#since stories about fate always end with with the fate being inescapable

[sincetheducksleft]

I still think intergenerational trauma as tragic fate is a major theme of the sopranos, especially in this episode.... Tony saying AJ has "the putrid Soprano gene," and Melfi recognizes genetic predisposition as a euphemism for fate and so she's really telling him "when you blame fate you blame yourself" because she knows Tony thinks he's passed his ill fate onto AJ the same way ill fate was passed to him by his mother and father. And Melfi says "that's what we should talk about" as if this, too, is analyzable and graspable and fixable, and really it's a constant conflict across the whole show, that psychiatry is predicated on the ability to change yourself which means changing the fate that's written into who you are, but Tony never truly believes that fate is fixable. He says "how do we save this kid?" and the scene cuts out, because Tony never, ever knows how a person can be saved from who they really are.

[carlyraejepsans]

You said in the Ralsei post that his flirting with Kris is supposed to make us uncomfortable or at least question his relationship to Asriel. I agree that Toby could possibly "go there", but do you think it's intentional on Ralsei's part? I genuinely don't think he knows he looks like Kris's brother. If someone makes Kris get into a relationship with someone who looks like their brother, I think it'll be the players fault for knowing he looks like Asriel and forcing it anyway rather than Ralsei himself actually knowingly being into incest. (feel free to answer this without posting the ask if it's worded badly)

all things considered i don't think he does. i think what's happening in deltarune is that ralsei, as a darkner, was created to play on our fondness and love for the asriel we knew in undertale. at the same time, if you're in any way familiar with classic rpgs, you'll realize that ralsei's role in the story is a direct callback to the "healer of the cast, bearer of the prophecy and love interest for the protagonist" trope (a role that was always given to female characters, tying into his gnc quoi), so being framed romantically by the story is... kind of a given here. however, those two core aspects of his, well, self, are basically incompatible. at least when it comes to his desire to be liked by kris, because being pushed into romantic situations you perceive as incestuous is, understandably, going to freak a guy out.

as you probably know, i recently had the chance to play earthbound, and paula reminded me of ralsei so much. ralsei deconstructs the rpg girl trope in general, but knowing how big of a mother 2 fan toby is, i feel like she was a pretty clear inspiration in the way he wrote ralsei. and something that happens again and again and again throughout the course of earthbound as soon as paula joins the team, is that people constantly make comments about her and ness being together. now, paula/ness is canon by the end of the game and has been confirmed as such by the creators, but earthbound as a game heavily features the topic of fatedness; and unlike deltarune, chosen ones and prophecies and dreams of future friends are never questioned by its plot, they are the plot. so, since a big part of deltarune's gimmick consists in questioning the trope of rpg fate, i wonder if ralsei's crush on kris might be revealed to be something predetermined too, going forward. after all, he spent a long time waiting for the heroes of prophecy to arrive so he could become their friend and help them on their quest. if that same "fate" determined that he was supposed to be kris' love interest, then knowing ralsei he probably accepted that fact and acted accordingly. which would mean getting into whether those feelings are actually genuine or if they're born out of duty and his submission to What Is Right And What Should Be.

the main reason i don't think he's aware, though, is that that incompatibility between those two aspects of himself that prevent him from fulfilling (part of) his purpose is a storyline that heavily reminds me of spamton's. ralsei is the most "purposepilled" character in the entire game. he is ADAMANT about reinforcing 1) his own lack of agency 2) that of all other darkners 3) the darkners' purpose towards the lighters as not only inescapable, but good, 4) the status quo of the light world/dark worlds dynamic as it stands. fulfilling his purpose is a BIG deal to him, and the story is obviously going to have an arc challenging it and sending the poor boy into an existential crisis. and him realizing during the events of the game that his literal appearence alone makes kris uncomfortable and prevents him from being the good rpg love interest character he was created to be, well... it just feels like a good way to further that arc.

[thefeastandthefast]

Since I promised Mr. Feast I wouldn't watch ahead of him and he's slowly catching up, I've taken a pause in my gleeful binge of 一念关山 A Journey to Love to jot down a few of the disorganized thoughts I have about my best beloved favorite girl Yang Ying in the wonderful first eighteen episodes of this drama.

MILD SPOILERS BEYOND.

I cannot wait to see little pocket sized wolf cub Princess Yang Ying do her thing in the next half of the show. Honestly feel so blessed to have this character; there’s no one else like her in cdrama or American TV for that matter!

One of the themes I enjoy in stories about royal power struggles are narrative arcs for female characters who transition from naive to knowing, usually borne out of experiencing the inescapability of their femaleness in a treacherous sexist environment and consequently the limited array of tarnished tools at their disposal and the ways these tools are then deployed. I enjoy that type of story- Book Sansa Stark, my nostalgic fave! Zhen Huan! Minglan, even, in a way. As for historical examples, Empress Matilda! Isabella of France!

But I'm also absolutely relishing this twist on the familiar theme in A Journey to Love.

Because Yang Ying is a royal woman being explicitly trained to grasp the duties and wield the power of a prince, not the oblique power of a princess. The success of the mission, and the lives/fates of the Wu emperor, her subjects, and her now beloved friends in the delegation, depend on her ability to convincingly wear the mantle of princely responsibility, power, and prerogative and to physically and mentally embody this role. And for a child who is as malleable as she is in the beginning of the show, this incredibly formative AND transformative extended roleplay will inevitably become forever entrenched in her conception of self and her sense of possibility.

The kind of limited power she might have been able to achieve as an impoverished minor princess requires a very different skillset from the one she's acquiring. It would only be a contingent and conditional power, a la her sister-in-law the Empress of Wu or the Noble Consort Chu or Chuyue, the tomboy princess from the state of An, who perfectly demonstrates how a clever, capable, wealthy, beautiful royal woman with a powerful family is still a blunted sword.

What would be fascinating to explore, beyond her triumph as Prince Li of Wu (which, to reiterate, I'm SO EXCITED FOR), is the inevitable friction of what she would feel and do after mastering and embodying princely power but then must contend with the expectations and limitations of the identity she has long outgrown but will still be expected to perform once the mission is complete.

I don't think the drama will have time to cover this- after all, she is a supporting character and it would be a thematic tangent. But I suppose that's what fic is for! Maybe I will once again be inspired to write fic, depending on how they end Yang Ying's story...

Stories and characters that reveal emotional truth through pretense will always be my jam. In addition to the unexpectedly delightful Ren Ruyi/Ning Yuanzhou, I love this show so much for giving me Yang Ying.

[kishimotomasashi]

I love your takes on the Uchiha clan so I wanted to ask you what do you think of the curse of hatred?? Do you think Kishimoto really intended it to be a genetic curse or do you think he provided a different explanation for it in the text?? What do you think of Tobirama’s view in it??

So in the manga canon, there seem to be two versions of what the fans call "curse of hatred": Obito's, since he's the one who actually uses the term (which he said as Madara, meaning he likely got it from him), and Tobirama's, who provides the "scientific" explanation for why the Uchiha are Like That. Each are respectively in chapters 462 and 619 for reference, I don't feel like screenshotting, lol.

There are also different in-universe reasons for why each character says either. Obito's subscribes to Madara's brand of fatalism, in which he believes that shinobi history never straying from interminable violence for most of its duration proves that they are all beyond saving. Tobirama views the Uchiha with suspicion as a result of having been at war with them for most of his life, and is especially anxious regarding what Madara became and the possibility of anyone else going the same route.

I don't know what Kishimoto actually intended because I don't live in his brain, but from what I gather based on the story, what we're supposed to understand as the "curse of hatred" is more Obito's definition than Tobirama's, since his is eventually the one that matters in the series climax (the whole Indra/Ashura reveal); so a destiny initially understood to be inescapable, but that they will eventually escape because of the power of friendship, and all that. Which isn't to say that I think what Tobirama says about the Uchiha doesn't matter: along with his explanation pretty much just putting into words how the we've seen the sharingan work so far, he describes the Uchiha's propensity for going insane with a different sort of determinism, though one whose imagined consequences are barely distinguishable from the way Obito talks about them as fate. Two sides of the same coin.

But funnily enough, he's a bit more hopeful about it than Obito/Madara seem to be: he does believe in the ability of certain Uchiha to overcome this genetic predisposition to being evil of theirs, which he defines as, uh, being more loyal to the village. We've all gone over why this sucks as a narrative probably a billion times by now so I don't need to go into all of that specifically— but, if we decide to accept that premise for a second, it looks to me like the intention with what Tobirama says within the context of the scene he says it in (which is Sasuke asking the past Hokage to define what a shinobi village is, or is supposed to be, and whether Konoha is worth protecting based on that answer) is that it's supposed to fall in line with the "we can achieve peace if we all forget our differences and work together" theme. True, the Uchiha are like this, but they can also overcome this and work for the greater good, and the whole encounter Sasuke has with the Hokage ends on a hopeful note.

Basically it's more or less "everyone else was a lost cause, but you don't have to be" as a hopeful message. Which is Not Very Good, in my personal opinion, when the context is a whole population, children included, being wiped off of the face of the Earth for the actions of a few. So my opinion of the "curse of hatred" the way it's presented in canon is that it just falls into the typical poorly thought out "fate is real" thing that plagues the latter half of the series.

I think I have a stronger opinion against it when it starts being used by fans of the show in discussions. Though I think we're all long past the era in which these arguments were everywhere (or at least I don't hang around in spaces where they're used), I still hold a grudge against every person who used the idea of the "curse of hatred" to defend the UCM, which was often always in order to shield Itachi specifically from criticism for going along with it and it was like... why are we subscribing to the idea of a group of people genetically being predisposed to evil in order to justify why it was necessary that they died right now. Hello.

[loveletterworm]

Everyone thinks Mike is a sinister force but honestly, considering that the two pieces of info we have on him are "spamton cares about him" and "tenna possibly fucked him over" makes me wonder if Mike is just. Like. A nice fella. Like a geniuelly nice person.

Like this wouldn't even exclude him from being a secret boss, I imagine each secret boss being a bit different in their mannerisms, like how spamton is very pushy and loud while jevil was more laid back and carefree. What if Mike was just nice, someone who got fucked over because they were too nice to the wrong person, someone who might geniuelly befriend kris (unlike spamton who is just trying to scam them) but then later realises that if he wants to escape his terrible situation he'll have to backstab kris the way he has been (presumably) backstabbed, and in the end gives into the temptation.

This is all conjecture, of course, (and i will the first to admit that its a bit too close to spamton story wise) but it is a possibility!

(<- she has finally been given prompt to mikepost) YEAH!!! I am actually the biggest supporter of niceys mike in the world. (There's no ranking for this so I can just say that I am.) And I do think that could be done in a way that's pretty distinct from Spamton imo. I always liked to think maybe he could have like an Alphys-ish role as like a recurring friendly NPC that shows up a couple times in a normal route... (Maybe that's a little too "unhidden" if the idea is he'd also be a secret boss, but I figured since Spamton is a mandatory miniboss that the secret bosses could be varying levels of out-of-the-wayness....IDK)

To get more dangerously specific my thoughts were something like. Presuming he is a microphone (I will die on the michaelphone battlefield. Unless it turns out to be wrong then I'll be embarrassed) and also a secret boss (I'm less confident of this one but I mean we might as well entertain it), there could be some sort of angle like. A microphone's purpose is to amplify/otherwise relay the sound of people's voices rather than make its own noises.* So I figured if one wants to continue on the "secret bosses have Kris parallels" route, Mike in this idea would be like...A guy who is just in the habit of doing things on behalf of other people rather than for himself. And is like at least outwardly totally accepting of that situation (maybe resigned to it), because that is quite literally his "purpose" as a literal microphone. Which I think is Reasonably Different From Both Spamton And Jevil, and could have some angle that sort of examines "Why does Kris keep letting us go back to controlling them if they clearly don't like it" (I know the generally accepted thing is "They don't seem to function well without their soul in their body" but like the game still hasn't fully talked about that yet) and it's just generally like. A third different outlook on freedom/choices-mattering/whatever. Like instead of going "Nooooo" or "Wahoo I can do whatever" in the face of some kind of inescapable fate he'd just be like "Ah well...I guess that's how it is...". I have no idea how this worldview would lead him to partake in some kind of huge boss fight since it seems a little contradictory to that sort of thing. I guess something crazy probably happens

* I guess a microphone can kind of make unpleasant feedback noises under some circumstance. I'm not sure how this factors into any of the metaphor I prepared I kind of don't have exactly how microphones function memorized

[youareinlove]

“swirled you into all of my poems” is just another symptom of the whole invisible string -> mastermind pipeline Taylor has been struggling with forever. She needs love to feel fated, inescapable, inevitable, but since life (and love, arguably) is more complicated than that, she plans and schemes and repeatedly writes the men back into the tapestry of her past, to try and forge a connection as a reassurance that their love was always meant for her and thus no matter how hard it might be in the moment, it will survive. Before MH, there was Joe and the invisible string that in hindsight seems so feeble and meaningless - like, really, a smash hit Bad Blood was playing in a taxi in LA, so they were always meant to be together forever? But sometimes those moments are all one might need to remember (or to convince themselves) that there’s something to fight for, that everything will inevitably be okay.

So she swirled him into her poems, alright. Retroactively, post-factum. In a state of extreme distress, she started seeing shades of him in her music, as a coping mechanism, as a justification for taking the plunge that she probably already, deep inside her own soul, knew was a mistake. She was just giving in to what was inevitable, look, it’s all over my songs, right? Right? No? Then I’ll make it so.

In the end, the lyric was never meant to be the confession his fans yearn for it to be.

okay so in some ways, i do agree with this. the important thing to understand about the fact that she retconned herself a great love story in order to plan an escape route is that this is just another facet of the microwave/oven dichotomy—she wrote her and joe's love story to be greater than it was too, by the end (sweet nothing, lavender haze, even paris and glitch). using writing to make her life the story she needed it to be at various points and wrap her pain into a neat little bow of a conclusion was one of her primary coping mechanisms for a long time, and she's been doing it since speak now (arguably earlier, and i actually think about this in relation to wcs/mine all the time). of course, she's now identified that pattern and has learned to use writing as a coping mechanism purely for the catharsis and separate the less helpful parts of it, because that's how she ended up with the fallout of last summer, and this is most plainly explained in the manuscript. "what the agony had been for" is no longer her trying to write herself a happy ending, but instead her acknowledging that she's built something truly great out of the pain of her past.

but that being said, i don't think invisible string is what you're saying it is. i think her relationship with fate and especially fated love as a concept has changed, but invisible string isn't saying "bad blood was playing in the taxi and that's how i know we were meant to be". it's about all the things that brought you and this person together and how wonderful it would be if all that was part of a greater plan (and mastermind isn't a contradiction of invisible string either, because the fate vs. control dichotomy is an important one across her discography)

[illarian-rambling]

24 for the edgy OC ask game?

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

I think about this one a lot, since a lot of my characters' paths tend to be shaped by some pivotal choices, so forgive me if some of these get a little long :)

.

If Twenari had never run away from her mother, she would've eventually broken under the strain of being a human weapon and become an emotionless creature very much like Undeta. She would've taken over the Tunnel Wasp smuggling ring and raised it to new heights through her cunning and sorcerous talent. She probably would rule the blackmarket of all Janaz by the time she turned twenty.

If Saius had never been executed and Sepo had never burned the Silver Sovereign's heir and palace, he would've stayed a Singer-Priest, never learning that surface folk are sentient and what the sirens are doing is evil. With his drive and power, he would've become a true terror of the seas, sinking galleons with little trouble. I imagine if he ended up on this path and Twenari ended up taking over the Tunnel Wasps, the two would have an intense rivalry, as they would be haunting the same waters.

If Izjik had never followed that first urge from End, she never would've ended up in the Trench. Given how rare it is for spirits to come to Illaros, she probably would've lived most of her life unbothered by the star demon, as no god or Chosen would come near enough to activate its presence, which would remain rather dormant without that first kill. She would probably become a storied hunter of Edeme’eneha, content to live and love out her days within her swampy home, though she would always feel a vague lack of something in her life.

If Djek had been more willing to kill in service of the Tunnel Wasps, he would've risen much more quickly in their ranks. With his proclivity for shadow magic and fast-talk, he probably would've been trained as an infiltrator and assassin. Unfortunately, I can't see his unstealthy self lasting too long in this line of work. He'd probably get captured and turn coat, only to get captured again, and so on and so forth until he's made his rounds through most of Illaros's criminal syndicates.

If Astra had given up when she learned the Yewbury College of the Arcane wouldn't let her in, she would've returned to her home within the debtor's village, defeated. She still would've been determined to pay off her mothers' contracts, but without access to magic, I think she would end up turning to crime. All those underworld contacts would give her a good network to start something like the SLP she encounters in book 2. She'd probably end up starting a revolution against the landowners in rural Skolan and Sulu'Oku. Unfortunately, I also doubt she would last long in this line of work, though her dream would live on.

If Mashal never took that fateful guard assignment, he would've never encountered Vermir and would've stayed happily with his scouting regiment, protecting Skolan and Sulu'Oku's roads and helping weary travelers. With his older brother taking care of running the household, Mashal would be free to keep at his military career for as long as he liked. I think he'd stay a mounted knight for a long time, only retiring to run the family horse trading business when he hit middle age. There was another knight he was very close with, and though I hint a bit in flashbacks, I think in this timeline, Mashal and Shenlin would be happily married.

If Ivander never violated his contract by leaving his family, he would've never been cursed. Like Twenari, I think his morals would eventually be worn away under the drudgery of very mundane evil. He would end up a perfect Montane, married to a stranger with good connections, and working every day to tie hopeful people to inescapable contracts that would see them bankrupt. He doesn't have the drive to end up as the head of the family, so I think he'd be a very sad piece of middle management.

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And that's a wrap! A good blend, I think, of worse, neutral, and better. Thanks for the ask!

[octohip]

WRITING BUDDY NEEDED ♠

ALL ABOUT ME: (i feel like im back in elementary school as i type this lmao) My name's MJ (she/her), I'm 17, and I've been writing my first wip for maybe three years (idk—i'm horrible with time)! I've always loved getting sucked into ludicrous and enchanting worlds; I'm an expert at being in a room, but lost in an entirely different world I'd created in my mind. Writing has always called out to me, but I've ignored it in the past. But now it's my greatest achievement in life!

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ALL ABOUT MY WIP NO. 1: My first ever original wip, TBOY (i'm withholding the full name, because i like surprising people) follows Mayleen and Flynn, who face challenge after challenge in a new world, Mydrae. Both full of indescribable confusion at their puzzling feelings for each other, they hate to find themselves stuck together when an archaic threat haunts the fragile peace Mydrae's fought for the last 213 years.

As an Earth-Dweller who believes his fate lies with betraying Mayleen, Mydrae's Fated Queen, Flynn struggles with the war between his head and heart; to earn favour with his cruel father, he must kill the only person who'd ever seen his bare soul and loved him despite its pitiful intricacies. To follow his heart? He'll have to face those years behind him: the terror that's sunk its claws deep into him despite his hopes of outrunning it.

Mayleen knows where her fate lies—it's all she's heard for the last year. Ever since she became the Merislle, the Queen prophesied with the creation of her home after the Great War, she's bombarded with responsibilities and challenges—both never-ending and resulting in inescapable hurt. She knows she can't go on like this for long, but how can she reach her breaking point when the trials haven't even begun?

Mayleen and Flynn do all they can to stop history from repeating itself. But when Fate calls for sacrifice, who are they to brush it aside?

They're both beyond reason, never allowing people to get close to them. But when you're made for each other, you can't win those wars you swore you'd never fight in.

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ALL ABOUT MY PROCESS: I've struggled to stick to goals and edit my wip(s) forever. I've been doing this for a semi-long time, and I'm not sure how to hone in on my writing. I have an idea of what to improve on, but I'm not 100% certain. I'd love for someone to talk to and help with their roadblocks as well!

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My goal is to use this blog as a way to create connections and share pieces of my story to accumulate a few followers and friends to help me make my way up in the writing world! :.)

can't remember who gave me this idea, but if you see someone else doing something like this, tag them or something (i have no idea how tumblr works LMAO)

also plss forgive how rushed this is, i'm actually tired out of my mind rn and need to take a nap HAHAHAHA

my tiktok/insta: octohip

✒

[dzthenerd490]

File: Goosebumps - Say Cheese and Die!

SCP#: ADA

Code Name: The Bad Luck Camera

Object Class: Joke

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-ADA is contained at Site-AA. It is placed within a storage crate locked by a 6-digit pass code. The code has been erased from all records as SCP-ADA is to never be opened for any reason. Testing has been halted simply because it was quickly concluded that there was nothing left to learn from SCP-ADA. If someone wants SCP-ADA just tell them, if they can figure out the 6-digit lock then it's all there's. Though of course don't tell them that once they open it Epsilon-11 will hunt them down because it would be funny to watch them get beaten up by those guys. Oh relax! No one gives a shit about SCP-ADA, it's not like they’ll be regulated to D Class afterwards… I think.

Description: SCP-ADA is a vintage camera that is decorated rather oddly to make it have an "evil" theme to it. SCP-ADA has an unlimited amount of film meaning there's nothing stopping it from taking pictures. However, once SCP-ADA has taken a picture more specifically for someone, it will activate a curse. When someone has their picture taken by SCP-ADA they will be cursed to suffer a terrible and inescapable fate. Most of the time this results in a bad injury or some source of bad luck, though in more extreme cases it can lead to a painful death. SCP-ADA isn't always limited to causing bad things, but it can also curse its victims to die abnormal deaths such as becoming skinnier than a skeleton or bloating to more than the body can handle. 

Once the picture is taken the only way to stop the curse or reverse its effects is to tear up the picture. Photo editing has been shown to work as well though the effects never last, as such tearing up the photo is the best choice. Despite the danger it possesses, SCP-ADA is labeled as Object Class Joke because it's only dangerous if you actually use it. Since it's not really useful by Foundation standards, not even as a weapon, it can't be seen as anything more than just a joke as a result. 

SCP-ADA was discovered in 1992 when two high school kids were reported missing after a short series of strange occurrences happening within a week. A man got his car wrecked, a young boy got a bad concussion in a baseball accident, and a girl mysteriously disappeared for a day only to return the next day claiming she didn't know where she went. Foundation agents found that all the events lead them back to the basement of an abandoned house. There they found SCP-ADA as well of the two corpses of the kids reported missing. Their bodies were cremated and returned to the families with the cover story being they died in a fall accident within the house. 

After SCP-ADA was taken to Site-AA it was tested profusely until the full extent of its anomalous abilities were made clear, which only took 3 days. Of each of the [data expunged] D Class it was tested on, 70% died of natural causes, sickness, and accidents; 25% died of abnormal causes, and 5% ended up dying the moment the picture came out. Though the abnormal deaths warranted some further testing and investigation, many administrative staff found that further continuing testing with SCP-ADA was a waste of time. It was also concluded that containment resources shouldn't be wasted either, so it was labeled as Object Class Joke and sent to storage with the bare minimum of security given. To this day no one has touched SCP-ADA, even during a containment breach no hostiles, spies, or other SCP's have stolen SCP-ADA. It has been mostly forgotten; the unfortunate fate of most anomalies captured by the Foundation. 

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SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[tobeornottotc]

Hii! I haven't read the novel, but do you think that at some point Kinn and Vegas will learn to coexist in the same world? I can't wait to see the Vegas arc, and of course Pete!!!

Hi!

The funny thing is I know most of the spoilers for Kinn and Porsche story and arc for book 1 but I’m not familiar with all of Vegas and Pete’s story. I only know a few tidbits here and there, especially how they start, and Vegas’s role in KinnPorsche’s over all romance arc (which I have stated is one of my favorite things to explore in this story). It’s difficult because without spoilers, Kinn and Vegas have a long past with each other, they were forced to become enemies by external influences, for Vegas these influences are hard to escape from, especially since they’re interconnected mentally and psychologically to his traumas and growth. It’s not easy for him to easily coexist with Kinn when Kinn’s overall presence has been a trigger for him every step of the way and although it isn’t really Kinn’s fault per say, his presence still connects to Vegas’s mind of pain and anger, and the way he copes with that is to turn to ambition and greed to distract and convince himself it’s okay. With Kinn it's the same, while Kinn’s presence have always been a trigger for Vegas since young, Vegas is more connected to Kinn’s traumas in a different form, there’s hurt there, there’s pain and cruelty there from Vegas towards Kinn, and it’s not easy to just pretend that doesn’t matter.

 Let’s review what their dynamic is, because Kinn and Vegas’s roles are mirrored after who they are supposed to replace and take after in this chess game, their fathers. Korn is the head of the family but is distrustful and has been betrayed by many families next to him, this is a massive family as shown on Kim’s board, there’s threads of different minor families, and Korn has watched them come and go and try and take his spot, not to mention his own tense relationship (alike Hades and Zeus if you know Greek Mythology) with Kan (Vegas’s father) where the other one feels unfairly beaten and unfairly treated. With the titles being Kinn comes from the Major family, suggests superiority and Vegas being seen as minor to him, is something Kan had to deal with and couldn’t stand. So their fathers started this cycle before they were born, there are instilled ideas there, especially from Kan to Vegas, they’ve been molded and sometimes even forced to compete and hurt one another to try and get the upper hand.

So, it’s not easy for coexisting, Yes Vegas is going to end up with Pete (Kinn’s bodyguard) but because I don’t know how he becomes the right person for Pete, I don’t know what the outcomes of that is for his position in the chess game as the head of the second family, and what that means for the competition between the two of them. I hope there’s some sort of healing but with the amount of things they have gone through, they have thought and done to each other (mostly Vegas to Kinn) I don’t see an easy path to forgiveness, I don’t see how Kan will let go of his greed and hunger for the throne either, so I don’t know how Vegas can escape those shackles that bound him, yes Pete will be very powerful for that but how powerful? That’s why I’m excited to explore the dynamic between these two because I know the pain and hurt that binds them in this inescapable fate from the sins of their fathers. This cycle of betrayal and greed. A war Korn calls it in episode 5, because it is, and it’s up to them and their lovers to stop the cycle but when I don’t know. However, could there be someone else that causes them to work together later to defeat a common obstacle to both their roles? Maybe, I would think narratively that makes sense, but I don’t know if that happens since I have no clue about the outcome of VegasPete’s arc.

 Everything to do with Vegas in this show is complicated and painful, it’s conflicting and disturbing, it’s hard to love him but it's hard to leave him and not understand him, there’s a reason for his madness, his monstrosity, his chaos. And I want to see how this team and Bible transform his story for us to see that. I actually love Vegas a lot during his role in KInnPorsche arc, but his role in his own love story is too much to bear from where I’m at with spoilers, I honestly want to see how the show shows me how he becomes who he needs to be for Pete. Because we’ve not seen the real Vegas yet, there’s glimpses of him in episode 5 of the humanity stolen from him, the innocence but there’s also glimpses of him in episode 4 in his dungeon where he’s cultivating the monster inside him. Pete unfortunately shows up at the time the monster is no longer hidden and caged, and that’s the most stressful part of their journey. But monsters can love, monsters can be tamed, monsters can learn, and I can’t wait to see Vegas find the strength and catalyst to take back what was cruelly ruined and tainted for him.

Thanks anon. Hope that answers your question mostly focused on speculation to be honest since like I said it’s a blurry line for me when we get towards the next arc for him and Pete. But it’s one I think if taken time and effort to fully explain will be one of the best narratives in this genre for a long time. Vegas potentially could be the best character ever written!

[go-go-devil]

A Short Analysis of The Bachelor’s Final Decision

This was originally written as a comment for Codex Entry’s second-part summery/analysis of the Bachelor Route in Pathologic Classic HD (which I highly recommend watching even if you’ve already played through the game), but I felt like posting it here too since I put a lot of effort into thinking this through and don’t want to see it become lost to the comment section’s ether completely.

The way I see it, the Bachelor’s greatest failing comes not from his callousness to the townsfolk or his naivety to the Kains’ true plans (although both of those traits certainly helped set up this tragedy); it was his own private obsession with attaining victory over the plague.

From the very beginning, the game makes sure to establish that Daniil Dankovsky’s main goal is inextricably tied to his character and motivations. In his very first conversation with Eva he explicitly states he has chosen Death as his mortal enemy, comparing it to a “whim of the will that has shaped the world” instead of an inevitability. In another early-game conversation with Georgiy, he has the option to claim that he is no “fatalist” or to proclaim that “time, nature, and fate” deny men of the responsibility they have over their choices, and thus scoffs at the idea of being ruled over by them. And of course there’s all those comments he makes to many characters about how he is “used to winning” and wants to win in all of his quests throughout the game.

As far as the doctor is concerned, he is an entirely self-reliant man who willingly chose to venture out to the Town-on-Gorkhon on the faint hope that rumors of an immortal man were true, and thus would provide him with the proof he needs to help save his life’s work in Thanatica and finally grant him dominance over the seemingly unstoppable force of nature that is Death.

When news of Simon’s murder swiftly crushes that little pocket of hope, Daniil quickly dedicates his time to helping solve the mystery of his murder on the basis that doing so could still salvage some scraps of revelation about Simon’s secrets to longevity (a.k.a. Georgiy deliberately withholding information on his brother unless Dankovsky helps them). He then discovers the sand pest and, well, I don’t need to summarize all of the mayhem he endures after that. What’s important to note, though, is that as the story trudges on we the player are shown how every one of Dankovsky’s ideologies and goals are continuously refuted.

He refuses to believe that time and nature can have hold on his choices, but is undeniably controlled by the massive size of the town and how his travels wastes the precious time he could be using, especially once the infected districts and their downright-predatory plague clouds force him and the player to need to consider detours that waste even more time. He claims to not be a fatalist, but sets up his own inescapable fate inside the town after appointing Saburov as emergency governor and later learns from Aglaya that the government was always going to destroy Thanatica despite the doctor’s actions AND that the plague itself will inevitably destroy everything in the town in accordance with the logic of their world. He dedicates himself to saving lives, but is prevented from saving certain people and is forced to take several lives throughout his ordeal.

He goes through so much of the game thinking that he is in control of his own actions, only to discover in the end that everything is fake and he is nothing more than a toy being played with by both the children and the player.

Yet with the exception of that one escape attempt on the night of Day 2, the Bachelor never wavers from his goal of stopping the plague. Even as his morals are tested, as the aching soreness in his feet become unbearable with every step, as infection, rot, and wounds eat away at his body, as he endures every unavoidable failure and humiliation while the ruling families continue to pass him around like a blunt to satisfy their own selfish ends, he devotes himself wholly to destroying the town and preserving the Polyhedron because to him it is how he must win against the plague.

Against Death.

Against the Game Itself.

By the very end Daniil no longer even cares about his own aspirations, which I believe is why he goes along with Maria Kaina’s personal plans for a utopia despite knowing that he was nothing more than a tool for her and her family. His mind has taken in the magnitude and internal tranquility of the Polyhedron and solidified it as the only thing left in his life worth saving, despite still having no solid, rational explanation as to what the edifice even is and what it could be used to accomplish. It represents his last hope, the lost dreams of his childhood and destroyed ambitions of his adulthood. Even if he brings the Haruspex and Changeling with him to the meeting at the Cathedral, he ignores their testimonies in his canon ending because one wants to destroy the Polyhedron completely while the other is content with keeping the town and tainting the ‘hedron’s magnificence with its diseased-ridden foulness.

...But no victory is granted to Dankovsky once he makes his case and ensures the town’s destruction. He is, after all, the only healer who doesn’t appear in his ending’s cutscene, and the last action the player makes for him is going to sleep in a bed inside the town. The town that is about to be destroyed.

Now, I am aware that the game’s utopian characters must be drawing on the real-life utopians of Russia’s history in some way, and as someone who is not a part of that culture I could be missing out on some key themes here, but when it comes to Daniil’s choice to back the plans of the utopians I can’t help but think of the literal meaning of the word “utopia,” derived from the Greek οὐ-τόπος, “no place.” Personally, I feel that this meaning reflects directly onto the Bachelor’s situation throughout the story.

He had no place in the capitol, for his goals were defying the Law.

He had no place in the Town, for he is an outsider and chooses to remain one.

He had no place in the Kains’ new world, now that his usefulness to them has been depleted.

And by the end he had no place left in the game, for he gave up everything to achieve just one single grand achievement in his life.

The Bachelor won the game, but at what cost?

[livinginncity]

if we were human

♚: lee rang x reader

❡: fluff??(angst, pure angst)

ⱳƈ: 2.5k

⚠︎: besides it being really bad? none really. like, literally a couple swears. it was fluff, and then it became angst, so...sorry, but not really because if i’m crying, so are you.

children could be heard all around the park. some screaming and laughing as they run behind, others crying after they tripped, only to soon be comforted by the gentle holds and hushed assurances of their mothers and fathers. a bit further away was a small dog park, from which came all kinds of barks and growl, as well as cooing of the passerby. and there at a bench, located slightly closer to the swings and slides attracting the younger humans, sat a man that looked less than pleased to be where he was.

“Guess who.” a female’s voice rang out as a soft hand covered his eyes. he merely rolled his eyes beneath their new coverings and proceeded to drag the small wrist away from his face. “y/n.”

the young woman sneered and scoffed before yanking her hand out of his grasp to walk around and join him on the bench. “I don’t like you.”

“I don’t like you either.” a smack to the back of the man’s head could be felt soon after the words left his mouth. “Yah!”

“What are you doing here anyway? I never took you for the people watching type.”

“That's because I'm not. As if they deserve that much attention.” a hand lazily lifted in the direction of a familiar little boy, the action bringing a smile to the woman’s face.

“Ahhhh. But that one’s the exception? I thought you didn’t like little kids with runny noses, something I heard you have in common with your brother actually. Is that a gumiho thing or a family thing?” the man she addressed turned his head to look at her with an unimpressed look.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much? Or that you ask too many questions?”

“Well considering that was one of the first things you said to me when we met, I’ll just assume you know the answer to that already.”

she turned to look where the man’s gaze had previously been fixed and he followed suit. their eyes moved as they followed the movements of the young boy whose energy seemed to rival that of a puppy’s. ‘how fitting’ was the thought that came to the pair. minutes passed before they changed positions—the girl moving to settle her head on her company’s shoulder. said company shook her off before she repeated the action, leaving her be the second time. and he stayed in place even after she dragged his head to rest upon her own.

“Rang-ah.” the man simply grunted in response, urging her to continue. “I hate this.”

his eyebrows furrowed slightly at the sudden proclamation. “The kids? The families? Parks? I don’t really like them either. The first are messy and demanding, the second is an extremely unrealistic dynamic, and the last are way too loud and crowded.”

“No.” she took in her surroundings before speaking again. “This. I love all of this. I want it all. The kids are adorable and it feels so rewarding to be someone they rely on and look up to. I’ve had my fair share of family drama, but I’ve always wanted my own that I could cherish—pointless fights and all. And parks are probably one of my favorite places because it gives me everything I need to imagine what it’d be like if I had the first two.”

“What?” at her words he lifted his head to look down at her.

“I hate all of this shit that’s going on right now. It was one thing when you were just this occasional menace to your brother, but now the Imugi is involved and Lee Yeon refuses to let Ji Ah go again. It’s caused so many problems and with them, questions to be asked. Things could be so much simpler. Don’t you ever think about what life would be like if we were all human? This would all just be some petty high school drama. Like, Lee Yeon got class president in school and now, years later, both he and Imugi are CEOs competing in the nightclub industry or something like that.”

“You’re starting to sound like Lee Yeon. I guess you’re just as lame as him. Or maybe even lamer because really? That’s the best you can do with this fake drama?”

“Did I ever tell you that I ran into Soo Ho before you got the Tiger’s Brow back from him?” she ignored the questions, but her own annoyed him slightly. before he could respond. “I asked him if I could try them on and walked to the nearest window I could see myself in.”

“So, what’d you see? What were you? A Snake? A rat? Pufferfish?” her only response to his teasing was a pinch to the side. she shook her head before continuing.

“I saw a child.” her face changed to a solemn one. “All I saw was a snot-nosed little kid that the world seemed to have it out for. I didn’t even live long enough to have many firsts. And no one was ever there for the few I did. Well, there was one. Towards the end, I think my final year, I met an old lady. She lived alone, but she took me in the moment we crossed paths. She gave me my own room, let me help her cook, as much as a child could help, and she would always tell me these stories of her husband who had passed about a decade before. In just a few months, that woman gave me what felt like a lifetime of love. All while I was slowly dying, she made me forget the hardships, the neglect, the hatred, and by some cruel fate, she died first. But before she went, she said to me “treat my death as not another result of this terrible world, but take it as a sign that even when we know that our end is inescapable, we are able to cherish the temporary moments in which we are truly happy should we allow ourselves that much.” And so,”

the woman finally lifted her head from the gumiho’s shoulder to look into his eyes. “I think, if I could be reincarnated as a human again, I would. But since it’s probably never gonna happen I want to live like one. Get married, have a family, get mad when someone doesn’t show up for the holidays. I don’t know if I’d make it as a human with everything I know now, and I honestly don’t want to be human right-right now because I probably wouldn’t get to be around you. And I also just can’t imagine how you’d get by without seeing me every day.”

“Don’t act like you’re anything special.” he scoffed and looked back at the playground.

“You don’t have to admit it.” she stood up from the bench, looked over to the young boy he had taken in, and turned back. the woman grabbed his face and, after looking at the man for a few seconds, leaned in. “I know you love me.” and then she ran. “Soo Ho-ah! Let me play with you, that old fox is being mean again!”

“Yah!” he didn’t get up to chase her. she was right no matter how much he thought about it. somehow that weird girl wormed her way into the list of people he more than tolerated. and as he sat alone with his thoughts, he watched her play with the reincarnated boy, the latter seemingly winning their current sword fight.

does he ever wanna be human? no, it seems way too boring. does he like kids? he likes one, so that’s good enough. will he get married at some point? well, it’s just some rings and paper. and it’s not like he isn’t in love with that girl in the park.

bonus;

“Hey, y/n. If you’re watching this then...you know. I figured a couple good deeds might do me well in the afterlife, so what better way than finally letting my brother be with the girl he’s waited hundreds of years for.”

“You crazy bastard.” those were the only words that she could force her mouth to speak as she looked down at the small screen.

“I know you’re probably cursing me right now, thinking ‘this crazy bastard.’” somehow they both managed to let out a chuckle. “You know I don’t like vulgar words, but I’m not there, so i told Soo-Ho to pinch you for me every time one leaves your mouth.”

“Of course you did. It’s already a habit of his now.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. Especially to you, Yu Ri, and Soo-Ho. I didn’t get to say thank you, either. You’ve all helped me more than I’d ever care to admit, but I really am grateful to have shared part of my life with you. I got to help Yu Ri like Lee Yeon helped me, got to meet Blacky again, and I got to experience so many things with you.”

the tears in her eyes were already brimming and it was clear they wouldn’t stay there long. “y/n.” she looked back to the screen as he called her name.

“go to the nightstand on the right of my bed and open the drawer.” the girl got up from her place at the edge of the bed and walked over to the wooden table. with her phone in her left, she used her right to open the drawer, and she could feel her heartbeat stutter as she laid her sights on the black velvet box that sat in it. she reached a shaky hand to pick it up, and when she flipped it open she couldn’t help dropping the phone as she brought the other to her mouth with a choked sob. all she could do was shake her head and let the tears subject themselves to gravity.

“Do you remember that day in the park?” despite not being able to actually see through the endlessly flowing tears, she managed to scramble around and find the device that had slipped from her grasp. “You were talking about all this stuff like marriage, family, kids—what it’d be like to be human because things would be so much simpler. And while I don’t think anyone could ever convince me that being human would be fun, I figured we could at least do some of those human things. We were kind of halfway there, you know? You practically live in my apartment, and Soo-Ho took over the living room with his toys, so it was only a matter of time for him to get his own room so I could stop stepping on legos—maybe get a door with a lock from the outside so I don’t have to worry about waking up covered in stickers.”

she laughed as she recalled the memory, his interactions with the little boy, and their goofy smiles when things were calm for once. “You dorks were made to follow each other into every life.”

“I was gonna propose to you after this whole thing was over. Once I knew Lee Yeon was safe and not being targeted by a wannabe dragon. I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you or...our own kid, though I think the one we have now is pretty great. And I’m also really sorry that I’m finally telling you this once it’s too late, but you were right. About what you said that day.” her breath hitched as she saw the tears glisten while they slid down his face. “I love you.

as if it were clockwork, a sob made its way from her throat and the tears began again.

“Yah, stop crying already. Please. I’d be upset if I was the cause of it.” and she tried, she really did, but it wasn’t as easy as he made it sound. “And, I know this is probably asking a lot for all that I’ve put you through, but can you wear it? At least for a little bit. Just think of it as a way of honoring my memory—the better parts obviously. You can keep my apartment if you want, too. Soo-Ho might be a job better-fit for Sin-Ju and Yu Ri, but if he says he wants to stay with you, you better let him.”

another laugh emitted from between the sobs as she listened to his final message.

“I really do love you, y/n. And if there is ever a chance of us finding each other again, I’ll tell you every chance I get. Anyway, I think it’s time for me to go now. I only have a couple more minutes and I don’t think the others are gonna make it in time. I’m scared if I’m being honest, y/n. I’m afraid of being alone, but you helped me not feel like that all the way up to the end—I finally had a family. So thank you. Love you.” and he smiled his big, child-like smile before adding on, “And don’t tell Lee Yeon I said sorry, or thank you, or I love you that much in under ten minutes.”

and just like that, it was over. no more, dumb family feuds, no more naengmyeon with no eggs because someone would always steal it, no more Lee Rang. she stared at the paused screen for what felt like hours before setting it to the side on the bed, to do as he had asked. carefully,  she took the ring out from the safety of its cushions and slid it onto her left hand. she let out a shaky breath as she stared at her ring finger and she said it back, hoping that somehow, someway, he would hear it. “I love you too, Lee Rang-ah.”

it was a while before she moved from that spot—getting on her feet only to answer the door that had just rung. opening it, she could have seen the man who had taken the place of Lee Rang’s in the living world, but all she saw at that moment was an older brother who had also lost someone he loved.

“Lee Yeon-ah.” it was then that the male finally took in her appearance. she wore jeans, one of his brother’s sweaters, and her hair was in a bun that had clearly seen better days. but what really caught his attention as his eyes traveled, was the black box in her right hand, and shining silver band on her left. then he lifted his eyes back to hers to see just how tired she was. “Lee Yeon-ah. I miss him.”

the man simply brought her into his chest as she sobbed. and she cried, and she cried, and all the while he stood there with her in his embrace. it was all he could do, he couldn’t offer her words of comfort just yet because, even now she may be much stronger than he is. because she’s strong enough to live without the promise of his reincarnation. she knows she may never see him again, but won’t risk exchanging her life just so he won’t go through the same thing.

“I miss him so much.” her voice cracked as the words came out, and he ran his hand over her hair.

“I know, I know. I miss him, too.”

[mittensmorgul]

Since the finale aired, I’ve been yammering on about how it would’ve only worked as a finale to s2, and now that I’m actually rewatching s2, I stand by that even more staunchly. The finale doesn’t work in a post-s2 supernatural universe.

This is the version of Dean we saw in the finale-- the one whose only mission in life was to Save Sammy, to help him get his revenge and allow him to go out and live a Normal Safe Life pretending that hunting and monsters don’t exist. The one who just wanted some pie, to drive his car, and had no real connections beyond Sam in the world outside of Bobby. Even Dean’s characterization in the finale is this far younger Dean who’d never allowed himself to crack open and truly understand love. It would take me years to plow through everything I’ve ever written about him as a character and his long struggle to emotional maturity we saw evolve over the next 13 years beyond this episode, but the tl;dr will always be “this s2 Dean is the same as the Dean in the finale.”

The goal of s2 was saving SAM from his “destiny,” too. In this era of the show, Dean didn’t have a “destiny” the same way Sam did. The ONLY thing that mattered was freeing Sam from “becoming evil,” and being manipulated into terrible things. What Dean wanted, what he was “destined” for by the narrative was irrelevant, because all of his choices and emotional burdens were tied only to saving Sam. To freeing Sam so he could safely return to his “normal life.” Go back to college, have a family and the white picket fence life.

This was before Dean truly began fighting for HIMSELF. Which only really and truly began after he sells his soul to resurrect Sam. That’s when Dean truly begins fighting for himself. Sure, he’s angry with John during s2 for trading his own life for Dean’s, for putting the burden of “if you can’t save Sam, you’ll have to kill him” on his shoulders with his dying breath, but Dean is still fighting against John’s authority and the complicated tangle of feelings of his own childhood and not actually coming to terms with his own wants and needs and wishes out beyond that yet. He’s still unwittingly confronting the “destiny” John had set up for him, and hasn’t moved beyond that yet. It’s only trading his soul for Sam’s that finally brings Dean into the cosmic narrative that will fuel his introspection and personal growth for the rest of the series.

And out beyond that point, his entire character arc explodes into orbit.

Dean’s entire character arc in s3 is confronting this very basic fact: he doesn’t deserve to have been sacrificed just to save Sam. He doesn’t deserve that burden, and he does deserve to live. This is the realization he comes to before eventually being dragged to Hell and then rescued by an angel, who literally tells him, “you don’t think you deserve to be saved” in the aftermath of that. From that point on, we have TWELVE SEASONS of Dean struggling with what he “deserves” versus what is “fate” and “destiny” and eventually confronting what he WANTS if he truly could choose his own destiny.

Plus, out beyond that point, he has Cas. And nothing changes Dean, pushes him to grow and understand himself, and accept himself-- all of himself, from the good to the horrific-- than the pure and unflinching acceptance of Castiel. Cas never looked at him and said “you are evil,” or “you are worthless.” (well, they’ve both said some pretty awful stuff to each other over the years, but there was either brainwashing or other deeper issues pushing those things on them, and they have ALWAYS eventually come back to one another, and the awful stuff was dealt with). Point is, Dean and Cas both began running these parallel arcs of duty versus desire, and for Dean, the duty was always framed around “taking care of Sam” versus pursuing any sort of ambition or goals for himself. They would fight for this for most of the rest of the series, until eventually the goal for ALL of them would be about discovering what they would want for themselves.

The show explicitly dealt with this, repeatedly, over later seasons, asking all of the characters the big questions: is this what you would choose for yourself? What WOULD you choose for yourself if you could?

And then they made the narrative of the final season, of the final Big Bad, the fact that they had NEVER had real freedom, and that their entire lives (and the entire history of not only this universe but every parallel universe) had been Chuck’s Puppet Theater, and true free will had been a lie all this time. Pushing all of the characters to confront their own choices and understand what about who they were as people was separate from what Chuck pushed them into choosing and doing all these years. The main thing that Dean (and also Cas, and to the extent she was included in the narrative this was Eileen’s issue as well) were being pushed to come to terms with what really was real, and were their feelings and choices their own or imposed on them for the furtherance of Chuck’s story.

At the end of the road, finally free and out from under Chuck’s control, they knew what was real. For Sam and Eileen, they had chosen each other. Cas had chosen Dean, but Dean hadn’t yet had a chance to reply, but anyone with two eyes and a brain knows what he would’ve said in return. It’s what Cas stopped him from saying even back in Purgatory in 15.09. And yet, for some reason Sam and Dean forgot all of that, as if none of it had ever even really happened at all, and we went right back to who they were right after they finally defeated the YED, before we even knew Azazel had a name, let alone the fact that the ultimate boogeyman of their entire lives to that point had been nothing more than a fanatic pawn in a much larger destiny for both of them.

The end of s2 was the last time Dean sacrificing himself so Sam could have a normal life, where Dean really felt there was nothing more for himself than fulfilling his father’s orders to save Sammy, even feels remotely plausible. It’s the last time we can feel like Dean might find peace and contentment in a Heaven where John is nearby to be proud of him, and where Dean would actually feel like that validation was even relevant to his own life.

And that finally brings me back to s2, where that was actually addressed through John’s self-sacrifice to save Dean, to serve Dean up to the narrative and provide a stage for this self-transformative journey INTO being a version of John himself. Only... Dean DOESN’T choose that. He fights to save Sam at all costs, even when it seems clear that the right answer would probably be to KILL Sam instead. When not only the ghost of John Winchester plaguing Dean’s mind would make him doubt his own drive to save his brother, but the John Winchester Insert Character of s2-- Gordon Walker-- basically put Dean’s own doubts out there in plain words in 2.10:

GORDON: I'm surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was going to turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?

DEAN: That's not Sam.

GORDON: Yes it is. You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's his destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you. But here's the thing. It would wreck him. But your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me you're not the man he is?

This, the episode where Dean finally confesses John’s final orders to Sam, where Dean has decided that saving Sam is all that matters, even when circumstance and everyone else is practically screaming at him that this could all be over if only he gave in-- be it his own self-sacrifice OR killing Sam. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, the universe doesn’t care (and neither does Chuck... especially at this point... and the proof of that is Sam’s s15 nightmares where one of Chuck’s alternate universe endings for Sam and Dean was Sam actually going Darkside on demon blood and killing Dean... any iteration of the old drama, Chuck has explored all potential endings-- oh, except the ending where TFW gets to just be happy and live... that’s the one ending they never get and the only one they deserved in the end).

also from 2.10... loads of chat about “destiny” and one of Dean’s first “we should just lay all this shit down and take a vacation” moments when he suggests they go to Amsterdam and enjoy some of the not-coffee-coffee-shops, which Sam counters by doubling down on the fact that Dean has a destiny in all this as much as Sam does:

SAM: Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do.

DEAN: Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything, I don't believe in that destiny crap.

SAM: You mean you don't believe in my destiny.

DEAN: Yeah, whatever.

SAM: Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me.

DEAN: I can try.

And that’s it, right there. This is the “neither of you can try for a normal life outside of the other while the other is still alive.” This is Sam pinning a destiny to Dean that’s just as inescapable within Chuck’s narrative as Sam’s demon blood and psychic powers. 

This is the core essence of Chuck’s story about them. The sibling dynamic that Chuck failed to free himself from, and that Sam and Dean failed to free themselves from after Chuck’s demise in 15.19.

Destiny. One must die so the other can live.

And considering the next 13 seasons of the show and the long and emotionally grueling character arcs Sam and Dean proceed through where they truly confront the core of who they are as people-- as individuals outside of their duty and destiny-- the finale ceases to make any sense outside of Chuck’s narrative for them. If 15.20 really happened exactly as we saw it on screen, then Chuck still won.

And they had to loop Sam and Dean all the way back to where they were emotionally at the end of s2 in order to make it seem plausible. Which, for those of us who actually care about what they endured after s2, makes the finale entirely implausible as a whole.

[wonda-cat]

You mentioned rewriting that one analysis post on Tommy’s revival stream and I’d really look forward to it! I never got to read the full og post and that’s the only place I saw these takes. Especially the one about the afterlife being too depressing. It’s not even just about Tommy, the implication that even if every character is safe and happy by the end, this is their inevitable fate is messed up. It’s not “a neat subversion” it’s just depressing and doesn’t add anything.

Hey, anon!

I sorta decided to not rewrite it? I feel a bit differently about the essay in the end, although I still believe in most of my points. I’m also just not nearly as passionate about it as I was when I wrote it (I finished it in a single sitting, which was... interesting.) However, yes, the afterlife stuff still bothers me just the same, as well as the odd changes to Wilbur’s characterization... post mortem.

But—just for you, anon—here’s the entire meta-analysis essay anyway, with some minor edits to the stuff I don’t agree with anymore!

My Many Narrative Issues with Tommyinnit’s Revival Stream

I want to preface this by saying that I dearly love the Dream SMP and understand it isn’t exactly comparable to other mediums like TV and film. With this being the case, most criticism against it is generally in bad faith or strange in foundation. Complaining about streamers for bad acting is the best example that comes to mind. 

These aren’t professional actors. Most have never acted in this sort of setting, or even at all. Quite a few have admitted to never roleplaying before. Which is why it’s warranted to praise Tommy, Dream, Wilbur, Ranboo, and others when they deliver stellar performances. The same applies to criticism of music choice, dialogue delivery, focus, tone, etc. 

However, one such category I cannot overlook is in regards to its writing. The writing of a story is its entire foundation. It encompasses many things—conflict choice, character development, themes, and morals. The author creates the blueprints for the architect, who then expresses the story with light, sound, color, pacing, and music. It is in its execution that we see if this connection is made or broken. 

The reason I find poor writing mostly inexcusable is because it is one of the most available skills to practice and perfect. I don’t mean to say that it’s easy, I mean to say it is something anyone can attempt to cultivate. Whether they do it well or not depends on their methods and experience. If anyone can self-publish a novel and be criticized online for its quality—and even compared to the works of Mark Twain—then I find critiquing the writing of the Dream SMP to be perfectly reasonable. 

However, since the Dream SMP script is a set of loose bullet points, tearing apart dialogue and scene continuity—which is nearly all improv—is rather useless. It doesn’t exactly have a clear focus as the plot plays out. The characters talk in circles until they hit the story beat required, and then they move onto the next. Thus, when criticizing it, one should generally critique grand events and narrative-specific shifts, more so than small-scale character interactions. 

Which brings me to my main point: The broad narrative choices taken in Tommyinnit’s most recent livestream, ‘Am I dead?’ may lead to disastrous writing pitfalls in the future. 

I’ll be outlining each of my issues below, in hopes of creating a better understanding as to why I feel this way. 

This might become quite lengthy, so please bear with me for a bit.

Tommy’s relationship to Wilbur has flipped. This change is jarring and seems out of character.

Tommy and Wilbur’s friendship is rather complicated. While Wilbur does care for Tommy immensely, especially during the L’Manburg Revolution and the Election Arc, his mental spiral during exile put a massive strain on their relationship as a whole. Wilbur brushed off Tommy’s feelings and wants, while clinging to him and pushing everyone else away. He was simultaneously distant and suffocating. 

Tommy, on the other hand, has an unclear view of his mentor. Since the beginning, and even long after Wilbur’s death, Tommy held him in especially high regard. He saw him as a brother-figure and a wise leader. He followed what he said and did everything he could to impress him. Yet, Wilbur still hurt him while the two were together in exile. 

When speaking of him, Tommy tends to flip infrequently between remembering Wilbur the way he was before his mental decline and thinking of him as a monster. Both of these images conflict with each other, but they weren’t nearly as extreme as what Tommy described Wilbur as when he was revived from death. The fear Tommy displays to Wilbur is beyond intense—it feels as if the audience may have missed a month’s worth of character development. 

This can make sense, especially since it was stated that he’d spent what felt like two months in the void. However, this shift is still deeply at odds with Tommy’s previous impressions of Wilbur, which is both disheartening and confusing. The fact that Tommy would agree to stay with Dream—his abuser and murderer—over his past mentor is simply head-reeling. It paints a very different picture of Wilbur’s character, somewhat conforming to the fandom’s ableist impression of him—the idea that Wilbur is insane and irredeemable, and always will be. 

It also ignores Dream being the driving factor in Wilbur’s downfall, as well as the double-bind deal with Dream which required him to push the button, no matter the outcome. Others have pointed out that Tommy may be lying to get Dream to bring Wilbur back, and there’s compelling evidence for that. For one, Tommy and Wilbur’s conversation seemed uncomfortable, but it was certainly nothing like Tommy implied. (Unless this fear comes from something Wilbur said off-screen.) 

Tommy also begged Dream to not bring him back multiple times over, which he should know would make Dream even more tempted to, simply because he likes seeing Tommy in pain. Tommy is also a known unreliable narrator. He may be making Wilbur out to be worse than he is by accident (even still, I’d argue this is a bit of a stretch.) 

However, there are some issues with this theory. Tommy offered himself as payment to Dream if he chose to let Wilbur rest. This is a deal Tommy knows Dream is extremely unlikely to refuse. Tommy is what Dream has coveted all this time. If Tommy genuinely wanted Wilbur back, he would not offer this. This sort of compromise is Tommy’s greatest nightmare—something he would only do in response to his friends being threatened or his home being destroyed. 

To add, Tommy is not great at lying. Unless he was taught by Wilbur for those two months* in the afterlife, there’s no chance Tommy would be this good at it. Thirdly, Tommy is terrible under pressure. He uses humor to cope. When he can’t, he cries and shouts and spills his heart out. While cornered, Tommy will tell the truth about anything, especially if Dream casually debates killing him again, just for fun. 

For now, it’s too early to tell how the relationship shift will play out. In the grand scheme of things, this issue is rather minor.

Season three’s writing is needlessly bleak. The portrayal of the afterlife is a nightmare. There is no rest, not even in death.

I adore the Dream SMP storyline in its entirety. I believe the first season is fantastic, and while the second season has some narrative clarity issues, I enjoyed it just as much. Although, I would argue season one had a more concrete understanding of its Hope-Conflict balance. 

To briefly explain, the Hope in stories are its ‘highs’ and good moments. These appear when a character the audience is rooting for is narratively rewarded. They happen during character building in the text—it’s the downtime and peace that allows for connection and relatability. It’s a moment for the viewer to breathe easy. 

The other half is Conflict, an obstacle in the story that gets in the way of the main characters’ goals, beliefs, and motives. These are the ‘lows.’ They give the narrative focus and weight. They make the highs feel even higher. They establish consequences and force the characters in the story to change in order to adapt and overcome them. 

I bring up the Hope-Conflict balance because a traditional hero’s journey would have an appropriate amount of both. Their highs and lows are generally equalized, as the name suggests. However, this balance has been awkwardly skewed in the latter half of season two and in the current plot of season three. To clarify, it is perfectly reasonable, and even common, for some stories to tip the scale more to one side. 

But a common mistake for amateur writers is to create their stories as either hopelessly dark to cause the audience continuous distress for the sake of distress, or to keep everything entirely conflict-free for most of the plot. What do these both have in common? They each make the story boring and predictable. 

Season three has taken this concept and thrown a monstrously heavy weight onto the Conflict side and flipped the scale so hard it has crashed through the ceiling. The viewers are hardly given time to find any joy in Tommy’s character, as he’s thrown into yet another abusive situation, just barely after his first narrative reward. The world is painted as relentlessly violent and traumatic. 

Every person Tommy meets is morally grey, unhinged, or out to hurt him. Everything most of the characters love is taken from them by those in positions of power. Ranboo cannot even grieve properly because it scars his face. Puffy, Sam, Ranboo, and Tubbo all blame themselves for what happened to Tommy. 

The audience watches lore stream after lore stream with the same depressing tone (with the exception of Tubbo’s, but I assume that’s unintentional.) Tommy is revived after being brutally beaten to death by his abuser, surrounded by all of his greatest fears. The afterlife is revealed to be akin to inescapable torture. It’s a colorless void that wraps the individual like fabric. 

Time moves thirty times slower within. There’s nothing—nothing but the voices of others who’ve passed on before him. Dying in a world already devoid of happiness takes the characters to a place worse than hell. When a narrative delivers unfair suffering to the entire cast without a moment of joy to speak of, the story will feel simultaneously overwhelming and pointless. 

Why watch characters suffer when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel? What happiness could they strive for when we know they’ll never get to keep it? How can I be satisfied with a good ending, if I know that an afterlife too terrible to name is what awaits them, truly, at the end of their story? Death isn’t even a white void that offers rest—it is eternal torment. 

Obviously, it isn’t a good message to send by making the afterlife seem like a quiet, perfect place or an escape from pain. But making it an unspeakable anguish which awaits, assumedly, every character who will die in the future? I deeply hope Tommy was only being an extremely unreliable narrator. 

More likely, I hope the place Tommy was taken to was a Limbo of sorts, not an end-all-be-all destination for everyone.

The degree of Tommy’s narrative punishment continues to escalate, to an almost absurd degree.

Tommy is one of the most tragic characters to exist in the storyline. He was sent into war at a young age and experienced two traumatic events during it. He was exiled by the newly elected leader and witnessed his mentor Wilbur spiral and break down with paranoia. Tubbo is executed publicly in front of him. When expressing rightful anger at the person who murdered him, he’s beaten nearly to death and never receives an apology. 

Schlatt dies right in front of Tommy, after his initial refusal to hurt the ex-president. His brother-figure and mentor is killed in assisted suicide on the same day his nation is blown up. His best friend exiles him from his home for the second time. He routinely self-sacrifices to protect his country and those who live there. His most treasured possessions were taken from him and he was called selfish for trying to retrieve them (although his methods were self-destructive and volatile.) 

He was pushed to the brink of suicide after being relentlessly abused and isolated in his exile. He was horrified when he thought he was responsible for drowning Fundy. After making an objectively good decision to stand by his old friends and change for the better, his country was obliterated by the man he once idolized, his father-figure, and his abuser. 

He was left scattered and without purpose for many days. Then he fights against Dream and loses, while also reliving his trauma. He watches Tubbo almost die at the hands of someone he once thought was his friend. He doesn’t tell a single person about what happened to him in exile. The day he tries to sever his connection to Dream and heal, he’s trapped with him for a week, surrounded by everything that terrifies him. 

He threatens to kill himself, speaking about his own life as if it were an object—something to hold over Dream’s head. He blames himself for everything bad that’s ever happened to L’Manburg and his friends—internalizing a mentality as a scapegoat for everyone around him. He is forced into the role of ‘hero’ despite the title being unfair and distressing to him.

As if that weren’t enough, he’s then beaten to death by his abuser and spends what feels like two months in an afterlife that is worse than hell. When he returns, his senses are excessively heightened. Dream can cause him excruciating pain, just by pinching him. He can send Tommy into an instant panic attack, just by raising his voice. 

The punishment Tommy’s character receives is a thousand times worse than everyone he has ever met, or ever will meet. And it shows no signs of stopping, as Dream now has control over Tommy’s very mortality. Tommy now fears the slightest damage and feels as if he’s losing his best friend all over again. He is also forced into a position where he has to kill Dream out of necessity, to protect everyone he cares about.

Characters need fitting punishments in relation to their actions. Not always, but in order to be satisfying? Yes, they do. It is preferred that a main character deal with unfair situations and difficult conflicts, but this is borderline torture p*rn. Putting Tommy in these distressing and abusive situations on repeat and punishing him for doing objectively moral or healthy things is exhausting to watch. 

To quickly add, I find the general insinuation of Tommy going to hell distasteful, especially considering the contents of his storyline. I know this may be hard to believe, but Tommy is one of the most moral characters in the plot, besides Puffy and Ghostbur. He’s also the only character, followed by Ranboo, to recognize that they can be wrong and make mistakes. He changed himself in order to heal and be a better person. He was in the process of paying people back for the things he’d stolen. 

He’s learned to be hard-working and less violent through the guidance of Sam. He has apologized to everyone he’s ever hurt (with the exception of Jack Manifold, because that man is allergic to communication.) He puts himself in harm's way to protect others. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt anyone. He goes out of his way to make connections with people and maintain them, even if others don’t reciprocate. 

He’s hopelessly optimistic, despite his outwardly bitter façade. He loved so much and put meaning into the smallest things. The thought that a person like him—a suicide and abuse survivor—would go to hell after being beaten to death by the man who took everything from him; it makes me sick to my stomach. 

The only thing more morbid than Tommy’s afterlife being different than everyone else’s, is the concept that everyone will end up in this same eternal torture, no matter what they do. Take your pick: Tommy is sentenced to anguish until the end of time for no reason, or everyone will receive the same disturbing ending, regardless of their actions.

The narrative weight of Ranboo’s character is potentially out the window.

For the past few months, I’ve watched all of Ranboo’s lore streams faithfully, curious to see what role he would play in the future. His ‘hallucinations’ of Dream seemed to be sowing the seeds for a plot that has Ranboo taking the fall for every single insidious thing Dream has done. It would also be a tragic parallel to Tommy’s trial. 

Ranboo being convinced he was the one who blew up the community house, when Dream himself admitted to doing it, was one of the bigger indicators for me. This is just one of many other unexplained occurrences. Dream seemed to be making an effort to trigger and control Ranboo, especially after Sapnap’s prison visit. It appeared, from the way he went about this, that Dream had some grand use for Ranboo as part of his plan to be freed from Pandora’s Vault. 

However, after Tommy’s stream, the way Dream explains himself makes it seem like there was no plan besides seeing if the book worked on people. And if he didn’t after all, then what was Ranboo for? Was Ranboo unimportant? Was Ranboo just some weirdo who happened to phase out when seeing smiley faces and imagined conversations that may or may not have happened? 

I bring this up more as a worry, and much less so as an active problem in the narrative. They haven’t actually thrown Ranboo to the way-side or written themselves into a corner yet. In future streams, this could very easily be explained away or developed as more information is revealed. 

Only time will tell.

The potential for Wilbur’s future development and importance to the plot is unfeasible.

I feel as if I am the only person on earth who doesn’t want Wilbur Soot or Schlatt revived. There are many reasons for this, but one of them is not a dislike for these characters. I especially adore Wilbur, as he’s one of my all-time favorites. I don’t want either of them resurrected because their stories have already been told. They each had a fitting conclusion that ended their involvement perfectly. 

Bringing Wilbur back would especially cheapen the impact of the War of the 16th. It’s the end of a man who was brought to the absolute edge and out of desperation, shame, and self-hatred, he destroyed himself alongside his creation. Bringing him back would leave the climax of the previous story hollow. My biggest issue, however, is that a lack of story importance would likely follow his return. 

The only real impact I’d like to see is through a healing arc with Tommy, an apology to Fundy, or a confrontation with Phil/Niki. But that’s really all the potential I can realistically see. While I don’t doubt Wilbur as an agent of chaos, able to create plot out of thin air; what is he going to do now? His country is gone, his friends and family are scattered about, and his mission from the 16th is already accomplished. 

What is a well-educated, charismatic politician supposed to do in a world already broken and without nations? Read poetry to himself and cry evilly? However, this is working off the assumption that Wilbur would be returning as his old self. 

If Wilbur is resurrected as a ‘villain’ of sorts, then what? He’s not good at fighting in the slightest. He would have no materials. There are no real allies he can make, other than the arctic group. On top of that, there are already more than enough villains to last a lifetime. 

We don’t need any more, I promise. Quackity seems to already be shaping up as another antagonist, alongside Sam’s slip into darker and darker shades of moral ambiguity. We also have Philza and Techno, which are already overkill. But then we have Dream who, despite being in a prison, has the ability of selective revival. This is mercilessly overpowered, especially if he makes many allies. The dude could just bring his dead friends back so they can keep fighting forever. 

Then there’s Jack Manifold and the Crimson followers; Antfrost, Bad, and Punz. That’s not even including characters who are refusing to get involved. How are Tommy, Tubbo, and Puffy expected to do literally anything to fight back?

Dream’s experiment on Tommy implies he had no backup plan to begin with. This makes his character seem both short-sighted and foolish.

When Tommy woke up after being brought back to life, Dream sounded surprised that the revival worked at all. This instantly shatters the perception that Dream was highly intelligent and thought ahead. With just a few lines of dialogue, it’s implied that Dream killed Tommy, unsure of if the resurrection would even be possible on humans. 

Which, to risk something that important, seems unbelievably stupid. Dream needs Tommy, from his perspective. Tommy is his ‘toy,’ the one who makes everything fun. If he lost him and couldn’t get him back, what then? Oh well, everything Dream was doing was all for nothing, I guess. 

Why not attempt this experiment on literally anyone else first? Like Sapnap or Bad or, hell, even Ranboo. I suppose it could be that, as soon as Dream got the book, he experimented with it after the 16th. This appears to be insinuated with Friend and Hendry’s revival, although this is uncertain. But even then, he was still unsure of the book’s effect on a human being.

Also, this means, hypothetically, Dream’s entire plan of escape hinged on the experiment working, to begin with, and also on bringing back Wilbur if it somehow did. I find this even more ridiculous. Why Wilbur? That man couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, let alone get through the traps in Pandora’s Vault. Even if he is intelligent after years* in the afterlife, that’s also a strange assumption. 

How do people learn things in the void? Where do they even get this knowledge? I’d honestly argue Techno is a far more competent choice than Wilbur. And even if Dream did bring him back and tell him he owed him his life, what’s to stop Wilbur from just killing him permanently? Or killing himself, continuously? 

No way would Wilbur want to be controlled by anyone, ever. The dude would sooner fuck off into the mountains and become a nomad than help a neon green bodysuit cosplay as Light Yagami.

Dream’s discussion about Sam implies that he wasn't playing any part in Dream’s plan, making Sam appear entirely incompetent and neglectful of Tommy.

Dream talked about Sam in a way that seems detached and unaffiliated. He also mentioned him being broken up about Tommy’s fate and not being aware he’s still alive. Dream not being partnered with, or not using Sam in his plan leaves many plot holes. I’ll go through each one. The initial incident was an explosion, coming from the roof of Pandora’s Vault. This did not affect the Redstone mechanism for the doors or dispensers. 

Meaning, Sam could’ve had Tommy leave the way that was expected for visitors after he investigated and found no issues. This likely couldn’t have been done in less than a day, but it would be better than an entire week. If Tommy was required to stay for longer, due to protocol, he could’ve gotten Tommy out and then placed him in one of the minor cells for the remainder of the time. 

Also, no one else lost a canon life for leaving via the splash potion of harming and returning outside the maximum-security cell; why would Tommy? To add, Sam being uninvolved means that the explosion could have only been caused by Ranboo or Foolish. That, or it was placed long before and timed for the moment Tommy entered the main cell. (I’m going to ignore how ludicrous it is that someone would know the exact time Tommy would’ve entered the room with Dream.) 

If Ranboo was the person behind the detonation, this implies he was necessary for Dream to kill Tommy to test the book. But that makes it even stranger. If this was Dream’s goal all along, why not kill Tommy the instant he was trapped with him? It makes no sense for him to wait so long. 

Sam is also directly at fault for not letting Tommy out, even after the week was up. There was no reason not to. He already knew there were no issues with the prison at that point. Although, to be fair to Sam, his character may have been paranoid and checking everything more than necessary, just in case. But this still isn’t a good excuse for him ignoring protocol in this one instance, and yet, not in any of the others. 

All of these plot holes or inconsistencies would be removed if it was revealed that Dream was blackmailing Sam in some way, or Sam had been working with him since the get-go. That Sam was the person who set off the explosion in the first place to trap Tommy inside. It would also explain Sam’s refusal to let Tommy out and by keeping him in there for longer than necessary. 

This can also coexist with Sam’s attachment and care for Tommy. He probably wasn’t told about Dream’s plan to test the book and genuinely believed Dream wouldn’t hurt him. On top of that, Dream is known to be a pathological liar, so his statements about Ranboo and Sam could be entire fabrications. 

Who knows?

The Book of Revival invalidates death entirely. The narrative now lacks both tension and consequence.

Another way the Dream SMP differs from other storytelling media is in the way it goes about its character deaths. In a TV show, for example, there will be characters who die just because, or when it’s important to the plot. However, it seems as if the Dream SMP is hesitant to commit to killing its characters. And there are many reasons for that. 

The most important one being, killing someone’s character excludes them from the story and some of their livelihoods depend on them regularly streaming on the server. There is also the issue of the cast becoming extremely sparse if characters keep dying. Typically, in stories, when you kill a character, you should introduce another. 

This keeps the cast from dwindling as the storyline goes on. This means the writers would have to find new streamers to join, who will develop their own characters and relationships with the plot’s continued momentum. This can be stressful and daunting to those who may be newly added in the future. 

Keeping this in mind, the Book of Revival is annoying from a writer’s perspective. When death is no longer an issue for a story hinged on its characters’ mortality, then what do you have as a consequence anymore? We’ve explored every kind under the sun; from abuse, to betrayal, to loss, to destruction. 

In stories, traditionally, death is a finality. It’s a conclusion. Whether it’s good or not depends on the character’s actions, its build-up, and the event’s execution. Without this lingering sense of danger, tension evaporates from the story. 

Why should I care if Tommy loses in a fight to someone, if he’ll just come back a day later? Why should I care about what happened to Wilbur, if he just returns as if nothing happened? The answer is simple: I won’t. I will no longer care if Tubbo or Ranboo or Sam die in the story, because the idea of revival even being a possible outcome leaves me unenthused and uncaring. 

The Dream SMP likes to flirt with death. It teases the demise of its main characters many, many times. More so Tommy’s than anyone else’s. Wilbur’s failed resurrection, which had unforeseen and unfortunate outcomes, is now strange in comparison to Tommy’s, which happened without a hitch. 

To be fair, we actually don’t see how many attempts it took. But here’s the problem; Dream could do it without the book being physically present. He’s trapped in a prison with nothing on him, meaning he doesn’t need any materials either. It’s also implied he could do this as many times as he feels, for anyone he wants. This would be exceedingly overpowered, if not for one thing—Dream himself is mortal (at least, I fucking hope he’s mortal.) 

If someone kills him one last time, that knowledge is gone forever. And I’m glad they’ve established at least some way for Tommy to win. Because at this point, I was losing faith. 

There is also the bare minimum establishment that Dream can refuse to bring back those he doesn’t care for. He can also use it as a shield, holding this power over other people. If Dream is gone, death is permanent. But isn’t that how death is supposed to be, anyway? 

What a bleak premise—the afterlife is pure eternal torture while life is cheapened by a lack of consequences.

Conclusion

All this to say, I am cautiously optimistic for the future. I hope dearly that every single one of these can be disproven or developed in the coming livestreams. Obviously, there’s not enough information to really determine what the end result will be, or how everything will fall into place. 

Every time I have theorized about the story, it has done something completely different and pleasantly surprised me. I want this trend to continue. 

Surprise me again—I’ll be here to see where it goes.

[jediofbooksandsnacks]

wounds

Each scar has a story to tell.

also on AO3

This is set after Kogami returns to Japan after Sinners of the System Case 3. Season 3 had not debuted when I wrote this, uhm, some time ago.

all my thanks to @whatsyourcolor, @sandypenguin6 and @saber-of-dreams for their beta reading skills. All mistakes are mine, and I’m not a medical professional so please tell me if I mixed anything up, yes?

~

The wan morning sunlight drew Shinya from restless sleep. The palm of his hand rubbed over his eyes as he blinked slowly awake, his legs shifting beneath the yellow sheets in the still bedroom. Everything around him waited, as though it had caught its breath in anticipation of something soon to happen.

He dropped his hand.

The clock said it was too fucking early for this.

Next to him, Akane slept with an unburdened face. Nothing pulled her mouth tight, nothing caught her brow and then vanished when he glanced at her. This waiting game was slowly driving him crazy, but he couldn’t push her. Not on this.

He sighed. Ran a hand through his messy hair, ran his tongue over his teeth. A deep breath had him sitting up, sheets falling to his waist. The bed squeaked as his feet met the floor and he rolled his shoulder to work out a kink as the nail marks she’d left behind twinged on his back. On the way to the bathroom, he picked up his abandoned boxer briefs.

Their night had been lustful, and he couldn’t remember when he’d tossed them aside and had buried himself in her, in her scent and her body. Time stopped when he was with her and he didn’t yet know if it was a blessing or a curse. The spigot washed soap from his hands over the low hum of water refilling the toilet. Their toothbrushes were in the holder, hers looked like she needed a new one. He spat the toothpaste out, rinsed. Decided to shave later. The cotton of his boxers was loose around his legs as he returned to the bedroom.

She’d shifted while he was in there. One foot draped off of the bed and her face was buried in a pillow, her mouth opened on a small snore. A print book was on her nightstand and a glass of water stood next to it, blurring the digital time on her clock. The bubble they created together, a place where their daily responsibilities were laid outside the door, slid through his thoughts as he lay back down next to the sleeping curve of her body.

A mole stood out against her pale skin, just beneath her left shoulder blade. Gentle fingers ran across it, trailing down the naked skin of her back. In sleep she rolled over and settled against him and the pillows, her brown hair falling across her face. It was soft as he brushed it back. The smell of chemical apples lifted from her shampoo filled his nose as he kissed her forehead.

The sharpness of her eyes, the curl of her hair tucked under her ear, the slope of her shoulder in the night; he wanted to fix this in his memory, the entirety of Akane, to recall in the long nights he knew were ahead.

In a few minutes she stirred and woke. The exhalation of her breath made goosebumps prickle his skin as her eyes blinked open to meet his. Flashes of a hundred things ran through her look, and he was struck by the fact that they could discover something new each morning ahead until they were old and gray and faced that last, final discovery; if he could only ask her. If they had that luxury. One hand touched his chest as she lifted herself and kissed his shoulder with her tired mouth. As she sat up, she gave out a jaw-cracking yawn while the sheets fell back and dim morning light caught on the smooth skin of scar tissue healed on her upper abdomen.

Evidence of the night before was in the bite mark on her shoulder, the hickey bruising her right breast.

“Be back in a minute,” she said sleepily and kissed him again before she got up to go to the bathroom. The fluid lines of her back bent as she picked up her own underwear and then closed the door behind her.

When the door clicked shut he lay back, his hand beneath his head. It was a struggle to still his mind and think of nothing.

The expectation of violence had been his life, as an enforcer and then as a guerrilla. Wars had been his purpose, and he was prepared at any moment to sacrifice himself for the good of something greater. But nothing, nothing at all, had prepared him for the way he’d died last night in her arms.

Soulmates, his destiny, the One; he hated that take. It was thoughtless. Regressive. It wholesale shattered the fire and blood and meaning each person struggled with to make a life worth sharing and replaced it with a ridiculous trick of fate. But that wanting hit on something as-of-yet unspoken between them. Something that was, for all of its ups and downs, inescapably true.

The bathroom door opened and her footsteps shuffled across the carpet. The bed did not sink quite so far as she slid into it again and curled her arms around his torso and managed to tangle her legs through his. One hand drew an absent line down his chest, and then back up, as her breath tickled his skin and her face settled flush against his neck. Cotton met his hand as it settled on her hip. Yawning again, her breath now minty fresh, she murmured, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” he said. Fingers traced up and down her back, making slow, steady progress.

She hummed. The midday deadline for his departure loomed in front of them and manifested in the ceaseless motion of her hands against the contours of his skin. Will they ever be free of the System and its demands on their attention, on their hard work, and on their sacrifices? Her fingers settled into a circle on his side, tracing from his hip to his ribcage and back again. Both of them handing in their resignations and retiring to a house in the countryside, like Saiga, almost made him mention it to her. But that hadn't ended so well for him, had it?

Absently, she kissed his chest.

Understanding their jobs and saying goodbye were two different things.

“When did you get this?” His hand skimmed across the puckered skin on her side, just beneath her ribcage. Dominators were her judge and occasional jury, but this looked like—

“I got shot while we were making an arrest.” Her hand curled in the center of his chest. “I was glad that Gino was there to pursue while Hinakawa radioed for help.”

Of course it was Gino. Gino and his steady presence, manifesting his own guardian enforcer version of Dime. For whatever else was going on, for whatever bullshit Gino was going through, Shinya knew that Gino would have been tempted to end those assholes for hurting Akane.

Gino’s one problem was that he fell into the trap of being Iago’s green-eyed monster. But Gino’s feelings towards Akane were that of an older brother looking out for little sis, and that hadn’t changed. Masaoka’s own role suited him, though Shinya was leery of saying that. Their healing relationship was still sometimes contentious.

“He’s a good friend,” she carried on, “though he’s always trying to be a warrior.” The motion of her hands on his skin made him shiver; she traced one of his scars with gentle fingers.

“You seem to attract them.” The conversation he’d had with Hanashiro many months ago resounded in his head.

Eyes bright with knowing insight sparkled in her otherwise obviously controlled and clearly quite serious face which was in absolutely no way fighting a smile. “Detective instincts.”

A more secure him would not draw her close and kiss her. A more secure him would not fight a battle with himself about any of this, hue be damned. A more secure him would say the hell with it and ask her to--

(Still.)

One of her legs came high, her warm knee brushing the hair on his thigh as they lost themselves in a long, slow kiss. When it ended, her hands fell into her habit of retracing his scars. The bullet slash on his neck, the deep cut on his chest, the mottled skin of a one on his side that had healed slowly and needed better medicine than they had available.

“I can feel that,” he said to break the silence, “but at a remove.” Her waiting eyes watched him, so many questions looming unanswered between them.

“I know.” Fingers splayed over the wound, briefly erasing the mark from their sight. Beneath the warmth of her hand, though, he felt that dead zone, that place holding his marked history. Only parts of that story had come out since he’d been back, something he felt almost a pull to tell her and bring reality back to their plastic and Hue-cleared world. Someday he’d tell her more. But not now.

He threaded his fingers through hers. Kissed them. The sorrow in her smile held grace as she laid her head on his shoulder.

Could he turn time back to that first click of the loaded gun? Does the passage of time only heal wounds, or set them in deeper? And how can you find absolution when each morning dawned on a fresh battle with your own demons?

He’d met people like that. He fought back against it every day.

Shinya buried his nose in her hair, inhaling lab-created apples once more. Fingers ran over her back as he set those thoughts aside as he murmured, “I’m not dead yet, you know.”

Contrite, she hummed. “Are my thoughts that clear?”

“I know you.”

“You do,” she sighed. “Then I’ll see you when you return.”

“Only if you make the same promise.”

Her nose pressed into his neck, her mouth gave him a light kiss beneath his jugular. One hand slid down to her hips while the other traced her back, his own body responding to having her so close. The curve of Akane’s hip sloped down beneath his hand, and on his way back up he brushed his fingers over her stomach and abdomen and between her breasts before he brought them to her jaw. Ran his knuckles along her cheek, kissed her nose.

Trust and worry warred there and something deeper. Darker. But there was nothing they could say unless they opened her own tightly closed doors.

And how could he push through them, when his own had opened barely a crack?

Her face was only inches from his own when he caught her lips in a kiss.

Notes:

[away-from-anthills]

chapter five-

He recalled what Tatteredstar had said at the last Gathering as Whitetooth’s words echoed throughout his heart.

Rosefire. He had done little wrong- in his eyes, the only hope for a future was the Clans united. In his eyes, Tatteredstar and Eelwhisker were enemies that had to be vanquished. And yet his attempt at rebellion was gone as soon as it began, like a hare plucking and eating a sprout from the ground. He was killed, or at least that was what Tatteredstar’s dark tone implied, and as far as Antstar knew those who worked with him were likely either on close watch or driven out entirely. He presented a weakness and a challenge to her leadership, and so she handily dispatched him.

But could he say the same of Sparkthistle?

There was no indication she was to actually plan something. There was no indication she had the willpower to truly try to stop Antstar. But every so often, there was this inescapable look in her eye of hatred, and every time Antstar caught it he felt sick.

Would the Clan be better off without her?

Antstar had been just made a warrior when Sparkthistle and Cherrycloud had been born. Their mother was one of the most respected warriors in her Clan at the time, and she had great expectations thrust upon her two daughters. Initially, she adored Sparkkit the most, as Sparkkit had ambitions that Cherrykit did not. She made her favoritism shockingly clear, despite the warnings of Crowflower. But as time went on, when the two mollies were apprenticed, Cherrypaw emerged the more naturally gifted one while Sparkpaw struggled. Their mother’s opinions on them flipped dramatically. Now it was Cherrycloud that could do no wrong, Cherrycloud that deserved all the love in the world; Sparkthistle was a candy wrapper, read once and then discarded. Sparkthistle had been deeply embittered ever since- part of it from cynicism, and part of it because she wanted to emulate her mother to some extent.

It wouldn’t be fair to deny Sparkthistle the rest of her life, to cut her off short. But she had been this way ever since she was an apprentice, and there was no sign she would ever change. But it was as if Whitetooth’s words had bored a hole in his skull. And Sparkthistle is never going to get better, either.

“You’re thinking about what warrior name you want to give me, aren’t you,” said a cheeky voice as Antstar left his thoughts and sunk back to earth. It was Spiderpaw, looking back at him as she sprang into the grasses.

“You haven’t passed your assessment yet,” he reminded her.

“I know I will.” Spiderpaw had all the confidence of a wren challenging a bull. She smirked and trotted away to complete her assessment- then, suddenly, stopped in her tracks and looked back to see if Antstar was watching.

“I have to watch you in secret.” Antstar nodded his head upward, as if he were pushing her away. “Go on.”

She slunk into the grasses, which were turning the deep golden color that late greenleaf always brought upon itself. The sun peeked out from the pitch-black clouds above them, giving everything a surreal yellow glow. Away Spiderpaw went to get herself into the swing of hunting- and as she did, Antstar started to pace in circles, thinking about the Sparkthistle predicament.

Mentor and apprentice were on the far end of WindClan territory, away from the Clan, away from the other Clans, away from the world. Besides the slight rustle of grasses that followed Spiderpaw as she stalked a rabbit and the distant creaks and sighs of the windmills on the horizon, Antstar found the air deathly still, except for his thoughts which buzzed within him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a figure. It was Twoleg-like in shape and size, and after cowering from it instinctively, Antstar realized it was a familiar figure. Shalestar told him back when he was apprenticed that the object was called “Scare Crow”, and that the loners who lived in the barn thought of it as a friend. Scare Crow was moved around by the farmers to keep birds off the nearby crops, but yet it always remained perfectly still, as its skin was burlap and its veins were hay straw.

“Did it always sit like that?” he had asked.

“Perhaps.” Shalestar had looked off into the horizon, the warmth of being about to tell a good story curling up the corners of his lips. “Legend has it that, many moons ago, StarClan took pity upon Scare Crow, and reanimated him to come alive and live among the Clans. His humanoid, flawed figure was made feline. His burlap became handsome tawny tabby fur, his straw became flesh and blood, and his buttons became two beautiful eyes the color of harvested wheat. Scare Crow was sent to live among the Clans, and so he did- but, having once not been a cat, he never truly fit in, despite the beautiful appearance StarClan gifted him. When he was trying to woo a molly to take as his mate, they strolled together through Sunningrocks. In the reflection of the Sunningrocks’s water lay Scare Crow’s true self- ragged, ugly, weather-beaten and lopsided. He ran away, sobbing at the discovery of who he truly was, and StarClan realized then that it was more humane, more gentle, more right to strip him of his mortal coil and turn him back into his true self as the being of straw and burlap. He has remained here ever since.”

More humane. More gentle. More right. More right to stop them. More right to end them.

More right to kill them.

Sparkthistle had barely any friends. Her bitter, dour nature led her to be quite an outcast in the Clan’s community, save for Stoatslink, and even then he didn’t seem entirely approving of her. She had to be miserable. And the Clan was miserable any time they interacted with her. Furthermore, if she was turning on Antstar, she could turn on all the community. If a rival Clan asked her for intel, she could flip. She had little attachment to anyone in the Clan, so it was excruciatingly imaginable that her hatred for Antstar would outweigh her loyalty to WindClan…

His train of thought was halted by a squeak as Spiderpaw bit through the throat of a juvenile rabbit. He watched as the dark gray tabby carefully lined up her kill by a fallen log- leaving plenty of space for the next prey she was to catch.

He knew he was going to pass her. How couldn’t he? She had already proven herself. But having her hunt alone and complete the traditional assessment gave Antstar the space he needed to process the decision he already felt doomed to make.

Sparkthistle could find peace in the afterlife. She had never done anything deserving of Hell, no matter how many times Antstar had probably muttered that under his breath when dealing with her. Perhaps she could calm herself in the heavens in a way that she could never truly do in her mortal life. StarClan would be a kinder land than the rough earth and harsh sky of WindClan.

Maybe he was trying to rationalize himself here.

But then again- what could be gained from her continued flesh-and-blood existence? At best she was an annoyance. At worst… at worst she was an outright security risk.

There was the thumping of paws. Spiderpaw was in full chase, a shrew just before her. It ducked one way and another, around the bend and back again, into and through a log. Faster and faster they went, despite the shrew being so small, so unnecessary, so unimpactful in the grand scheme of the world at large and its moon. And as Antstar made his decision- as Antstar looked to the sky, looked to the unblinking amber sun, hoping that StarClan was with him and approved, hoping that StarClan knew he was doing this for WindClan’s sake- she leapt, and the shrew went out with a final cry, so unimportant and yet defiant to the last in spite of the very jaws that would always defeat it.

 As they went home, Spiderpaw holding her catches and lost in the daydreams of what her warrior ceremony might be like, Antstar could only think of what he was about to do. Spiderpaw’s warrior name- something that once seemed so momentous, so important only a scant few days ago- already felt dwarfed by the matter of Sparkthistle’s fate. Antstar paused by the edge of the medicine den. The air he was about to speak with felt like it was caught in his throat. Whitethroat slunk out, always alert, almost as if they already knew he was there.

“About what you said a few days ago.”

Whitetooth nodded attentively.

“…Can we go through with it tonight? As fast as possible, I- I don’t want to think about it too hard.”

Whitetooth took a moment to respond, already visibly figuring out how they would do it. They looked towards the den, where Marblepaw was chewing up a poultice, and then into the general direction of the gorge. Ears pricked, eyes intense, looking almost more like a ferret surveying the land than a cat.

And then, they nodded. A transaction was about to begin.

“The weather is ripe for it… As you wish, Antstar. I am your dearest servant.”

 That night, the sky was dark. Thick black clouds had continued to roll in, and there was the distant rumble of storms beyond the horizons. Brief, misty scatters of rain speckled the dusty earth.

Antstar watched the Clan go to sleep, one by one. While some still decided to sleep out in the open hollow, others that were worried about the chance of storm hid away in burrows scattered throughout the camp area, and slowly, the Clan came to rest. He had asked there be no guards or vigils held on this night- while the threat of impending rain acted as justification, he needed there to be no eyes, nothing that could possibly spot him when he and Whitetooth figured out what to do with the body.

“I tell you,” snarled a certain ginger tabby from afar, “I am not sick. I don’t know why you think I am.”

Whitetooth, however, wasn’t fettered. They circled her like an adder, their brown tail gently stroking her flank as if they were attempting to tame a wild horse. “I am aware you may think that. But I can already recognize symptoms of kittencough in you, and the sickness takes a few days to set in. If we treat you now, you won’t be sick later.”

Sparkthistle snarled in defiance, but after a moment of contemplation, she followed Whitetooth into the abandoned rabbit burrow that made up the medicine den. “Fine. So long as you make this quick, pal.”

As she did so, Whitetooth scurried over to Antstar, in that silent, almost eel-like way they were so skilled at. They leaned in slightly and began to whisper. “When I give you the signal-“ -they twitched their left ear- “I want you to come in. We must do this tonight, Antstar- else they may catch onto us.”

From there, Antstar carefully watched, pacing around camp to get a good look into the medicine den. Marblepaw seemed fast asleep at the entrance, her head resting upon a clump of mosses she had fetched earlier that day. In fact, just about everyone was asleep now save for the leader, his medicine cat, and their target. Sparkthistle caught the amber glow of Antstar’s eyes and stared at him as Whitetooth took something small and dark and stuffed it into a dead shrew.

“Kittencough,” they began, speaking in the voice of a lecturing mentor, “is usually much like a mild case of whitecough. The issue, however, is that it is very contagious and can be deadly for kits and elders. Usually, we treat it with whitecough medicines and drowsiness-inducing herbs, so that way the cat involved does not spread it and risk hurting the most vulnerable.”

But Sparkthistle’s yellowish-amber eyes indicated she had paid little attention to their monologue. “Why is Antstar there?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“He and I are having a conversation once you fall asleep. Mostly about the next Moonstone meeting, StarClan, those types of affairs. That, and figuring out what we’ll do about herbs come leaf-fall.”

“In the night? With this weather?”

“The night lends impulse to new ideas, my Clanmate.”

And then- slowly, slyly, they brought the shrew towards her. The very same shrew Spiderpaw had caught in her apprentice exam. For a brief moment that felt like nine lives and a day, Whitetooth made eye contact with Antstar.

This was it. The last chance to stop now. The last chance to keep Sparkthistle alive.

Every joint in Antstar’s limbs wanted to move, to give a last-minute refusal. And yet, he stood perfectly still.

Whitetooth turned back to Sparkthistle. For a moment it felt in Antstar’s mind as though she had already died. Perhaps, in a sense, she had.

“Here. I want you to take this. Medicine can trouble an empty belly if one is not careful.”

Sparkthistle sniffed it carefully, her pink speckled nose twitching with apprehension. Finally, she gave in, slowly taking a mouthful, ripping away at the skin.

“Now, I’ve put some medicines into this shrew of yours, as to clear out the kittencough. You shall feel drowsy. But- and this is important- do not be alarmed.”

There was a crunch as she bit into the black seeds that Whitetooth had enclosed within the shrew’s flesh.

“Everything is going to be perfectly fine.”

For a moment, Sparkthistle remained perfectly unaffected, continuing to nose around the shrew to pick out its best meat. Suddenly, however, her paw began to twitch. She looked around uneasily, as if her vision was beginning to spot out. She looked at Whitetooth, but Whitetooth gave her the same soothing stare they always had.

“Is it supposed to feel-“

“Like that? Yes.”

She got up to her paws, swaying back and forth like a tree about to topple in a storm. Saliva began to bubble from her jaw.

“I’ve had drowsiness herbs before, and they’ve-“ She struggled to speak. The deathberries had already coursed through her tongue, gradually paralyzing it. Her slurred words devolved into mumbled, slobbery vocalizations. Then, suddenly, Whitetooth knocked her to the ground and pinned her there.

They twitched their right ear as they stared at Antstar. That was the signal.

Antstar rushed in, silently, holding the ginger molly down as spasms shook her. She looked up at him, and he pushed her head into the ground to keep her still as she writhed and tried best she could to fight back. Her stare back at him bore into his very heart, gripping and shaking his very being. She had figured out what was going on, now. This was no look of anger, or of annoyance, or even of betrayal. No, this was a look Antstar had only seen before a scant few times. The look of a cat freezing as a monster runs out before them. The look of a young hare as a patrol leader strikes the killing blow. It was a look of pure, unadulterated horror.

Antstar stepped back instinctively. For a second, a further worry flashed through his head- had he let her go?

But the ginger body simply sank to the earth like a rug wet from saliva and rustled with struggle, sinking inward like a balloon that had slowly deflated from a puncture.

Sparkthistle was gone.

Antstar felt worry creep in as he scouted the clearing, over and over again to make sure the glint of no eye caught him. Behind him, he could hear Whitetooth clean up the blood-tinged cluster of foamy saliva that had pooled around Sparkthistle’s head. For a moment, he checked to ensure that Marblepaw was still asleep, and he felt slight relief when he saw the apprentice still lay in her nest, seemingly deep within a dream.

“Now,” Whitetooth whispered, stepping back as if they were admiring their own handiwork of having cleaned up the den. “What we’ll do is drag this over to the gorge. You would like to hide the body, correct?”

Antstar nodded fervently.

“Right. I know exactly what we shall do.” They picked up Sparkthistle by the scruff of her neck. Her shoulders hung limply. The white medicine cat indicated the other half of her body, and Antstar picked it up by the lower spine. Carefully, the two cats dragged her out and away without making a sound, through the gorse tunnel and out of camp. Dust gathered on her paws as they were dragged across the earth. Whitetooth’s grip was confident, certain; Antstar’s was far shakier and he had to fight to keep his jaw clamped. He had never realized how small Sparkthistle was. How small any cat was, really. It felt as though he were asleep in the leader’s den, and this was all some mad dream that he was watching from the distance of the mind.

Suddenly, Whitetooth came to a stop, and Antstar had to stop himself from falling forward onto the body. They looked down into the river, which looked as black and endless as the clouded sky that loomed above them, and then across to ensure no RiverClan cat had caught sight of them.

“…Why stop here?” Antstar started to ask, but his question was answered by the precise stare that Whitetooth was sending into the depths of the waters below.

“Check to make sure there’s no blood on her or sign of injury,” they instructed. Antstar carefully looked over the body, which had gradually grown a tad stiff. There was still a line of froth around her lip, but besides this, nothing had remained of the desperate struggle from earlier.

“…Nothing of the sort.”

“Good.”

“… We’re going to throw her into the river, right?”

“I knew you had figured it out already. You’re a smart cat. Any scent of deathberry- or us- will be soaked away by the water. If she is dragged away by the current, we shall say she clearly ran off because of her distaste towards your leadership.”

“And if she is found, she…?”

“She stumbled over the edge. Lots of cats have fallen to their deaths here. It wouldn’t look a moment out of place.”

Antstar pushed the body over. It rolled lopsidedly, like a chipped pebble; and soon slipped off the edge. Turning over itself, flank over flank, it fell into the black river and was swallowed up by the hungry waves. There was a hint of orange, and then it was gone.

Antstar looked to Whitetooth. “Can we…” His throat choked upon itself. “Can we never speak of this again?”

Whitetooth nodded. A talon of lightning darted out of one of the clouds nearby, and there was a corresponding grunt of thunder.

They walked back to camp, side by side, master and servant. Antstar looked at the ground, not daring to look ahead; Whitetooth, unflinching as ever, looked right ahead, squinting slightly to keep the dapples of raindrops from hitting their eyes. They slipped into the medicine den, doing one last check to make sure any indication of a struggle had vanished.

Everything was silent, there. Clumps of moss, diligently organized by type and age, lined the den. The nests, clean as ever, were empty. Except for one, which held Marblepaw.

Antstar paid close attention to Marblepaw’s figure. She was shuddering a bit, her breath shaky. Was she having a nightmare? Or- or had she-

Antstar felt his nerves coil in terror as he realized her amber eyes were wide open.

“Whitetooth!” he whispered, a sudden sharpness to the syllables as panic clutched him. “Whitetooth, your apprentice-“

But Whitetooth was unfettered as ever. “Do not fear, Antstar.” They laid a paw on Marblepaw’s shoulder, and she recoiled slightly, gasping with fright. But she stayed in position, letting the medicine cat’s pale, cold pawpads touch her warm dark tabby pelt.

“She can keep a secret very well,” they said, a sudden darkness in their words. “And if not- I can make her keep it.”

This was wrong. This was very, very wrong, and Antstar felt a pang of sympathy for the little apprentice. It was only now he realized he had never seen her befriend anyone else in the Clan.

But it had to be done. For WindClan.

And so, Antstar walked off to the leaders’ den. Just as he got in, rain fell in great, big curtains, obscuring his view of camp. He checked for a moment if he could see any glitters of light from his Clanmates’ eyes, in case they had awoken and seen at least something, but he was reassured by the uniformly dark rainy landscape before him. Slowly, his trembling breaths began to ease into sleep once more.

He thought of Whitetooth, of Marblepaw, even Sparkthistle. How much had changed in the past few hours alone. He had gone from leader, to murderer-

No! He was no murderer, he told himself. He had simply -disposed- of her. She was leading a rotten life and all he had done was let her leave it. And if he truly had murdered her, it was for the best of WindClan, for their safety. If warriors could kill in the midst of battle, if medicine cats could end the suffering of the burdened, nothing he had done was out of line. It was the best for everybody.

But when he looked back to the sky, to be reassured by starlight, all he found was the thick rain battering the earth.