#like just overt grief

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

which midnights song do you think is importantly to TTPD but not often in the conversation? (From your recent ask)

lol i hesitated answering this because it’s touchy but fuck it

With the caveat that I am NOT saying anything about its origin or inspiration so please don’t come after me for it because I am not platforming that conversation on main: BTTWS. The event or person that inspired it does not matter for the purposes of this answer or discussion, it’s the expression of grief that does, because grief is what drives TTPD.

The hollowed-out, desperate, all-consuming sadness of that song, the feeling of isolation and feeling alone in your pain, of wondering if there is something you could have done differently to change the timeline, is also the underpinning of TTPD.

I’ve said it several times on this blog, but no matter what inspired the song, the reason I think it’s on Midnights is because of the theme of grief and how it consumes you, and how it can leave you racked with guilt and rumination. (Tying in to all the other what-ifs on the album about sleepless nights.)

So no matter what triggers the grief, a sense of loss is what drives the decisions she makes in the stories in TTPD.

Obviously there are a lot of other songs that apply, and like I said in the post I linked earlier, all of Midnights feels like questions that TTPD answers, and all the songs figure on TTPD in some way.

[metacrisisdoctor]

there are multiple reasons that i think the popular fanon interpretation of tenrose where they were having sex in season two doesn't make any sense and is objectively wrong but really when i entertain the idea that they were having an explicitly sexual romantic relationship the way people think they were (and yet we never saw them kiss, never saw them even LEAN IN TO KISS) i get very frustrated because that's a completely different relationship than what we saw on screen and it doesn't make me feel validated at all.

their relationship is deep and romantic and valuable without the kissing, because it's walking this thin line, where we know they want to be together fully and are almost there, but haven't quite fully realized it, especially toward the end of season two.

but if they were kissing and having sex and it was meant to be some sort of secret from the audience? i find that insulting and half assed writing, which it's not. tenrose is a story about a love so deep you are afraid to approach it because it will take you down. it's about wanting everything and taking nothing because you're afraid of losing it again and how your own repression hurts you in the end because you lost anyway. that's why we never see them kiss in season two, not because rtd is a prude or because that was all off screen.

doomsday is so painful because toward the end of season two the doctor is embracing his feelings for rose. he was starting to open up to her- and then it was all snatched away before they could do all of the things they wanted to because those things weren't in the cards for them yet.

[shitposting-fox]

Personal head cannon: the reason Okarun gets depressed in his yokai form is due to the lingering effects of Turbo-granny and the location-bound spirit. Spoilers for the manga will be under the cut!

This is due to a few things:

1. The backstory of the tunnel, yokai, and spirit

2. "Dandadan" as a word's potential meaning (major manga spoilers at that point!)

First, the spirits. We've already seen with Momo her ability to view the past of a yokai (Arco Silky) and we know Seiko was aware of the ongoing history behind the tunnel both Turbo-granny and the location-bound spirit where in.

With a combination of the curse, it's not a far stretch that the lingering emotions from the deceased may be having a subtle effect on Okarun.

While it's not been very overt, we've seen how the origin of a yokai is important to how they act. Those who are more vengeful will be more likely to attack whereas those who are from grief may try to protect (albeit a violent way).

While Turbo-granny is in the maneki-neko and her powers are in Okarun, there's a chance that the feelings that helped form those powers may have a subconscious effect on him. Hence, the general depression but extreme protectiveness.

Spoilers from the manga below!!

We saw him literally get on all fours like a guard dog, and push his body to the breaking point repeatedly. Going with the assumption the deceased are subconsciously effecting him, it makes more sense why the protectiveness is amped up too.

Many of the girls were probably desperate for someone to save them, anyone, and that urgency could translate into the need to protect the others (especially Momo) as a result.

The second reason I have this theory is because of the potential meaning of "dandadan"!

This one is a lot more flimsy so bear with me here. While I've already wanted for manga spoilers I'm gonna mention again MAJOR SPOILERS for the manga.

Alright so! Dandadan as a word is similar to だんだん or "dandan" which often translates to "gradually".

I don't know very much about Japanese wordplay besides a few from songs (Love Ka, song based on the Japanese word for frilled shark and the English word love), so I could be completely wrong in this guess. But I feel like the word could be an original creation for implying the gradual change of an individual due to surrounding yokai and spirits

Before I get into the Shinto rambling, I'll mention the big point that got me thinking this was the effects after Okarun lost his powers. He still excelled is a lot of sport areas and, while it could be attributed to him working out consistently, there's also a possibility he has some... Influence, let's say, from a certain yokai.

We haven't seen much of him yet after all of this, so it could be very wrong, but the way it was brought up seemed to imply a greater importance than just normal athleticism.

Now for the Shinto rambling!!

To keep it pretty short: the body plays a major role in Shinto. We've seen it with the golden balls (strong life force amped up by a yokai) plus the give and take of various yokai forms (physicality for Okarun, hair treatment for Aira).

Shinto itself has the body on a pretty high importance. Most Asian religions tend to have more focus on the body, weather it be on asceticism (bodily denial) or purity

Dandadan has shown a lot of Shinto aspects already, from the existence of Yokai and Kami to the various interacts people have with the world.

Since the body is important, it's not too far a stretch to assume the continued themes of religion and the body are going to continue through the rest of the series.

While it may not be as overt as Okarun attempting to get the rest of his genitalia back, it's still likely to appear as a major plot point.

Hence, the potential implications of "dandadan"

I could be remembering wrong, but I believe at one point Count Saint Germain even asked someone if they knew the meaning of the word, which implies it may be crucial to his current purpose in the story

We already know there's a large group of aliens who want to steal the yokai and Kami abilities so they can take over Earth and colonize more planets, and many are looking into ways of stealing them.

With the introduction of Kouki and people's powers being able to be stolen from a direct injury, we can reason that the current goal is for the aliens to find a way to get more people's powers to be then transfered to themselves.

If we go under the assumption dandadan is the gradual bleeding over of powers and/or merging of aura to where it allows a human to gain more supernatural powers they wouldn't have otherwise, it makes sense that Count Saint Germain and/or the invading aliens are attempting to find a way to utilize this ability

Of course this could be completely wrong, but it's been rotating in my brain for a while. Wanted to get it out there somewhere lol

[k-nayee]

Fallen Hazbin Hotel i

wc: 3.3k a/n: this will be a slight au goes cause ngl i never really made it past episode 2💀

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The creation of your soul was unlike any other.

In the hallowed space where human souls were molded, Seraphim Sera worked beside the successor of Lucifer in the celestial sanctum dedicated to new life.

Though Emily had grown adept at forming souls over the eons, she still found herself studying Sera's technique with curiosity and deference.

This time, however, she noticed an unusual stillness in Sera. There was a hint of sorrow in her—deeper than any Emily had seen before.

The state of humanity weighed heavily on Sera's heart. It was something even the sacrifice of Jesus had not remedied.

Where she had hoped to see more unity and compassion, humanity continued to stumble.

Devoted to creation and guidance and yet here she was: moved to a grief that seemed to reach even her divine powers.

Without Sera's knowledge that sorrow imprinted itself on the soul she was forming.

As her fingertips hovered over the amorphous light, her unspoken worries and heartache transformed it, seeping into the essence she shaped.

You were different from the start—a rare blend of purity and compassion, a hope born from despair.

No other soul had quite the same resonance as yours. It was as if each fragment of light carried Sera's lingering wish for humanity's redemption.

Emily remained silent as she observed. For all the thousands of souls she had seen, none had been like this. She could sense Sera's guarded admiration as well.

Though Sera (ever the professional) did not show overt favoritism, there was a lingering gaze—a brief stillness, every time her eyes fell upon you.

And then, just as quickly, she'd retreat to her disciplined demeanor as though she could not allow herself the luxury of attachment.

Once your formation was complete, you were sent to Earth with no knowledge of the watchful presence behind your existence.

From the beginning the world proved to be harsh and unforgiving.

Abandoned as a child and abused by those who should have protected you, you were thrust into a life of struggle.

And yet in spite of it all no bitterness clouded your heart nor did hatred take root; instead you grew wise to life's difficulties, meeting each day with a kindness that was resolute.

Each act of goodwill, every kindness you extended, seemed to spark a subtle ripple effect—something that shaped the lives of others and sent positive changes flowing into places you couldn't see.

Having never grown hard or cynical to life, you were granted angelic ascension upon your death.

Upon your arrival Sera awaited you at the gates, a subtle smile softening her usually serious expression as she guided you to your new position before going off to her own responsibilities.

Life in Heaven felt nearly surreal.

Though the celestial realms were as awe-inspiring as they were vast, you felt a strange pang of loneliness among the hierarchy of angels—most of whom seemed untouched by the hardships you remembered from Earth.

Your days was spent in quiet work under higher-ranking overseers with often yourself as company in the towering halls of Heaven.

That was until you were summoned to Adam's chambers.

You had heard much about him from other angels beyond his legacy as the first man. He was someone who had a commanding presence—sharp wit.

But as you stood before him, despite his evident authority, he exuded an oddly modern charm—a confident, slightly arrogant air that might have been more suited to a CEO than an Archangel.

He looked you up and down, his piercing gaze sizing you up as if deciding whether he could work with you at all.

In those first weeks Adam had made his displeasure known. He rarely missed an opportunity to grumble about the favor he was doing for Sera.

You were a lower-ranking angel after all. And Adam made no secret of his annoyance over this fact. It was shown through your tasks.

They were menial at first: simple records and errand-like duties—which unbeknown to you, was actually ordered to test your resolve rather than develop skills.

He was meticulous and unyielding, a mentor who would not accept anything less than perfection and barely acknowledged your efforts even when they met his exacting standards.

But as the days weeks turned to months there were subtle changes. Sometimes he would sit back and watch you with a look that lingered a bit longer than he intended.

You'd catch him softening in brief moments when he thought you weren't watching with a slight curve of his mouth when you managed something especially well.

And over time his critiques mellowed into an almost playful teasing. The conversations once clipped and formal took on a different tone.

He would linger after giving you a task—recounting stories of the early days of humanity, speaking of his own creation and the burden of his role with a tone that almost resembled confession.

Then one day he invited you to walk with him in the gardens—an invitation that you knew wasn't extended to just anyone.

As you strolled among Heaven's flowering vines and ethereal fountains he casually asked about your Earthly experiences, or as he put it, the "domino effect" Sera mentioned in your file.

You told him of your life as a human and the trials you faced and the choice to meet the world with kindness despite its many hardships.

Then, for the first time ever, a full fledged smile graced his face. Its tenderness filled the stillness around you.

That unspoken bond grew. 

Even the other angels began to notice Adam's (in all his aloofness) distinct warmth that was reserved only for you.

He still carried himself with that familiar arrogance and exuded his usual authority, but his eyes softened when you were near.

His usual cutting words now had an underlying fondness that only the two of you fully understood.

You didn’t speak of it—didn’t dare name it. But when you were alone there was an undeniable closeness.

It went beyond his usual dismissive flirtations or occasional compliments. His hand would linger on yours a moment too long, his touch warm and grounding as he guided you through the grand halls.

You still felt the guarded edges around him even as he allowed this closeness. Almost as if he were keeping a part of himself hidden.

Though you yearned to know more, knowing the gentleness Adam has for you was reserved for no one else made up for it.

For now that was enough.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The revelation came upon you like a sudden storm.

It seemed ordinary enough—one of those rare quiet days where Heaven’s peace felt genuine and untouched by schemes or whispers of unrest.

You had been looking for Adam, searching the grand halls where he often spent his time in secluded contemplation or strategy.

Upon entering his quarters you stumbled upon a series of records and texts you hadn’t seen before—drawings, schematics, plans filled with the details of an endeavor you could hardly comprehend at first.

Shock locked you in place as your eyes darted over the pages, the full picture beginning to take shape.

Adam was planning to eradicate all of Hell in a brutal purge. His intentions scrawled out plainly with plans to make it a bi-annual devastation.

His motivations seemed focused—almost obsessive: he desire to destroy Lucifer for corrupting both his wives and damning humanity to sin.

The righteousness of it felt  sinister in a way that clashed with everything Heaven should represent.

It was the sound of footsteps that pulled you from your horrified trance. You look up, catching Adam’s steely gaze as he entered the room.

He stilled, his eyes narrowing as his lips twist into a brief condescending smile before disappearing just as quick. “Eavesdropping now are we?”

“What...is all of this?” your voice shaky but resolute. There was no hiding your distress nor the raw betrayal evident in your tone.

He watched you carefully, his silence stretched painfully long with each passing second drawing his gaze sharper.

“It’s necessary,” he finally replied, each word precise and calculated. “You of all people should understand that.”

You shook your head with disbelief flashing in your eyes. “Necessary? Adam you’re talking about genocide. A-an endless cycle of destruction! How can you say this is the right thing?”

His expression darkened.

“This is for the greater good. Lucifer’s actions have damned humanity, cast shadows over Heaven itself.” Irritation seeped into his voice. “The world would be purer without his influence infecting it, without Hell festering beneath.”

The certainty in his tone left no room for negotiation and you felt the depth of the chasm between you.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “I can’t be a part of this Adam. I...I won’t.”

He watched you as a flicker of something like disappointment shined in his eyes, though it quickly cooled to an unnerving calm.

“Perhaps you’re just not seeing the full picture,” his voice smoothed as if he were offering comfort. “Meet me at our usual spot. I’ll explain everything. Trust me.”

There was a note of gentleness in his words, a familiar echo of the kindness you’d come to know.

Against the shadow of doubt that churned in your chest, you wanted to believe him. You wanted to think that somehow there was something you’d misunderstood.

And so you went to the place that had become yours over the years—a quiet grove within Heaven’s gardens where the two of you spent your time together.

The serenity of it now felt almost mocking.

As you waited you searched for a sense of reassurance, for the feeling that this was all some awful misunderstanding.

That Adam would arrive, put a hand on your shoulder, and explain everything away.

But instead when Adam appeared, his presence felt cold—almost mechanical. There was no trace of the man who had once softened around you nor a lingering warmth in his gaze.

“Adam...” you began only for your words to die on your lips. He raised his hand, and suddenly you felt an unfamiliar pull.

It was as though gravity itself had turned against you. Your wings flared instinctively, but they were useless against the force drawing you downward.

Realization gripped you as you looked up; this wasn’t an explanation. This was a sentence.

Adam’s face was the last thing you saw before the Fall: a sharp tooth grin stretched across his lips.

He raised his hand in a mock salute, almost playful as if he were bidding farewell to an old friend rather than sending you into damnation.

That look—that chillingly gleeful expression was imprinted itself in your mind; searing a deep wound of betrayal that would never fully heal.

Your voice caught in your throat, eyes wide with disbelief as you fell. He hadn’t wavered. Didn't hesitate.

The one who had been your confidante, who had once looked at you with something like love, has casted you down without so much as a flicker of remorse.

Tears escaped and scattered into the wind around you. Just as Heaven faded from sight, darkness fully enveloped you and your world went black.

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

You plummet from Heaven like a comet; a streak of searing light tearing through the thick red skies of Hell.

Your form was enveloped in flames as you crashed down with a force that made the very ground tremble.

The impact was like a small explosion—flames erupting, leaving a crater scorched and steaming as debris scattered for yards around.

Slowly you regained consciousness, faint prickles of pain tingling at the edges of your senses.

Your entire body felt heavy. Every inch of your body throbbed with the reminder that you’d been ̶b̶̶e̶̶t̶̶r̶̶a̶̶y̶̶e̶̶d̶ casted down by the very person you trusted most.

Suddenly, you feel warmth pressing against your cheek. You blink, finding yourself face-to-face with a strange malformed creature—a bird if you could call it that.

It had way too many eyes that blinked in eerie unison with a beak far too sharp as it pecked at your face.

You instinctively swat it away with more force than you intended. The creature squawked in protest before flapping its leathery wings and vanishing into the smoky distance.

Looking around you find yourself lying in the center of a deep crater as steam rose from the ground. For a second your mind struggled to reconcile where you were.

Then realization crept in slowly along with a numb sort of disbelief. Hell. You were in Hell.

As you shifted to sit up, soft murmurs above made you snap your head upwards. There on the edges of the crater stood  gathering figures— Hell denizens that drawn to the commotion.

Sinners and demons, the curious and wicked souls damned to this place, they all watched you in curiosity.

That is until they caught sight of the faint remaining glow of your halo and pure white wings.

Their gazes turned alarmed before they scattered away in screeches and shrieks, stumbling and tripping over each other in their desperation to flee in the mistaken belief that your arrival was the start of an unexpected purge.

The silence that followed was almost jarring, leaving you alone in the crater as the echoes of their hurried footsteps faded into the distance.

Your body screamed in protest as you slowly rose to your feet.

You try to open your wings in attempt to take flight, but the moment you flexed them, a searing pain flared down your back making you clamp your wings shut with a wince.

It seems flying wasn't an option right now.

With painstaking effort you hobbled toward the crater’s edge, eyes fixed on the steep walls.

Your teeth grit from the pain when you reach out and grasped a jagged piece of rock jutting from the crater wall.

'Okay,' a grim look of determination cross your face. 'Guess I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.' 

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

With a weak but firm grip you grasped the edge of the crater, using every last ounce of strength to pull yourself up onto the cracked pavement.

A heaving gasp tore from your throat as you collapsed onto solid ground before scooting yourself away from the crater’s edge.

It had taken longer than you’d hoped, but you’d done it. You were out.

Lying back, you let your head fall against the pavement to stare up at the crimson-tinted sky above.

Clouds churned in dark ominous shades of red as a massive pentagram symbol loomed high above—it glowed sinisterly, slicing through the swirling clouds in sharp precise lines.

Hell’s “moon” hung beside it—a twisted scarred orb that looked as though it had been dragged from the depths of something far darker than night.

And even higher in the distance, just barely visible against the hellish skyline, was the faint shimmer of Heaven’s gate. A cruel and unreachable mirage.

You closed your eyes, letting out a long shuddering breath as you try to gather yourself before reluctantly forcing your exhausted body to move once more.

Just as you managed to stand a strange warmth flickered above your head. Your fingers reach up to touch your now sputtering halo.

The steady glow dimmed as it pulsed weakly—and before you could fully process it, the light extinguished altogether.

The once radiant halo fell and clattered to the ground with a hollow metallic ring.

You stared down at the cold dull metal lying lifelessly in the dust. Your legs buckled and you sank to your knees, reaching out with trembling fingers to pick it up.

The weight of it felt foreign now, devoid of the light and comfort it once radiated.

A sad hollow laugh bubbled up from your throat; a weak attempt to mask the sharp ache of loss.

“...and it was such a good reading light to use,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper.

The familiar warmth of Heaven was gone and replaced by an oppressive heat that clung to you as the air around filled with the bitter scent of sulfur.

The betrayal, the Fall, and now your halo—each piece hammered at your heart, leaving you grasping at the edges of your composure as the weight of this new reality pressed in on you.

Fortunately you didn’t have time to dwell on it for long. 

“Hello!” A voice cuts through the stillness.

Startled, you look up to see a young girl standing at the edge of the abandoned street, her bright eyes wide with wonder.

She was small, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders as she wore a frilly red dress that looked almost too pristine for a place like Hell

She moved before you could process her intentions, darting toward you with surprising speed.

You instinctively opened your arms, catching her as she flinged herself into your embrace with childlike trust.

Her weight was slight with a warmth to her that felt strangely comforting. She nestled against your side, tiny hands exploring your feathers as her eyes sparkled with awe.

“Oh wow!” she squealed, brushing her fingers lightly over the downy feathers of your wings that had unconsciously curled around her as if to shield her from the world. “Your wings are so pretty! They look kinda like my dad’s!”

You blinked, still processing the fact that a child was not only here in Hell but clinging to you like you were an old friend.

Her innocent curiosity and lack of fear threw you off guard. For a moment faint memories of the children you had in your human life resurfaced and a bittersweet warmth filled your chest.

“Who might you be little one?"

The girl looked up at you with a giggle, eyes wide with innocence. "My name's Charlie, Charlie Magne!"

You couldn't help but smile. She reminded you of them in a way—of the tenderness you’d once known.

"And why are you out here alone?” concern was heard in your words. It was dangerous even for a child who clearly belonged here.

“I just wanted to see if it was really an angel causing all the fuss. I overheard my dad talking about it and well...I got curious! So I snuck out and—bam! I found you!” She gave you a triumphant grin as if discovering you were her own special accomplishment.

“Your...dad?” you echo softly causing her to frantically nod.

“Charlotte!” A booming voice calls out sending a shiver down your spine. Charlie looked over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up even more.

“Oh! There he is!” she chirped. Wriggling out of your arms, she hops down and began waving enthusiastically in the direction of the voice. "Over here!”

You quickly got to your feet, bracing yourself as you saw him: Lucifer Morningstar—The King of Hell himself striding down the street with an air of authority.

His softened gaze was locked on Charlie as she ran to him. But the moment she pointed back at you and exclaimed, “Look Daddy! I made a new friend!” his expression shifted.

The smile he’d given her vanished and was replaced by something far darker. In a flash he was in front of you, his crimson eyes piercing through you like twin blades.

You barely blinked before you were slammed to the ground.

The impact stole the air from your lungs, you were left gasping as his weight pressed down on you, a foot planted firmly on your chest.

Charlie's pleads of Daddy stop! seemed distant, almost muffled as you struggled to catch your breath.

'Geez...What s up with this family and tackling?'

Your dry thought is interrupted by the cold bite of metal on your throat. The sharp blade is pressed against the skin of your neck making you give a wide-eye stare up at the man towering over you.

His expression hard and unforgiving with an air of suspicion around him.

"Who sent you to the land of the Damned?" 

[plurapony]

Are you faking? And if so are you a Bad Person?

For this post I want to ignore those who fake having DID for popularity ie DissocaDID or people who admit they don't have the disorder ie transDID

So, most people that are accused of faking on an online platform are said to be misinterpreting their symptoms. However it's important to mention that sites like r/SC and r/FDC are full of a lot of misinformation so I'll need to declare some nuance regarding their opinions.

DID is Covert: Not true, It is the majority however whilst 80% are covert, 20% of DID patients present overt. Most of them CAN mask with only 5-6% of overt DID patients not being able to mask. (We have Overt DID!) Sure it's not the majority but if 100 people with DID get put into a room that's still statistically 20 people with overt DID. More importantly there's no need to mask symptoms on an online platform and covert DID can seem like overt online!

Commborid Disorders (ie autism): If you have commborid disorders then it WILL affect how your disorder presents. Autism can cause a higher likelihood of getting the disorder (due to the disorder itself and the fact children with disabilities are more likely to be abused) and autism can cause a higher likelihood of introjects. Which brings the question, are they faking? Or just showing additional symptoms of autism?

Now that we've got that over with. Let's talk about misinterpreting symptoms and the harm that brings online. Which is minimal at absolute most. If you do happen to have another disorder the only real person you're harming is yourself as you're delaying treatment for what is actually causing you grief. But then again most people online who have DID are already in therapy and working through their trauma, so if it turns out later on they don't have DID - does it really matter? They worked through their trauma which is an objectively good thing.

So no, you're not faking. And you telling people about your symptoms online and classifying them as DID is not harmful. Your experience may differ from someone else's but hey that's okay! Our brains are all incredibly individual and naturally DID will follow that pattern and be very individual too. Keep posting about your symptoms and finding like-minded individuals if it helps you! (I tell my therapist about our Tumblr blog and she thinks it's a positive thing)

Do what's best for you and don't listen to dumb fucks online who have no idea what they're talking about. And FYI a doctor or medical professional having a degree does not automatically mean they know better than you. If you feel unheard or dismissed - ditch them and find a better one. You deserve to be seen, heard and understood.

Happy healing! And always be yourself, it's the best version you can be 🩷

[IMAGE ID: ponyville is a (pro) endo free zone break dni and get blocked loser ! END ID]

[starlight-tav]

I'm going fucking insane over Jayce & Viktor so I offer you an unhinged ramble about the butterfly and the narrative structure of their relationship. I apologize in advanced for being batshit.

So Viktor and Jayce's relationship is a chiastic structure. A chiasm is where the beginning and end of a story point to the middle of it, creating an X or ∞ (a chiasma is also a structure in genetics, if you've seen the word in science classes before.)

This means that the rise and fall of the narrative mirror each other (parallelism). There are many parallels in Jayce and Viktor's relationship, with one of the most overt being "Am I interrupting?" and one of the more covert examples being Viktor's belief in Jayce's dream to use science to bring access to the Arcane ("Our hextech dream") and Jayce's belief in Viktor leading them to shattering access to the Arcane web ("We finish this together.")

At the center of this narrative is death and resurrection (metamorphosis). The first season ends with Viktor's death, and the second begins with his resurrection, the literal center of the story.

Now, Arcane is about love in its entirety. All-encompassing, earth-shattering, life-giving, life-taking love. Love, which inspires our greatest evil and our greatest good, is something that changes us. Love which can lead to grief, can make us into our worst selves (consider the warmongering), but it can also make us into our kindest selves (consider Isha.)

Jayce's love for Viktor saves him but it also changes him. Twice. When Viktor dies, Jayce is unwilling to let him go and uses the hexcore to resurrect him. This transforms Viktor into the Herald.

When Jayce is forced into the alternate reality where he experiences the decline of his body and the struggle to climb from the depths to the surface (a narrative representation of empathy), he finally understands Viktor. This transformative understanding primes him to fulfill his promises to Viktor, past and future - to destroy the hexcore and stop the Arcane from bleeding out all over reality; to save Viktor.

The butterfly is a well-know symbol of transformation, so it's no accident that it follows Viktor and Jayce from the very beginning to the very end. But it isn't just a visual representation of love and its power, but a reminder of the very structure of their narrative.

Because Arcane is also about perspective - narratives. Silco and Vander show us how our shared experiences can yield different motivations, as do Jinx and Vi, and Ambessa and Mel too. Every single one of these characters is motivated by love, but their methods are opposing forces.

We see, time and time again, that those with the most power are those who control the narrative (power in Zaun creating a righteous rebellion vs power in Piltover creating a narrative of dangerous insurrection), and that power lacking empathy is corruptive (Cait and Ambessa forsaking empathy in favor of violently seizing control vs. Vi and Mel embodying empathy to save that which they love.)

At the center of all of this conflict is partnership. Failed partnerships, like Vander & Silco and redeeming partnerships, like Ekko & Jinx. Viktor and Jayce share a dream, and that dreams bleeds the Arcane, corrupting reality. But when they forsake their partnership (Jayce joining the council and Viktor leaving the lab), it nearly destroys everything.

When they lean into their affection, when they utilize empathy, when they let their love be transformative, they heal the Arcane and reality. In their final moments, they mirror each other, and as they're scattered into all timelines and all possibilities by the explosion they are transformed into something cosmic together. Their story ends as it began.

We know from the lifecycle of the butterfly, by the structure of the narrative, that beginnings and endings are not so finite. Love is both a constant ("in all timelines, in all possibilities") and an anomaly ("That which inspires us to our greatest good, is also the cause of our greatest evil".) It is the infinite, and the infinite is not a line with a beginning and an end, but a tangle of time and potential.

The chiastic structure of Jayce and Viktor's relationship is one that shows that love itself is the most powerful and transformative force in nature. It demonstrates that love doesn't just have the potential create or destroy but to do both at the same time; that reality isn't binary, but it is symmetrical. A butterfly was always a caterpillar and a caterpillar was always a butterfly; it experiences both, not one or the other (there's even a moment where it's neither and both all at once!)

Love is imperfect. People are imperfect. When Jayce is transformed in the depths of Zaun, he finally understands this. He carries this revelation to the height of Piltover where he finds Viktor waiting for him.

"There is no prize to perfection, only an end to pursuit."

If love were perfect it would stagnate, dreamless. Recognizing its power is seeing it for all its good and evil, and choosing it all the same.

"You were never broken, Viktor. There's beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are. An inseparable piece of everything I admired about you."

Viktor's transformation isn't from a broken man into the Herald, it's from a man believing himself unworthy of love to one knowing he is loved unconditionally. If love were perfect it would require perfection of us. But it isn't and it doesn't. Only Jayce can show Viktor this, because Jayce loves Viktor and Viktor loves Jayce.

"I thought I wanted to give magic to the world, but all I want is my partner back."

Think about Singed telling Viktor that "Love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress."

And Viktor responding, "Jayce will understand."

He did understand eventually, only he sacrifices progress and legacy for love and transformation. Love is not the opposite of progress, perfection is the opposite of progress. In a perfect world, there is no need to dream together. Jayce understands this. He shows Viktor this. And together they change.

I've always been bad at concluding paragraphs, but I hope my rambling has made sense up to the point. TLDR; the butterfly is a visual representation of Jayce and Viktor's narrative as one of love and transformation.

[kafus]

i wont feel offended if you ignore this ask btw, i get that its asking something kind of personal! but can i ask what you mean by the internet treating DID as magical?

hi i actually enjoy DID questions don't worry LOL and i'm in the mood rn

when most people think about DID they are usually thinking about very overt cases with very distinct alters with vastly different personalities, different names, gender identities, etc. while this is a popular angle to imagine DID, overt cases like that are actually a pretty small percentage of what DID tends to look like. (of course, social media can push people's presentation to become more overt, which isn't fake/bad or anything, humans are social animals and the way we interact with each other can affect even our mental illnesses. additionally some people will become more overt after receiving therapy while they start communicating with alters for the first time. but my point is DID is not usually that strikingly obvious)

this popular perception also leaves out a lot of the rest of DID which falls in line with what people consider more "typical" disorders, PTSD symptoms galore, dissociation/dissociative amnesia, somatic pains and illness, comorbid conditions and physical disabilities. i think if people had more of an understanding of the non-alter parts of DID, it would ground the disorder a lot more and make it a lot less "magical" seeming.

but overall it all comes back to like... people not understanding that DID is just an extension of PTSD and other parts-based disorders. the same psychological process that makes PTSD/C-PTSD happen, BPD, etc, is what causes DID, it's just pushed to a far extreme due to when the trauma is experienced (very early childhood) and other factors surrounding that trauma, such as the length of time the trauma occurred over, or whether or not the child had stable caregivers and/or relief from traumatic events. DID is not some sort of completely separate category of mental illness - alters (the DID definition of them) may be unique to DID, but they come from the same place a ton of other mental illnesses do and there's a ton of overlapping symptoms between DID and pretty much every disorder caused by trauma.

i often see people act like DID is some far off life experience they couldn't even fathom or imagine living with, but if anyone just actually explained this shit properly i'm pretty sure most people, especially traumatized people, would go "oh that makes sense" and not feel so estranged from it lol. it's really frustrating because people continuing to see DID as this sort of magical, far-off experience, takes the disability/disorder out of it in conversation about it (people can only ever seem to talk about alters) and it also usually ends up spreading misinformation at the same time. there's sooo much bullshit about DID out there. good grief. it even hurts other people with trauma-based conditions that aren't DID

edit: wait also btw OSDD-1 is included in this conversation, i'm just using DID as shorthand instead of typing DID/OSDD every time and i am personally diagnosed with DID so lol

[meteortrails]

there really was a lost opportunity with episode gladio bc like. his fucked up, resentful, overly devoted relationship with Noctis comes through at certain moments, but it is not nearly the overt subject that it is in episodes prompto and ignis??? like you play episode prompto and you go oh wow! his entire sense of self has been turned on its head, and all he can think about is what Noctis and the boys will think about him if they find out. episode ignis is basically nothing but ignis thinking about noct and grief. and as you play them you get this fascinating look into everything they’ve been keeping in a death grip deep inside themselves for noct’s sake, and it really drives home how all encompassing their relationship with Noctis is. and then episode gladio is half just cor talking about himself, and a quarter gladio obliquely coming to terms with the fact that his dad is dead and he’s not sure that he’d be proud of the person he’s deciding to be, and meanwhile Noctis is a constant looming specter of who this is ostensibly all for that they basically refuse to mention. this is probably bc episode gladio came out first but like. still.

[tikitania]

Did anyone see the Paris Opera Ballet’s Swan Lake on IMAX this weekend?

Nureyev’s libretto….lots to unpack. Rothbart is such a central character in this version pulling the narrative strings in overt and dark ways both inside the court and on the mystical lake. He’s not just evil wizard who has trapped Odette, he’s a dark force within the very halls of power who seems to have everyone hoodwinked — this fully registers with me after the recent US election.

It seems the capture of Odette and turning her into a swan was some sort of long game to destroy Siegfried, who stands in the way of power. But Rothbart also seems to have some masochistic, sexual feelings for the young prince, too. The homoeroticism was off the charts — I’ve never seen the crossbow gifted to the price so seductively! One interpretation could be that this version of Swan Lake is about doomed sexual longing because it’s Siegfried who dies in the end. Odette is forever trapped as a swan, and Rothbart’s dominance is complete.

In the sequel, Rothbart marries the Queen and rules with total power because she’s lost in grief after the death of her only son. Odile is his mistress. But the Prince’s Friends with the help of the swans come to the rescue and defeat Rothbart, returning the balance of power of good over evil. You’re welcome!

Park delightfully surprised me. I had never seen her dance before beyond short clips online. She exceeded my expectations, especially as Odile. Marque is really exquisite. He’s an expressive dancer with beautiful jumps and soft landings. But Pablo Lagasa, as Rothbart, stole the show with his technical prowess and smoldering deep-set eyes.

Seeing this in IMAX is incredible. Would love more of these, please! Love the bird’s eye views of the corps….I don’t care for a lot of Nureyev’s choreographic choices, but I did love seeing the corps formations, especially in Act 3. Normally, I like the set design and costumes at the POB, but the Easter egg hues for the court scenes didn’t work for me. The fuchsia gowns for the brides with those tiny fans were downright garish.

[englandsgirl18181234]

how shocked will Annabeth and her siblings be to see the difference in Athena? If her mind has been degrading and she didn’t start to make kids until quite a long time after the Odyssey, I don’t see how Athena’s children would have ever known her true self.

Also, I hope the gods find out just how important Odysseus, Penelope and Telemachus are to her, and that Apollo makes it clear how much Athena was suffering in mind and body, that they really made an already horrible situation even worse. Especially with Demeter’s needless cruelty towards Athena for petitioning Hades respectfully and the attack on the Olive tree bed. Athena’s grief sounds like it was on a similar (if less outwardly destructive) level as Demeter’s own when Persephone was taken (and in a sense, Telemachus was Athena’s child—Demeter was being cruel to a mother who wanted to see her spouses and child just once more). Also, Hera’s actions towards Athena anger me, Athena was Zeus’s first child by his first wife, who was not Hera. Hera acted like Athena was a bastard when she is just as legitimate as Hera’s own children.

also, also, how is Triton—who was a father figure to Athena before Zeus’s actions caused Pallas to be lost (and in all the myths I have read, it was him, not Athena, who caused Pallas’s death by distracting her during a friendly spar)—going to react when he learns Zeus murdered her? I mean, unless there were no witnesses I don’t think it’s likely that by the time Athena dies Triton didn’t know what happened. So now Zeus has brought about the deaths of both of Triton’s daughters.

this whole mess is gonna bring up some bad memories for Hera, Demeter, Poseidon, Hades and Hestia

And that's the tragedy of Athena and her children, isn't it? They didn't know their real mother. None of them did. Even the earliest children that she was allowed to be closely involved with only ever knew her through a haze of grief and trauma and brain damage. To see her without all that is something they'll barely even be able to comprehend. And when they realize just how much she had suffered and how hard she had to fight just to present in their lives in even the faintest way, they're going to realize that she loved them so much more than she was ever able to show.

And Athena here actually communicated with her children more regularly than all the other gods. She wasn't allowed to be overt, wasn't able to assist and assure them of her love the way she wanted to. But they still got signs from her that she cared, even if they didn't always understand that that's what they were.

Not a single child of Athena went unclaimed for more than a day, and even that long was often only because of her seizures. Many were claimed as soon as they hit the border of camp. The rest of the campers, and particularly the unclaimed, were always extremely jealous of how all of Athena's kids were claimed so quickly. And Annabeth's Yankee's cap was not a one off in this verse, it was just the one that was the most difficult to hide. All of Athena's children got some kind of gift, it was just a concentrated effort by the rest of the cabin to make sure that went unknown because of how upset it would have made the rest of camp and potentially the other gods.

Apollo and Athena are actually the only cabins that didn't have anyone go over to Kronos in the Titan War in this verse too, because Apollo did pretty much the same thing. He couldn't get away with gifts to the same extent, because he and his children were watched much more closely than Athena, but all of his kids were claimed by the next dawn.

(I promise there'll be an explanation for the Mark Of Athena and Annabeth's treatment in it, it's just gonna take a while to get there because Athena needs to heal first)

And oh boy, are the rest of the gods gonna find out. Apollo is not pulling any of his punches on that front, he is going to show them Exactly how much Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus meant to her. Because he knows how the others viewed Athena, how they saw her as distant and uptight and emotionless. But he knows better than them all that she Wasn't that. That it was all a product of brain damage and all the masks she wore to keep the others from using her love against her like Zeus did.

Apollo is about one more badly timed comment away from hitting them all with a plague that would mimic the worst of Athena's symptoms, just to make them all truly understand how badly she'd been suffering. Because she was suffering, and all he could do was watch as she slowly got worse and worse. Knowing all the while that there was nothing he could do beyond be there for her because none of his treatments ever worked.

And the other gods are going to realize how shitty they were, at least most of them, it just might take a little bit because they're all still in shock at this point.

Hera is... not great in this verse. To anyone really. She's pretty much based her entire life and personality around being Zeus's wife, and Athena is a glaring reminder of both the fact that it Wasn't always her at his side, and the fact that she's replaceable, which is why she's so much more awful to Athena than the others.

And Triton? Boy oh boy is Poseidon having a Rough time with Triton. Poseidon is physically unable to not tell Triton about what happened. He literally could not stomach the idea of not telling his son about Athena's death the moment he got back. He even made sure to tell the rest of the Council that he was going to before he left.

And Triton. Goes. Ballistic.

He is two seconds away from flashing to Olympus and going after Zeus with nothing but his gods-damned teeth.

And he is only being kept from doing so by Poseidon doing the godly power equivalent of sitting on him to keep him in place. The very second Poseidon's attention wavers enough for him to get out, he is going to be in that throne room ripping out Zeus's throat with his bare hands.

This is both of his children that Zeus has now killed, both of his beloved daughters that had been stolen from him by the so called King. And Triton is determined to destroy him for it.

Sorry this took so long to answer, you had me thinking about a lot of things and it took me a while to find the right words

[anthurak]

So here’s a few general theories I’ve got on both Eve and Roo, their role in the story, as well as at least one rather bonkers theory on how they/she are connected to Charlie.

Which means to begin with, we’re going to make the entirely logical step to talk about Rosie.

Because as I said in a couple posts after the finale, I think Rosie is actually Eve.

Or rather, as I now think, Rosie is an ASPECT of Eve.

To begin with, just about everything Rosie does with Charlie in Episode 7 to me just kinda SCREAMS ‘I’m actually a mysterious relative/family friend you never knew about.’ From the way she immediately goes massively out of her way to help Charlie, not just with the more overt problem of the impending extermination, but also her more personal relationship problems, not to mention little touches like how she insists on Charlie calling her ‘auntie’. As well as making a number of small references that could very easily be more direct foreshadowing:

Rosie’s whole ‘first husband’ comment could easily be a dig at Adam, plus her being a cannibal would make for a pretty clever callback to the visual joke of Adam eating ribs in the first episode.

We also have Rosie’s talk with Charlie about her problems with Vaggie, which feel especially relevant in light of the reveal that Eve seems to have had some kind of romance with Lucifer and Lilith. Rosie’s comments to Charlie clearly hint that she has her own regrets towards a failed relationship, which if she is Eve could easily hint at whatever went down between her, Lilith and Lucifer. Not to mention, given the CLEAR parallels that Charlie and Vaggie have to Lucifer and Lilith, it would be all too fitting if it turned out that Eve was the one helping to mend their relationship.

There’s also one other visual detail about Rosie… but more on that later.

So how does this tie back to Roo?

Well you know how I said I think Rosie is an aspect or part of Eve?

I think Roo is the OTHER part of Eve.

As in, I think that Roo and Rosie (hey, look at those similar names) are each the two parts of Eve that split apart when she became the ‘Root of All Evil’.

When you get down to it, I think Roo as a character and her role in the story as a whole is to be a subversive exploration of the idea of the scapegoat and Christian ideas/fixation on guilt and penance. Roo might actually BE this big, terrible ‘Root of All Evil’, ‘Embodiment of Sin’, ‘Unfettered Force of Chaos’, ‘Heart of Hell itself’ ultimate big-bad of the show that much of the fandom is assuming…

But only because she/Eve chose this role out of her own guilt and self-loathing. Eve only believes that she’s this terrible, irredeemable person at the root of all the evils of mankind, and has thus chosen to embody that.

And I think in the process of becoming Roo, this being of pure evil, Eve tried (emphasis on tried) to split off all the ‘good’ within her. Which in turn became Rosie. Alternatively, Rosie could have been deliberately split off from Roo to act as her agent, but may have become self-aware enough that she’s trying to stop/save Roo, hence her going out of her way to help Charlie. And of course this would also neatly explain her friendship with Alastor, himself likely also an agent of Roo.

Which in turn is going to be the crux of her conflict with Charlie, and the ultimate villain redemption of the story. Like of course we’re going to find out about Roo’s big, terrible villainous plots to perhaps corrupt humanity or subsume all of Hell or destroy Heaven and how she’s likely the one pulling Alastor’s strings and has maybe had him essentially ‘feeding her’ Overlords to increase her power and how she’s likely the cause of Lilith’s disappearing seven years ago and ending up in Heaven and all kinds of other things our heroes will have to fight against.

Until we get to our big, final confrontation with Roo and both we and Charlie discover that this terrible being of pure evil is in fact this traumatized, grief-stricken woman utterly consumed by guilt and self-loathing. The one person who, more than anyone else, NEEDS the help and redemption that Charlie has spent the whole show trying to offer others.

And also might be Charlie’s other mom.

Yeah, it’s bonkers theory time :D

So back during the rough… twenty to thirty minutes or so between finishing Episode 7 and seeing the post-credits scene in Episode 8, I was VERY sure that Rosie was actually Lilith in disguise (as you can see from this rather amusing post/reblog :D), for basically all the reason I listed above about why Rosie feels like an in-disguise Eve,

But ALSO because of Rosie’s cheek blush-marks that look CURIOUSLY SIMILAR to Charlie’s own. And if you’ve read any of my numerous Rosebird Parents theory posts, you can imagine I immediately latched onto that.

However! This is NOT a theory that Eve is somehow Charlie’s ‘real mom’. That is stupid and I will not hear Lilith slander in this house. Note instead that I said that Eve might be Charlie’s OTHER mom…

Basically I think Charlie has three parents thanks to Lucifer, Lilith and Eve each actually being some variety of functionally intersex due to wacky angel/demon/primordial-human physiology. And the three of them conceived Charlie Gilgamesh-style via Lilith and Eve knocking up Lucifer.

Hey, I want this show to get WEIRD, okay?

Even just speaking generally, we’re already got more or less soft-confirmation that SOMETHING was going on between Eve, Lilith and Lucifer, and that Eve seemed to have specifically left Adam for Lucifer and Lilith. So I’d say it’s not at all a stretch to think that Lilith, Lucifer and Eve will turn out to be a tragic, broken polycule driven apart by each of their baggage and trauma.

Or that a major aspect of the show will end up being about Charlie (with Vaggie’s (and possibly Emily’s…) help) working to get her parents back together.

In fact, I can already imagine what a suitably cute/heartwarming/feelsy reunion Eve could have with Lucifer and Lilith:

Eve, having just been freed from her self-imposed prison/punishment by Charlie, is about to launch into a guilt-and-regret-laden spiel about how she knows how they must hate her and how she doesn’t deserve them…

Only for Lucifer gives Eve a big cute hug.

And then Lilith gives Eve a Big Damn Kiss XD

Simply put, I think it’s pretty clear that Hazbin Hotel is NOT the kind of the show to just go and make a woman the source of all the evil and sin and bad of the world and seemingly the ultimate big bad and NOT examine, interrogate and SUBVERT THE EVERLIVING HELL out of that concept/trope.

[foggysirens]

thinking about luke (again) and lately my mind keeps getting dragged back to the moment in a new hope when he comes back to find the homestead burned and owen and beru gone- and how in that moment there’s not this great exclamation of grief from luke, but just a single look of devastation on his face and that always sends me down a spiral about grief because yeah- grief can be like that, especially giant, all-consuming, world-altering grief. no screaming at the sky. no tears. just silence. shock. and after that luke gets up and goes on to save the galaxy. but what really stops me- what i really keep coming back to- is just thinking about afterwards, after the second death star gets destroyed- how there must have been a moment where he just went ‘oh’ because where was he to go then? because that’s one of the things i think is so easy to overlook, because unlike leia with alderaan and how overt and obvious it is she can never go home, with luke and tatooine its quieter, more like one of those awful revelations that unfurl in your belly- because he could go back, but what to? and i think it’s from such an awful moment that we get this beautiful nature from within luke of wanting to build a home for others with his school and there is something about that, that idea of him really getting to turn the worst moment and feeling in his life into a mission to help others, that once again just endears me to him so through how absolutely human he is and i will never stop talking about it

[inky-writing]

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Inky-writing masterlist Mirage masterlist

Warnings: none

Word count: 910

Chapter 2 : Rainy Day

September 2004

The next morning, Y/N woke to the sound of rain and thunder. Forks had a way of making her feel both claustrophobic and strangely comfortable, as if the constant drizzle was both a barrier and a blanket.

Charlie had already left for work, a note on the kitchen counter reminding her to eat breakfast. She wasn’t hungry, though. The interaction with Dr. Cullen the previous evening had left her feeling restless in a way she couldn’t explain. His words lingered in her mind, replaying like an echo.

School was uneventful until maths class. As she took her seat, she noticed Alice Cullen walking in, her expression light but purposeful. Y/N tensed as Alice’s eyes briefly met hers, a flicker of curiosity evident in their depths. The brunette took her seat without a word, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that the girl knew something, something Y/N didn’t.

By lunchtime, Y/N’s nerves were frayed. She couldn’t help but feel like the Cullens, or maybe just Alice, were watching her. It wasn’t overt, but there was an attention that made her stomach churn. She wanted to confront it, to ask 'why’, but she couldn’t bring herself to cross the invisible line that separated the Cullens from everyone else.

That evening, the clinic called. Dr. Cullen had requested a follow-up about her medical history. Y/N found herself back in the small room, her heart pounding in her chest as Carlisle entered with his usual composed demeanor.

“Thank you for coming back”, he said warmly, taking a seat across from her. “I hope I’m not disturbing your evening”.

“No, it’s fine,” she replied quickly, her voice a little too high. She cleared her throat. “What’s this about?”.

His golden eyes held hers, and she felt that same sense of calm wash over her. “It’s nothing urgent, I assure you. I simply wanted to check in. What you lived often brings up health concerns that aren’t immediately obvious”.

Y/N frowned slightly. “You mean stress?”.

“Among other things”, he said gently. “It’s not uncommon for young people to experience delayed reactions to significant life changes. Emotional and physical well-being are closely linked, after all”.

His voice was soothing, but the topic made her uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat, trying to find the right words. “I… I’m fine, really. I mean, as fine as I can be after everything that happened”.

Carlisle studied her for a moment. Then he nodded, his tone reassuring. “Of course. But if you ever need people to talk to, you’ll find no shortage of people who care about you in Forks. Your uncle speaks very highly of you, and it’s clear he only wants the best for you”.

Y/N’s chest tightened at the mention of Charlie. He was trying so hard to make things better for her, even though she knew he was struggling with his own grief. She forced a small smile. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind”.

Carlisle returned her smile, and for a moment, the tension in the room eased. He stood, signaling the end of their conversation. “Take care, Y/N. And remember, my door is always open”.

The walk home from the clinic was a quiet one, the misty rain wrapping around her like a damp shroud. Her thoughts were a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite untangle. Carlisle Cullen was unlike anyone she’d ever met. There was a gravity to him, a sense of wisdom and compassion that drew her in despite herself.

But there was something else, too—something she couldn’t put her finger on. A feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.

Y/N’s unease only grew over the next few days. At school, Alice’s glances became more frequent, though she never said a word. The rest of the Cullens seemed indifferent, but there was an unspoken tension whenever Y/N was near them. It was as if they were waiting for something, though what that was, she couldn’t begin to guess.

One afternoon, as she was leaving the school library, she nearly collided with Alice in the hallway. The smaller girl stepped back gracefully, her expression bright and unbothered.

“Hi, Y/N” Alice said, her voice cheerful but tinged with something deeper—a knowing undertone that set Y/N’s nerves on edge.

“Hi” Y/N replied cautiously, clutching her books tightly to her chest.

Alice tilted her head, her amber eyes studying Y/N with intensity. “I hope you’re settling in okay. Forks can take some getting used to, but it has its charms”.

Y/N forced a polite smile. “Yeah, it’s… different, but I’m managing”.

Alice’s smile widened, but there was something enigmatic in it. “Good. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask”.

Before Y/N could respond, Alice was gone, disappearing into the crowd. Y/N stared after her, her heart racing. Something was definitely going on, and she was determined to figure out what it was.

That night, as she lay in bed listening to the rain, Y/N’s thoughts kept returning to the Cullens. Their perfection, their coldness, Alice strange fascination with her… It all felt like pieces of a puzzle she couldn’t quite assemble.

And then there was Carlisle. His presence lingered in her mind like a warm glow, comforting and disconcerting. She couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him, even though he was way older than her and that she barely knew him. It was irrational, inexplicable… and utterly consuming.

Chapter 3 >>>

[fadelbison]

Ray's mother, music and the barriers to his heart that Sand must overcome

TW: discussion of suicide This is building upon the shorter meta I wrote here about the Micro song that plays during Ray's suicide scene. The parallels between Ray's arc in falling for Sand and Mew are so overt that I was completely overlooking the person that Sand is really up against in Ray's wounded heart and who, I believe Mew is ultimately a proxy for - his dead mother. I go into a little bit about how Sand's affection for Ray can sometimes read as familial here and I think it's quite readily noticeable how Ray acts very childlike around Sand with his puppy dog eyes and constant wheedling. One thing I do want to note is that Ray doesn't particularly come off as childlike in any of his other interactions either with his friends or in his conversation with P'Yo except for perhaps that first night when he got drunk and told his friends how much he loved them and during the suicide scene when he cries wrapped up in Mew's arms, distraught by how his mother never loved him. I think Ray is the epitome of someone with a deeply wounded inner child and the only way he can ask for love is as a child, somewhat helplessly and appealing to people's caretaker/protective nature. The parent child relationship between Sand and Ray comes up a few times through the episodes. The earliest explicit acknowledgement as far as I can tell is here at the end of episode 2:

There's another explicit nod as to how their dynamic is set up within Sand performing acts of service for Ray in Ep 3:

Sand says he has been Ray's driver, drinking buddy, shrink and chef. Three of those things - driving him around, cooking for him and providing him emotional support are not just familial activities but activities you would normally do for a young child. Sand pointedly leaves out that they've had sex from this list of services. And yes, that's because Sand doesn't view sex as a service and if it was just this then it would be hard to make the point that I'm trying to make which is that Sand needs to fulfill that parental attachment need that Ray craves; give him that type of no strings, unselfish kind of love before he will ever be able to gain Ray's trust enough to be able to build a romantic relationship with him. So how is the show making this point? That Sand is replacing not just Mew but Ray's dead mother in his heart? Well, let's start with the two things that Ray's mother has left him with: 1) music and 2) her alcoholism. Ray's friends were all very surprised when Ray volunteers to arrange the music for the party. While that was more about Ray's lack of interest in taking responsibility (His now in restrospect gut wrenching 'I'm only good for spending money' line from Ep1 like ouch) but it also indicates that none of them really know or connect with Ray over his music. How can they?

Music is such a deeply personal part of him, that's where he keeps the love he holds for his mother; the love that is entirely grief - painful in its vastness, beautiful in its consistency. And the first thing Sand tells him to do is be grateful for it - her good taste in music. The second thing? Is to show him how to enjoy it:

The fact that he's taking his hand and Ray is half resisting it, the silliness of the gesture more than the touch itself but he's undeniably enjoying himself - It reads to me like the awkward, stilted movements of a childperson who doesn't know how to move their limbs when they're first being taught how to do something. And when you realize that the song that Ray plays for Sand in ep2 is the same one that is playing when he's taken the pills - the positive associations that Sand is making with Micro in Ray's life suddenly becomes monumental. This happens twice more in the show. Once, in the car when Sand ditches his date to drive them to Ray's house where they engage in a delightful flirtation around it, Ray singing badly while Sand eats it up complains about it

And again, at the night of the party when Ray tells Sand to play Micro for him and Sand like the simp that he is serenades him with it:

But their connection over music doesn't stop at teaching Ray to cherish and honor his past - and unknowingly the pains that are attached to it. No, Sand goes further to expand it, help Ray find a space for himself in music, carve a corner of it that isn't only pain, isn't only that moment of seeing his mother laid flat on that floor with a whiskey glass inches from her fingers.

When music is such an integral part of Ray's personality how else does one interpret this scene other than Sand telling Ray to move on, when Sand plays Selina and Sirinya for him because finding new music he likes is Sand's happiness how else do I interpret it as anything other than Sand teaching Ray how to be happy? What am I supposed to do but pull out my own hair when they're connecting over music, looking at each other like this:

And Sand will do it AGAIN - as the ep5 preview suggests - take Ray's hand and teach him how to enjoy contemporary music while Ray makes his awkward, adorable face where he's having fun in spite of himself. And the sheer amount of joy that Sand gets in seeing Ray like this is just - they're so insufferable:

But perhaps the most surprising (and delightful!) of all is this:

Ray taking his headphone off, interrupting this magical moment of being with Sand and the music, telling him he wants to be close to nature and drink beer - for the very first time Ray desires alcohol not as a means to destroy himself but as a vehicle of peace and of connection and I haven't been well since seeing it and understanding what it means. In many ways, Ray's mother is such a tragic character. I know nothing of this woman other than the three seconds I have seen of her dead and the frightful way she has driven her son to follow in her footsteps, to feel so unloved and unwanted. And yet she named him Ray Pakorn (pakorn meaning sun) - a ray of sunshine. Perhaps even, her ray of sunshine.

How can I truly believe that she never loved him?

I know Ray tells Mew that she never held him but he loves her so dearly, wants to be with her so desperately, she permeates every moment of his life so thoroughly that the loneliness she left behind isn't a gaping emptiness but the festering carcass of a love so profound and full to bursting that Ray keeps trying to give it away, keeps trying to love his friends, keeps trying to save them and aches in the way that he finds no recipient for it.

People wonder what Sand sees in Ray, why he would fall for him. But Ray is a creature made entirely of love, soft still in the way he lets it rule his life, innocent in the way that he asks for it, precious in the way that he gives it away - How can Sand be anything but desperately in love with him?

[lysenfeu]

Devil in the Details •Part 2•

Captain John Prices makes a desperate decision and takes a huge risk to try and resolve his grief.

Rating: Mature

Eventual John Price x Reader

850k words, Slow Burn, Drabble/Short Form Writing

CW: Dark themes, Mentions of death, Grief, Supernatural events, Occultism, Demons, Corruption

(Part 1)

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Price wastes no time, the moment he's home he lays the book out flat on his desk and studies the circle intently. His fingers trace over the black marks on the page, eyes poring over every splash of ink, no matter how small or smudged. Each line and symbol burning into his mind.

By the time he bothers to read the warning printed boldly beneath it, the words are meaningless. A hindrance only to someone who has something left to lose. It does nothing to quell his determination, this is no longer a choice he's making but an obligation. A duty he's been forced to accept by his own pride.

He gathers his supplies, the list is rather short but specific. Red chalk, a red candle, a small knife and a small red dish. He shoves his desk out of the way and rolls up the corner of the area rug, making room on the hardwood floor for his work.

He forces the small tremor out of his hands as he carefully marks out the symbols onto the floor with the chalk. There is no room for error in this, each stroke of the chalk must be exact. He must create the perfect replica of the sketch in the grimoire. He lights the candle and places a dab of hot, melted wax on each of the twelve star points. Careful not to disturb the chalk, he places the dish in the dead center of the circle. His nerves thrum in anticipation as he anxiously completes the last step, pricking the tip of his index finger with the knife, allowing a few drops of blood to splash down beneath him.

Finally, it's finished.

The circle crackles and hisses to life, the red outline illuminating itself as a cloud of smoke quickly rises from the centre.

He steps back, eyes wide with awe.

It worked.

~*~

It takes you a moment to recognize the tug behind your navel and the tickle at the back of your mind. It's been at least a decade or two since someone initiated your summoning ritual, you were starting to forget what it felt like. But now you can feel the magic pulling at you, beckoning to you through the newly forged connection. You let it carry you, twisting and turning your form through time and space as you have no choice but to answer the call.

Dark wisps of smoke curl out and flood the space before you as you rise from the centre of your circle. Small blue flames dance along the edges, lighting you with a flickering, dim glow as they spin and swirl in haphazard patterns.

As the haze slowly clears, you're able to take a better look at your surroundings. The room is a decent size, filled with dark wood furniture and leather accents. Small half-full bookshelves run along the wall, facing a large, well-worn leather sofa. An unusually tidy mahogany desk sits between them, shoved further back than usual based on the imprints left on the plush, wool area rug underneath. Not a single skull or a shred of velvet in the whole place.

Hm.

Not necessarily a worrisome sign, but odd nonetheless. The type who usually summon you tended to be more … overt in their interest in the occult, if not downright predictable. The kind of person who always used to break out the Ouija board at sleepovers and then grew up to spend too much time antiquing, looking for just the right candle holder. More crystals than sense, the lot of them.

You weren't especially fearsome, your abilities were far more subtle than most. You weren’t really suited for great acts of revenge or rampant bloodshed, anyone looking for an imposing or dreadful creature would be sorely disappointed with you. To be honest, you were more of a party trick. Your summoners really just wanted you to put on a show. So you would dazzle them with billowing pillars of brightly coloured smoke, making licks of fire dance before their eyes, a truly theatrical production. It was a simple routine: make a grand entrance, flash a little horn and tail, accept the offering, grant the favour, done.

Simple.

Quick.

Easy.

On the face of it at least.

Really though, that was the true fun of it.

They never suspected a thing.

With the smoke cleared, you take a moment and study the reason you're here, forcibly called to this time and place. A man stands before you, tense but still on the other side of your circle. He’s tall and broad, handsome in a rugged and weathered way. You note that he’s well-groomed in a utilitarian fashion, showing no hint of the usual flamboyance or flair you expect from your usual patrons. Interesting. Oh well.

Showtime.

“Tell me why I'm here, human.”

The man takes a deep breath before squaring his shoulders and meeting your eyes with a steady, even gaze.

“I need to make a deal.”

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(Part 3)

A/N: Surpriiiise! *You're* the demon ehehe 😈

[mononijikayu]

i wish— kamo choso.

He saw you both grow old together, each wrinkle etched into your faces telling stories of laughter, shared wisdom, and the occasional tears. Sitting together on a porch, watching the sun set into the ocean, you leaned against him, your hair silvered with age, eyes still bright with the love and fierce determination that defined you. There was satisfaction, there was acceptance. There was happiness.

Genre: Culling Games Arc to Shibuya Showdown Arc, 2018;

Warning/s: Emotional Trauma, Character Death, Angst, Romance, Kissing, Tragedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Purging, Unresolved Tension, Inner Turmoil, Flashbacks, Love and Loss, Slow Burn, Closure, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Grief, Depiction of Physical Touch, Mention of Death, Mention of Killing, Mention of Harm, Immortality, Emotional Support, Sibling Bond, Sacrifice, Supernatural Elements, Family Themes, Deep Conversations, Existential Themes, Magical Realism;

masterlist

listen: i wish by renee rapp

note: i disappeared because my internet died for a bit but i wrote this when i got service and got tagged into twitter posts about the new jjk leaks and cried so bad and wrote this. i'm posting this because im not suffering alone!!! i love you choso, you'll always be the best brother and human in the world :((((

YOU WERE A CHANGE OF PACE IN CHOSO’S LIFE. Within the enigmatic depths of the Tombs of the Star, Choso came to a profound realization about the nature of your existence. Here, amidst the swirling arcane energies that filled this sacred space, you existed in a symbiotic relationship with the very fabric of the universe. You shared a unique duality with your sibling, Tengen. You were so similar and yet so different — you fit together, almost like two sides of one coin. Choso had always believed his life, devoted entirely to the love and protection of his siblings, was an exceptional calling. Yet, encountering you, he began to see that he was not as unique as he had once thought. In fact, he considered that perhaps your dedication surpassed even his own.

Your immortality, though less celebrated than Tengen's, was just as essential. It underscored a truth often overlooked: what is an eternal life without a companion, without that shared blood and bond? Your unheralded but pivotal role sustained not just the life but the spirit of the Tombs through countless ages, making you an integral thread in the continuity of existence itself.

Your relationship with Tengen was unique, perhaps the only one they truly had. It was easy to see how it was a core part of your existence to serve Tengen. While Tengen wielded overt power, your own strength was in your subtle. Yours was gentle, tenderness — the care of a loving and devoted sibling.

Your days repeated the same. You often were the one reminding Tengen to sleep and rest. You often brought Tengen their meals. At times you sit days on end entertaining Tengen with conversation. At times you sang to them, songs so old that Choso could not make sense of the words anymore. Day in and day out, Choso saw how you lived for Tengen. How you breathe every day to keep Tengen. Choso had felt like he understood you in that sense. He was, after all, an older brother. What you did for Tengen, he had done for his siblings. He wanted to do it for Yuuji too. 

Yuki told him that you were the crucial component for maintaining the equilibrium of the world. Keeping you alive means keeping Tengen alive and well. Keeping you both alive and well means that Choso can also do well by Yuuji. That was all that mattered, he likes to think. And so, he took his task seriously. He was with you, day in and day out. Because if you didn’t exist, there is nothing for Tengen but lonesomeness. Choso didn’t know how Yuki knew all of this about you, but he thinks it's better not to ask. 

Days melded into each other under the starlit dome of the chamber, and in those seemingly fleeting moments, your bond with Choso deepened. Choso doesn’t really talk that much, he only did when people talked to him. But your words were often expressed. You often wander to dreams—whispers about what it might mean to live a truly human life, to age, to experience the mundane. You smiled each and every time, ever so warmly. In these moments, Choso is reminded how you truly are. He often gets reminded of his mother. You both have the same warmth, he thinks. 

By the tranquil pond fringed with burgeoning water lilies, you and Choso found yourselves in a peaceful reprieve from the routine duties that governed your immortal lives. The soft ripple of water under your fingers created gentle disturbances that set the floating blossoms adrift. Choso, often a man of few words, sat beside you, his gaze occasionally following the serene movements of the lilies.

"I don't think I'm doing enough for Tengen-sama," you whispered to him, your voice laced with uncertainty and a touch of despair.

"Why do you think so?" Choso asked, his features furrowing with concern as he raised an eyebrow at you.

You sighed, feeling the weight of your worries press down on you. "Tengen-sama seems so stressed lately. And I... I don't think I've done enough to help with it." The admission felt heavy on your tongue, a confession of perceived inadequacy. "But I don't think they need me. I don't think I'm powerful enough to... to help them the way they need me to."

Your words hung in the air, a testament to the inner conflict that had been gnawing at you. It wasn't just about being useful or fulfilling a role; it was about the fear of not being enough for someone who mattered immensely to you. The idea that perhaps your presence wasn't as vital as you hoped was a quiet torment that echoed the struggles you faced in your eternal existence beside Tengen. Choso watched you carefully, his expression softening as he processed your words.

“You know,” Choso began thoughtfully, choosing his words with care, “power isn't just about the ability to perform grandiose acts or wield visible strength. Sometimes, the truest form of power lies in our presence, in the steadfast support we offer.”

He paused, ensuring he had your full attention. “Tengen-sama carries burdens we can scarcely imagine, and while you may feel that your support isn't changing anything, it could very well be the anchor that keeps them steady. Being there, being constant—that's a power in its own right.”

Choso's voice was gentle yet firm, trying to uplift your spirits. “And remember, it’s not about being indispensable but about being present. You give them someone to rely on, someone who understands them deeply. That’s not a small thing.”

He reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You might feel that you're not doing enough, but perhaps for Tengen-sama, your continued presence and your care are exactly what they need. It's easy to overlook the value of simply being there, especially when you are used to thinking in terms of more direct actions.”

Taking in his words, you nodded slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. The idea that your value might not always be measurable in the conventional senses of power and strength, but rather in less tangible, yet equally significant ways, offered a new perspective. Choso's reassurance provided a comforting reminder of your role and importance in Tengen's life—not as a savior or a hero, but as a consistent source of support and understanding.

"You always seem so thoughtful," you remarked, smiling as you continued to play with the water, sending another lily spinning gently. "Tell me, Choso, what is it that you hope for in life? Beyond our duties here, what dreams do you carry? What do you wish for?”

Choso looked at the water before him, his expression reflective. "My life... it's bound to my brother, Yuuji. I want to do right by him, protect him, and ensure he can live fully. In many ways, I live for him."

Your laughter, light and understanding, echoed softly around the pond. "I understand that more than you might think. My existence, too, seems entirely woven around Tengen. I live for them, through them almost." Your smile faded slightly into a more contemplative expression. "But do you ever wonder, Choso, if it's wrong to want something beyond that? To live a life that explores the world beyond just being someone's shadow?”

Choso turned to you, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "It's a difficult question. Duty and love bind us, but it's human to crave understanding of the world, to experience it in all its breadth."

"Yes, it is human," you agreed, picking a lily from the water and examining its intricate petals. "And sometimes, I find myself dreaming of a life where I can wander freely, see the worlds beyond these walls, learn and love and perhaps even make mistakes. Just live, not as an immortal bound to duty, but simply as a person."

Choso nodded slowly, his usual reticence giving way to a more engaged demeanor. "Those dreams... they're not wrong. They're part of what makes us more than just guardians or siblings. They make us whole. And perhaps, in dreaming, we find parts of ourselves that duty alone could never reveal."

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, a shared understanding passed between you. Both of you were bound by immense responsibilities, yet within each of you stirred the universal desire to experience life beyond the predefined roles you occupied.

"Maybe, one day, we will explore those dreams," you suggested softly, a hopeful tone threading through your words.

"Maybe," Choso agreed, a rare smile breaking across his face. "And perhaps, in exploring them, we'll bring something back that can enrich the lives we dedicate to those we protect."

The time you spent together in the secluded spaces of the Star Chamber, amid ancient enigmas and whispers of immortality, became sacred. As you shared your deepest dreams and quiet confessions, the bond between you and Choso deepened, moving beyond mere companionship to something richer and more profound. This connection, once unspoken and tentative, blossomed with the ease of a well-nurtured bloom into a tender love.

Amidst the echo of your laughter, which bubbled up like a clear spring in the tranquil silence, and his thoughtful nods, a rhythm developed—an unspoken language of understanding and empathy that only you two could comprehend. Choso, often so guarded and stoic, found in you a solace that allowed him to express thoughts and feelings that he typically cloistered away from the world.

One evening, as twilight draped its violet shroud over the chamber, you both found yourselves by the reflective pool that mirrored the ever-changing sky. The water's surface danced with the light of the first stars, mirroring the flicker of possibilities that your conversations had awakened.

“You know,” you started, breaking the comfortable silence, “I never imagined that someone could understand this part of my life. The part that’s tangled up in duty and care, yet also yearns for something more… something deeply personal.”

Choso looked at you, his usual reserve softened by the topic at hand. “I feel the same. We’re bound by our roles, our responsibilities to those we protect. But speaking to you about dreams, about life beyond our duties, it’s… it’s freeing.” His voice, usually so guarded, carried a hint of wonder, reflecting his own surprise at this newfound openness. “It feels….daring……and human.”

Your laughter, light and genuine, echoed around the natural alcove. “Freeing, yes, and a bit daring too. Being human, in this way — it's hard.”

He smiled, a rare, full smile that reached his eyes. “Daring, but worthwhile. To dream with you, it makes those dreams feel possible, as if they could be more than just whispers in the dark.”

“You make them feel possible for me too,” you admitted, allowing yourself to reflect on the emotional landscape that had unfolded between you. “Before this, my dreams felt like distant stars—beautiful but untouchable. Now, they seem closer, within reach.”

Choso reached out, his hand brushing against yours, a tentative but intentional touch. “Maybe that’s what happens when dreams are shared. They grow, they take on a life of their own. They become something we can both reach towards.”

The simplicity of the touch sent a warmth through you, grounding the moment in something tangible. “And I’m grateful for that. For you,” you added, your voice soft but earnest.

He nodded, his hand gently squeezing yours. “And I am grateful for you. For this peace we’ve found in each other, amidst all the chaos of our existences. It’s a rare gift.”

The serenity that you and Choso had cultivated, a rare respite from the endless cycle of duty and vigilance, was not destined to last. In the realms where celestial fates intertwined, peace was but a fleeting shadow, easily dispelled by the stirrings of chaos. Such disturbance came in the form of Kenjaku, a figure synonymous with disruption and disorder. His intrusion into the sacred confines of the Tombs of the Star was not just a breach of sanctuary; it was a direct assault on the balance you had sworn to uphold.

Kenjaku's arrival tore through the calm like a tempest, disrupting the harmony you had momentarily savored. His motives were clear and malignantly aligned against Tengen's continued influence and your protective stance. With the air crackling with tension and the fabric of reality bending under the weight of Kenjaku’s dark ambitions, you revealed a power kept hidden from the prying eyes of foes and allies alike.

Your mastery over temporal loops, a rare and intricate skill, allowed you to manipulate the threads of time. This ability was not about mere manipulation of moments; it was about reshaping events within confined bursts, creating pockets of altered realities where outcomes could be rewritten, and destinies briefly redirected.

As you confronted Kenjaku, your hands moved with deliberate motions, weaving invisible patterns in the air that pulled at the seams of time. With each gesture, you unraveled  the immediate future, crafting short sequences where different possibilities played out in rapid succession. This was not just a display of raw power but a strategic orchestration of time itself, bending the inevitable towards a reality where balance could be restored.

As Kenjaku's menacing form advanced, the air thick with the threat of destruction, you and Choso stood side by side, united against the looming chaos. The battle's intensity escalated rapidly, with the forces of disorder clashing against the shields of time and duty you both upheld. Yet, amidst the swirling energies and the relentless advance of Kenjaku, you caught sight of the peril that Choso was about to face—a risk you could never allow to come to fruition.

Choso, sensing your sudden shift in focus, turned to you, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "What are you planning?" he asked, his voice tight with worry. He had come to understand you well enough to know when you were about to make a critical decision.

"I need to protect you," you replied, your voice resolute yet heavy with the burden of what you were about to do. "I can create a time loop, a place where you can be safe, where none of this can touch you."

Choso's eyes widened, realization dawning. "No, wait—you can't! What about you? We fight together, remember? You can't just send me away, not like this."

You reached out, grasping his hand firmly, imparting a finality that was both reassuring and heartbreaking. "Listen to me, Choso. This isn’t just about fighting together; it's about ensuring that at least one of us can survive this, and can continue to make a difference. I can manage this, but I need to know you're safe."

"But sacrificing yourself isn't the answer!" Choso protested, his voice rising with emotion. "There has to be another way. We can wait for Yuki; she might have a solution."

"Waiting could be too late," you insisted, your eyes scanning the battlefield, where the fabric of reality seemed increasingly unstable. "I've made my decision. This is the only way I know you'll be truly safe."

With a heavy heart and a sense of urgency, you began the incantation, the ancient words of time magic flowing from your lips. Choso tried to pull away, to argue further, but the spell was already weaving its complex, protective lattice around him.

"I'm doing this because I care, Choso," you said, your voice softening. "In that loop, you'll have peace, and we'll have a lifetime together, even if it's not real. Please, live a full life there, for both of us."

As the last syllables of your spell wove through the air, reality for Choso began to shift, the edges of the present blurring as a new world, shaped by your heartfelt wishes, took form around him. The chaos of battle, the tension of impending doom—all melted away, replaced by the soothing tranquility of a life envisioned with love and hope.

In this carefully crafted reality, Choso found himself in an idyllic version of the world he knew, a place untouched by the scars of conflict or the weight of eternal duty. There, the sun seemed brighter, and the air held the fresh promise of peace. By his side was you, free from the constraints of your immortal obligations, embodying the life you both could have cherished together.

Together, you walked hand in hand towards the sea, the vast expanse of water stretching endlessly before you, its surface glinting under the sun like scattered diamonds. The scene was picturesque, almost too perfect, as if it had leaped from the pages of a forgotten fairytale where every ending was happy, and every heartache healed.

In this serene world, you both raised a family—a dream so distant in your real lives, now vividly alive in this temporal sanctuary. Yuuji and Tengen, often subjects of your protective instincts, appeared not as burdens to be guarded but as children laughing in the garden, playing with others who called you their parent. The simplicity of this life, the joyous normalcy, was a stark contrast to the complexities you had both known.

As years rolled by in this looped reality, unburdened by the passage of time as it would affect the mortal world, Choso experienced every stage of a shared human life. From the vigorous days of youth spent exploring the world with you, through the tender moments of raising children, to the serene acceptance of age, each phase was a gift—a series of moments wrapped in the warmth of enduring love.

He saw you both grow old together, each wrinkle etched into your faces telling stories of laughter, shared wisdom, and the occasional tears. Sitting together on a porch, watching the sun set into the ocean, you leaned against him, your hair silvered with age, eyes still bright with the love and fierce determination that defined you. There was satisfaction, there was acceptance. There was happiness.

Even as this life was but a fabrication, a temporal construct meant to protect and console, for Choso, it felt undeniably real. He lived each day fully, the memories etched into his heart as if they were carved from the very essence of life itself. 

And as the spell reached its inevitable conclusion, with the loop designed to eventually unwind, Choso was left with the imprint of a lifetime spent in blissful peace—a stark contrast to the destiny he had been plucked from, and a poignant reminder of what could have been. This was your final gift to him: not just safety, but a glimpse of a life filled with unbridled humanity. It was joy, love, and the fulfillment of dreams that the real world could never have accommodated.

"Remember me, and live well," were your final whispered words that echoed in the looping reality, even as you turned back to face Kenjaku alone, ready to sacrifice your chance at peace for the safety of the world and the brother you had come to love. 

Outside the time loop, the confrontation with Kenjaku intensified as you steeled yourself for the final stand. The environment crackled with volatile energy, the very air charged with the raw power of clashing wills. Kenjaku, recognizing the depth of your determination, halted his advance, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

“You think to defy me with such feeble tricks?” Kenjaku’s voice was cold, dripping with disdain as he spoke. His stance was predatory, a hunter cornering his prey.

“You underestimate the power of sacrifice,” you replied, your voice steady despite the growing storm of power swirling around you. “This isn’t about tricks or defiance. It’s about protecting what matters.”

Kenjaku laughed, a sound devoid of any humor. “Sacrifice? You would throw away your eternal life, for what? These fleeting mortals? This doomed realm?”

“It’s because this realm and its people are worth fighting for,” you asserted, your resolve hardening. “You may crave power, Kenjaku, but you’ve forgotten the strength found in selflessness. I haven’t.”

“You’re a fool then,” Kenjaku sneered, stepping closer, the ground beneath his feet darkening with corrupt energy. “To throw away immortality for foolish mortals is the height of folly.”

“Perhaps,” you conceded, a sad smile playing on your lips as you prepared the final incantation. “But it’s my choice to make. And I choose them. I choose love and life, even if it’s not my own.”

With that declaration, you unleashed the full breadth of your temporal abilities. Time around Kenjaku began to distort, warping and weaving into complex patterns that ensnared him in an intricate loop of your making. His movements slowed as the layers of temporal magic constricted, binding him with chains stronger than any physical restraint.

Kenjaku roared in frustration, his voice echoing across the chamber as he struggled against the relentless force of your cursed technique. “You cannot hold me forever! You’ll break long before I do!”

“Maybe,” you whispered, feeling the strain of your powers consuming your essence. “But we’ll win, Kenjaku. One way or another.”

As the temporal bindings tightened, you felt your life force ebbing away, each moment drawing you closer to the end. With a final look at the world you were giving up, you poured the last of your energy into the spell, cementing it with the ultimate sacrifice.

“See you in another life, Choso.” you murmured, a tear tracing down your cheek as you faced the end with a quiet dignity. The last of your vision faded just as Kenjaku’s form started to battle against your power. You didn’t know if you’ll be successful in the end, but it didn’t matter. It bought time. It bought time for Tengen-sama to leave. It bought time for Yuki to come for Choso. It bought time for Choso. It was more than enough. That’s all that matters. “Tell me all about it then.”

In the quiet aftermath, the cacophony of battle faded, replaced by a resonant stillness that seemed to permeate the very walls of the Star Chamber. The ferocity that had surged through the area moments before now seemed like a distant echo, a turbulent memory overshadowed by the magnitude of your sacrifice. 

Choso, emerging from the temporal loop, was abruptly returned to a reality far grimmer than the one he had lived in his dream-like existence. The serene life he had known with you, filled with laughter, love, and the gentle aging of shared days, dissipated like mist at dawn. Yet, the weight of those memories clung to him, a tapestry of joy and sorrow woven into his being. Tears streamed down his face as the full impact of his loss, of the life that could never truly be, settled upon his shoulders.

Amidst his reeling senses, Yuki’s voice reached out to him, a tether pulling him back from the brink of despair. He could hear Kenjaku too, the sounds of struggle as the villain fought against the temporal bonds you had sacrificed yourself to forge. The air was thick with the aftermath of conflict, with the poignant heaviness of humanity—loss, grief, yearning, joy, love. These emotions, so deeply human, washed over him repeatedly, each wave a reminder of the life he had momentarily lived and lost.

Yet, Choso stood resolute amidst it all. He bore the weight of these emotions not just as remnants of a spell-crafted illusion, but as the real and enduring aspects of the human condition. He carried them because they were now part of him, imprinted on his soul by the experiences you had given him. And he carried them because that’s what you would have wanted. In bearing these memories, in allowing them to shape his path forward, he honored your sacrifice, turning profound loss into a source of unyielding strength.

That bleak winter day, as Shinjuku was engulfed in flames, Choso found himself at the precipice of his own demise. Engulfed in a brutal confrontation, he struggled valiantly to shield Yuuji from the malevolent Sukuna, whose dark intent was manifest in the fierce and unyielding fire around them. But as the flames consumed not only his physical form but also the last vestiges of his earthly bonds, Choso’s thoughts transcended the immediacy of his suffering.

His mind, resilient amid the encroaching shadows of death, wandered back to you and the ephemeral yet poignant life you had shared in the temporal loop. Those memories, vivid and tender, painted a stark contrast to the chaos that now surrounded him. Each recollection of laughter, shared secrets, and quiet evenings spent together in a world without fear or pain stoked a deep, calming warmth within him, distinct from the searing heat of the flames.

As his physical strength waned, the spiritual and emotional fortitude you instilled in him grew stronger. With each labored breath, the pain that racked his body seemed to diminish, overtaken by the growing serenity of his approaching end. The prospect of reuniting with you, of stepping beyond the veil of life into a realm where you awaited him, brought a profound peace—a solace he had yearned for since the wrenching moment of your departure.

Amidst the dance of the flames, where the heat scorched the air and the roar of the fire echoed the tumult of battle, Choso allowed himself a faint smile. It was a smile of acceptance, of readiness to transition from the tumult of his current existence to the peace that awaited with you. In that instant, amidst the devastation, his heart, burdened with loss and battened with duty, was finally ready to come home to you.

As the moment of departure drew near, Choso turned to Yuuji, who had been both a charge and a brother in arms. The words that passed between them were simple yet heavy with the weight of shared experiences and unspoken understanding. “Thank you, Yuji, for becoming my brother,” Choso said, his voice a hoarse whisper over the crackling of the fire.

Yuji, his own eyes reflecting the flames but alight with emotion, nodded solemnly, the bond between them unbroken even in the face of impending separation. “Thank you, Aniki,” Yuji replied, feeling the tears pour from his face. “Thank you.”

Choso thinks life is enough.

Even if it was only a little while.

He smiles one last time at Yuuji.

His wish was granted now and then.

It was all worth it to him in the end.