#that must be TERRIFYING. to an extent to both of them

[kat1nkulta]

I can’t stop thinking about Loop. Imagine doing everything, anything, to get out of a traumatic situation but the price is you. Your body is gone, your name is gone, your family doesn’t recognize you, you feel like most of your memories of them are gone too anyway. Suddenly you’re denied your identity. It’s like YOU never existed… and someone else took your place. You, whose biggest fears are forgetting and being forgotten in turn. You, who’s hesitant to change and now you’re forced to. You can’t even really blame anyone else because you did get your wish, right?

It’s explained clearly in the game, but the implications of it just hit me extra hard sometimes. Siffrin is as much of a study of Loop as Loop is of Siffrin. They share(d) their fears too so mal du pays words essentially becoming the truth to Loop is just… 🪨🪨🪨🙁🙁🙁💥💥💥💥

What do you do when all you have is ripped from you, all your worst fears come true, and youre forced to just… come to terms with it?

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

That's What Friends Are For- E.M.

I've been really thirsty for Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie so I poured myself this taaaallll drink of water. Hope you love it xx

You've never had an orgasm, and Eddie would be happy to help remedy that.

Part 2

Masterlist

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI!! Cursing, mentions of smoking, heavy petting, pet names (angel, sweetheart), a lil crying (but in a good way), fingering (lmk if I missed any)

Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie

Word Count- 4,802

(Gifs not mine, credit to owner!)

It wasn’t something that you’d normally ask, but with the haze of weed clouding your senses and the exaggerated moans of the poor actress being exploited for the dumb action movie you and Eddie were watching out of sheer boredom, you couldn’t help yourself. You turn to Eddie, the cogs in your head turning in overtime as the words reach your mouth before you can even put too much stock in them, “What does an orgasm even feel like?” Your eyes narrow as you imagine it, the sounds of the woman on screen echoing in your mind. There’s no way that real people sound like that, no, this is just some stupid movie that you and Eddie had never even heard of before digging it out of the pile of tapes beneath the TV. “I mean, I guess it’s gotta feel good, but does it feel that good?”  

While you ponder the probability of the sounds onscreen being at all accurate for real-world scenarios, Eddie’s face pales, the light high he’d been enjoying completely knocked out of his body at your words. Despite being best friends for the past several years, you never really talked about your sex lives with each other. For you, it was because it didn’t exist. For Eddie, it was because the only person he really wanted anymore was you. Every other person in town combined couldn’t interest him half as much as you, and he had definitely looked. Pining after your best friend for years wasn’t really something Eddie was interested in doing, not that it helped. Of course, the only reason you hadn’t made a move—aside from the fact that you were thoroughly terrified at the thought of being rejected—was because you thought that Eddie was something of a ladies’ man. You knew he was much more experienced than you, not that that was a difficult feat, but you knew that he at least went on dates. And you never wanted your attraction to him get in the way of your friendship anyway. If he liked you, he would’ve made a move sooner, right?  

Wrong. 

Eddie had fallen head over heels for you about a year after you had met, both of you juniors in high school. You went away with your family on vacation for a couple weeks that summer and came back... different. You were more confident, and even though it had only been a short separation, you looked different, more womanly than gangly teenager. He liked you before, but some switch inside his chest flicked, like the lights were finally turning on in some long-forgotten roller coaster ride. He’s had it bad for you ever since, suffering in silence because he knows how shy you used to be, and still are to some extent. He would never, ever want to do or say anything to make you uncomfortable, including putting his feelings on the line in exchange for your amazing friendship.  

Still, the news that you didn’t know what an orgasm felt like was surprising. He knew you were private about your dating life, and he always respected that. But you had had boyfriends before. And you were both in your early 20s now. Surely you had been with one of them. Or even figured it out on your own... 

“What?” is the brilliant response that flies from Eddie’s lips as his brain short circuits. You look back at his face, having wandered away, lost in thought. Eddie half expects you to backtrack, but still, to his surprise, you double down. 

“What does an orgasm feel like?” He can tell your Mary Jane consumption must be fueling this line of questioning, but if you’re really curious... 

“Um, well...” Eddie flounders, trying to find the words to say. You keep your focus on him, your thoughts trailing only slightly as you wait for him to respond. “It... It does feel really good. I don’t know exactly what it feels like for women, but for guys, at least, for me, it’s like my whole body kind of explodes, but in, like, the best way,”  

You mull this over for a moment, your eyes darting between Eddie’s face and the screen, which has since moved past the over-exaggerated sex scene back into shootouts between the good guy and the bad ones. “Okay, well, have any of the girls you’ve been with ever sounded like that?” You were genuinely curious, trying to imagine what could feel that good and coming up blank. 

Eddie chuckles a bit, eyes flicking up in a memory, “Well, one, but I’m pretty sure she was faking. Some women think they have to sound like that because that’s what the movies show them they’re supposed to sound like. But really, there are all different kinds of... sounds... that people make when they’re feeling that good,” he explains, his surprise relaxing now into amusement just slightly. 

“Oh,” You look back at the screen, apparently done with your questions. Eddie feels his heartbeat fading back into its normal rhythm after the near heart-attack you had inflicted upon him, and things go quiet for a minute before you turn your head back toward him, mouth poised open to speak. “Do you think—Never mind,” You quickly shove the thought back down your throat, remembering that Eddie’s not supposed to know you’ve been in love with him forever.  

The possibilities of what you were about to ask him makes his heart race again, until he’s burning to know. “What is it?” He asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

Your lips press together and shake your head as a heat spreads over your face, giving you a moment of clarity amid the warmth of the high. “No, it’s okay, it was a dumb question,” You wave your hand in dismissal, and pray that Eddie doesn’t press it further in fear of your mouth working faster than your logic. Of course, you have no such luck. 

“There are no dumb questions. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask. Would I ever judge you for anything? And really think about that, because I’ve seen you pick a pickle up off the floor and eat it,” He laughs, trying to diffuse the tension. It helps a little, and with his reassurance and that fleeting moment of clarity far away, you open your mouth again, hesitating as you find the right words. 

“Do you think... that you could maybe... show me?”  

Eddie’s eyes bulge from his skull, and he’s afraid that his heart has totally stopped for a minute. But after an agonizing moment, a thick thump of his heart breathes life back into him, and he can only pray that you can’t hear it as it loudly thump, thump, thumps in his chest.  

“Show you..?” It’s a begging question. He’s not exactly sure which part you want to learn, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t assume anything. 

You turn away again, the mortification laying over you in a thick blanket. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... You can forget it,” 

Eddie doesn’t want to mess this up, and the visions of you making such pretty little sounds for him, or better yet, unraveling under his touch, automatically send all of the spare blood in his body downward, so quickly that he almost becomes dizzy. He has to make an effort to shift his body to hide his growing erection as he tries to reassure you. “No, no! Don’t worry, I’m listening. It’s okay, I swear! What do you want me to show you? I... I can do my best,” His voice is sincere, sincere enough to make you look sheepishly back at him, your lashes low as you try not to look in his eyes. 

You take a deep breath, your head buzzing with adrenaline as you form the words. “Would you show me how to have an orgasm?”  

Eddie swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. He’s trying so hard to make this seem as chill as possible, for both of your sakes. If he gets too eager too quickly, there’s no way he wouldn’t just bust in his pajama pants, and he might scare you. His mouth is dry as he nods quickly, “Um, yeah. I- I can definitely try,” He watches as your face grows redder by the second, but you give a small smile, one that makes Eddie lightheaded again as another shockwave of want shoots through his half-hard cock. “Do you want to go to my room?” He asks softly, gauging the look on your face as you still avoid his eyes.  

“Yeah,” You murmur, but your legs won’t move. There’s a want in you, despite not knowing how to indulge it, and as Eddie gets up from the couch, offering a hand to you, you take it and squeeze, finally looking up at him. Eddie feels like he might faint in that moment, your hazy eyes doe-like and innocent, not making it any easier for him to keep calm. He pulls you up to your feet and you follow him, your hand in his, to his room.  

You shut the door behind you, flicking the lock on the knob despite being the only ones home, and turn to face Eddie, who stands just behind you, still not believing what might happen. “S-so, um...” He begins, feet shuffling beneath him. “For girls, it’s a lot harder to... finish. It takes a lot of warming up first,” Your brow furrows. 

“Warming up?” A blush breaks out over Eddie’s cheeks, and he reaches out to let his fingers trace up your arm, ghosting over your shoulder and up your neck. A breath hitches in your throat as his palm cups your face, and suddenly, you think you might know what he means. Nevertheless, he explains. 

“It’s a lot easier when you’re feeling good from other things first. Like touching, kissing... things like that. It can be painful if you don’t do it right,” Your lashes flutter as he leans in slightly, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face. 

“Oh,” Eddie lets out a breath of a laugh at your breathless response, and already you feel yourself turning to putty in his hands.  

“I want you to tell me if you don’t like something, okay? Don’t try to spare my feelings. If you want me to stop doing something, or you want me to do something specific, you tell me. Okay?” The demanding edge in his whispers snaps you back to reality, and you feel a warmth building deep within you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Sure, shadows of this have been felt watching risqué movies with sex scenes or kissing your prior boyfriends awkwardly in the backs of their cars, but that pales in comparison. This is a new, deep burn in the very depths of your body. 

“Mhmm,” You try to lean closer to him, to feel more, but his other hand goes to your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes meet his, and they’re unexpectedly hard, his brown eyes serious as he looks at you. 

“I need you to say it. I need to know you can say it,” Your breath stutters again at his words, but still, you find your voice. 

“I- I don’t like that,” You whisper, and it’s all you can do. Eddie nods in approval, but his eyes want you to continue, “I want you... I want you to kiss me,” You can hear the hammer of your heart in your ears, your blood singing as the anticipation grows. Eddie’s eyes return to their normal softness, gazing into yours like he’s seeing the sun set over the ocean for the first time.  

“Are you sure?” Eddie whispers as he inches toward you, his face leaning down ever closer. This might be the closest you’ve ever been to him, and the thought sends a delicious shiver up your spine. His nose just brushes yours, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“I want you to kiss me, Eddie,” It’s barely a breath, but he hears you, and gently, gently, his lips meet yours, barely a brush of skin against skin. You hear him suck in a deep breath before letting his lips move against yours a little more firmly, the hand on your waist snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. You let your hands find the back of his hair, which is up in a cute, messy bun, and your fingers wind themselves around a few loose, curly tendrils there. Then, Eddie’s lips move across your cheek, down toward your jaw, and the first sound comes loose from your lips. 

It’s a tiny noise, but it might as well have been Eddie’s favorite song, the way he revels in it. He can feel the pounding of your heart in your chest as you press yourself against him, not really knowing what to do other than let Eddie work his way down your neck with his lips. “E-Eddie...” You whimper, hands gently grasping at the fabric at the back of his worn t-shirt.  

Eddie stops then, immediately, waiting for your instruction. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had done something to make you uncomfortable and now you’d never ever talk to him again... “Can we lay down?” You ask, breathy and quiet in his ear. He presses a firm kiss to the top of your shoulder in relief, elated that you were enjoying what was happening before pulling away. 

“Yeah, let’s get you comfy,” He smiles one of those easy, lopsided smiles that takes your breath away, and you feel the butterflies that usually reside in your stomach move downward to your core. You instinctively clench your thighs together to try to squash the foreign feeling, but as Eddie moves to lay down, you see the bulge in his loose pants, and it sends a new swarm flooding your body. With a deep breath, you join Eddie and lay next to him, his face only inches from yours. His hand reaches toward your face, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Do you want to just keep kissing, or are you ready to try something else?” He asks. You think it over, biting the inside of your lip as you bite back the embarrassment of being so inexperienced next to him.  

“Can we try something new and still do some kissing?” You smile sheepishly, not being able to hold his gaze as your face heats. He lets out a small laugh, not at you, but because you’re so nervous. 

“Yeah, we can do that. Is it okay if I touch you? I can just try a few things and you can figure out what you like,” He suggests, his eyes roaming over you. You’re not wearing a bra, because you never did when you and Eddie were just lounging around watching movies and smoking, something Eddie had to get used to quick when your body started really developing. Once or twice when he was a few years younger, he had to fake an upset stomach just to relieve his aching cock in the bathroom upon seeing your pert nipples through the fabric of one of his old t-shirts. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” With your permission, Eddie’s fingers gently reach the hem of your shirt, slipping under and running his calloused fingertips over the smooth skin of your side. You let out a gasp, your eyes screwing shut, and he notices the way your hips move of their own accord, trying to scratch an itch you’ve never felt before. He has to bite back a moan of his own just at the sight of you, so beautiful, so willing beneath his capable hands. He lets out a shaky breath as his hand moves up your side, leaning in to kiss you like he said he would, like he was aching to do again, and you accept his lips greedily, your hands pressing into the sides of his face as he glides across your skin, not light enough to tickle, but enough to send tingles over your skin, goosebumps forming in the wake of his caress. 

When his hand comes to cup your breast, not daring to flick over the sensitive nub just yet, you let out your second noise as he gives a little squeeze there. This one is muffled by his lips, pressed firmly to yours, and the vibration of it shoots straight down to his cock, which twitches willfully in his pants, wanting you more and more every second that passes. 

With a light touch, Eddie lets his thumb just brush your nipple, and it sends an electric shock through you, leading to your third noise, a much sharper sound that almost sounds painful. But when your lips press into his even harder, Eddie is only spurred on and he does it again, then lets his full hand grope over the full mound, rubbing across your breast with his palm. Eddie lets his tongue trace over your bottom lip then, and you open your mouth to him, not really knowing how to kiss with tongue, but unwilling to stop to make a comment about it as your body ignites to a new level of fire and electricity.  

Your legs are continuously rubbing together now, the friction glorious but not enough, and you want to feel more. You’re panting in between the long stretches of kissing, and while you don’t want to stop, you also need to tell Eddie what you want. So, instead of rushing back to his kiss, you press your thumb gently to his bottom lip, pupils blown with need. “Can you take my shorts off?” You ask, your confidence building. Eddie nods all too eagerly, and he gets up onto his knees to shift town toward your bottom half. You roll onto your back and lift your butt to make it a bit easier for him, his hands finding purchase at your hips, fingers dipping just below the waistband when he stops. 

“Do you want me to take your underwear off too?” He asks, wanting to be sure. You bite your lip again as the embarrassment floods back. 

“I’m not wearing any...” You admit, giving a small smile. His hands grip at your hips a bit harder then, and his sharp breath only helps your growing need. This is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen him, towering over you like this. You can see the long outline of his length through his pants now, and you let your mind wonder what could happen if this goes even further than you originally intended. It’s enough to make your hips roll in Eddie’s hands as he starts pulling down your sleep shorts. You close your eyes, trying to keep your embarrassment from making you chicken out when you’re finally about to get what you’ve always wanted. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, and your eyes shoot open as you stare at him, mortification building in your chest. 

“What? Is it bad? Do I look weird?” You ask in a flurry. Your hands go to cover your face, thighs clenching together to spare yourself when Eddie pries your legs apart again. 

“What? God no! You look... You look fucking amazing,” There’s a wonder in his voice, and you peek through your fingers to find him staring down at you, the look on his face amorous, hungry almost, like you’re his favorite meal in the world. It takes you aback, but nevertheless, there’s a twitch in your hips again, seeking a friction that you can no longer achieve for the time being. Eddie gently lowers himself on top of you, and you let out a moan when you feel the fabric of his pants brushing over your bare pussy. You let your hands fall as you try to push yourself into him, but there’s a hand holding onto your hip now to keep you down. “Oh my god, please, can you try not to do that right now? I am already in serious danger here, angel. If I feel even a little bit of you against my dick I’m fucking done for,” Eddie breathes a laugh to cover the moan in his voice, his face hovering over yours. 

“B-but I want—” Eddie cuts you off with a deep kiss, his hand squeezing into your hip as you desperately try to feel him against you again. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I want this one to be about you, okay? If you still want to in the morning, we can circle back,” Eddie offers, and you give a small nod. “Okay, then. I’m gonna touch you now, okay? I’ll go nice and slow. If you want me to change what I’m doing, just tell me,” You nod again and the hand gripping your hip travels down and his lips meet the hollow of your neck, giving just a tiny nip at the skin that sends your hips up again in need. Eddie tries to hold it in, but he can’t help but moan softly against your skin as he continues his journey.  

His fingers ghost just over the sensitive bud of nerves then, and the shock that goes through your body is even more intense than before when he was playing with your nipple. Your arms fling around his back and you grip the fabric of his t-shirt like a lifeline. “I’m gonna take good care of you,” Eddie whispers as he travels up your neck, “I’m gonna make you feel so good,”  

The promise is punctuated by a soft circle around your clit, and your whimper is so pathetic it startles you as it tumbles from your lips. You can feel how wet you are now; how hot your core is against his fingertips. It’s so blissful, so wanton that you feel your walls clenching around nothing, another new feeling that sends your head reeling. Eddie continues his gentle pattern around your bud, sucking sweet bruises into the skin below your ear between whispers of sweet nothing that spur you forward on your quest into the unknown world of this beautiful feeling. 

“E-Eddie,” You plead, head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers pull his shirt so that your hands connect with his skin, “Can you go—Can you go a little f-faster, please?” Eddie nods into the crook of your neck as he complies, fingers moving just a bit faster, a bit firmer against you, and your chest starts heaving in pants again, moans spilling from your mouth more freely now. You grind into his hand pathetically as the intense pleasure grows. You feel like you could cry at the feeling, so blissful and beautiful and everything you’ve ever dreamed of as Eddie works you further and further, his lips only ever leaving your skin to whisper sweet nothings to you. 

“You’re doing so good... I can’t believe I get to do this for you... Been wanting you like this for so long...” Eddie nips and sucks and licks across your neck, up your face, across your lips, and you’re just so consumed by him that you feel hot little pinpricks in the corners of your eyes, your throat going thick as the tears begin. 

When Eddie catches sight of the first one, he slows his work on your core, afraid that you had changed your mind. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” You feel a pang of panic then, not really knowing why but knowing that you were desperate to reach the edge you were approaching. You pull at his shirt, not being able to verbalize your excruciating need for a second. 

“No, no!” You plead, “Don’t stop, please... I just... Please don’t stop...” You don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe because it feels so good, maybe because the emotions are just so new that your body is startled by them. Either way, Eddie is reluctant but believes you, because he trusts you and you trust him so completely that you don’t think that there’s any way that either of you would or even could hurt each other. 

Eddie picks up the pace again, his lips focusing on yours now to help keep you from crying. Your fingernails scratch up his back as you whine and writhe beneath him, coming closer and closer to something. There’s a tenseness in your stomach now, and it’s building. There must be a precipice close, a pinnacle to all of this pleasure and need Eddie has been giving you. Your panting breaths become more ragged, and Eddie gets the feeling that you’re close. 

“That’s it, angel. You gonna cum for me?” He practically moans against your mouth, and it’s another agonizing minute of this pressure inside you building before you feel it.  

Your hands clench Eddie’s shirt as you unravel. Your tears are flowing freely down your face, mouth open in a loud moan that reverberates on the walls of Eddie’s small room. Eddie keeps drawing circles over your clit as you ride through the waves of your first ever orgasm, kissing down to the top of your chest and back up to add to the pleasure. Finally, you feel it start to subside, the wide waves lessening into ripples as your breath starts to even out again. Eddie slows down again, and finally stops after a few more seconds, wanting to draw out your bliss as much as he can. He kisses you deeply, the hand on your pussy traveling up to grip your side, sliding up past the hem of your shirt as he holds you firm. You can feel the slick on his fingers cooling down on your skin, and it sends a new wave of shivers through your body.  

You kiss each other for a long time, not wanting to go back to reality where you’re just friends, but finally you have to pull away for air. You look at each other, both of you quiet. There’s a new electricity in the air, charged with the anticipation of what you’ll say to each other now that everything has changed.  

“How was that?” Eddie settles on, his brow set in a concerning furrow. He wants to make sure that you had the best experience he could’ve offered you, because that’s what you deserve. You deserve to feel this good all the time. 

Your soft eyes bore into his and you nod slowly, trying to etch every detail of this night into your memory forever. “It was amazing. You are...” Your hand comes to hold his face, and he leans into your touch in such a way that your heart melts for him even more. “You’re so amazing, Eddie, thank you.” You give a little laugh then, at how silly it sounds for you to thank your friend for giving you an orgasm. Eddie laughs a little too, and he stretches his lips to kiss the edge of your palm. 

“Anything for my favorite girl,” He whispers, smiling that easy smile that you love so much. Pride sparkles in your chest at his words. God, you love him so much... 

“So...” You feel a blush creeping on your face again, “You’ve been wanting me... like this?” You think back to the words he whispered against your neck that made your insides turn to mush. 

Eddie flicks his eyes away from you, embarrassed. “You caught that, huh?” 

“Was I not supposed to?” You giggle, your smile sending shockwaves through Eddie’s body. 

“Well, I just didn’t think you would. You seemed to be pretty distracted if I recall,” He jabs playfully, his gaze returning to you. His eyes soften at his next thought, “What do you think about that?” 

This is it, this is where everything changes. It’ll never be the same after this. “I...” You begin, building your courage. “I’ve been wanting that, too.”  

Eddie’s face moves through confusion, surprise, and then settles on joy, his smile widening to reach his sparking brown eyes. “Yeah? You’ve been wanting that too?” Your smile matches his as you nod, letting out a breath of a laugh with the relief settling in your chest. 

Suddenly, Eddie squeezes you in a bone crushing hug, peppering kisses over your face as you giggle. His lips settle on yours again, and it’s like taking a drink of cool water after wandering in the desert. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to this, but by God, you’d be happy to. 

You keep kissing and cuddling for a long time, talking like you usually do, how best friends do, but now it’s just better. Best friends, but there’s no more hesitancy, no more wishing for more, because now, you have everything you could ever want. 

[aventurineswife]

Not an AU I promise!

But think about the Astral Express having a reader who's world suffered from a Stellaron. The effects being a blighted rain (recently finished playing Ender Lilies) that killed and mutated people.

But the kicker here is that not everyone suffers this fate. There are those that can withstand the curse. And on this world where religion runs rampant you have the reader who underwent an initiation to become an Inquisitor and succeeded.

Queue the serious mental and physical trauma reader went through as they did their churches bidding whether that be slaying abominations of the Rain or hunting down "heretics".

You have March who does her best to make the reader smile, to be that little ball of warmth for the reader.

Dan Heng who teaches the reader some meditative techniques to calm their mind and relax their body.

Welt and Himeko willing to be just be a shoulder for the reader to lean on if they need it.

And of course the Trailblazer who's intent on making readers life so much better any way thry can.

(If Sunday is on the Express then maybe that'd make for some awkward conversations that shift to something more comforting, then confiding in one another about what they faced and went through)

Number one thing I'd want to focus on is how the curse extends readers life and has a healing factor. Not to the extent that Abundance offers, but what would be serious (not lethal or dismembering) wounds are trivial to them and their age is easily in the centuries.

I def want to do more of this but I'll break it into bits lol

The mix of tragedy, resilience, and slow healing (both literal and emotional) is compelling. The Astral Express is the perfect place for someone like the reader—a weary soul who has seen too much yet still endures.

The idea of the blighted rain is terrifying. A force of nature turned curse, reshaping bodies and minds alike. The fact that some, like the reader, can withstand it while others succumb must have shaped every part of their life—especially in a world ruled by religion. Becoming an Inquisitor would’ve been both a blessing and a sentence. They’d be revered and feared, pushed beyond human limits, and molded into something that barely feels like a person anymore.

Then they board the Express.

March would be the first to break past the reader’s defenses. She’d find their reactions—or lack thereof—heartbreaking. The way they barely acknowledge pain, how they hesitate at kindness as if waiting for a hidden cost. She’d make it her mission to make them smile, whether it’s dragging them into silly photos or shoving ice cream into their hands. At first, it probably wouldn’t work, but March isn’t the type to give up easily.

Dan Heng, calm and steady, would recognize the weight they carry. He wouldn’t pry, but he’d offer methods to ease the tension in their body, show them breathing techniques to ground themselves when memories claw at them. Maybe he’d even share a little of his own past, not in words but in the quiet understanding of someone who also knows what it means to be burdened by things they never asked for.

Welt and Himeko would be the silent comfort. They’ve seen enough to know that healing isn’t just about offering solutions. Sometimes, it’s about sitting in the quiet with someone who doesn’t know how to ask for help. A warm cup of coffee left beside them, a simple “you don’t have to carry everything alone” when they look particularly lost.

The Trailblazer? Oh, they’d refuse to let the reader believe that suffering is all they’re meant for. Whether it’s stubbornly including them in the crew’s antics, offering a hand without expectation, or outright telling them, “You deserve to live, not just survive.” The Trailblazer is proof that there’s a life beyond destruction, and they’d do anything to help the reader see it, too.

And Sunday… oh, that’s where things get interesting. Two people, shaped and scarred by forces beyond their control, trying to navigate the aftermath. Their conversations would start awkward, a dance of wariness and unspoken understanding, before turning into something real. Sunday, who hides his pain behind sharp wit and irreverence, recognizing the same shadows in the reader’s eyes. Maybe, in the quiet hours of the night, they’d talk. About what it’s like to lose yourself to something bigger than you. About the cost of faith, of duty, of choices they weren’t truly given. And maybe, just maybe, they’d help each other find something after it all.

And then there’s the curse itself—an extended life, an unnatural resilience. The reader might not even know what to do with that. Pain is familiar, but healing? Living beyond their purpose? That’s terrifying in a way they don’t know how to name. But on the Express, they’re not alone. And maybe, just maybe, they can start to believe that a life beyond suffering is possible.

[waltricia]

Bridgerton season 2 episode 3, “A Bee in Your Bonnet” is ✨magic✨ and let me tell you why.

For those of us who didn’t read the book and knew nothing of what was going to happen, we truly went on an incredible and surprising roller coaster of an experience.

We start the episode with seeing the guy from Hellboy and being like ‘oh yay, it’s the guy from Hellboy!’

… only for him to die three minutes later. And that scene is rough. It’s sudden and abrasive. And the sounds are jarring. The death is scored by tense strings. Then a moment of quiet. Then the AMAZING Ruth Gemmell begins taking us on Violet’s traumatic grief journey, which starts with her jolting Anthony (and us) out of the quiet.

And a thunderous heartbeat threatens him as he walks toward this entirely altered, unwanted life path. And that’s obviously the beginning of his PTSD.

In the other flashbacks throughout the episode, we continue to hear horrific, heart-rending pain radiate out of Violet while Anthony must not only attempt to endure it, but cover his own grief. Anthony and his siblings (and again, we the audience) all have to listen to Violet grieve while she’s giving birth! Screams on top of screams.

And the last flashback is technically quiet, but just as devastating because, like the moment of Edmund’s death, the quiet is weaponized. It signifies the death inside Violet.

It should go without saying that Jonathan Bailey is also a brilliant actor, but I’ll say it now anyway. Damn, he good! He and Ruth partnered perfectly in this grief journey. Serious props to them both because I felt this shit.

And then finally we come to the end. We had been immersed in the horrible aftermath of that striking tragedy. Between the flashbacks- in the present day- we had followed Anthony through the rooms and grounds where he had suffered silently. We had seen Edmund’s grave. We had learned that Anthony’s greatest fears and insecurities all stemmed from that tragic event ten years prior.

And then another fucking bee comes along.

And I swear to god, the first time I watched this, when Kate got stung, my heart was pounding, I was terrified, and my instinctive reaction was “oh my god, is she going to die?!” In hindsight, it’s obviously insane to think that she would be killed off at all, let alone in this scene. But the very fact that, for a moment, that was a legitimate fear I had is exactly why this episode is so god damn brilliant. I felt what Anthony felt. And I’m not the only one! I’ve seen other people’s similar reactions to this scene. The episode really is a roller coaster; easy, lighthearted moments (pall mall, drug tea), interspersed with the terrifying drops and loops that are Anthony’s painful memories which constantly haunt him. And then it brought us right back to that first traumatic moment. Because Anthony has PTSD! And that’s what PTSD does. Anthony is right back where he was, literally not far from the same spot outside Aubrey Hall, standing in front of a person he loves, watching them get stung by a bee on almost the same spot on their body. The tense string scoring comes back and Anthony panics because he’s completely helpless again.

And all of those elements- the setting, the scoring, the acting- combined to terrify us and make us forget something critical: most people don’t die from beestings.

And here’s where it gets really profound for me. Because it’s not just about how we feel Anthony’s fear. It’s also about how Kate completely obliterates it. Without knowing that history and without realizing the full extent of what her actions would mean, she does exactly the right thing. Rather than die and rather than also panic or shy away from his vulnerability, she meets it with her own in the form of care and steady assurance, which is true strength. And in so doing, she stops this cyclical moment in its tracks and completely alters the trauma. She puts his hand on her heart, and the heartbeat comes back. But this time, it’s not threatening. It’s inviting.

And just like in the first scene, the moment is over all too quickly. Just like in that scene, Anthony is thrust onto a new path. But where that moment was damaging, this one is healing. And we feel that too. And it’s the greatest experience that art can give us.

It’s catharsis.

And that’s why this episode is magic. 🐝✨

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 are you to 𝐌𝐄 ?

To Blade, you were the sun stretching over a vibrant pasture of may flowers that broke like the golden yolk of an egg.

To Blade, you were the twirling winds of summertime as your smile emulated the very warmth of the sun and a dash of charming playfulness which never once failed to lighten the strain of burdens. Naturally flowing away like a stream of water or a feather in the wind.

To Blade, your patience was as steadfast and serene as a lake in still waters, the moon dancing overhead while you planted stars on his scars through tender kisses he did not deserve. Boundless and ever so infinite like your soul.

To Blade, you were both an instrument and it’s player: a sweet melody that echoed in his ears every daunting moment when the whispers of the past clouded his mind. Spotlight gracing your skin as the tunes of a forgotten tenderness swirled up into the air like the steam of tea rising from a cup. Thus, no matter his efforts or restraint, Blade kept finding himself at your front door, and thus, in your arms. Time and time again.

To Blade, each step you graced the ground with brought forth life: a child’s laughter, an old woman’s smile, the scent of honeysuckles. That was all your doing.

And Blade, was forever a shadow of destruction that was doomed to a life as devoid and blank as a starless night. Nevertheless, you were the stars. You littered yourself in his life; setting a subtle twinkle in the abyssal night of his being despite his lifeless form.

You were made of cosmic dust, maple wood and all the collective dreams of the universe. And Blade, who was undone bit by bit, followed you like a shadow looming behind in longing.

It had been so long since another soul touched him without underlying motives. He feared that.

Why did you harbour him in your house absent of fear? Why did your persistence invoke warm sensations? Why did your eyes unfailingly meet his?

Blade was keen on understanding you, yet, he gradually realized there was simply nothing to understand. Truth rolled of your tongue with ease and as for Blade, it got stuck in his throat, dying off. Yes, you were far from perfect, nevertheless, you carried yourself despite every thorn pricking your skin. Carving your way through each cavern; leaving subtle traces of discovery for him to follow.

The feeling swelled in his chest like a disease— and it terrified him. And yet, he could not put a name to it. A name to how his eyes lingered a touch longer than they should or how you rubbed his back. (And for the first time, he did not flinch at your touch or grab you by the arm.)

Thus, when the Astral Express offered you the chance to become a passenger, Blade clenched his fist and held his breath.

It was no wonder they asked you. After all, you were the polar opposite of what a Stellaron Hunter should be. You were amiable, mindful, calm, merciful yet seemingly lighthearted like a child.

Blade told himself that he dared not involve himself. You were a person of your own free will. Thus, you would deal with the consequences. There was no regard for him.

Nevertheless, the urge to tear you away from the conversation thrummed through his vile veins.

However, your reply would be forever ingrained in his sullen memory for the rest of eternity.

"I am honoured that you would consider me Mr. Yang," you articulate kindly, a smile reaching your lips, "But, I'm afraid I must decline."

"Oh? How so?"

You emit a silky chuckle, "If you asked me three years ago, I would have readily agreed," you pause then continue with vibrant eyes, "But, there are people I care for with my own life. It would be my biggest regret to leave them."

Until Blade can learn to fathom the extent of his own emotions, he will continue to linger beside you like a phantom or a shadow. Subconsciously yearning to nestle himself in your warmth, yet, always going through, a mere ghost of an absent lover in your presence.

masterlist

more angst :0 i think most of my blog will be angst lmao. btw this was originally posted on my other account @/mignonne02. i just took it down there. thank you for all the support! it makes me really excited to write more >> (please request btw) especially on my last post (diluc angst for life)

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Stoic Whumpee Delirious With Fever Spills Trauma to Caretaker

Warnings: mentions of torture/branding/gutting/whipping, past trauma, scars, trauma dumping, severe fever & infection, gruff/stoic whumpee

This one is directly inspired by a prompt I found from @wisteria-whump that they are letting me use (you can find the prompt HERE) and of course, despite me having 20+ WIPs already, I dropped everything to binge-write this at 3:17a.m -- I have no self control whatsoever. When the world of writing calls, I must answer!

Whumpee was... different from the others that had been rescued from Whumper's base alongside him when it was raided. He was injured far worse than the others when he arrived at the recovery facility, but... he was somehow tougher than them. It was the thing the caretakers were quickest to notice, how Whumpee always brushed off their concern with snarky remarks or humor, powering through recovery mostly on his own -- whereas the other prisoners were badly shaken up and traumatized, terrified even of the people who had rescued them -- they were unpredictable and scared all the time.

   But Whumpee was an enigma. How could someone so severely injured be so stoic and collected all the time? If someone ignored all the wounds and scars on his body, you wouldn't be able to tell what he'd been through. He didn't act traumatized, and it had all the caretakers both baffled and curious.

   He was the easiest to deal with out of all the rescued prisoners, though, since they didn't have to waste time coaxing him out of cowering in a corner to treat his wounds like the others.

   Whenever the caretakers showed up for the daily checkup to change gauze and wound dressings, Whumpee would just... tolerate it. It was clear he didn't enjoy being poked and prodded in areas that hurt, but he was known to grit his teeth and endure it in silence. It made the caretakers' jobs easier.

   Caretaker was Whumpee's primary assigned caregiver -- the one who always brought his meals to his rooms three times a day and helped him walk around when it hurt too much for him to move from bed -- though Whumpee usually brushed her off and ended up doing it alone regardless of her insistence in helping him, and regardless of the amount of pain he was in.

   Whether his refusal to accept help was through pride or shame, Caretaker never knew.

   Whumpee's file had been the most extensive of all the rescued captives -- a detailed description of his wound assessments, signs of all Whumper had done to him in the torture room that had been busted by police.

   The caretakers at the rescue facility had frequently asked him about what he went through, prying for any valuable information, but Whumpee would always deflect the questions and never told any of them the true extent of what happened. It was clear he didn't want to talk about it, and eventually the caretakers had given up trying.

   But then... one day Whumpee fell terribly ill. One wound that got badly infected, and that Whumpee had stubbornly hid until the symptoms were too much to conceal anymore.

   Caretaker had only discovered how sick he was when she brought him dinner one day, finding him sprawled out in the bed covered in sweat and trembling, face flushed and skin burning up with fever.

   Whumpee either hadn't had the time or the energy to wipe off all the sweat to pretend everything was fine before she showed up. But now he was caught -- and Caretaker was furious. Furious that he let it get this bad without notifying her. Furious that he was too darn stoic and closed-off to admit when he was suffering and in pain.

   Caretaker took a deep breath to calm herself as she approached Whumpee’s bed, setting the plate of food down on the nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed.

   Anger wasn't what Whumpee needed right now. So Caretaker forced any frustration from her voice when she spoke.

   "Why didn't you tell me something was wrong?" She asked quietly.

   At first she didn't think Whumpee was awake, but then his eyes cracked open to peer dizzily up at her, glazed and distant.

   "Didn't think... it was that bad..." Whumpee mumbled with a groan. "My side kinda hurts... reminds me of that time when Whumper stabbed me there. That hurt kinda bad too."

   The comment was so random and casual that Caretaker had to double-check to make sure she heard it right as Whumpee spilled that bit of trauma as if it were no big deal. He didn't even sound sad about it, just... matter-of-factly. A statement, not one meant to earn sympathy or pity from Caretaker -- thought Caretaker still felt bad for him anyway.

   "I wuz always his favorite to play with," Whumpee slurred, smiling deliriously. "My snarkiness got me in trouble sooooo much... Whumper hated that about me. My wittiness and defiant sarcasm. He spent the most time on me during torture sessions, more than the others. Yeah, good times..." He laughed weakly, his voice trailing off into an incoherent mumble before he could be understood again.

   "Have you ever been branded by a hot iron before, Caretaker? I wouldn't recommend it -- it sucks. I know from experience." Whumpee giggled weakly, clearly totally out of touch with reality and having no awareness about what was spilling out of his mouth.

   "Then there was that time Whumper took it too far and almost gutted me in a fit of rage after I mouthed off at a bad time -- he didn't think I'd make it after that. But he somehow kept my organs in and cauterized the wound to hold it all inside. It was nice, actually, because he left me mostly alone for a week after that to recover enough for him to be able to hurt me again without risking killing me."

   Whumpee lifted up his shirt with a lopsided grin, revealing a long, ragged gash with old scarred burn marks around the edges that stretched from his chest all the way down to his belly button -- and Caretaker shuddered, picturing him sliced wide open like a butchered deer, screaming in agony as Whumper cursed and shoved his organs back in.

   It was absolutely mortifying to even think about. How could someone do that to a person?

   "Hey, at least I got a cool scar out of it!" Whumpee laughed weakly. "Makes me look tougher than I actually am. I'm secretly a coward, you know -- just good at hiding it after my time with Whumper. Because showing fear always excited him and made the torture worse for me. I'm honestly scared to death in this new place, but I think I do a pretty good job of controlling my emotions, wouldn't you say? Whumper would be so proud. He'd call me a clever brat and then whip my back to bloody ribbons. Heh."

   He was rambling on and on, Caretaker growing more and more horrified the more trauma he spilled. She gaped at him in sheer disbelief of what he'd gone through -- and survived.

   Her curiosity was growing alongside the horror, and a nasty part of her wanted to take advantage of this brief glimpse of vulnerability to finally get some of the answers she'd wanted ever since his arrival. To get some insight into Whumpee's past and fully understand what he went through. Better understand Whumpee.

   But this wasn't right, she told herself. The curiosity was overwhelming, but she'd never forgive herself for taking advantage of Whumpee's state of feverish delirium and weakness -- it would make her no better than Whumper.

   And she was kind of freaked out to be honest, by how wrong it felt to see Whumpee so carefree and open about his past.

   She was realizing more and more just how out of it Whumpee was, not acting like his usual self -- and Caretaker knew that if she let him share now she was going to regret it later. It would betray Whumpee's shaky trust in her, destroy the slim amount of progress she’d made with him during his recovery.

   So despite her desperation for answers, she picked up the plate of food from the nightstand to use it to distract Whumpee and keep him from casually spilling more of his trauma.

   Caretaker was curious as hell about Whumpee's past... but she just knew it wouldn't be right to find out like this.

   She stacked pillows beneath Whumpee’s back to prop him up so he could eat, and gently placed the plate of food in his hands.

   "Thank you," Whumpee mumbled, and Caretaker was once more left surprised. During her entire time caring for him since his rescue, not once had he said thank you. He would always just grunt stoically in acknowledgement whenever she finished dressing his wounds, and that was usually the extent of his gratitude.

   "...Bread?" Whumpee said with a suspicious frown, eyeing the single slice of toast on the edge of his plate. "I don't like bread. Once Whumper shoved it down my throat until I choked and passed out. I learned my lesson after that -- I don't eat dry bread-like foods anymore. Ick."

   "Oh! I had no idea." Caretaker apologized profusely, struggling not to let the horror show as she swiftly snatched the toast from his plate and wrapped it in napkins so he couldn't see it anymore, setting it aside to throw away later.

   Whumpee was all smiles again when she looked back at him, face red with fever and hair plastered to his forehead with sweat as he picked up his fork to dig into the rest of the meal -- scrambled eggs and mashed potatoes. But he hesitated once the fork was in his hand, staring down at it blanky, his mind clearly wandering somewhere else.

   "Whumpee?" Caretaker said quietly, and it was enough to snap him out of it.

   "M'sorry," he slurred. "Just reminds me of the knives Whumper used to torture me. They were made of metal too."

   Whumpee eagerly dug into the food right after with not a care in the world, leaving Caretaker to grapple with all the traumatic information she'd been told.

   Whumpee had been so... casual talking about his torture. It was so out of place with the normally guarded person Caretaker was used to seeing. The young man who dodged questions like bullets. Not... not this version.

   "This is good," Whumpee mumbled around a mouthful of egg. "Whumper never let me have good food -- he rarely let me have food in the first place, actually."

   So that explained why Whumpee had been so emaciated during his rescue, Caretaker noted. She'd originally thought he'd just been in so much pain at Whumper's base that eating hurt and wasn't worth it. She didn't realize Whumper had given him no food whatsoever for days at a time. It was barbaric.

   "Whumpee... I understand," Caretaker sighed softly, diverting his attention away from the trauma once more. "But you shouldn't keep talking. Save your energy and rest -- I'll talk to the doctor about putting you on antibiotics to get rid of that infection."

   "M'kay," Whumpee hummed in agreement, eyes cloudy and lost.

   The antibiotics worked wonders in the end, and Whumpee slowly got better.

   While Caretaker worked on gaining his full trust to get answers from him -- the right way.

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson

[blueishspace]

Hero, villain god 36

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Mumbo's pov*

Ever since that weird conversation you had a few days ago you have been looking into who mother spore could be ...You honestly thought it would be...well, not easy per say, but you thought you could at least find something on who mother spore could really be... Anything on her identity.

Perhaps mentions of her prior to when she appeared in your lab? Or another criminal with similiar abilities? A vigilante? An hero? But you found nothing of the sort, you found exactly zero mentions of anyone that could even come close to resembling her in description.

She is quite tall so you restricted the search to that general height but you found nothing, you expanded the search and still nothing. You found cases of people with mushroom or spores or even decay themed abilities but none of them resemble Mother Spore's. Maybe her powers is actually a very hidden type of technology? If so you must be much more ignorant of technology then you thought yourself to be. Maybe a mutation of some kind but if so why is it not recorded anywhere.

You were always a bit suspicious of her considering how she quite literally dropped into your life so suddenly but this... This is truly baffling, It's like she didn't exist and then just appeared one day in your lab...

...

...It's a bit enticing even, she has built this idea that's she's the brawn to your brain...the power to your mind... but she's clearly extremely well versed in covering up her traces or is in contact with someone else who is.

It's fascinating on an intellectual level but it's also terrifying on a personal one.

You were already suspicious of why she would need access to your network when you still didn't know she had managed to scrape off everything about her from the entire internet but now that you do knoe It's doubly as suspect... It seems you'll have to keep her extremely close....You have to know more...no, you need to know more. For your own safety at the very least.

*Cub's pov*

Grian is... Well, you don't particularly trust him yet, trust is not given easily especially by you and he's been in your life for a very short time.. looking at the calendar It's not even been a few weeks since you've met him and you talked like twice in that time.

He looks like a good guy so he has that going on for him, polite, pretty smart too as far as you can see... Scar has really taken a liking to him and now he's even met his sister and her friend group.

...You are happy for him of course, he deserves to have people outside of you to turn to, but it's hard to ignore how risky of a situation it is. It's not just Grian anymore, It's a group of strangers neither you or Scar know anything about...and even if they really are as good people as it seems they are from a glance there's always going to be the risk of Scar revealing to them too much and blowing both of their covers. It's anxiety inducing more then anything...

Still you decide to tolerate Grian for now, Scar might be oblivious at times but he's a good judge of character most of the time, so if he likes the new guy that much you'll give him a shot.

...

Then comes the medical examination, Scar thought it would be ideal for you to do one to Grian as well since you already do his pretty regularly. You can see the merit in that and agree easily, it would be easier to do both instead of letting the association do Grian's and then having to deal with them more then you already have to.

Which is what brought you here...with a machine breaking the moment you tried to analyze Grian's blood and multiple dna tests result coming out empty.

That is... definitely not normal. You have heard of powers changing the structure of dna before but never to this extent. It's not unheard of maybe but still, weird enough to keep on your mind, there might be more to Grian's power then it seems and knowing what could be helpful in the long run. You really hope there isn't something nefarious going on because you don't want to think of how Scar would react if there was.

"Scar?"

"Uh? Yes?"

"There were some complications with the tests"

"Oh no! Is anything broken??"

"Nothing important don't worry...just, bring Grian back for another visit soon. It's important."

"Alright!"

[jubileemon]

Hazbin Hotel: The Terrifying Reality of Overlord Domination

Both Husk and Angel Dust are victims of their circumstances, having their souls bound to the will of their overlords. Their experiences mirror real-world issues of abuse and exploitation, where individuals are trapped in cycles of control at the hands of those with power over them.

While both characters are subjected to manipulation and control, the nature and extent of their abuse differ significantly, reflecting the individual sadistic tendencies of their overlords. Valentino exhibits traits of control and abuse. Alastor's sadistic tendencies and enjoyment in inconveniencing Husk are paralleled by Valentino's predatory behavior towards his workers like Angel Dust.

While Husk's servitude to Alastor is marked by manipulation and intimidation, Angel Dust's experience with Valentino is characterized by sexual exploitation and abuse. These narratives serve as a grim reflection of real-life issues, where individuals find themselves trapped in cycles of control and mistreatment at the hands of those with power.

Valentino's Control Over Angel Dust

Valentino exerts control over Angel Dust through a soul contract, inflicting pain and torture as a means of coercion. His actions escalate to heinous levels, including sexual exploitation and physical violence, as he seeks to punish Angel Dust for his defiance and escape from servitude.

Bound by a demonic contract to Valentino, a moth demon, Angel's autonomy over his soul is compromised. This contract, which he signed under his given name, Anthony, effectively transfers ownership of his soul to Valentino, leaving him at the mercy of the demon's whims. The contract's terms are non-negotiable and enforce a grim reality where Angel must comply with Valentino's demands, no matter how degrading or exhausting they may be.

Husk's Fall from Grace and Enslavement to Alastor

In contrast, Alastor maintains a psychological grip on Husk, leveraging his vices and inducing fear to ensure compliance. Despite occasional gestures that may seem friendly, Alastor's true nature is revealed in moments of rage, where he threatens Husk with severe consequences for disobedience, highlighting his capacity for cruelty.

Once an Overlord, Husk experienced a fall from power after a losing streak in gambling led him to Alastor. The bet that cost him his soul also stripped him of his status, leaving him in a state of servitude to the Radio Demon. This power dynamic is a stark reminder of the precariousness of status in the underworld.

The episode 'Dad Beat Dad' serves as a chilling example of the extent of Alastor's control over Husk. When Husk dares to mention Alastor's own soul contract, he is met with uncharacteristic fury and threats of violence. This encounter leaves Husk in a state of terror, illustrating the abusive power wielded by overlords like Alastor.

His immediate threat to destroy Husk's soul if he divulges any information is a display of psychological warfare. The fear instilled in Husk, leaving him a 'shivering, terrified wreck,' is indicative of the abusive power Overlords hold over their subordinates. This incident serves as a reminder that Alastor's charisma masks a deeply sadistic nature, which can be as harmful as the physical abuse perpetrated by Valentino.

The Shared Victimhood of Husk and Angel Dust

Hazbin Hotel's portrayal of Husk and Angel Dust's situations is a grim reflection of the terror that comes with being under the thumb of an overlord. The show's narrative serves as an allegory for real-world power imbalances and the devastating impact they can have on individuals, making it a poignant commentary on abuse and the struggle for autonomy.

[kyouka-supremacy]

The thing about how Atsushi deals with Akutagawa is. Atsushi has always been terrified of retailing against his oppressors: to him, his oppressors were always in positions of power that he found impossible to rebel against. Akutagawa, on the other hand, was the first person Atsushi met who was socially accepted to fight back against. Akutagawa was presented to him as the big bad guy, everyone's evil enemy. Atsushi's got personal beef with him for how he treated Kyouka (which is very important for Atsushi, because if he never had it within him to stand for himself, at least he can stand for others). The person Atsushi looks up to the most repeatedly and unapologetically mistreats Akutagawa. Then mistreating Akutagawa must be allowed, right?

It's truly remarkable how despite the guess one would take judging from their good side / evil side affilations, more often than not it's Atsushi going for Akutagawa's throat than the other way round. Sure, Akutagawa threatens to kill Atsushi all the time– but that's exactly the point‚ he never actually follows through‚ and his real actions actually end up telling us his intentions are quite the opposite (re: “I won't kill you today because you look miserable” *saves Atsushi's life* *saves Atsushi's life* *dies to save Atsushi's life*). On the contrary, Atsushi's ALWAYS trying to attack Akutagawa both verbally and physically. Remember that time in chapter 51 when Dazai was keeping them separate? Back then, Akutagawa very much wasn't the one actively trying to attack the other. Not to mention the “You fight 'cos you want to be feared– that's far more worthless in my book” and of course the “It's no wonder Dazai-san chose to abandon you and disappear”. There's even the “if a fight is what you want, then I'll take you on” like lmao, of course you will. The thing is, Atsushi has always found it socially acceptable to retail against, loathe, fight and hurt Akutagawa no-guilt-attached like he never had the chance to with any other abuser. Please keep in mind how thanks to Dead Apple we know that the only other time Atsushi ever fought back someone who was hurting him, it was a most instinctive and involuntary reaction that ended up with him killing them and which gave him several trauma and unresolved self-hatred and feeling of guilt for life.

But hurting Akutagawa, that's peer approved. And it sounds quite cruel, and Atsushi is a fundamentally selfish character, yet it must have come off as so refreshing and even liberating for him to finally have someone he can openly hate, someone he could drop the facade of the polite, harmless guy in front of. That's why I can actually find it believable that Atsushi would, very subconsciously, look forward to fight against Akutagawa; as a way to let off steam, you know? A chance to finally stop acting and start behaving like his true self, determined, brave, protective, a bit of a prick. Not to mention, fights against Akutagawa seemingly always end up as a self-esteem boosts for Atsushi in a way or the other. That's why I wonder: if Akutagawa is the only person Atsushi can be himself with, if he's the only one he can act natural around without feeling he has to put up a front for; what about when Atsushi will stop hating him? Which doesn't sound that unlikely, I mean, after chapter 88 and everything. I'm not saying he's going to forgive Akutagawa for everything he's ever done but like... The perception Atsushi has of him must have changed to an extent, his judgement shifted at least a tiny bit. Then, Atsushi will be left with only one person he can freely be himself with, and he doesn't even hate him that much anymore. Just thinking about that.

[pokemonblack3white3]

2 things about your whole Hisuian Kiki thing:

1. Aside from Perrin's picture and maybe also capturing Bloodmoon Ursaluna, how much does Kieran does influence Sinnoh and other locations in the present due to his stay at Hisui? Like I feel like things could alter a bit for Lucas, Dawn, Barry, Rowan, the Gym Leaders, the E4, Cynthia and Team Galactic.

2. If the Kiki's Team makes it into the current day, what would be their relationships to Kiki's OG Teams and the Teams of his friends? (Dragonite and Garchomp must be rivals lol)

HELLO sorry it took me a bit to get to this ask!!! So I am going to have to get back to you on the first part because I'm actually not quite sure yet (this au is still very under consteuction) BUT this did seriously make me consider Kieran's pokemon and I've squished my thoughts below VV

For now I'll just talk about the relationships between Kieran and his two teams. Kieran is not close at all to his modern team, while the dangers of Hisui forced him to become closer to those pokemon. When Kieran gets back home, first he needs to better his relationship with his modern team. It also takes his Hisui team a while to get used to the modern day and the new battling system.

You're right about the rivalry! Pebbles (garchomp) has a very one-sided rivalry with both Meez (dragonite) and Carrie (hydrapple). She's furious that she is no longer Kieran's only big scary dragon. Meez will respond when provoked, while Carrie is more relaxed, but both of them are stronger than Pebbles and they all know it. While Pebbles has the most issues with Meez and Carrie, she has trouble getting along with all of Kieran's modern team due to the huge gap in strength between them and Pebbles' own feelings of inferiority.

Carrie gets along particularly well with Small (decidueye), and they're probably the closest cross-team friendship. Gizmo (bronzong) overall has the best track record with the modern team, and vice versa for Carrie, though to a lesser extent than Gizmo. Fifi (phione) is a bit intimidated by Kieran's modern team, which isn't helped by the fact that Honey (incineroar) has tried to use them several times as a cat toy. Sadle (porygon-z) is a bit all over the place and has a tendency to jump at their own shadow, while Rufus (grimmsnarl) is very aggressive, so they have the hardest time adjusting to their new teammates. All of the modern team are terrified of Moon (bloodmoon ursaluna). Curly (clefable) and Pongo (politoed) start off on bad terms but quickly become best friends. Fifi and Pongo also get along.

It takes a while, but eventually, both teams are able to integrate with each other. The biggest hurdles are probably getting Honey to stop being a cat about it, trying to calm Sadle down long enough to give the Hisui team a chance, Pebbles' whole thing, and convincing the modern team that Moon isn't going to eat them.

[deus-sema]

What sold me on Nosferatu 2024 even before the first teaser dropped was its basic premise: A gothic tale of obsession between a haunted young woman and the terrifying vampire infatuated with her, causing untold horror in its wake.

Obsession - when explored within the safe confines of imagination, fiction, music and art - has several possibilities because, over there, it is allowed to transform and, even, transcend its rudimentary state. But what's especially fascinating for me is when it is fused together with devotion. It's the idea of being consumed by desire for someone to such an extent that it turns into worship.

The story starts with Ellen frantically praying to whoever out there that was willing to heed her call but by the time, she reunites with Orlok, the dynamic has flipped. It's he who is her ardent worshipper starved for a glimpse of his deity. It doesn't please him but it is what it is. In his own words, he views Ellen as not from this world.

When he visits her and right before he issues his three day ultimatum, he is hesitant to touch her despite being inches away from her face and there is an unwilling reverence filled in him for her.

He considers himself loathsome and incapable of love. Yet, shouldn't the divine see what mere human eyes are incapable of? Shouldn't divinity be above the narrow mindedness of humankind? Shouldn't Ellen, of all people, understand him and reward him for his unnerving faith? What a sincere devotee expects from their deity in exchange of their faith is acceptance and assurance that they will never be left alone. God or Gods, if they exist, alone can be perfect and they are omnipresent. They can be with anyone at any given time. Their affection and company can be provided to all creatures alike. Hence, many of those who are both devout and selfish, are willing to share what's sacred for them and to them with others.

But Ellen is, at the end of the day, human. Orlok is well aware of that. She cannot give all of her to him while she is bound to others. He is angered upon being spurned by her. Still, fanatic that he is, his devotion must be reciprocated, he must unite with her even if it destroys them both, because the alternative would be eternal torment for him.

[muffinsin]

Muffin! Muffin! Who do you think is the jealous type between the sisters, and to what extent does this jealousy go?

Double post today!!🙌

Hey there :) here’s a few quick thoughts of mine on this:

(Masterlists)

While they love each other incredibly much, and would even go so far as to die to protect one another and their mother, there certainly is jealousy between them

And not only a little bit, too

Bela is sometimes jealous of her younger sisters due to how carefree they are

Especially Daniela has never known the burdens of the eldest sister that Bela carries daily

Sometimes, at quiet times, she finds herself grieving for the carefreeness she rarely experienced, and is in turn incredibly jealous of her sisters for it

Sometimes, she can’t help it, she’s especially hard on Daniela because of this, but always apologizes and makes it up to her after

Another thing she’s a little jealous of- something she finds rather silly herself- is Cassandra’s hair color

Bela is an extreme Mommy’s girl. She tries to be just like her mama, wants to be as smart and beautiful and intimidating and kind and successful as her

Wants to make her so happy!

But, maybe above all, Bela wants people to know that she’s hers

And people do, certainly, having heard of the three terrifying daughters of Alcina Dimitrescu

Yet, sometimes she can’t help but think that a stranger would have a hard time guessing she’s her daughter due to her different appearance

Whereas Cassandra…with her similar build and brunette hair that, when wet, looks just like Alcina’s shade of black…

She never brings this jealousy up, and tries hard not to think about it

Never does she act differently towards Cassandra for it, either. She loves her little sister, will always protect her, though can’t help a pang of jealousy when Cassandra asks her to play with her hair on stormy nights

It only ever creeps up on her on bad days, when she finds herself crying a little, seeing the blonde strands in the corner of her eye

And lastly, a type of jealousy all three share equally; surrounding the question of who mama’s favorite is

Secretly, all think it’s them

Bela especially is sure it must be her. Mama showers her in praise, and she works so hard! She’s the eldest. Mama’s first born!

And yet, it rubs her the wrong way when Daniela, obviously trying to rile her older sisters up, sing songs about how she is the obvious favorite

In return, both other sisters snarl in annoyance whenever the third claims the same

They will forever love one another, but Alcina has often found them play-fight and bite at each other in a fight to settle who the favorite is- something Alcina tries hard to assure them is no such thing

Cassandra certainly experiences jealousy as well

At times, she wishes she was seen more

She knows her role as the huntress, knows this is what she enjoys and what she’s good at

Yet, she can’t help but be jealous of how Daniela can effortlessly wrap their mother around her finger, or how close Bela and Mother seem to be due to them working together

She would never indulge it, let alone show it, but secretly craves to be the favorite

She wants to be loved more than others, seen more than others. She knows this is wrong, knows Alcina loves them all equally

She can’t help it though, still

As such, a nasty type of jealousy settles in her on bad days whenever her sisters are gifted something or praised

She knows, Mother would do the exact same to her, often even does a moment later, and yet that jealousy doesn’t go away

Unlike her older sister, Cassandra chose not to be alone with this, though

On a particularly bad day, when jealousy and insecurity was eating her alive- a rare time for her- she decided to confide in Bela

Curled up in her bed together, held close by her older sister, Cassandra shared most of these thoughts then

And they certainly get better, if only for a while

In a way, Bela manages to make the jealousy go away by spending this time with her younger sister, showing her that she too has someone wrapped around her finger, someone that loves her unconditionally, someone to take care of her

She’s grateful for it, though rarely voices it. She knows her sister knows, though

And lastly, Cassandra is at rare times plagued by another kind of jealousy

Now, to say she’s jealous of the duke would be an incredible overstatement

She scowls when she looks at the man-thing, if she looks at him at all

No, she finds herself better than him in every single way…except one

The freedom he has

Not only can he be out in winter, but he can move past the village, exploring the world and bringing back items obtained from cities and towns across the world

She can only sigh dreamily at the thought of the world, curled up by the invisible line her mother drew in the forest. The line her and her sisters are not to cross, even when hunting

The line to the outside world

Daniela, although some might think she has all she wants, can certainly experience jealousy as well

Now, often this is mixed with awe, or sadness

For example, she often finds herself wishing, begging and praying to Mother Miranda that she could be just like Bela, so smart and cool headed, controlled and strategic, so eager to learn and study effortlessly

Alas, she is hardly any of these things, no matter how hard she tries

Textbooks bore her, literature hardly captures her interest

She can’t figure out the maths and diagrams Bela studies so hard at work

She’s often reassured; she doesn’t need to. She’s the baby of the family, her eldest sister’s got it

If only she could be like Bela.., she sometimes thinks, unsure whether she is jealous or in utter awe of her older sister. Or perhaps both

Cassandra is the same case

Often, Daniela wishes she could be as strong and powerful as her, as skilled at the hunt, as intimidating

But no matter how hard she tries, she never gets as good as her older sister

Often, this frustrates her, has her cry or lash out at her sisters only to end up coming crying to them, apologizing and asking Cassandra for another story of her recent hunts

And of course even Alcina falls into the category of her jealousy and awe

She wants to be as beautiful as her, though is ever impatient of why that doesn’t work

She’s stuck in her body, growing older, yet never looking it

She can never look as mature and rich as Alcina, always stuck looking like the young twenty-something baby of the family

And still, this type of jealousy hardly extends to things. Often, it makes her more clingy though and in need of reassurance

A far uglier type of jealousy is the one she experiences as it comes to the maidens

Often, and she doesn’t even know why, she feels intense waves of jealousy when a maiden approaches her sisters

Whether she lives or not is irrelevant to Daniela

“Why wasn’t I the chosen one?!”, she often thinks then

She especially hates it when Bela is fancied by the maidens, knowing her older sister rarely indulges them and throws them no hints at all!

It’s as though she gets them completely effortlessly, while Daniela tries so hard for love and is often unsuccessful

Once, it got very ugly, something she deeply regrets even as Bela is long over it

During a particularly emotional and hard time for her, when she lashed out and tore her claw-like nails through the maid that was on her best way to becoming her sister’s partner

She never meant to take away her sister’s happiness..she just couldn’t stand the way the woman looked at her sister and not her

Never did something like that happen again, but, much to Daniela’s dismay, the thoughts often return

All in all, the three sisters love each other more than anything else, except maybe Alcina, and are willing to do anything for one another

They will always be one another’s priority, despite the jealousy and fights that often naturally come up between them

[my-name-is-apollo]

Wanna share some newly found Admetus x Apollo crumbs!! because I just love them and they never fail to make me go feral every time I read something about them!!

This time it's from a latin poem "Alcestis Barcinonensis", and as the name suggests it narrates the story of Alcestis. But it also has Admetus and Apollo having a conversation with each other - which I've never seen before in any of the texts, so this poem has stirred my feels (again).

It starts with Admetus calling upon Apollo to answer his questions about his future:

"If I worshipped you ever; if I ever offered you support when you came to me as a terrified servant after the gods' charge against you"

Just...Imagine being Admetus. You worship a god ardently, and that god turns up at your door step as your servant (a terrified servant) and you get to shelter him, accept him. Support him at his lowest. And this god falls in love with you and is serving you in a way that feels like he is worshipping you. ("I am myself godly, and in Admetus, son of Pheres, I found a godly man." - Apollo in Euripides' Alcestis) It is dishonorable for the god but he doesn't care, he is ready to go to any extent to keep you happy.

A commentary on this poem points out how Admetus' addresses Apollo in this way with an intent of binding the god to himself:

I'm kinda loving how this characterises Admetus as being selfish, or at least insensitive with his request to Apollo. Yes he knows Apollo is no longer his slave, but he knows very well he can still bind Apollo to him and he doesn't hesitate to take advantage of it.

Apollo doesn't have to oblige, because he has already served Admetus exceptionally well during his years of servitude. Even afterwards, he has done enough favours for Admetus - helped him get a wife, saved him from Artemis' wrath. But of course, he still comes to do him yet another favour. It's very fitting that their story is used as an example for servitium amoris (slavery of love) by other poets like Ovid and Tibullus. Despite being free, in his heart he's still a slave to Ademtus' love. Maybe that's why Apollo lets himself get easily bound when Admetus requests for it. He probably knows that this is not entirely fair, but he still answers it because perhaps everything he has done so far is still not enough for him (or perhaps yielding to Admetus' requests has become a fond habit of his)

Back to the poem, this is Apollo's answer to Admetus:

"I grieve for you, but I must tell you the truth. Death is pressing upon you."

Apollo says he is already grieving for Admetus. He must have known that for a while huh. For how long has he been mourning Admetus in secret? :')

He not only answers the questions, but also goes beyond by letting Admetus know how to escape death - something Admetus hadn't asked for (but that probably would have been Admetus' next request). It seems like Apollo is just as desperate to save Admetus as Admetus is to save himself, and maybe he was waiting for the day Admetus would selfishly ask this of him.

Admetus has to find someone to die in his place, so that he can live longer. Given how in Ovid's poem Apollo wishes to renounce his godhood so that he could die with Hyacinthus, I don't think it would be a stretch to imagine that if it was possible, Apollo would have given his years (at least some of his years) to Admetus. Instead, Apollo tells him to ask his parents, wife and children. Where both his parents refuse, Alcestis gladly agrees to die in her husband's place.

Alcestis agrees to die, first and foremost because it will bring her glory. She will be praised and remembered for being a pious wife. And she will not have to live the life of a widow. That doesn't make her sacrifice any less noble or selfless at all...

But the thing is, while both Apollo and Alcestis go out of their way to save Admetus, Alcestis' act of saving her husband brings her glory and honor, but Apollo's part in saving Admetus only brings him dishonor and scorn from other gods. But that doesn't stop Apollo from still trying to do something for Admetus, to save him in whatever way possible. In Alcestis, Apollo even tries to save Alcestis by negotiating with Thanatos. All for the sake of Admetus.

Like just how much can a god love a mortal?

[curtis-brothers-hug]

The grief that Johnny and Dallas must have felt over the Curtis parents.

It’s the worst of both worlds for them. They lost the only parental figures they ever had, but because they weren’t their actual parents, their grief wasn’t acknowledged on the same level as the Curtis children. The Curtis’ got all the condolences, they got none. All of the grief with none of the support. (Not that the Curtis’ got that much support, really.)

And not that Johnny or Dallas wanted anyone to notice. If someone had approached Dallas Winston and said “sorry for your loss,” he would have slugged them. Both of them would die before revealing how lost and alone and terrified they felt, how utterly destabilized at losing their only safety net, their only safe haven. Besides, what right did they have? Their job was to help the Curtis brothers. This was about Darry and Soda and Ponyboy, not them.

But at least the Curtis brothers had each other. And course Two-Bit and Steve were grieving too, but Two-Bit had a decent mom and Steve was Soda’s person. Johnny and Dallas were all alone. And at least the brothers still got to grow up having the Curtis’ as parents. Losing their parents wouldn’t undo the effects of having been raised by them. Johnny and Dallas never got the foundation of love and stability and comfort that the Curtis kids got to have from the day they were born. Johnny and Dallas had to go through losing something they never even got to have in the first place.

The Curtis’ may be traumatized by their parents’ death, but at least they weren’t traumatized by their parents’ life. They’re lucky enough to feel unambiguous grief. If Johnny or Dallas’ parents died, they would be relieved. They’re so angry it was the Curtis parents instead of one of theirs. In a way, Johnny and Dallas were never more jealous of the Curtis brothers than after seeing their reaction to their parents’ death. That’s another reason they were determined to take the focus off of themselves, because they absolutely could not burden the Curtis’ with shit like that.

They both must have had suicidal thoughts. They both already had them, and there’s no way this incident wouldn’t amplify the volume of those thoughts until it was deafening. They both were the only ones to know that about the other, and the only reason they didn’t go through with it was because of each other.

Johnny and Dallas were the only ones who ever saw the full extent of each others’ grief over the parents they never had, but still lost.

[gatheringbones]

[“Though in the light of hindsight much of the NLF training program must seem to be little more than a thoroughgoing civics course, there was one aspect of it that went beyond all the boundaries which Westerners customarily draw around the concept “education.” This was the institution of khiem thao, “criticism” or “self-criticism” (the words mean “to verify” and “to discuss”).

Used previously by the Chinese Communists and the Viet Minh, khiem thao was a “truth game” in which every member of the organization from the lowliest soldier to the highest cadre had to participate. In the “criticism sessions,” held on a regular basis as a part of the daily activities, each NLF member had to admit his own failings and given his honest opinion about the conduct of all the other members of the group. Within the sessions he did not have to fear punishment for his own errors other than the most devastating one of concerted group criticism. Only if he refused to participate would he incur the final penalty of expulsion by the group.

Khiem thao was a game in which the rules of life were suspended, but it was a game designed to reach back into life and change its players. When the NLF recruits came into the army or the administration, they arrived almost totally insulated from their fellow men by their masks of “politeness.” Suspicious of both their commanders and their peers, they remained attentistes, always watching for a sign of trouble, always on the point of defection. The khiem thao sessions forced them to participate, forced them to break down all the defenses which they had built up around them in childhood.

For the newcomer “criticism” was a terrifying experience. “When they were being criticized,” reported one squad leader, “their manner was correct and humble, but when the khiem thao was over, some would leave the unit to go home or to rally to the GVN, while others would swear and then forget all about it. We lost a lost of men because of those criticism sessions. After all, every man has his self-respect, and when his short-comings were brought up publically, he was hurt.”

But to the extent that khiem thao was painful, so it was perhaps necessary to the functioning of the entire organization. If the recruits could not strip themselves of their anxieties about each other and the power of the group, they could not begin to work together or to commit themselves to a common cause. Without a real psychological readjustment, their loyalties to any organization, other than that of their own families, would remain only surface deep. Given the newcomer’s ambivalence between fear of the group and desire to belong to it, the cadres had to strike a delicate balance in their disciplinary measures. As one Party manual warned:

The criticism must be made in a spirit of mutual, comradely affection, helping each other to reform. But criticism in a hostile spirit does harm, causes loss of face, goes too far, etc. Criticism of this kind really causes divisions and prejudices in the Party. It is not useful for helping each other to correct defects, in a spirit of compassion, to advance together.

In practice the Party cadres attempted to restrain the low-level guerrilla fighters from discussing more than the details of the day-to-day work. (Burchett, for instance, observed several of these tactical khiem thao sessions going on in the intervals between the practice attacks on the GVN blockhouse.) Discussion of more profound and difficult matters was reserved for those who had already developed strong attachments to the Front — and was used primarily as a corrective. If a supply system broke down or a battalion performed badly in a fight, not only the top-ranking officers, but the entire group of cadres who bore some responsibility for the operation would meet for a period of perhaps two or three weeks to discuss their technical errors and the obstacles in their communication with each other.

No one but the NLF cadres themselves know what went on at these sessions, and thus it is possible only to imagine the process in a rather distant and abstract manner. Given a safe forum in which to express his own grievances, the cadre came to see that he did not depend directly on any one member of the group. He could put his case on the table with some assurance that it would be judged on its own merits rather than on a personal basis. When, as must frequently have happened, two members quarreled, the group would not dissolve itself until the matter was settled by mutual agreement. With some experience at khiem thao the cadre would grow less and less afraid to disagree with another member, for he would realize that by initiating a verbal conflict he did not risk his entire career in the Front, or indeed his life. By the same token, he would come to understand that when others criticized him for mishandling a situation, they were not doing it from motives other than that of desire to get the job done better the next time. The knowledge came as a revelation — though one perhaps gradually arrived at; and if he allowed it to, that revelation could change his life. What mattered now was not the maintenance of “face,” but the competence to deal with the “objective” problems that confronted the entire group.

By forcing the cadres into conflict and limiting the damage done by it, the khiem thao sessions opened up entirely new channels of communication within the NLF. From the outside it is impossible to match cause exactly with result. But it takes only a small stretch of the imagination to see that in melting down the whole hierarchical structure of relationships the khiem thao gave the NLF a strength that could be measured in battalions. If, for instance, a number of soldiers from one company died or deserted, the local Front commander would have an excellent chance of hearing about his losses and taking measures to deal with them. His counterpart in the ARVN, by contrast, rarely knew how many men he commanded. The ARVN company, battalion, and regimental commanders made it a general practice to conceal their losses in the hopes of disguising their own failures or of collecting the pay due to the missing men.”]

frances fitzgerald, from fire in the lake: the vietnamese and the americans in vietnam, 1972

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

unearthing an old loz au :D

Extensive rambling and plot and everything in between below

ok so I made this au over a year ago and the other day in an attempt to procrastinate my brain reminded me of it so here it is! Redesigned!

Ummm basically this version of Hyrule has already fallen to Ganon, and (much like in Narnia) it got very, very cold as a result (I’m still working on the exact ins and out of this, but there IS a reason why lol)

Therefore, Zelda’s clothes are A), very warm, with lots of layers, and B), rather hodgepodged together, as they’re all borrowed. She hasn’t been able to wear her royal clothes in years, as she’s hiding from Ganon. And also most of them burned with Hyrule Castle.

so the embroidered frock (embroidered with flowers for symbolism reasons) thingie is about as princessy as her clothes will get XD

the reason she masquerades as Sheik in this au is more to hide from Link than Ganon. The latter is unaware that the princess escaped, while Link has some issues he’s working through lol

basically, when the kingdom was very suddenly overthrown, a confused and unimportant kid named Link (who was aware of the danger due to reasons I’ll get around to if I post his design), managed to save Zelda, who was still pretty young, and very much terrified. Terrified to see her terrified, Link’s protective side activated, and, well, it never really un-activated after that.

He managed to get her to a quiet, little known town on the outskirts of Hyrule, where some Sheikah (notably Impa) had taken refuge as well. They promised to guard her, and Link headed off to suffer the slow realization that he was a hero alone.

meanwhile, Zelda grew up, and grew stronger, and (once again due to things I won’t quite talk about yet) began to understand her duty towards her people, and to the hero. But, when Link returned to inform Impa of the plans he had made, he was very against Zelda helping him in any way (mainly out of fear for her).

so Zelda came along as Sheik instead :D

A few little things of note, now

I am vaguely basing Link’s inner struggle off my older brother… Link and Zelda do not have a brother/sister relationship however; it ends up a romance >:)

The only difference between Sheik and Zelda is simply that by the time Link sees her again as Sheik, she has dyed her hair and she’s been in the sun a bit more… magic is not involved in this case. Honestly it only works because Link didn’t know Zelda very well before lol

Zelda likes to sew, and garden as much as the climate will let her.

She has a very bright personality, but she takes what other people say to heart. I’ve found whenever I make an loz au, Zelda and/or Link don’t start out with Wisdom and Courage, but rather must gain it to some extent. This story is no different.

In some cases, I focus only on one of them, but this story specifically is about both. They grow together, just like Hyrule must grow again :D

in this story, they are all traumatized. Including Ganon. (he also has a backstory I’m working on hehe)

finally, the sheik design is not final… I’m still working on it lol

ok, that’s it! Byeeeeee