#my friends when they see a chimer

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[fazedlight]

“You didn’t jump,” Kara said.

Lena glanced up from her lo mein container, chopsticks in hand. “Jump?” Lena asked curiously.

Kara nibbled her lip thoughtfully, staring down at her potstickers. The evening had been a quiet one - a welcomed change of pace, after a wonderful and chaotic afternoon at Alex and Kelly’s wedding. When all was said and done - after the couple had left for their honeymoon and the party had quieted, after Eliza had taken Esme home for a fun week making chocolate chip cookies with her grandmother - Kara and Lena had found themselves in Kara’s apartment, settling down in their pajamas with a dinner of Chinese takeout.

“For Kelly’s bouquet,” Kara said. “You didn’t jump.”

Lena shrugged, digging into her food with her chopsticks again. “It wasn’t heading towards me.”

“You could’ve used magic,” Kara suggested, thinking of how a certain other super had used her powers to yank the flowers midair.

“And start a duel with Nia?” Lena grinned. “Seemed unwise. Besides, she has a likely candidate.”

Kara smiled. 

“At least I was there,” Lena teased softly. “I didn’t see you in the crowd.”

Kara shrugged. “It’s a human tradition.” 

Lena tilted her head. “What did Krypton have?”

Kara grimaced. “Genetic testing. AI matching. Rules about guild marriages,” she said, “My uncle destroyed the AI, at least. But romance was secondary on Krypton.”

“What about now? On Argo?”

“Romantic love is… still an alien concept, on Argo,” Kara said thoughtfully, popping another potsticker in her mouth. “It existed in some of our stories. But our upbringing, our culture- we had to squash a lot of that down.”

“And now?”

“Now it’s like…” Kara’s voice had lowered to a murmur, and Lena noticed a pink tint rising in her cheeks. Kara cleared her throat, staring into her food. “Now it’s like they’re marrying a close friend,” she continued. “I wouldn’t say they have romance like Earth does.”

“Like marrying a friend,” Lena mulled.

Kara quietly picked at her food.

“And what about you?” Lena said, partially curious, partially… well. She knew Kara could hear how her heart had started pounding, as much as she wished she could hide it.

“Me?”

“You grew up there. But you’ve been here for so long. Where do you fall?”

Kara’s brow crinkled. “I think I…like all the little things,” she murmured. “Giving flowers and chocolate. Kissing. Holding hands.”

“But?”

“Not a but,” Kara said as she glanced up - still avoiding Lena’s eyes, but looking thoughtfully ahead. “It feels so alien to me, but in this wonderful way. Exhilarating. Strange. I feel like I have this chimeric type of romance in my head - not Earthian, not Kryptonian. Like romance is…”

Kara grew quiet, turning her head to her food again, staring silently as the blush on her cheeks seemed to deepen. 

Lena watched for a moment, taking in the unmoving kryptonian - the hint of tightness in her posture, the unusual muteness and stillness. “What is romance for you, Kara?” Lena whispered.

Kara slowly tilted her gaze up to meet Lena’s. “My perfect partner at a game night,” she confessed quietly. “Knowing someone so well that it feels like magic when we’re together.”

Lena let out the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

Kara nibbled nervously at her lip. “You- you don’t have to see it that way,” Kara said, her voice cracking. “It’s not- it doesn’t have to change anything. But I’ll understand if it’s too much…”

“I feel it too,” Lena whispered. “When I’m with you. It always feels like magic.”

“Really?” Kara said. “You could want- you-”

“I didn’t want to catch the bouquet unless it was for you,” Lena confessed. “I just- all I want is to be with you.”

Kara smiled wide, and Lena watched on as the tension seemed to melt away from the still-blushing kryptonian’s frame. “I love you, Lena.”

Lena smiled back. “I love you too.”

[screemnch]

Heterotopias, Pathologic, and what they have in common.

In the introductions of these I tend to put completely unrelated life anecdotes, because this isn't an academic paper. With that being said - I do hope to put together the next instalment of the bilingual madness project that I've started, but not right now. I'm in the part of my life where I'm majoring in a subject and a few months of study have granted me the delusion that I actually know things, and I'm taking that and running with it. This little unhinged essay will include the following:

A brief recap of who Foucault is (really brief. Just for the context)

A little less brief recap of his concept of the "heterotopia", an explanation of some necessary concepts and essays on the subject

The examination of heterotopias in game - how they exist within the fictional town on Gorkhon and what that means

Finally, a pretentious talk about video games and specifically Pathologic as a heterotopia, where I might go completely off the rails and lose all my trains of thought at once.

So let's get started.

Who is Michel Foucault?

Michel Foucault (1926-1984) was a French philosopher, critic, activist and damn near everything. There are few topics in my current major where his name doesn't come up. He's had a say in theories of language, gender, sexuality, identity, space, politics, power and so on and so forth. There have also been multitudes of people criticising his ideas, and not without good reason. In this discussion I'm not putting this dude on a pedestal and I don't encourage anyone to base their whole understanding of philosophy on one French guy's opinion. That being said, let's go look at some of his ideas in terms of language and space.

What is a "heterotopia"?

Wikipedia kindly tells me that the word was first used in the preface of an essay called "the Order of Things". In the preface, Foucault compared it directly to the concept of a utopia (which is where the alarm bells go off for any and all pathologic fans). This was preceded by an important discussion of language in terms of relations - the idea that many concepts and things are described and perceived through the lens of comparison and juxtaposition. Think about how one would perceive light by comparing it to darkness. In Foucault's opinion, these relations make up a grid that shapes our perception. These relations are, by definition, also mutually exclusive. That which is a dog cannot also be a cat. That which the language defines as close cannot be far.

Which is why, immediately after that, Foucault says "lol, syke" there ARE things that can encompass these contradictory sites within themselves; a fantastical conceptual instance in which something like that is possible - he calls those things "utopias". In the preface he even calls the road to such a utopia "chimerical". The more common view of a utopia is "a perfect place with no flaws". But in Foucault's writing, utopias are something that rises above our perception of relations and embodies multiple contradictory things at once - which is what makes it perfect. Most importantly, however - utopias have no physical space. They cannot. Our language doesn't allow for something that exists outside of comparisons, especially not when it physically manifests in our world.

This is why, for example, in pathologic, Aglaya Lilich so vehemently insists that the Polyhedron cannot stand. She calls it a utopia, and those things cannot exist, must not exist. They cannot take up physical space. Which is when our good friend Foucault comes back for a surprise round.

See, we were lead to believe that utopias cannot exist, and it's meant to be a comfort - there isn't anything in our perception of the world that shatters our grid of comparisons and juxtapositions and that's wonderful. But we were, all of us, deceived. And we should be scared, because, to quote him directly - "Heterotopias are disturbing, probably because they secretly undermine language, because they make it impossible to name this and that, because they shatter or tangle common names, because they destroy 'syntax' in advance, and not only the syntax with which we construct sentences but also that less apparent syntax which causes words and things (next to and also opposite of one another) to 'hold together'" (this is still from the preface, yeah). In saying this he does not make clear what exactly a heterotopia is, which is why we'll turn to his other works. Namely "Heterotopias" (the introduction to which, written by Anthony Vidler helped me a ton in understanding what the hell this overly verbose dude is talking about) and its later iteration called "Of Other Spaces." I think those were both originally speeches, but I've found them transcribed, and I'm more focused on their meaning anyway. Those two texts are almost the exact same thing, with a few select differences, which aren't exactly relevant.

We get our proper explanation in these essays that I'll sum up to my best ability. A heterotopia is something that takes up physical space, yet has properties similar to a utopia. A physical space that embodies contradictory qualities. One of his early examples of something that is a heterotopia (but also a utopia at the same time, go figure) is the mirror; the false reality in which you are portrayed in a physical space where you are not, because you are quite clearly not standing in front of yourself, makes it a utopia. Yet the fact that by existing it creates a space in which you are technically standing in front of yourself makes it a heterotopia. He also points out a children's playground as a heterotopia. In "Heterotopias" the essay he likens it to children playing on their parents bed, but we could compare it to, say... A sandbox. Children playing in a sandbox is a heterotopia. The sandbox is a physical space, and yet it's also an unreal "other" space that exists in the children's perception. This space, say, a town, is both existent and non-existent. Contradictory.

Foucault goes to say more about the kinds of heterotopias that can exist, and as he mentions them, it becomes clear as to why architects took to the concept so readily. Many of these heterotopias are not just physical spaces, but buildings - theatres, museums, prisons, etc. There are other types of heterotopias - cemeteries, or "heterotopias of festival", but that's beside the point. A prominent example Foucault brings up is the brothel (a place both public and private at the same time) but he states the "perfect" heterotopia to be the boat/ship. Seriously, he calls them the "greatest reservoir for our imaginations" ("Heterotopias") and waxes poetic about how if we didn't have boats we'd be deprived of dreams. But hey, I'm here talking about a video game, who am I to judge.

Architecture, Space, and the Town on Gorkhon

Good old Wikipedia defines heterotopias as spaces that are somehow "other." Which is a good explanation for people who already know what a heterotopia is. As I've explained above, it's a little bit more complicated than that. However when I first heard the definition, my brain went "That's the Polyhedron! That's the stupid tower from that one game I'm obsessed with!" And indeed, it'd be easy to look at Wikipedia's definition of a heterotopia and compare it to the Polyhedron - it's most definitely "other." Even by what we've established here - it's a utopian contradiction that exists in physical space. So is Aglaya Lilich wrong for calling it a "utopia"? Is it actually a "heterotopia"? Would that change anything at all about the events of the game?

Real answer is: I dunno. Out of context of the game's story, it very much would count as a heterotopia (if we treat it as something existing within a real space, not in game space). It would be an architectural wonder, but it would also be a physical space that encompasses multiple things at once. It's made of paper and mirrors at the same time. It's precarious and safe at the same time. You could even bring in a specific type of heterotopia it could be - namely a "crisis heterotopia" (as outlined by Foucault in both "Heterotopias" and "Of other spaces") - a kind that is supposedly phasing out of existence. A place where people go when they are in a state of crisis. This is where debate would no doubt arise, because there are a bunch of types of heterotopias it could be (heterotopia of deviation, for example) and I love that. It's contradictory. It cannot be juxtaposed to other types of heterotopias. It shatters the liguistic definitions we cling to. Meta as fuck and I love that for her.

But also, raining on the parade of "the Polyhedron is totes a heterotopia, y'all" is the existence of context within and without the game. The town on Gorkhon is not a real space, and isn't in a real time. And that is both as a "game space" (a game played by kids in a sandbox) and as a ""game space"" (a game played by us, the players). In this way, concepts can manifest themselves without manifesting, things can exist without existing. The Polyhedron only takes up physical space within the eyes of the dolls, but to the kids it is no more real than the town itself. Within the laws of the game - the Polyhedron never became a heterotopia. It's a concept that the children spoke into existence, a contradictory thing, that also remains within a fantastical "game space". It's only rational that Aglaya would call it a utopia - her meta awareness allows her to see the tower, the whole town, for what it is. And as a utopia, it should not have a physical manifestation within the world that Aglaya can perceive. She is still just a doll, after all, and the world she perceives is physical to her, even if she knows it's just "game space".

I'm not posing either one of these ideas as "the correct one". You can choose to believe that the Polyhedron is a heterotopia, or you can believe that it's a utopia because it's all a game. You can even say that all of this is bs, and all the developers at IPL were trying to say is that perfection is impossible. But I'm gonna keep playing around and talk about another fun thing: the heterotopias are everywhere.

Go back to treating the town on Gorkhon as a physical space again. You may recall in the examples of heterotopias I cited some buildings and spaces that might sounds particularly interesting. A theatre. A cemetery. There's also the idea that heterotopias have a unique relationship with time, in terms of either constantly accumulating time (museums) or emphasising its transience (fairgrounds). This temporal quality may remind you of the Catherdal in marble nest, where it warps time and changes the way it's perceived. In all honesty, when considering heterotopias besides the Polyhedron, my first thought went to the Abbatoir - it's a place where only select few are allowed, where a collective exists both privately and within the eye of society (which is also themselves), that accumulates time from way back in the history of the town. In short, just like the real world, the town on Gorkhon is full of heterotopias. And it's not surprising - Foucault's first principle of heterotopias established in both of the aforementioned essays is that "there is probably not a single culture in the world that fails to constitute heterotopias". Similarly, no longer thinking of the town on Gorkhon as a physical space, the town becomes a heterotopia as well. That is - it's a town within a sandbox during some kids' playtime. Delightfully meta. Let's all get delightfully meta, shall we?

Are video games heterotopias?

I was unable to find if Foucault has ever said anything about video games throughout his life. Technically he has existed at the same as them, but maybe at this point he had lost interest in talking about these spaces. There are multiple articles out there talking about games and Foucault's theories, and the sole reason why I haven't read them for this essay is because I didn't want to go down a goddamn rabbit hole and waste the next 8 hours reading about... Idk, tadpoles or smth. Let's work from the start, shall we?

Foucault clearly states that children playing pretend in a physical space is heterotopic. The place where they play becomes a heterotopia. Jumping off of that we can assume that things such as LARP (which takes place in a select location) is also a heterotopia, with an addition of some rules that the players adhere to. This leads us to considering things such as live dnd sessions heterotopic as well - players are gathered around a table. Their combat map, the physical space the DM uses to create the imagined space - all becomes a heterotopia (yes I made it about dnd, I'm a nerd of many talents). Once we take a step further, towards things like online dnd sessions and eventually video games - an important question emerges: can digital space house heterotopias? I'm sure Foucault would have considered cyberspace itself a heterotopia, if I've understood him correctly so far (and if I haven't... That sucks, cuz we're almost at the end of the essay). Can a heterotopia exist within another heterotopia? Would it be possible to peel away a layer by claiming that the digital screen - our window to the cyberspace, to the "game space" - constitutes as physical space? Is a video game, in that case, a heterotopia as well? And does that mean that by playing Pathologic we are experiencing a heterotopia, within a heterotopia, within a heterotopia? Are you tired of the "h" word yet?

Truth is, once again: I dunno. I like to believe that it is, cuz it allows me to think of Pathologic as something even cooler than I originally thought. Something even more meta. It's interesting thinking about how something that came from linguistics then went into architecture and eventually came to media entertainment. I also really like the implications that come with the significance of this concept in regards to the architect characters present within Pathologic. I wonder if they knew (given how patho is set in a dubious time, so it'd be difficult to establish if them knowing about Foucault's theories would even be possible). In part I just also felt fascinated by many people linking Pathologic to concepts within theatre (like Codex Entry, or that one post on here about Edward Gordon Craig by tumblr user erriga) and got really excited about bringing something similar to the table. I hope it sparks some discussion and brings forth some ideas from other passionate fans. Anyways.

Go read the actual stuff:

https://www.jstor.org/stable/43202545

https://www.jstor.org/stable/464648

(sorry about the links if they don't work. I'm not technologically advanced enough to figure out if smth is wrong before I post it)

[thesharkbait]

“ The Day We Met ” (M)

chapter two - bittersweet goodbyes

Chapter two - next

story tags/warnings : ot8/reader, male reader, polymerous pack, possessive hints, mature series, bdsm, strangers to lovers/mates, fantasy, courting, fluff, angst, mc is just a sweetie pie, male omega reader, alpha!seonghwa, pack alpha!yunho, alpha!mingi, beta!hongjoong, beta!yeosang, omega!wooyoung, alpha!san, alpha!jongho, mean wooyoung, wooyoung hates reader?, reader is the same height as woozi from svt, 18+ only no minors

chapter warnings : fluff between felix/reader, jealous joong?, this chapter is just y/n settling in mostly, bdsm mention, collaring

length : idk - med (?)

a/n note : (heart divider by @cafekitsune)

Leaving home had to be one of the hardest thing y/n has ever had to do. Having to part ways from the packs pups lead to many tears and cuddles, as they didn’t want there ‘second mom’ to leave. There would be no more singing nursery rhymes and rocking a sleepy pup in his arms to sleep. No more making funny faces to make a pup laugh or convincing them to eating with little airplane motions. No more waking up to birds chirping to the sound wind-chimers blowing in the wind with his best-friend knocking as his door for a morning walk in the never ending field of flowers. Y/n, even though his heart felt like it was being stabbed knew this wasn’t the end of the world even though the packs pup were like his own children, but it sure did feel like it. The life before him held many opportunities whether good or bad he was finally ready, he had to be. Gripping onto his light blue suitcase y/n looked up at felix once more with love-filled teary eyes.

This was the part he wasn’t ready for, the bittersweet goodbye. When y/n met felix they had just presented, even though they were both omegas they had loved each other dearly but they weren’t mates. They had experienced everything with each other yet this is where y/n would have to learn to survive without his best friend. He knew he couldn’t depend on felix for the rest of his life, “please lixie..don’t leave me” y/n whimpered out in a wobbly tone, his breath erratic. “Who will i aggervate when im bored, or when i run out of chocolate!” Felix knew the omega would be like this. He would be lying if he said this would be easy for the both of them. Change is never easy for anyone with a fragile heart, but they had to be strong. They would see each other again he would make sure of it.

“You’ll be fine pup, plus i will be calling you every chance i get. You better not forget about me when your all coupled up with your new pack okay?” Letting out a hearty laugh felix wiped away y/n’s never ending tears, the chestnut haired omega always got emotional went it came to just about anything. It was then everything dawned on felix as he felt his own tears falling down his face. It was then everything dawned on felix as he felt his own tears falling down his face as he heard y/n beginning to sing his favorite nursery rhymes like he would do for the pups but now it was for felix.“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine you make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear how much I love you please don't take my sunshine away..” Looking over one another's features for the millionth time felix gently caressed y/n's cheeks placing a passionate kiss on his lips, “i love you see you soon” y/n smiled through the tears before they parted ways entering their planes.

The betas had spent all morning cleaning up around the house along with a overly excited alpha seonghwa getting ready for hopefully their new pack member and omegan helper. It was safe to say that the pack was restless. Luckily the pack seemed to get a few hours asleep before being waken by yunho double check over everyone. “I dont see why everyones so excited, we are perfectly fine without some outsider who probably smells like some country whore” wooyoung gritted out as he brushed his teeth with a sleepy jongho who was getting dressed. Not everyone in the pack was happy with what was happening that being their beloved omega wooyoung. Although this wasn’t a surprise for the rest. Wooyoung was one of the most territorial in the pack while their pack alpha was the most possessive. Wooyoung couldn’t see how everyone was actually excited with having another omega, wasn’t he enough? Plus how would the new omega even fit in, he was the same height as woozi yet wooyoung didn’t find it cute as he did with his hyung.

Yunho went up to the omega embracing him from behind followed by gently nuzzling into his neck to scent him, “be nice it’s not as bad as you think? i though you wanted to be the head omega, you did say you wanted someone to take care of like we take care of you. We love you, i love you we are not replacing you. We all decided this together remember? We need this to go well, for everyones sake” the alpha hummed out trying to calm and reassure his annoyed mate. As the pack alpha, yunho understood where his mate was coming from and why he was acting this way. He knew wooyoung wasn’t actually upset but pent up in. The alpha was probably the most excited for having the chance at having someone to help balance the pack. Don’t get him wrong he loved his pack with his whole being but he always felt as if something was missing and he knew everyone else did too.

Fighting between the pack had gotten worse over time, with the uneven number of omega and alphas only made the fights more intense. Not to mention having a pack full of doms made ruts and heats harder on the betas especially yeosang. Wooyoung was more dominant than some other omegas in the industry were but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give up his control some times. He loved his alphas and had no problem dominating his betas in bed but everyone knew he wanted another omega too, yet he was stubborn and refused to let anyone near his pack.

“Lets go everyone! We have to be there by three o’ clock, manager-hyung said their already at the facility!!” hongjoong and yeosang’s voice rang out sweetly while rushing everyone out the door and into the van. Seonghwa beating everyone to the van took his place in the front, “do you think their a girl or a male? i doubt it will be a male meaning how they are almost rare to find but by the description i think their a male.”

“They said their from a secluded pack so im guessing a girl” mingi stated confidently before being shoved to scoot over by a cranky san. “Would yall shut up already?! God we better be stopping for coffee before we get there”

One thing about coming from a secluded pack in the woods to a big city wasn’t the big buildings and fancy hotels no no it was the amount of people. Not only was y/n’s hand shaking from being nervous he was also excited, so much that he happy scent began to feel almost suffocating in the small car for the company’s designated driver. The drive to the company building from the airport allowed him two hours to take a cat nap and mentally prepare himself for his new lifestyle. Being a omegan helper meant he was to act as the packs personal mate which meant he was there to offer them comfort, affection, scenting or anything the group particularly needs. They also help with heats or ruts which in this case he will as both partys gave their consent.

As the car pulled up to the company y/n hurried with gathering his hand held things such as his phone and shark plushie, before he went to get his suitcase from the trunk. Luckily, the worker assigned to him didn’t seem in a rush but only annoyed as he struggled for a bit. Y/n made sure to put on his best friends large hoodie for extra comfort in the car before the arrived or else he is positive he would have been scolded. “Welcome, i’m Kim, i will be guiding you to hopefully meet the pack who you will be joining to be their new omegan helper.” Y/n quickly bowing in respect before going to shake her hand only to be politely denied which made him slightly embarrassed. Choosing to brush it off he followed behind her to one of the empty rooms with a large two way mirror. It was as if y/n was in some foreign paradise. The building was gorgeous and unlike any back where he stayed but he would have to just get used to if he was going to be working for a famous group.

“Here you will wait and since they already know you scent from your application i will bring you a piece of their clothing for you to scent. If all is well you may enter through door beside the mirror whenever you are ready. Also you can see them but they cant see you so don’t worry everything is still anonymous.” she stated calmly before closing the door. Pulling out his phone he quickly texted felix that he had arrived to the building followed by a string of messages about the size of the building and how fancy looking it was.

Glancing around the room y/n rolled his suitcase to the two way mirror while clutching his plushie he stared at the mirror at the eight men starting to fill the room. “Oh my god” he whispered to himself in amazement it was like looking at god like men. It was then when he started to feel underdressed. Nibbling on his bottom lip y/n shifted in his spot beginning to think he was at the wrong place, “..maybe i should have worn something else.” Once attempting to fix his fluffy head of curly chestnut brown hair he sighed in defeat. Broken from his star-struck state the worker walked to him handing him a heavily scented hoodie but this time from the presumed pack alpha. Clutching the cloth he took a cautious whiff, peppermint, he identified almost instantly holding the hoodie close to himself feeling his heart begin to race it made him feel a sense of safety. “I’d like to meet them now if thats..okay” he stated softly with butterflies in his stomach. Nodding her head in relief Kim, his designated omegan worker, grabbed y/n’s suitcase and opened the connecting door while y/n stood behind her.

“I will be just outside the door if you need me” kim gently pulled y/n from behind her earning a betrayed look from the omega. Kim whispered to him a few encouraging words before exiting the room with a kind smile. Gripping onto his suitcase handle and hand held things which now included the pack alphas hoodie y/n inhaled a shaky breath. “I- hello im y/n l/n, its a nice to meet you all. I promise to do my best and help the pack” his voice wavering.

The silence that filled the room almost made the omega follow her yet the next thing that happened surprised him. Suddenly he was being embraced by a cheesing beta, “Oh my gosh you do smell good just like chocolate cake and oh god you’re so small!” hongjoong embraced the omega in a bear hug with a smile that could heal the world. Y/n felt like his heart was going to jump out his chest as he began purring softly. Yeosang joining in hugged y/n from behind. He could almost cry from the betas hug alone it felt like home.

“i told you they would be a girl!” screamed a proud alpha. “um im sorry? im a boy did i enter the..wrong room i was told to come in here if i accepted the scent on the hoodie” y/n questioned pointing at the cloth in his arms, he was almost embarrassed but by the woodsy-peppermint scent filling the room he was sure this was the one. Seonghwa tried to hide his laughter as mingi fell quiet his face slowly turning pink.

“Im sorry for that, hello y/n im Yunho also the packs alpha that was Mingi one of our alphas. Thank you for accepting us really, you dont know how long we were searching for a omegan helper that met our requirements. One that could well handle all of us” yunho spoke up from behind hongjoong who was still holding onto the omega.

“Joongie you have to let him go so we can finish introducing,” reluctantly the head beta let go only to be replaced by a smiley alpha. “Hi i’m Seonghwa another alpha that was hongjoong our lead beta, then theres yeosang a beta he’s a real sweet heart i promise, and this is jongho an alpha he’s also our maknae. Then there is san an alpha, and our precious omega wooyoung.”

Y/n stood in silence remembering each name, face, and scent. Yunho, pack alpha woodsy-peppermint, mingi - cinnamon, seonghwa - red wine, hongjoong- hazlenut, jongho - bonfire and smores, yeosang - honey and fresh flowers, san - freshly made coffee, wooyoung pack omega - vanilla. Suddenly when he was remembering the last one the omega scent seemed to turn slightly bitter as he made eye contact, did he do something wrong? Walking up to them he bowed respectfully maybe he should apologize yet when he went to speak he was cut off.

“You just got here and.. i cant stand you already” the packs omega gritted out before walking out the room pulling san with him. The packs head beta sighed acting like nothing happened while releasing calming pheromones. He knew the omega was upset but not then the way one would think so he wouldn’t mention it. It would take some time before wooyoung would actually get along and talk to their new pack member normally. Especially when y/n came in smelling like other unknown omega. “Come we already got your room ready i think you will love it, here let me get that for u” pulling y/n’s suitcase hongjoong led them to the van they originally came in. “Don’t mind him he didn’t mean what he said okay? He is just not in the best of moods today.” Yunho spoke softly not to scare y/n while gently placing his hand on the omega’s lower back to guide him out the door.

Walking into the packs penthouse y/n gasped as he toed off his shoes. This was nothing like at his old pack house, no it was more spacious not to mention expensive. There were no pups running around playing tag resulting in stuff being knocked over or any babies begging to be held. No field to go running through to make flower crowns. “Come ill show u to your room, me and sangie decorated it. We tried to make it seem like you were back at home but we didn’t know really how so we just kinda made it soft looking?” hongjoong said with a giggle setting the omegas luggage don’t on the floor. The beta couldn’t seem to stop himself from helping the omega. He was just so genuinely happy that he couldn’t help wanting to know everything y/n was willing to tell him. It had been a while since the pack had been interested in meeting someone new that would potentially become apart of their pack. “I can help you unpack if you’d like. Also if you don’t mind me asking, how was life back where you’re from i mean like in a secluded pack and all.”

Y/n listened to the beta ramble on. Hongjoong hadn’t left his side since they met back at the facility, even when they got into the van he insisted that y/n sat by him. Even now that they are at the packs house when the others went to the pack alphas den the beta stayed. “That would be great, and well it sure is different than being here i mean in the city and all not to mention a different country” y/n giggled he couldn’t help but be flustered by the other giving all of his attention to him. “Back at home me and lixie’s job was to watch over the packs pups while the parents did their own jobs within the pack. I loved my job the pups were like my own in a way, they would even call me momma at times” y/n smiled at the memories his scent becoming sweeter. “i would sing them to nusery rhymes and put them to sleep while lixie feed and played with them. Back at my old home there was lots of woods and spacious fields so me and lixie would go on picnics almost everyday.”

Hongjoong unpacked the omegas clothes while listening to him share his life stories, this was all new to him as none of his pack members ever lived in a secluded pack. Picking up one stack of folded clothes he paused. These didn’t smell like y/n, no these weren’t his. Why were someone else’s clothes with his? Jealousy ran through the betas body almost instantly. Why was he jealous already over someone he had just met him, yet he couldn’t help feeling jealous every time the omega mentioned his friend by their nickname. He felt as if the omega was already theirs. Now that he thought about it why was he wearing someone else’s hoodie.

“Oh here ill do those” y/n quickly suggested while picking up felix’s heavily scented clothes. Taking a deep breath before shoving half of the stack of clothes into the dresser leaving the other half on his bed to include in his nest. “Is everything okay? if you’re hungry i can cook something this is the last of my stuff here.” The smiling omega stood up dusting off his legs while watching the beta.

“oh no im fine i mean yes, yunho wants to have a meeting all of us tonight to make sure everything was covered on your application like the packs ruts and heat schedules. Also he wants to make sure the other more personal things are covered” fake smiling hongjoong joined y/n standing. Guiding y/n to the kitchen joong showed him where everything was before excusing himself. “If you need help with anything just call out”

Once he was by himself a call rang through his phone the name sending a bright smile to y/n’s face. “Lixie!! what took you so long to call me back?” the omega whined with a playful pout as he set up his phone to pull out the ingredients to make a small meal for the hungry beta making sure to include the rest as a thank you gift.

“Im sorry baby i had to get settled in first. How has my precious omega been hm? are they treating you well?” felix said while staring at the now busy y/n. “Are you about to cook?”

Reaching into the fridge he replied calmly, “Yes im making something small yet fulfilling. Its gonna be a thank you meal for them accepting me and all. Maybe ill even make your favorite cookies.” Exhaling y/n washed his hands to begin mixing the dough for the sugar cookies.

Felix shook his head knowing this wasn’t the only reason his best friend cooking and baking cookies,“what happened you only make my favorite cookies when something has happened, or do u miss me” felix said teasingly while making a kissy face to the camera making y/n roll his eyes.

“They are all nice really..and i just miss you a lot thats all. This is gonna be the first time i have to shower alone” he stated softly while cutting up some meat for the handmade ramen he was making for the pack. Y/n didn’t want to tell him how hurt he was when one of the packs members didn’t bother to hide how much he disliked him already. Not only that but how it was their omega who seem to be upset with him. He would have been fine if it wasn’t a fellow omega, omegas normally stayed together. “But i have your clothes to help build my nest with so ill be okay”

After a few hours of talking with felix, y/n reluctantly hung up the phone. Nibbling on his bottom lip he began wrapping up the small batch of cookies he made just for the other omega, “maybe he will like these too.�� Placing the wrapped cookies on the counter he wrote a small note, for wooyoung-hyung only from y/n ending the note with a small heart. Y/n smiled to himself hiding the gift somewhere he knew the omega would find them.

Later that night in the living room sat the whole pack and y/n. Yunho holding a cheery yeosang in his lap with while the rest sat in a circle around them with y/n towards the middle. “As you may know, in our pack we are quite possessive with whats ours. Some more than others like joongie and woo, as you’ve see in the application process. There is a few packs like ours such as BTS, SF9, NCT and OnlyOneOf, but before we go further into that as pack alpha i would like to make sure that what you agreed to in your file is correct. In your file you said you are comfortable and consent to bdsm related things correct?” San wrapped his arms around wooyoung scenting him as his cat-like eyes made eye contact with y/n, he started whispering to the omega in his lap with a sly smirk.

“Yes i consented to it now in person and on file. I also agreed to helping with the packs needs, of any sort” breaking eye contact, y/n spoke confidently. Although his voice seem to come out softer than intended. Y/n was no stranger to such topics as he and felix often talked about it, they even went as far as trying it out them selves. This was how the omega found out his preferences, without a doubt he was a submissive. It was more than obvious that he preferred not being in control which was why yunho didn’t bother questioning y/n on such. Yeosang then slide off the alphas lap going to sit by his fellow beta who was becoming restless, “calm down baby he’ll be ours soon, go sit behind him. i’ll keep watch of the others.” Slowly sliding behind y/n hongjoong pulled the omega into his lap. Gliding his nose against his neck hongjoong glanced at wooyoung smirking. Keeping eye contact he continued to lightly scent the omega in his lap. The beta knew what he was doing, placing a short kisses on y/n’s scent glands, teasing the glaring omega across the room. Y/n leaned back into the betas chest as the smell of hazlenut washed over him. Letting out short breaths, y/n held back a whimper his face flustered as his eyes glossed over he mumbled out, “..please joongie.” The beta to chuckled before lightly shushing him.

Walking into packs nest Yunho grabbed a small jewelry box, glancing at the black velvet collar inside. The elegant looking collar had the groups name branded on the front followed by white lace, a small sliver bell in the front, and a keyhold in the back.

[lobotomy-maybe-bestie]

// jan heller levi - waiting for this story to end before i begin another // disco elysium // the amazing devil - two minutes // simone de beavoir - diary of a philosophy student, 1928/9, volume 2 // stephen adley guirigis - the last days of judas iscariot // counting crows - anna begins // kriti g // @/monomoss // mitski - i bet on losing dogs // @/bpd-chimere // keane - leaving so soon // @/yousaveeveryonebutwhosavesyou // the amazing devil - two minutes //

[ID: several screenshots of text:

1. All my stories are about being left, all yours about leaving. So we should have known.

2. I like pain and burning light and wanting things from people who don't want to give them to me.

3. If I'm good will you come back / If I'm good will you come back / If I'm good will you come back

4. why can't you see me? why can't i stop needing you to see me?

5. Judas: Why... didn't you make me good enough... so that you could've loved me?

6. This isn't love / Cause if you don't wanna talk about it / It isn't love / And I guess I'm gonna have to live without / But I'm sure there's something in a shade of gray or something inbetween / And I can always change my name if that's what you mean

7. I hope one day we can forgive each other for not being what we wanted each other to be

8. being queer is so painful. why do we all fall in love with our best friends

9. I bet on losing dogs / I know they're losing and I pay for my place by the ring / Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down

10. Can't stop thinking about how it's so easy for them to not talk to me, yet I become physically ill at even the idea of not having them around

11. You're leaving so soon? / Never had a cance to bloom / But you were so quick to change your tune / Don't look back / If I'm a weight around your neck / Cause if you don't need me / Then I don't need you

12. I hate the fact that when people leave me they just move on and forget about me but I'm stuck here constantly thinking about them and I can't get over that they've left me

13. Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine / These hands are growing cold / They're running out of things to hold / Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine

END ID.]

[tgrailwar-zero]

Well, sounds like it's time for you to get your sea monster-slaying chops.

You told her to cut through- slash in a way that would be inescapable.

MUSASHI: "…"

She took a breath, and you saw a gleam in her eyes.

Not a human gleam. The gleam that appeared in the eyes of men reflected life and broad possibility. The gleam in the eyes of this woman reflected death, and the 'culling' of possibility in order to reach perfection. Her face, delicate and beautiful like a flower, was suddenly harsh and cold like steel, before--

You could barely track her movements. A blur, a spiral of red and blue-- no, even color couldn't keep up. There was a 'gap', a 'moment', a 'place where something happened' between when MUSASHI prepared and when she struck.

A 'void'.

MOBY DICK's hide was tough, yes. However… a sword saint did not just look at physical strength, but spiritual strength. What was the 'essence' making up this entity, and how could it be cut apart? The art of sword saints had been lost centuries ago, long forgotten-- but this was a Heroic Spirit that embodied one of those great legends!

That being said, before your mind could 'comprehend', she was off the deck and had slashed into the massive monstrosity, her blades having carved a clear line from the front of its face, through its eye, and across the right side of its body.

A scar- no, a message.

'If you live, then you will forever be known as one spared by Miyamoto Musashi.'

'If you die, then all will know that you were slain by Miyamoto Musashi.'

Those two outcomes had presumably become the only two paths for this beast, and she was determined to cut those two down to 'one'.

The kind of 'unbridled confidence' that came with such a dangerous Heroic Spirit.

-

JAGUAR MAN: "It looks like the Null Zero Samurai has landed a critical hit! Only a few warriors manage to spook Moby Dick like that! As expected from our cold-hearted warrior!"

DURYODHANA: "That swordsmanship, dealing that kind of damage to a monster like Moby Dick... you know, even yours truly is finding himself impressed. They've already passed the 10 seconds that usually takes out lesser fighters." -

You whipped your head to the top of the whale's head, where the swordmaster sat crosslegged with a smile as the whale thrashed. She had an expression as if she held the wisdom of a sage, the childish MUSASHI of before long gone.

MUSASHI: "In the Void is virtue, and no--"

The whale suddenly began diving, taking the samurai with it.

MUSASHI: "Hyaaaaah--!! My dramatic moment--!!!"

Ah. There's MUSASHI. Welcome back.

Sploosh.

She was rapidly disappearing beneath the water. The whale itself was so large that by the time she was fully submerged and decently deep, only about one-third of it was under the water.

ADMIRAL: "Fire, fire, fire! Before it goes under! The Samurai gave us an opening, so we're taking it!"

The barrage gave it no room to effectively counterattack. For an opening move- delivering a 'stun' dual attack was quite impressive.

The ADMIRAL yelled, as several cannonballs were fired. They battered into the side of the large beast as it let out a low, long, beleaguered groan and tottered a bit as it sunk, clearly injured by the dual-attack.

The coin she held aloft began to glow.

ADMIRAL: "Oh…! The 'Lucky Shot' is getting stronger! This coin… this holds the essence of an 'Endowed Hero'. It glows when fortune begins to flow my way. A guiding star- no, a 'treasure map'! That strike from the Samurai brought us one step closer to riches, my friends!"

She let it dance between her fingers, deftly moving between her digits as she grinned, wide and wickedly

An 'Endowed Hero'… a hero that 'amassed blessings and fortunes'…

That sounded... familiar.

She cackled, raising the coin high.

ADMIRAL: "The coin amasses 'fortune', I spend 'fortune'. 'Ebb and flow', the Priestess said to me. If I held onto it and didn't do a damn thing with it, I could be the wealthiest, strongest woman in the Solar Cell! Of course, she knows me too well, so she knows I'll spend it! Money is Power, as they say! Ahahaha!"

Your Servant continued to sink with the whale, her swords jammed into the beast to use as handholds. There was one benefit to being a Servant, which is that 'drowning' wasn't a worry unless she was subjected to something that could specifically drown spirits, so--

MUSASHI: "…mm?"

She blinked, with the realization that she was actively holding her breath- a human instinct that would normally have been overwritten by the Servant instinct of 'breathing should be fine'. Which meant…

...This was one of those places that was designed to be able to 'drown' Servants?

Oh no--

MUSASHI: "...!"

Wait, she could breathe? Even with that 'trait' on the water?

From somewhere distant, you could practically feel a certain Rose Emperor puffing her chest out and proudly pointing at the television.

ADMIRAL: "Huh, looks like she's got a pretty nifty Mystic Code on. Guess Jawsica won't have to fish her out after all. Let's keep fighting, everyone!"

See this post to choose SABER's actions!

There are some moves that count as 'critical' moves in this scenario- picking those options will increase the potency of the ADMIRAL's 'Lucky Shot'!

'Critical' moves are guaranteed when spending mana, but it comes down to 'luck' when using regular moves!

SHIP STATS

The ship took some damage from the wave that was reduced by SABER!

SHIP'S HULL: [ X / X / X / X / X / X / X / X / X / X / ]

MAGICAL ENERGY: [ X ] [ X ] [ X ] [ X ] [ X ]

'LUCKY SHOT': [ X ] (Power: Stage 2)

[snugglesquiggle]

A fallacy I’ve engaged in, now that my writing has achieved some success, is to turn that success into the goal. When I contemplate writing, too often I’m no longer thinking about the story, I’m thinking about what I want the story to be. How I want the audience to be impressed with me, how I want them feeling about what I’m writing.

But all my best stories happened because I simply had an idea that I wanted to convey and so I explained it. No pretense, no expectation.

I sometimes think about how, when it comes to the fundamentals of computation, there’s a distinction drawn between the primitive recursive functions, defined by iterating in bounded ways on a set of simply defined procedures, and the μ-recursive functions, defined by an infinite loop over all possibilities. Primitive recursive functions are necessarily total, everywhere well-defined, while a μ-recursive functions may never produce a valid answer.

It’s so much easier to recursively build out what’s you want to write, then to do an unbounded search for the best way to achieve some particular end. In principle, μ-recursive is so much more powerful, and yet it invites so many headaches, so much undefined behavior.

Something that stands out to me is that yesterday, at first it really felt as if my latest depressive trough might be finally cresting again.

My day started out with some thoughtful conversations with friends about An Opaque Heart, and I even had an idea for how to finally revise the opening. And then… I did nothing. I never quite resolved how to get started.

Then, later that day, I wrote two thousands words as a one-shot, spurred by nothing but an compelling image, a moment between J and Uzi I wanted to revel in. It wasn’t even supposed to be that long!

And that’s the thing. That’s always the thing. All my best work wasn’t supposed to be.

I’ve watched this cycle play out so many things, over and over. Endless Stars, my first novel, (and still my most polished work after HT) started out as me chasing imagery in a notebook while distracted in high school.

230k words later, choked by ambition, I started up so many projects. First And the Darkling Reefs Abide, then Of Waterweft, then There Lies Already the Shadow of Hope.

TLAtSoH got a 5k word chapter one, followed by a 9k word chapter two, (not) followed by a chapter three that paralyzed me for months. Working through all the lore I needed for the scenes to come birthed Black Nerve. And after all that, aching for something simple, I started up a quest, so unserious I wrote the updates directly in discord.

People liked it, I liked it, and it became Eifre Quest. How far out of hand did it get? The first chapter was six hundred words. The fifteenth chapter was thirty-one thousand. That was the climax of the first interlude arc, where I had an image I wanted to deliver, and was determined to deliver it.  Even if I had to write a novella to get there.

That first interlude arc was supposed to be a quick break before we get back into the main action; so with the second interlude, given how well the first turned out, I made my plans just as ambitious. Guess what? The quest is on abandonment-hiatus right now, dead one chapter into that second interlude.

After/during EQ came Kaon Rising, which was intended flat-out to be a be braindead indulgent power fantasy slop appealing to the type of reader who loves isekai and litrpg. How braindead did it turn out? I choose to give the main character a power that hinges on cubic volumes, and the fifth chapter open on an exposition about the ecological physics of magic light.

The list continues; A Chimerical Hope was simply me trying to write a summary; Aurora Moonrise was literally a sidebar example crafted purely for an essay. I’ve already talked at length about the genesis of Hostile Takeover and An Opaque Heart elsewhere.

You see the pattern already, don’t you? I start off unserious, realize I’m actually cooking, try desperately to keep cooking, and the water boils out of the pot.

(This isn’t even the first time I’ve had this observation.)

Every time I see the things I’ve accomplished, I naïvely assume that doing it by accident proves I can do it on purpose — as if adding expectation could only add.

In comments and author’s notes, I’ve lately expressed how the need to live up to the hype has kept me from writing more HT, but yesterday, in my latest comment apologizing for the delay in finishing chapter seventeen, I realized something.

If you went back one year and suggested to my past self I write something to the standards I’m holding chapter seventeen to, I never would have even attempted.

Hostile Takeover, in my mind, has become something I’d never write if I knew what I was getting into. I never wanted to write something so grand — and no one ever asked me to.

Now, this isn’t me saying I’m abandoning HT — though something I’ve been carefully dancing around saying in these all discussions is that I frankly don’t care all that much if I never update HT again, but that’s mostly tiredness speaking. I can fall back in love with the story with some more distance.

If nothing else, I had some cool ideas for the remainder of the plot, and I’m more than willing to summarize where I was going with it. “Summarize”, that is — you know how this song and dance turns out.

Ultimately, none of what I’m saying here is very new, it’s the same old advice. Keep your eye on the ball and stay out of your head; you can’t lock in with self-consciousness getting in the way.

In Jujutsu Kaisen, a skilled sorcerer with total concentration is capable of applying magical energy to a hit within a microsecond of landing it, unleashing profound power in a flash of black sparks. Saturo Gojo, the greatest sorcerer, even wielding all the insight of his mystical eyes, still couldn’t pin down all the variables.

Peak doesn’t come from trying for peak. Because no one, not even Saturo Gojo, can land a black flash on command.

[shark-myths]

Sending My Love From the Other Side

Things we should discuss:

Pete’s sexy metal Viking princess unitard, he’s waiting to be rescued by a barbarian, I can only presume he is a bride-prize for the hero who can save him

The Folie-ness of it all, the ship at sea but not doomed, not this time; instead it is a vessel of hope

The mythology-of-the-band frame narrative

How the title references back to Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash

Stardust stardust stardust and Pete’s fear of space objects

What do Field of Dreams and The Princess Bride have in common?

For those expressing concern about Joe’s absence both on Sunday and in this video—he writes in his recent book, None of This Rocks, about emergency back problems during the latter end of this pandemic, compromising his ability to walk for a brief post-surgical time, exacerbated by overworking. He writes about learning boundaries, learning to rest, and asking his band for accommodations for his health. It seems likeliest that he’s recovering from a back-related issue, rather than conscientiously abstaining from participating in this record as he describes doing with MANIA.

General ranting about lyrics:

DISCLAIMER: It’s not me, okay, it’s the text, it’s Pete being incapable of writing anything that doesn’t sound like it’s about forbidden queer love, I could not make this shit up, I truly could not

“Model house meltdown”

Reminds me of walking through the house in your shoes, I’m supposed to love you; reminds me of I’m just playing house, no idea what I’m doing now. It’s a very dark Tim Burton-y sentiment from an outwardly happy man living a domestic fairy tale.

“We were a hammer to the Statue of David, we were a painting you could never frame, and you were the sunshine of my lifetime.”

THE PAST-TENSENESS HERE

Right from the start, this sets us up for something universally perceived as perfect and beloved being destroyed. This could be a reputation, a cultural relic, a profound piece of history, a narrative, a love. We were a hammer that destroyed it, that perceived thing… 

We were a painting too profane to be displayed in a museum, hidden and damned? Or we were larger than life, uncontent to be contained by a frame, always in motion, chimeric and twining, together apart, together apart, a tesselated image you can only see if you zoom out and unfocus your eyes.

You have all read my opinions about twenty years of Patrick = sunshine metaphors, which seem to be getting pretty FUCKING literal here at the end of days.

“Nowhere left for us to go but heaven, summer falling through our fingers again”

Among other things, this seems to be a VERY explicit reference to Heaven’s Gate.

I am feeling the hope of MANIA (you know my manic poly dream reading of that beautiful, purple beacon of hope) replaced by what the pandemic / apocalypse did to us all. So much for stardust, indeed.

Summer symbolizing touring, festival circuits, linking to the recent FOB instagram post that showed video from the Hella Mega Tour with the caption “take us back here.” The liminality and fleeting-ness of those spaces, those selves, that unmoored time of doing nothing, being everything. The way they want to be home when they’re on the road and the way they want to be on the road when they’re at home. Summer slipping through our fingers again, like the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass, gone past, gone past.

“What would you trade the pain for? I’m not sure”

Isn’t that a fucking question, my friends!!! The pain of longing, unsatisfied, love, unrequited or unconsummated, forbidden and forsaken? The pain of not-having, or of having-had? The pain it was to be together? Welcome to my glossary of suffering

And what would you trade it for? Is this a question of, what is it worth and I can’t imagine giving it up? Or is it a past-tense question—a way of saying, I traded that exquisite pain to get what I have now, and I’m not sure what it was for, I’m not sure if it was worth it.

“Every lover’s got a little dagger in their hand”

Tbh someone smarter than me will have more to say about this, I am sure. Tarot and betrayal and the way love has thorns and anything worth having always hurts, everyone you trust with love will hurt you and let you down at least a little bit, imperfections and prices paid. But it’s also a very classic, very catchy and poetically deep sounding chorus of the type FOB loves to use and do not always hold a deep reading. 

“I saw you in a bright clear field, hurricane heat in my head.”

More field-of-dreams invocation and playfulness! If there is not a stadium show at that field, I am going to light something on fire, it is the only pilgrimage I care about from this day forward.

“Inscribed like stone and faded by the rain: Give up what you love before it does you in”

LITERALLY what can I even SAY about this and the past tense and the DECISION, the question popped by MANIA that was answered only by global cataclysm and forced separation, the way they began work on this album in early 2021 (per Joe’s book). I can only hear this in conversation with the tracks on that record.

“The kind of pain you feel to get good in the end”

I was all prepared to do some read about morality and queerness and what you give up for the people you love, until @carbonbased000 said, “I love the pain line and I want to give it a kinky read so badly but we both know it’s about tennis”, and you know what. She’s right.

To summarize: there’s a lot to say, there’s a lot to feel, I love this song immensely and I hope you do too. I hope to explode more thoughts soon and uhhh maybe write another fairy tale. TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, EVERYONE!

[thanamoriarty]

Let’s face it - the moment I showed him my favorite live performance of my favorite song and his response was sorta “meh. THIS is what all the fuzz was about?” I knew I should have left (actually, kicked him out, because we were at my house). But it’s ok that I didn’t. I thought “Ok, so we don’t always see eye to eye”. Except “seeing eye to eye” was the exception. It was never the rule. Unless I would compromise.

He always went out of his way to belittle me. To make me think I didn’t know enough about music - the one thing I’ve loved all my life. From “uh this band you like is just AWFUL”, “no way you’re choosing the playlist” to laughing at my face for calling an instrumental outro a solo and leaving me drunk alone without a phone in the middle of the night to go babysit his grown up drunk friend, or making me wait for hours at a random bar completely alone because he was drinking with his buddies (and then showing up to our date with said buddies), the red flags were so much that if I’d collected them, I could have built my own golf course. ⛳️

And I still didn’t leave, because at the end of the day, he always acted like he needed me. Or his bff (who used to be in love with him) would write me a “secret letter” and slip it inside my pocket, written “I think he really likes you. He’s just bad at showing it. Don’t give up on him”.

We both loved metal. I guess that and alcohol were the only things that we had in common. He was obsessed with Pantera, so of course I had to pretend to like Pantera, how am I a fan of metal if don’t like Pantera, right? I really tried liking Pantera.

I hate Pantera.

Maybe someday I’ll like Pantera. It is most likely than me ever liking him again.

Because today I have friends that don’t think I’m basic because I love Metallica and they’re “practically mainstream”, or because Arctic Monkeys is on my top 5 favorite bands. I don’t have to prove I’m a sexy metalhead because I touched myself for the first time in my life to Rammstein’s “Pu**y” music video. I don’t have to lie about not liking pop or pop punk.

I’ve learned I don’t have to be a fucking stereotype just because you were one. I don’t need to cut out parts of my personality to make myself “worthy” of you. If anything, I realize now I was too much for you. I’m chimerical, whimsical, creative, funny. I am a multitude of personalities inhabiting a single body. I feel like for the first time in my life, I know my worth. And it’s not in the backseat of your reckless drunk buddy’s car. It never was.

Gotta thank you for the guitar model recommendation when I started playing though. It was really on point.

Oh, that day you left me waiting for hours at a weird bar? I met a guy there. Told him I was with someone, and he waited with me until you arrived. There was a jukebox there and we bonded over The Doors. Up until very recently he was still after me. We went on one date, but I immediately realized he was just as emotionally unavailable as you (for different reasons) — he just happened to be a lot nicer. I’m really done with emotionally unavailable men. There were others after you two. I’m just tired. I don’t like playing games I know I’m gonna lose, not anymore.

You did leave a lot of boxers here. I hope you don’t mind I’ve used one of them to paint a wall. I guess underwear is disposable anyway.

Like I was to you, and you were to me.

Strangers to lovers, and strangers again.

(Here’s a song I love, and I love telling people that I love it. You would definitely HATE IT HAHA. But I think this sums up what I felt at the time:

“I don't wanna call it off,

But you don't wanna call it love.

You only wanna be the one that I call ‘baby’”

[fenmere]

An Earthling returns from the Sunspot to talk about it

from the second book of the Tunnel Apparati Diaries, the Sun Also Hatches, by Goreth Ampersand of the Inmara (coming mid October)

“Well. Maybe tell us more about it,” Peter suggested. “What was the Sunspot like?”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling and huffed a breath, tears brimming in my eyes, and went over the events of the previous day in my head. Just visualizing them.

There were two days to pick from, really. One where I had talked to Karen and where I’d watched from the side as Sarah took us through an afternoon with friends and having dinner and writing. And one in which I’d been somewhere else entirely. And they both felt as real, as a part of my life, as each other.

And since Peter had asked about the Sunspot, that came more naturally to the front. Those memories were ever so slightly more vivid and ready to relive.

“I met so many people,” I said. “And not all of them were on the Network or in nanite exobodies.”

“What are nanite exobodies?” Abigail asked.

I held up my left hand, looking at it, and said, “Well, like thi – Ah. Hm.” I let my hand drop into my lap and said, “As you can see, I have a whole new set of reflexes already. Especially when I’m thinking about the Sunspot.” Then I explained, “It’s the same thing as the nanites we destroyed last year, that were in the ground, in the communications probe that we never dug up. Only, the Sunspot is full of them. And people use them to make bodies they can walk around in. Like in, uh, I mean, so many movies.”

“Oh. OK.”

“I had one. I was shown how to make it almost right away, so that I could feel more real,” I told them.  I decided not to derail my first point by saying that I’d been my draconic self. I wanted to, but I also wanted to describe the people. So, I said, “Anyway, not everyone had one of those. There were still living people, in living organic bodies. And they were all different.”

“Neat!”

“No, I mean. Ashwin has explained it, and I think they’ve told you about it, or we have. But I don’t think we’ve really gotten the idea across. Metabang’s book kinda does, but there’s so much it takes for granted, having lived there itself the whole time,” I rambled. “No. This was bigger than a furry convention.”

“Heh,” Peter chuckled.

“At a big furry convention, you’ve got like fifty wolves and fifty dragons, and a smattering of birds, opossums, foxes, and unrecognizable fursuits, and then just a bunch of humans wearing ears. There, on the Sunspot, every person looks like they’re from a different species. Every one of them chimerical. And they’re all just walking around, visiting each other, enjoying their days, and making all sorts of artwork.”

[crystallizedkingdoms]

chimerical

chimerical /kɪˈmɛɹɪkəl/ • adjective Alex takes Rory out on a nice Valentine’s Day date. Rory has some conflicted feelings along the way.

wc: 4,171

you can also read this on ao3 <3

Rory thinks he must be dreaming when he sees Alex in front of his doorway.

The frosty morning sun shines extra bright against Alex’s figure. Its rays catch his red hair and frame his face almost too perfect, and they paint his light brown eyes a softer colour than usual. He hunches awkwardly on himself, hugging his winter coat closer to his body to keep himself warm as the wind blows past him. Rory takes in the sight of him, standing awkwardly in his pajamas without moving. A rush of that same cold wind slinks into the doorframe and Rory shivers, the only sign of movement between them.

“…Hey, Rory. Are you gonna let me in or do you like watching me freeze to death?” Alex finally asks, his voice more stilted than usual.

Rory snaps himself out of his stunned daze, muttering, “Shit, yeah. Come in and shut the door behind you.” He backs away from the open door and descends the stairs, towards his basement room. He listens as Alex steps into the house, the click of the door behind him, and the subsequent footsteps down the stairs.

“Why are you here?” Rory asks, a little more blunt than he intended. He turns in the middle of his room to look back at Alex, who hasn’t removed his coat like he usually does as soon as he’s out of the stairwell. “It’s so early. I told you not to come here without calling me, you know— you know how my mom gets.”

Alex’s eyebrows furrow in response. He plays with the buttons on the cuff of his coat, doesn’t dare step too far away from the door, and it strikes Rory how anxious he looks. “Look, man, just get ready, won’t you?”

Rory backs up to sit on the dryer, but then he processes Alex’s words. “Get ready? For what?”

“I— come on, do I have to say it out loud?”

Rory raises a brow. “If you want me to know what you’re talking about, uh, yeah?” he says. “You can’t just show up on my doorstep for no reason and tell me I have to get ready for something I have no clue about.”

Alex rubs the back of his neck and looks around, as if anyone other than the two of them could possibly be hearing this conversation. His eyes flicker away each time Rory tries to make eye contact, and his fidgeting increases tenfold. “Okay. I still can’t tell if you’re fucking with me… Ugh, fine! You win,” he sighs. 

“You sound like you’re proposing to me.”

“If this is how you think proposals go, I am seriously scared of any married people you know,” Alex cringes. He shakes his head. “But no, even worse.”

Alex gathers the courage and meets Rory���s eyes. That too-soft glimmer his eyes have this morning seems brighter than ever, and for a moment, Rory bites his lip in fear. He expects the worst. An emergency, maybe? No, he wouldn’t be joking like this, right? Maybe he’s missing something. What’s he forgetting? A birthday, a friend meetup, a…

“Let’s go out together for Valentine’s?” Alex asks.

Rory’s heart stops. “Valen— what?!”

“Yeah. Valentine’s Day. February 14th. Does that ring any bells?”

“Okay, shut up. That’s today?” Rory pushes off the dryer and paces around his room. “Fuck. I forgot, I— How did you remember?” he asks through laboured breaths, his eyes searching Alex’s with a wild frenzy growing in his movements.

Alex falls back to avoiding eye contact. His eyes dart to the side and he continues rubbing the back of his neck, like the motion could wash the awkwardness off of him. “Don’t give it too much thought, all right? Jeez. Just, get dressed, okay?”

Rory throws himself onto his knees by the side of his bed and reaches underneath his bed. He pulls the box of hastily folded clothes out of the crevice, and though he does not turn back to see it himself, he can practically feel the grimace on the face of his boyfriend who actually has drawers. “Where are you taking me? Oh god. Don’t tell me it’s some fancy place in Frankton. I think all my nice stuff is in my dad’s room,” Rory says while rummaging through his clothes.

“Hah! Fancy in Frankton. I wish. Don’t think too much about it, just something nice and warm. It’s snowing out there and the bus ride was hell,” Alex assures. He rubs his trembling hands together to prove a point.

Rory sighs, but starts looking for some warmer clothing, per Alex’s advice. “Nice and warm. Got it. You still haven’t answered, though. Where are we going?”

“Dude, have you ever heard of a surprise?” 

“Actually, no. Enlighten me.”

Alex huffs out through his nose out of annoyance and Rory can’t help himself from smiling. How quick he loses his composure in the face of dumb teasing.

“It is in Frankton, though, right?”

“Okay, yes. There. You’ve narrowed it down.”

Rory picks out the warmest clothing he can find and recalls a jacket he has stuffed in the corner next to the door, and he’s set. He takes the clothing into his arms and stumbles back onto his feet. “I’ll change now,” he says, placing everything on the bed in front of him.

“Okay,” Alex nods.

Rory reaches and pulls his pajama shirt off of him. He sighs when he doesn’t hear the door open. “Go stand outside on the stairs, Alex,” he asks. It sounds more like a demand.

Alex rolls his eyes without saying anything. Rory doesn’t need to see it to hold back an annoyed sigh. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t care. Out.”

“Fine, fine! Sorry,” Alex scoffs, but he steps out of the room without any more prodding. As Rory changes out of his sleepwear into his warm clothing, wonders how on earth Alex managed to actually listen to him so easily. Must be Valentine’s causing a change of heart. Good to actually be listened to for a day.

But, no, come on— Rory shakes away that thought. He’s trying, at least. Better than what you’ve done so far, he chastises himself. He bats away his usual snarky comments that live in his head, and he’s almost got them out completely when he throws his jacket on and opens his bedroom doorway. 

Alex is a couple of steps up the stairwell, kicking the wall with the toe of his shoe when he hears the door open. His eyes sweep across Rory’s body as they always do, picking and analyzing every part of what he sees. What does he think about the coat, old and worn yet unimaginably warm, covering his usual striped sweater? What does he make of his frayed gloves, his knitted beanie? Rory tells himself he shouldn’t care. Any fucking comment Alex says to him he can always ignore, just like always. It’s what he’s used to—

“Lookin’ good,” Alex says with a grin. It’s a genuine grin, soft lips looking more gentle than Rory’s ever seen them. And, despite himself, Rory’s heart thunders in his chest the minute he hears those words. Looking… good?

Right. Of course. They’re dating. Why is he surprised? It’s not that rare that Alex compliments him without some kind of tone. Just take it, he thinks. He squeezes past Alex on the steps, moving up towards the exit. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” he mutters. Alex laughs behind him as he follows Rory up to the exit. It’s cute. Yeah, cute is the word for it.

When Rory steps out of his home, the chill does not wait one second to descend upon him. He bites his lip and shivers underneath his layers, and prays it won’t get any worse than this. “It better not be any outdoor activity,” he says, eyeing Alex.

“Really?” Alex asks. His tone is flat and Rory already knows what snark he’s going to throw his way. “You think I’m the one to suggest an outdoor date? As if.”

“This is already kind of crazy for you to do, so maybe you have some other stuff up your sleeve. I don’t know.”

“Crazy?” Alex says that word like he’s been confronted with life’s greatest mystery. He starts walking away from Rory’s house, towards the exit of Wind Town. Rory falls into step right beside him. Their bodies are close, but not too close; their hands don’t quite brush each other’s. “What’s crazy about taking you out?”

Everything.

“It’s just been a while, that’s all. You know what I mean,” Rory mumbles under his breath, which turns to vapour right in front of him.

Alex does not reply. They walk in silence, vapour puffing and dissipating in tandem as they get further and further away from Wind Town. Rory’s unsure what to take from this silence; did he go too far, pointing out that obvious fact? Is he ruining the first good thing they’re doing together already? Fuck, he’s already ruining his own mood, having thoughts like these when they haven’t even made it to the bus stop.

“…I’m sorry about that,” Alex says.

Rory looks at Alex from the corner of his eye.

“Seriously, man, I— I know it shouldn’t have taken this long. But, let’s try to enjoy this? It’s kind of the perfect day to do exactly that.”

Rory looks down at his feet. They crunch perfectly soft snow with every footstep. “Yeah,” he gives in. “Of course. Let’s enjoy this.”

Alex smiles. Rory doesn’t need to look at him to know he is. “Hah, good.”

Their hands almost brush, but they don’t. Yeah. Good.

—

Rory and Alex sit on the bus right next to each other. Alex has lapsed into some passionate rant about difficult books Rory has never read and likely won’t for a few months, but he half-listens, anyway. He watches the world pass by as Frankton gets closer and closer. Their date, wherever it may be, gets closer and closer.

Snow whirls past his vision, and Rory gets so engrossed in watching them that his half-listening falters. All his eyes can focus on is the snowflakes that zip by, or the ones that land and melt on the public transit window. It’s a strange, almost childlike thing to fixate on, but Rory would rather lose his focus on the delicate patterns of snowflakes than dwell on his previous thoughts.

It’s a good activity. He sits there, facing the window, unbothered by the need to make eye contact, or talk much other than the vague ‘uh-huh’ in Alex’s direction at the right moment. It lets him sit in sweet serenity, a calm before whatever storm Alex could have in store for him. A good storm, mind you. Even at his most pessimistic, Rory doesn’t think Alex is that terrible at planning dates.

At some point Rory gets so lost in the simplicity of it all, watching the snow fall and melt in predictable ways, that he doesn’t realize Alex has stopped talking. He doesn’t pay attention when Alex shifts in his seat, nor could he possibly notice how his eyes don’t dart around the bus like they usually do when he goes to make this move. Rory hardly feels something slip into his hand until it suddenly squeezes around his gloved fingers tightly.

Rory’s head whips around when he feels it. His eyes land on the affected hand, and his chest tightens when he sees exactly what he wishes for: Alex holding his hand.

Rory swallows thickly. Alex never makes the first move in public, he recalls. His gaze darts around, trying to see if there was anyone in their vicinity who could witness such an event. And there is. People sit on the bus seats right across from them, and Rory can hear the chatter of people behind and in front of them. There are people who could see them, a public eye that Alex has always shunned them from. So, why all of a sudden…?

Rory’s eyes fall into Alex’s. Eyes as soft as snow meet his, and he gives that awkward half-grin that Rory embarrassingly can’t get enough of. Alex doesn’t speak, so neither does Rory. Instead, they hold each other’s hands tight enough to make them warm, but not enough to bruise. Rory’s gotten too used to that kind of bruise.

The snow no longer interests Rory. He shifts his body away from the window and closer to Alex, closer to Frankton, closer to their date. Rory blushes. Rory waits.

—

“A coffee date?”

They’re standing right outside of the café door when Rory asks that question, disbelief steeped in his voice. Alex scratches at his beard sheepishly (with his free hand— Rory can’t believe that they’re still holding hands) and asks, “What? Too cheesy?”

“Honestly, a little cheesy,” Rory admits. He couldn’t help but stare at the tacky Valentine’s heart decorations strung up on the various windows of Frankton’s shops as they walked here, but this one took the cake for the most tacky. Which, really, it's a café. Probably the most befitting of going all out on the Valentine’s decorations that wasn’t at-home dinner. But when Alex shifts his weight on his feet and stuffs his ungloved hand into his coat pocket, Rory quickly adds, “Not that that’s bad. It’s, uh, really not. I dig it.”

“Oh, thank god,” Alex releases a sigh of relief. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and reaches for the café door. “This place is pretty new, but obviously not very fancy. So, you didn’t have to freak out about the clothes earlier.”

“I didn’t freak out! I had no clue about anything.”

“Yeah, right,” Alex scoffs. He swings open the door and lets Rory’s hand go. He’s opening the door for me, Rory realizes only when he’s halfway through the establishment, anyway. What the fuck?

Rory thinks Alex is going to make some kind of joke about it. A sarcastic jab, a tease, even just a self-acknowledging laugh, anything. But Alex drags them towards a nearby empty table, one that isn’t already occupied by a cutesy couple showing way too much PDA, and has them sit down before Rory can think properly. 

“Coffee. How do you like yours again?” Alex asks before Rory has time to process much else.

“Oh. Uh. Black?”

“Jesus, you have black coffee on a coffee date?”

“Oh, sorry, I don’t exactly know what most people have on coffee dates. On account of never having been asked out on one before.”

“Something sweet, man. We get some free dessert too if that changes anything. Valentine’s special and all that.”

“Fine. Cappuccino or whatever the hell,” Rory waves him off.

Alex rubs his face in exaggerated frustration. “Don’t act like you’re too good to know the coffee names,” he replies.

“Not all of us skipped college classes standing in line and staring at menus instead of doing work at coffee places, Alex.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” he sighs and sits up from his chair. “Christ, you’re good at talking when you want to.”

Rory watches Alex as he bounds up to the counter with their order. He didn’t get the chance to ask Alex what dessert they might have, but he finds that he doesn’t really mind anything. Although Rory hasn’t eaten breakfast yet, his appetite seems to have left at Wind Town. Alex is right, however— something sweet did sound nice to Rory in this gentle moment.

Sitting right next to the café’s windows, Rory’s eyes are brought back to the outside world. The snowfall has picked up slightly, with a stinging wind carrying swirls of snowflakes right off the ground and carrying them to some faraway land where everything is nicer and sweeter and softer. It’s soft, too soft. Rory’s not sure why he thinks about that when he sees snow. He’s not sure why now, of all days, he thinks of softer things.

Was it just Rory, or did the snow seem almost too soft? Did it almost look too perfect? Surely, that must be why he is so focused on it, right? It’s out of place. It’s not how it usually looks, in its dirty, slushy form it usually takes around this time. It’s nice, though. He should like that. Rory likes it, he thinks.

“Hey, you’re staring into space again.”

Rory doesn’t whip his head around this time. He calmly looks at Alex, who sits in front of him again. In front of Rory, there’s his cappuccino, hot and certainly sweeter than Rory usually takes it. In front of Alex is what Rory can only guess as something way sweeter than a cappuccino, given how Alex dumps in his packets of sugar without a care in the world. Right in between their cups of coffee is a plate that holds two small red cupcakes. Red velvet or red-dyed chocolate, Rory can’t tell.

Rory puts only one packet of sugar in the cappuccino he’s given. He stirs his drink, watches the grains of sugar disappear right in front of him, then takes a small sip of it. He sees Alex do the same thing at the exact same thing. It’s sweet, too sweet. Rory expects himself to cringe, but he doesn’t. It’s a little pleasant, really. Rory likes it, he thinks.

“You know, I really like coffee in the winter,” Alex says out of the blue. “It warms me. In that special way. And, um, I’ve been thinking about how I want to share that feeling with you. That’s why I decided to take you here, actually. If you were wondering.”

Rory flashes a small, but distinctly amused smile. He tries not to delight in how such a small facial gesture makes Alex’s light up significantly. “I was wondering, yeah. That’s… really nice. And cute,” he says. Alex blushes and stumbles over his words, blustering about calling him cute or anything, and Rory feels a pinprick of relief that, Thank god, he still acts this way when I call him that.

But then those thoughts come back in an instant. Those insistent, almost cruel thoughts. Why is Alex acting this way? Yes, it’s Valentine’s, that is a fact that is hard to forget as they sit in a heart-riddled café for a date. Yet when Rory looks at the softness in Alex’s eyes, the gentleness in the hands that held his, Rory can’t help but wonder, It’s so much, and so soon.

Rory grips his cup tightly. It’s warm, just like Alex said it was. He feels that warmth slide down his throat with every sip, but it never feels that warm when it finally sits. “Hey, Alex?” Rory pipes up.

Alex blinks, interrupted from… what was he talking about again? “Yeah?” he asks.

“Can we go to your place for breakfast? The coffee and dessert are nice and all, don’t get me wrong. I can stay here for a while. But, you know, I haven’t—”

“Eaten yet. Yeah, fuck, I totally forgot about that. Yes, we can go to my place,” Alex assures, then groans at his own stupidity. “Shit, man. I’m sorry.”

Rory stares at Alex with blank eyes. He leans back in his chair and blinks at him, going over his words. Over and over and over. If Alex notices this shift, he doesn’t mention it. He just goes back to his coffee, and hell, he even takes a bite from his cupcake. It’s soft and it’s sweet. Alex is nice.

Too nice.

“Is this real?”

The question slips out of Rory’s mouth without him thinking. Alex cocks his head to the side in confusion. “What? Is this that good a date?” Alex asks in a joking tone.

“You’re acting really differently. Like, really different,” Rory says.

Alex frowns. It’s so sad-looking, painstakingly crafted to make Rory feel bad about what he’s saying. “I don’t know what you mean,” Alex sighs. He sounds more unsure, anxious even.

“This feels so nice. I feel really happy right now. I feel warm.”

“Are you saying I don’t usually make you feel that way?”

Rory shakes his head way too hard, way too quickly. “No, no. Not like that. I do feel those things. But, um, in a different way. You know what I mean?” 

“I don’t think I do,” Alex says. He’s fidgeting with the small spoon and stirs it in his half-drunk coffee. 

“What I mean is, we do things differently. You’re subtler than this. You’re less openly affectionate. You’re, uh, you’re less nice.”

“Rory, what are you talking about? What is giving you this impress—”

“You’ve apologized to me three times over the course of a morning,” Rory snaps. He spits out the words faster than Alex can react to them or use them to interrupt Rory. “You usually go through weeks without even muttering that word.”

The two of them sit with that for a minute or two. A minute or two that Rory comes to deeply regret. Oh, why did he have to bring it up? Why shatter this one good day that Alex brought him? So what if it was strange, so what if it was different than usual? It is better than their usual, is it not? Did Rory prefer the stilted dinners, the swatting of hands in public, the uniquely cold affection Alex tosses him now and then? 

Rory thinks of breaking the silence. He formulates an apology, how it must be the hunger talking, or the depressive doubts that cloud his mind. Anything Rory can blame other than his own conscious thoughts. It’s Alex, however, who asks, “And if it isn’t real?”

The question catches Rory off guard. “Huh?”

“If this isn’t real, why not enjoy it?”

“I…”

“For the record, I am real,” Alex reassures with an awkward smile. “At least, as much as we can ever think we are. And I’ll be honest, I don’t like what you’re insinuating. Because I am trying— really trying— to be even a little bit better. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Haha, I actually have to try and be a decent boyfriend for one whole day, get out of my comfort zone, and that’s enough for you to think you’re in some other reality or something?”

Rory sucks in a breath. His nerves calm down enough that he sits upright in his seat again. He tries not to think about how Alex talking him down like this has become comforting. Familiar. 

“I want to have a nice Valentine’s Day with you, Rory. I want…” Alex’s eyes flicker to the side, and he sounds a little choked, his voice getting louder, “I want to have a nice relationship with you. As rocky as it started. As rocky as it still is. I want to do better. 

“But even if I wasn’t. Even if this wasn’t real, whatever that means… can’t you just let us enjoy this? Please, Rory?”

Rory hates it when this happens, but Alex is right. He takes another sip of coffee and lets the too-sweet liquid warm his throat and chill his body. He should be enjoying this. “Yeah,” Rory breathes out. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Alex. I don’t know what got over me, I…”

“That doesn’t matter,” Alex says. He lays his hand flat on the table and Rory grabs it without hesitation. Neither of them take that cursory glance around their surroundings to stop themselves. “Seriously. We can talk about all the serious shit another day. Let’s just forget this happened, okay? Pretend it’s all okay.”

Neither of them says it, but Rory knows they’re both thinking it. We’re good at that.

“Sounds good to me,” Rory says. He puts his cup of coffee down on its platter and squeezes Alex’s hand harder. “Sounds… good.”

Alex smiles with soft lips. He stares at Rory with soft eyes. A warmth the coffee can’t give him stirs in his chest, urging him to act, urging him to indulge. What’s a little indulgence?

Rory sits up in his seat. He leans over the café table and he knows exactly how he looks right now and he can’t decide if it makes him sick or giddy. He catches Alex realizing what’s happening, and he expects something awful, something normal. He expects Alex to look around nervously, laugh like it’s some kind of joke, ask him hypocritically, What the fuck are you doing? 

Alex takes the kiss. He takes it, even with how difficult the position makes it. He takes it perfectly, like it was made to be in this reality. Rory pulls away only a few seconds after their lips connect, but it’s enough that his lips already burn with a blooming heat that matches the one in his chest. Rory sits back down like nothing happened, but Alex has a stupid smirk on his face, barely holding back a comment.

“I love you, Rory,” Alex whispers. Too soft, too sweet, too nice.

Rory thinks he must be dreaming.

“I love you too, Alex,” Rory says. Real and imaginary.

He doesn’t care either way.

[wellthebardsdead]

Fools prayer pt7

Part 6 here

———

Nerevar: *steps back into his office with a deep and heavy sigh as he closes the door. His communion with Boethia silent. And Azura too far gone to answer his call* I don’t understand… *rubs his face leaning against the door as he recalls his dream, Mephala strung up within red mountain, her body split open and her heart beating in place of the heart of creation* if she was the one responsible, why was she-

*creak*

Nerevar: *immediately snaps to attention, drawing his lance and casting detect life… but sensing nothing* … gods im tired… *sets his lance down and walks to his desk before pausing as he sees the door to his safe unlocked but not open* huh? *quickly opens it up and sighs with relief to find Vivec’s spear still inside, where Beyte Fyr had placed it… but next to it, a familiar golden mask with three eyes whose mere presence sent shivers down his spine* Wh-what?… *reaches in with a trembling hand, picking it up and staring at it in shock* how did-

“You freed me. From the curse she’d condemned me to.”

Nerevar: *drops the mask and spins around in shock to see… Voryn… alive, his long dark hair tucked behind his, and his skin just as good as the precious metals adorning him, contrasting the red paint decorating it beautifully, exactly how he remembered him… his closest friend* voryn? I- I’m dreaming. I have to be. Or I’ve lost my min- *blinks and shivers as voryn suddenly appears right in front of him, the councillors slender and soft hands sliding up his armoured shoulders to his neck, and slowly creeping up a little further to hold his face lovingly as his lips falter so close to his own* Mephala wanted us dead. She wanted me dead. But now I’m free, we’re free… we can be together… together at last… *leans in closer pressing his lips to the other chimers, his skin cold against nerevars, his touch cold, his body cold… no pulse. No heart.*

Nerevar: *closes his eyes and moans softly into the kiss, wanting for a moment to give in and reach out to take hold of him, but ultimately deciding to not feed into his dreams as he opens his eyes and stifles a scream seeing Voryns skin now grey, and three red eyes, locked onto his* WHAT IN-

???: neht?

Nerevar: *jolts awake to find himself at his desk, his neck and back aching as he lifts his head from the scattered parchment he’d fallen asleep reading* Ah- wh-what? I- huh- *freezes seeing a familiar figure standing at his door, Vivec* Vehk, what are you doing up? You need to be-

Vivec: *walks quietly from the door, past his desk and to the safe, before bending down before it and picking up the mask of dagoth ur* …Mephala… didn’t lie to me completely then… *looks to him with fear lingering behind his eyes* Dagoth Ur was never the true threat… it was Voryn. *sets it down on his desk and shakily hugs his robe tighter, the dim glow of the candlelight finally showing the sweat on his brow and the tussled mess his pillow had made of his now short hair* I expect you’re used to him coming to you in your dreams by now?…

Nerevar: he came to you as well?…

Vivec: he… *sighs recalling it* he did… I almost prefer my visits to cold harbour over his presence in my sleep…

Nerevar: he didn’t hurt you did he?… *stands from his desk and picks his cape up from his chair, draping it around Vivec like a blanket as he closes the gap between them*

Vivec: *smiles and hugs it close, his heart feeling a deep warmth that seeps into his soul, that they could return to such friendly, comfortable familiarity so quickly despite all that had happened* no… and I think that’s what scared me so much about it… I opened my eyes and he was at my bedside… he promised I’d be, looked after, when he’d at last he by your side again… so I pushed my way out of the dream and came to find you.

Nerevar: pushed your way out of the dre- *blinks and staggers back, seeing vivec no longer there, and his cape on the floor* … *picks it up and turns to run out the door thinking it was open only to smack face first into it hard* UURGH!!! IM TIRED OF DREAMS BLURRING WITH REALITY I THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH THIS! *fumbles for the knob and finally staggers out into and up the hall, his pace only quickening as he hears Vivec gasping for breath behind the door of his room* Vehk?! Vivec?! *opens it to find Vivec sitting upright in his bed, the guards assigned to his room trying to help him breath while another checks the window and room for any signs of an intruder* I- Vivec?

Vivec: *pale as sheet as he slowly turns his gaze to him, evidently having seen something as his mind entered back into his own when it left nerevars* he actually did it… we… we can’t kill him.

Nerevar: what do you mean he did it?… what do you mean we can’t kill him?…

Vivec: the heart… he bound the good daedra to it with him… mephalas plan. My actions… it was all for nothing. *swallows a lump in his throat* It’s my fault… I should have never turned on her.

[kid-az]

Astral Chain Legion personality Hc’s

I’ve been getting very obsessed with Astral Chain recent, and really want to share my headcanon’s about the five Legion’s, even if only a few people will care. (ALSO HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE AXE LEGION!)

Sword (Stereotypical knight pal.)

-Stereotypical knight/samurai personality, very honorable, likes a fair fight, and heavily dislikes when an opponent or the Mc acts ”dishonorable.“ (Chimera’s by them using elemental attacks, and the player when they use grenades or consumables.)

-Is extremely interested in healing and medicine, specifically because such a thing is completely foreign in the Astral Plane. Can’t heal physical injuries yet, but managed to discover how to heal red matter corruption from individuals.

-Loves tampering with technology, particularly camera’s and other surveillance tech.

-Likes dogs, and wishes the Mc would adopt them as well. Also likes playing ball, especially when nearby people think there‘s a ghost haunting.

-Gets along well with Arm and Axe, but distrusts Beast and outright hates Arrow. Is best friends with the Mc.

Arrow (Little shit)

-In contrast to Sword, Arrow is more of an unscrupulous, pragmatic individual, preferring to keep a distance and use whatever underhanded tactics they need to win. This is why they disobeyed and abandoned Akira, as they did not appreciate their more dutiful, lawful personality. Only connects with the Mc when they see how much of a rebel they are.

-Is extremely competitive, and dislikes when they lose at a shooting contest. Has an intense, one-sided rivalry with Joey Wood, and is very bitter on how they lost so many times to him.

-Loves cats, and often plays with or pets them in Max’s safehouse. Is anlso interested in big cats, and wishes they were still extant. Likes pigeons and crows too, and often silently begs to to Mc to buy seeds to feed them.

-Hates Beast, but is decently cordial with Arm and Axe. Likes pissing Sword off, and doesn’t have the same animosity towards Sword as they do for them. Feels somewhat bad for Akira, especially when they discover they have clones.

Arm (Boisterous gentle giant)

-Gentle giant to living beings. Is very careful when interacting with people or animals, and often wishes they could see them. Likes performing “magic tricks” appreciating the surprise and praise people indirectly give them over such a seemingly impossible thing. Loves every animal, and is interested in learning about them.

-Really physically affectionate to the Mc and their friends, and often hugs them.

-The complete opposite to objects and chimeras. Loves obliterating dumpsters and other metallic objects that crumble, and is very glad to smash/blast any chimera’s they find, often offering to be worn as a suit of armor to do so.

-Is very jovial, and often makes sure that the Mc or other, non-beast legions are okay or relatively uninjured. Is very interested in food and coffee, and tries their best to prepare such things with mixed results. (Though has definitely gotten better at it post-game)

-Likes classical music, and wishes that genre was more common on the ark.

-Is friends with every other legion other than the Beast legion, who they outright hate. Somewhat misses their old owner Jin, and hopes that he isn’t overworking himself.

Beast (Not at all a good boy.)

-A rabid, murderous psycho of a legion. Loves brutally mauling any chimera or human their allowed to outside of other Beast chimera’s, who they actually formed an amicable relationship with (Comparable to a gang leader) before being recaptured. Was the only one that wanted to outright kill their owner.

-Completely hates anyone they deem as “weak,” the only ones not considered that being the Mc and other Beast chimera’s. Outright prejudiced against anything else, especially Shell chimeras, which they are very, very eager in ripping apart. Begrudgingly allows the Mc to ride them out of respect.

-Is very disturbed by dog’s and how much they resemble them and other beast chimeras, often hiding away from them out of fear.

-Really likes music, and often bops to that. Especially likes heavy metal when killing chimera’s.

-Hates the other legions, and that feeling is mutual outside of Axe, who considers Beast to be funny in a demeaning way. Completely hates their former owner Alicia, though to be fair they hate her as much as they do any other human.

Axe/Max (Grumpy but kindhearted dad)

-Has the fused personality of the Axe legion and Max, who the former absorbed out of respect for their bravery and selflessness.. Is upset about no longer being able to eat human food, but doesn’t mind that as he can protect his kids and civilians better.

-Just as much of a gruff but gentle-hearted guy as before, though now has a huge love for battling chimera’s. Is very happy to see his kid is rescuing and taking care of the cat’s, and couldn’t be more proud.

-Axe legion personality before fusing with Max was a mix between Sword and Arrow, being knight-like but also being very pragmatic in their fighting style. Did consider Max to be like a father, and felt bad about killing his human body, and so decided to mix his memories with their’s. 

-Can be very overprotective, and often get’s in the way of enemy attacks to protect his kid. Felt terrible for having to kill Akira, but knew that they wanted them to do that to save humanity from Noah Prime.

-Gets along well with all the other Legions, and acts a mentor-like figure to them. Is good friends with Sword and Arm, makes sure that Beast doesn’t do anything dangerous to themself or others, and has a cordial, business business-like relationship with Arrow, as they help out in range combat. As stated previously, he is very proud and overprotective to Mc and Akira.

[chaserainbows]

✔

Send me ✔ and I will bold my preferences for your muse!

My muse(s): Mindy, Sidney, Anabel

I see the vision for Mindy+Altra interactions because there's the potential for a funny contrast between them since Altra's more serious and responsible while Mindy is of course a terrifying evil scammer but also very cheerful and silly (and also one of them is a terrifying chimeric abomination and it's probably not Mindy), and with Anabel there's the potential for something more serious and plot-driven because she investigates basically the Pokémon equivalent of cryptids and SCP entities so there could be some conflict or drama with Altra not being Quite Human(tm)

the main thing that makes me a little hesitant about anabel is that i don't want to put her in a position where she's like the big bad cackling villain that should get clowned on which isn't something i think you specifically would do but a bitch is vigilant and so she would require a lot more plotting than mindy

Sidney is also an option because I think they could be a fun duo but I'm still cooking about how to include him in the Altraverse in a way that doesn't clash with the tone

Do I know your muse(s):  yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse

I'm a nosy bitch so I definitely like to read about Altra to understand his character and we have some interactions going on with him and Nico so I have a pretty good idea of who he is but of course I would always like to know more about him

altra's an oc but i don't think that's a problem to understand his character, even the canon characters have made up elements when people play them

Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other

Our verses don't really contradict each other so the setting isn't really a big Thing to worry about

AUs could be fun later down the line but especially for first interactions with these characters I think we should hold off on them a little

Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship

Altra's just the kind of character that makes a lot of sense to be meeting people for the first time in threads, I think that adds to his charm

Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protecter - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other 

I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other

Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests!

[trickstarbrave]

i will never turn down the chance to make nerevar sad

based on my idea from yesterday, which was inspired by shamat and riiju-lei from @mulberrycafe. dragonborn reincarnation of voryn dagoth out in the world, though so far it's really nerevar centric........ maybe that will change maybe not. (the db's name will be seryn tho i did actually name him)

--

Nerevar approached the statue of Azura cautiously, anxiety bubbling away in him the moment the ordinators told him the Lady of Twilight was summoning him.

He’d walked so long as Nerevar he became Nerevar in body as well, fully assuming his identity as chimer king once more. “A gift” Azura called it the last time he spoke with her and he held his tongue. 

It was more of a curse as far as he was concerned. 

Was it not enough that he lost everything? Assumed the role of Nerevar to slay Dagoth Ur? Then he was tasked with bringing back worship of the Good Daedra, taking control of the temple, never to return to the life he lived before he was arrested and shipped off to Morrowind. Now he couldn’t even wear this incarnation’s face and his dunmeri skin, all the while he silently mourned all he lost as Nerevar as well. 

He had no friends or spouse after all. Closest thing he had was the wizard Divayth Fyr but well…. Time had warped the Telvanni mage as it does all things. He got harsher, cared less for people around him, more insular as he retreated into his studies. Nerevar didn’t really enjoy his company much anymore given he was only really interested in studying corprus or how his skin changed back to chimeri gold. 

But there was no use complaining about it, especially not to Azura. The dunmer needed him, as she said, and he was the only one who could lead them. All he could hope for was that in a few centuries he could disappear quietly like Vivec did and die in peace. 

“Ah, my champion.” Her voice was loving and overjoyed, as Nerevar found himself cloaked in violet light the moment he blinked, the statue now seemingly coming to life. 

“You summoned me, Lady Azura?” He smiled back, willing the feeling of love to bubble away in his heart rather than despair and anxiety. Hopefully what she tasked him with now would be something simple, or even better--she’d tell him he did enough as leader of the dunmer and could finally leave to die alone somewhere quietly. 

“Indeed,” She began, “It’s important news, one you should hear from me directly.” He waited with baited breath, unable to guess what she needed to tell him. There were too many options after all, and as kind as she could be when she played favorites, she was still a daedric prince one needed to show caution with. 

“The sharmat’s reincarnation walks the earth again.” All of the blood in Nerevar’s veins froze in an instance.

“... What…?” Dagoth Ur was back? But Nerevar cut him off from the heart! Red Mountain erupted, burying the thing in rock once again! 

“He doesn’t yet walk as Dagoth Ur.” Azura clarified. “But he carries with him Voryn Dagoth’s soul, in hope of redemption.” Azura continued, though it still didn’t settle well with Nerevar. 

“You know what must be done.” Azura warned him now, stroking his hair affectionately. Nerevar in turn stared up at her in confusion. 

“What must be done…?” She wasn’t asking him to kill someone just by virtue of being Dagoth Ur’s reincarnation, could she? Of the Three she was mercy, not senseless violence. 

She then smiled even more lovingly, despite all the worry and pain on Nerevar’s face. 

“I know what you must be thinking, and no, I am not asking you to kill him.” Azura stroked his cheek now. “His soul wants redemption, Hortator. See to it he does not fall to the heart’s influence again, and the two of you can make up for the past.” She then kissed his forehead. “This is my gift to you.” 

And then he was in the temple room once more, empty with just a statue looking at him and a heavy feeling in his chest. 

In the days that followed he thought over the conversation he had with Azura, trying to make sense of it with all he knew. Voryn’s reincarnation was alive and walking Nirn just like Nerevar did. Nerevar needed to see to it that he didn’t fall to the heart of Lorkhan’s influence once again and mantled Dagoth Ur to repeat all the strife and disease that the sharmat brought. And make up for the past….

It took several weeks, but Nerevar believed he finally understood what she was saying.

In the past, in his first lifetime, Nerevar was… Well, he was a good king, but not necessarily a good friend or spouse. He was headstrong, pushed until he got what he wanted, determined to a fault. At times he could even be quite cruel and ruthless, as that came with the territory of having to protect your position as king when someone came from as low of a background as he did. He kept secrets, lied, cheated, stole, whatever he could to get the throne.

For most of his life that he knew Voryn Dagoth, he considered Voryn his closest friend. More than that, he considered Voryn the love of his life, though he never had the nerve to pursue him. So many nights they stayed up late drinking, and he told Voryn so many secrets he’d never tell another soul. So many nights he spilled his heart to Voryn, being vulnerable with him, seeking comfort, everything except confessing the full extent of his feelings. 

And Nerevar, fool that he was, thought on some level Voryn felt the same way. Maybe not that he romantically loved Nerevar in return--that was asking for too much--but he thought that, at the very least, Voryn considered him a friend. That the nights they shared secrets, Voryn was being just as vulnerable as Nerevar, confessing things to him and him alone. That when he greeted Nerevar with a warm smile, that spark in his eyes was genuine and true. 

In hindsight that was rather foolish of Nerevar, but if he was anything it was a fool. Voryn was known for being secretive, lying, and manipulative. He cared about his house and his house alone. Why would Nerevar be an exception? The only difference Nerevar had from anyone else was that he was easier for Voryn to manipulate; all he had to do was act the part of a kind and loyal friend and Nerevar would unthinkingly spill all of his secrets and hopes and dreams. He helped Nerevar become king because it was advantageous for House Dagoth and nothing more. Only his ‘friendship’ with Nerevar got him more than he bargained for. 

At times, Nerevar had to make deals and negotiations that weren’t advantageous to House Dagoth, because as king he couldn’t play favorites. Voryn had assured him there were no hard feelings, but resentment continued to bubble away inside him as he was giving more than he was getting out of their friendship. Then Voryn’s brother, Gilvoth, threatened Nerevar at a party and Nerevar had to make a big show out of it to keep his power. He had to threaten him and Voryn. He had to seriously contemplate what sort of punishment to give the older mer, if he should cut off Gilvoth’s hands and fine House Dagoth. Nerevar didn’t want to necessarily; Gilvoth had only threatened him because he believed Nerevar was taking advantage of Voryn and said as much, and as angry as it made Nerevar he couldn’t shake that what Gilvoth said was true. Voryn, however, assured Nerevar he was loyal to Nerevar and Nerevar alone and nothing the other could do could possibly be taking advantage of him. It was likely just a ploy to get him to go easy on his brother, but it worked. He let Gilvoth off with an exile of a few years, purposefully not looking into it afterwards to see if House Dagoth was secretly helping him out or not when he should have been suffering alone and fighting to survive. 

And when they found the heart, all the lies were exposed. Voryn betrayed him, using the tools when Nerevar warned him not to. He was at least semi-lucid, no matter how mad with power he had become.  And Nerevar, idiot that he was, thought that confessing his love for Voryn might bring him back. Might convince him to put the tools down and return to his side. That Nerevar had no intention of leaving him to rot, but that he trusted Voryn with the tools more than anyone because he trusted his heart with the other just the same. 

And Voryn, no longer needing to use kind words and play along with Nerevar’s foolish selfishness, laughed loudly. 

“You love me?” Voryn nearly choked on his laughter. “I’m surprised a man like you even thinks himself capable of love!” Nerevar’s heart stopped hearing that, crumbling in on itself as he felt cold and hollow despite the heat of the heart chamber around him. “As if I ever wanted your heart. As if I ever wanted that disgusting thing you call ‘love’.” Another sharp pain went through Nerevar’s chest like he was being stabbed. “Did you think of me as a lovesick fool? Did you believe I would rush to your side and beg for forgiveness if you offered me your heart?” Guilt hit him next as he tried in vain to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“You are the fool here, Nerevar. A stupid, almost pitiful fool. As though using me for centuries and then leaving me here to rot wasn’t enough, you genuinely thought I would want the disgusting affection you offer me?” Nerevar opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out beyond a broken sob at the cutting words. “The only thing you can offer me of value here is your death.” 

Again, hindsight made it clear just how stupid of a decision it was to make. Why would offering his heart to Voryn make any difference? Voryn ‘betrayed’ Nerevar only because he was tired of being used and abused by him. Tired of playing along with his foolish plans and suffering the consequences. Even though using the heart was a fatal mistake that would eventually warp him into the monster known as Dagoth Ur, he had initially done it to protect his house. A house that fell alongside Voryn, scattered from persecution and having to give up their identity just to escape with their lives. In honor of Voryn he tried to spread the history of the sixth house so they could be mourned properly, but descendants were slow to come forward, terrified of the bigotry and violence they would face. 

Azura told him of this reincarnation for a reason. Nerevar can’t truly undo all the harm he caused Voryn in the past, but he might be able to make right by him this time around. He could ensure he didn’t fall to the temptation of the heart all over again. And he could make sure Voryn was safe and well protected this time around without selfishly shoving his feelings onto him like he did in the past. Nerevar was doomed to his fate, but Voryn didn’t have to be. 

Nerevar could make things right. He will make things right. 

He had to. 

--

“Are you certain it will work?” Nerevar questioned, holding the mask of Dagoth Ur once more. Powerful magic was cast on it, various seals stuck to it to keep the influence contained.

“Yes yes,” Divayth Fyr rolled his eyes, “I am positive.” He scoffed at the very notion it would fail. “More certain than even the potion I gave you could resolve your little corprus problem.” Nerevar’s eyebrow twitched at that, but he held his tongue. “I’ve done so much work with corprus I understand Dagoth Ur’s magical essence very well. The ritual will banish him and free any incarnation from the heart’s influence.” 

He had been working on this frankly monumental task with Divayth for several years now, and it was a relief it was finally done. He resisted the urge to run his hands across the golden mask that looked so much like Voryn’s face, trying to bury the romantic feelings deep into the pit of oblivion that had made its home in his heart. 

“Though I must warn you,” Divayth began with a sigh, “Given how long Voryn’s soul has been warped by the heart and taken in by Dagoth Ur, it will likely banish him as well.”

“What do you mean by that?” Nerevar question with a raised eyebrow. “You said the incarnation would be safe.”

“The reincarnation will be safe, yes.” Divayth clarified. “He will continue living on as whatever identity and life he made himself out to be.” He looked away briefly, not meeting Nerevar’s eyes. “But all of Voryn’s memories will likely be banished with Dagoth Ur’s influence all the same.” A heavy feeling settled in Nerevar’s stomach, as his grip on the mask tightened. “The man you knew as Voryn Dagoth will be gone with Dagoth Ur.”

“... That’s… Probably for the best.” Nerevar admitted with a sigh, tucking the mask away into his bag. 

“Hortator,” Divayth began, but Nerevar interrupted him.

“My goal was to ensure Dagoth Ur doesn’t return.” He continued. “Making sure corprus doesn’t spread anymore takes top priority, as I’m sure you understand.” The mage’s mouth formed a firm, straight line. “And if the price is just the reincarnation’s past life memories… Well, that is relatively cheap, all things considered.” 

“But Voryn was your good friend.”

“Was.” Nerevar clarified. “Voryn Dagoth has been dead for thousands of years.” It was the truth, however much it hurt him. “Voryn deserves a peaceful rest. All of the bad memories will fade, and the incarnation won’t even need to mourn losing any good ones. He’ll be free of the past, able to start with a clean slate.” 

Gods know Nerevar wished he had been given that chance. That he didn’t have to become Nerevar entirely. What could the dunmer Nerevarine have accomplished if he was free? Able to travel and see the world? Able to leave the past that was haunting him behind him? 

“... At least promise me this will be a last resort for you.” 

“But Dagoth Ur--”

“Azura said the incarnation didn’t walk as Dagoth Ur yet, didn’t she?” Divayth countered. “The ritual might be very painful and difficult for him. It will force him to confront Dagoth Ur, and even though it will give him the tools needed to push him away, it will still hurt him.” Nerevar couldn’t argue with that logic. As much as he wanted to free the reincarnation, he didn’t want to hurt him either. “Only use it if you must.” 

“... Fine.” Nerevar sighed, turning to leave with a levitation potion in hand. “Only as a last resort.”

[reflection-s-of-stars]

The Least I Can Do

It is the birthday of @falst aka Scar aka Magnus aka a lovely person and great mutual so here is a fic! It’s set after the current arc finishes, and it’s just a little Alinua + Falst convo! I haven’t done one of these in a while so just bear with me <3

Being healed felt nice. Really nice.

This might’ve seemed obvious to anyone else, but it was new for Falst. He was rapidly realizing he’d never been properly healed before- lacrimal life magic was the closest, but it had felt strange, old and dry and vaguely disapproving. But Alinua’s healing magic felt fantastically sweet and new. The little tendrils of magic reaching into his wounds weren’t sucking Falst dry like before. They felt like being hugged, like being washed down with warm water.

Not that he needed it, of course. Alinua was just doing him a favor, like she always did after her friends got hurt.

“It’s the least I can do,” she kept saying. She liked repeating things, as if saying them over and over made them truer. That was also nice, though Falst couldn’t pinpoint exactly how.

She also liked to ask questions. That was less lovely, but he played along.

“What were the catacombs like?” “Dark.”

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” “Not really.”

“What else do you wanna talk about?” “Dunno.”

Maybe he wasn’t playing along that well, but he was hurt. She could bear with him for a minute.

The sun was rising. The sky was beautiful this time of day. Alinua seemed to agree: the little life-tendrils were going a bit slower, and her eyes were wide, staring just above Falst’s head.

“They’re nice, right?” he offered as a conversation topic.

“Yeah,” she almost whispered. “I always like looking at them through the trees.”

“Not much else to do when you live in the woods.”

“I get that,” she laughed.

He cocked his head. “You lived in the woods?”

Alinua nodded, returning to the scratches on his arm. “Didn’t Erin tell you?”

“Oh yeah,” he offered, rather uselessly. Falst vaguely recalled the explanation given by Erin for Alinua’s weird abilities, but the technical terms eluded him, so he’d forgotten most of it. It had something to do with the Chimeric Plague, but the last he’d heard of that involved its sufferers barely making it to five years old, so who knew.

“How long were you…” he struggled for a word- “in there?”

“Living the green life?”

Falst snorted. “That’s a hell of a way to put it.”

“I like it,” Alinua giggled. “Ten years, by the way. What about you?”

He paused, counting on what few fingers he could use.

“Twelve,” he said, then thought better of it: “Twelve-ish. Maybe thirteen.”

“You win.”

“I guess.”

The sky was yellow by now. No, it was gold- not gold like Tess’s skin or like Kendal’s hair, but gold like Falst’s eyes. Gold like the cat’s eyes he got from his father.

Thirteen years.

“What day is it?”

It was Alinua’s turn to frown and count. “Fifteenth day of the eighth Sindahlan, why?”

“I think it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Alinua didn’t say anything. She broke her magic from his arm. The absence felt slimy and cool, like touching a slug, but not unpleasant like Falst had anticipated.

The mage turned away from him. Her hair shook as she worked on something he couldn’t see. It was a little bit green and a little bit pink, a little bit glowy and a little bit sweet-smelling. When Alinua turned back around, she held a big red fruit in her hand.

“Happy birthday,” she said. “I couldn’t exactly wrap it, but I hope you like it.”

Falst didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t gotten a birthday gift in… well, in thirteen years. He took it from her hand. It was hard enough that his claws didn’t dig into the shell unless he applied pressure.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least-”

“Yeah, I get it,” he interrupted, but he couldn’t hide a smile. “It’s the least you could do.”

“Do I really say it that often?”

“Yep.”