#rayney's escaped archive containment

[well-look-at-this]

Contending with You

a/n: this is probably a structural mess but wtv no beta we die like a wet rat. i have not seriously written long-form prose in who KNOWS how long lol but the demons got me tonight. i seriously need to know how to change the font on tumblr,,, times new roman i miss you,,,

@person8789 i finished this with cater just for you lmfao enjoy

summary: a depressing ramble-y character study on twisted wonderland characters will likely do more in the future :) if you want to discuss or expand or seek clarification on anything come to my ask box!!! do it!!!

includes: Idia, Azul, Ruggie, Cater

Thinking about Idia and his isolation. Raised in a lab where everything is valued under efficacy and logic. How the only human thing in his life was a little brother, lost and replaced with a mechanical perversion. A snapshot of his perception, ultimately a gaping wound in its unchanging existence as everything moves on around it. Thinking about Idia and his genius; how he lacks the social exposure to really understand how different he is��but he feels it anyway every time someone tries to really talk to him–and how he’ll never really be able to feel understood or connected. Thinking about how he surrounds himself with cold logical machines and only speaks to his robotic brother. Who dismisses anything not categorized as his expect behavior; never straying from his coding. Thinking about how Idia Shroud is less man and more machine.

Thinking about how Azul is trapped. Bullied for things that were never true and things that shouldn’t have mattered. Child of divorce–he learned young the faults with emotional attachment; always make sure you get it on paper. People let you down, and they’ll take more than is theirs did his dad ever say goodbye? I guess it’s a good thing he was young enough that a good replacement could fill that void. Talent for mental arithmetic; how long has he been counting? Calories, kilograms and grades–quantifiable achievements he makes but are just never quite enough. Thinking of his only close friends and how he trusts them transactionally as well–one day they won’t find me amusing anymore and they’ll leave, that’s just the fact of the matter–but he trusts them because he can expect the way it ends. Thinking about how he calculates his losses like controlling the pain can make it hurt less. Thinking about how he’s changed so much, but in his head he’s still the scared wounded kid being jeered at and always will be no matter how much he achieves and disproves it. Thinking about how Azul Ashengrotto can’t see himself as anything more than what they told him he could be.

Thinking about Ruggie and the things he carries. Thinking about cracked lips in savannah wasteland heat and being another set of barely fed bones in the bunch. About learning young to kill the things that won’t keep you fed; morals you need that wallet more than them, pride shove the bile down what’s a couple bruises if it means you get to eat, safety you’re already on the knives edge. Thinking about him becoming familiar with death far too much far too young. Funerals like morning weather, keep moving, if you stop it’s over just another body forgotten by lunch. Thinking about how despite everything he still cares too much. Comfortably fed at school and still working jobs every free minute so maybe one less kid starves back home. Unashamedly cozying up to the biggest predator in the ring in the hopes of scraps. Staying with a smile when the beast nearly kills you, and he’s left with a glower instead of an apology. But it didn’t matter, ruggie expects every day could be his last so it never really bothered him. Thinking of Ruggie Bucchi; the dead man walking.

Thinking about Cater’s absence. How he’s always there in the center of the crowd but never in the room. Thinking about all the pieces that got left behind with every new school and old house. How nobody was around to notice it. Sister’s too interested in making him what they wanted to see. Leaving behind everything that hurts, figuring out how to not really care. Thinking about how he hates a found family trope because he can never have it. Even if he did he’d rather not, he’s too tired of the moving on and forgetting with every fizzeled out friendship. Thinking about being so good at what people want you to be you’ve made magic out of it. Everyone’s favorite senior Cater. So many different caters and no way to tell which is real. If people think you’re shallow they’ll leave you alone, they won’t try to know you and they won’t care. Who barely even knows who he is anymore himself. Thinking about Cater five years from nrc who’s forgotten Heartslabyul in every way that matters and didn’t stay in touch. Who carved out too much and left himself hollow and brittle. Thinking of Cater Diamond the What’s Her Face doll.

[well-look-at-this]

Contending with You. II

a/n. bro... writing this was like trying to pry something out of a dog's mouth man... NO BETA RAHHHH!! I finished this and immediately died on the couch w/o posting it major L. anyway here's the 3 short kings and a dog edition (i did NOT notice i put all the shawtys together until i was alr deep 😭 Lilia's was almost so long just because he is so old lmao CHAPTER 7 SPOILERS GUYS FOR DIASOMNIA

Part I: Idia, Azul, Ruggie, Cater

Includes: Riddle, Epel, Jack, Lilia

Thinking about Epel and pride that bleeds. About growing up happy and loved and never feeling wrong. Thinking about when he started school in another town and it started. You look like a girl. Shouting and bruised knuckles. Screaming at a brick wall. Thinking about how it only would get worse as he got older, how he couldn’t grow out of it. Thinking about living in a body that stops feeling like you but just won’t change. About living in people’s assumptions and never being heard. Thinking about being forced to play the role anyways, because you weren’t strong enough. Because he’s never been strong enough to be allowed to be himself. Always told what you are but it’s never right. Thinking about Epel Felmier, the wolf born in the skin of a lamb. 

Thinking about Riddle and hunger. About being the smallest thing in a big perfect house. Thinking about growing up in a conditional and surgical world. Everything done to the T and if not then you’ve failed completely. Plain planned meals in a soft small body. Hungry, but you can’t exceed your planned caloric intake. Watching other children laugh across the street. Hungry, but you have to study, you can’t be irresponsible… you’re five. But it’s not like Riddle knows what he’s feeling, it wasn’t part of the curriculum. Secret friends and a whole tart, feeling full for the first time–being punished for it. You can’t see your friends anymore. Starving. Going to school and becoming part of a place with eight hundred and ten rules. Feels like home. Thinking of tyranny, of a love like your mother; of doing what’s best for them. They start to shake around you, you’ve finished your favorite tart and received another set of As so why are you hungry. Thinking about Riddle trying to feed monsters that will never be satisfied. Thinking about Riddle Rosehearts and a hunger that’s eating him alive.

Thinking about Jack and faith. Admiration and goals; the expectation and excitement of meeting your idol. But no one ever told Jack that you shouldn’t meet your heroes. Meeting Leona, who doesn’t try and certainly doesn’t play fair. Thinking about someone raised in a pack with values and a place for everyone thrown out in the savannah. They should be a team, so why is everyone eating each other alive? Thinking about being thrust into a place where you have to prove your worth to not be tossed aside. But everything you do and know is wrong here, nothing you do could ever make you fit in. Thinking about being threatened in your own dorm. Being so on edge you betray “your” own pack for another. Thinking about living with the aftermath, the whole savannah on his back. They could’ve won if not for you, they want to make sure you won’t be a problem next time. Thinking about Jack Howl who knows he can only end up a martyr. 

Thinking about Lilia and all his time. A feral kid with no birthday, who finds unexpected family only to lose them too soon. Missing and dead, with an egg in his arms that he’s not good enough to see but won’t hatch for years. Thinking about decades scouring the world in the hope he can find his missing friend. Thinking about every time he mused about “what Malleanor and Levan would think of this”. How many times would he catch himself, reminding himself one is dead, the other is missing, left only with their slowly dying son he can’t seem to save. Thinking about the general who hates humans and everything they’ve stolen but can’t help but appreciate them in his years among them. Thinking about the Lilia who cries holding Malleus and won’t let go despite what the council says. Who realizes Malleanor was right and he’s just so full of love. Thinking of Lilia and a lifetime of being so lesser you believe it. Despite raising a boy you can’t say he’s your son, because he could never replace the people he sees in their face, he doesn’t deserve it and he’s vile for even entertaining the thought. Thinking about finding the son of the man who destroyed your family and country, and raising him as your own. About never treating him as anything less than yours but still not allowing yourself to think of yourself as his father. That the boy can never really be yours, even when he is, Seven’s he is. Thinking about thinking yourself is so inconsequential that there’s no gravity to you leaving with no warning. Thinking about Lilia Vanrouge, the fae who couldn’t realize he was a father.

[well-look-at-this]

[well-look-at-this]

fair warning: there's gonna be 18+ content here

tag for my writing ↓

[well-look-at-this]

love having a graveyard job where the depressing author mania can hit at 2am. 3 characters deep so far does anyone want this?

UPDATE: it's been posted, my new writing tag is #rayney's escaped archive containment