead body hanging in a tree behind your hotel, and you are there to find out who killed him with the help of Kim Kitsuragi, a detective from another precinct who has also been put on the case and who will be your partner while you are in town. You can, as the official site puts it, "become a hero, or an absolute disaster of a human being."

Where to Get It

Disco Elysium is available for Mac and PC via Steam and for XBox and Playstation (both current and previous generation) and Nintendo Switch. The current version is "The Final Cut" which includes full voice acting. The Steam version goes on sale pretty frequently - I'd keep an eye on Black Friday/Cyber Monday sales if you're interested in picking it up. The MSRP is $40 but you can often find it for around $20 if you look for a sale - the PS4 version is $17 on Amazon right now (11/15/2022).

I'm Not Really A Gamer, Can I Still Play?

Absolutely! DE does not require any "twitchy" gameplay - you interact with the game by reading/listening to text, selecting dialogue options to talk to people, and clicking things/people to interact with them in some way. It runs very much like a tabletop RPG, where all the uncertain things are decided by skill checks and dice rolls.

Notably, DE is quite replayable even though the solution to the mystery doesn't change, because different character builds will have very different experiences and may even see completely different sidequests and dialogue. Unlike most RPGs, DE makes many checks silently, in the background, and if you don't pass the check you just don't see the relevant content and never know you missed anything. I'm on my third full and sixth partial playthrough and I still find new things.

Mechanically, playing Disco Elysium goes something like this:

Go into a new area.

Look around. You will see little colored circles appearing, either on top of items/people in the environment, or sometimes around your player character's head.

Click on the colored circles to interact with them. You will learn something, do something, or start a conversation.

Doing stuff and talking to people gives you XP! Every time you get 100 XP, you get one Skill Point. You can either use it to increase one of your skills, unlock a slot in your Thought Cabinet, or forget a Thought from your Thought Cabinet. You don't have to spend them right away; you can save them up if you want to.

Once you have clicked everything you want to click and talked to everyone you want to talk to for now, go somewhere else.

Repeat.

What the Hell is a Thought Cabinet?

As you go through the game, you will unlock "thoughts" that you can ponder. You have a certain number of slots in your "thought cabinet" where you can be mulling over an idea; you start with three slots and can unlock more up to a max of 12. Thoughts will have certain effects while you are thinking about them, which might be positive or negative. While you are still thinking them over, you can equip or unequip them at will. Each "thought project" takes a specific amount of time.

Once you have spent the designated time on a thought project, you will see the message "Breakthrough Imminent" and then you will "internalize" the thought. The thought will have effects on the gameplay, which can include skill buffs and debuffs or other effects. Once the thought is internalized, you can no longer unequip it. It will take up that slot permanently unless you spend another skill point to forget it.

So what thoughts should I internalize?

A lot of them are mainly for flavor or role-playing but a few notable ones:

Actual Art Degree gives you bonus XP when you pass a passive Conceptualization check. This is the most common passive check in the game, so AAD is the thought to take if you want to get as many skill points as possible. You unlock the thought by talking about art as much as you can.

Get Jamais Vu as early as you can on Day 1 by talking with Joyce Messier at the dock. It opens up some key dialogue options and skill checks as well as giving you bonus XP whenever you click an orb.

Ace's High or Ace's Low gives you extra Empathy bonuses towards Kim. Which you will want, because Kim is the Best.

Wompty-Dompty-Dom Centre is available starting on Day 3 and will give you $2 and some XP when you pass an Encyclopedia check.

Homo-Sexual Underground. Its only effect is to allow you to talk about sexuality with Kim. Therefore it is the most important thought in the game, because approximately 90% of players will be in love with Kim by the second in-game day.

Okay, What About Skills?

Your character "build" (strengths, weaknesses, abilities, etc.) is primarily determined by two things that you can adjust as the game progresses by spending Skill Points: Skills and Thoughts.

Skills in DE are similar to skills in other RPGs in that they determine how good you are at various things. The main difference is that instead of the more traditional skills like strength, dexterity, or charisma, DE has skills like Savoir Faire, Rhetoric, and Empathy. As befits a game that emphasizes the story and characters over combat, the skills are a lot less about how good you are at punching monsters and a lot more about the state of your character's head. The skills are broken down into four categories:

Blue or Intellect skills - brainy stuff like Logic, Rhetoric, and Encyclopedia.

Purple or Psyche skills - emotional stuff like Empathy, Volition, and Authority.

Red or Physical skills - the condition of your physical body. Endurance, Electrochemistry, and Pain Threshold live here.

Yellow or Motorics skills - how well you use your physical body. Things like Hand Eye Coordination, Perception, and Composure.

There are good descriptions of each skill in the game. At the beginning, you can choose from three predefined archetypes (Thinker, Sensitive, or Physical) or create your own by allocating 12 points between the four skill categories and picking one skill as your "signature."

What Is The Best Skill Build?

There isn't an "best" one! You can play the game equally successfully with any build, but different builds will feel very different to play, especially early in the game.

That said, I would recommend against doing a 3-3-3-3 build because it just won't be as fun. Most skills generally start to really show effects at around a 4, and failing skill checks is often funny and shouldn't lock you out of completing any checks except if you've done something really unusual.

Basically the "best" build for you is whatever is the most fun - pick something that speaks to you and go for it.

In general, Intellect builds will get a lot of worldbuilding and lore and be really good at detecting. Psyche builds will have a better sense of other people and the world and strong intuition. Physical builds tend to be able to punch their way through obstacles but aren't very smart or empathetic and struggle with following their gut instincts/cravings without thinking about it. Motorics builds will find several early-game skill checks a lot easier for them and will be good at skills like shooting, picking locks, noticing stuff, keeping cool under pressure, and talking about cars.

Some key things to consider when deciding on your character build:

Encyclopedia is the skill that gives you lore and worldbuilding information.

If you want to min-max your build to get as many skill points as possible, make sure you have good Conceptualization so you can unlock the thought Actual Art Degree.

Esprit de Corps is similar to Empathy, but it works specifically on other cops. Doing a run with high EDC helps unlock a ton of lore about many of the other key characters in the game.

Electrochemistry will try to get you to drink, smoke, have sex, and take drugs. It will also give you insights into the drinking/smoking/drugging/sex habits of others. VERY high EC will allow you to unlock a leopard-print unitard underwear option for your player character.

You have two health pools, Health and Morale. Health is affected by the Endurance skill and Morale is affected by the Volition skill. If you start a game with only 1 point in either purple or red skills, that can mean you die very easily early in the game. My first playthrough I did a high INT build and I died in the first room of the game from turning on the lights even though I had a terrible hangover. So just be aware.

Shivers is my favorite skill in the game and I'm not alone there. Shivers allows you to have a connection to your city. A lot of the best moments in the game come during Shivers checks and the writing is generally really evocative. Great for atmosphere.

My favorite skills are Esprit de Corps for character knowledge, Shivers for cool atmosphere, and Drama because Drama is just really funny.

What Else Do I Need To Know?

If you seem stuck, go somewhere else and talk to more people OR spend a skill point to level up a skill.

You can zoom in and out. My first playthrough I didn't realize this for a while and kept missing certain characters who were standing somewhere I needed to be zoomed out to see.

A lot of things that are usually part of game menus have to be unlocked. You get a map by buying it at the bookstore. You get your stats and to-do list by finding your police ledger.

Cuno seems horrible but if you gain his trust there's a lot of depth to his character. There is also a potential ending where Cuno acts as your partner during the endgame.

Do the sidequests. They are often the best stories in the game.

Don't be TOO afraid of disappointing Kim. If you avoid being racist/sexist/hurting people, he will usually come around.

That said, if you play as a terrible person he won't be your friend anymore. I don't know how people can take the emotional trauma of that, but some people do!

Save frequently, Just In Case.

Don't be too hasty to reset. Let things play out. Most of the deaths are pretty funny and sometimes you might think you died but really you didn't.

That said, it's fine to reload a save if you messed something up. It's a single player game, it isn't "cheating" to do this if you want to.

If you fail the red check at the church it is extra double okay to reload a save and make that not have happened. (This is probably one of the two highest-stakes skill checks in the game because if you succeed you get one of the best scenes in the game and if you fail you get one of the worst.)

Look at everything and talk to everyone.

I like to keep at least one unused skill point at all times in case I need to unlock a skill check I've failed once.

If you arrest someone or send the body to Processing, Kim will be gone for the rest of the day. There are some things you can only do with him and some you can only do without him, so plan accordingly.

Hope this helps and always feel free to ask if you want more help/get stuck/need hints/just want to scream about the game with me!!