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ghost-proofbaby · 6 months ago

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never love an anchor (e.m. x reader)

"On some level, I think I always understood that a ship could never really love an anchor."

warnings: severe hurt/brief comfort, suicidal ideations, severely depressed reader. again: detailed recount of suicidal ideations. dead dove: do not eat.

wc: 5.8k+

an: i cannot emphasize this enough - this fic deals with a severely depressed, and blatantly suicidal reader. it is extremely heavy. it is extremely triggering. it is extremely self-indulgent. the romance aspect is ambiguous and the comfort aspect at the end is brief. this is a genuine, and sincerely personal piece of writing. it is an outline of how suicidal ideations may present themselves to some people. of these 5k words, 4k is deeply littered with reader's ideations without sugar coating. please, please, please do not read this unless you're in the state of mind to read it. you've surely heard it before but i'll say it just to be sure: it is a permanent solution for temporary feelings. and, just in case no one has told you, i'm glad you're alive. if you're reading this, i'm glad that you're alive. you're enough.

if you find yourself feeling like reader, i urge that you find resources such as those linked. hotlines, therapists, friends, your doctor, your family - please. i do not wish these emotions upon anyone, and they should never be taken lightly.

that being said, here are my guts from a very vulnerable moment, spilled out across the page. please handle them with care if you choose to read.

Technically speaking, the pressure that the human body is capable of handling almost seems infinite. When introduced slowly, and time is given to adjust, there is no pinpointed amount of pressure that dooms the human body. Like a crab in slow boiling water, your body should be theoretically able to handle a steady increase, bit by bit, and never truly notice.

So why does it currently feel like you’re dying?

The pressure was never an overnight thing. It was a conglomeration you’d gathered, piece by piece, collecting little souvenirs of all the responsibilities you can’t currently remember if you’d ever agreed to along the way. It hadn’t been sudden, it hadn’t been with lack of adjusting, it hadn’t been a pressure suddenly unloaded upon you all at once – you’d done this, brick by brick, all with your own two hands.

Keeping up with friends, keeping up with work, keeping up with expectations. Always trying to run ahead of the curve, always trying to be better. You should be fine. You shouldn’t even notice. You shouldn’t be sobbing on your bathroom floor, clutching the edge of your porcelain tub, every single breath a labor of survival.

It feels like every bone in your body is splintering. It feels like the world has cracked open your ribs, one by one, just for show. You don’t feel poetic like the movies, you don’t feel like a valuable lesson learned in the books. You feel as though you’ve become nothing more than some crude display in a contemporary art gallery, and you were the one to hang yourself on the wall.

Needles prickle across your skin with another heaving sob, as if you can feel the push pins you’ve used to spread yourself out for consumption.

We still on for tonight?

The text from Eddie glares at you from your phone discarded on the floor mere inches away. You’re lucky the screen hadn’t broken when you’d thrown it down on the ground on your way to the toilet, dry heaving through all your tears.

He wasn’t a part of the issue. If anything, he was part of the solution.

A shining clean slate, pristine whites and a scratch-free surface for you to press your cheek to when it all got a bit much. An abyss of freedom and openness for when the world was all a bit smothering. An anchor to cling to, a rope to tie around your wrists to keep from floating too far. The willow tree in a graveyard to rest your back against, the caress of a warm sun even if only momentarily as you stared out across headstones of all the pieces of you that you can never get back. Every version of you that has long since buried, a few even with newly churned dirt resting upon them. Something soft, something sacred, to rest your hands upon.

Why does he still let you rest your bloodied and dirtied palms on his shoulders? Did he ever agree to that to begin with?

You can’t remember. Or maybe your brain is simply refusing to recall.

I hate to cancel, but I’m sick. I don’t think I can come out tonight :-(

What? Is everything okay? Are you okay? Do I need to bring you anything?

Please don’t.

The please is what gives you away. You should have forgone it, should have offered him a lighthearted response instead.

But there is a pit in the bottom of your stomach, and seeing all the question marks across his text only made it more terminal. Only gave it more reason to swallow you whole. Only gave it more reason to grow and to tangle up and to restrict each stuttering breath of yours that you can’t seem to steady.

Another buzz comes from your phone, but you don’t look to read it. You resort to resting your forehead against the lip of your toilet, all attempts at a deep breath futile as you finally taste the salt across your lips.

Were you too much? Were you not enough? Was it possible to be an odd juxtaposition of both?

A harrowing thought crosses your mind, and you know if Eddie could read minds across the intricate webbing that connects cell phones, he’d grab you by your shoulders. Maybe shake you until you see sense, or maybe cling to you until the thought has faded into nothingness. As if he could squeeze you hard enough to press together all the splinters that are left of your bones, forming a new body – a better body. One that can handle the pressure. One that isn’t imploding upon itself. A more durable mind, a more capable suit of skin to occupy.

Does it even matter anymore? Would it even matter if I simply vanished?

Would it be so bad to let the pit finally consume you? To just give in, to let it erase you from existence. To finally wave your white flag and let the awfulness inside of you finally win the battle, erasing you from existence and leaving behind an empty space in the world that could be filled with someone better.

Someone who could be a better friend. Someone who could be a harder worker. Someone who wasn’t choked up on their bathroom floor, beginning to contemplate if the painful gasps were even worth it.

Were you worth it? Were you worth the air in your lungs? Or could it better serve someone who could handle all the pressure?

And it wasn’t even that much pressure to begin with, if you pick it apart thread by thread. It was the natural weight of the human experience, and you were still crumbling.

There was a full bottle of ibuprofen in the cabinet. There was a busy street not far from your home. There was a bathtub that could easily be filled with water – you’d never been good at holding your breath, unless someone counted the last few months, in which that seemed to be all you were good at.

There was even a bridge, 5.27 miles away from your house exactly. You could already envision the patch of grass you could park your car at, feel the drop in temperature as you stood and overlooked the tame waves of a man-made lake.

Maybe your feet didn’t even have to leave the pavement. Maybe it would be enough to just stand in the silence and see the jump with your own two eyes.

You felt like nothing more than a ghost of yourself, yes, but maybe. Maybe, just maybe, there would still be a broken shard within you that could stir awake at it all. Maybe if you got up off the bathroom floor and set yourself into motion, it would open its eyes just in time to scream no.

Ghosts don’t just appear. They were a vibrant soul once – they were somebody once.

But it’s hard to imagine that you ever were. When it gets like this, it’s hard to push through all the tumultuous thoughts and loathly emotions to remember that. A version of you vibrant, a version of you that might have been worthy, if only for a moment.

A version of you that wasn’t insulting to compare to others. That was capable of progress, of earning your blip of existence.

You don’t want the bottle of ibuprofen. You don’t want the busy street. You don’t want the overflowing tub. You don’t even want the calm of the bridge. You just want it to stop.

There’s a knock on your front door that echoes through the entire apartment. You dread that you already know who it is, but you can’t get up to answer.

You can’t move from this very spot. You’re terrified of what will happen when you do.

Will your bones collapse into ash upon the floor? Will you make one wrong move, and in a fit of pressure, make a terribly permanent decision for what feels like a terribly permanent feeling?

Maybe you were born with the pit in your stomach. Maybe you were born with that black hole inside of you. Cursed to always be yearning, always be a juxtaposition, always be a ghost of what could have become.

You think you hear the click of your front door opening. You think you hear heavy footsteps across the hardwood floors. You think, you think, you think. That’s the issue.

The tears are still coming and going in erratic tides. The salt is drying out your lips, your cheeks, the corners of your eyes. You’d thought you’d been incapable of any more emotions like this, but your tear ducts have managed to prove you wrong.

Does it even matter anymore?

You’d left the bathroom door wide open.

Were you worth it?

You’d been home alone – past tense.

A more durable mind, a more capable suit of skin to occupy.

A soft gasp of your name has you microscopically lifting your head from the toilet seat. You know what the scene looks like; it looks like nothing more than the excuse you’d used. You look as though you’re ill, like you’ve been spilling your guts across the bathroom floor all night.

If you had been, would it all feel a little less heavy?

“Hey, Eds.”

You’re tired. You’re exhausted. Your voice is nothing more than a drag of a whisper as you look up at your anchor standing in the doorway, his face painted with concern.

Maybe you were an anchor – maybe being an anchor wasn’t a good thing. After all, what use does an anchor have beyond weighing down the ship?

“Jesus,” he mutters as he rushes to your side, falling to his knees carelessly as his hand flies out to brush back tendrils of your hair, “You look like shit.”

You felt like shit.

Selfishly, you lean into his touch, desperate for comfort. Desperate for those caring palms to soothe the ache you’d carried since birth. Desperate to hear him tell you that you’re wrong – hands to promise you that you’re worthy, fingers to wrap around your bones rather than these burning ropes. You’re bloodied and raw, fully on display, and you just want to be okay.

You don’t want the bridge. You want Eddie. You want him to magically make it okay, and that’s unfair.

You’re not his weight to carry, not his burden to shoulder.

After far too long of a silence, one in which he sits patiently in with you, all you can really reply is a broken, “Yeah.”

Immediately, he knows something is wrong. Because of course he does.

Because he’s a good friend. He’s a good person. He has the right words more often than not, and his hands were always formed to heal rather than injure. Create rather than destroy. Those warm palms are made to hold the space he’s earned in the grand scheme of the Universe, and it almost makes you nauseous as the jealousy spreads.

He’s good.

And you’re simply rotten.

You used to lie to yourself and say it was simply one rotted bit amongst plenty of good, but tonight, it all seemingly comes to clarity. You can’t dig out the bad, cleanse yourself of the rot, because it’s all decay.

You don’t have to let the pit consume you – it already has. You were born with it, and it had swallowed you whole from the first cry that had ever left your lips.

He makes himself a bit more comfortable, and you almost feel bad for reducing him to nothing more than the bathroom floor, “You wanna talk about what’s really wrong?”

“I’m sick.”

“This isn’t just some stomach bug.”

Your throat begins to tighten again, and suddenly, his gentle touch across the crown of your head burns. Your eyes water ferociously, and your chest caves into itself.

You can’t make a better body or a more sound mind out of the mess you’ve become. You can’t pull gold from tarnished rubble.

Confessing to him will only be handing over something heavy, something terrible, that he shouldn’t have to struggle with as well. But not offering him a sliver of the truth almost feels more dishonoring.

“Do you ever feel like a waste of space?” you croak, leaning back, finally accepting that the small space of the toilet that had been cooling your face has gone warm. Another thing you’ve ruined, in hindsight, “Like, this world is filled with great people, and I just… I just, I’m taking up the space- I’m wasting the space-”

You can’t get out the proper words. You don’t know how.

How do you say you want to cease to exist when you’re not really sure if that’s the truth? You’re miserable, and you’re selfish, and you’re not entirely sure your feet would have ever left the pavement if you had driven yourself to the bridge. You’d be too scared to do it.

Too scared to miss the day that science announces it’s found a cure to all your rot, a miracle drug to erase the pit, a way to reverse all the damage you’ve been comprised of your whole life.

His brows furrow and his hand stops all the calming movements, “What? Are you- are you saying you feel like a waste of space?”

It feels silly to admit it to other people. To try and describe how it all feels. Like a child trying to convince their parents the Boogeyman is real, you have to make him see that you’re right. You have evidence, you have proof, and it’s not just a feeling.

“I don’t feel like I’m a waste of space,” you finally correct, both yourself and him, “I know I’m a waste of space.”

“Bullshit.”

“Eddie, don’t-”

“No,” he cuts you off. And somehow, in only a way that he’s capable of, it’s not offensive, “You’re not. I’m not going to sit here and listen to my favorite person claim they’re wasting space-”

“I am!” It’s your turn in the cycle of interruption. You pull away from him entirely, chest heaving with the weight presenting itself once more, tears starting to fall all over again. You can’t even distinguish where the old tears stop and the new ones begin, “I really am. All I seem to do lately is just exist. And that’s such a- such a- that’s such a waste. I can’t read any of the things I should enjoy these days, I can’t even write. All of the words feel like they just come out wrong. I’m letting everyone down left and right, I’m never living up to whatever pedestal you’ve put me on. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life. I don’t even know where I’ll be in a year from now – I can’t even see that far in the future.”

Heaves become sobs, and the crumbling has begun once more. A cycle of breaking, a cycle of demolition. Even leaving behind the rubble feels like a crime. A waste of space.

“I don’t think I’m a good person,” you manage to spit out between all your visceral reactions, “Every year, I tell myself the same thing – I’ll be better, I’ll be kinder, I’ll be worth it. And every year, I fail.”

Can he see it? All the fractures and splinters and pits and metaphors?

Can he smell it? All the rot and the destruction and hopelessness?

Can he feel it? All the pressure?

Through your sniffles, you press your back to the tub, knees to your chin as you wrap your arms around your legs, desperately trying to shrivel up. To take up less space. To waste less space.

“I used to think I could make up for it,” you whisper, “I could offer people things that made them forget I’m… so useless. But I don’t think I’m even capable of that anymore.”

If he’s about to respond, it’s drowned out by your cries. You press your eyes hard into your kneecaps, until you see stars, and you try to swallow down all the embarrassment. Try to stop all the hurt from spilling out, to stop all your guts from painting the bathroom walls.

He could simply sit there, let you wallow in your misery alone. Sit and stare as the artwork finally serves its purpose to the visitors of the gallery. Maybe jot down some commentary on how with your bones all spread out like this, the point the artist was attempting to make becomes oh so clear.

And yet, he doesn’t.

You know it’s his arms that are wrapping around you, pulling you from the chill of the tub and into the warmth of his chest. And you let yourself smother within the fabric of his shirt the same exact way in which you’ve convinced yourself you smother everyone around you, let yourself breathe in drugstore cologne and his last cigarette rather than think about all the thoughts that had been spiraling you into dismay over the last twenty four hours – over the last twenty four years.

He’d probably been smoking while waiting on your call tonight. Probably riddled with anxiety, if the shake of his hands pressing into your back are anything to go off of. An anxiety and waiting game that wouldn’t have to exist if you didn’t exist.

The thought makes you cry harder.

If a ghost dies, can it even still return back as itself? Can it still find it within itself to haunt empty hallways, and watch the ones it once loved find peace?

“You’re not useless,” it sounds as though Eddie might be crying as well, if not just a little choked up, “You’re not- I swear- You’re not useless, okay? Never have been, never will be.”

His murmured words are nice, but they fuel an unimaginable guilt. It was supposed to be a nice night. A night of movie marathons and midnight coffee, of trying to remind yourself why you still stick around. A moment of incomparable joy and sweet reprieve as your stomach ached from laughter, your cheeks swelling with an infallible grin that Eddie always seems to pull out of you.

There’s no smiling, no giggling, right now. Just his favorite band shirt from the show you two had attended a few years before, soaking with a fast-growing stain from all your tears.

When you don’t answer him, only manage to wrap your selfish arms around his waist, he continues, “How long have you felt this way, sweetheart?”

And if you hadn’t already been shattered previously, that would have finally broken you.

You can’t pinpoint when it started. You can’t clear the smoke of memories and find an exact moment that you can point to and say, there. That’s where the hurt starts — that’s where the rot starts.

“I don’t know.”

In your mind, it’s a wail. Loud and ferocious, efforts of all it has taken to withstand the pressure of your undoing screamed out loud.

But on this quiet bathroom floor, it can’t even be considered a whisper. Nothing more than the spoken words lingering from a ghost who can’t give up the haunt. An echo of a memory, an echo of the piece in you that can’t let go, not yet.

Not of existing, and not of him. Your fists hold him so firmly against you, you’re scared that you’re going to bruise him. Hurt him just from the sheer effort of trying to show that you love him.

The only way you know how to love – a violent dog who will always bite the kindest hands. Leaving behind bloodied knuckles even if you hadn’t so much as snipped this time.

You take a sharp breath, aware of the levity of the words you’re about to say, “I don’t want to exist anymore, but I wouldn’t even make it off the bridge if I tried.”

It’s not about the bridge anymore. In all likelihood, it wouldn’t be the bridge you turn to. There’s a grand metaphor somewhere in the admittance, but your mind is just too tired to try and paint a prettier picture of it for him.

Because exist is just a placeholder. And there’s a bigger, scarier word that should stand in its place.

He starts to break the hold, and you nearly sob out again just at that. Losing the warmth of his chest and arms strike pain somewhere deep within you, just north of the pit that’s devoured all that’s left of you.

“Bridge?” Phrased as a clarifying question, but when you see his face, it’s clear he knows. There are no good words left to say about it, “Sweetheart, no.”

There are worse reactions to be had. More scenarios that end in slamming doors or deafening silent treatments. Realizations that you’re right and it’s not worth it – defense mechanisms that involve them leaving first.

“I couldn’t do it, even if I want-”

Even if I wanted to. The words you can’t speak, dying on your tongue.

Do you want to? Where does the pain begin? And where could it end?

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he laughs humorlessly, his hands still gripping your biceps in a death hold, “You… you just…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and you don’t blame him. You knew this was heavy; you knew this isn’t the type of bomb to drop on someone you love.

But if you didn’t, where would the bomb have gone? You’re not equipped to detonate it. You’re not equipped to survive the explosion. You wouldn’t want to survive that explosion.

“I’m sorry,” your words pour out, beginning to shake beneath his palms, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Dry, cracked lips feel as though they nearly split from the apologies. More violence, more devastation, more of what you always knew you were. You can see it in his eyes – you’re dragging him down with you, right down to the bottom of the ocean. You’re being an anchor.

He’s all stutters and harsh breaths, panic filling the space with your own as his eyes search yours, “Don’t apologize. You don’t have to apologize. Just-”

He cuts off and is pulling you close again. Slamming your bones into his, wrapping up around you as if he might be able to keep you safe from the world. From your own mind.

“I don’t need apologies,” another squeeze of your closer to him, another attempt to pull you away from the dangers that lie within, “I don’t- I just… Can I help? How do I make it better? Just say the word. I’ll do it.”

It’s not your job. That’s not your job.

You don’t realize you’ve said the words out loud until he’s squeezing you so tightly that you now can’t breathe. Until all you are is him. All his old t-shirts he’s lent to you that hang in your closet, all the nights spent with tangled legs as you sit across from each other on your couch, all the phone calls in which he refused to be the first one to hang up. Cologne that is too cheap to be able to cling so ferociously as it does to all your surroundings, chain-smoked cigarettes you always chastise him for because they’re gonna kill you one day, the smoke of his latest blunt resting in an ashtray as his head finds home in your lap.

All the inside jokes. All the hugs. All the simple texts, if for nothing more than to just check in on each other. The broken reminders of having someone out there that cares. That loves you.

How can such rotten hands pull such love from others? How have you yet to infect him?

“I know it’s not my job,” he finally says, and you know for a fact he’s crying along with you before the first of his tears have wet the crown of your head, “It’s never been a job. You’re not a job. Okay? Get that through your head. There’s- Fuck, there’s plenty of things I wanna drill in that pretty little head of yours right now, but I know I can’t, so just get that.”

He’s trying. A little trill of his tongue that falls a bit flat when he refers to your pretty little head, a brief squeeze of your shoulders as he tries to relax a little. He wants to make you feel better. He wants to make it better.

But he’s still holding you like he’s terrified. You did that – you instilled that fear.

“I’m a mess,” you whisper in bitter realization, ash on your tongue as you process what you’ve done. You’ve already apologized, but you’re seconds away from doing so again, “I’m- I’m a mess, and I’m dragging you into it, and I’m sor-”

“Stop being sorry.” Definitive words, no room for argument. The smallest of shifts as things click into place. He isn’t budging – he isn’t letting go, “Do you remember when I first met you?”

You can’t tell if the question is meant to have a point, or if it’s meant to be a distraction. You let it grow into the latter.

“Yeah,” you breathe out against him, melting into his chest, trying to focus on his voice rather than the ones in your head, “But tell me about it anyway?”

“Two years ago. Technically, two years and seven months,” he starts in the same voice he used to take on during Hellfire sessions, before the members had scattered from coast to coast and his D&D club only became a rarity when the stars aligned. There’s still a crack to his voice from his tears, but that doesn’t stop him, “We were in some cursed fucking diner we don’t even go to anymore, in the dead of the night, and all the servers knew your name and order,” he paints the picture with a humor that should feel out of place, but it settles some of your breathing. Omitting all the vivid details, opting for triggering the memory with words you’d just get. You can feel the stick of the plastic beneath your thighs, you can smell the grease of the kitchen. You can see the cloudy night out of the oversized windows. He’s a natural born storyteller in the most subtle of ways, always knowing his audience, “You were sitting all alone in that booth, and all of Hellfire had just left. Gareth had just told us how he was going to college in California – did you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, he did,” his chin presses against the top of your head, a huff of a laugh escaping him, “Dropped the bomb it was our last summer as a club probably. We were happy for him, though. Real fucking happy. Got milkshakes to celebrate and made plans to get drunk off our asses the next night to keep the party going. It was dumb, and I’m getting off track, but…”

Baited breath, you’re waiting for him to continue. No thoughts of the bridge. No thoughts of your failures. Living in a small memory with him on the floor of your bathroom.

“Anyways, you were sitting there all alone, with a plate of fries and ranch.”

“Oh, God,” your nose scrunches and you try to pull away, suddenly remembering how embarrassing this memory ends for you. It suddenly didn’t seem like the best way for him to make you feel better by any means, “No, I remember how this story ends, and-”

“I’m not done,” he locks his arms around you, and you can feel the whisper of a smile as it brushes against your temple, “Obviously you know where I’m going with this, but I’m not done, sweetheart. Because all the other guys had just left, and I’m sitting there, realizing the only other customer was some random person over across the diner, scribbling away in some notebook. Thought you looked cute when you were all focused like that, y’know? But then you were so focused that it became distracted, and you spilled that ranch all over yours-”

“Please, stop.”

You’re laughing through the words, weakly, the air of desperation in the word please being far different from earlier in the night. No bridges, no failures.

“I was probably being a weirdo, trying to run over and help you or whatever the fuck I was trying to do. I probably made it worse, right?”

You’re there, remembering a version of Eddie that was a stranger, taking napkins to the knees of your jeans and smearing the ranch rather than really helping you clean it up. “Yeah, just a little bit.”

“Sorry for that, by the way,” he airily apologizes before continuing, “But I just remember thinking about how focused you were on that notebook. And how you laughed with the waiter. And how you were just… lost in your own little world. And how you were so cute. You were so nice. The type of person I wanted in my life. Took one look at you with that ranch all over your lap and thought, huh. I want to get to know that person.”

“Nice? I was not nice, I was-” you cut off, heart all but stopping as you recognize the point of it all. It wasn’t meant to just be a distraction. He was making a point. “I was a… a mess that day.”

“Exactly.”

He pulls away again, and this time, it’s a little easier. The world has put a pause on its ending and you can handle the weight of his arms lightening for a few seconds, just so he can get a good look at your face.

“You were a mess the day that I met you, and I still wanted you in my life,” he says each word deliberately, not breaking eye contact. Fear has broken through to determination. “And even if you’re still a mess today, I still want you. Nothing changes. You get that?”

No bridges.

No failures.

The weight of it all had been heavy. The type of sorrow you thought was never meant to be carried by more than your own two hands. But he had taken it in his palms, lifted it from you entirely, even if it would only be temporary. One day you’d have to endure the pain again, get to the root of the problem. Figure out if all your ailments had been something wired into you since birth, or things you’d picked up along your way. But for now, you could breathe again. You could hear the drumming of your heart in your ears, and you could hear every single one of both yours and Eddie’s breaths in the silence, and that was enough.

“I don’t want to die,” you finally quietly admit. Saying one of the bigger, scarier words. The thing you’d been too afraid to let slip off your tongue originally. “I just- sometimes it all gets a bit loud, you know? And I know you said don’t apologize, but I am sorry that I scared you. And I’m sorry that you have to take the bad to also get that little bit of the good with me.”

His hand leaves one of your arms for the first time since he’d first wrapped you up, and it finds its way to cradle the side of your head. Holding you as if you’re porcelain still. You know that won’t go away, not tonight. “I’d rather have your bad days than have nothing at all,” he chokes up once more, and you can see tears threatening to welt in his eyes, “You get that, too. Alright? You’re worth it. Bad, good, funny, sad – give it to me. I’m asking for it. Just don’t… don’t leave me with the nothing.”

You’re worth it.

He’s found a worth in you attached to nothing at all. He’s sitting here with you, on the bathroom floor, and his perception of you has nothing to do with what you can only offer.

It just has to do with you. He sees you, and he’s decided you’re worth it. Even now.

He smiles softly, as if he can see the realization dawning upon you, “You wanna get up off the floor now? We can go sit on your couch or bed or something.”

You’re quick to shake your head. Your knees are partially digging into his thighs, your breaths are matching his.

“Okay,” his face falls slightly, but not entirely. Not entirely, “That’s okay. Do you want me…. Do you want me to go?”

Another shake of your head. But this time, you need to offer more than just the motion of your head, especially when you can feel tears returning as your throat tightens up, “No. No, just- Stay with me? Please?”

Your hands reach out without you even processing it, gripping his wrists, desperate and clinging and still verging on the edge of violent. The thought of being alone is terrifying, but the thought of having to watch him walk out of this room is even more petrifying.

He doesn’t even flinch as you sink your claws in. His smile only returns, and he shuffles to pull you both to hold your backs up against the wall across from the toilet, “Of course. I’ll stay, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere – wouldn’t even dream of it.”

His words shake just a little less than they had when he’d first entered the room.

He can’t fix it all magically. That isn’t his job, isn’t his role, isn’t his choice. But he can sit here with you, on the floor of the bathroom, endlessly patient and tragically caring as he urges you to lay down. He stretches his legs out and pats his lap once before hovering his hands over your shoulder, guiding you until your temple is flush with his thigh.

He can choose to not hesitate as his fingers immediately push through the baby hairs by your temple, a soft hum in the back of his throat that sounds exactly as you feel.

Hesitantly content. Just for now. It’s enough.

The storm is receding. As hours pass by, and noises of uncertainty become more confident hums of a song you faintly recognize, it all settles. He stays. You stay. The storm passes for the time being, and the hole tempers itself for just the night.

It’s enough for now. You’ll worry more tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. You’ll talk more about why you feel this way, and he’ll offer better solutions. The weight won’t simply be passed into his waiting hands and forgotten – one day, you’ll find a way to lighten it through dissipation rather than through catastrophe.

One day, the seas will calm, and you’ll find yourself the ship rather than the anchor.

And the captain can be the boy who sits on the floor with you through the sadness, content to wait out the storms with you until you find the worth he sees in you.

#not using taglist due to the triggering nature of this fic #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #tw suicidal ideations #this felt more like a journal entry than a fic at times #but i needed to write it so i did #writing eddie's bits were hard because i've always been bad at being on that side of these things #finding a way to have two humans discuss the emotions in question out loud was just hard #and in case anyone who's reading the tags needs to hear this: you're not a burden for telling your loved ones when you feel this way #i guarantee they'd rather have these hard and uncomfortable conversations than the alternative #the ending only feels rushed and like a band-aid because i truly don't know if i'm capable of writing that type of dialogue #it's already scary enough posting this as it is lol #but save the leaves? idk now im using humor as a coping mechanism #alright i'll shut up now no one is reading this far into the tags

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hadesknockedupintheunderworld · 4 months ago

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The fans: Ugh Sonic was just so preachy. I mean obviously he's supposed to be the good guy, so any uncomfortableness I feel here and any way I feel like Sonic's choices are framed as being why some other people have shitty lives is just bad writing because he is obviously supposed to be right always, but this characterization makes no sense. Isn't he right for the things he did?

Ian Flynn, using Kitsunami to say the (barely even at this point) quiet part even louder: Hey it's almost like ever since the Mr. Tinker event we've been purposely running with the critique of Sonic as being more selfish than he appears. Sonic is upholding a system of Eggman v Sonic that currently benefits him and shuts down talk of how to improve the current system because he likes his own personal enjoyment and he's attached enough to Eggman that he'd rather Eggman pretend to be a good person than be stuck in prison for life. He doesn't even quite practice what he preaches. We are trying to show that the current hero v villain system and Sonic's recklessness currently affects some people poorly and that Sonic isn't a perfect hero.

#fandom wank #sonic the hedgehog #idw sonic comics #idw sonic 2024 annual #2024 sonic annual spoilers #idw somic comic spoilers #idw sonic spoilers #idw 2024 sonic annual spoilers #i just be ramblin #god one of these days I need to commit to the sonic character essay #because you HAVE to be able to see Sonic as a multifaceted character that is surprisingly selfish and a bit self centered despite his image #as a good hero who is always right to understand what the writers for Sonic Prime and Idw Sonic are trying to do #The point is not that Sonic is secretly a bad guy or anything #the point is that we're already primed to assume that anything Sonic does is a good thing because he's a hero and protagonist of what is #considered a 'children's media'#And people who can see those moments in different games or properties times where Sonic isn't being so good as him actually not being so #good of a person are primed to explain it away as flaws of the writing or the genre at that time *because* Sonic's behavior is not said to #be bad or punished in those games #And become we're already primed to assume that Sonic is already the good guy who's making the best choices no matter what‚ it's supposed to #be shocking when the narrative takes a step back and gives a critique of this status quo by showing us the effects of it #But instead of having some sort of eye opening event or being willing to meet the narrative where it's at #99% of the people who post here got uncomfortable and just doubled down‚ saying that because these things are being pointed out and some of #Sonic's actions (that aren't even alien to the games)#are being framed in a not so good light‚ then it must not be purposeful. That it must be bad writing through and through and just bad #Sonic characterization #because for people who claim they want Sonic as a series to be deeper and more thought out they sure start to pearl clutch when they feel #like a property isn't being as shallow as the very same games they think kinda suck #anyways anyways sorry about the rant I'll get back to regularly scheduled posting after this #vent post

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airenyah · 2 months ago

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A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 4

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10)

Hiii, I'm back at it again <3

I'm not gonna write a proper introduction this time around. You know the drill. Enjoy!

(And if you're new here, feel free to check out my posts on the other episodes linked above first.)

Pronoun situation: In my first meta post I kept up with their pronoun use on a scene by scene basis. Just like in ep3, I won't do that in ep4 either because Fadel and Style consistently use the rude guu/mueng pronouns for each other throughout the entire episode without any significant pronoun changes.

To recap: Last time we saw Style, he had just been left lying on the cold hard ground with a punch to the gut after having hooked up with Fadel in a random storage room. Just like at the end of ep2, at the end of ep3 they did not part on the best of terms either.

No. 1: Blissful Dreams

Even though the hook-up ended rather painfully for Style, and even though the hook-up itself may not have been quite what Style dreamed of, it's still left quite a mark on him. So much so, that he even dreams about it that night. So much so, that this dream even affects him in real life the next morning.

"Crap," Style swears. This wasn't the plan. Style may have a bit of a problem now. And over the course of this episode we'll find out just how much of a problem Style actually has now, because the dream hasn't only affected him physically, but the reality that inspired the dream has also affected him emotionally.

No. 2: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

The majority of the interactions Style has had with Fadel so far have ended with Fadel either forcing Style to leave (even to the point of physically dragging him away) or with Fadel abandoning Style. Even if from Style's perspective it may not seem like his actions have much of a positive effect on Fadel, I think deep down he does sense that he's managing to worm his way into Fadel's life after all. In any case, Style is not giving up no matter how many times Fadel will ditch him. However, since none of the strategies he's tried so far have seemed to really bear fruit, he now changes course again: disappear for a bit, so that he'll miss you. This strategy works exceptionally well, but Style won't know about it until about two thirds into the episode.

No. 3: Blue-Balled

Despite his resolution to stay away from Fadel to make him miss him, Style fails to hold out for long and is back rather sooner than later. As @secriden points out, Style "comes running to Fadel the second he hears about Fadel asking about him" (quoted from @secriden). Style even explicitly says that he hadn't planned on stopping by, but then "some auntie told me someone asked about me". Style has tried out a new strategy that he hasn't gone with before, learned that it actually did have some sort of affect on Fadel, and immediately rushes to confirm this for himself. Within the first 30 seconds (20 seconds, to be exact!) of Style entering the kitchen he asks Fadel twice if Fadel has missed him. It's literally the second and the fifth sentence out of his mouth when he shows up. This is important info to Style, he needs to know if Fadel has missed him and he needs to know immediately. Style has already started to develop positive feelings towards Fadel over the course of episode 3 and their little storage room fling has influenced that development even more. Style needs to know if Fadel feels the same way. In fact, he downright assumes that Fadel feels the same way: it's in the way he is so satisfied and smug when he walks through the door. Style is very happy about this.

Fadel, however, shoots him down. Style's smile fades, but I don't think it's necessarily because he's hurt or disappointed or wasn't expecting this reaction. No, Fadel has reacted like this to about 90% of the things Style has said to him the entire time they've known each other. Style backs up a bit, but the way he looks at Fadel seems curious, like he's searching for something, like there is a question on his mind. Why does he STILL keep insisting like this, why does he STILL go for rejection when evidence points to the opposite?

Reminder: Last time the two of them saw each other, Style was way out of line and Fadel ended up punching him. Style was also quite upset that Fadel would sleep with him and immediately ditch him. In their last meeting, they didn't part on the best of terms.

So Fadel claims he didn't miss Style (despite evidence saying otherwise) and that Style annoys him because he messes up Fadel's routine and Style thinks about it for a moment, contemplates what Fadel's problem could be with him this time that could make him act like that and then comes to a conclusion as to what it might be:

He lets Fadel know that he's not angry at him for what happened the night before. When Style says "I was asking for it", I'm not entirely convinced he's referring to his unserious behavior at the group meeting. I'm not sure he's actually realized that his behavior was disrespectful. After all, he was "rewarded" with sex for it. Plus, the next thing he says is: "[I]t doesn’t matter how scary you are". I think this refers to their confrontation and verbal exchange right around Fadel punching Style. I already touched on Style not being scared of Fadel in my ep 3 meta:

Fadel threatens to punch Style if he doesn't move but Style refuses to stand down even though he knows very well from personally witnessing it that Fadel is perfectly capable of punching him if he wished to. Despite that, Style is not scared of Fadel. [...] When Style says "You like me" I don't think he necessarily means it in the sense of you're in love with me or you're crushing on me. I think he [...] is making it very clear just how confident he is about Fadel not hurting him. [...] It's a counterattack to Fadel's threat.

(Bolded for emphasis)

Style was very fearless the night before, which is why I think when Style says "I was asking for it" he's referring specifically to how Fadel was threatening him and how Style put up a fight in response. He "was asking for it", because he didn't move out of Fadel's way despite Fadel making it very clear what the consequences of Style's stubbornness would be. Fadel got scary in their last meeting, and now Style tells him "[I]t doesn’t matter how scary you are, I’m hooked". While in episode 3 the "I'm not scared of you" was implicit in his actions, Style now tells him explicitly in words.

If you've read my episode 3 meta, you'll know that a running theme throughout the entire post ended up being the question of whether Style really meant all the things he said (esp the flirty things) or if it was all just empty words. Here in the kitchen? Style means every single word, every flirty sentence that he utters. In episode 3, when he bugs Fadel at the running track or when he tells Fadel that he likes and wants him right before they hook up at the end of the episode, there is such an air of loudness to his demeanor. In contrast, when Style tells Fadel "I'm hooked" and asks him what he has to do to win him over, there is much more tranquility to it. Even his voice is calmer, there is no trace of his usual dramatic flair. Style is much more grounded here compared to some of his flirting (attempts) in previous episodes.

Style is being serious when he says "[I]t doesn’t matter how scary you are, I’m hooked", he really means it. But Fadel only looks at him for a moment, squints his eyes briefly, and wordlessly directs his focus back on his herbs, signaling to Style Yeah sure whatever, I don't care, you're a burden and an inconvenience to me. This is yet another very predictable reaction and Style isn't surprised by it, but he's definitely a little annoyed now that he's still not getting through to Fadel, that Fadel still won't admit that he does want Style around and has started taking a liking to him. So Style leans closer to Fadel again and asks what it will take for Style to win him over. Again, Style is being serious about it, his usual over the top flair is missing. He isn't doing this for show, he's not playing anything up because someone else asked him to or because he'll gain something out of it. Style is asking because he genuinely wants to know for no one but himself. Style genuinely cares now.

But Fadel tells Style to fuck off. Not literally, of course (his actual words are "Get out of my face"), but "fuck off" is certainly the subtext of it. And that subtext reaches Style clear as day. Instead of following Fadel's order, he's gonna be a little shit about it now.

"Fuck", you say? Gladly. Malicious compliance with the subtext. Style walks around the table. "I know a guy like you just needs a little nudge."

Again, this time around I do think Style means all the flirty shit that he says. It's in the way his tone is much more calm and quiet and how everything he says is much more deliberate, much more calculated. It's a similar vibe to that time in the gym when he told Fadel to call him any time if he needed a spotter, which, if you've read my first meta post of this series, is a scene you'll know I've determined to be the first time Style genuinely flirts with Fadel for the purpose of flirting and not for any other motivations such as revenge. And now here in the kitchen he's also flirting for the purpose of flirting again. His words aren't just empty words.

Another way we can tell that Style genuinely wants to get into Fadel's pants right there and then is by the way he gets handsy. In episode 3 he doesn't really touch Fadel when he spouts all the sexual innuendos at him at the running track. The only time Style touches him in that scene is when he squeezes Fadel's man boob in order to emphasize the word "heart". Or in the storage room, even though he claims to want Fadel, Style doesn't touch Fadel either during that entire conversation before they get it going. In fact, the only time he touches Fadel before Fadel starts kissing him is to remove Fadel's hand from him. In contrast, the sauna scene in episode 2 showed us that when Style actually, genuinely wants to sleep with Fadel, he'll start touching Fadel in suggestive places, will even go as far as shamelessly stick his hands down Fadel's pants (or, uh, towel in that case). And even though he didn't exactly get handsy with Fadel at the work-out bench, despite my claims of this interaction being the very first time he genuinely flirts with Fadel, well... Style may have not been handsy, but he sure got kneely:

In the kitchen in episode 4 every flirty thing Style says is an attempt at getting into Fadel's pants again (Oh, how very much the storage room fling has left its mark on Style!). Style genuinely wants this, genuinely wants him. Every single one of Style's actions underlines that as well. And then Fadel actually maneuvers him onto the kitchen table. Style is elated.

At this point I want to once again take a little detour to @clemelntine's meta on each of the boys' sexual fantasies of one other and what that means for the storage room hook-up. If you remember, she writes:

No matter how much he annoys Fadel in the day to day and how much he seems to take the upperhand in those interactions, when it comes to sex he likes in the idea of letting Fadel do what he does/wants.

Not only do we see this play out in the storage room in the way Style gladly gives Fadel full control over his body, but we see this pattern continue in the kitchen. Style is very proactive in showing just how much he wants to get into Fadel's pants but the moment Fadel seemingly folds and goes along with it, Style lets Fadel put him on the kitchen table with no resistance whatsoever and eagerly awaits whatever Fadel has in store for him this time, letting Fadel have full control over the situation and his body again.

Whenever Fadel has blocked or rejected or ignored Style in this scene so far, it has not come as a surprise to Style a single time. This is what Fadel does. Style is used to it. It might annoy or disgruntle him at times, but overall he is used to it. But when Fadel drops "You won’t ever get what you want" and leaves him hanging? This time around it hits Style completely out of left field. Style was so caught up in his euphoria, that he didn't see this coming at all (unlike me, the audience, who was just sitting there going "ohh shit oh damn this is gonna be another fake-out" the moment Fadel grabbed Style's waist and turned him towards the table dfjkdf). After all, Fadel did sleep with him the night before, and so Style probably completely forgot that Fadel could dump him at any moment. In fact, he was probably confident that Fadel sleeping with him the night before and now asking about him at the market when Style failed to show up were signs that Fadel had started to develop feelings for him as well. And if Fadel has feelings for him now, then he would likely also want this, so why would Fadel ditch him? But Fadel does. Style is angry and he's hurt and he's disappointed, but Fadel's rejection hits him so much out of nowhere that I think he actually takes a while to process what has just happened and how to feel about it and how to react. Usually in situations like this, Style will put up a fight with Fadel until one of them wins, but this time around he is so stupefied that he immediately moves towards the door when Fadel shoves him towards it without firmly standing his ground and fighting Fadel about it first. Style does yell at Fadel that he won't let Fadel ditch him and when Fadel comes at him again, just for a short moment Style is about to stand his ground, but then Style shoves him away and leaves the kitchen angrily, instead of fighting him.

While I do think Style is hurt by Fadel's actions, I think anger and shock are his leading emotions here as he storms off. I think the hurt only really properly starts coming out and taking over once Style's shock has worn off and he's processed the situation.

No. 4: OnlyFans

The immediate shock of the situation has now worn off, Style has had a little time to process and now he's ready to fight again. There is still so much anger in Style, but now we can also see just how hurt he actually is. This is even more evident when we go back to episodes 1 and 2 where we've seen this whole thing play out before: Fadel humiliates Style in private and Style retaliates by humiliating Fadel in public. Fadel drags Style out of the diner by his feet in the privacy of the closed restaurant. Style yells at him in front of everyone at a busy market place in return. Fadel leaves Style hanging in the privacy of the diner kitchen whose only staff is Fadel himself. Style yells at him in front of every customer at the restaurant in return.

When Fadel drags Style out of the restaurant in episode 1, Style is of course angry and humiliated. And sure, it did hurt his pride, but it's mostly just that. Fadel, at this point, is mostly just some weird, grumpy dude to him that he has now been hired to hit on. Back then Style wasn't expecting that fake-out either, but it doesn't leave him as stunned as it did this time in the kitchen. In episode 1, he even tries to fight Fadel. He can't do much while he's being pulled along the floor, but as soon as Style is back on his feet he immediately starts raging at the door, pulling at the handles and banging at it. In the kitchen, Style is too stunned to put up a fight and actively runs away instead of fighting Fadel.

When Style yells at Fadel in the market place, while it comes from a place of revenge it's still something he does for show. His words are loud and dramatic and they're for everyone around them to hear more than they are for Fadel himself. It's all a public performance to Style. And the audience is everyone at the market. It's about making everyone see how "bad" of a guy Fadel is and it doesn't really matter whether Fadel is listening to his words or not as long as his words reach his true audience and they believe him. Style is clearly having fun yelling at Fadel while also using the chance to blow off some steam from his previous annoyances with Fadel. When Fadel yields, Style immediately lets it go and chills again.

When Style yells at Fadel at the diner, he's once again causing a scene in public, but this time his words are for Fadel to hear, not for the strangers around them. The fact that there's strangers around them is just a welcome bonus and I think in that moment Style doesn't even really care if any of them are actually listening in or not, as long as his words reach Fadel. Style's voice is sharp as a knife, sharper than we've ever heard it before, and every sentence he utters is a stab at Fadel. When Fadel hands him the apron and tells him to leave, Style agrees, but he speaks out a warning first ("But just keep in mind: Nobody gets to nail and bail me."). His fighting spirit has come back, and when Fadel launches a counterattack ("I’ll be the first"), Style does not back down this time around like he did earlier in the kitchen. It's Fadel who walks away this time and Style reminds him that he'll continue to fight him ("A guy like Style won’t back down"). It's only when he walks out of the restaurant that he turns his argument with Fadel into an actual public performance. It's only when he invites everyone at the restaurant to take pictures of him that his words are for show and for his audience to hear.

We've just watched a situation that we've seen before play out but this time around it's very different. Because this time around Fadel actually means something to Style. And this time around Style has already slept with Fadel, which also meant something to him. I'm not entirely sure Style has quite figured out what exactly it all means to him and I also don't think he's head over heels in love with Fadel yet, but he sure is starting to have many emotions. While Style was also enraged back in episode 1 after Fadel dragged him out of the diner, his anger has leveled up now because this time around, underneath all of that anger, Style is also very hurt. They were starting to make progress and Style even got to celebrate small victories along the way (Fadel making him a burger, Fadel actually sleeping with him, Fadel asking about his whereabouts). Style was starting to get somewhere with Fadel, was slowly starting to develop some feelings of his own for Fadel, and Fadel just goes and kicks down Style's sandcastle. What's more, Style has made it very clear to Fadel how he feels about getting nailed and bailed, and then Fadel just goes and does it on purpose.

Style is so angry and hurt that this time around just one public yelling isn't enough. This time he goes for a round 2.

No. 5: A Ruined Man

Style is back at the support group. This time it's not to find out more about Fadel's backstory, this time he is here because he has a message for Fadel. And this time Style's distress isn't cringe, because this time the situation is serious to him. He is seriously angry, and he is seriously hurt, and it's important to him that Fadel is fully aware of it, aware of what he's done to Style.

"When you like someone, and they only think of you as a toy, something they can break, they don’t even know how deep they have cut you."

Oh, Style. I hope you don't end up eating your own words later when Fadel finds out why exactly you were hitting on him and trying to get him to fall for you in the first place.

No. 6: Are These Systoms of Being Pregarnt?

This time Fadel is so done with Style that he drags him away in front of everyone else instead of waiting until no one is around. And Style is finally able to have somewhat of a civil conversation with Fadel again. While he is still angry at Fadel since they still haven't cleared up their quarrel, he is no longer outright yelling at him or attacking Fadel with his words like he was at the diner or in the group meeting just now. The tone of his voice is softer and also his dramatic flair is back when he goes on and on about how he might as well be pregnant. And we also learn what exactly it is that Style wants from Fadel: "You slept with me, so take responsibility for it."

I've already talked at length about why I think Style isn't one for casual, no strings attached one-night stands in my ep3 meta, and Style's words here highlight this once again. The storage room sex mattered to Style. And I don't think it mattered to him because it was a step closer to fulfilling the mission he's been sent on and a step closer to getting the car of his dreams.

If you read my ep3 meta, you'll know that I mention a couple of times that Style is developing "positive feelings" for Fadel. Phrasing it like this rather than phrasing it as "romantic feelings" or "starting to like" was a very deliberate decision. Because I don't think Style was quite there yet in episode 3. He still had many other ulterior motivations and intentions going on, be it Kant's "hit on Fadel so I can get to Bison" mission that Style gets a car out of or Style being nosy about Fadel's lore. If you remember, at the beginning of this meta when Style woke up with a boner I said Style may have a bit of a problem now. The problem is his own feelings – this whole episode hasn't been about Kant's mission or the car anymore (or about Style finding out Fadel's backstory). Instead, this whole episode we've been exploring Style's real feelings, his own desires. Style has started to care when it comes to Fadel, has started to genuinely want him. Style is starting to genuinely like Fadel now. He even lets it slip during the support group meeting:

"When you like someone, and they only think of you as a toy, something they can break, they don’t even know how deep they have cut you."

And yes, one could argue that he's been saying he likes Fadel ever since Kant set him on Fadel and that Style, in fact, has said he likes Fadel many, many times before, so this is nothing out of the ordinary. But I think this time it is in fact different. I think this time he means it. Because if it was just a lie, if those were just empty words, then Fadel dumping him in the kitchen wouldn't have hurt so much. And at this point, I think Style's hurt isn't only about being dumped in the kitchen but also about being ditched in the storage room. Style may have said he won't hold what happened back then against Fadel, but maybe deep down he does. Because the storage room sex mattered to him and at this point of the episode maybe it matters to him even more so than at the beginning of the episode or at the end of episode 3. Not to mentioned, he really doesn't like getting nailed and bailed. You slept with me, so take responsibility for it.

No. 7: I Hate the Way I Don't Hate You. Not Even a Little Bit. Not Even at All.

"You're not killing me or anything like that, right?" Style says as they're walking out of their last scene and Fadel promptly takes him out to the woods into an abandoned greenhouse. They still haven't cleared anything up between the two of them and Style is still kinda angry, which is why I think that when he says "Are we doing it outdoors? Your taste sure surprises me" he says it mostly to piss Fadel off, not because he wants to flirt or actually do it with him in that moment (oh but just you wait another few minutes 🤭🤭🤭).

Fadel once again just wordlessly walks away from Style. Instead of following him, Style stays back at the car, kinda annoyed. We don't know how long exactly Style was waiting, but either way, I think he does lowkey start to get freaked out a little. He wants to go home and starts looking for Fadel.

"I know you’re gonna kill me and hide my body in the woods." Oh Style, sweetie, no. Careful with your words. Apollo's ball of prophecy and all that. Right after that, we get yet another reference to Style not being scared of Fadel. When he enters the greenhouse, searching for Fadel while monologuing, he shouts:

But I ain't scared of you!

Fun fact, in Thai he actually phrases it as "You think I'm scared of you?":

มึงคิดว่ากูกลัวมึงหรอ [mueng - kít wâa - guu - gluua - mueng - rŏr] you - think that - I - scared (of) - you - [question word]

It is night-time, Style walks along dark aisles in search of Fadel who ran away from him and is currently nowhere to be seen, when suddenly, out of nowhere Fadel appears, shoves him into some furniture (ish) and angrily yells into his face: "Who sent you?" Oh, wait, wrong episode.

User @secriden wrote an excellent post detailing the parallels between the ep3 storage room scene and the ep4 forest scene, but I actually think that the beginning of the scene is much closer to a different scene that we saw in episode 2: the locker room scene. It's interesting because this is the third time this episode calls back to the first two episodes. It starts with the parallel of Fadel's fake-out, then we had the parallel of Style publicly humiliating Fadel, and now we have a call-back to the locker room scene, which will soon turn into a parallel of the storage room hook-up. The parallels do be paralleling this episode.

In the locker room, it was Style who dropped a "love confession": "I like you. I liked you the moment I crashed into you that night. It was love at first sight. So damn romantic. Straight out of a movie." But now in the greenhouse it's Fadel's turn. Fadel ambushes Style, shoves him against the bars and starts raging. Fadel has yelled at Style a lot over the past few episodes. He yells at Style to reprimand him, to shoot down his advances, or to tell him to piss off. When Fadel yells at Style, it's all about his feelings of disdain he has for Style. So when Fadel says "I don’t like you messing up my life. My life has been planned out. You’re disrupting it," Style sighs a little and braces himself for yet another fight against Fadel:

But then Fadel goes off-script. "I don’t like myself when I look for you on the morning jog or at the market. I don’t like waiting to see if you’d show up at my restaurant or my go-to club. You— I don’t like you being in my life and changing it."

This is a new one. Style listens intently.

Fadel continues. "I don’t like feeling like this." Style has all his focus entirely on Fadel and his words now. He squeezes his eyes just the tiniest bit. And I think this is where Style starts to figure out the core of Fadel's problem.

"I don’t like it!", Fadel yells and Style looks at him with so much resolution and with so much understanding.

And then Fadel drops: "I don’t like that I miss you."

Fun fact about the word คิดถึง [kít-tĕung]: apart from "to miss", it can also have the meaning of "to think of, to think about". So another possible interpretation and underlying meaning of this line is "I don't like that I think about you."

Something vital that I want to bring up at this point now is something that @secriden has pointed out in her meta:

It's incredibly important that Style waited at this point. Style, who talks endlessly and without thought. Style, who demands that his story and his thoughts are aired first. Style, who has been telling Fadel this lie time and time again before Fadel’s feelings made it true... Stops. Waits. Stays silent. Because Fadel had to get there himself or not at all.

And get there, Fadel did. Fadel has just spilled that he thinks about Style, that he misses him. That Style's efforts have been worth it. That Fadel has started caring the way Style has started to care. Style looks at Fadel, takes it all in.

Style finally understands Fadel's problem, finally understands why Fadel has been acting the way he's been acting.

When Style kisses Fadel, there is so much purpose, so much intent to it. Style has something to say, something important, and every single thing on his mind, every single emotion, he puts it all into that kiss. And what he has to say is:

Yes. The caption in the gif is different from the official English subtitles. Because Style literally says:

มันโอเคนะเว้ย ที่จะมีความรักอ่ะ [man - oh-keh - ná wóiie • thêe - jà - mee kwaam rák - àh] it - okay - [particle] • that - will - be in love - [particle]

And this is a distinction that is important to me personally. Phrasing it as "It's okay to be in love" is by far more specific than "It's okay to love" and I think this particular word choice hits Fadel harder as well. Fadel likes control, he likes knowing exactly what's going on at any given moment. But then Style shows up as a whirlwind in his life, bringing disorder to everything. Fadel is starting to develop feelings that he can't control and it freaks him out.

When Style kissed Fadel in the locker room it was an attack in the battle he was fighting against him. When Style kisses Fadel in the greenhouse, it's for reassurance. Style puts everything he wants to say with "It's okay to be in love" into that line. It's okay to let go. It's okay to let things take their natural course. It's okay to be in love. You're allowed to have feelings. It's not a bad thing. It's okay. It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay.

And with this we go into the parallels to the storage room scene. If you remember my ep3 meta, then you'll remember how I said that Style didn't really mean it at the time when he said he wanted Fadel right before they hook up. This time he didn't say a single word about it, but his actions show that he does want Fadel this time. Once again I'm gonna steal a thought from @clemelntine's meta:

[Style] isn't entirely giving in/passive in the situation, though. He still has a hands on Fadel holding him close/in place, and does seem to want to touch him. No matter how much he wants Fadel to service him, he isn't gonna let him do it all on his own. He too wants to explore Fadel as well.

We can really see that this time around. Unlike in the storage room, Style has his hands all over the place: on Fadel's throat, underneath Fadel's shirt, in Fadel's pants, pulling Fadel closer with his arm around Fadel's neck. What's more, there's significantly more eye contact. Fadel actually looks Style in the eye now. It's still not as much and as intense as in Style's fantasy, because they're still not quite there yet emotionally, but it's a start. They've both started to develop some actual feelings, and this time around they're also both aware of it. Of their own feelings as well as the other's feelings. Where last time they were acting purely on physical attraction, they're much more emotionally involved this time around. Emotionally they're much more on the same page this time around. And it's beautiful.

Also, I haven't seen anyone talk about this yet, but we are all aware that they show us pretty much the entire act from start to, uhhh well, finish, right? Right?? 🫣

No. 8: Be My Boyfriend

Not for the first time Style says he wants Fadel as a boyfriend. Unlike the other times though, Style actually means it this time around. His words are no longer for show, no longer a performance that will be rewarded with Kant's gratitude and his car. Style is being 100% serious about being Fadel's boyfriend. The car is more of an afterthought (and one that he will get to, because a deal is a deal, and he's been in love with the car much longer than he's had any positive feelings for Fadel for, but still. Right there in the woods, I think the car isn't really on his mind at the time).

Style means every flirty thing he says. He means it when he says "You’re mysterious and alluring. You’re quiet, but sexy as hell". If you remember, during the kitchen scene I mentioned that Style wasn't as loud in the flirty things he said, and we can really see that in the aforementioned line and also when he says "[Having a boyfriend is] great. You have someone to embrace, to love, and to…" These lines are much less loud and less performative than compared to everything that came out of his mouth in ep3 on the sports field.

By the way, I need you all to know that this exchange:

F: I’ll stick with jerking off. S: I’m sure.

Actually goes:

F: I can jerk off by myself. กูชักว่าวอยู่เองได้ [guu - chák wâao - yùu - eng - dâai] I - masturbate - be - (by) oneself/myself - be able to S: I know you can do it yourself. รู้ว่ามึงทำเองได้ [rúu wâa - mueng - tam - eng - dâai] know that - you - do - (by) oneself/yourself - be able to

And where did we get a similar exchange before? That's right. In that very scene at the sports field that I just mentioned:

F: If you want it that much, then go jerk off. ถ้าอยากมากเนี่ยก็ไปชักว่าวไป [tâa - yàak - mâak - nîia - gôr - bpai - chák wâao - bpai] if - want - much - [particle] - then - go - masturbate - go S: I know it can be done alone. รู้มันทำคนเดียวได้ [rúu - man - tam - kon diiao - dâai] know - it - do - alone - be able to

The words they say are similar, and yet these two exchanges are very different from one another. Just like in the kitchen, Style's flirting in the woods is much more grounded. It's not the same performance as it was in episode 3. And just as I said in my ep3 meta, it's when Style is being genuine that he actually reaches Fadel, not when he's putting up a show:

The inauthenticity in [Style's] insistent approach is what makes him annoying in those scenes [the running track and the market]. And it's also not what works on Fadel – it's when Style is being genuine that he actually reaches Fadel, like when he was helping him wait tables (which Fadel recognizes by rewarding him with a burger) or when Style was being playfully flirty in the sauna (which results in Fadel fantasizing about him at night).

What's interesting, though, that even though this is the very first time Fadel actually engages in Style's friendly banter and amiable conversation instead of ignoring him or yelling at him or telling him to piss off, at the beginning of the conversation Style doesn't have Fadel quite just yet. Actually, no. That's not accurate. Style is being genuine, has been genuine all episode already and so he does reach Fadel in the beginning of their conversation. Fadel is finally engaging, is finally getting involved. But then Style loses him again at a certain point. And it's specifically when he says:

But isn't it better to have someone like me with you?

Up until this very point, Fadel was mostly turned towards Style. He's smiled, he's laughed, he's rolled his eyes in amusement and he's actively taken part in Style's conversation. He's been more open with Style than he's ever been before. But now? He stares at Style for a moment, then turns away from him, closing himself off from Style again.

And it's interesting that this is happening at this specific point, because their entire conversation has mostly surrounded sex (adjacent) things and physical attraction. They literally start this conversation referencing their hook-up from right before, Style calls Fadel sexy, and then alludes that he wants to sleep with him again. And I think by the time Style says "I know you can [jerk off] by yourself. But isn’t it better to have someone like me with you?" Fadel is at a point where he's like Oh, so you only want to be my boyfriend just so you can do me again, huh? So this is all I am to you, huh?

Fadel isn't cool with that and so he starts to shut himself off from Style again. Style is rejected again. Style turns his head away from Fadel, sighs, raises his eyebrows, and I think he realizes (at least subconsciously) what Fadel is unhappy about, because the next thing he says the moment he's turned back to Fadel is:

What you said to me just now... I feel the same way.

And again, he's being sincere. His voice is calm and grounded, there's not a single trace of his dramatic antics. And that line and coupled with that sincerity has Fadel listening up again:

"Be my boyfriend," Style says and Fadel listens even more closely. "Give me a chance," Style says and Fadel looks away, laughs, and replies "You don’t even know me". Fadel's words are a challenge, but this time there is no malice, no anger, no annoyance in his voice. His voice is soft. Fadel poses a challenge, but it's not an invitation to fight. Or rather, it is an invitation to fight, but it's a very different fight from before. And Style is only happy to take up said challenge: "And what about it? I’ll learn more about you when you’re my boyfriend."

And for what he says next, I'd love to share a more literal translation with you again. In the English subs Style talks about being 100% in and it being Fadel's turn to let him in, which, yeah, it's the gist of it. However, in Thai he uses the word เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai] again, which I've already talked about in my ep3 meta because Style has used that word before during that scene where Fadel hands him the burger. The day after posting that meta, I actually asked my Thai teacher about this word in class (and nearly died in the process) because I hadn't discussed this word with a native speaker for my meta and while I had discussed this word with my Thai language learning buddy after he brought it up when I was trying to explain the German phrase "sich einlassen auf" (@ German speakers: เปิดใจ is very similar to that!), I just couldn't remember it well and wanted to double check just in case. According to my teacher, it's a word that is used to talk about opening up to something or about giving things a chance, but the literal translation is "to open one's heart" (เปิด [bpèrt] = to open / ใจ [jai] = heart, mind) and I think the series makes use of that literal meaning for a nice metaphor/image here. I think Style's choice of words is very deliberate:

I've opened my heart to you 100% already. กูเปิดใจให้มึงร้อยเปอร์เซนต์แล้วนะ [guu - bpèrt-jai - hâi - mueng - rói - bper-sen - láew - ná] I - open up (one's heart) - for, to - you - 100 - percent - already - [particle]

Only you remain. เหลือแค่มึงอ่ะ [lĕuua - kâe - mueng - àh] remain, left - only - you - [particle]

How much will you open your heart to me? จะเปิดใจให้กูมากแค่ไหน [jà - bpèrt-jai - hâi - guu - mâak kâe năi] will - open up (one's heart) - to, for - I/me - how much

Fadel, who has enclosed his heart in thick, high walls, is being asked how many doors leading up to it he is willing to open. Style subtly reminds Fadel that a relationship consists of two people, but leaves the decision of just how close Fadel will let Style get to his heart entirely up to Fadel. Because that's Fadel's choice to make.

While Style is talking, Fadel is listening intently, really taking in Style's words and contemplating them:

He's quiet for a moment after Style is done telling him You have full access to my heart now. I'm willing to give you a chance. I've done my part. The choice is on you now. Will you grant me access to your heart, too? Will you give me a chance as well?

Fadel thinks about it for a bit more, then laughs a small laugh, throws his head back, and goes "Yeah. Fine." Style is confused. Fadel then explicitly agrees to be his boyfriend. Style's eyes widen. He can't believe his ears. He has to ask for confirmation, has to make sure he really heard it right:

We're boyfriends, right? เป็นแฟนกันใช่มั้ย [bpen - faen - gan - châi mái] be - boyfriend, girlfriend - each other, together - right?

Fadel confirms. Style is absolutely over the moon and showers Fadel in kisses.

Do I think they're already in love? Not exactly. Unfortunately, I just don't have the time to look at Fadel as closely as I have been looking at Style (I need 48h days fr 😭😭) but when it comes to Style, I think even if he's not in love just yet, this is the start of something real. We saw in episode 3 that he was starting to develop positive feelings towards Fadel, was starting to genuinely have a good time hanging around Fadel, but he still had ulterior motives in the foreground of his mind. I think when he hooked up with Fadel in the storage room that kicked off something within him because, as I've made very clear in my ep3 meta, to Style sex isn't just sex. Because if it was, his journey this episode would have been going very differently. But throughout this entire episode Style has cared, he has cared so much to the point he's gotten really hurt. And his joy when Fadel agrees to be his boyfriend? That's real. And I don't think it's because he's about to receive the car of his dreams as a reward. If it was, I think Style would have been much more smug about Fadel agreeing to be his boyfriend, would have been much more self-satisfied underneath all that happiness. But Style's joy here is pure. And he doesn't brag about finally "winning" Fadel over, doesn't hold it over his head in a smug HAH, you gave in to me, I'm the one who won our battle of wills, look how cool I am sort of way. Style's joy is real, but what he's feeling is not quite love at this point. But so what if they're not in love just yet? Like Style said: They can get to know each other fall in love when they're boyfriends.

No. 8: Apollo's Ball Of Prophecy Is Real

Remember how a couple of paragraphs ago I said the car was just an afterthought, that Style would still get to? Well, he's getting to it now. He shows up at Kant's place and "When should I come and get your car?" is the first thing out of his mouth right after his hellos. Kant reminds Style of their deal and asks if Fadel has agreed to be Style's boyfriend. Style says "yes", shining brightly as the sun as he says this. And the way he shines while dropping this info to Kant makes me once again think that his happiness here is more focused on Fadel rather than the car. Style is a little smug now, but it's mostly before Kant mentions the words "Fadel" and "faen" together in one single sentence (yes, I had to go with the Thai word for boyfriend just for the alliteration lol). When Style says yes, Fadel is in fact his boyfriend now, the subtext I'm hearing is not something along the lines of Yeah, I finally got him, so where's my beloved car at, bro, we had a deal???? but what I'm hearing is more like Yes!! He is!! Can you believe!! Fadel is my BOYFRIEND!! Omg!! I did it!! Just like we'll see in the flashback to the "be my boyfriend" scene right after, there is something rather pure about Style's complete and utter joy at the thought of Fadel being his boyfriend.

Style relays the "be my boyfriend" conversation to Kant and it's only after that that Style really starts bragging: "Your best friend is a genius, isn’t he? I told you I can get anyone." And yeah, undeniably this is about the fact that he's getting a car out of it, but I also think that he would have bragged about it even if the deal with the car didn't exist. Kant and Style seem to have the sort of friendship where they always brag to each other about their love lives. We were shown this in episode 1 when Kant goes to see Style at the garage and Style immediately asks for the tea on his night with Bison, pretty much begging Kant to brag about it when Kant tries to change the topic to something else. Style would have bragged about Fadel to Kant no matter what. Besides, why wouldn't he go get the car, despite actual feelings being involved now? A deal is a deal, and if he can get the car of his dreams and the boyfriend of his dreams out of it, that's even better. Best of both worlds. Who wouldn't say no to that?

But Style's happiness gets smacked right out of him via Apollo's ball of prophecy as he learns that he should really be very careful what he jokes about. He almost spoke Fadel taking him out to the woods to kill him into existence. Fadel is a hitman. Style's panic gets the better of him. He has seen, felt on his own body even what Fadel is capable of. He doesn't like Fadel that much yet, so he's outta there before he gets to experience first hand the real depths of what Fadel can be capable of if Style gets too annoying. Car be damned. Style may be unhinged but he isn't suicidal.

Kant, however, manages to talk Style into helping him and staying with Fadel anyway. Now, you could say Style is unhinged for agreeing to help Kant instead of firmly refusing his request and getting out of this mess before it gets worse, but I think in that moment Style is genuinely afraid that Fadel WILL kill him if Style breaks up with him, breaks his heart right after Fadel has finally, finally given him closer access to it. And Style has had to work very hard for said access, so he knows very well how big that decision was for Fadel to entrust Style with just a little bit of his heart. And if Style then goes and breaks that little bit of Fadel's heart that he was given in the very next moment? That's a death sentence on Style's head right there.

And another reason why I think Style agrees to continue working for Kant's mission is that Style likes to help. I've already touched on this in my ep3 meta:

Style likes to help. We see this in the way he agrees to help his best friend by hitting on some weirdo guy (yes, of course he's also getting a car out of this deal, but I think part of the reason why he agrees to the deal is also because he genuinely wants to help Kant find love), we see this in the way he immediately takes orders from customers no questions asked in episode 2 right before he meets Bison, and we'll see this even later this episode [ep3] when he throws himself into the fight despite having no fighting skills whatsoever, just because he thinks three against one is unfair and wants to help.

Helping people is something that comes easy to Style, something he doesn't really have to think about, and so when Kant practically begs him to help Style can't do anything but agree to help Kant because not helping would go entirely against the nature of his character. Also, who could resist First's puppy eyes? Valid, absolutely valid. I, too, would fold like thin paper if First looked at me like That.

No. 9: Over Your Limit

Style is at the gym, probably in an attempt to work off some of the overwhelming emotions that Kant's reveal has left him with. What's interesting is, as @secriden noted, that Style decided to go there during daytime. From episode 2, both we, the audience, as well as Style know that Fadel likes to go to the gym at night specifically to avoid crowds. It's probably safe to assume that Style went there during the day specifically in order to avoid Fadel.

So Style sits there, lost in his memories, recontextualizing everything that happened at the greenhouse, processing Kant's news, rethinking his decision. Unfortunately for him, he's already made his choice the moment he agreed to help Kant, and so in the end Style goes Fuck it, I'm doing this.

Unexpectedly, Fadel shows up. Style hadn't been mentally prepared for that and despite his fuck it attitude just mere seconds ago (17, to be exact), his instincts kick in and he panics. Everything within him is screaming at him get away from this man, your life is in danger and so Style immediately rejects Fadel's offer for help: "I can’t do it anyway. I was pushing my limits."

Style is pushing his limits. Hitting on a guy? Sure, that's fine. Making him his boyfriend, despite said guy having walls as thick as the Great Wall of China? A little challenge, but nothing Style can't handle. But dating someone who is a professional killer, someone who is capable of taking lives and might very well be capable of taking his own boyfriend's life if need may be? That really is pushing any limit Style could ever have even as much as dreamed of. He can't do it.

But despite every instinct within Style telling him to run away, Style doesn't, because that would be suspicious and Style can't risk Fadel getting suspicious because that would seal his deathly fate even quicker. So Style hesitantly leans back and lets Fadel help him. And here at this point, I just wanna give a little shout out to Style raising his eyebrows and sighing a little after they're done, like whew, I survived that, I'm still alive, because it makes me giggle:

When Fadel alludes to wanting to have sex, Style plays dumb. Style has used this strategy before when he wanted to find out the connection between Fadel and the host club, but where in ep3 Style was playing dumb in order to gain Fadel's trust, here at the gym Style is playing dumb in order to delay having to get close to Fadel again (much less sleeping with him) while he figures out a way to get out of it. When Fadel cuddles up to him, it's the last straw. Style's panic takes over for good and he makes an escape. But then Fadel calls out to him, asking him to wait. Shit. Style's fight for his life is not yet over. Style stops, trying not to be suspicious or to do anything else that would give Fadel a motive to kill him.

Fadel walks up to him and wipes the sweat of his face. Where before Fadel's touch has recently been making Style feel good, it now feels very threatening instead. Yet, at the same time it's also a kind and caring gesture, which is something that isn't lost on Style.

Style very much notices the care in Fadel's action, but his new perspective on Fadel makes it hard for him to embrace and appreciate the kindness of it. And the kindness and care also contradicts the image of the ruthless killer Style now has in his mind of Fadel. These two contrasting aspects simply do not go together. Unable to cope, Style runs off.

The Attempt of a Conclusion

Where Style had just a little bit of a problem at the beginning of the episode, by the end of it that problem has grown much larger than he could have ever anticipated. Over the course of episode 3 we saw that Style was slowly starting to develop some positive feelings for Fadel, was slowly starting to actively enjoy hanging out around him, was starting to get curious about Fadel of his own accord and not for motives connected to the deal. Yet, the deal was still very much always there. In episode 4, however? Style might not have entirely realized it yet, but that deal is no longer relevant to him. Not showing up to the morning jogging or at the market might still have been a planned strategy in the mission Kant gave him, but that mission goes right out the window the moment he hears that Fadel had asked about him. When Style goes running to Fadel the second he is told that Fadel had asked about him when actually Style could and probably should have played his game a little longer, really letting Fadel stew, from that moment onward it's all about Style's own feelings rather than the car. And everything he does this episode is led by those feelings. Over the course of this episode we see that Style has genuinely started to like Fadel. And he had to. He had to start liking Fadel before learning about Fadel's real job. Because the higher you are, the further you fall and Style accidentally having caught feelings makes the drop down worse, for both Style, the character as well as us, the audience. Style genuinely likes Fadel now, and if that wasn't enough of a problem already, the man he likes turns out to be a professional killer.

Crap, indeed.

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10)

#the heart killers #fadelstyle #stylefadel #thk meta #adrm #thk #thk ep4 #thk style #my meta #thkmetamine #i really tried to get this out BEFORE ep5 dropped but then i ended up having many thoughts again dfkjd #actually the most time-consuming part was figuring out how to PHRASE these thoughts in a way that it makes sense #rather than just vomiting a jumble of words into the post #that's why it took me so long #ALSO I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I HAD ALL OF IT UP UNTIL AND INCLUDING THE ''BE MY BF'' SCENE WRITTEN OUT *BEFORE* I SAW EP5 #LET ME TELL YOU THE WAY I SCREAMED WHEN EP5 PRETTY MUCH VALIDATED MY READING ON STYLE IN EP4💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻#the theme of ep3 is style starting to feel positively about fadel #the theme of ep4 is style genuinely starting to LIKE like fadel #the theme of ep5 is style falling in love #and i can't WAIT to start writing about that one hehehe #can i make it in the span of 4 days is the question rip #less actually since tuesday is christmas and i have a visitor

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psychomusic · 5 months ago

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oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon. her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

#i overdeveloped this part of the background. IT'S QUITE LITERALLY USELESS. like. Vegoia will have so few memories of it (she'll become jedi)#i will make a post about her too when I'll finish designing her and outlining her story BUT that may be difficult cuz the frame for the mai #story is quite difficult to match with how developed the other stories are getting and i have to figure it Much Stuff yet #so I'm using these post to like. fix a certain part lf the lore because even my own notes are getting older and messy. better to start over #ANYWAY for those curious & who are still reading (if u exist. WTF THANK U!!); my main story is actually a research file in the jedi archive #BASICALLY i was trying to write my own story for years but then i watched a video (tcw doesn't hold up by sheev talks i think) and i finall #understood how to frame all of these stories together in a way that i feel can add to the star wars lore (because. the others were just #like. okay but who cares unless me? and i did want to have a cool frame that maybe some nerd would be interested in looking into)#so: when ahsoka anakin and obi return from mortis; they tell the council about it (yoda knows about it in s6). sheev talks complained that #it was incredibly full of stuff that was done so poorly it could ruin a big part of the original sw story itself and it was never brought u #again. and honestly i agree. SO my story is about a jedi that is tasked with research on the celestials & by having him figure out stuff i #can minimize/limit/reframe some of the controversial things in there (i love mortis arc so bad but i also agree with his critic. I'll Fix™)#so. many stories will be about people who have previously seen the celestials or have been to mortis one way or another (pre-tcw obv) & hav #had experience & knowledge that the researcher is looking for. so i get to have an anthology with many stories #and have a cool frame I'm intrested in developing + i can experiment with different storytelling styles depending on how he finds out stuff #+ there was another sw story with a similar frame i think? so if i decide to write the story as if it was the file itself and not the searc #i can have even a REFERENCE of what a file like that is supposed to be. LIKE. IT ALL FITS!!!#sw #star wars #swtor #the old republic #star wars oc #imperial agent #star wars fanart #mirialan oc #mirialan #star wars story #star wars the old republic #oc: suri sauthon

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ghostofsnails · 1 month ago

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so did you guys know theres this character called tristan vik disventure camp and

#disventure camp #disventure camp fanart #tristan vik #disventure camp tristan #ghostofsnails #my art #It would be SO tedious to post all of these separately but to be honest ive been dead for so long that i think its just funnier like this #like. yeah. just in case you guys have been wondering what i've been up to.#I have like 2 more i think but i'll give them their own post so i can explain them #ive never hyperfixated on a character like this in my entire life. usually a character hyperfix is super intense and lasts like 2ish weeks.#GUYS ITS BEEN 2+ MONTHS. AND I STILL CANT THINK ABOUT ANYTHING EXCEPT FOR CARTOON GOTH NONBINARY SILLY PERSON #actually fuck you can i write an essay in tags about why i love them. this is tumblr. and whose even gonna read this anyways. fukit we ball #i followed dc kinda casually as a guilty pleasure for a while but i was instantly drawn to tristan when the designs for the s4 cast dropped #i was like You're telling me there's a GOTH who is UPBEAT and isnt designed like a flawless elf TWINK and is NONBINARY? ME FR????#LIKE OHH THE GOTH NB GETS TO LOOK A LITTLE WEIRD. THEY GET TO BE UNCONVENTIONAL. my aesthetic attraction to them goes crazy. vampire style.#i remember when they got revealed people redesigned them to look more generically pretty & it PAINED ME bc it missed the point SO. BADLY.#ik some people find them boring also & even tho i disagree i can see it if u dont rlly care abt alt stuff. but for me the fact theyre so #kind & upbeat & extroverted WHILE being a SUBCULTURAL GOTH is the draw bc while i do get a kick out of the exaggerated depressed goth #stereotype - its not exactly true to life and so seeing a character that looks and acts like me and real goths makes feel so seen and happy #they also capture my desire to have goth friends SO BADLY im projecting on them SO HARD. They are such top tier friend material you guys...#AND THEYRE A FASHION DESIGNER WHICH FEELS SO IN THEME WITH BEING GOTH THAT IT MAKES ME SO JOYOUS AND CRAZY.#its all so funny because im 100x more excited about getting good goth rep than nonbinary rep LMFAOOO but them being nb is SO important too #Not to mention their voice actor is FANTASTIC and elevates them SOOO MUCH. Also the amount the va is obsessed with them fed my obsession -#sooo insanely you guys.... i feed off of other peoples emotional attachments. AND THEIR ACTING FOR TRIS ADDS SO MUCH DEPTH TO THEIR #CHARACTER IF YOU LOOK FOR IT. I COULD LITERALLY WRITE ESSAYS ABOUT TRISTAN YOU GUYS. IM NOT INSANE.#god you guys this is the first time ive ever had a genuine “i feel seen” feeling from a fictional character I KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE NOW.#i LOVE NONBINARY PEOPLE EXPRESSING THEMSELVES. I LOVE HOW QUEERNESS AND GOTH CULTURE INTERSECTS AND HOW THATS REPRESENTED IN TRISTAN #THEY MEAN SO MUCH TO ME. AND I KNOW THEY MEAN SO MUCH TO SO MANY OTHER PEOPLE. WHICH JUST MAKES THEM MEAN EVEN MORE TO ME. I LOVE LIFE.#its an endless feedback loop i fear. im trapped in it & loving every second. i will be drawing them until i am in my grave & maybe after.

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writinganon1 · 1 month ago

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@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up?

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon.

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth.

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick.

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it?

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best.

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again.

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness.

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes.

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman.

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop.

Away.

All she needed to do was get away.

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong?

It didn’t happen this way.

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out.

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete.

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose.

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor.

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?”

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing.

Away.

She needed to get away.

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away.

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word.

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass.

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster.

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.”

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something?

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog.

“Kendra?”

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out.

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight.

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair.

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally.

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm.

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing.

It hurt. It hurt so bad.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.”

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud.

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook.

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation.

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble.

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles.

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths.

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?”

She was in the middle of dying.

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now.

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.”

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic.

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?”

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up.

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.”

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away.

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?”

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?”

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted.

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room.

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul.

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms.

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm.

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm.

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle.

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her.

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?”

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static.

“I need details.” He pressed.

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.”

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time.

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.”

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach.

“Are we feeling more alive?”

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side.

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.”

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.”

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed.

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered.

“Then neither is yours.”

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?”

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly.

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.”

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.”

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.”

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.”

“Positive?”

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible.

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed.

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.”

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron.

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.”

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep.

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair.

She was home. And she was safe.

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

#Me and my friend were hanging out and she got all excited when I told her I was minoring in creative writing #she asked for me to read me some of my stuff and I agreed LIKE AN IDOIT #well i open my docs and low and behold it's what I posted yesterday #mind you that doc is titled ugly sewer man and his pretty wife #i scroll before she can see the title but at this point I have to read this one #its too late for me to exit the doc without me being suspicious #I read it and she's all like “Well butter my backside and call me a biscuit I forgot you wrote but you do a pretty dang good job!”#I'm just sweating bullets coz I just read her my fanfic of Donatello the ninja turtle and Kendra the dragon chick #she'll never know and I'll never tell her that she was read kendratello fanfic with the names and some of the words replaced #its worth it to say that this isn't the first time that this has happened with her #last time it was the freaking really long one with Leo dying dead and Don also trying to die dead #i went home and cooked myself some pasta to recover because wtf was that #and I was so upset by the situation that instead of sleeping I wrote more kendratello fanfic?#pee pee poo poo #caca dodo even #FOUR AM BABY AND IM STILL HEREEEEEE #Ya'll also got some free stuff to use to help a hommie out if they ever start having a panic attack #tapping method will work on yourself as well if you start feeling freaked out or not in your body.#just cross your arms over your torso and put your left hand on your right shoulder and vice versa tapping your shoulders one at a time #im sleepin now #gn yall #Paige writes

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withthewindinherfootsteps · 8 months ago

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So we know that Wei Wuxian's treatment after his death was horrible. Even if nothing could impact him directly, there was still neverending slander, hatred, misinformation, theft...

But, for a while after he died, the sects did try to impact him directly – namely, frequently trying to resummon his soul. And today I'll explore the possible reasons for this, their likelihoods, and why I'm so, so thankful that Wei Wuxian's soul managed to resist the summons. Because, spoiler alert (or, you know. maybe not)... none of them are good.

(Long meta ahead)

In my opinion, there are four likely motivations for this: confinement, coercion, torment, and potentially destruction.

Out of all of these, confinement is probably the most likely motivation, at least for most sects (Jins and Jiangs excluded, though it was likely what the Jin sect said their motivations were – but I'll get to them later). This one is the most simple – we know spirit-trapping pouches exist, and we know the sects also placed 120 stone beasts on the Burial Mounds to prevent Wei Wuxian's soul from escaping. Therefore, this seems to be the most likely motivation – and fortunately for Wei Wuxian, probably also the best case scenario, though it still certainly isn't a good one.

For the second, coercion – this is where the Jin sect come in (more specifically Jin Guangshan with the help of Jin Guangyao). Due to their wealth and resources, they're likely the sect who played the largest role in the soul-summoning rituals. We know what they're willing to do to try to gain power – keeping Wen Ning under the pretence he was burned to death and trying to control him with the nails, and working with and helping Xue Yang torture people to help him refine his demonic cultivation, in order to have the Yin hufu fixed. Along with working with many other cultivators, alongside Xue Yang – Jin Guangshan really, really wanted that seal.

And so, Jin GuangShan sought after all those who imitated Wei WuXian in cultivating the ghostly path and gathered them under his rule. He spent a great amount of money and resources and these people, ordering them to study and analyze the structure of the Tiger Seal in secrecy so that they could replicate and restore it. - Villainous Friends extra, EXR

(Note that working with these cultivators very likely happened after Wei Wuxian's soul had failed to be summoned, since this happens some time after Wei Wuxian's death, whereas the soul-summoning ceromonies presumably started happening very close to it.)

In the previous paragraph, he's also quoted as having 'lusted after' the Yin hufu, which we already knew but it's nice to have a direct quote as evidence.

Now, would Wei WuXian willingly work with the Jin sect in doing this? No. We know that, and, given Wei Wuxian's actions in his first life (refusing to hand over the Tally, not being afraid to stand up to the sects, etc), I’m pretty sure Jin Guangshan knows that, too:

He beat around the bush a couple of times, using all his skills, yet Wei WuXian didn’t give in no matter what, and it made him run into a bunch of obstacles. - Villainous Friends extra, EXR

So this could actually make things go two ways. One, I'm wrong and that wasn't actually part of the Jin sect's motivations, since they know they wouldn't be able to control him (and in that case, had they managed to summon him, I could imagine them putting him in a spirit-trapping pouch and doing something similar to what Jin Guangyao did to Nie Mingjue's head. Which, also, not good). Two, it was a part of their motivations, and they hoped to find a way around that. After all, there are other guidao users out there now, and Wei Wuxian would now be a gui*. Also, cultivators can obviously harm ghosts – see the very existence of Night Hunts, and I'd include Xue Yang's talisman-caused destruction of A-Qing as well (while he isn't a traditional cultivator, talismans can be used by everyone).

Now, would either of these methods actually work? I'm inclined to think not really (and I expand on the former method in a note below). Would that stop Jin Guangshan/Jin Guangyao/the cultivators they employ from trying? Especially considering Jin Guangshan's lust for power?

I'm inclined to think no, too.

For the third, look no further than Jiang Cheng's reputation of capturing and torturing demonic cultivators after Wei Wuxian's death, due to thinking they could be him. And this does happen – Jin Ling knows and talks about it, and there's not real motivation for him to negatively lie about someone he loves. Also, when they come across each other at Dafan Mountain, we're told this in Jiang Cheng's inner voice:

A moment ago, Jiang Cheng was certain that this person was Wei WuXian, and all of the blood in his body started to boil. Yet, now, Zidian was clearly telling him that he wasn’t. Zidian definitely wouldn’t deceive him or make a mistake, so he quickly calmed himself and thought, this doesn’t mean anything. I should first find an excuse to take him back and use every possible method to get information out of him. It’s impossible for him to not confess anything or give himself away. I’ve done things like this in the past anyways. - MDZS Chapter 10, EXR translation

This mainly shows that he's tortured people before, rather than that he's tortured people because he thinks they're Wei Wuxian, but this reason is confirmed by Jin Ling in Chapter 24. Of course, the reason is also mentioned in this chapter, and there are other moments in the chapter that illustrate my point better**, but they come from second-hand sources which I know are easier to deny. Do take note of Jiang Cheng's expression both times he comes across 'Mo Xuanyu' (after he suspects he's Wei Wuxian) in Book One***, though:

After a moment, the corners of Jiang Cheng’s lips pulled into a twisted smile. His left hand started to unconsciously stroke the ring [Zidian] again. He spoke softly, “… Well, well. So you’re back?” - Chapter 10, EXR Although his face had always been clouded, marked with arrogance and satire, it seemed as if every corner of it had come alive. It was difficult to determine whether it was vengeful wrath, fathomless hatred, or raving ecstasy. - Chapter 23, EXR

This does seem to line up with what people say his attitude to Wei Wuxian is – there doesn't seem to be any happiness at seeing him again at all. The only time a word that could suggest that ('ecstasy') is used, it's accompanied by 'raving', and considering the context and the other possibilities of his expression, it's... probably not due to happiness at being reunited.

So, considering 1) this, 2) his contribution to the Siege specifically intended to kill Wei Wuxian, and 3) that at the time of frequent soul-summoning Jiang Yanli's death would be even closer for him, I feel pretty confident in saying that yes, this is likely a motivation for the Jiang sect in trying to re-summon Wei Wuxian's soul after his death. And, as mentioned earlier, cultivators can harm ghosts (and we know Zidian is able to remove souls posessing a body from that body, and that Jiang Cheng used Zidian on 'Mo Xuanyu' in Chapter 10. If it wasn't able to restrain/harm ghosts, or other methods weren't able to, why would he risk Wei Wuxian's soul escaping?).

And finally, option four: destruction. We're heading into much more speculative territory here, so don't consider this on par with the first three. But consider this:

We know there are some spells, like Xue Yang's talisman used on A-Qing and the body-offering ritual, that can ruin the returning soul’s reincarnation cycle by destroying it. Therefore, soul destruction is possible.

The 'main'/supposed reason for summoning Wei Wuxian's soul back is to stop the "cultivation world, or even all of mortal land" from being "faced with the most insane damnation and revenge, sinking into nothing but chaos and despair" when Wei Wuxian inevitably returns. While, as mentioned above, I severely doubt this is the motivation for certain sects – and to me is likely a rumour which the Jins (again, especially Jin Guangsha) fanned the flames of to justify summoning Wei Wuxian back for their own purposes**** – there are other sects which would take it more seriously.

Although likely disrespectful, people already thought it served Wei Wuxian right to die without his body intact by the time of the second siege – something believed to negatively affect your reincarnation in your next life*****. This is only the logical next step, and I'm pretty sure the vast majority of people would believe that, again, it would serve Wei Wuxian right, or would at least lead to less harm of the world in the long run.

For these reasons, I could definitely see this as an option for some sects, especially the sects who consider themselves more 'righteous' (cough cough the Nies under Nie Mingjue cough cough). After all, evil is evil and good is good, and the evil deserve what's coming to them. And what better way to prevent that than from preventing his soul from returning at all? So for the Nie sect – and likely some of the smaller sects involved in the Siege, since among them, additudes probably vary – yes, I do think it could be a motivation.

I’m not as sure about the Lans being willing to go this far, and that’s largely for two reasons. One, Lan Wangji’s presence and his relationship to Lan Xichen, who does (not always, but he does) let this affect how he treats Wei Wuxian. An example of this is that, when Wei Wuxian's return is made public, Lan Xichen does let him hide and shelter at the Cloud Recesses instead of trying to pursue him, likely majorly due to Lan Wangji. I'd argue that the aftermath of the Nightless City also acts as an example of this, although it definitely isn't perfect. But though he, Lan Qiren and the 33 elders do come to find Lan Wangji and do not let him continue to shelter Wei Wuxian (after they see Lan Wangji's feelings), Lan Xichen doesn't use this opportunity to kill/capture Wei Wuxian, despite Lan Wangji being in a worse condition due to having fought 33 elders, Wei Wuxian being catatonic, and Lan Qiren likely supporting this outcome (especially considering he was the one who led the Lan sect in the Siege – chapter 68, Wei Wuxian's POV). And he did let Lan Wangji take Wei Wuxian back to the Burial Mounds after:

After he went out of his way to send you back to Burial Mound and returned in such low spirits to receive his punishment, how long he kneeled before the Wall of Rules! - Chapter 99, EXR

Again, this was right after the Nightless City massacre – there isn't any goodwill towards Wei Wuxian at this point in time.

Of course, the Lan sect did participate in the siege after Lan Xichen knew of Lan Wangji's feelings towards Wei Wuxian, which Lan Xichen was no doubt a part of (although Lan Qiren lead the Lan sect in the siege, Lan XIchen had to have at least known/given his support, if not participated.) And it should be considered that Lan Xichen letting Wei Wuxian shelter at the Cloud Recesses was after Wei Wuxian had been back for a while, and had not caused the downfall of the Cultivation World, like many suspected he would after his death. And of course, as stated previously, his handling of the aftermath of Nightless City wasn't perfect either (though please note that his main motive here was to protect Lan Wangji from being potentially executed, rather than anything about Wei Wuxian himself). So caring about Lan Wangji doesn't mean he won't harm Wei Wuxian. But I do think he could find bringing Wei Wuxian's soul back to completely destroy it a bit excessive. There is, though, the chance that the elders of the Lan Sect would react to this differently, and of course they would have a sway on both Lan Xichen and the Lan sect as well.

The second reason is smaller, but there seems to be more focus in the Lan sect than in others when it comes to letting ghosts rest peacefully/helping them move on. And that could definitely lead to more resistance to the idea of summoning a soul back to destroy it as well, which could especially impact the elders. So I'd assume that the Lan sect would be the most likely sect to summon Wei Wuxian's soul back just for confinement, or just for some way of making sure any resentment is disippated, his spirit moves on, and he can't cause more harm to the world (eg via Inquiry)******. Not that he would or does as a ghost or as a reborn person, but that's unfortunately not relevant to this.

But yes, as a motivation for the Nie Mingjue-led Nie sect? Absolutely.

So, these are the main motives I suspect to be behind the attempted summoning of Wei Wuxian's soul after his death (and if I've missed any, please let me know – I'd love to have a discussion). And, of course, none of them lead to anywhere good. Because of course it wasn’t enough to besiege Wei Wuxian, murder the 50 non-combatants he was responsible for (and throwing them into the blood pit as a mark of disrespect because why not?), and lead to his death via him getting torn apart. It wasn’t enough to steal all his inventions, and use them commonly while still slandering him with no reprieve – or to steal his notes and give them to people like Xue Yang to study (Villainous Friends, again) and to use for their own, extremely extremely harmful, purposes. Of course, the cultivation world has to try to harm Wei Wuxian after death as well ((:

We don't know whether Wei Wuxian rejecting the summoning ceremonies was conscious or unconscious, but if it was the former, these are very likely reasons he refused to return in this way. If it was unconscious – for example, maybe during the frequent soul-summons his soul was in a weakened state due to him dying from a backlash of resentful energy and getting torn apart, and it healed over time but not before the soul-summoning rituals stopped – well, I can only be thankful.

Finally, let me leave you on the thought that – although it may well have happened since we don't spend much time in the immediate aftermath of the Sunshot campaign – there isn't even any textual mention of this happening to Wen Ruohan. Who, while not being a guidao user, was still very dangerous, still an extremely powerful cultivator, and still had a lot of reason to feel resentment. So.

:')

Thank you for reading!

*Considering what we see of how Wei Wuxian's guidao functions – redirecting the ghosts'/corpses' resentment into doing something they'd want to do, eg attacking people, and directing it towards a target – I'm not sure using it to force a spirit to do something 1) extremely specific, and 2) explicitly against their will would actually work. Iirc the closest thing we get to this in text is Wei Wuxian using the corpses of Wens to attack other Wens in the Sunshot Campaign, but he's still just directing their resentment to a target of his choice, and fierce corpses do tend to be on the less concious side of things (hence why Wei Wuxian had to awaken Wen Ning's consciousness). Considering how Wen Ning attacks Wei Wuxian and the Burial Mound Wens before his consciousness had fully awoken, I... really don't think those fierce corpses were able to differentiate (or didn't care).

Meanwhile, ghosts seem to be a bit more in control of themselves – see A-Qing, and Wei Wuxian's own descriptions of his ghost self.

That, alongside ghost!Wei Wuxian being able to resist his soul-summoning and the fact that pretty much all of the new guidao users are a lot weaker than he was, does make me think that this this wouldn't work. I do wonder about Xue Yang, since his methods are pretty different as well, but he's more of a modao user than a guidao user (he controls living corpses rather than dead people) and I don't think you can insert physical nails into ghosts?? Though if he was specifically instructed to figure out some way to control ghost!Wei Wuxian (who's probably kept in a spirit-trapping pouch in this scenario), he might be able to do something at least. Though also he was also struggling to piece Xiao Xingchen's ghost soul back together, so he may struggle with those areas?

Well, whatever the potential outcome, I'm so so happy once again that Wei Wuxian's soul managed to resist the soul-summonings...

**Mainly this:

Everyone in the cultivation world knew that the young leader of the Jiang Clan watched out for Wei WuXian in an almost crazed manner. He would rather catch the wrong person than let go of any possibility, and took anyone who seemed like they held the soul of Wei WuXian away to the YunmengJiang Sect, inflicting severe torture on his victim. If he wanted to take someone back, the opposition would surely lose half of their life. - Chapter 10, EXR

But I have heard people say 'you can't prove that it's just more rumours' before, and I wanted my evidence to be as watertight as possible.

(And, off-topic... isn't it really sad how Jiang Cheng, in the present day, is described as young? Because, for a clan leader, he is. And another thing he is, is close in age to Wei Wuxian – who was killed 13 whole years prior :') )

***And do note that the only other time they run into each other before Wei Wuxian's identity is revealed to the world apart from this is their brief interaction at Jinlintai, where he can't just act however he wants. The next time they run into each other after it, Jiang Cheng is literally taking part in another siege against him, and still extremely hostile ("surrounded by hostile energy, face insidious, staring straight at him" – from EXR chapter 60). Then he loses his spiritual powers and can't do anything. By the time he regains his powers, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and the Wen remnants' corpses have saved everyone during the Second Siege, and though public opinion hasn't properly shifted quite yet, it will soon after Sisi and Bicao tell the story of Jin Guangyao, and voila, a new scapegoat (do note that he doesn't completely bar Wei Wuxian from entering Lotus Pier after the Second Siege, though). Plus, throughout it all, Lan Wangji is still constantly present, which makes it hard for Jiang Cheng to really do anything. And then he's finally faced with the Golden Core reveal, which does alter his motivations towards Wei Wuxian (obviously the resentment is still there – read chapter 102 – but it's also mixed with other complex emotions, and he seems to start being able to move away from that a little in Chapter 103). I still definitely wouldn't describe Jiang Cheng's attitude towards him as positive, but it isn't at the point it was at the start of the novel (eg Chapter 10).

But even if his attitude does change, or would for whatever other reason apart from the reveal, that still doesn't change an initial motivation so isn't relevant to this meta. We know his intentions at the start.

****It's also possible they may have originated it, but I think WWX's reputation was bad enough for it to form naturally. Though you can trace a major part of that back to them, too.

*****That belief isn't outright stated in MDZS, but the fact people are specifically talking about the status of WWX's body in the aftermath of his death suggests that this belief does have some grounding in the MDZS universe, at least? And we know MXTX has included it in TGCF (though that doesn't mean it's definitely in MDZS), so she has used it in her works. If this isn't the case in the MDZS universe I am sorry (although that could also mean there's less importance placed on not disturbing the reincarnation cycle in the world of MDZS...? Which would work towards my original argument) – I don't want to spread misinformation that something is definitely true, I just think there's evidence to suggest it is true, which isn't the same thing.

******Again, I think this would depend on who ends up having more influence over who in the Lan sect. After all, normal resentful spirits only do what they do because of their resentment in death, whereas Wei Wuxian is 'dangerous' because of who everyone thinks he was in life – so him being reborn naturally could also 'cause a lot of harm to the world' during the time period this version of him would live in, unlike the resentful ghosts they appease. This could definitely lead to many advocating for confinement, I think.

#writing this takes me back to my nie huaisang one #'detective metas' i'd call both of them #as opposed to analysis of characters or themes #it may be less 'meaningful' but it's still fun to explore and speculate within a world you love #...albeit maybe not for this one because. mdzs jianghu when i get my hands on you-#also i fully acknowledge i may be wrong #but again i'd love to have discussions about these! debates and knowledge exchange are what leads to better understanding of source materia #which is a major goal of mine in writing these #mdzs meta #my meta #wei wuxian #mdzs cultivation world #long post #mo dao zu shi #gdc #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #魔道祖师 #mxtx #detective meta #<– if i ever make this a tag #also i feel like you could write a fic (angsty or not so angsty depending on where you go with it) where the lan sect somehow-#-summons ghost!wwx back (not sure how bc the jin and jiang sects would probably want 'custody' of him more - and i don't think summoning-#-rituals are done by just one sect at a time? but imagine it happens) and idk he's kept in a spirit-trapping pouch or sth #lwj probably isn't told bc of what happened after nightless city - elders can't really trust him in matters to do with wwx #but maybe lxc feels bad for him or sth (especially bc he's mourning him and stuff + what happened after he found out wwx was dead)#and tells him and maybe brings wwx's soul to him for a bit so wwx can respond to inquiry #and they talk and obv. wwx is NOT happy with the situation (both rn and yk bc of the VERY RECENT SIEGE)#but but but! the thing that would stop this being completely depressing is that LWJ HAS A-YUAN SO WWX FINDS OUT HE SURVIVED #also lwj's injuries would likely come up at SOME point which would lead to wwx finding out abt nightless city afermath #AA NOO THE TAGS WENT ON FOR SO MUCH LONGER BUT I GUESS TUMBLR DOESN'T ALLOW SO MANY i'll have to make another post...

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1singulargrape · 1 month ago

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@luminescent-cow (frantic) I love the way you worded this because it reminds me of 2 of my favorite art pieces that I think fits sukuita in a way (it's probably the brainrot but wtv)

"The anatomy of a hug" by Luna Lu

"this is what love feels like I think" by sardineslayer_ on twt

sharing one heart and one mind in addition to one soul... it makes me a bit insane and I want to grab these two and smash them together until they're indistinguishable from one another <3

#my post #sukuita #god I ADORE the ambiguity of their relationship you can tell me that they're actually the same person and I'll just say 'yeah that tracks'#some of my favorite flavor of them are the ones that make them gods with very ambiguous origins and relationship #with the myths being so muddled and confusing that they seem to be parent and child lovers and the same entity all at once #not sure i'm still on track here but wtv #fun fact! I was thinking about anatomy of a hug when writing the fourth segment of the last fic i posted #but i think i completely failed to express the feelings i wanted to in this part #it is what it is. i'll get better #Honestly just looking at these pieces makes me inspired to draw something #the 2 of them hugging with the outline of their superposed hearts making it look like there's only one...#ah... I don't think I'm good enough to draw it #reminds me of a DIFFERENT fanart of them hugging with Yuuji's hand going through Sukuna's hollowed chest-

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ruvviks · 1 month ago

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– Beginnings.

Characters >> Lily Castellanos, Nathan Dixon (oc), Sebastian Castellanos Total >> 3.5k words Warnings >> Alcohol mention Context >> The first chapter of my own TEW3, taking place some months after the conclusion of the in-game events of TEW2! You can read more about it all here!

It snowed in Krimson City.

The sky had been the same dull gray color since sunrise, snowflakes slowly cascading down and covering the street in a thick blanket of snow. A heavy fog held the city tightly in its grasp– an eerie atmosphere hanging in the thin afternoon air and low-hanging clouds swallowing entire buildings whole– and with only limited visibility on the road, traffic was forced to crawl by in slow motion.

While not an unseen phenomenon, it was far from a common sight for early January, only days after Nathan’s birthday. He had spent that day snowed in in his little apartment, had celebrated it alone; not as if it mattered much, he doubted Kid even knew and besides his ex-colleague from MOBIUS he severely lacked other friends to hang out with those days.

He stood motionless at the fence of the small playground located in Krimson City’s public park, gloved hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his long, black coat with the collar popped up to shield the lower half of his face from the occasional sharp gust of wind. He had not moved in a while, shoulders and tousled black hair covered in a thin layer of fine white powder, frost nipping away at the tip of his nose as his eyes followed a group of kids excitedly running around.

It did not take a genius to notice Lily was significantly older than the others there, but none of the kids seemed to mind. It came as no surprise to Nathan to see her there– she had not once lost her playfulness even after everything MOBIUS had put her through, and without a proper outlet for it in all her years trapped in the shadow organization it only made sense for her to want to have a chance at spending the remainder of her childhood like she had always been supposed to.

He watched in silence as she scooped up some snow in her pink and orange mittens, wincing when one of the other kids threw a snowball directly at her face; she was smiling, though, and quickly pressed the snow together to then hurl it back, the surprisingly well-aimed attempt hitting someone else on the back of their coat.

‘You’re startin’ to freak out the other parents, standing there like that.’

The corners of Nathan’s mouth lightly curled up upon hearing the familiar, low voice, not needing to turn his head to know who joined him on the other side of the fence.

‘Was starting to wonder how long it’d take for you to notice me,’ he said, his own voice a little rougher than usual on account of the cold, and his severe lack of proper rest in the past few weeks. ‘Was gonna give you another five minutes before I’d walk over to introduce myself. You’re getting slow.’

‘I’m getting comfortable,’ Sebastian Castellanos corrected him with a scoff, returning Lily’s little wave as she ran by the both of them– Nathan merely greeted her with a single nod of his head– before quickly shoving his hand back in the pocket of his green jacket.

‘No need to keep my eyes up anymore, Nate. Threat’s gone, MOBIUS’ gone. Life’s improving day by day.’

‘Good.’

Nathan wished he shared Sebastian’s sentiment.

If anything, life had turned rather sour for him after they had successfully gotten rid of a large chunk of MOBIUS several months ago. He had never expected to walk away from it alive to begin with– and now, without the steady income the organization had provided him with for years, he found himself struggling to get by.

He glanced to his right, gaze briefly meeting that of the ex-detective before he quickly averted his eyes and let them wander back to the playground, trailing over the various snow-covered playground sets.

Sebastian looked good, healthy– much better than the state he’d been in when Nathan had last seen him all those months ago. Part of him regretted not reaching out sooner, the sudden reconnection now an obvious sign that something was wrong; though the wiser part of him knew that had he stuck around the Castellanos family they would not have been able to move on and heal, which was the last thing he would have wanted to be responsible for.

‘What about you?’ Sebastian quietly asked, as if he’d been able to sense Nathan’s melancholy. ‘You look like you haven’t slept in days.’

Nathan scoffed, slightly tilting his head to look at his feet and he absently kicked some snow off his boots. ‘That obvious? Sure feels like it.’

He had teamed up with Juli Kidman to deal with the remainder of MOBIUS, after the Union incident. Of course the destruction of the STEM environment hadn’t led to the fall of the whole organization– it would’ve been stupid of them to link all of their employees directly to the mainframe of a single STEM device, despite the Superiors’ obvious lack of knowledge concerning the technology– and while MOBIUS had suffered massive losses, it would only be a matter of time before they would regroup.

But he was not there to talk to Sebastian about how their hunt was going.

Something else had come up.

Nathan’s silence did not go unnoticed and Sebastian turned toward him, leaning sideways against the fence with a concerned look in his eyes. He did not need to say anything– and neither did Nathan, as he slowly pulled his hands out of his pockets and removed one of his black, leather gloves.

The pale top of his left hand had a burned appearance, as if fire had scorched away skin and flesh– the wound only partially healed leaving it broken and torn clinging closely to his veins and bones. Though despite how recent he had received the scar, its appearance instead implied years long possession, and despite its severity it did not hurt at all.

He could tell by the look on Sebastian’s face the scar reminded him of someone.

‘Now, I know what you’re gonna say–’ Nathan started, but Sebastian cut him off.

‘I can’t do this, Nathan. I have a daughter–’

‘–I know.’

His voice came out a lot sharper than he had meant for.

‘I’m not asking anything of you,’ he said, his heartbeat pounding in the back of his throat.

‘Not this time.’

It had started as police radio chatter.

Late in the afternoon, Nathan had already been getting ready to go home. Kid had picked up a mention of Beacon– its doors long closed for the public yet the building remained in the heart of Krimson City, left to rot and wither away– supposed ghostly activity reported within its decaying walls, and she had wanted to investigate.

Nathan sharply exhaled and put his glove back on, exposed fingers growing numb in the freezing winter air. He leaned forward with his arms on the fence, to move a little closer to Sebastian; as if he was afraid someone would overhear them, as if they could make sense out of any of it to begin with.

‘He’s back, Sebastian,’ he defeatedly stated, and the other man lowered his gaze. ‘I saw him. He did this to me.’

‘Impossible.’

‘Wish it was.’

Despite hearing many tales, and having worked on his project for years as developer within the MOBIUS branch he had been part of, Nathan had never seen or met Ruvik face to face. The brilliant mind behind the STEM technology had always remained in the shadows; up until his death, after which his brain had become the core of MOBIUS’ very first STEM device.

Naturally so, when Nathan had run into the man while wandering the abandoned hallways of Beacon, his first assumption had been that he was asleep– followed by a brief moment of panic in which he had believed he was dead, or somehow back in STEM.

But Ruvik had touched him– had forcefully grabbed his hand to make him drop his gun and had left a burn similar to his own scars– and had then vanished the second Kidman had yelled out Nathan’s name, the old and presumed broken STEM device in the room next door whirring and humming as if it had never been deactivated in the first place.

‘I’m here to warn you,’ Nathan softly continued, eyes fixed on a random spot in the bright snow covering the playground and thumb absently running over the gloved back of his scarred hand.

‘We don’t know yet what exactly he’s here for, what exactly he’s tryin’ to do. Investigating as we speak, but– shit’s looking serious. Somehow reverse engineered the STEM signal to reach outward, expand into reality. Push itself out rather than draw people in.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Similar to the wireless connection that pulled you into STEM the first time round, but– without being pulled in.’ Nathan had to bite his tongue to stop himself from getting too technical. ‘An– An active environment in our world, if you follow, rather than on the device’s mainframe. Signal seems to be inactive still, but we’re gettin’ the readings. No idea how he’s planning to activate it yet.’

They had moved the device to their own headquarters, on the outskirts of town. Had needed to connect it to the second prototype– the device that had supported the Union environment, which they had taken from MOBIUS’ headquarters after wiping out its agents– in order to gain access to the mainframe, get any data extracted from it in the first place.

Their initial hope had been that it was nothing more than echoes– malfunctions in the STEM device caused by neglect promptly activating the wireless signal allowing shades from within to wander the Beacon hallways– anything but Ruvik’s actual return, however that was even possible–

‘Daddy!’

Nathan blinked, drawn out of his thoughts by Lily’s voice. He watched her run over to the two of them– the front of her coat, face, and hair completely covered in snow and a bright smile on her face as she attempted to wipe some of it from her forehead, but if anything her mittens just further spread it out.

‘I’m getting cold,’ she said, squinting when Sebastian reached out to help her with the snow. ‘Can we go back home soon?’

‘Of course honey,’ he replied, barely able to mask the exhaustion in his voice now that Nathan had explained the situation to him– and for a brief moment it was as if they were back in Union, radioing back to Kidman from the momentary safety of one of their established safehouses. ‘Don’t want you catching a cold.’

Lily looked up at Nathan and smiled at him– but she was a smart kid, and he watched her expression change as she looked back up at her father, head slightly tilting before she shook it to get some strands of her ink black hair out of her face, the single white strand in her bangs– matching Nathan’s own– a grim and constant reminder of her mother’s fate.

‘Is everything alright?’ she asked, and Nathan couldn’t help but wonder if she still associated him with MOBIUS, if she still associated him with the tests and experiments they put her through and if she still associated him with the STEM device, meeting one another within in some facility in the Marrow where he was forced to watch over her like a vulture at all times, all to keep the system stable.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ he simply answered her, unsure if she would fall for his lie, but knowing it would give her infinitely more comfort than the truth ever could. ‘Just came to say hi.’

The breeze picked up, howling loudly in Nathan’s ears as if the whole city softly cried for him; the cold boring its way through his clothes and eating away at his skin, exposed or not, freezing him all the way down to the bone. He lowered his head– a futile attempt at shielding his face from the biting wind and snow, individual snowflakes cutting like knives across his forehead and cheekbones.

He watched Lily smile at both him and Sebastian again before running off to get back to the snowball fight for just a bit longer, diving behind the slide to get cover. His gaze was pulled back toward Sebastian– but said man appeared deep in thought, eyes pointedly fixed on something in the distance, head anywhere but in the present.

‘I gotta go back in,’ Nathan quietly continued; an unnecessary statement, the gravity of the situation like static in the air between the two of them, though to put it into words was to accept the harsh reality of it all– acknowledgement of what had to happen, what was going to happen, something he had not been able to do before.

‘It’s nothing like Union,’ Sebastian bluntly replied with a shake of his head, turning his back to the playground and resting heavily with his elbows on the fence. ‘He’s nothing like Stefano– nothing like Theodore. He doesn’t need a weapon or a core to draw his powers from, you get too close and it’s over. You understand?’

Nathan didn’t know what else to say.

He had never thought he’d have to go back into STEM after Union. He’d be alone this time round– no Sebastian by his side, no Kidman to radio back to. They had reconnected some old friends– Joseph, Yukiko, Esmeralda– but had no idea whether or not their consciousnesses would still be somewhere within STEM, and for all Nathan knew he would be diving into a world entirely of Ruvik’s creation, with the same horrifying creatures haunting it as last time, if not worse.

Of course he was terrified. All it took was one encounter with Anima and he would never see the light of day ever again.

‘You should go,’ Nathan said, pushing himself up from the fence and stuffing his hands back in the pockets of his coat, ‘get out of town while you still can. Grab a bag or two, grab Lily, take her on a– on a road trip up north or something, while we figure this out. Just in case he–’

He couldn’t finish his sentence. The thought of Ruvik succeeding and trapping the world in a constant state of STEM was something he would rather not think about.

‘–you know.’

An uncomfortable silence followed. And rightfully so– what else was there to say? The whole situation was ridiculous to begin with, and for Nathan to show up only now instead of at any other point in time, months of radio silence after nearly dying together in a simulation of reality lingering between real life and a dream–

He carefully watched as Sebastian shifted his weight from one foot to the other, able to study his face for longer now that the other man refused to make eye contact with him. He truly did look a lot better; Nathan could only assume the man had stopped drinking, and had been getting a much better night’s sleep.

Though despite the improvement in his appearance there was still that lingering sense of dread, the dark shadow that had washed over his face the second he had laid eyes on Nathan’s scarring and had realized what he had come to him for.

Nathan couldn’t blame him. But he’d had to let Sebastian know.

He licked his lips and nodded to no one in particular, ending the conversation himself by taking a small step back and turning back around to return to his car, drive home, drink himself blind and pass out to hopefully get some sleep in before he would have to dive back into his worst nightmare–

‘Hey.’

Sebastian’s hand on his upper arm was unexpected and Nathan hated how he could not stop himself from flinching, a reflex more than anything else, and he hated how it made Sebastian pull his hand away as if he’d touched fire, the tips of his fingers on Nathan’s body despite the layers he wore the first physical contact he had experienced in months.

‘Who is “we”?’ Sebastian quietly asked, briefly glancing behind him to see if Lily was still far enough away. A surprising question; though not out of character for the ex-detective, his curiosity piqued just enough for him to try and get a little more information out of Nathan before they would say goodbye and possibly never see each other again.

‘Me,’ Nathan plainly answered, ‘Juli. Used to be just us two but we gathered a team of old STEM developers to help us with this. They got moved on to other projects while we were working on Union– they removed their chips, came back for us.’

‘So all MOBIUS.’

Not even a question, simply a statement.

Nathan bit the inside of his cheek. ‘Ex MOBIUS.’

The atmosphere changed, a sharp tension bouncing between the two of them as Nathan straightened his back and lightly tilted up his chin. He couldn’t exactly place the look on the other man’s face, though by then knew him well enough to know his hesitation wasn’t caused by uncertainty, but moreso distrust.

‘Thought the program was meant to kill them all,’ Sebastian said, a somewhat hostile undertone in his voice that had not been there before.

‘Just our branch.’ Nathan paused, watching as Sebastian slowly nodded and mouthed a soundless “right”– not entirely sure what his reaction was supposed to mean, but he decided not to ask. ‘Already told you it runs a lot deeper than you thought.’

Myra's sacrifice had put an end to the Administrator's reign of terror– had destroyed his legacy, and all research and findings on the STEM system as designed by Ruvik and improved by MOBIUS. Whichever branches remained did not nearly have enough resources or knowledge to pull off something even remotely similar; and whatever scraps of code they could have gotten their hands on before Kidman and Nathan had wiped their systems clean would prove insufficient to provide them with a stable environment.

And even if they would make it that far– provided they’d be able to recreate the STEM device from written instructions alone, Ruvik's original blueprints lost to time and MOBIUS' own burned to a crisp in the aftermath of the Union incident's conclusion– the mental erosion Union's residents had suffered from and the Anima manifestations that had happened as a result had never been resolved, leaving any future STEM residents with the all but comforting promise of a similar fate.

'I'm diving in tomorrow,' Nathan said, knowing there was nothing else left to say. The breeze in the park was picking up again, sweeping snowflakes that were starting to feel more like hail than anything else into Nathan’s face with a lot more force than before, melting on collision and dripping into the collar of his shirt. 'First thing in the morning. Can’t waste any more time. In case you wanna come say goodbye–'

He reached into the pocket of his pants, then held out a note to Sebastian; handwritten, containing an address located on an abandoned warehouse site, not too far from Nathan's own home.

'–our headquarters.' He waited for Sebastian to take the note from him. 'No pressure, of course.'

No pressure.

The note was almost a blatant sign that Nathan wanted him to be there. He could not ask it of him directly– but gave him the option anyway, leaving the decision up to Sebastian instead.

But deep down Nathan knew that Sebastian knew that he really did not want to go back in alone– and if it had been up to him they had recruited Sebastian a week ago already, when things had first started to go wrong.

‘Do you have backup?’ Sebastian softly asked, as if he could look directly into Nathan’s head– asking the one question he had hoped for, with an answer to it that could easily enough change Sebastian’s mind about letting Nathan walk away if only he would play his cards right–

But despite how often he had practiced the entire conversation alone in his car, despite going over all the different things he could say at least a million times, just to get Sebastian to feel sorry for him– as selfish as it fucking was– Nathan found himself unable to speak.

He simply shook his head instead.

The other children and their parents were leaving, now. It was getting late, and colder, and Lily slowly wandered back to Sebastian to start dragging him back to the car if he were to take any longer than he already had.

Nathan looked up at the sky, eyes fluttering shut as he allowed more snow to drift down onto his ice cold skin, and he breathed in and out deeply before turning back to Sebastian.

‘They’re expecting more snowfall tonight,’ he said, locking eyes for only a split second and shooting a smile in his direction, as he began walking backwards into the direction of his car. ‘Don’t wait up. And– Drive safe, okay?’

Sebastian did not answer him.

It snowed in Krimson City, accompanied by a deafening silence weighing it down and choking it out, as if the whole city was expectantly holding its breath.

Nathan left.

taglist (opt in/out)

@nistarot, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @mojaves;

@shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption, @ncytiri;

@calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm, @strafethesesinners;

@fashionablyfyrdraaca, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian, @estevnys, @devilbrakers;

@aezyrraesh, @carlosoliveiraa, @adelaidedrubman, @fromgotham, @wardenevka

#nuclearwriting #kinda nervous posting this and also genuinely don't know if i'll keep writing because i haven't actually written much more yet LOL #i do really wanna work more on this because it's just nice to have for myself. but i'm definitely not gonna do the one chapter a week #that i used to do for king of fools. i don't know how i managed to do that like genuinely don't ask me #but yeas hi =] nathan introduction <3 obviously he and sebastian have already worked together during tew2 but i didn't feel like #writing about all of that just because it's basically what happens in the game except nathan is there. commenting on everything #this is the first part of the story where he gets to actually lead a bit more himself rather than just following sebastian around #and most of it will be written from his perspective if i do end up writing more =]#if i did my math and timeline right nathan did in fact already work for mobius when ruvik was still alive. so logically they could have met #but they didn't... closest nathan got was when he led the operation to burn the victoriano estate down after ruvik was killed #and then he wasn't there for beacon so he didn't experience any of that. and obviously in union ruvik wasn't there #so him running into ruvik as described in this chapter is the very first time they came face to face with each other ^_^

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gingermintpepper · 5 months ago

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I would really like to read one piece of writing, amateur or not, that features Apollo and Zeus having a positive relationship. One. Any one. It could be 30 words long for all I care. I just need confirmation that one other writer actively producing content in the Greek Mythology sector doesn't think of Apollo as Zeus' toy, sexual or otherwise, or of Zeus purposefully surpressing Apollo because he doesn't want him to surpass his power, or of Apollo only being obedient to his father over all else because of fear and physical abuse, or of any other reason possibly invented except some sort of mutual understanding and respect.

It should not be this difficult to find content where they do not hate each other.

#ginger rambles #I am at the end of my rope actually #None of my stuff is long enough to post on ao3 but fuck it I'll just post wips here #This is ridiculous #Like categorically ridiculous I feel like I'm going insane #One or two Apollo whumps is fine #cool even when written well #but oh my god everything?? All of it???#Really???#Shoutout to that one fic on ao3 that was doing snapshots of Zeus being a good dad to all his kids #And just hasn't got around to the Apollo chapter yet #I am praying for you Author you hold one of my last threads of sanity #I'll post some stuff about Apollo and Zeus in the early days sometime soon #I'm actually just flat out annoyed now lol #zeus #apollo #writing

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the-travelling-witch · 12 days ago

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𝐎𝐂 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐒 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬' 𝐨𝐜𝐬)

summary: i was plagued by the visions of my twst ocs interacting with my moots’ ocs, so here we are (aka i had a sudden burst of motivation to write about them interacting and now i'm very nervous to post this)

characters: cassandra, selene, angelica, carmilla (my ocs); @crystallizsch’s yuusha and yuuna, @viperbunnies’s oz (ft. yuudai), @anbaisai’s mayu

warnings: bullying (oz's part); jamil slander bc i love him <3 (all parts)

a/n: if i ever manifest in your dms with cryptic questions about your ocs, be not afraid, just answer them :3c (also i need to set up my oc directory and finish some intros fr)

twisted wonderland masterlist

CASS + YUUSHA + YUUNA

The sun was still high and clear in the sky as Yuusha made her way towards Ramshackle. Most students had already either returned to their dorm by this time or were still goofing off with their friends, sparing her any unnecessary run-ins with any of the college’s troublemakers. But, at NRC, a day could only stay peaceful for so long. When she passed by the mirror chamber, her phone vibrated.

Ramshackle Support Group

yuuna: @.yuusha be careful when you come back to the dorm yuuna: the stairs to the second floor caved in again yuusha: i’m still close to the school, i’ll go talk to crowley about it Cass: Wait for me, I’d also like to have a chat with the Headmage. yuusha: we’re not killing him Cass: Not even a little?

A few hours later, with the sun already far behind the horizon, the three girls fell onto Ramshackle’s rickety couches in exhaustion. Crowley had very generously provided them with funds to purchase supplies for repairing the stairs, but had otherwise not lifted a single clawed finger. Likewise, Grim was nowhere to be seen when he heard of physical labour.

“So,” Cass broke the silence, lifting her head from a cushion, “when are we going to ask Kalim for help instead of that useless weirdo?”

“We can’t just go and mooch off Kalim just because he’s rich,” Yuusha interjected, rolling over and settling into a more comfortable position at the other end of the sofa.

“Why not? Every other student in this school seems to be absolutely loaded. We, on the other hand…” Cass fished out a pillow under her golden locks and demonstrably pulled open the entire seam by a loose thread. “It’s not like Kalim would even notice.”

“Well, by that standard,” Yuuna chimed up while straightening out the bow in their hair, “why don’t you go ask Leona, Cass? I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help you out.”

“Yeah right, and next you know Azul will start handing out freebies,” the blonde snorted. Discarding the thread between her fingers on the coffee table, she started fiddling with the frazzled pillow cover instead. “Why are you bringing him up anyway? Aren’t Idia or Malleus or Vil just as rich?”

Her dorm mates exchanged knowing looks before Yuusha tilted her head towards Cassandra again with a grin. “Oh c’mon, we both have eyes you know.”

“And I’m not sure if those are working correctly.”

“Why deny it?” Yuuna giggled, taking a sip from the mug cradled between their hands. “Sure, Leona’s got an attitude problem and is generally unpleasant, but it could be worse. Probably.”

“You’re imagining things, why would I—“ Breaking herself off with a sharp exhale, Cass pulled the seam taught between her hands. “I’d rather throw myself headfirst into a pit of horned serpents than ask that ass for a favour.”

“Mhm, I’m sure you’d like to ask that ass something else instead,” Yuusha gleefully joined in the teasing. A second later a certain cushion hit her square in the chest, which didn’t deter her. “Or are you saying you decided to join Jack’s morning run, which just so happens to end at Savanaclaw’s morning practice, with no ulterior motive?”

“It certainly wasn’t so I could see Leona more! But anyway, since I already brought up snakes just now,” Cass started, turning her bright eyes on Yuusha. “Why don’t we talk about what I saw when passing by the courtyard this afternoon?”

With a telling glance towards Yuuna, who sat curled up in their armchair now, Cass added, “Involving a certain Vice Housewarden.”

“Oh my god! Did you come home late because you were meeting with Jamil?” There was genuine excitement in Yuuna’s voice as they perked up where they sat. “You gotta spill the beans now.”

“Only if a certain someone spills the tea on her and a certain lion.” The pillow flew back towards Cass.

“There’s nothing to spill here,” Cass retorted, catching the projectile easily.

“Oh right, by the same chance Grim will pass the next potions exam.”

“I noticed you didn’t deny that there was something going on between the two of you.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes!”

“Both of us actually!!”

It was a long night at Ramshackle. (Some say they’re still debating their terrible taste in men to this day.)

SELENE + ANGELICA + OZ (ft. Yuudai)

Of course this would happen to him of all people. If anyone was unlucky enough to accidentally delete the message stating where the film research club would be meeting and then miss Yuudai, who had forgotten his phone at the dorm that day, by a few minutes, of course it would be him. And though he knew better, when Oz was running all over campus trying to find the prefect, he started hoping to run into someone who could point him in the right direction. Which was when he quite literally ran into magift players on their way home from a gruelling practice and looking to blow off some steam.

“Tch, I thought I smelled another beastman around,” one of them scoffed as they started crowding around Oz, making him scrunch his nose in distaste. “Turns out it was just this little runt.”

“Yer always hoppin’ all over the place, aren’t ya?” The one on the left joined in, laughing as he started jabbing his finger into Oz’s birthmark. “Why don’t ya show us a trick, ya little freak?”

“Look who’s talking.” A clear voice cut through the air. Over the guys’ shoulders Oz could spot green hair and a pair of orange antennae. Selene looked entirely unimpressed by the scene she was witnessing. The dark-skinned girl walking next to her didn’t look any happier either. “The only freaks I’m seeing are the giant idiots running their mouths for no reason. Are you having fun only picking on people smaller than you?”

“Ha? You got some kind of problem, you bug-legged freak?”

“Oh, no, you’re the only ones with some kind of problem here. Your vernacular for example,” Selene waved them off. Her voice made it clear that she was completely over this conversation and considered talking to them a waste of her time. Slipping a phial out of her pockets, she swirled its luminescent contents around with a pensive look on her face before fixing her gaze on the magift players again. “Since you never pick on anyone your size maybe I should shrink you down to the size of mice? I need to test this one anyway…”

Seeing the seriousness in her expression the guys urgently whispered between each other before deciding to scram but not without hurling a few more insults at the Pomefiore student. In response, Selene only gave them a meaningful look and her lip curled slightly at the corner.

“If I was you, I’d be careful with the cafeteria food for the next few days. Who knows what could accidentally slip in there.”

With the athletes out of sight, Oz’s shoulders finally dropped their tension and he heaved a sigh as he approached the two girls. By now, the potion had already vanished somewhere behind the width of Selene’s flowy sleeves.

“Thanks for stepping in,” Oz started, before adding a little more hesitantly, “but you wouldn’t actually spike their food, right?”

“It’s true that I’ll eventually have to give this potion to a person but I’m still perfecting the ratio of the ingredients,” Selene shrugged nonchalantly. Seeing Oz’s unconvinced expression she added with a small smile, “As long as they think there’s the chance that I would, it’s sufficient. Some people would call human experimentation at this stage unethical. And frankly, that’s more paperwork than I care to bother with, so don’t worry about it.“

“‘Those people’ are called an ethics committee, Sel, for the seven’s sake. Also quit making such jokes or Oz will think you’re being serious about it,” Angelica spoke up, exasperation and fondness mixing in her tone as she smiled at her girlfriend. As she shook her head, the star-shaped buns on her head bobbed, making various accessories in her hair glitter like stars in the night sky. Then she turned her dark eyes on Oz. “Anyway, that aside, are you okay?”

“Just a bit shaken up, but otherwise I’m fine,” he said. Absent-mindedly, one of his gloved hands traced the spot where the guy had poked him but Selene’s dual-coloured eyes caught on to the movement. Digging through her purse, she procured a compact mirror and concealer.

“Your make-up came off a little. If it makes you more comfortable, you can touch it up. It won’t be perfect but our teint is similar enough for it to pass.” Holding the utensils out to him, Oz took them from her. “The cushion’s unused if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh no, that’s not it.” Considering just leaving it at that, Oz trailed off before exhaling deeply. From all the brief times he’d talked to Angelica and Selene, he didn’t think they’d make fun of him for what he was about to say, so he plucked up his courage. “It just feels a little silly sometimes that I care so much about something like a birthmark.”

The girls exchanged a quick glance before Angelica smiled at him warmly, reaching out to hold the concealer while Oz applied it in the mirror. “I don’t think it’s silly at all, if that helps you.”

“I agree,” Selene nodded, adjusting her glasses afterwards. “We all have traits we feel insecure about, especially if others have commented unfavourably on them in the past. Some days we feel more comfortable showing them and on others we’d rather hide them from view. I think most people feel like that.”

When she took the make-up from him again, Oz couldn’t help but notice the pink colour staining her arms from the tips of her fingers to her elbow. He obviously had known it was there, but hadn’t paid it much mind up until now. Something told him Selene had personal experience in the matter as well.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Angelica spoke up again, “what happened earlier anyway? I find it hard to imagine that you wronged them somehow.”

“Oh!” Oz suddenly remembered the club meet he had to get to, so he very quickly explained his problem to the couple, who listened attentively even as he nervously thumped his foot and nearly bit his tongue. “So just when I started hoping to find anyone from the film research club, I ran into them instead.”

“Well, you found someone who can help you in the end after all. Though we’re not from the film club, Selene has something she wants to ask Vil, so we were actually just on our way to meet them.” The Ignihyde student’s voice was so light and welcoming as she spoke, it was hard to imagine she actually went to NRC. “If you want to, you can accompany us.”

“That would be a big help,” Oz took her up on the offer.

Soon enough, the late afternoon was filled with the usual complaints levelled at teachers and classmates. Selene described how she had passed by the first year’s botany class on mandrakes recently and had nearly had a heart attack because she had thought she heard one of the plants scream, but it had turned out to be Sebek instead. The art teacher had once nearly tossed out Azul’s assignment because they hadn’t recognised it as a finished painting, Oz told them. Angelica recalled how, in her first year, they had had joint potions classes with the third years once and she had almost passed away when she was partnered up with Leona, only to barely catch his head from nodding off into the potion.

“Looks like we still made it in time,” Angelica sighed in relief as they spotted Vil assigning tasks from a distance. Turning to Oz with a smile, she brushed a stray coil out of her face. “It was fun talking to you. Makes me wonder why we haven’t interacted more before, despite all of us being second years.”

“I don’t think that’s on either of us,” Selene interjected, her antennae and the green-pink moth wings on her back fluttering in the evening breeze. “It probably has something to do with the fact that Oz hangs out with Jamil a lot and that guy has always been giving me the widest berth possible.”

“Ah… Please don’t hold it against him,” Oz tried to defend the vice housewarden, knowing how he already reacted to bugs the size of his finger. While wondering what else he could say, he heard his name being called. “Well, I’ll see you around then. And thank you again for everything.”

“You’re very welcome. And good luck with those photos!” Angelica waved him goodbye as the two made their way over to Pomefiore’s housewarden.

Selene only elegantly tilted her head down as they parted but still left him with a friendly “À bientôt.”

In the meantime, Yuudai had made his way over to him, camera already hanging around his neck as he’d no doubt gone through most of the preparations already. Despite that, he still grinned at the sophomore.

“Oz, there you are. I was already worried you had forgotten that we’re helping Vil today.”

“How could anyone possibly forget that?” Scratching his head, he decided to gloss over most of what had happened. “I just got held up a little. Anyway, what can I help you with?”

CARMILLA + MAYU

“Mayu! Just the person I was looking for~”

Looking over her shoulder for the sweet voice calling her name to find the hallway completely deserted, Mayu shook her head and turned back in the direction she was going. Only to nearly jump out of her skin as she came face to face with a pair of sharp, teal eyes.

“Sorry, did I startle you? That wasn’t my intention,” Carmilla cooed, not sounding all that sorry. The ghostly flames around her flickered mischievously as the fae fell into step next to her. “You were on your way somewhere, weren’t you? Why don’t we walk while we talk, hm? It’s been a while since we last got to chat, how are you doing? Nobody’s giving you any trouble, right?”

“Oh uhm, I’m doing fine and everyone’s very nice to me. Thank you for the concern,” Mayu answered, giving Carmilla a small smile. As they continued towards the library, the prefect fiddled with her cuff sleeves as she hesitated to say what was on her mind, before conceding. “Actually, I’m struggling with Ancient Curses at the moment. I just never seem to get them right.”

“Ancient curses, huh? I’m quite good at them, but so’s Jamil if I remember correctly.” Casting a studying glance at the girl next to her, Carmilla went on smoothly. “Haven’t you asked him for help before? I’m sure he won’t try to weasel himself out of tutoring if it’s you.”

“I did think about it,” Mayu admitted with a sigh, “but he’s been so busy lately, even more so than usual. And I don’t want to bother him.”

A gasp echoed around the hallway as Carmilla halted in her tracks at a crossroad, head whipping around to the younger girl next to her. It made Mayu stop, too, and look at her curiously.

“Does that mean he hasn’t even been making time for you?” The fox’s usually playful expression had shifted, regarding her with eyes that had softened around the corner in sympathy.

“No! It’s not–” Mayu immediately piped up, holding her hands up in defence. How did they end up talking about her and Jamil in the first place? “I know that he does try to make as much time for me as possible. He just has a lot on his plate at the moment.”

“Oh dear, that won’t do. Tell you what, I actually came here to ask if you want to take some clothes off my hands.” Procuring two bags stuffed full with fabrics out of thin air, the idol held them out for her to take. “They’re all products from brand deals that aren’t really my style or colour, but I thought they might look cute on you. Especially since you came here without anything you could call a wardrobe. If you end up not liking them, you can just give them back to me, I don’t want you thinking I’m just dumping my old clothes on you.”

“Oh, that’s too kind of you, Carmilla,” Mayu exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by the weighted bags now dangling off her arm. Running her fingers over the soft material lying on top, it reminded her of the comfy hoodies she regularly ‘borrowed’ from a certain someone. “I can’t wait to try them on.”

“Don’t mention it. Normally I’d just leave it at that but considering what you just told me, you should totally wear them the next time you go out with Jamil! In fact, why don’t you just ask him out the next time you see him?” And just like that, all worry was erased from Carmilla’s face and her sunshiney smile was back on as she curled a pink strand around her manicured finger. “Personally I don’t get what you see in the guy at all, but I do commend the charity work. Plus, as you said, he could reaaallllyy use a break~”

“Hm, I don’t know about asking him out all of a sudden,” Mayu contemplated, her dark eyes trailing over the bricks in the walls as she considered it. “But I would like to do something nice for him.”

“I totally support it! Oh, actually, that reminds me! There’s an upcoming festival in Foothill town, celebrating the new year. It’s always super cute and scenic.” As Carmilla spoke, the air around them filled with magic before displaying luminous scenes of people mingling in the streets of the quaint town, various foods and items in hand as the night sky was illuminated by fireworks. “You should really go and experience it for yourself. Can’t let an opportunity like this pass you by, right?”

“Right,” the prefect echoed as she watched the last wisps of the illusion fizzle out into nothingness. With newfound determination, she fixed her big eyes on the fae again. “Thank you so much, Carmilla. For everything.”

“Oh please, I hardly did anything. And about the clothes and the festival,” she leaned towards Mayu with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes, “let’s keep it a secret between the two of us, no need to credit me. Consider it my good deed of the day.”

As Mayu nodded, albeit a little confused by the request, Carmilla’s ears twitched at the sound of a familiar set of agitated footsteps. Feigning surprise as she looked down at the time of her phone, she gave the younger girl an apologetic smile.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave. It was fun catching up, we should really do it more often. For now, though, you’ll have to excuse me.” Slinking past Mayu with a wink, the soft fur of Carmilla’s tail brushed against her uniform as the pink fox disappeared the same way she had spontaneously showed up earlier. “Toodles~”

Hand half-raised to wave at the now empty hallway, Mayu took a second to process what had just happened, from beginning to end. The bags in her hand corroborated that she hadn’t just imagined it and when she looked up any events that would soon happen in Foothill Town, the festival was there too. With a shake of her head, Mayu wrote it off as just another one of NRC’s daily occurrences. Just then, someone else rounded the corner.

“Prefect, what are you doing here?”

“Oh Jamil, hi. I was on my way to the library to look for books on ancient curses.”

“Ancient curses? I still have some notes I could lend you from my first year…”

Carmilla only caught the beginning of their conversation as it trailed off in the distance. Mayu was right when she said Jamil could do with a break. It had gotten to a point where seeing him in the morning started putting her on edge too and it made her fur stand on end. Especially when it affected the other students in the dorm as well. Palpable tension and all that. Needless to say, something had to be done about it if Carmilla wanted to go back to some relaxing peace and quiet.

No harm done by pulling a few strings if placating their vice housewarden also benefited the prefect, right?~

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#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#┊✩彡 cherished guests ♡#this was meant to be a silly little post and not 10 pages long #i feel a little bad that they're not all the same length (sorry ian ㅠㅠ) but at the same time i think the ramshackle trio made their point #if you do not agree with what i have written here pls ignore this post and bury it in your backyard (or ask me to take out your oc)#these were pretty much the first scenarios that popped into my head for these specific constellations of characters #but i think it's a really good writing exercise for getiing into my girls' heads (cheron is still m.i.a)#love the idea that a) the girls would have these nights hanging out in ramshackle and forming this unlikely friendship bc of circumstance #and b) that cass and yuusha would drag each other for their respective crush bc horrendous choices both of you #yuuna is just here for the tea #i feel like i need to apologise to tato specifically #i feel so bad for making these fictional characters bully oz ㅠㅠ #i was so close to rewriting his part bc i felt so guilty for being needlessly mean to him but i'll keep it for now (*starts sweating*)#when i wrote the selene/angelica appearance ‘my clematis’ from alnst started playing... the yuri summoned more yuri ㅠㅠ #what? you thought carmilla was nice just because?#the jamil/carmilla dynamic usually is “could you be any more annoying”/ “easily”#so she’s on her best behaviour here actually (we won’t discuss how much of jamil’s stress comes from her and jade in the first place)#is this my finest work? probably not. did i really want to write it? yeah yeah i did #tags longer than the actual writing? good everything as it's supposed to be then #twisted wonderland #twst #twst ocs #oc x canon #moot's oc #yuusha tala #yuuna perla #oz damarys #shiokawa mayu #carmilla hawthorne #cassandra yuule

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