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hadesknockedupintheunderworld · 10 days ago

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Thinking of the end of Zelda Twilight Princess and TP Link again

Since the start of your journey, all you've tried to do is keep your home and your loved ones safe. You hardly understood your own destiny at first, the major role you were to play in this world. Though you could never have refused the future that lay before you, it remains that it's this wish to protect your home, your loved ones, and to bring everything back to normalcy that drove you in the beginning. And it, too, remains that even though you found others to care for and had accepted your destiny (that there became a point where you embraced your role in fixing everything), that original goal still remained. After all, you, the people you care about, none of you can go home or live in safety until the threat is defeated.

What if you'd started out as a boy from a small, rural town, one who'd hardly dreamed large, but couldn't shake his curiosity in the world outside. You never wanted to leave your village for long, but you were interested in getting a chance to see Hyrule's capital, meet those people your older friend had told stories of. And then, when the monkey's paw curled and the goddesses gave you a grand adventure, all you wanted was to pave the way for everyone to be able to go home, including yourself. Once it was all over, you and everyone else could finally relax, right? Things would finally go back to normal, wouldn't they? And the children could forget the horrors they'd seen, like none of it ever happened.

But after all that... Even after shedding the hero's tunic, returning the sword of evil's bane to its resting place, and finally returning home with everyone...home is not the same anymore. You were supposed to feel safe again, comforted by the sounds of the nearby wood, the smell of the goats, and the rough texture of the pumpkins that grow in the village, but even lying in your own bed makes you restless and feel on edge. Sometimes, the children still run around the village like they used to, playing pranks on each other and playing hero, but each one of them has an air of...maturity that wasn't there before.

Colin is more confident. He doesn't follow you around or spend as much of his time watching the other kids play. He spends time telling his baby sister stories and training with his father (like you once had) to learn the way of the sword. The other kids don't pick on him as much anymore either.

And Talo. Talo thinks the village is much too defenseless now, especially after everything he's been through. He never really left the rooftops of Kakariko Village, the village lookout who was trying to protect everyone the only way he could. He's even confided in you before that he's trying to learn a weapon too, and trying to convince Colin to join forces with him as village protectors. According to Talo, Colin says there's no need to worry with you and his dad around. No better protection than a hero, right? But Talo says he knows you and Rusl won't always be around. And...maybe that's true. One day, you too will grow old with time, but something about the way Talo says it makes you feel...uneasy. As if he was seeing right through you. Was he seeing something you were ignoring, or was he really truly talking about the day in which you are no longer able to protect anyone?

Beth is still a bit boy crazy, still fancies herself more mature than the others as she had before, but there's some respect there now when she interacts with them. She refuses to tell you what she's been up to, but you've seen her working in her mother's shop, talking to Uli as she feeds her baby, reading with her father, and helping Ilia wash Epona in the spirit's spring. Ilia seems to know more than she lets on when telling you that it's a casual hangout, but you have an inkling of what it's about. Given the others, it's no surprise if Beth, too, is trying to find her place here, trying to help in some way.

Malo is perhaps the one who'd changed most obviously. While everyone had been happy to go home after the defeat of Ganondorf, Malo couldn’t simply stay the same quiet kid who'd followed his brother around. He'd built a growing business back in Kakariko, dedicated to making goods affordable to the common person and raising funds to fix up local infrastructure. He couldn’t continue to run it from Ordon (though Sera's told you that he'd made an offer on her shop). You've even been able to hear him muttering under his breath about the state of Malo Mart management, and plotting to skip town (after all, young as he is, and after everything that's happened, there's no way his parents would just let him go back on his own). As before, Malo doesn't speak to you often, but he had...said something that shook you not long ago. He'd not so subtly "hinted" that you could make an excuse to leave, and that it wouldn't be hard for him to stow away as you went on your trip. You didn't know quite what to say, but when you began to mention his parents he'd cut you off. "So you're too scared to leave."

(Are you too scared? No, of course you could leave if you wanted to. And you don't want to, do you? You're home again, which is the only place you've wanted to be since the world went to shit. It'll just take...time for you to feel okay again. No better place than home to heal, right?)

But it's...not just the kids who've changed. Fado was happy to have you back, of course (he's always said no one wrangles the goats quite like you), but he’d... Well, even though he was the one who extended the offer, he seems to fear this is beneath you, that he's tying you down, keeping you from a grander life. No matter how much you assure him this is exactly where you want to be, that you just want things to return to normal, he doesn't seem convinced.

Not to mention the rumors in the village of your feats, all the talking behind your back. You'd been celebrated as a hero when you and Rusl returned back with the missing children, and now, since you've been trying to return to normalcy, others continue to be weird around you. You're a hero (were at least), yes, but are you not the same Link the villagers have known as long as you've lived here? Do you not occasionally assist with their troubles. Do you not try to make occasional small talk as before? So why do they seem to have trouble talking to you? Why do they have so much to say, and yet none of it said to your face?

Home has changed. And even that which has stayed the same doesn't feel...correct. That which is still familiar feels like nostalgia slipping through your fingers, not the reality before you.

But then again, when you spend weeks following your old routine, trying to act as you did before, and nothing seems to get better. When you lay in a bed (your bed) that's the same as it was when you first left it, you wake up sweaty and fearful from nightmares, and you feel exposed when you should feel safe, is it home that's the problem? What about when you look at the sunset and dream of places faraway, of the people you met and the things you've seen, and it feels like something's missing (something, perhaps, not wholly unrelated to the person people you'll probably never see again)?

Ilia was the one who first assured you that this path was the right one. When she finally had a chance to relax, deal with her amnesia head on, it was reminders of home and her past which comforted her, allowed her to get better. Of course, you know she'd never just forget everything she'd been through before, and she wouldn't expect you to either, but she'd agreed that being home would allow you to heal too. That's...that's what you've been hoping.

On many occasions you think about confiding it all in her, telling her what you've been going through, but you can't go through with it. Not when she seems...happy again.

So, after weeks of letting bits and pieces slip, you finally confide in Rusl. It's a day similar to all those months ago. The sun is setting as you and he sit at the spirit's spring after a long day, and he tells you about his week. You tell him that even as things get better, they don't really get better. When you don't have nightmares of tragedy and never ending battles and failure, you're dreaming of the people and places you met during your journey. No matter how much time you spend there, or how much furniture you move around to your liking, or decorations you add to the walls, the idea of your home being home feels like you and the feeling are separated by an impenetrable wall of glass. You can see that feeling of comfort, of home, of familiarity, but you just can't quite touch it. Your house is yours, and yet you can't seem to fit in it anymore. You've gone back to normal, and yet everyone is treating you differently. You try to relax, and you just can't quite sit still, feeling like...

You finally admit that feeling you've been stuffing down to him as you ramble (something rare for you to begin with). It's not just that you can't feel safe at home, that healing is a tough process, but that you feel like there's something yet you need to do. It doesn't feel right trying to be the person you were before. The routine which should be great for its simplicity and famliliarity feels wrong, almost stifling.

Did you really think you could just go home after all you'd seen and been through, go back to that small world and cut off the rest of it, just so things could be like they were before?

Maybe it's you who's wrong. Maybe you're broken and your edges dulled and chipped so the old pieces don't fit back together anymore–

But Rusl, ever a comforting presence in your life, just hugs you. He says he cannot even begin to comprehend the things you've been through. He acknowledges how hard it is to heal. Both things you already knew.

Then...he tells you his story, that he knows how hard it is to return to all of this after such an ordeal. You are not the only person who must deal with it now. You're not alone.

And then, as you consider telling him that if everyone is dealing with this, then surely they're handling it better than you, he tells you something that causes you to freeze.

"If you need to leave, you can."

"Of course," Rusl continues, "if you want to stay, we'll support you. You don't have to pretend everything is normal. And even if you go, it's not like you'll be banished. You can always come back here, even if you can't stay."

And so you speak the words you've thought every time someone suggests leaving here, or suggests that you won't stay. "Do I have to go? Is...does everyone just want me gone?"

Rusl shakes his head. "Of course not. We all love and care about you like we always have, hero or not."

Then...why do I feel like...this around everyone? you think.

"The question is...it's not whether anyone wants to you go or thinks you should go." Then, Rusl places a hand on your shoulder, face deeply serious as his eyes lock onto yours.

"The question is: Do you want to go? Do you need to go?"

For a moment...you're speechless. You know what you want, you think. You've wanted to return home all along, haven't you? That's...all You've been trying to do since you defeated Ganondorf, lost bid Midna farewell, shed the garb of the hero and returned the master sword to its grove. But...what do you need?

"I don't...I don't know what I need," is all you say.

"...Well," Rusl says, after a moment of contemplation. "I can't tell you what you want any more than I can accurately guess what you need. And I can't make your decision for you."

"...Right." So that's it then. Either you go, admit that there's no fixing you, no point trying to fit a misshapen puzzle piece in an old hole, or you stay, keep trying to move on and get things as close to normal as you can as you have been for weeks.

"Hey," Rusl says after a moment. "Hey, listen to me for a second."

You raise your head, shift your eyes from where you'd cast them at your sandals.

"You'll be okay, Link. You've been through a lot, and it's changed you—like it's changed all of us. But, you have your whole life ahead of you, and I suspect you have more choices than you even believe."

"...Yeah."

"I may not be able to tell you what you need, but I can tell you to follow your heart. If you listen to it, it'll lead you where you need to go."

"My heart?" You sound a bit skeptical.

"I mean...isn't it your heart that got you here? You didn't undertake the journey and save your loved ones by being weak of heart did you?"

And that...that's true. With everything that was at stake (especially that which you cared about most), it was your heart that wouldn't allow you to back down, wasn't it?

In the end, you nod.

Rusl smiles. "Then why ignore it now?"

"Why ignore it now?"

The rest of what Rusl has to say goes unsaid, but...you think you get it anyways.

"Why ignore it now? Has it ever lead you astray?"

"...Thanks, Rusl," you say, finally. You don't tell him that you feel a bit better now, but his smile grows regardless.

"It's no problem, Link. Anytime you need."

And so the sunset passes into night passes into morning, and there's a weight on you when you wake up. You know, somehow, in this moment, that a decision has to be made, a potential path chosen. There's no ignoring it.

And you find her—Ilia—in the spring.

"You're...leaving, aren't you."

"I..." You haven't even put on any gear, nor unearthed that special tunic tucked in your basement, nor have you saddled Epona up yet. When you woke up, you still didn't know what it is you need.

"...I am," you say finally.

There's a moment of silence.

"I...some part of me knew you would." Then, she adds, "One day."

"...Why?"

She shakes her head. "I can't explain it. You just...you haven't seemed...quite right lately."

I haven't?

You thought you must've seemed at least fairly normal, must have with all the effort you put in.

"You're... You weren’t..." Ilia hesitates for a moment, as if afraid to say the words at the edge of her tongue. But then, she sighs.

"You don't seem happy here."

"I-I've...I've tried to–"

"I know," she says, cutting you off. "I know. I have..."

You wait for her to finish her thought, but she never does.

"Hey, Link, before...before you go... Come back to this spring. I'll wash Epona for you."

There's a bit of strain in the smile Ilia gives you, but you nod, smiling back.

It's...it's not easy to leave. It never is, and it never gets easier, no matter how many times you have to do it. And so, as you gather some final supplies, thank Rusl for his advice, and put on your gear (finally unearth the tunic you'd hidden away), you remind yourself that this isn't truly goodbye. You're just...going on a little trip, chasing your heart. You'll visit sometimes, right? It's just a little trip.

And eventually, geared up, you make your way to the spring. As expected, Ilia is there, grooming Epona when you arrive.

Out of everyone, you feel Ilia has been both the easiest and the hardest to read. Ever since everyone returned to Ordon, it made sense the way she stuck right back to the comforts of home and her old routine. She's...not all okay, but it's seemed to make her happy. And yet...there's something else about her. There's a bit of weirdness there you can't parse out, and there's something in the way she speaks that always feels like there's something going unsaid. You feel it more than ever as she turns to face you in the spring, seems hesitant about giving Epona over, even as she says that Epona is washed and ready.

Although, then again, there's something nostalgic about this moment. As you mount up Epona and Ilia asks you to take care of her, and not to take on more than you can handle.

You know the moment is here. You can feel it. It's time to go.

And yet, there's one last thing holding you back. You look down at Ilia as she begins to speak again.

"...Link, I–"

"Hm?"

Silence.

"I...never mind." Ilia waves you off, mustering up a smile. "You should... You should go. Don't let me hold you back."

You nod in response. Her expression is a bit bittersweet, although perhaps the smile you return her is just the same.

And so you take off with Epona, galloping across the bridge between Ordon and Faron. You leave her standing outside the spring, and you make a beeline for Hyrule Field, craving to feel the wind in your hair and the sun on your face.

Your wants, your desires...those deep down ones may be impossible. But it's something. Traveling, following where your heart leads, it feels familiar. It feels...right.

And once your journey begins, you think it's almost laughable that you thought that you could just go back home after all that you'd seen and experienced and...lost. At least now, though your future is uncertain, though you still can't quite feel safe, though you still can't banish the nightmares, at least you no longer feel...stifled.

At least you can be free now.

#legend of zelda twilight princess #twilight princess #loz twilight princess #loz tp #link #tp link #link tp #long post #i just be ramblin #there's some ililink/lilia and midlink in there if you squint #sorry I wrote most of this weeks ago and left it in my drafts cause I couldn't seem to finish #and then a few days ago I beat TP again...so I finished this with the ending fairly fresh on my mind #Though most of this is self indulgent‚ originally I had wanted Ilia to go with him somehow‚#(that's originally where I got stuck writing this) but it was not to be #And in the original game's ending‚ when Link leaves‚ he leaves on a completely normal day without fanfare. and he leaves Ilia standing there #outside the spring #So I knew I had to depict that instead. that bittersweet feeling of pursuing the life you need right now while leaving those important to #you behind. And of feelings unsaid #something fitting about the idea that neither Midna nor Ilia could bear to confess what was in their heart in the end.#So idk it's both self indulgent and canon compliant and built to hurt me in a good way #I love this game so so so freaking much #And if you can't tell I'm also really emotional about the idea of Link never truly being able to go home again after such a large journey

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tabellae-rex-in-sui · 1 month ago

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I'm new to Sade so sorry if this is a stupid question, but was Sade gay? I'm currently reading Justine and noticed the passionate, semi-romantic descriptions of m/m sex, which contrast with the crude descriptions of f/m sex. I've not read all of Sade's books, but the ones I have read also feature characters who're mostly disinterested in women, who give off self-insert vibes (e.g. Dolmancé). Am I reading too much into it? IDK but I was wondering if you could shed some light.

Happy deathday to Sade!! lol

Really all that can be said with certainty is that he definitely wasn't straight lol. Like anyone who died before modern queer theory, Sade's sexuality can be difficult to label with today's terminology. He was certainly attracted to both men and women, so for simplicity's sake I just say he was bisexual. But really, who knows...

Characters that he uses as self-inserts like Dolmancé in PitB or Bressac in Justine are pretty exclusively attracted to men. Like you said, there's multiple times in his writing where characters will praise m/m sex and show blatant disgust towards sex with women. But if you look at Sade's life, there's only one known* male sex partner and many women. There's also several women Sade was in love with throughout his life, but there exists no letters of him professing love to any man. Could this be because male victims were less likely to go to the police, therefore less known to us? because women were easier to pursue in public? because even he felt the pressure of societal norms? because he kept relations with men better hidden? because any such letters or records were selectively destroyed by a relative? Who knows! It could be some, all, or none of these things. It's really up to the interpretation of the reader. The misogyny, philosophical extremism, and very culturally different ideas about sex add so many different variables to Sade's sexuality.

To add further confusion: gender and sexuality were much more correlated in Sade's writing (and seemingly in the time period in general, I mean look at the bisexual Lord Hervey being referred to as "the third sex"), male characters who get sodimized call it them "becoming women", women who put on strap-ons "become men", even women who get sodimized are masculinized: Saint-Ange says she wants to be a "Ganymede" to Dolmancé. So sodomy seemed inherently gay to Sade, regardless of the sexes involved or what roles they played. Whereas today, that's definitely not the case. Beauvoir follows along with the sexuality-gender correlation and suggests that Sade felt more feminine than masculine and his written contempt for female genitalia was a product of his own gender frustrations. From what I've read, most modern historians tend to avoid labeling Sade with anything other than "sodomite" and "libertine" only using "bisexual" and "homosexual" to label certain actions he performed like "homosexual sex" "bisexual orgy" etc. This is when the word queer is godsent.

Tldr; He's too 18th century libertine for modern labels. Colloquially, I default to calling him bi, but we'll never really know. Maybe he would have preferred gay due to his preferences/philosophies. Who knows. Safest bet is to just call him queer.

*Should go without saying but, there were obviously more. Latour is just the only named one with recorded proof.

#sade not really having any close male friends throughout his life is so crazy to me #like its the 1700s and you DONT have a homosocial-homoerotic Friend you profess eternal devotion and love to???#get with the fucking program man #but it does make sense for Sade tho; he was so antisocial and insecure I can't be too shocked he didn't have male friends #Ive always seen his prefernce for female friendships as an extension of his control freakness and misogyny #I don't think hed be able to maintain a genuine friendship with anyone he considered a societal threat; which eliminates any other noblemen #he liked to be the most powerful person in the room; so he only befriended those he saw as ''beneath'' him #We have that very telling letter he wrote as a teen to his father where he became close to another boy in his regiment #he says smth like ''I am his friend; I have reason to believe he may be mine but what can we believe anyway? Friends often prove defective''#he just did not befriend many men in his life #I think it's an ego thing but who knows #maybe he genuinely did enjoy the company of women more; or like how Beauvoir suggests; he identified more with women than men #or both idk; those aren't mutually exclusive #maybe sade would have liked the split attraction model lol #prefers sex with men but relationships with women?#or maybe he would have hated labeling everything #but he did love his numbers and data and theorizing so maybe he would have liked it #the machinations of his mind are an enigma #Fritz is so obvious. Like that man way gay; no doubt #Sade??? uh.. queer #but thats just my opinion on it all. there's no right answer and I'm not a historian/anthropologist/psychologist #ask #anon ask

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steve-brules-rules · 4 months ago

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I’ve been talking a lot already but I’m just in an HC mood as I sit here painting more pfps tonight hehe :-)

I want there to be a window of time during Lemuria where Dasein tags along with the wizard offworld. He’s just so curious about everything the spiral has to offer and he’s so excited because he’s finally locked in with this whole physical body thing for longer periods of time. Life is way more thrilling than being Nothing, and Dasein wants to experience it all.

So as they travel together, he spends a lot of time learning simple things like “it’s definitely time to stop and eat because my stomach has a weird pain and I can’t concentrate.” And “oh, when I have no energy and I start getting kind of dizzy and my eyelids are heavy, but there’s no stomach feeling, it’s time for this sleep thing again.”

And Dasein is so fascinated by sleep.

It’s not death. The wizard was quick to correct him about that. And it’s obviously not consciousness. It’s sort of like what he was before he extruded himself into reality, because when you’re asleep, you’re not experiencing the world around you. But you haven’t stopped being, either. You might dream, which is this weird thing the wizard talks about where you see things that aren’t actually there, and those things aren’t real, but they’re also shadows of reality. It’s all really confusing.

Sleeping is kind of scary to Dasein at first. He’s napped here and there when the opportunity came along, but he hasn’t experienced real sleep yet. The kind where you lie down with a comfortable blanket and don’t do anything for about eight hours, give or take. And Dasein’s not sure yet if he wants to try it. He has a ton of questions and not many answers. Will he lose his physical form and have to start all over again forcing himself into reality? Will he lose this particular body? What if he loses contact with the wizard? What if he comes back but even the wizard can’t see him? So he fights it as long as he can.

At some point while he’s trying to stay awake, he’s sitting stiffly on a couch in the wizard’s quarters in the arcanum, and he’s focusing on the black hole out there in space, his head swirling with enough thoughts and questions to distract himself from his exhaustion. The wizard is already tired from a full day of kicking koolakamba lemur ass, and they crumple onto the couch beside him to look out at space too.

There’s another conversation about stuff in life that confuses Dasein. Eventually, the wizard’s responses come slower and groggier until they stop alltogether after Dasein asks about the mechanics of blinking, and he gets concerned. He’d been so focused on staying awake and talking, that he hadn’t noticed until now how the wizard is slumped against him, snoring a little. From underneath The Old One’s tentacles, his mouth starts doing that weird thing again where it curves upward. He’s still not sure what to think of it, but the wizard does it all the time when they see their friends or eat their favorite food, so Dasein isn’t too worried about it.

He wonders if the wizard is doing that dreaming thing right now. He wonders what wizards even dream of. The wizard feels warm against his arm. Really warm. He wonders if everyone is like that, or if it’s another symptom of being a creature who’s practically ascended to divinity at this point. He listens alot to the wizard complain about all the little things other beings don’t experience, like their hair not cooperating after casting too many of those spells that soak everything in tidal seawater, or the voice of Grandmother Raven constantly coming to them when they were just a teenager (note to self: ask the wizard more about that whole “getting older” thing).

Dasein carefully frees his arm when it starts to tingle. The wizard is eased against his side now. It looks uncomfortable, but the wizard doesn’t seem to mind. They now have the same upward curve on their own mouth as they sigh into deeper sleep.

He’s in awe of the wizard. Not because they’ve defeated thousands of enemies, freed entire civilizations, redirected the course of history, or earned enough gold to have at least a dozen castles and some pets that are probably illegal to own. No, Dasein is in awe of the wizard for living. Against every odd in the spiral and beyond, the wizard is alive. Life is so confusing and dangerous and unpredictable, but the wizard persists. And now, because of them, so does he.

Slowly and shakily, Dasein raises the hand of his recently liberated arm and lets it rest on the wizard’s shoulder. For a second, it looks like the wizard might wake up. But they don’t. Their mastery of sleep must be unparalleled, Dasein thinks.

The Old One’s hat starts to slide off, and Dasein barely catches it before it has the chance to fall onto the wizard and disturb them. Apparently, his head is now dipping as he loses the fight against sleep. He can’t help letting his mouth curve up again as he thinks how silly it must look for two gods to be heaped on a couch like this. He’s still a bit afraid, but he takes one more look at the wizard and promises himself that he’ll trust them on this one. And with that thought, Dasein’s eyes slide closed, and he finally understands another piece of life.

#did I just write w101 fanfic????????#well ummmm here you go!#is this shipping?? idk. read it that way if u want. or don’t. idc :-)#FIIIIINE I’ll use the ship tag just for us degenerates :)#wizsein #wizard101 #w101 #wiz101 #dasein #dasein w101 #w101 fanfic #fanfic #if I don’t tag this right I’ll regret it laterrrr #I wrote something

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imekitty · 6 months ago

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Today I worked on:

Disillusioned: 303 words

Last sentence written:

Yes, that was right, down on the floor like a good—

#today I worked on #7/2/2024 #I originally ended that sentence with 'little bitch' but idk it just didn't sound right lol #also I wrote detailed notes for the rest of the chapter so hopefully I'll be able to finish it quick #my notes are 637 words so it very well might take another thousand words to finally wrap it up #gdi why is writing so exhausting #or maybe it's just the way I write idk I just really like to add in a ton of details and emotion #I really like to just make that angst pop you know

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susielesbianism · 2 years ago

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… anyway

[ID: A cropped screenshot of Deltarune’s battle UI, showing Susie’s MAGIC menu. The options shown are S-Action and Rude Buster, the latter of which has been edited to be underlined in deep blue. End ID]

[ID: A cropped screenshot of Deltarune showing only a textbox. In it, Susie’s dialogue portrait appears excited as she says, “Blood Crushers 3? Hell Busters? Invasion of the Cat Petters?” “Hell Busters” is underlined in deep blue. End ID]

[ID: A cropped screenshot of the final Asriel battle in Undertale, showing only the flavor text. It reads: “Asriel readies ‘CHAOS BUSTER.’” “CHAOS BUSTER” is underlined in deep blue. End ID]

yeah

#anyway. chaos buster to me especially sticks out #because. y’all remember elemental pairs right. when Spamton mentioned those during the q&a during the sweepstakes #(edit: I wrote ‘during’ twice. my redundant adhd ass.)#it’s very likely that rude and chaos are elemental pairs and THATS why Susie can wield the devilsknife #(note: elemental pairs are not the same as a character having two elements)#(so Jevil having chaos;chaos as his elements doesn’t rule this possibility out)#real interested in what hell buster would be though. hypothetically #since hell is not an established element. yet #although it does feel very close to chaos in a way. so idk

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fantasiavii · 8 days ago

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I’m only two and a half books into the Witcher series but I already feel like out of all the fantasy I’ve read, it’s one of the more realistic. Not in a grimdark way but just in a like normal human way. If normal humans lived with fantasy creatures and magic, I would expect them to be this way. Magic exists but Ciri is still too embarrassed to talk about her period. War exists but there are still people willing to take in orphans out of plain goodness and generosity. They even know about germs but Triss can still get gastroenteritis and it’s treated seriously, not as a joke.

#the witcher #me 🤝 andrzej sapkowski #he even handles the topic of abortion with shocking level headedness?#like he basically had a whole passage about how a woman’s right to choose is an obvious and indisputable fact of life regardless of #surrounding circumstances and i have to admit i was very pleasantly surprised?#we’ll see as the books go on but for someone who wrote witches being infertile and ciri as the something more plot #i really was bracing for the book to have more conservative undertones than it does #like patriarchy exists in the world but kind of like…the same way it does in ours?#if that makes sense?#like there’s still some ppl being like ‘a woman can’t—‘ but there’s even more ppl who don’t bat an eye at female warriors and queens and #sex outside of marriage #idk. it’s nice #also appreciate the solidarity with us with digestive problems #doesn’t get talked about nearly enough bc it’s gross but glad to have it be treated normally #hang in there triss ✊🏻

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storywestistrash · 4 months ago

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i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

#fair warning for. a very very long ramble and rant in the tags. apologies #westerner or russian. no other option #westerner because the only thought they ever have is 'but they had universal housing so if you oppose ussr you oppose that'#(which is stupid becuse you can believe in that WITHOUT WANTING LIKE 6 COUNTRIES TO BE FORCED TO BE RULED OVER BY RUSSIA)#(SORRY FOR WANTING TO LIVE IN MY COUNTRY WITH MY HISTORY AND MY CULTURE AND NOT RUSSIA!!) (poland was a sattelite state but GOD)#or russian because they have a victim complex and are convinced that they deserve to rule over the entire damn world #'well you had universal housing so you had it easy' right yeah. okay. forget about like. everything else that happened #to eastern europeans during that time #forget about the things that are STILL issues all these years later not only in poland but like the more eastern countries too #its not about. the fact that the houses 'didnt have 3 bedrooms and a jacuzzi' in them. you DUMB SACK OF SHIT #god sorry. sorry. i also know so very little but like god damn i fucking live here. i didnt sit thru all that modern history #for some dumbfuck to say that 'ohhh only rich and american middle class people are happy the ussr was dissolved'#'oooh the dissolving of the ussr was illegal and the countries within it actually liked being there'#im just so fucking tired man i need to. i need to start killing people #and this is all not to mention that theyll say this stupid shit and then deny eastern europeans the things they actually did that were good #FUCK french people for trying to claim maria skłodowska. fuck americans for trying to claim the witcher as their own fantasy world #fuck the way the west is allowed to claim and destroy eastern european culture without any consequence because we dont matter enough #vaguely related but ill throw this in here since anyone finding it is unlikely and im scared of having this opinion #i think one underappreciated aspect of DE (which might be underappreciated because its not actually there and im stupid)#is that its pro-communist while still also giving some criticism to how it was handled and acknowledging that its still not perfect #which makes the writers much better communists than any self-proclaimed one ive ever met in my life who just worships the idea #perhaps its because the writers of the game were not white upper middle-class americans living in the suburbs. among other things #idk de is a game for people far smarter than me and i only played it once and im sure anyone who played it well can clock me as a bad perso #horrible horrible person even which is why im scared of mentioning it. but its an interesting thing. to me #the main thing is that im just not. im not far left enough i suppose. i agree communism in theory is a great idea. as far as i know it #(which isnt very far)#but chances of implementing it correctly in a way that doesnt take away from peoples happiness in other areas is. low. very low #i wrote a short essay about how utopias are inherently contradictory ideas once it wasnt very deep or good but like #you cant have universal happiness without restricting certain freedoms. and when those freedoms are resticted not everyone #will be happy. and then theyre unhappy they will have to be somehow removed or ignored

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hum--hallelujah · 1 year ago

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like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid

Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.

"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.

Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.

"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.

"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.

Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-

"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."

Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."

Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.

There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.

"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.

"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.

In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.

"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.

Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.

In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.

"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.

Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."

Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.

Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.

"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."

Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.

"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.

He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.

He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.

Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.

"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.

"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.

It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.

Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.

The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.

He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.

"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"

Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.

"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."

Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.

Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.

Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.

The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.

"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.

"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.

"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."

Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."

A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.

"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."

"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.

Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."

"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.

"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"

Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.

Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.

It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.

He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?

If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.

There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.

"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.

Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.

"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.

Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.

Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.

"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.

"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.

"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"

Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."

It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.

Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."

"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.

Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."

Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.

Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."

#uhhhh anyway. come to killjoys world with me #I keep calling these two my mongoose and snake #they take out their worst on each other but at the same time it's like they were *made* for each other #also a few notes in the tags: kobra repeats himself a lot. that's intentional. it's because I do it irl #quite honestly at this point I might almost have a stutter??#anyway also there's a TON of super vague song references in here. I almost called this ''a scar away from falling apart''#but I couldn't stop thinking about that one boygenius song while I wrote this. would you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?#also the two(2) minor refs to famous last words!!!!#and very very loosely the ''what a pair they make'' line is bc what a catch donnie came up on my playlist right then #also this is WAY more swearing than I would usually write but... it just felt right? like it helped the flow?? and fit the characters? idk #ANYWHOMST. random danger days precanon fic. the girl isn't here yet.#she speaks!#HMMM do I need a writing tag for this blog?#she writes!#danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #kobra kid #fun ghoul #K I think I've got it covered #wait trigger tags #self-harm tw #self mutilation tw

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