#narrator: he did in fact lose control

[captsharonstark]

“I’m not going to lose…

“…control.”

[ckret2]

I've seen some folks saying that the reference to The Great Gatsby in TBOB was just a joke Alex didn't put deeper meaning into—which might be true, IDK the man's motives for choosing Gatsby specifically—and that there's no way the book has any deeper relevance to Bill's character beyond the eye doctor thing—which is totally wrong. Whether or not Alex intended parallels, there ARE parallels. So, for those of you who didn't read or didn't pay attention to The Great Gatsby:

the book's about a guy who started out as an unimportant loser with starry-eyed dreams, who very quickly gained a lot of power/gold and now presents himself as this dapper fancy well-dressed super important guy.

He constantly throws huge parties, he's got a reputation for being THE party host. But it's a sham, he's pouring all these resources into this party to make himself look so cool but he's living at the very edge of his means.

He lies about his history, lies about how he got his money (spoilers: he's a criminal), lies even in how he presents his personality—he's a con artist, he's always wearing a mask.

The reason he's doing all this—putting on the mask, making himself look so great—is because he's trying to reach across this very thin boundary to a better life he can see, JUST out of reach, so close but something he's never quite clever enough and rich enough and persuasive enough to reach. Every night at his parties he stares at his goal, he can LITERALLY SEE it, he just can't reach it himself.

The best he can do is briefly charm and dazzle someone on the other side of this social boundary, but he can never quite persuade that person to help him cross over; in fact no one on the other side of the boundary thinks he has a right to cross it.

He finds somebody—the guy narrating the book about him—who's very lonely, socially awkward, and disillusioned, whom he can easily awe with his stories and persuade to help him reach his goal, come on please, it'll be harmless! (It is not harmless.)

He loses control over the act he's putting on and over the people who only follow him around as long as he's still got the resources to keep them entertained and loyal.

It ends with him getting murdered by a guy he has LITERALLY never met before—by which point everyone has realized that he's a nobody making it all up as he goes along who was just desperately chasing the illusion of a good life and the admiration of everyone around him.

The narrator ends up disillusioned with him and the whole culture around him of grasping and clawing for a glitzy glamorous life at the expense of the regular people who are manipulated, trampled, and discarded in the process.

Now tell me that Gatsby doesn't have any parallels to Bill's character. And this is just based off reading the book a decade ago—there's probably tons of little details I don't even remember. The book may well have been chosen as a coincidence, it did recently hit the public domain. But if so, it's a VERY GOOD coincidence.

[saltpepperbeard]

OBLIGATORY COMPLETE OFMD SEASON 2 TEASER THOUGHTS AND SPECULATION POST™

Okay, to start off, I cannot BELIEVE we got this. I cannot BELIEVE we got a voiceover of Stede's note to Ed. We were all thinking it. We were all hoping for it. I CANNOT BELIEVE WE LEGITIMATELY GOT TO SEE AND HEAR HIS LOVE RIGHT OFF THE BAT. HE LOVES HIS ED SO SO MUCH.

Followed by this shot right as Stede is narrating. It's difficult to tell, but it seems like Ed??? The one-armed jacket and the fact that it's layered with Stede's narration makes me quite certain it's him. But ALONE??? AND COMING OUT OF THE SURF??? (There's a shot later that has me PARTICULARLY raising eyebrows at this moment. I'm thinking that he fell off the boat/was lost in that one storm shown later, and Stede of course is going to dive in after him or attempt to get to him in some sort of dramatic way. Which makes me think he and Stede are going to potentially talk feelings/reconcile on the beach)

And the fight choreography of this. Are you actually kidding me right now. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. GETTING TO SEE ED ABSOLUTELY KICKING ASS IN COMBAT??? NEVER IN A THOUSAND YEARS DID I EXPECT TO SEE A SHOT LIKE THIS BUT I'M HOLLERING SO HARD OVER IT (NOT TO MENTION, AGAIN, LOOKING AT THIS AND A LATER SHOT..........I'LL SCREAM ABOUT MY THOUGHTS WHEN SAID SHOT APPEARS HSKDLS)

Oh, they're PINING pining. They're YEARNING yearning. They're GAY gay.

They want to be back with each other so so so bad I'm losing my mind <3

"Fuck you, Stede Bonnet." The way he's JUST as dramatic as we were all thinking. The way he's hurting in a way WE ALL ANTICIPATED. LIKE, YOU HATE TO SEE IT, BUT MAN DSJKLDSSDKL. Also, the contrast of him saying that vs Stede's voice over is so so insane. The editors are INSANE FOR THAT ONE.

AGAIN, GOING BONKERS OVER ED'S CHARACTERIZATION BECAUSE HE SEEMS EXACTLY HOW I ANTICIPATED. Outwardly, angry, hardened, and cold. Inwardly, heartbroken, desperate, and wanting nothing more than to be back with Stede. Because hello, HELLO, HE'S NOTCHED WHAT I ASSUME TO BE HIS NUMBER OF DAYS WITHOUT STEDE IN THE WALL??????

HI OLU HELLO OLU MY DEAR DARLING OLU

but also screaming and crying and throwing up because this is ALSO what i was anticipating/hoping for. the crew being like "ummmmm lmao captain?? you really think you've got this under control???"

"You think Blackbeard's going to murder you?" I THINK NOT BECAUSE WHAT IS HE EVEN SHOOTING AT JSLDKS. OFF TO THE SIDE??? A WARNING SHOT????? Also the lighting of this and his look matches the ending shot so I'm very eyes emoji at this entire thing.

HOWEVER...

"MURDERER THRICE OVER?????????????"

Like sorry, that sign won't stop me because I can't read. Look at him. LOOK at him. You're telling me he stole the wedding cake toppers so he could PAINT HIMSELF ON THE BRIDE??? SO HE COULD MAKE HIMSELF INTO THE BEAUTIFUL BRIDE HE WANTS TO BE????? SO THAT HE COULD PLAY PRETEND MARRIAGE BETWEEN HIMSELF AND STEDE???????

INSANE!!!

INSANE FOR THIS!!!!!!

Again, bonkers editing. The split screen. The CONTRAST between Stede's hopefulness and Ed's depression. The WAY THEY LINED IT UP TO MAKE ED LOOK LIKE HE'S TAKING AIM AT STEDE. THE WAY THIS PROBABLY PERFECTLY ENCAPSULATES THEIR CHARACTERIZATION IN THE FIRST FEW EPISODES HSDJKLSDS LIKE BITING THE EDITORS BITING THEM BITING THEM

ALSO ED AND ALL OF HIS GUNS,,, NINE GUNS???????

It kills me because he's probably being exactly what he thinks people see him as. He's probably like "Oh, you want a monster? I'll give you a monster."

WHICH,,,, NO, HONEY. YOU'RE A SWEETHEART, SORRY ABOUT IT.

AND THEN LOOK AT THEM. LOOK AT OUR DARLINGS!!! FANG'S FUCKING SPIKES ARE SO METAL. FRENCHIE'S WOLVERINE COSPLAY SHDJKLSHDLKS. JIM!!! JIM JIM MY BELOVED JIM, AND THEIR PAINTED BEARD. THEIR GENDER!!!!!!!

Honey hsdksjds the drama of it all. THE DRAMA. CRASHING WEDDINGS TO DISRUPT LOVE BECAUSE YOUR OWN WAS DISRUPTED??? SIIIIIIRRRR THE THEATRICS, THE SPICE OF IT ALL

excuse me ma'am that is a gay man shdkjshkls THAT IS A GAY MAN. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING,,,

kiss me instead like wtf

OKAY NOW THIS,,,

THIS.

PRESIDENTIAL ALERT: THE BABYGIRL IS FIGHHHTTTTIIIING

BUT IZZY WATCHING ON??? IZZY????????????

I have Genuine Thoughts™ about this. I have a feeling that the big arc/character development Con mentioned might pertain to him like, REALIZING what's important, and what Ed actually wants and needs. And a good chunk of that will be him realizing the consequences of his actions, and maybe potentially wanting to undo the damage. And also, in his Bitchy Izzy Ways™, he might also get very very tired of Ed's sulking/theatrics and want to rectify things for that reason too.

So I feel like he's going to sort of team up with Stede and show him the ropes for that reason?? So they ALL can work towards betterment???

WHICH IS NUTS LMAO. NEVER EVER EXPECTED THAT.

REGARDLESS, GO STEDE BABY GO!!!

HI REVENGE HELLO REVENGE PLEASE DON'T DO ANYTHING DRASTIC LIKE EXPLODE OR ANYTHING PLEASE BABYGIRL <3

yeah yeah the titties we've all seen them.

BUT AGAIN, AGAIN, STEDE OFF TO THE SIDE. STEDE WATCHING. STEDE LEARNING THE ROPES FROM THE MOST UNEXPECTED PERSON EVER SHDJKSDS LIKE WHAT!!!

AND HEEEEEEERE WE GO. HERE'S THE SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER.

THE SAME BLACK SAND BEACH. FIGHTING THE BRITISH. ED AND STEDE. ED WITHOUT HIS MAKEUP ON. STEDE IN A DIFFERENT OUTFIT.

ARE THEY BOTH,,, FIGHTING TO GET TO EACH OTHER??? FIGHTING THROUGH CROWDS AND ENEMIES TO GET TO EACH OTHER'S SIDES???????

WHAT IF THEY FIGHT TO EACH OTHER AND THEN KISS HUH???

WHAT THEN.

HIIIIIIYYYAAAA JACKIE <33333

ALSO HELLO IS THAT THE SWEDE BEHIND HER???????

EXPLOSIONS FIRE EXPLOSIONS EXPLOSIONS FEELING VERY WEE JOHN CODED RIGHT NOW!!!!!!

AND THIS IS YET ANOTHER SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER,,,

LIKE UHHHHHHHHHHHHH

WITH ED ON THE BEACH, AND THIS SHOT OF SOMEONE FALLING INTO THE WATER,,,,,,

I HAVE A FEELING THAT ED IS GOING TO DO SOMETHING THAT ENDS WITH HIM FALLING OFF THE BOAT. MAYBE HE TRIES TO SAVE SOMEONE???

if he fights to save stede from going overboard or something equivalent i'm going to eat all the tiles off my floor <3

LIKE IT'S BAD BESTIES. IT'S BAD. IT'S DIRE. THE WATER IS SO FUCKING HIGH AND THEY'RE IN A STORM AND JIM IS SCREAMING AND I AM ALSO SCREAMING!!!

But then also, LOOK AT FUCKING WEE JOHN!!! IN DRAG!!! HE'S A FUCKING MERMAID!!! JIM ISN'T A MERMAID???? WELL, THAT'S FINE--WEE JOHN IS!!! LIVING HIS BEST FUCKING LIFE!!!!! AND WHAT IF HE MADE THAT COSTUME HIMSELF SJDKSDJLS <3

AND THE FINAL SHOT I'M CHOOSING, THE FINAL ONE OF THE SET,,, MATCHES UP WITH THAT LIGHTING EARLIER.

WHO ARE WE FIGHTING, ED BABE. WHAT'S THE TEA. WHO ARE YOU CLOBBERING.

IS IT US?

IT'S PROBABLY US.

BECAUSE THIS ENTIRE THING HAS ME SO SO SO DEAD Y'ALL

[meanbossart]

What is it about Astarion that DU Drow fell for? Which traits/habits/quirks/whatever were the ones that he first noticed/piqued his interest?

Oh boy, I mean, at first DU Drow didn't care for Astarion at all. He was extremely on edge around all of these people and Astarion's rather invasive strategy only put him off further - his insight checks may be awful, but he can still tell when someone is trying to suck up to him a little too hard. DU drow thought he was attractive, of course (see.: the narrator's comment about the quote-on-quote pretty corpse) but otherwise didn't think very much of, or very highly of him.

Once he got his confidence back, and after Astarion caught onto the fact that he needed to play hard to get to string him along, there would have been a little while where DU drow only saw him in the context of a trophy or conquest - but admittedly, he also thought Astarion was funny, and he thought he was smart - even someone as dense as him could see that the guy had read him perfectly, and proceeded to adapt as necessary to get what he wanted out of him - and DU drow fell right into it, willingly so. There would have been some mutual respect there between them from understanding each other's games.

Their ritual of letting Astarion bite him definitely planted a little seed of something too. I've talked about it plenty of times so I won't dwell on it, but DU drow enjoys the intimacy implied in allowing someone to hurt him. This was far from an emotional turning point in the relationship, but it did prompt him to start seeing Astarion differently (not better or worse - just differently.)

(I'm a little drunk and went on and on, enjoy LOL)

Then, after one or two intimate encounters, the Urge would have started taking too much of a toll - violent lust turned into lustful violence, and hence DU drow didn't want to have sex anymore out of a fear of losing control during the act; yet, he had learned to trust Astarion by then and would seek out his comfort and companionship all the same. Faced with the situation where sex is no longer an option, I imagine Astarion would have been caught off guard and let the mask slip more often than usual. Pair that with the fact that DU Drow is a surprisingly affectionate (in private) but highly withdrawn person, left him in the role of leading their exchanges. Astarion, I think, would have felt the need to talk; if for no other reason but to fill the air whenever they were alone together. Eventually DU Drow would have started talking back.

These were long nights of just looking up at the sky and going through things that happened that day, what led them here, what the companions are doing, talking shit about whats-his-or-her-name, often just straight up gossip. Astarion eventually realized he could say whatever he damn pleased in front of DU Drow and nothing seemed to phase him, and vice-versa. DU drow enjoyed his bluntness, his earnest impulsivity that matched his own, he laughed at his jokes (as well as some things that weren't meant as jokes) he enjoyed his teasing and his reactions when he said something putrid in return, he liked the way he smelled when he was clean and he liked his stink when he was filthy, he watched him fidget with his own clothes and hair until Astarion gave him a weird look and aggressively asked what he was staring at. He enjoyed when Astarion got angry at something he said, because it felt very genuine - and he didn't use to think of him as a very genuine person.

Astarion was the first to notice something was wrong with him - so DU drow felt comfortable talking about it openly. On the other hand, DU drow never pressed Astarion about his past unprompted - instead just letting him talk about it if he so wished and without trying to milk it for more details when he did choose to do so. Because they spoke a similar language of violence and operated under the same hedonist-based beliefs, it was easy to talk to each other even when there was friction between them - similarly, they were both always willing to move past and quickly "forget" when someone said something truly hurtful.

I don't know if there was a key moment where he realized this had turned into love; that was probably a word DU Drow dropped quite unabashedly sometime after they got to Baldur's Gate, and before they faced-off with Cazador (to no reciprocation or acknowledgment then, not that he minded). But sometime during act 3, DU drow simply assumed that after this was all over they would still stick together.

[fallow-hollow]

Heyo! I came by to ask if it’s possible that you could write a Chilchuck x non binary! Reader who has a stutter and hasn’t gotten any help for it since childhood? Like not being able to say sentences properly without suddenly pausing by accident and having moments where the reader struggles on just one word? It’s mostly because I have irl and I don’t see a lot of books about readers that have a stutter as I think it’s used mostly to be cute or uwu- so maybe Chilchuck could try to help them?

cold reading

ft… chilchuck tims x nonbinary! reader

tags… pre-relationship, pining, reader has a stutter, fluff

word count… 882

notes… hope i did a good job! i had a friend who stutters be my beta reader to make sure i did alright, but further notes are always welcome! also fun fact, a ‘cold read’ is a read through or performance of a script or text with no prior practice, so i thought it would make a cute title !!

This may have been your idea, but you were already starting to have some second thoughts about this plan.

Chilchuck was well aware that you often had some trouble speaking, but it was never something he wanted to intervene on without your permission. The man had his own fair share of experiences being babied by those around him, so the last thing he wanted to do was belittle you by acting as if he knew more about what would help you than you did. So, naturally, reaching out about wanting assistance was up to you.

If there was anyone you trusted to help you with this vice of yours, it was Chilchuck. It wasn’t even that he himself was particularly well spoken or collected — no, it was your trust in him from a personal perspective that made it so easier to confide in him. The two of you had always been pretty good friends, and plus, it was rather nice how he never judged you for things you couldn’t control.

Truth be told, seeking help from someone like Falin likely would have been equally as helpful, but if you had to be honest with yourself, you also just enjoyed spending time with the man. Something about his presence put you at ease, despite the standoffish demeanor he had most of the time.

That’s how you found yourself here, trying to read from a book while he sat patiently beside you.

However, this may have been far less embarrassing for you if the book you borrowed for this little practice session wasn’t one of Marcille’s romance novels.

“She tr- trekked across th- across the muddy dirt path, her, her boots… boots covered in…..” Even when reading completely inoffensive narration, you still tripped up on certain consonants and found yourself repeating certain words. Sometimes, you’d even lose your place or space out, and end up unconsciously repeating the end of a word when you ‘picked up where you left off’, so to speak.

Chilchuck stayed silent, of course, not wanting to be rude by calling you out or correcting you in the middle of your sentences, but the long periods of yourself speaking and nothing else did make you feel rather awkward at times. After you sighed and shook your head, signifying that you had given up, he allowed himself to speak.

“Maybe try reading some dialogue instead. It could feel more natural if it’s something you could say to an actual person instead of just narration.” At his suggestion, you nodded, letting your eyes scan the page to the closest piece of dialogue you could find.

…Ah.

Well, it wasn’t that embarrassing. Compared to the other things one might find in a novel like this, it was really rather tame. Yes, you could make this work.

When you glanced up, the half-foot was still meeting your gaze, looking as if he had something to say. You murmured a quick “Yes?”, to which he responded promptly.

“You’ve mostly been looking at the text while you’ve been talking.” One hand gestured briefly to the book you were holding. “I dunno if this is the case, but focusing too hard on the written words could trip you up.”

The statement did ring true, at least somewhat. You’d been very fixated on matching the written words to the pronunciations in your head so as to not mess them up, but maybe that was contributing to this unnatural sort of feeling you’d had while you were reading. Talking to Chilchuck certainly did help you calm down most of the time, so maybe you’d feel more relaxed if you tried that instead.

He didn’t directly tell you to, but you chose to look at Chilchuck’s face while you talked. After reading the words and trying to internalize them the best you could, looking at him was almost a way to relax your eyes. Without focusing on a particular point or feature, you let yourself just… take him in. Register that this was the person you were speaking to. Allow the words to be fully and wholly directed at him.

In hindsight, the method may have been a bit too effective, judging from how the sentence came out almost immediately and with great fervor,

“You have no idea the lengths I’d go to just to see you!”

Hey, why did the man across from you look ever so slightly pink…?

Oh.

“Oh no, no I’m so- s-so sorry! Sorry!” Your hands shot up in an apologetic yet defensive behavior, which seemed to ease Chilchuck’s nerves, judging by the small laugh he let out.

With a wave of his own hand, he responded, “You don’t need to be. Just surprised you’d get so bold all of a sudden.” He then shot you a wink and a point, something that threatened to make you melt entirely. So easily could he touch your heart, yet at the same time it was hard to falter when he smiled at you like that.

“Did a good job on that one, though. Sounded great!”

Either way, if you can one day manage to speak your true feelings to him, then maybe you’ll be able to say all the other things you want to as well.

“Tha…thank you, your help, it, um… it really means a lot.”

[casurlaub]

Remus Lupin doesn't have visible scars

In the books Remus doesn't have any visible scars that we know of (don't talk to me about the movies). It's safe to assume that Greyback's bite/attack left a scar because Greyback scarred Bill without even having transformed, but we never see Remus's bite scar. Remus himself tells us that werewolf wounds are cursed and that he bit and scratched himself. But there's nothing to suggest Remus has scars on parts of his body usually visible to the public, let alone is covered in them.

In fact, it's far more likely that he doesn't have any visible scars, or if he did, that they were very inconspicuous.

Because - although Harry can be oblivious at times - Harry notices a great deal about his appearance. Forgive me for not using the exact quotes here, but:

Harry notices that Remus looks quite young, notices his hair color (light brown), but also that it's already flecked with grey, he notices the state of his robes, he notices his pallid skin (more than once), he notices how he looks as if he had a few square meals, he notices how he looks ill again, how his robes hang loosely from his shoulders, he notices his facial expressions in great detail (e.g. shaken and pleased), he notices throughout the years how his hair becomes greyer, and his robes more patched and shabby. But he never mentions facial scars or scarred hands. And when he calls Remus to him in the Forbidden Forest, Remus - in death - looks younger and his hair is thicker and darker, but Harry doesn't notice any sudden absence of scars.

So, it's one of two things... Either Remus cast glamour charms on himself regularly (but why wasn't his corpse covered in scars then?)... or he simply didn't have any scars in places that would be visible when wearing normal clothing. Considering Harry's astute observation (that sounds sarcastic, but for once I'm not), the latter is far more likely. After all, he notices Moody's scars right away.

Why does this matter, you ask? Let the man have scars! It adds to his tragedy! Well, I disagree.

It matters because it shows that the whole idea of him (werewolves) being dirty, contaminated, stained is linked to his very being. Nothing he does can change a thing about it, it is linked to him because he is a werewolf, not because he looks or acts like a werewolf or any certain kind of way. His 'dirtiness' isn't something that you can see from the outside, it isn't slammed into your face by his looks, meaning his appearance cannot be used as proof to justify prejudice against werewolves along the lines of 'oh, see, of course the violent werewolf is slashing himself'. It matters because it shows just how deep the stigma carries (not that discriminating against people who are considered physically unattractive is okay by any means - it's not!). People are appalled by him even though there's no visible proof of his alleged unhinged nature, they simply assume once they know because that's how werewolves are, right, and don't even give him a chance. Well, the thing is, Remus serves as proof that it - unhinged and feral - is not how werewolves are. In fact, the author made a great effort to make Remus as un-werewolf-y as possible. Yes, he's poor, his clothes are in a bad state, but that's due to the circumstances; he didn't discard basic hygiene and surrender to his wolfish nature like Greyback. He's not only fighting for the side that continues to oppress him (and ffs, he's even identifying with it!), dying a martyr for them, he's constantly narrated as talking 'mildly', 'softly', 'pleasantly', and 'quietly'. Yes, Remus isn't always nice and he's not naive; he's a real warrior. But covering him in scars takes away from that alleged contradiction, it takes away from how meaningful it is when he at times loses his precious self-control, because it is already putting him closer to the feral, unhinged being he is in society's eyes.

Also, the absence of visible scars puts much more weight onto Remus's character. He is mild and pleasant and quiet although he doesn't really have to be. There's nothing on the outside he has to make up for. He's not physically intimidating, there's nothing feral about him, nothing to give away his werewolf status at first glance. And he still does it because it's just so important to him not to be seen as the usual werewolf. That must never happen. If he had visible scars he would have much more reason to adjust his behavior. So, him doing it nonetheless hits harder, because it shows us, how much he himself really identifies with being a werewolf. He's not primarily acting like that because the expectation of others he wants to prove wrong, but because he himself sees it a necessity even before others can have any expectations of him. It puts a different weight onto his avoidant behavior and his self-loathing. Because he is shunning himself in anticipation of being shunned. It's not his appearance that takes the decision away from him. It really shows how deep his self-loathing runs, how deep the mere knowledge of being a werewolf, not looking like one, not acting like one defines him. And I think that's part of the point of his condition - his own view of himself and the view of others, both looking at him through the lens of 'werewolf' first and foremost although there's no real evidence to suggest he's different from other people - at least not in a sense that should matter to others.

Moreover, his scars might - would probably - serve as a reminder of how awful his transformations truly were. Without them, it - the pain - becomes invisible to a degree. Which is part of the tragedy. It is so easy to forget an illness you cannot relate to when it's invisible. And by forget I don't mean really forget, but forgetting what it truly meant for him. No matter your compassion - a reality that isn't yours might slip your mind unless it is constantly brought to your mind. But with a lack of scars it isn't.

Focusing on the scars as much as we do also seems to drag the focus away from one aspect of lycanthropy that is canon - him being weary, exhausted, drained of energy. He's constantly pale, pallid, looks as if he hasn't eaten enough, he sleeps through the train ride to Hogwarts in PoA despite the Sneakoscope going off, the trolley witch, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle visiting, Ron knocking things over. Don't get me wrong, it's possible to show them both hand in hand - scars and exhaustion - (and I've seen it done well), but more often than not his scars/physical wounds take over the main focus. Suddenly the focus shifts to something that is cooler, more sexy instead of showing how unsexy a chronic illness feels. What should be a reminder of his suffering is used to glamorize his condition, hung as a medal of bravery around his neck, is at worst misused to serve for some sexy scar tending while other aspects of his lycanthropy are tossed out of the window. Because tiredness, exhaustion, queasiness, soreness, pain, patience running low and nerves stretched thin because of all that and feeling like a burden to those around you all the while pretending to be fine for fear of actually being a burden just aren't sexy. So... just no.

Sympathy is all good and well, but don't use his scars as an excuse to turn his condition into something cool.

[thefirstknife]

I love how they’re expanding on the fact that osiris finding out saint was dead and seeing his body, and then seeing it over and over again, failing to save him the first time around was clearly pretty traumatic and great now I’m crying

Yeah. Yeah. I'm absolutely okay with this. (epic lie)

It's mostly because we've seen some stuff about this briefly before, but it's different when you actually get to hear him saying it. And saying it directly to Saint. Because until now, Osiris really did not want to burden Saint with this trauma.

Osiris should never have gone to see his dead body in the first place, but he did and then he had a bad time when he was searching for a way to save him because he kept seeing upsetting stuff over and over. Genuinely what the hell.

Stuff he told us directly was mostly like this:

I didn't think it was possible. I had given up. I spent lifetimes looking for Saint. A dozen of my echoes lost their minds before I retired them. Part of me wishes you were there to see it. To feel what I felt when I surrendered.

But then stuff I don't think he really told anyone, not even Sagira (tw: suicide):

*One Echo stays for years against Osiris’s orders. He has never lost control of one before; he didn’t think that was even possible. He and the Echoes are the same. He feels this aberrant copy lose his sense of self. Another few years in, he feels this Echo press the touch of cold metal to his head. * *And then he feels nothing. *

Like. Okay. Sure. He felt this. He felt everything each one of his echoes went through. He felt one of his, essentially, copies just lose itself and then kill itself.

It's one of the reasons he was so reluctant to go there again at the start of the mission. He did not want to see him dead again. It's such a huge trauma. It's also why he struggled to listen to Saint basically narrate his own death.

We're having completely fine and normal feelings about the events of the story in this video game.

[y-rhywbeth2]

I know we sickos all love the tragic memory of Durge killing their parents as a child, but honestly - as a lover of interpreting Durge as a tragic eldricht horror cuckoo/changeling creature - my favourite memory is baby Durge playing tag with the other children in a "time before Bhaal".

They're being gentle with their friends, but the narration explicitly describes them as hunting and compares them to a predator. If Durge pities their child self the narration just goes: "Mayhaps that child was already a murderer." "Oh, sorry, did you think this was a happy memory?" asks the game before it points and laughs at your naivete.

You pair that with the little cuckoo killing their foster parents and it's very much like somebody took in a baby predator. Sure, it hasn't grown into its claws and aggression but then we reach the starting point of puberty and suddenly the once cuddly baby is a danger to everyone around it.

Oh, except that apparently there's a chance that Durge was already killing things as a baby!

We know they were aware of Sceleritas following them around when they were young, occasionally talking to them as he does in the dead family memory - even if he hadn't presented himself yet. Even if he doesn't always speak, did Durge grow up seeing him out of the corner of their eye?

The fun thing about Durge is that we get to make our own character out of the scraps we're given, so all of it is up to us to decide for our own characters/playthroughs.

I interpret Durge as being like the Bhaalspawn we meet in Throne of Bhaal, Gavid, and the 3.5e tieflings - they've always known they were different. Always had dark urges and whispers in their mind, coming from the essence in their blood.

Kids have accidents around them, pets go missing. Maybe they have black outs, maybe they're aware but can't stop (small children aren't exactly masters of impulse control). We know from a later memory that Durge feels self-hatred regarding their urges, so presumably they learnt enough to know this is wrong and feel guilt. Do they still feel pain and nausea if they resist? I'm going to assume for my own take that since they got the Urge back then, they did.

I wonder if their family ever took them to wizards and clerics, trying to find out if their child was cursed?

Then that family dies. Violently. Graphically. Another tragic accident taking place around the twitchy weird kid who sees monsters and hears voices.

If you play paladin then the Oathbreaker Knight tells you that you've broken your oath multiple times, so I assume that these disasters didn't stop happening.

And judging from the fact that they showed uncharacteristic compassion to a homeless person at the peak of their "I'm such an evil bastard villains like Elder Brains and the God of Tyranny are impressed" era, I think that Durge ended up homeless themselves at some point between losing their parents and joining the temple (I'm also pretty sure that's the period of their life the cannibalism memory happened in).

And then they "came of age" (I recall the age of majority being 15 in the Realms at some point, but can't find that anywhere so don't take my word for it) and Sceleritas introduces himself, and it's time for a family history lesson that explains everything and Orin gets a sibling she absolutely never wanted, ever - put that thing back in the ditch it came from, so help me.

[clotpolesonly]

thinking about Declan and the moth again

it HAUNTS ME that the moth is one of the few times that Declan seems to lose his self-awareness completely. like, yeah, he's the ultimate king of repression, but he's usually very conscious of what he's repressing and the fact that he's repressing it. he knows his issues.

he knows that he forces down his emotions in an unhealthy way so that he can be the adult in the room at far too young an age. he knows he can't form healthy relationships because of a lifetime of danger and insecurity. he knows he dehumanized his mother as a means to cope with their batshit family situation. he knows he's competing with his father's ghost for a place in Ronan's life. he knows he resents Matthew for being the primary factor in his parentification and loss of opportunity in life. he knows he loves his father no matter how much he tries to convince himself to hate him. he knows he feels trapped in the life he's leading, doesn't see a way out, and likely wouldn't take it if he did because it would be at the expense of his brothers.

all of these things, Declan acknowledges openly, either to himself in narration or out loud to others. he may delude himself about how well he's coping with his issues, but he has no illusions about what his issues ARE.

except for the fucking moth.

it's such a perfect, on-the-nose symbol that it almost strains credulity for Declan not to acknowledge it as such, and yet not once does he ever look at the moth and feel the way he did about the black string art exhibit that made him recognize how trapped he felt in his life. "how the moth had beaten against the walls for those first few days, until it had learned it could not escape."

the learned helplessness of it - there's no point fighting to get free, just lie down and accept that this is your life. know what you're allowed to do, and have, and be. know what you're not. a creature of his father's making, confined by his father's hand.

and not even something as eye-catching as a butterfly, no, but a quieter subtler moth with eyes like glittering purple-black marbles that will never get to live a life because Niall made it so.

and the symbolic parallel of the display case and the townhouse. the rigid real world structures that Declan himself requested, because they made him feel more secure than being surrounded by dreams, and that his father provided in a well-meaning but ultimately short-sighted attempt to accommodate him. things that Declan only recognizes much later as the cages that they were.

Declan now regrets demanding his dad make the display case by hand, and when he puts himself through Ronan's bad-feeling security system at the end of the series, the memory it hits him with is inheriting the sterile alexandria townhouse that was exactly what he'd claimed to want.

these are symbols of Declan's complicity, in a manner of speaking, in the whole tragic mess that was his upbringing. at some point, quite early on, Declan's oppression became a joint effort, something that he participated in (because a complete lack of control in the situation would have felt worse). it reminds me of Declan struggling to remember which of them first decided to lie to Matthew about what he was, whether that was his dad's idea or if he'd done that of his own volition, just following pattern.

did dad trap him, or did he build the walls himself? or was it both?

but, for once, none of this is acknowledged by Declan in the text. this artistically-minded chronic overthinker carries the moth around with him - one of the two dreams he will never sell, alongside the gift from Ronan - and he stays so uncritically sentimental about it that he releases it on his wedding day with happy/nostalgic tears in his eyes, and it just boggles my mind.

this is the man who looked at a bunch of string and had the immediate revelation that he was utterly miserable and trapped in a spiderweb of a life precariously balanced on a knife's edge where one wrong move could get him and everyone he loved killed, but he looks at a direct, uncomplicated, one-to-one representation of himself and somehow does not recognize that it is not something to think of fondly. that, yes, it may be a symbol of his father's love for him, but it's not good.

[shinakazami1]

TSPUD: Symbolism of The Pink Room

@stelar-time asked in Twitter (I refuse to call it X) post about people's headcanons about the Pink Room and I thought I'd share this here, too

CW for some religious mentions

First, I'd like you to look at the dialogues in this part.

The fact that it's the fourth figurine is not a coincidence.

The Pink Room seems to serve as a symbol of nostalgia and of how memories can change with time. They tend to be rough and down the pipe you go, they do tend to lose details or get some added parts in, for your brain to make sense of them. That's why this room doesn't come at the first or last Figley and instead in the middle, as those are more often the parts we tend to forget.

What is interesting, though, is how Narrator questions it. Because a similar situation occurs somewhere else.

At the end of the Demo, Narrator starts to do a callbacks to the journey you had. However, at some point, he starts to mention and show parts you've never seen before. In contrast to the Pink Room though, there is not a single questioning involved. So, what's so special about that room?

You could say it's only a symbol of a nostalgia and fragility of memory. That he is recalling some moments he felt halky about and due to it, puts rose-tinted glasses which show off in a form of this room. Why hadn't he done the same thing in the Demo, though?

Memory overall seems to have a bigger role in TSPUD.

Narrator overall seems to have memory issues - he tends to remember some of the previous resets (skipping parts of the Freedom run after going through it nth time in a row) and completely forgets others.

That's why he has Memory Zone. He uses it as a photo album, not knowing it's as unreliable as his own callbacks.

But then, I did wonder... Why an apple? Why does this room show it and not anything else, any pink fruit?

And then, I looked at the architecture of the place and it reminded me of something.

Big window, a statue of some sort on a pedestal before it, pointed archs, to ribbed vaulting... It seems to match a typical church architecture. And then, it hit me.

The Apple of Eden. Fruit of the forbidden knowledge. Of somebody being there, someone watching, listening. Of him not having fun control over his creation might have been bit when we were jsut skipping around, only seeing part of his struggle in the Skip Button.

You might be then asking, why doesn't it have a bite mark then?

There are two possibilities I've considered:

1) it could shows Narrator's ignorance that he shows quite often. That could be true since he just tries to accept what had changed, trying to just say 'don't focus on it, it's a silly thing, let's move on'. He brings it up though since he already learnt from the Broom Closet that things untold seem to interest the Player more.

2) It's a memory within a memory. The apple before he bit in. It's the knowledge he beholds and shows us in a non direct way.

Just like the Bucket.

Nostalgia is supposed to give a good vibe but - it doesn't always succeed.

But this room can indirectly show Narrator's progress. The fact he knows more, the fact he can tell his memories get altered, the fact that - he changed.

In ways we misremember.

[vidavalor]

👋 Hello! I love your metas and I was hoping you could help me out with something that still confuses me. All the evidence points to Crowley having had his memories taken by Heaven when he Fell, but why? Falling already punishes him and removes him as a threat, the two things which seem to be the purpose in Gabe's case, so what would the point be?

(Did I send this twice? I'm sorry if I sent it twice.)

Hello! :) Hope you're having a great night. I was making stuffing for Thanksgiving earlier so there are apples and hot apple cider for snacks tonight. (Problematic holiday, I know, but I do like the food.)

TWs for memory loss, trauma, PTSD.

I don't actually think that Crowley lost his memories when he Fell to Hell. Like you pointed out in your question when you referenced what The Metatron tried to do to Gabriel before Gabriel outsmarted them, taking memories from angels as punishment for subversion is a way of trying to keep fascist control. It's an attempt at eliminating threats to the social order of Heaven. (So are things like telling angels that they're superior to humanity and that to indulge in any human desires is beneath them, which serves a purpose of keeping them all from going to Earth and realizing how enjoyable being human is and defecting.) I don't actually see any evidence that memory loss is part of the actual Fall to Hell. If that were the case, then the memories of all the demons we've met should be suspect but the only demon we've actually met whose memory is shown to be unreliable is Crowley. We've gotten to know a half-dozen other demons over two seasons fairly well and none of them have problems remembering their times as angels that we've been shown so far. Add in the fact that S2 shows us that angels can lose their memories without being sent to Hell-- like what The Metatron tried to do to Gabriel, as well as what I think is implied happened to Muriel-- and now we have more evidence that a being can lose their memory in Heaven than we do that they lose it when they're sent to Hell.

That suggests to me that Crowley actually had his memories taken from him-- likely more than once-- while he was an angel, prior to his eventual Fall to Hell. It also makes this line make more sense:

Neil Gaiman has called Crowley "an unreliable narrator" regarding his Fall and that's a clever way of putting it, imo, because Crowley, we've come to learn, is an unreliable narrator about his entire existence pre-Fall, in the sense that he can't really remember it. He is unreliable about his Fall because he can't remember what led to it. He knows he asked a lot of questions but he doesn't remember what they were. His Fall was just what they did after they decided his inquisitiveness was irrepressible. I take the "sauntered vaguely downwards" as hinting that he lost his memories more than once and that he knows it. Crowley knows about his past more than he remembers his past, from what we've seen.

He knows he used to make stars and that he helped create gravity and build the universe. He knows some of the nebulae he made. He knows he knew Aziraphale. Knowing isn't the same as remembering, though. We know from his conversation with Gabriel that he's tried to force himself to remember things before and that it's been a very painful-- and not terribly successful-- process. I'd wager he's nearly discorporated himself more than once trying to remember Aziraphale. Most of what he knows about his past is probably what Aziraphale has told him. The rest is a blur of what he calls "looking at where the furniture isn't"-- bits and pieces without the context needed to understand them. If his memory is a room, then his experience with his memories of Heaven are basically I know that chair but... I don't know where I saw it before, if I've really seen it before, what happened the last time I saw it if I did, where it came from, who else knows about the chair, what room the chair is in, where the room is, what is in the empty spaces between the pieces of furniture, what the purpose of the room is, whether or not the chair is really a threat to me and if I can trust it, why the thought of this chair makes me feel the things I feel about it...

That's terrifying, right? That would be terrifying once and I think the fact that he's referred to as persistently asking questions and that he Fell "in the old days" where asking questions "was all you had to do to become a demon" indicates that he was damned to Hell once there eventually was one but, prior to that, he was punished with his memories taken and probably more than once.

Crowley has known nothing before but for the certainty that if he's just around that one, particular angel with the beautiful eyes that everything will be better.

[swallowerofdharma]

Yashiro’s Cruel God part one

Disclaimer: this post contains a detailed and straightforward analysis of chapter 25. Doumeki isn’t the villain, if you were worried about that. Actually I must apologize because I wanted to talk about him too, but as usual I started this meta with Yashiro and got carried away. This is also why I am dividing it in parts to avoid having a very very long post. So other parts will hopefully follow to fully elaborate the premise I made. Thank you for understanding. And please take care of your wellbeing, if mentioning Yashiro’s stepfather upset you, maybe skip this one.

Premise: not a matter of perfection but of balance

This person I followed reblogged the Declarations of healthy adulthood by David Richo in big big font and - having only one thought on my mind apparently - I read all that text in Yashiro’s POV. I actually don’t think that this is a perfect model or anything, and I am generally skeptical of self help books (I only assume this is something like it), but why not use this as an example, while considering something that I find interesting about Yashiro and Doumeki? During the discussion about the latest chapter, I said something along the lines of Doumeki representing young love, while Yashiro’s approach has been more mature, and I meant it thinking about Yashiro being aware and cautious about hurting others [and being intentional when he does, since he put a bullet in Doumeki’s leg] and being quite self reliant, and yes I know that he is also afraid of being hurt/loved! in previous posts here, I have mentioned that Yashiro’s acceptance of his past is only-in-part denial or downplaying of trauma, because it has been also a strategy and an impressive sign of his maturity and determination to live in the present. Isn’t it exceptional that Yashiro doesn’t seem all that resentful of his parents? That he openly says that he doesn’t blame others? We have to confront his words always mindful of the fact that he usually is an unreliable narrator, but in many instances he says the truth or half truths and his demeanor confirmed that he did some of what David Richo proposes: I accept full responsibility for the shape my life has taken; I accept that I may never feel I am receiving - or have received - all the attention I seek; One by one, I drop every expectation of people and things; I let go of blame, regret, vengeance, and the infantile desire to punish those who hurt or reject me; No one can or needs to bail me out. I am not entitled to be taken care of by anyone or anything, I let go of control without losing control.

I thought that it was very interesting to consider the Yashiro/Doumeki dynamics from different angles, like older/younger, or even realist/romantic, for example. The point of this experiment isn’t to make a comparison of merit nor to talk about a character in better light than another. Maybe those differences need to be confronted or balanced: for example the realist maybe needs some of the romantic’s idealism to soar and not be stuck on the ground. Yoneda-san might be onto something so human and amazing here. An important clarification is due before saying anything else. As characters that are written as full human beings, with their complexity and contradictions, Yashiro and Doumeki can’t be put neatly into the opposite categories I proposed. The story is much more dynamic, so I ask you to take a further step and put those opposites at the ends of a spectrum and to move our characters freely in both directions. Yashiro tends toward being effectively the older and more realistic one but he has traits that make him move down towards the other end too, even to the extreme of being childish. Consider for example these other statements, from the Declarations of healthy adulthood: I need never fear my own truth, powers, fantasies wishes, thoughts, sexuality, dreams, or ghosts; When change and growth scare me, I still choose them. I may act with fear, but never because of it; I am still safe when I cease following the rules my parents (or others) set for me; If people knew me as I really am, they would love me for being human like them. These points clearly demonstrate Yashiro’s unresolved problems, where he is stuck if you want, and why probably nobody believed me when I pointed at him as being mature (eh, he has his moments tho, you can’t deny that).

I challenge everyone to consider that those four points in particular are quite challenging for most people in general, but particularly so for someone who has fear/betrayal as the foundational principle in their childhood instead of a normal amount even a scarse amount of parental love/safety. And I want to underline childhood here, not teenage years or later.

I need never fear my own truth, powers, fantasies wishes, thoughts, sexuality, dreams, or ghosts. Yashiro here is a mix of contradictions, because he outwardly seems to own those things, even making them a point of his persona, but most of those things are based on the lies he told himself, or his stepfather told him: see this other point

I am still safe when I cease following the rules my parents (or others) set for me. Isn’t this statement extremely helpful to understand Yashiro’s situation? To feel safe he had to build his personality according to the rules of the one who had all the power over him and had already taken away any sense of security from him. This is probably one of those things that can be hard to understand when you have never been there. Most notably, not only in the manga this has been pointed out, but it has been pointed out by Yashiro himself. He is self conscious of this, he knows that he lied to himself as a child, that he had to, and he is constantly choosing to continue lying because that is still the only foundation he has. There was no familial love, no other relative safety. Letting go of the lies actually means going to pieces and breaking down.

This isn’t different from what happens to people who are tortured. Yashiro’s father completely took away any sense of security and safety. The aggravating circumstances were that Yashiro as a child didn’t have any other point of reference or knowledge to understand what was happening with his body and in that state of mind what his father told him had to be the only truth possible. Parents who abuse their children most often don’t even realize what they are doing to its full extent. That’s the immense cruelty of these types of situations. The rules are lies, but the lies are rules to follow to be safe:

You like it when it hurts, right? If it doesn’t hurt, I can’t get into it.

What happened in chapter 25: why now?

Yashiro didn’t want to have sex with Doumeki and said so repeatedly. Doumeki has grown on him, behind liking his physical appearance or using him as a substitute for Kageyama: Yashiro truly liked this person and he liked that Doumeki was impotent. Thanks to that, Yashiro grew comfortable around Doumeki and with comfort and safety comes familiarity. When Yashiro discovered that the impotence was gone, he was angry and terrified. They had become too close and now the premise has changed and Yashiro couldn’t trust Doumeki or himself anymore. I won’t analyze here the scene in the shower but I’ll skip to the point. Doumeki only understood that his love was required, that he was wanted and stopped thinking. He acted passionately like any young person who had a normal foundation in love would. He didn’t understand anything that Yashiro asked or why there were mixed signals and what it all meant. He pushed and hurt and broke without being aware of what he was doing.

And Yashiro was trapped in a situation he had tried to escape from his all life: with a person who felt familiar, a person he loved and relied on, in the safety of a home, who wanted sex and was going to do what he wanted regardless of what Yashiro had to say. Yashiro desperately tried to control what was happening through usual patterns, making it hurt, asking Doumeki to do from behind, detaching the sex from his emotions, but he couldn’t and for the first time in his life sex was different from what he knew, because while Yashiro had loved his stepfather, his father didn’t love him and he didn’t treat him like Doumeki did. And every lies built around his father’s abuse came to the surface. Including the fact that his father never loved him. Doumeki broke him indeed because he broke through the lies/rules upon which Yashiro had intentionally built his entire personality/safety. And he wasn’t ready for it, he specifically said he didn’t want it, he had known all along, he already knew when men before Doumeki tried to make love to him and when he built a strategy to specifically avoid being confronted with those lies/rules. He didn’t love those men. He did love Doumeki though. But once again Yashiro didn’t have a choice. And he was physically hurt and recovering after being shot and knowing his life was in danger outside of that room. He had just discovered that Doumeki lied about being impotent the previous time he touched him in the car and before that. It was probably the worst timing possible for making love. At some point Yashiro grew resigned and even reciprocated a little, reaching for Doumeki, caressing his face, and he even reassured him before he fell asleep. There were words that Doumeki said that Yoneda didn’t disclose fully, choosing instead to immediately took us in the flashback with Yashiro. I think it is probable that what Doumeki said was something that Yashiro’s father had said and that we are going to confront before the end of the manga. I personally want to know these words more than what Yashiro said while an airplane passed by and Doumeki was unconscious. Morbid maybe on my part.

I have stated that I am not going to make Doumeki a villain here. The point of this analysis is just to see where Doumeki was in terms of maturity. To be continued…

[n-agiz]

A DISTANT LOVERㅤ boyfriend! nagi seishiro x gn! reader — angst + fluff [ 2.0k+ wc ] cws none ! MDNI

ㅤnagi seishiro was a distant lover, or so he thought.

nagi seishiro was a distant lover.

not because of all the reasons people were always so quick to judge him for, though.

nagi loved you — and contrary to popular belief, his love for you was way stronger than his passion for videogames or soccer or anything else he deemed worthy of his time. you were his first love, one of the few people who saw him for who he truly was and accepted him for it. he knew you didn’t fully understand him, and he couldn’t judge you because he himself didn’t fully get why he was the way he was at times, but the fact that you didn’t leave him for all the things he did but couldn’t explain and instead incentivized him to push forward to try to learn the source of all of it made his heart flutter, that compassion something not many people had shown him so far. he loved you more than he could ever put into words, more than he could understand, more than life itself even — but he was still nagi, the weird kid who got a cactus only because a plant he had to water every so often was enough company for him, and the lonely kid who had spent most of his school years all alone being treated as a weirdo — reo’s arrival in his life the only thing that stopped him from spending all of them that way. he had grown, years had passed since then and if that period could be considered his life’s rock bottom, he was now undeniably at the peak of it, having an established career in the sport he took so much enjoyment from and a partner who loved him to the moon and back — but even with all that, even with all the highs he had accomplished and all the lows he had gotten over, he was still the old nagi in many ways, and what he for a while thought were stupid habits he would eventually get over as he grew and matured, were now things that impacted his life more than ever, and those thoughts hurt him, because he wished it didn’t have to be like that, wished he could be different.

nagi seishiro was a distant lover for many reasons, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t control any of them.

he had a hard time opening up to you about his feelings; nagi loved you, he knew that, and to some degree he was sure you did too, but he was also aware that you didn’t know just how deep his feelings actually ran, and that was entirely his fault. he remembered to tell you ‘i love you’ each time he departed from you in the morning or before drifting to sleep at night, but that wasn’t enough to show just how smitten he was with you because although he always remembered to repeat those three, powerful words, he lacked in what should come after. he was never able to explain why, was never able to look at you and tell you that you made him feel like the luckiest man alive and that he would give everything he had worked so hard for up and even burn the entire world down to ashes if that meant not losing you. he loved you more than he loved himself, loved you more than the sun loved the moon, loved you more than the flowers love the rain — loved you more than anything else in the word, more than words could even begin to describe. his feelings were indescribable because words had yet to be invented for them to be able to be correctly and fully expressed, but he should still be able to try to narrate them to you, and the fact that he couldn’t hurt him. they were overwhelming — in the best way possible, obviously — and nagi could never even chose the words to begin to at least explain that to you, tell you the he loved you but that his love was so great that he wasn’t able to even measure it himself, and because of that, he felt like he lacked, felt like you would never know how he truly felt and would just stick around because you felt bad for him.

unknowing to him though, you understood your boyfriend better than he assumed you were capable of. you didn’t know how deep his love for you ran within him, that part was true, but you knew he treasured and loved you more than anything in his life, and that was more than enough for you, the struggle to express feelings one you understood all too well too, even if nagi didn’t notice it.

beyond that, though, nagi seishiro was also a distant lover because he could never find enough time to be with you; or at least he thought so. for a good chunk of the year, nagi had a packed schedule, his job one that forced him to travel more than he would like and spend more time away from you than he could handle. he missed you all too much, the weeks he had to spend away from you always feeling endless and like a punishment, the pace in which they passed torturous due to how slow it was, and the day he would finally fly back home to you always seeming unreachable. he hated having to be away even if for just a day, hated leaving you alone, hated feeling far away from you, hated being physically distant from you. he hated every part of it, and because of it, at moments where he felt hopeless, he hated his job, wished he could leave it and start doing something else that would allow him to be close to you every day — the only reason he hadn’t done so yet being your insistence on him continuing to pursue it because it would be a waste of all his hard work if he just gave up like that. still, that wasn’t enough to satiate his longing, to make him miss you any less, to make him stop despising his career path. the facetime calls, the texts, even the times you would sometimes travel to meet him — none of that was enough to him because he still felt like he was failing you, making you feel alone, and it was all his fault.

you didn’t see things that way, however, and if you knew nagi did, you would remember to tell him that you didn’t view him like some monster for having a life apart from you and your relationship more often. you missed him, missed him more than you could describe and about that you would never lie, but you also found happiness in seeing your boyfriend go after his dreams, found happiness in seeing him run so freely throughout the big, green field and found happiness in celebrating all his goals and victories with him. you hated that you had to be apart from him for weeks at a time, but the glee and anticipation you felt whenever you met again after that time separated overshadowed it, made it feel worth it, even. him having goals and aspirations only made you love him more, not hate him in any way.

and to finalize it all, nagi seishiro was a distant lover because he wasn’t as affectionate as he should; he wasn’t a touchy person, he enjoyed his personal space and didn’t crave physical touch that often. he still kissed your forehead whenever he came home from practice at night, still cuddled you every time you drifted off to sleep next to each other, and still held your hand when you were out and about together — but somehow, to nagi, that never felt like enough. he should do more, he thought, should touch you more, should kiss you more, should hold you more, should do everything more, but he just couldn’t, and he hated himself for it. other people made it seem so effortless, physical touch something expected from a relationship, something that came naturally along with it, but he couldn’t seem to give you enough of it, always feeling like he lacked in that department like he lacked in so many others. he wondered how others did it, wondered why you didn’t complain about it, wondered why you were settling for less than you could get, and all those thoughts killed him because they made him feel worthless, another reason for him to feel like he wasn’t enough, wasn’t good enough for you. he tried his best, tried to reach out for you more frequently and tried to initiate those displays of affection as often as he could — but sometimes he was unable to do so, sometimes he just wanted to be alone in his own bubble with you sitting a few inches away from him on your own world too, and that made him feel guilty, because what sort of boyfriend thinks of that as good alone time with their partner?

nagi does, and you were alright with it, because any second you could spend with him was time well spent. you enjoyed your nightly cuddle sessions, enjoyed holding his hand when you were out together, and enjoyed each kiss he pressed against your skin when he came home at night more than anything else. you always knew he wasn’t a touchy person, knew he enjoyed keeping his distance from the moment you met him, and that never stopped you from loving him or made you love him any less — if anything, it only made your heart beat faster anytime he leaned towards you because you knew he wasn’t doing it subconsciously, that he was doing it purposefully because he wanted to show you that he loved you, his thought out effort into showing his affection more meaningful than if he did it without thinking twice, you thought.

nagi seishiro was a distant lover for many reasons, and he thought about them so often that he could say them out loud from the top of his head as if they were part of a script he had spent years studying and memorizing — but that was exactly the problem, they were all inside his head, all things he had thought about and assumed you disliked him for so, when with a broken voice and heavy tears cascading down his face he opened up to you about all those demons, about all those thoughts that kept him up at night, about all his weaknesses, you hugged him close, hugged him hard and stronger than you ever held, allowing your boyfriend to open up to you while sniffling and sobbing against your neck as you kissed the top of his head, giving him space to talk at his own pace, letting him get everything off his chest that had been burdening him. you listened and tried to understand, secretly happy that he trusted you enough to confess such things, and by the end of it, when his crying had calmed down and he wasn’t holding you as tightly, already waiting for you to break up with him, you smiled faintly, and you hugged him tighter, and you kissed him one last time before you moved to cup his cheeks instead, making him face you so you could look straight into his eyes as you told him just how much you loved him, and just how much none of those things mattered to you, how you didn’t see him in any way that resembled what he had just described. you didn’t invalidate his feelings like nagi was scared you would, on the contrary, you actually made him feel seen, understood, and above all, loved for who he was in a manner that he had never felt before. you didn’t hate him for all the traits of his persona he thought of as flaws, instead, you loved him for them, and as stupid as that could be, nagi had never thought of that as being a possibility.

nagi seishiro was anything but a distant lover, you two concluded at the end — he was caring, committed, loving in his own way and more than willing to put effort into your relationship, and at the end of the day, that was what actually mattered.

N-AGIZ '22ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[clownsnake]

guys. Astarion wasn’t literally considered a child when he was 30. Among elves he was clearly seen as Of Age to do adult things like drink and live independently and fuck and pay taxes. its just that elves have a stupid extra concept of adulthood that doesn’t MEAN adulthood in a literal sense. has nothing to do with physical or brain development. not even necessarily emotional development, but it kind of is depending on how u interpret it, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

basically elves in the forgotten realms trance instead of sleep (we know this) and until around age 110, during their trances they “dream” of their past lives (I’ve only seen a few ppl who know this, but idk if they also knew it stops at a certain age). They then stop dreaming of their past lives naturally, and it’s generally considered kinda traumatic to go through bc well. you’re losing what has been a fundamental part of yourself for so long.

I interpret that as being like a “shared trauma maturation stage” where instead of elves brains literally becoming more adult, losing the guidance of their past lives feels like more of a final step towards independence to them. and adulthood is just the closest social experience to this stage of being “truly on your own”

around 30-40 they get a “first reflection”, which is when their dreams start having experiences from their current life. (Makes sense for Astarion having a dream about Cazador in origin runs that prompts the biting scene) And then the loss of past life memories at 100-110 is called the drawing of the veil.

Tl;dr Astarion was a young adult by elf standards stop infantilizing him PLEASE

Getting into headcanon land now, feel free to draw your own conclusions from here.

i imagine older elves kind of have a sense of being more “mature” than under-110 elves in the way tht people comparing their trauma tend to do. Like “u think ur so smart and worldly but you haven’t even been through half the shit I’ve been through.” PATRONIZING that’s the word I’m looking for, it’s patronizing. And since every elf goes through this, they just kind of assume that yeah, going through this trauma/emotional loss IS a big step towards being a full adult. so it’s like if the concept of adult had a Pokémon evolution that didn’t involve getting wrinkly and hair loss and going through menopause or erectyle dysfunction. Adult 1.5 steam update.

I have no clue if Astarion would have the drawing of the veil as an undead elf. The fact that he even has dreams shows that being revived as a vampire keeps certain bodily functions running, mainly anything relating to the brain and consciousness, but idk if it would keep him physically at 30 or let his brain change.

Although hold on, in the epilogue where you’re a mind flayer and considering eating Astarions brain, you get narration that’s like “ooohh his brain part that handles senses must be sooo wrinkly” which would only be caused by the shit he went through post-vampirification. Meaning his brain Would be able to change and “mature”. But that’s also just an assumption that mindflayer!tav/durge is making.

k I looked it up. The exact quote is “Astarion’s sweet brain may be a bit less wrinkled than the rest, but you hunger for its teasing cells. His parietal lobe - which controls his sense of touch - will be an aphrodisiac in your maw.” Hilarious, he canonically gets called smooth brain. Anyway if u kill him I don’t think you get to eat his brain, withers just banishes you asap lmao. So we don’t actually know if his parietal lobe changed over his un-life! I’d wager it did though, based on his “don’t touch me” selection line (and probably some other lines hinting towards over-sensitivity tht im forgetting). And change caused by external trauma vs change caused by aging is different anyway.

no conclusion wrt to if he’d reach the drawing of the veil or not. Does it even matter? He’s still the same adult man, who’s gone through far worse hardships than losing memories of his past lives. If he lost his past life dreams too, well then I don’t think that’d make much of a difference for him.

[poorlittleyaoyao]

is jgy different in the books than in the untamed? sorry if u haven’t read them im kind of just assuming u have even tho i haven’t lol but i was wondering if his characterization has any major differences like how wwx in novel vs untamed they sort of sanitize him and take away any culpability and honestly some of his edge. just curious if there’s any major differences in his characterization between the two

I'm not the best person to answer because I've only read the first two volumes of MDZS. Short answer: Yes, he is different, and in fact gets the reverse of WWX's treatment: Drama JGY is more overtly villainous than Novel JGY. However, IMO it's a little more complicated than that!

(Novel enjoyers, please chime in if I'm forgetting or misrepresenting anything.)

A lot of JGY fans greatly prefer the novel and feel that The Untamed did him dirty, because a lot of the show's plot changes that make WWX look better make JGY look worse. Jin Zixuan's death is the most glaring one: in the novel, WWX really does lose control of WN because he overestimates his abilities, and it's a tragic accident. JGY and SMS's implied involvement in the Massacre at Nightless City also doesn't happen in the novel; that, too, was a devastated WWX wreaking havoc and/or losing control. The novel also establishes that JGY is subject to abuse within Jinlintai, so there's an element of duress that one can read into his actions under JGS. Novel NMJ behaves more aggressively towards JGY than he does in the show, so his murder doesn't have the same tinge of malice. (The novel timeline also has JGY and LXC meeting before JGY and NMJ, all during Sunshot, so there's that.) Additionally, the novel tells us that JGY is genuinely a very good leader once he's Chief Cultivator and has implemented policies that have improved the lives of regular people and contributed to political stability. We're also told more about his childhood and his love for his mother, and we learn that his relationship with QS is a tragic love story (he doesn't know they're related until after she's pregnant) rather than something he went through with anyway. So in the novel, he's got a lot of positive things going for him that censorship didn't allow to carry over into the show for fear of having too much moral ambiguity.

HOWEVER!!!

The thing about the novel (and why I don't vibe with it as much) is that it's very much WWX's story, whereas The Untamed spends wayyyyy more time with its supporting cast. You might've noticed that I said the word "told" a lot in the above paragraph, because... well, that's what happens. We're told things about JGY, but we don't see him as much, especially since the novel is focused on the post-timeskip era with the stuff in the past coming through non-linear flashbacks. You don't get to see Meng Yao being Just A Little Guy very much before he becomes the Kitten Thinks About Nothing But Murder All Day meme. Now, you also don't hear dramatic music telegraphing HEY!!! HEY!! VILLAINY IS AFOOT!! HEY!!! every time JGY does literally anything, but you do have everything filtered through WWX's unreliable narrator monologue, and he is out there saying some truly wild shit. (You also get less Xiyao. Like, it's there if you want it to be, but The Untamed really went all-in on that.)

For me, the show works better, because I am a sucker for corruption arcs where you see glimpses of the character before they start the atrocities. Seeing him be Just A Little Guy making the saddest meow meow faces when people were mean to him kept me from totally losing sympathy for/interest in him once things start getting squicky, because I had evidence that he wasn't always like that. Meanwhile, JGY's first big scene in the novel is the confrontation with QS (which already makes my skin crawl and is somehow WORSE in novel form), and I was just like "wow, this guy sucks" even though I knew the story and all the extenuating circumstances already. For others, the novel works better, because "first impressions and society's opinion are unreliable" is a major theme, so the reverse reveal combined with the fact that he demonstrably tries to improve people's lives as a leader is less expected and more satisfying.

So yeah! JGY is different, but the ways in which he is different are due to storytelling methods as well as to plot changes!

[liwaywaydreamer]

My Savior (Ch. 1)

(Time travel au, Royalty au, BTS x Reader)

Synopsis: As a hopeless med student that has been accustomed to the roller coaster of mishaps in life, you were sure nothing could get worse than the current situation you’re in. Unfortunately, that thought didn’t include being transported back in the 1400s, nor did it include you being an apparent reincarnation of the person you hated most. Now, can this get any worst?

Pairing: BTS x reader

Warnings: Inaccurate history, angst, bystander effect, verbal abuse (reader received some insults and humiliated), harmful thoughts, implied politics (in connection only to the story, there are no real politician mentioned here), corruption in politics, unreliable narrator (if I forgot something, feel free to comment or send an ask?)

A/n: university life is shit and I was eyeing for this to be at 5k words but if I stuck to that, I wouldn’t finish this. If you like it, please reblog. Reblogs are worth more than likes here right?

Masterlist

Chapter 1: Like fate, like destiny

You're fucked.

Two words you continuously repeat in your head as you struggle to gather the mess of thesis papers you've left messily across your table the night before. Glancing at your alarm clock not surprisingly on the floor blaring 10:30 at you, sporting a dent not so hidden even if you're three feet away, (a surprising quality for such a cheap thing).

Your class starts at 8.

You tried your best to get to your university as quickly as you can, wishing time would stop a little, or even just go back, afraid of what is about to come. Despite your efforts not to get annoyed (and failing miserably) with the bodies you bumped into on the way and the occasional yelling here and there — from the moment you almost forgot to pay the bus fare to when you're facing your professor right now in front of the faculty lounge, the same professor which you needed to pass your research to— coffee splashed onto his shirt, a cup on the floor, and you on the receiving end of his anger.

He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture that you might have found endearing if he had been more physically appealing. You waited with bated breath, so used to his antics. Although some might see this as an attempt for him to control his anger, you however can see past his huge ego and idiotic narcissism, he was only doing this to attract more traction, the audience for your humiliation.

His prolonged sigh was your calm before the storm.

"You can't do anything right, do you?" he sneered as if trying to prove a point to the spectators, relishing in every second of your embarrassment. 

If being a disappointment was a job, you'll be the CEO in no time.

"Sir, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean—"

"SHUT UP!" he screamed as he loosens his necktie. You can't do anything but wait and hope that whatever he does next would suffice for how much you've messed up time and time again.

"You, what can you do right?" With each word, he poked and prodded you, pushing you closer and closer to the deep end. You whimpered, trying to not lose control but failing miserably as there was nothing that you could do to stop it, and whether you were just failing by your standards or the fact that he does not care, he continued his barrage of insults, never letting up despite your attempts to apologize.

"How long do I need to put up with you?" he slurred as he now prods your shoulder, harder and harder with each word.

"Sir, I'm sor— "

"HUH?!" a smack and you were on the ground. All the people in the vicinity just stood there, watching, unwilling to help— being a mindless watcher to the abuse, the true definition of a bystander effect.

Why is it in every discipline, violence needs to be included? Is that how we're programmed to learn? Through nothing but violence? You hoped for someone to help you even if you already knew that no one would. Yet, you hoped still.

If this was your first day in school, you would've fought back. You would've stood up for your pride. That a spilled coffee is not enough to humiliate you like this and that not every misfortune is because of you. But you know better; this isn't your first day, nor is it your second. You know how the system works and who it favors, and unfortunately, it doesn't favor you.

"...waste of space. If it weren't for your parents..." You didn't hear the other words he spoke as he walked away not forgetting to throw the papers he held— papers that were your best effort at reaching your dreams, thrown away with your hopes of being better than what they said.

Needless to say, you were suspended due to behavior misconduct; words that you no longer know the meaning of anymore. You're back to your cage-like rented dorm, whilst your head is everywhere but.

What a cruel joke, you thought. The first time you wanted something so badly for yourself and had dedicated your whole life to had to happen with the world's hatred for you was at its peak. Or had it ever really stopped?

You gripped the handle of your balisong, tracing the delicate and intricate designs you engraved on it as waves of atrocious thoughts crashed into your mind. How morbid, you mused. The same thing that you want to hurt yourself with right now is the same thing that made you feel grounded. You're aware that these thoughts are anything but good, but you're also aware of the fact that no one is going to help you.

Simply because no one wants to.

A medical career was not your parents' choice nor was it ever in their choice, but it was in yours.

You're not unconscious of the fact that a career in the medical field is a lot to take financially, and to be the only one in the medical field in a family of lawyers? You alone destroyed the dreams put on you by your mother who vicariously lived through you, but you wanted it.

And you thought that was enough.

But now, as you sit back on the barren floor of your sparsely furnished room that you once hoped would've at least shown evidence of the life of someone healthy in their early twenties, you had nothing other than your worn-out bed on the corner and a circular dinner table doubling as your makeshift desk, cut off from all financial stability that your parents could've provided you if you only heed to their wishes. Now, you think about whether your current situation is worth the sense of independence you fought so hard for.

Was it a foolish decision to stand your ground? To try to live your life on your own terms? Because you know for a fact that it doesn't matter if you followed every whim of your parents as they will always find something wrong and below their standards with you. With every breath, every change of clothes, every food that you intake, even your education— you were taught that everything that they have given you was a debt you owed them, and because of that they are within their rights to choose for you.

After all, parents only want the best for their children, don't they?

You are by no means the most intelligent person on the campus, nor were you trying to be. But you're committed to what you chose, and you hoped that that commitment can be seen through your effort and hard work. And yet, despite your commitment, those words, those words still echoed in your mind— you can't seem to un-hear those words.

“If it weren't for your parents.”

You wanted to choose a life separate from them, to forge a path of your own. But no matter how much it pains you to admit, you know now, clearer than ever, that it does not matter how far you run, you'd always be hidden beneath their shadows.

To only be recognized as the black sheep of your family.

Instead of indulging your self-pity and sulking alone in your room with a blade on sight much longer than you had intended to, you opt to browse the internet for some fun things to do; a piece of advice you got from the internet since seeing a psychiatrist would be a luxury for you.

And whether it was your misfortune running out finally or yet another adventure of mishaps waiting to unfold an announcement caught your attention:

"Join us for a free tour down the historical lane to commemorate the House of Kim, with events set to reenact the life our ancestors had lived!"

There were more words to the article but as you read on, your eyes fell on the tour's schedule.

"Gyeongbokgung tour is going to take place at 1:30 pm," you murmured to yourself.

It was an opportunity you couldn't miss, a rare sight to see. Despite the mental baggage weighing you down, this was a chance to experience something new and forget about your troubles, even if just for a little while. Maybe this was the way of the gods trying to make up for all the shit storm your life is at right now, but whatever it was, you'll take it.

So, without hesitation, you got up, grabbed your purse, and with the little money you have left, you headed out. You knew you had to take on more shifts at the store or find other jobs to cover for your sudden trip, as your dream of becoming a doctor was fading quickly and surely anyway. But for now, all you cared about was the prospect of exploring a historical place that had opened its doors on a day it usually wouldn't.

Arguably, no one other than yourself knows what decisions made on a whim can do to anyone. Whether this is your intuition telling you to go back to your room to help you or just to spite you away from society, you didn't dwell long on the thought.

All you needed to know is that you're drowning quickly, and you would hold unto anything, even a pair of gilded chains to let you breathe again.

"Gyeongbokgung Palace, also known as Gyeongbok Palace, was the primary royal residence and the largest of the five grand palaces that still exist today in South Korea. Built-in 1395, this..."

As you don't have a lot of money to waste, you stuck to the free guides the palace provides although not very effective when you're standing in the back of 50 people. And looking at how detached and uninterested your tour guide is whilst speaking, without a doubt, you knew that this was just an additional job to her. Not really enough to complain about since the constant chattering of the people around you easily engulf her almost robotic voice anyways.

This trip already cost you more than you expected and standing still to nonsense chatter was not part of your nonexistent plan. So, with the palace map in hand, you left the group with ease.

"Gwanghwamun: the southern gate that became the main gate after some time. It is one of Seoul's iconic sights, having been restored after being largely destroyed by the war," you read while gazing up at the magnificent building in front of you, the swaying of windchimes singing their lullabies in the background. Your eyes carefully scanned every nook and cranny, not wanting to forget this beautiful sight. Although you can't be sure if the scenery is exactly as it looked when it was originally built, the idea of having remnants of the past soothes your soul.

You've always been intrigued about the things that have already happened, or perhaps that's an understatement as your mind always seems to be occupied with thoughts about what they could have done differently and the effects of it on the modern world. Whether it really is fascinating to you or just a form of escapism, you don't want to know. All you do know is that you're a product of the modern world, but something within you suggests that itself was a mistake.

Especially when the Kim dynasty has the best-looking aristocrats you had ever seen.

No, you weren't attracted to them, you tried to defend yourself from your inner turmoil as you gaze upon the paintings displayed. You just know how to appreciate beauty when you see one, even if it's just paintings on a wall. This was once again your Philip Hamilton but with much more injustice. At least with Philip, there were actual pictures of him to bestow the world with his beauty. And although you can commend the talents of the painters of the past considering they did not have the best art supplies during their time, you still cannot grasp the idea that these people existed. Not when they are reduced to the mere splat of colors made to resemble a person.

You couldn't clearly see the features of each man in the paintings, but it's not really anyone's fault for it's just the evidence of time. Nevertheless, your admiration for them never lessened, because it's more than their artificial perfection that deserved your admiration and respect. They were also the ones who did more than any other aristocrats ever did for their people. They were the true embodiment of a regime existing not for the regime itself, perfectly aware of who gave them power. Although yes, it wasn't a democracy, but even democracy has its problems.

All you can say is they did their best to lead their people. At least for some time, as they were the foundation that made South Korea what it is now. Sure, their reign could've ended better, still, they were an integral part of history.

And history should never be forgotten.

Although it disheartens you that their achievements and sacrifices are slowly being forgotten; the wars they've won are now taken for granted, you understand that life goes on and people have their own lives to live. It's another reminder that time doesn't stop for anyone.

As the wind chimes fluttering in the breeze, abruptly ceasing your thoughts. Somehow, you felt a sense of belongingness, despite their faintness that could easily be muffled by the chirping of birds. Nonetheless, it was truly fitting for the place as it only elevated the experience the palace could only give.

You couldn't quite understand why wind chimes would be placed in Geunjeongjeon, other than to elevate the experience, but since the cold breeze was constant ever since you stepped onto the palace grounds, you're certain that the people who are in charge knew exactly what they're doing.

You continued observing the place, trying to imagine what events had happened on the concrete that was paved hundreds of years ago. Was it quiet? Were the roads bustling with people constantly? Or were there just only a handful of people seen from time to time walking along?

You were so deep into your imagination that for a few seconds, you felt as though you were transported back in time. You were seeing groups of three to four consorts walking and talking to each other, palace women walking briskly with a basket on their sides, and a few eunuchs scolding some servants who probably messed something up. And then suddenly, everything came to halt when a booming voice from behind you commanded, "Make way for the Prince!"

As you turned to face the source of the voice, you found yourself making eye contact with a man whose attire you could easily recognize from the K-dramas you'd watched, and even with the distance between you, you can't help but feel he was looking straight at you.

"Excuse me, is this yours?" A little girl's voice interrupted your daydream, her voice so cute as she lightly tugs your shirt, holding out your phone.

"Oh, thank you so much!" you exclaimed, realizing that you were in your head so much that you didn't feel your phone fall off your pocket. You would have another problem added to your bulk of problems if it weren't for the girl.

"No problem, have a good day!" she gleamed brightly and ran off. The kid was so energetic you couldn't even give her something back. 

As you opened your map once again, you accidentally dropped your phone and with it, you see a pocket watch on the ground. And it didn't take you to think twice to know to whom it belongs. Hurriedly, you followed the kid toward the path of the Hyangwonjeong pavilion.

"Where did she go?" you murmured, you were sure that you had seen her walking towards the pavilion, but as you see the bare grounds of the place, you realized you had lost track of her. The pavilion was nearly empty except for a few tourists, and you felt torn between searching for the girl to return the watch or continuing to explore the palace grounds.

As you were going to turn around and try to find the girl, you stopped in your tracks. After all, did you really spend your money to travel here just to end up focusing on returning a girl's missing watch when the palace was only open for a limited time? It would be a waste of time going here if you didn't enjoy your time, right? As you stood there contemplating your decision, the constant breeze grew stronger, making the wind chimes nearby flutter and although messy, they still somehow created the most beautiful melodies. The sound disrupted your thoughts, but somehow provided an answer to your dilemma. You decided to keep the watch and continue exploring the palace. After all, you didn't want to waste your money and time searching for someone who would likely be enjoying the sights with her guardians. You could always return the watch to her later.

As you stroll on the bridge named Chwihyanggyo, your fingers lightly tapping the railings, you thought of one thing that could make this experience a million percent better.

"Why are hanbok so fucking expensive?" you huffed, frustrated at yourself for not being able to afford one. But since you can't do anything about it, you continued walking with a pout toward the buildings that housed the aristocrats of the past. The melodies of the windchimes grow louder as you come closer. And that's when it hits you.

How do you keep hearing them considering you haven't seen one since your first step on the palace? If this was a scene in a drama, you would've thought that the windchimes were following you, serving as the background music for the main protagonist's introduction. But this was no drama nor were you a main protagonist material, and you couldn't help but feel curious about it.

As you stepped inside the pavilion, you felt like you were slowly reaching your dream of going back in time as you gaze at the antique furniture that filled the place. Your fingers trailed the rough edges of the desk, which had subtle engravings that seemed unreadable at first glance: 다 괜찮을거야.

Everything will be alright.

The phrase repeated in your head as you wondered what it meant. Was it a message from the past or just a meaningless inscription? You felt a sense of longing to uncover the mystery behind it, and you wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't felt it, but the pavilion was closing soon, and you had to leave to look around more. 

As you were about to exit, the chimes called out to you again, tempting you to get closer and follow their sweet melody— almost as if they could sense the curiosity in your mind. You followed the sound until you stumbled upon a backroom, which looked like a storage room that had been converted into a makeshift bedroom for the caretaker. You stepped across the redline, both figuratively and literally, unable to resist the urge to explore further.

From the balcony, you caught a glimpse of the wind chimes dangling from a branch over the lake. The constant ringing didn't falter from luring you in. You scanned the area for anyone who could catch you and when you saw no one, you leaped over the balcony and headed toward the chimes. There was something about the chimes that piqued your interest, but whether it was the chimes themselves or the confusion of how you keep hearing them from afar, you weren't sure, and nor were you going to find your answer.

Because as the popular idiom goes, curiosity killed the cat, and with a slip up your feet into the lake you go.

♛♛♛♛♛♛♛

The row of daisies sat atop the windowsill, bathed in the golden light of daybreak. The silent whims of the wind filled the space, stirring the dried leaves on the small makeshift table below, made with old planks with jagged edges, where jars of medicines sat alongside a worn notebook filled with hastily scribbled notes. There was the usual sound of footsteps and the creaking of floorboards. The palace's physicians and attendants began to trickle in, their visits indicated by the soft chimes of wind chimes hanging above the door.

And the wind blew one more time. As if it's intentionally done to send a message as the image of blurred sketches comes through.

All was well.

Until the peaceful scene was shattered by the thunderous galloping of horses that had shaken the rooms. Until there was the clash of metal on metal that filled the air as swords were unsheathed. And until there were faces with features you couldn't make up.

Muffling, shuffling, screaming, shouting.

It was only chaos and bloodshed, and as it worsened, the ringing in your ears grew louder and louder, drowning out all other sounds and leaving you with nothing but a sense of overwhelming disorientation.

Then, just as suddenly, it all heeds to a stop. The ringing faded away, and nothing could be heard other than the flipping of the pages, the smooth gliding of a pen, and the wind chimes outside the window that began to tinkle once again. You looked out the window and saw a tranquil scene: rows of green grass and golden hay, and the majestic curve of a mountain in the distance. There were no whims nor whispers of the wind.

All was quiet and still.

As if everything was at its stalemate; the equilibrium.

And then, as if a stick had been broken, it happened.

The scene began to shift and blur, colors and shapes warping and twisting like a nightmare. The ground trembled beneath your feet; the tremors so strong that you could've sworn you felt it all as images flickered before your eyes. You saw a crowd of men gathered around someone lying on the cold hard floor with colors ranging from black to white, their sorrows crystal-clear even with the constant ringing. Then you saw a field of yellow flowers, a scenery of green and gray with men running toward something in the distance, their faces twisted in anguish, kneeling and begging in the middle of a field.

The images kept shifting and switching back and forth. Everything was in chaos as if fate itself was unsure of what was to come. But through it all, you struggled to hold onto each fleeting image, desperate to make sense of the chaos that surrounded you. And then, with a sudden jolt, you were pulled back into reality, coughing up water as you gasped for air. As you opened your eyes, the last remnants of the dream slipped away, and you were left with only the memory of the intense emotions it had stirred within you.

Dazed, and confused. You looked up, meeting the gaze of the man who had pulled you from the water, his eyes filled with concern and relief.

You were certain you hadn't met him before, but you could've sworn that those almond-shaped eyes were something you could never forget, etched into your memory with an inexplicable familiarity.

To be continued...

Thanks for reading!