#its so long and nothing really happens but whatever

[icyowl]

Save Me

Pairing: Vampire Megumi Fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: You discover Megumi's true nature in the worst way: when he nearly devours you in a frenzy. Gojo saves your life, but Megumi is held captive under the school, starving, unable to consume any blood. Can you save him? Will you try after what he's done?

A/N: I promise i'm not dead! Sadly I keep running out of steam before I finish any WIPs, but I powered through for you on this one! Been wanting to do vampire megumi foreverrrrrrr

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The hot blood pouring from your shoulder had been reduced to an afterthought now that the vampire who nearly tore your neck open was barreling after you. There was only one thing you could do:

Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun

Out the bedroom, through the hallway, down the stairs — you passed through most of the building without really taking it in. All that existed were the dank/steaming/slobbering/moist snarls behind you and the burning in your lungs. Air couldn't come fast enough.

His weapons — a pair of bloody inch-long canines and countless claws — were one bad step from having their way with you.

A flash of guilt had your steps slowing for a fraction of a second. You could maybe reason with him or somehow pull him out of it, so, against better judgement, you turned-

“Megu-”

The crazed animal that took his place slammed head-first into the wall next to you, missing your carotid by one flinch of your quivering muscles. Splintered wood sprayed everywhere. If your survival instinct hadn't kicked in when it did, you'd be right in his war path, and likely ripped open (again). Face still partially embedded in the wall, mouth gorging on wood fractures, one of his pulsating eyes fixed you in its wild gaze.

Red hot, with a slitted pupil constricted to a razor sharp sliver.

It wasn't simply inhuman; it was the farthest thing from human. Curses didn't compare to whatever was in those now-ruby eyes.

You gave yourself splinters trying to yank yourself out of his reach. Maybe you could have reasoned with him, maybe you should have, but you didn't trust him not to kill you if you tried. What about the movies where the monster's love interest could subdue his deadly instincts? Yeah, this wasn't a movie. Fuck that.

Every slip of your feet on the hardwood flooring sent a bolt of fear through each nerve in your body. Where could you go? Did you stay away from people and keep them safe, or try to find help? Could you manage that while keeping yourself alive? Air stung your lungs with every brash inhale and your legs began to fatigue. How much longer could you keep this up?

You exploded out of the dorm into the muggy summer air. In time, he would catch you, end you, devour you. Bad idea or not, you needed help.

A bear trap full of claws closed around your side. You screamed as they tore through your clothes and into your skin. In a fit of sheer willpower and for the second time that day, you deliberately pulled your skin from him, the ripping and tearing only worsening. It sucked, but you didn't have a choice. Could you try and lose him in the forest? Lock him in a building? Lure-

You were too busy keeping an eye on the gnashing teeth and snarling yowls of your boyfriend to stop yourself from running head-long into someone. After recovering from the initial shock of hitting the ground hard and heavy, you looked up to a moment of great stillness.

Gojo stood, one hand in his pocket, and the other outstretched to Megumi. What had once been your violent animal now floated helplessly in the air, his lashing talons catching nothing but the humid breeze. He growled deep in his chest, trying with everything he had to break the invisible chains keeping him suspended and kill you, and yet Gojo simply smirked, humored by it all.

“Megumi,” he chided, “I told you something like this would happen.”

It was almost laughable — almost — now that you were safe, alone, staring down your ordinary visage in the bathroom mirror. Three days until you could get a full night's sleep, five days until every sound didn't send your heart into overdrive, and now, one week removed from the incident, you could nearly believe it never happened. Apart from the bandages. Megumi had done a number on you and likely would have feasted on you had Gojo not happened to be in the way. His moans were pained, and when his words turned to garbled growls. . . all this time, he was so different from you, and all this time, you hardly suspected a thing. How could you not see something so important? How could he have deceived you so completely? Would he have ever told you? Was he fine with hiding so much of himself from you?

Your shoulders dipped down and forward. Megumi’s backpack was still at the foot of your bed. His cologne was on your pillow. You smelled it last night before you dreamed of him — a ballad of warmth and peace. Every time you looked at your phone screen you saw a glimmer of his grin from that trip to the carnival however long ago. Dark bruising curtesy of a healing hickey on your throat snickered at you from the mirror; he had been so gentle then.

You would have gone to him already, had Gojo not turned you away at the basement door. It probably wasn’t a good idea to go down there before you’d healed — what if you made it worse? If Megumi lost control from some kissing, what would he do when he saw the bandages or smelled the stitches digging into your skin? But it didn’t feel right to know he was locked up just a ways away while you hid like a child in your room.

Your phone’s buzzing nearly sent you through the ceiling.

Principal Yaga.

“Hello?” You asked warily. Was a week really all he’d give you before he sent you back to class? Your wounds could hardly be considered healed.

“Fushiguro needs your help. Come to the sealing chambers if you can. We're out of options.” His tone was grim (when wasn’t it?). All at once your heart galloped like you were back in the courtyard running for your life. You didn’t see your reflection in the mirror. The lack of color, slack jaw, none of it. All you saw was an image of the man who read to you at night now locked away in a dark room, bound and gagged, a starved circus animal.

At the first door of the sealing chambers it wasn’t Yaga who met you but Gojo. Even with the blindfold, you could tell he wasn’t happy. He held the door open without a word. As soon as you entered the dark hall, tortured cursed energy pressed in on your chest. Sealing tape lined the long corridor Gojo led you through, along with every staircase and every doorway. Talismans of different origins and scripts from countless religions hung from the ceiling. You’d be fearful if Gojo’s words hadn’t kept you preoccupied. Megumi had been unable to keep down any blood he’d been given since your attack, and, since he’d been starving enough by then to trigger a frenzy. . . he was in dire straights now.

“Why can’t he keep anything down?” You asked.

“It’s called taste aversion. You get food poisoning from a restaurant, you never want to go to the same company or get the same kind of food again. His goes beyond that, though. The mind is an incredibly powerful thing – the shame, self-loathing, guilt – his psychological barriers are just as real as any physical ones. Without consuming any nutrients… he’s dying.”

As soon as you walked through the next door to a long, narrow walkway with cells on one side, the shouting and thumping reached your ears.

“No! Don’t bring her in!” Megumi said from down the hall. He could smell your cozy allure, the infernal whispers beckoning the frothing beast under his skin to break through. His teeth ached.

Your stomach squeezed when you saw him; shackles held his wrists on the end of chains bolted to the ceiling. He was on his knees, covered in grime, and wearing the same clothes you’d last seen him in. Stains and a few empty bloodbags dirtied the floor.

As soon as he saw you, he shoved his head in his shoulder to the point of cricking it and slammed shut his bloodstained eyes.

“Get out!” He screamed.

You looked at Gojo who was already studying you. His message was clear: do what you think is right. No judgement. If you ran away yelling, he wouldn’t hold it against you. This was merely something he was willing to try, if you were too. You looked back at Megumi. Dried blood caked his wrists where the cuffs had dug in. His skin touching the metal puffed out smoke where the skin underneath burned. They must have chained him with silver. His skin was pale and gaunt, a sure sign of a starving man. Bits of his hair lay around his knees where it had fallen out. Around him, the walls were etched with staines, fingernail scratches, and symbols of faith.

You knelt across from him. The hard floor pushed at your knees. All you could think to do was roll up your sleeve and hold it out to him. “I’m letting you take my blood, so no more of this aversion stuff. I’m telling you it’s okay, so you can’t reject it.”

Something guttural made you flinch back. He kept his eyes shut even when he turned to say: “I’m never touching you again. I don’t want you here, understand?”

You sighed. Water flooded your mouth and eyes. “You have to eat, Megumi, or you’ll die.”

“Then let me.” He bit back.

You looked to the teacher for answers. Gojo held you in his eyes for a long moment before nodding and bringing up two fingers. Using infinity, he forced the cuffs open. Megumi’s ruby eyes shot open, looking at his hands, sharpened nails still present, to you, and to Gojo.

Megumi only had time to hiss before Gojo was behind him, wrapping an arm around Megumi’s neck and wedging his student’s chin in the crook of his elbow. Gojo’s other hand spread out on the back of Megumi’s head, forcing it forward and putting him in a suffocating headlock. Megumi lurched and growled but couldn’t budge Gojo’s insurmountable strength. He turned frantic when you approached and his noises turned to snarls, hating showing this side of you but hoping he’d reach that primal flight reflex inside you and get you to fear him, to run and leave him in his misery.

“Don’t do this.” Megumi warbled out. His voice was whimpering and tortured. It broke off with a foreign growl. His instincts tried to make him submit. Your heart pulled itself from your ribcage when his eyes watered and his canines descended against his will. Every part of his body was trying to reach for your supple skin, close the gap, find that sweet release, but his mind was fighting valiantly to resist the pull. In the middle of the war was his heart, damaged and vulnerable and begging for salvation.

“It’s okay.” You tried. You pressed your arm against his lips. Still, he wouldn’t budge. You pressed harder, until his teeth were smashed to your skin, yet he wouldn’t bite.

Gojo tightened his hold until Megumi involuntarily gasped for air, giving you a chance to dive your arm into his open mouth and impale it on his fangs. It fucking hurt, sure, you yelled and flinched in spite of yourself, no doubt making it worse for Megumi, but you were far more focused on him. Megumi clawed at Gojo’s arm, trying to pull away, but soon the sensation of your blood flowing down his throat hit his nervous system and he stilled, eyes glazing over and a tear escaping down his cheek. Audible swallows interrupted the sudden quiet and you let out a heavy breath. As scary as he might have looked, glowing eyes and snarling face and intermittent growls, the relief you felt at hearing those quiet gulps washed over you from head to toe.

His claws turned from trying to push himself out of Gojo’s hold to pulling you closer. Megumi’s grip became untamed, readjusting and tightening, not caring how he tore open your skin. Hot tears fell from your eyes. You weren’t sure how long you could keep from wailing. “How much does he need?”

“Depends.”

Sweat was breaking out over your face. “What?”

“If you can hang in until he recovers himself, he might see he can control it. That should cure the avoidance, but it won’t be fun, and it might not even work. It’s up to you.”

Your neurons turned to sludge, so all you did was nod. Against your will, your sense of balance was leaving you. To comfort Megumi, and anchor yourself, your other hand rested on his head, petting the thick, unruly strands.

“It’s okay. Even when I saw what you were. . . I trusted you. That’s why you bit me before; because I believed you wouldn’t kill me. I’m sorry I wasn’t someone you thought you could trust. I. . . I’ll be better, from now on.”

Again Megumi’s struggling changed. His eyes, previously wide open yet unseeing, slammed shut, his face pinching in a struggle. Moans of pleasure became grunts of effort. Your forehead fell against his. From here, you could smell your blood and his shampoo in the small space between you. “It’s okay, don’t fight it. I want to help you. I want this.”

Though he writhed against Gojo’s abominable strength like a predator in a bear trap, you were growing statuesque. Cold crept up your arm. Blood turned frigid in your veins. Shadows settled in your ears and eyes until the world seemed very far away. All you felt were the fine serrations on his canines as Megumi’s movements wove them deeper into your sinew. His growls took on a melodic quality, a primal war chant from a bygone era. It was a deep rumble you imagined sounded just like the thrum of the earth. This was easy. Peaceful, even.

A herculean pull yanked your arm off his canines with a squelching pop and spray of blood. Megumi’s effort made you tumble onto your back. Blood poured from the wounds on your arm. When he could finally get his eyes to focus, you were unconscious and unmoving.

Some sort of hissing moan escaped him. The fresh blood in his belly threatened to come up. “No. . . no.” He groaned around his fangs. His words were unintelligible. Gojo could sense his cursed energy - the guilt within - and let him go. Megumi crept to you, and stopped with his hand just above your arm. He strained over the sound of his tears to barely catch the whoosh of your breaths. Alive. Still alive.

Something gripped his muscles - not hunger or thirst, but a different kind of insatiable desire. A feeling to have you, not as food, but as. . . something necessary all the same. He had to draw you to him or risk some kind of death; he could feel it in his bones. At the edge of your consciousness, your latched into his grimy shirt, right where the lurch in his stomach had begun to calm. Megumi worried about his claws on your skin - he’d hurt you so many times with them already - but nevertheless couldn’t let go.

“That’s pretty cute, like a dog growling over its bowl.” Gojo remarked, smirking at the glare his student was giving him. Megumi didn’t even notice the hisses leaving him or the baring of his sharp fangs. “Tell me, do you feel sick?”

Fire or love tinged his vision an opaque red. His teacher, the prison, even you were reduced to a slurry of wavering shapes and twisted movement. The blood had begun to settle in his stomach, and with it came the grip of shame. Fck, what had he done? He was such a monster he couldn’t even see that carnage he left behind, but he smelled the blood mixing with the dirt on the ground under you, could feel it coagulating between his fingers and cooling under his nails, heard the weak rasp of your lungs fighting for every inhale. He had ruined you.

Something gnawed at his stomach. His hand rushed to his mouth. The blood roiled in his belly and began digging its way up his esophagus. How could he have done this to you?

Still blind, he felt your chest tense, heard your hand push through the air, but nevertheless flinched when your wobbling fingers brushed at the blood and tears drying on his cheek. Your thumb pushed away his upper lip to caress the flat of his fangs. “Please,” you whispered, “don’t stop me from helping you. Don’t keep me from loving you. It’s what I want more than anything.”

And more than his desire to protect you was his need to fulfill you.

Megumi swallowed the tears and the blood at the back of his throat. If this was what you wanted, then he had to try. If he was good for anything, let it be this. He pressed his forehead to yours, staining your face and filling your nose with the stench of dirt and blood. Who knew love was so vile.

“Not that this isn’t cute, in a teen angst sorta way,” Gojo chimed, “but she needs a transfusion. You need to let go.”

Megumi’s eyes cleared. The first thing he saw was your gaze, glassy and sluggish, but unwavering from his own. He smelled the oxytocin wafting from you.

“No,” he shook his head while his fingers kissed your face, “she only needs me.” His hand dove into his mouth and with a silent snarl he burrowed his fangs deep in his wrist. You tried to stop him, but weren’t fast enough. The sound of it should have made you flinch, but the gleam of his scarlet eyes and the slitted pupils had you fascinated. He pulled his mouth away with a wet schlop and held it against your lips.

You pulled your lips around the wound and began to suck. To be fair, you didn’t expect to feel different right away, but as soon as you swallowed, a warmth spread out from your core - knitting the cuts, curing the bruises, and healing the puncture wounds. The pounding in your head, the adrenaline dumped in your veins, it all dissipated in the gentle heat of a morning sun. After a couple of gulps Megumi’s own bite mark had closed, leaving nothing but a pleasant aftertaste under your tongue. Even his own blood didn’t want to harm you by tasting bad.

Megumi’s head lurched towards the door, seeing past Gojo, hearing something far away.

“Who’s coming?” Gojo asked.

“Yaga. Nanami and Ieiri, too. They’re not happy.”

A rush of hurried steps followed some time after. Yaga was sweaty and livid.

“Gojo,” he roared, “she was meant to comfort him, not feed him!”

Gojo rose to stand in front of him. “I wasn’t gonna let anything bad happen.”

“This,” he threw a hand at the two of you, “doesn’t count as bad?! You’ve endangered your own students!”

Gojo was having none of that. His playful tone evaporated. “If I thought for a second he might kill her, I’d have stopped him instantly.”

The bickering continued in your peripheral. All you concerned yourself with was brushing the dirt off his face while he watched, listening to the ever-stronger beats of your steady heart.

[korgidorgi]

I LOVE YOUR WINGED READER STUFF.

At the end of your HC with Mel, you mentioned that Reader and Mel see each other after the fic with Ambessa. So, and hear me out, Singed turns Reader into a giant monster to fight in the war‼️

Mel Medarda x Winged!Reader - new plot idea (thanks anon :3)

I actually already have a plan for the next bit of the story, but I really do love that idea! So I’ve maybe kinda added an alternate timeline for you :)

This was actually super fun to write, thank you so much for the prompt! I’m so glad you like my series!!!! I didn’t really do the giant monster thing, but I did practically get rid of everything that makes King Raven King Raven >:3 (lmk if you really want the big scary monster reader and I’ll write another one this was so funnn)

Idk when I’m posting this, but I wanna post it now bc all I’ve been doing the last few days is writing writing writing for this Winged!Reader series thing. The hyper fixation is hyper fixating and I can’t stop it. Gods I need to learn patience lmaoooo (I lied I wrote for 6 hours and now I’m posting)

Lowkey, this can be a follow up next chapter to the Ambessa fucking hates you fic. Like, it actually flows and that one makes this all make sense. Nothing feels better than puzzle pieces putting themselves together for a project you never thought would be a project. Like, I’ve had this fucking character in my head since before season two came out and this just let me put it all together and develop this story for myself. (Maladaptive daydreamer much?) Anyways, I’ll stop ranting and raving, I just actually lost myself in writing this wsjjkanjsidfiwj.

Oh my gyatt this is a long one…

Warnings: Violence, cursing, mind control?, blood, injuries, angst

Summary: basically the above ask.

Ambessa still has you in her possession, hidden away from the world. Singed runs the final ‘treatment’ you’d failed to receive three years ago when he first had you in his lab, when he first made you into his creation. Under Noxian control, possession, and guard, you remain close to his needles and his concoctions. With the help of the Herald’s existence and the relationship with Singed’s work, your mind becomes entangled with thoughts that are not yours. Commands slip into your head, your body obeys. Flashes of what’s happening feel like a dream, or a bad trip. Sound is a whirr in your mind, blending together in a cacophony of noise. You’re unable to make out what is producing them, let alone be able to separate them. Your mind is barely present, pushed down by whatever concoctions Singed has pumped into you once again. Trying to fight the loss of control is painful, a way to keep you compliant, keep you beaten back and unable to defy your destiny.

Flashes of large ships stain your mind, just barely in focus. The harsh clinking of metal, chains, waves against a hull, people shouting, Ambessa barking orders. It’s a blur. The only thing crystal clear in your head is the orders you’ve been given by Singed and Ambessa. It’s hard to focus on anything but your orders, even then, you blindly follow, unable to stop your own body from moving on its own accord. Your body is wrapped in red and metal. Noxian war garments. A new, metallic mask adorns your face, a twisted version of a falcon with sharp edges and a dark aura. Your hands grip the weapons in your hands; a Noxian war spear in one, and a close combat heavy blade gauntlet in the other.

The boat lurches, and the utter of a single word sends you into action. Your wings spread, beating quick and sending you into the air. Dodging projectiles, you use your weapons expertly, fighting with horrifying swiftness and strength. Piltovian’s stand no chance against you. You’re stabbing, slashing, swinging, wrestling with anyone you come across. Each face your eyes focus on only reveal the same sinister face that put you in this position, the face that causes agony whenever you see it. Rage boils in your blood, activating the Shimmer in your body. Pain surges through your body and your mind, forcing you to continue and discouraging any urge to disobey.

You’ve flown past the enemy lines, far into their territory. Your objective to clear a path to the Hexgates at any means necessary. You slaughter your way to the building, leaving so much blood in your wake. Stepping up the staircase to the front doors of the building, you wipe the blood from your weapons, revealing the shimmering steel beneath the red liquid. The heavy doors are locked, but it’s not a problem for you. One swift, Shimmer-fueled kick to it breaks the locking mechanisms. The doors uselessly swing open slowly, groaning as the hinges protest. More enforcers are inside, opening fire the moment they see you. You move quickly, dodging most of their fire as you rush them one by one. Blood splatters across your form with each enforcer you take out, staining your red drapes, your feathers, and your armor. Only a few stray bullets hit their mark, but only to just end up grazing you. Small tears in your outfit build up, showing the others how much strength you wield against them despite each injury you sustain. None of your injuries slow you down, your body moving like a machine. Your movements are automatic, calculated, the end goal to remove everyone who stands against you. The Shimmer in your veins helps to begin closing the wounds, keeping you moving towards your objective.

His face is everywhere. No matter how many times you rid your vision of him, another version of him pops up, another sting of pain paired with it. You close in on him, quickly slashing his throat with your spear before he can fire at you. Another version of him fires at you from down the hall. Your eyes snap over to him and your body moves on instinct, quickly closing in on him. You thrust your spear into his chest, easily slicing through his blue armor and quickly staining it a dark red. He falls from the tip of your spear, only for another version to take his place further down the hall. It’s a nightmare you can’t wake from. The only way forward is to fight, to kill until you stop seeing his face. You remove the blade from another body, huffing as you do. Confusion, rage, panic, it all flows through your system, your mind. You can feel that something is wrong with you, but you’re so disorientated, stuck in this twisted nightmare that feels so real with the pain searing through your body.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, focusing on clearing the way to the Hexgates. One more figure stands in your way. Singed stands at the end of the hall, donned in a white cloak, a hood over his head. There is no weapon in his hands, only the golden threat of pain swirling around him.

His words are muffled, making your vision blur more. You shake your head, trying to clear your vision. You can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s so similar to his voice, but there’s another element to it. Something gentle.

“Get out of my head…” You seethe at him, your grip on your weapons increasing as you begin to take strides towards him.

With a wave of his hand, a wave of golden pain rushes towards you. You swiftly dodge it, beating your wings to get an advantage above him. Before you can get too high to make your move, two golden tendrils wrap around your ankle, pulling you back down to the ground. You quickly adapt, swiftly closing in on him to land a strike against him. You miss. He’s too quick and sends another wave of gold at you, his mottled voice ringing out yet again, this time his tone is a bit more desperate. Only a few of his words stick in your mind.

“I… …not… …r— enemy—“

His voice is barely understood, fading in and out of your mind, but it doesn’t sound like him. It’s something softer. Familiar.

Despite it, you don’t stop your objective. Your body moves against your will, continuing to strike out at him. Your body and mind are still driven by fear and illusions, working like an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

With each golden wave of potential pain sent your way, you fight harder. It’s a very balanced face off. But you don’t let the golden waves touch you. Who knows how painful he’ll make you. You can’t get close enough to land a hit on him, but neither can he. It doesn’t seem like he’s fighting very hard to stop you, but hard enough to keep you at bay.

“Fucking fight me you coward!” You urge him angrily, rushing in to try to land another hit.

Before you can reach him, another golden wave comes at you from the side, sending you into the walls of the hall. You let out a grunt at the contact, your mask flying off your face and landing on the floor with a metallic clatter.

Something jostles in your mind. Now your mind can’t make up if your looking at him, or Mel. That’s impossible. Mel is still missing. She can’t be here. Not with Singed.

You shake your head, trying to clear your vision and your mind. You let out a growl, fighting against another golden wave that tries to pin you to the wall. He speaks again, the voice muffled, distorted. Like there’s two people talking at the same time. He approaches you, a hand outstretched to keep you at bay with his golden magic. The closer he gets, the more confusing everything becomes. You’re seeing two faces on the same body, sending waves of intense emotional distress, polar opposites. It’s overwhelming, causing pain to shoot through your mind. You lash out again, trying to keep him away, to end him, to stop the mental torment. Mel is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Please!” He pleads with you, sending another wave of energy to keep you against the wall. “Remember!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You scream at him, your vision flicking between Mel’s face and Singed’s.

You fight against the golden energy, but it’s stronger than your body, keeping you in your vicinity as he approaches you. You shake your head again, trying to right your mind and your vision, to try to make sense of this nightmare. Despite how unreal everything looks and sounds, the pain and emotion surging through your body and mind screams otherwise. You can’t tell what is what anymore, if anything is even real.

You break free of the golden energy, rushing him again with unparalleled speed. You manage to push him back, pinning him against the wall on the opposite side of the hall. You hold your blade against his throat, your body freezing as you pin him to the wall. Your mind can’t make up who you’re looking at. You can’t bring yourself to hurt her.

“What did they do to you, my Dove?”

The first cohesive sentence uttered since your mind got thrown into a blender. Your chest feels like it’s being squeezed, but your body remains frozen. Singed would never know to say that. Despite your mind flicking through the two different faces, one thing that remains constant is the eyes. Full of concern and sorrow, holding a tenderness only one person has ever shown you. Your breaths come out in ragged huffs, your mind erupting in pain as you try to piece everything together.

A hand comes up to gently move a piece of hair from your face, the touch gentle, so gentle. The longer you look, the more clear her face becomes, the illusions beginning to fade from your mind and vision. A soft, warm, golden glow emanates from her hand, her face slowly coming into focus, the illusions of Singed’s wrinkled, bandaged face slowly fading. You blink, shaking your head slightly before focusing back on her.

“Mel…?” You ask so softly, your voice breaking.

Your grip loosens on her, noticing the heavy blade you have against her throat. A stab of guilt washes over you, sending a small electric shock through your chest. Slowly, you come to your senses, but the pain in your head begins to increase. Your face contorts into one of pain as you try to fight it, trying to believe that Mel is here. And you almost killed her.

You back away from her, your body trembling from the emotional and reality whiplash. Your weapon drops to the ground with a loud clatter, echoing through the hall. Your hands move to your head as the pain increases. The room begins to spin, sending you stumbling back as you try to right your bearings. Pained cries leave your lips, both from the physical pain and emotional overwhelm. Tears streak down your cheeks, both from pain and intense anguish. You can’t bring yourself to look at her again, backing away from her. You glance down at the armor you’re clad in, noticing the blood staining the metal and soaking it the cloth.

A soft hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You flinch from her touch, backing away from her yet again. Your eyes meet hers, wide with fear and anguish as you finally see her face. The pain in your head is intense, making it hard to focus. Mel just takes another couple steps to you, placing both of her hands on each side of your face.

“My Dove…” She murmurs softly, her eyes taking in your physical and mental torment. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She presses her forehead against yours, her eyes closing softly. You lean into her touch, your body losing the strength to continue with your orders from Ambessa. It’s like a filter has been removed from your mind, or maybe placed in to filter out the filth that’s been clouding your mind. Everything is still confusing, you’re still trying to piece together what you’ve just done, what you’ve been seeing, acting upon.

A choked sob leaves your throat, your knees becoming weak under her touch. The way she so quickly forgives you. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you against her as you cry, apologies tumbling from your mouth as you cling to her.

“Its okay, Dove.” She reassures you, her voice soft, smooth like silk. “You weren’t in control. It wasn’t you.”

You try to compose yourself, remembering the war that’s happening outside. After a few moments, you pull back, gazing at her, taking in the golden markings that adorn her skin. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, your thumb gently stroking across her skin, tracing over the gold.

“I can’t believe you’re really here…” You murmur softly, your voice threatening to break again.

“I’m here, Y/N,” she reaffirms to you, giving you a small squeeze to emphasize her statement. “I always will be.”

“We can’t stay here.” You speak again, pulling back from her, albeit reluctantly.

“I know.” She replies solemnly. “We have to stop Viktor from getting to the Hexgates.”

“Yeah,” you confirm quietly.

She takes a step towards you, not allowing you to pull away from her.

“He’s not in the sphere.” You reveal to her, trying to remember the flashes of Ambessa’s plans. “It’s a diversion.”

“Then where is he? How is he getting to the Hexgates?” She asks, concern evident in her tone.
“I don’t know, exactly.” You admit, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she brings a hand to your cheek again, gently guiding you to look at her again. “You can only do what you can.”

••• ••• •••

The telltale sound of a rifle firing rings from the other side of the door. There’s a glow about Mel, a physical manifestation of her magic. The large doors of the building swing open as Mel approaches them, sunlight bathing the hall in its warmth. She approaches Ambessa, lowering her hood.

You look out at the terrace from behind her, seeing Caitlyn kneeling on the ground, a body collapsed right next to her. The slew of Noxian soldiers awaiting Ambessa’s orders, red flags waving in the wind.

“If you care for me at all, spare their lives.” Mel speaks as she strides out onto the terrace of the building. “There is nothing to gain from this senseless bloodshed!”

Ambessa rolls her eyes at Mel’s appearance. “Still a fox.” She scoffs before calling out to her soldiers.

Her soldiers weapons raise, broad shields protecting their bodies. Mel glances around at the army before her. A distant approaching sound of music echos through the city, an airship rounding a corner and setting off explosions as it enters the airspace. People on hoverboards launch themselves from the craft, descending on the soldiers. Everyone’s attentions are on the cacophony above.

“Fire!” Ambessa orders, taking a swing at the Firelights as they swoop in from above.

Chaos erupts as the soldiers follow her orders, attacking the firelights as they close in. Some of the soldiers engage Mel and yourself, the two of you defending yourselves against the soldiers. The scuffle ends quickly, however. The ground shakes as a large block slams into the cocoon like sphere, smashing it into pieces. You immediately rush over to Mel, using your wings to wrap around her to shield her from the blast. Mel also shields the two of you from the debris with her magic, a golden shield appearing between the two of you and the impact. Once the dust settles, you step back from her, glancing between the diversion and Ambessa.

Ambessa smirks at the two of you, glancing at Caitlyn’s fallen face. Her soldiers move to create a ring around you, a sort of battle ring.

“Mother, look at the price of your ambition.” Mel speaks again, glancing around at the chaos of the city, taking another step forward. “You’ve sacrificed everything. Rictus, Kino, the city I built for this family.”

“If it was for us, you wouldn’t have fought me.” Ambessa sneers at her.

Mel scoffs at her mother. “You are no Medarda.”

“You remember your—“

A sudden blow from Caitlyn cuts Ambessa’s response off. “Shut up and fight!”

Caitlyn grabs an unattended spear from the ground, readying herself to take on the warlord. Without words, Ambessa picks up her own spear before launching it at Caitlyn. Mel deflects the spear with her magic, the weapon ricocheting off the shield and embedding itself into one of the Noxian soldiers surrounding the terrace. Ambessa doesn’t wait before sending her foot into Caitlyn, breaking the hilt of her spear and sending her stumbling back. She puts on her own helmet, preparing for a fight against the three of you. Between Mel’s Magic and Caitlyn’s desperation, Ambessa continues to hold her own. Caitlyn and Mel trade attacks, but are unable to do much against the warlord. Mel’s magic just gets absorbed by runic stones wrapped around Ambessa’s arm. The woman fights through a slash to her leg by Caitlyn, easily taking the younger woman down. Mel moves in for a close quarters attack, still using her magic against her to almost no effect.

You stalk around the other side of Ambessa, waiting for a good moment to strike. While she’s distracted with Mel and Caitlyn, you quickly move in, raising your own weapon to take a slash at her. She senses your attack, pushing Mel back before turning her attention to you and colliding with you, flipping you over her shoulder. Her attention is divided by the three of you, but she’s good at staying on top of your movements. You scramble to your feet again, ignoring the searing pain in your abdomen, beating your wings and going in for another attack, this time from above.
Ambessa flips Caitlyn onto the ground again, using her stones to simultaneously block another magical attack from Mel. Before you can land a hit on the warlord, she dodges, grabbing one of your wings, and throws you to the ground once more. She doesn’t let go, bringing her foot down on it with a snap. She lets out a smug scoff at your cries of pain, enjoying the way you remain somewhat under her control, even if you’ve broken through the mental force of it. She sends her boot into the side of your head, finally dropping your wing at the dazed expression on your face. She stalks towards Caitlyn, who grabs a broken spear. She moves in for her own attack, but Ambessa quickly reverses the roles, holding the blade dangerously close to Caitlyn’s face. A golden shield tries to prevent the the blade from touching Caitlyn, but in the end, Ambessa’s blade hits his mark, slicing through Caitlyn’s face.

Ambessa stands, triumphant over Caitlyn as she watches the blood gush from her face and onto the ground. She pulls her mask off.

“You fought well, child.” She speaks down to her, watching the blood drip from Caitlyn’s eye.

Her eyes finally catch the small blade in Caitlyn’s hand, the stones on the ground, and it dawns on her.

“Now!” Caitlyn shouts back to Mel.

You glance from your dazed position, over to see Mel rise from the ground, her eyes boring into her mother’s.

“A wolf has no mercy.” She speaks, her hand landing on a thick necklace.

Your vision begins to fade in and out, the combination of the pain and injuries you’ve sustained beginning to take a toll on you. You try to rise, your strength sapped from you from the fight. Pain shoots through your wing. It’s bent at an angle it shouldn’t bend in, in an area that doesn’t bend. Your chest heaves at the pain and exhaustion, but your grit through it, focusing on folding your wings and sealing them back in the ink of your back tattoo. It’s an agonizing process with the damage done to your wing. You no longer feel the pain in your wing, but in the ink embedded in your skin where they’re stored.

When you finally gain the strength to sit up a bit, you look over to see Mel approach her mother. She catches the taller woman, gently bringing her down to the ground and cradling her in her lap. It’s hard to watch. Despite the life the woman had led, she was still Mel’s mother.

You force yourself to your feet, pushing past the pain of a multitude of injuries. As the adrenaline wears off, the pain becomes more pronounced, even revealing injuries you hadn’t realized you’d sustained. You limp over to Mel, lowering yourself to your knees at her side. Your hand rests softly on her shoulder, a small gesture of comfort if she’ll accept it.

That’s when the strings from above latch themselves to every single person, Noxian, Piltovian, Zaunite. Linking them— you— to the Arcane, to Viktor. It feels almost identical to what Singed had done to you, the magic of the arcane flowing almost the same as the Shimmer in your veins.

It doesn’t last long, an explosion from the top of the Hexgates sounds off. The strings are destroyed, dropping everyone back to the ground.

It aggravates your wounds again, your blood pooling on the ground more than before. The feeling of soft hands on your face and shoulder encourage you to open your eyes. You meet Mel’s eyes, concern etched into her features. She looks over your injuries, wincing at the sight of you all beaten up, your blood pooling on the ground beneath you.

You raise a shaky hand to rest on one of her wrists, your fingers gently wrapping around her. She can see the pain in your eyes, and you hers.

“I’m okay…” You try to reassure her, forcing a small smile. “Are you… are you okay?”

You look over her for any injuries of her own before she guides your face back to look at her.
“I’m unharmed.” She replies softly.

“Mel… I…” You try to speak, but you’re almost at a loss for words.

Her thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry about your mother…” You finally speak, leaning into her touch, your eyes closing again.

“Don’t be.” She responds, her voice soft but firm.

She doesn’t say anything more. She just pulls you closer to her, embracing you gently.

[just-null]

Wowie rly digging the yandere clone headcanons… how would each react if their darling tried to run away from them?!

You said tried so I assume this was a failed attempt!

Short answer: they get really upset and try making it your fault (shocker.) Ain't no way any of these mfs think they're the problem. Good news! you're mostly unharmed and alive.

This will just be purely writing bc i mostly had thoughts! sorry no drawing this time!!

[cw! mentions of potential harm to reader (no actual harm done), manipulation, toxic relationship dynamics (yandere flavor), obsessive behavior]

Sekido

You're always being hunted the moment the sun comes down and you don't return home in time. Reasons like that are exactly why he hates it when you part from him. 

This time is different.. he can't find you in your usual spots. There's no fucking way, right?

How could you.. No, how DARE you? Do you think that he's some joke? That his feelings for you are something that you can run away from like it's nothing? 

The second he's sure the sun won't harm him, he's already white knuckling his khakkhara, swinging at anything and everything in his path until he gets to you.

They know how to sense if you're near or not, hell, they probably know how your specific blood type smells like. 

Did you think cuddling up to you and memorizing every detail about you was for nothing? Don't be stupid. All he needs is a trace of you and he's gone in the blink of an eye.

You better enjoy running while you can because when he catches you, and he will, those legs of yours won't have much use after he's done with them. 

Sekido doesn't WANT to do this, but you honestly give him no choice. After he trusted you enough to stop looking over his shoulder, you do this? How can he ever put any faith in you again!?

On the bright(?) side, Sekido's rage wouldn't be solely on you, it'll ricochet onto everyone, especially the other clones and himself. 

They were supposed to be looking after you! But they can't do anything right, even a task as simple as this. 

And why did he think it was a good idea to trust them with something of big importance when all they do is fuck everything up!? Everyone's idiocy is rubbing off on him!

The entire time on his search for you, he's cursing and wanting to crush anything he can get his hands on, especially your bones. 

He doesn't even bother with speaking to the others, too busy spewing out all sorts of hurtful and frustrated comments about everything. 

The brutal thought that you’d rather run away than be with him isn't one he wants to entertain, but it's echoing in his head.

At least, once the other clones get there, Karaku and Aizetsu brawl with Sekido so you're unharmed while Urogi carries you overhead. 

Sekido's jealousy flares up when he sees you in Urogi's arms, making him even more pissed if that's even possible. Great, now he looks like the bad guy and the other three, the saviors. Fucking perfect.

There's a lot of yelling and a lot of blood, especially with Urogi making things so much more annoyingly difficult in the air. Karaku and Aizetsu aren't helping. Why is Sekido suddenly the problem?! You ran away!! 

But when he calms down enough, he's cursing at everyone through clenched teeth. Sometimes trying to convince the others that you don't even need your legs anyway!!

Once you get back home (or temporary prison until you somehow regain favor), Sekido will eye your legs while gripping his staff from time to time. 

Exactly why he's forbidden to be in a room alone with you for a while until he settles down..

He glares at you more often and grows colder than before. Arguments are more common where he twists your words just to have you talk with him and be angry within reason. 

Any other type of conversation makes him so irrationally upset that the others need to step in so that he doesn't lose his temper again.

Karaku

The calmest out of the group. He brushes it off as “you're playing hard to get” again, and if he makes a ruckus, you'll scamper back and beg him to stop like always!

Then it gets darker out.. and when Sekido left, he seemed pretty pissed. Like more than usual..... shit.

Karaku sprints after Sekido when it clicks that he's found you. His mind starts reeling, unsure whether he should laugh at the absurdity of your decisions or get pissed off because you didn't even bother to give a hint! 

Not like that would do anything aside from give you away but regardless!

Everyone needs to relax, this is obviously something they can sweep under the rug. This isn't that big of a deal and you're just having a fit, but things like these can get you hurt, y'know? 

They're fun and all, sure, just maybe give him a heads up next time, yeah? Sekido can't take a joke, you know this!!! Still.. There's a way Karaku can work with this.

He'll be able to swoop in, save you, be your hero, and remind you why staying with him is kinda important. Just in case you forgot~ 

You don't wanna be out and about without his charming grin and protective hold would you? Don't answer that right now, he has a feeling you'll say something wrong!

Yet.. what if you need a firmer hand to remind you of what Karaku provides? What if you got a little too comfortable being protected so you thought you'd be alright leaving them? Man, who knew you could be spoiled!

Because of this, he would purposely fumble, letting Sekido get near you just so he can stop him at the perfect moment. He purposely gets hit too and makes sure some blood gets near you. To remind you how that could've been yours.

When Sekido calms down, Karaku laughs in your face and would pinch your cheeks if you weren't up in the air with Urogi on the way home.

You should've seen your face! It was really cute~! Maybe getting scared is your thing? He'll note that for later.

He offhandedly advises you not to do things like that all the time, fighting Sekido always kinda sucks, but it's not like you actually had a chance of successfully running away so he won't chastise you too much for it. 

That's not his job, and his heart hasn’t pumped that fast in a long time.. not even in a fight! You're so amazing~~

And delusional if you think he's not going to milk this “heroism” thing back there for some extra affection points with you. 

Don't be so mean. he got his head blown off twice and jaw dislocated thrice, not to mention everywhere else on his body. Don't you think those parts of him need some extra loving? more than usual?

There's not that much Karaku can say after that aside from reminiscing like it was a funny story. He's not upset about it, mostly a little miffed you got kinda far without him noticing, but he gets over it. 

The usual routine starts back up for him when you're back home. It's like nothing happened, but he keeps a closer eye on you since everyone's so tense.

Urogi

If you're not home before the sun sets, Urogi's clawing at the walls with stress. He usually accompanies Sekido to go find you, but this time is different. Urogi could just barely tell you were around.. When Sekido bolts, Urogi's flying as fast as he can, trying to find you first. 

You're so far.. you must've gotten kidnapped!!!!!

The stress from before burns into anger, expecting to see someone having their hands on you while you're calling out in vain. How could he let this happen?! Damn sun! 

He darts through the skies even faster imagining it, and when he finally reaches you, you look.. fine? and alone. and looking at him like he's the danger. He's here to save you, dummy..

Urogi falls to his knees, burying his face against your stomach and finally wrapping his arms around you again. Your fists violently hit his head and yank fistfuls of hair back, but it doesn't phase him. 

Your comforting warmth is back, that's all that matters. And god, your smell.. it's almost making him dizzy. He missed you so much.

There's many holes to the story in Urogi's head as to why you're so far from home, but he fills them in with more convoluted delusions. It's just a peaceful reunion right now.. 

That is until Sekido finally arrives and starts swinging his khakkhara way too close to your fragile bones. 

Now he's back in defense mode where he scoops you up and tries flying out of reach. This is so stressful!!! There's lightning everywhere and he keeps having to dodge the multiple staffs thrown his way. 

He shields you with his wings as best he can while trying to stay in the air, so you don't get hurt during Sekido's outburst.

In the skies, it's much clearer to see the hurt behind the haunting glow of Urogi's eyes. Did you care about how he might feel? Did you miss him at all? Did you not feel loved enough? Did someone say something to you? 

As he maneuvers the sky, he holds you as tightly as possible, lightly digging his talons into your skin.

Being without you for a couple hours is agonizing enough on its own. If you HAD left him, abandoned, cold, alone.. he doesn't want to think about it. All that matters is that your kidnappers or liars or whatever influenced you are gone, and you're back safe with them!!! 

You.. you still like him, right? Of course you do, fate wouldn't force your paths together if it wasn't for a reason!

Coming back home is uncomfortably tense, especially with how violently Aizetsu kicked Urogi across the room, nearly through the wall, when he tried to lick your wounds clean. It really hurt! 

When you're patched up, Urogi is ten times as clingy if that's possible. He has his arms looped around you constantly so you can't stray too far, and if his hands are busy, he always has his wings!

As happy as he is that you're back, he can't help but cry into your chest sometimes. Everything is so tense nowadays, he hates it! How could you go and do something like that? Apologize immediately! Or at least hold him too? Doubt creeps in a lot, and your attitude isn't helping.. 

His mood swings are stronger. From sobbing uncontrollably into your clothes to being all smiles and radiating with joy the next just because you said something vaguely decent.

Aizetsu

The demotivation started to creep in the second you left. During the day, Aizetsu sits by the door, wanting to be the first one you properly greet. Sekido and Urogi usually bring you back and he'll be the one in your good graces without lifting a finger. That sounds nice.. 

But as the footsteps fade and the silence lingers, Aizetsu feels miserable the longer he waits... Hold on, silence?

Before he realizes what's happening, he's already dashing to where the familiar commotion is coming from. Dread sets in as his legs take him as fast as they can whilst being the slowest of the four. This doesn't feel like they're rushing over to you after a long day, it feels.. dangerous?

What did you get yourself into..? Why do you insist on going to places Aizetsu can't follow? Are you safe? He hates not knowing.

Usually you're the one who's fine. You deal with four demons almost daily! Please please please be okay. He can't fathom it if you were hurt. 

When he gets there, the puzzle pieces fall into place and Aizetsu gets even more depressed, but at least you're not hurt. Well, not if he interferes. His movements are sluggish, a perpetual frown plastered on his face as he tries holding Sekido down. 

Aizetsu wants to dissolve into the floor, and he does sometimes. Not wanting to fight Sekido off anymore, he slumps over. 

This could've been a regular day where you came home.. Are you serious? Leaving? How pitiful could you be to actually think you could get away? Or was it that you wanted to play some sick joke on them? Well, it's not very funny... It's terrible actually.

Aizetsu stays silent on the way home, walking with a bit more energy knowing you're near despite his heart ache.

You can feel the harrowing disappointment radiating off of him the moment you all go back home.

He's tired, annoyed, and so unbelievably upset. Aizetsu grimaced when Urogi got near your scratches with his tongue, so he “politely” ushered him away. 

Knowing a human's weak points is good in battle, but he started trying to learn how to heal them, specifically because he knew these types of things might happen.

As he cleans your scratches, he's actively scolding you for leaving in a cold emotionless tone. And by scolding, he's using manipulative language, trying to make you guilty for everything you did. 

He barely has the energy to live, but now that he finally found his light in the darkness, you want to leave? Is it so wrong he wants to hold onto what makes him even a smidgen happier than usual? He reminds you that he'll wither away without you, but he's not really too keen on dying just yet.

When he tries to get back into a routine, he just can't. He knows why you left, but he doesn't want to hear it. Even if you're sweet to him or not, he'll hold you from behind when you rest.

Looking at you is too much, but being away from you is even worse. Aizetsu compromises this way, but gets quieter, occasionally sniffling when he hides his face behind you.

There's too much going on and he's so tired.. If it weren't for the others, he probably would've held you so tight for so long so that you both would perish together.

Maybe that’s why he's only allowed to hold you when you're asleep. Just please don't do that again.. He NEEDS you. Please, please, please.

Safe to say you gave them a scare. When they double down on the protectiveness, living is ten times more difficult for EVERYBODY. when you lose their trust, it's pretty difficult to gain it back, but not impossible!!

Sekido and Urogi will always assume the worst if you're gone for too long while Karaku and Aizetsu give you a little more freedom until the others drag them along into their worries.

[dykedvonte]

See like the only reason I think the others seriously believed Curly may have crashed the ship is cause he basically had a 30 Rock "I lie to myself" momentary breakdown in front of them after one too many mocktails and like completely forgot about it.

[ganondoodle]

11 pm again and i spent my evening trying to draw but ending up deleting like 5 attempts again and i just want to cry

cant even get upset anymore, i just sit here looking at the wasted time and just kinda going 'yeah ... what did i expect' and the tears are already back :I

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[sydmarch]

no interest in any of my hobbies next to no concerts going on all summer feeling abandoned by the majority of the few irls I still have no idea where to meet new people to replace them now that I'm not part of the highly social hard partying sales culture I spent basically all of my post college life in anymore literally what reason is there to keep trying

[cherubytes]

does the guy complaining about the amount of gay ultrakill fanart they see know they're on the gay fanart website???? "i cant scroll through the tag without seeing 30 fanarts of gabriel in a skirt" my brother in christ that man isnt wearing pants

[fuckitimrowan]

please please say things about “speaking of courage”. it was my favorite chapter in the novel, and

hi anon ABSOLUTELY this was my favourite too. we singled out this short story for my lit class, actually, and it's the reason i ended up reading tttc by myself. (which also means might've taken this ask as a reason to, like, almost analyse it... i'm so sorry.) i had that entire chapter annotated it but lost the print-out :/ BUT i still remember everything i need to. lol.

keeping this under the cut because it got too long lmao:

so. speaking of courage is objectively a fucking masterpiece. to me, it's about exactly what the real norman bowker expressed in his letter for o'brien: that sense of sudden lack of purpose. like, okay. the war's over. we survived. what's next? this? where do we go now? where do we go?

so, norman bowker goes in circles. the circle thing is pretty fantastically done. the story, the structure—it brings you back, and then away, and then all of that just to bring you back again. and then it happens, again, slightly different but it's really just the same.

it's a pleasant day. the lake is in the center of everything. there's nowhere to go and norman bowker is driving. in another world he would've been able to say this or that or would've had someone listen to this or understand that. norman bowker rolls the windows down or turns up his music and takes a turn of his dad's chevy. the world is moving around him and he keeps driving. locked away in this metal box with windows. driving.

on a broad level, that same structure just goes on the entire story. it's so beautifully done. and i believe it's literally the language lending to that too? the lake and town and weather is "smooth" and "flat" and the houses are "handsome" and these descriptors remain the same throughout.

there's this line i really like, about a sprinkler scattering water on a garden. and it's described to be doing it, like: hopelessly. round and round. it's a brief on-the-nose symbolism and i love it.

and there's another layer beneath that all, obviously. with kiowa & the silver star, and really it's the war. and just... peeling away any analysis or whatever right now, the story itself is disgusting if you imagine yourself in there. it's shit. the way it's written just. you think you're brave? could you jump in front of a bullet? could you take this? could you sit and wait? if you've had courage in the hardest of times could you have the type of courage you don't get a say in, at all? could you just be?

that line. "he knew shit. It was his specialty. the smell, in particular, but also the numerous varieties of texture and taste." maybe i'm thinking about this too vividly—but that's objectively horrifying to me. sinking in shit. objectively, you could say that "oh, it's better than facing the threat of being gunned down to death," but... let's be so fucking real. think about it: imagine yourself there.

from an analysis perspective, the ending is what gets me, most of the time. it's such a traditionally happy ending, has all the good symbolism points. gets out of the car, dips his head in the river—which, you know, cleansing, rebirth, all that bullshit (ha)—he watches the fire works for the 4th of july and yeah, it's a nice scene.

and then he says it's a pretty good show. that word pretty changes the entire fucking thing! and he's been doing this throughout, hasn't he? objective comments about the weather -- it's nice -- the town -- it's clean, sanitary -- and that's all he does. he's very carefully detached from the meaning of july 4th, too. the colours of the fireworks are pretty much identical to the colours of the flares from the night kiowa died in that shit field.

in a way, norman sort of died then too. with kiowa. the stupid analysis stuff, cleansing, rebirth, whatever—all of it, but inversed. it wasn't the water, it was the goddamn waste. instead of clean it makes you feel dirty—and norman's feeling of "dirty" means so many things. the guilt of kiowa. the distance from the town, the handsome, neat town who doesn't want the dirty war stories. the general view of the vietnam war. how he's completely clung onto all that this "dirty" means because he's still stuck in the war. my favourite description(s): the place looked as if it had been hit by nerve gas.

i have so much to say about that lake too. there's a really fucking oomph factor about the lake, you know? it's the lake where his old friend died. i wish i could explain this bit properly but god, i dunno, i just feel like there's some sort of parallel between the lake and the shit field. he tastes the water too. they're both described as flat bodies of water. there's something about that scene.

the ending isn't depressing, just because that word's too harsh, but it's... not happy. the way i see it, norman's attempting to achieve what the water is meant to symbolise. cleansing, just trying to wash it off of him again. all that shit. the waste of the war, of his guilt, of—and it leaves him disconnected, because that's a part of him and the only way to get rid of it is cutting it off. he doesn't talk about it, doesn't have anyone to talk to. it's not that he doesn't want to talk about it—he desperately wants to, so much that it genuinely breaks my heart. "want to hear about the silver star i almost won?" he whispers it at one point: the more times i read that, the more i feel his quiet anguish. he shouldn't have to be so disconnected, but he is because they don't want to listen. the place could only blink and shrug.

anyway i just think there's so much to take away from this story in particular. yeah, if you analyse it in that classroom style there's the repetition, that lost quality, the idea of being unable to speak. but more importantly there's the gross reality of it -- it was a shit field and he lost his friend and no one wants to hear about it. because it's shit and that's not what we want to hear of war. because norman wasn't able to save him and where's the good ending to that? we want to hear nothing about war that is war, really.

my thoughts on this will never end btw. there is so much more i have that is unsaid. there's just so many angles to this story -- on a literal sense, as a standalone, connected to the rest of the novel,

and it isn't norman's fault he can't speak. because since this isn't a pretty story, since there isn't a moral or point to it, there's just no one who'll fucking listen.

[snekdood]

i feel weird even claiming my family used to be considered "rich" bc a lot of yall immediately jump to having summer homes, 20 yachts, and enough money to save a country

[lususnatura]

🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

OH hey! thank you so much for the ask, venus!! so for this one... i unfortunately have another sad song but (,: i swear to god, if you've never heard this song before, it may just change your lifeee. okay — maybe it wouldn't do something that extreme, BUT it is still such a good song, IMO (an explanation will be in tags):

radiohead - how to disappear completely.

[lem-argentum]

playing ff.xiv blind as a th.ancred fan from the beginning is so funny. “hmm i wonder where than is- WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE WAS POSSESSED BY ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL BEINGS IN THE UNIVERSE….....” “hmm i wonder what happened to than after he was teleported from the- HIS ABILITY TO INTERACT WITH THE NATURAL ENERGY OF THE WORLD WAS SEVERED AND HE HAD TO FEND FOR HIMSELF FOR MONTHS IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE????” “yaay than gets to help us with planning our defenses :D- DID HE JUST DIEoh he’s not dead his soul was just RIPPED AWAY TO ANOTJEJR WORLD????!?!?” “ohh he gets to fight r.yne’s awful guardian figure i wonder what he’s gonna- DID HE JUST DIEoh he’s fine nevermind he gets to have resolved character development now :)” “aww okay we get to go to the end of the universe together, and he’s already gone through so much so clearly nothing bad will happen to hDID HE J

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

I'll be fine as long as I never have a moment alone to think about anything

[welcometoteyvat]

pet peeves: drawing people yellow

[toytanks]

ooughhhhhhh the Bad Feelings

[cavaliersecondary]

think i kind of hate m/cr now actually.