#this has been sitting in my drafts for so long

[semisolidmind]

Ok how bout' this

What if Reader had a villager boyfriend who sadly had to travel to another place for buisiness but promised to Marry her after he comes back, juste imagine how devastated he is when he Sees what the Monkey King and His general did to His village, and how determined he is to dare set foot in his palace to save Reader after learning what they did with HER

(NOT writing for lmk right now, but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and it's already pretty long, so it'd be a waste to just delete it.)

deepest apologies to this hypothetical man, but there's really no way he's ever gonna see reader again.

however, let's entertain the idea that this guy is so dang devoted to reader that, after traveling for a bit and figuring out who's responsible for his entire town's dissapearance, he's determined to get her back.

let's say this guy manages to not only find a magical island (that most folks aren't even sure really exists), get onto the island and past the lower level of defenses (tough terrain and wild animals), sneak past the sentries, and get close enough to the water curtain cave to find reader; all without being spotted. perhaps she's sitting beneath a tree, reading, minding her own business, not expecting him at ALL,

and then there he is. he tugs at her hands, pulling her up and with him. he tells her in a rush that he's come to free her and that they should leave right now, c'mon we gotta go—!

but reader pulls back. her heart is pounding a mile a minute, fear for her once-partner striking her nerves. if her husbands find him here, trying to pull her away...she doesn't want to imagine what they'll do to him. he'll never see the light of day again, that's for certain. reader doesn't want to see another blameless mortal die because of her.

despite the pain in her heart, reader pushes the man away. she tells him he has to leave without her, that attempting to take her back will only get him killed.

but he insists that because he's come this far, she must go with him. he's braved so many dangers, all for her and their promise. the man is practically begging reader to go, still tugging her in the direction of the beach.

reader shakes her head, tears gathering in her eyes. she implores him, please, to just go, forget about her and leave this place before—!

reader gasps.

speak of the devil.

the imposing figure of sun wukong lands heavily behind her former love (who at least has the common sense to look scared out of his mind). the demon makes quite the chilling image; the deadly angles of his paldrons and the imperious, quiet sway of his cape and headress all lending themselves to the visage of a cruel warlord.

the monkey king's eyes burn with rage. he comes home, ready to see his beloved wife, only to find this...unkempt, filthy, desperate mortal man putting his hands on her. he can see that his wife has been upset by this vagrant.

wukong begins to pull his staff from behind his ear, planning to remedy the situation immediately.

reader can only hope that her begging will be enough to save the hapless human man before her. so, she gets right to it.

reader throws herself into a kowtow at her husbands' feet. she pleads with the seething demon, attempting to get him to see reason. this act stuns wukong long enough for him to catch some of what she's saying; he vaguely remembers her speaking of this "fiance" during he and his brothers' time as her little companions, and they rarely saw him. they never liked him, obviously. he stole their peaches' attention from where it ought to be. wukong wants to just kill him, but...

he looks to the woman still kneeling at his feet. he sighs. he can deny her nothing.

his poor, sweet, tender-hearted peach.

wukong pulls reader up. in hushed tones he tells her to never, never kowtow to him like that again; especially on behalf of someone so undeserving. she is his queen. he doesn't want to see her lower herself in that way.

he gathers reader to him, angling her away from her past suitor. then, he turns to the fool who somehow made it to his carefully-hidden island home unscathed. looking the bedraggled human up and down apprasingly, wukong gets an awful idea. he smirks.

the monkey king, so impressed by the man's bravery and devotion, will allow him to live at his queen's request...on one condition.

he must either leave immediately, never to return...or, should his devotion run so deep...

he must beat one of reader's husbands in a fight, fair and square.

so, what will reader's doomed former fiancé do?

ending a: the man foolishly takes the bet.

reader panics and begs him to reconsider: doesn't he know who he just accepted a challenge from? how little his chances of success are?!

the man ignores her, confidently (or as confidently as he can given the circumstances) staring the monkey king down. the simian ruler states that if the man can beat either him or his brother in a fight, no powers, just brute strength and skill, then they'll let reader return with him to the mainland.

now, the man did his research before coming to the island. he knows who's in charge of this island, knows his legends, his strength; he leveled the man's entire town for gods' sake.

but the man feels as though he must fight. at least for his own honor and pride, if not reader's as well. and, in perhaps his most idiotic decision yet, he comes up with an idea he believes will make the fight easier.

he agrees, not to fight the monkey king, but his brother instead.

reader smacks a hand to her forehead (the action drawing a laugh from her husband). she can't believe her former fiance's stupidity. it stands to reason anyone associated with, let alone related to the monkey king would be impossibly strong (or, at the very least, much stronger than a normal human).

although, she supposes she can't fault the man entirely. macaque is discreet in all his dealings (his "shadow general" moniker comes from more than just his powers). she figures the foolish oaf must not know who the darker-furred monkey demon is, and what he's capable of.

the six-eared macaque is summoned, already aware of the situation, and the combatants, the king and queen, and a few (many) spectators make their way to the arena.

to his credit, the human man is doing a very good job at hiding the tremble in his hands. having been offered a fine selection of weapons, the man holds a sword. reader tries once more to convince the man to give up, citing that a few years of weapons training with a local retired military general when he was a teenager does not equate to magically enhanced strength and thousands of years worth of experience in every weapon imaginable.

but the man doesn't listen. he's got something to prove now, and nothing reader says will sway him.

with a sigh, reader resigns herself to the fate the man has chosen for himself. she can't help but remember that he was like this when they were still in the village, too; never listening, always assuming the way that things were was simply how they had to be. she cannot help him now, and so she makes her way back to her kingly husband's side. he grins at her when she sits down, and she shoots him an admonishing glare in response. he laughs fondly at the look.

the duel goes the way one could expect.

though the man is clearly trying his best, he could never have hoped to make even a dent in the shadow generals' defense. the difference in skill is laughable. macaque chose a simple staff as his weapon, and though the man's sword is sharp and quick, it's nothing in the face of the monkey demon's expertise.

macaque is clearly playing, allowing the human to get just close enough before dodging nimbly out of the way. he doesn't even have to use his powers. this is nothing more than a silly game.

and eventually, the shadowy simian grows tired of his playmate. after a short time landing a few blows (purposefully feather-light so as not to kill, just bruise), macaque lands a hit so hard it throws the man across the arena. the battered human hits the wall with a noise that makes reader wince, and falls to the dirt.

the crowd starts to get rowdy as their second in command stalks towards his exhausted, near-dead prey. the poor fool can barely lift his head, and his arms quake from exhaustion.

macaque is more than happy to dispatch this interloper before the gathered spectators, and throws a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure reader is watching. he won't say it, but he can't help but think that if he had found the man before wukong, none of this would've been necessary. the human would already be dead for the crime of attempting to steal his wife away.

but, macaque supposes, a little show couldn't hurt, could it?

he raises his staff, and in a move almost too quick to see, swipes it under the comatose human to toss him into the air. the demon jumps after him, then smacks him to the dirt below.

the human that was once reader's fiance is little more than a bloody pile of broken bones and torn flesh on the ground.

macaque lands gracefully beside it, stands, then bows to the crowd.

the applause drowns out reader's little sob, though both her husbands hear it clearly. there are no tears that they can see, however, and they know it's more their darling peach's aversion to violence that makes her cry than any real attachment to the corpse before her.

she did her best to convince him to leave peacefully, wukong coos to her, holding her hand and nuzzling the side of her face.

it's not her fault that he foolishly chose his pride over his life.

macaque jumps up to where reader and wukong sit, grabbing reader's attention and her hand.

he reaffirms wukongs point, telling her that the man decided his own fate, which is more than what he deserved given the circumstances.

the dark-furred demon presses a gentle kiss to reader's hand, and she can feel his satisfied smirk against her skin.

ending b: the man, in perhaps his smartest move so far, mournfully flees for the beach.

reader sighs in relief. at least he was wise enough to take the out that was handed to him, she thinks. she looks to wukong and quietly thanks him for letting the man go.

wukong smiles gently at his wife. he laughs the situation off with a joke and urges her to banish it from her mind. with a kiss, he sends her back into the stone palace.

the monkey king's smile fades when his wife is out of sight. he looks out to the unending sea beyond the islands' sands. if he leaves it alone, that same sea will likely kill the interloper with no added effort on his part.

he's not content with that idea. so, wukong stands there for a long while, and watches as the boat and its treacherous passenger get further and further away.

the man's boat floats to the horizon before the monkey king whispers a command only his ever-listening brother can hear.

kill him.

the king sees the far-off speck dissapear beneath the waves into a dark, swirling portal.

with a grin, he banishes the whole affair from his mind, turning with a flourish to join his wife in their palace.

[eyelessfaces]

this little thing has been sitting in my drafts for so long, it's finally time to let it out – you help marc tie his tie

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

buy me a coffee ☕︎

He rolled his eyes, wetting his lips, head tilted and looking at the ceiling. “I know how to tie a tie.” he grumbled under his breath before looking down at you as you untied the messy knot he had just made and had quickly gotten angry at. –He didn’t. He didn’t know how to tie a tie, and he hated having to do it when Jake wasn’t here. Marc was not a patient man, and frankly it suited him pretty well that you had offered him your help, even if he wouldn’t admit it because he was angry at himself for not even being able to do the futile action of tying a tie.

“Do you?” you asked, looking up at him in disbelief. “Have you even ever needed to really dress up and put a tie on?” 

Since you were together, the few times where he happened to need to dress up, he just put on a plain white shirt and a suit jacket and called it a day.

He had needed to wear a tie before. The first time was long ago, and he unfortunately remembered it clearly – when he was a child, for his brother’s funeral, but his father had tied it for him, giving him a weak, saddened smile when he was done.

“I have. But I hate those” he mumbled under his breath, hating the thought of the memory, and you pinched your lips as you tied the fabric around his collar. “It’s uncomfortable and suffocating.”

“Well you don’t have to tighten it all the way up” you declared as you showed him, tightening the knot loose enough so it wouldn’t choke him. “The point is not to choke you, it should just,” you pause, adjusting the knot. “–Hang around your shirt collar, not your neck” You brought his collar down and smoothed it so it sat properly. “Does it feel okay?” 

He pinched his lips, nodding weakly.

“See? No need to get worked up.” you gave him a small grin, and he forced a smile of the same kind, as he sat down on the edge of your shared bed.

“I usually leave it to Steven and Jake” 

This very specific statement always meant that there was something deeper behind, usually something he didn’t want to talk about – it was just the way Marc was, barely scratching the surface of things, peeling the smallest amount possible off his problems. 

“I’ll gladly take the task from now on” you smiled, this smile growing even wider as he rested his hand over yours to lightly, appreciatively squeeze it. “And I’ll happily take it off of you when we come back” you grinned, lightly tugging on his tie with your other hand.

He chuckled, lacing his fingers with yours. “Don’t make me excited to come back already. Or to not go at all” he smirked, the frown over his face finally cleared away. 

—

moon knight taglist:

@scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry 

@mystinky-butt @anightshift @wibblywobblytimesindeed @whatthefishh @grxywindd 

@campingwiththecharmings @bubuslutty @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry 

@jakecockley @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @cocodiem @pedropascalsidechick @spxctorsslxt 

@friedwings @weasleybuns @luxisluxurious @himesuedi @daisydark 

@violet-19999 @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 

@unear7hly @pigeonmama @c-losur3 @mari-thesimp @klillaah 

@Spicydonut25 @buckyssugarchick

[ollypopwrites]

Weekly WIP Preview

Got tagged by the wonderful @razildor to share some WIP goodness.

This is a (very rough first draft) bit from a fic I’m working on called Grace and Fervor, which highlights Emmrich’s perspective on falling in love with Mourn Watcher Rook. I’m undecided if it’s going to be explicitly about Vanya Ingellvar.

It features some fun head canons i have about magic and mourn watch stuff!!!

As usual, pls forgive how rough this is. I’m a firm believer in First Drafts just being about getting the words on the screen.

no pressure tagging @flightlessangelwings @bankabb (ART WIPS IFYOU FEEL UP TO ITTTT) and @aldisobey

“Got a bit sidetracked there,” Rook said as they made their way back towards the Veil Jumper camp and the eluvian. “Sorry, Bel.”

“No,” the elf said quickly. “No, that was good! I think I get it now, the Mourn Watch stuff.” She smiled genuinely but sadly, “thanks for doing all of that, I’ll let Irelin know where to find the bodies.” Then she jumped as if she had been shocked by her own electrical magic, “oh! I did want to grab something from the artifact vault, I completely forgot! Damn, and we were just there!” She groaned, “I’m sorry. Can we go back? It’ll be quick!”

“Of course we can,” Rook said easily.

Bellara hurried forward, leading the way back towards the vault. Emmrich stayed a few steps behind with Rook, hands behind his back.

“You did wonderfully with that spirit, Rook,” he complimented. “It pleases me that we can enlighten others on how to prevent Spirits from getting into those knots that make them lash out.”

Rook smiled, genuinely this time. “Me too. There are a lot of spirits here in Arlathan that I think could be set back on their course. The business with the Gods and the Veil, it doesn’t just affect us.”

“Very true.” He agreed. “You know, you would have done well in my Spirit Calling course.”

“I thought about taking Spirit Calling,” she said, “but I didn’t really think I needed to be taught how to do it. And it interfered with a course on Bone-Throwing.”

“I had no idea you dabbled in the divinatory!”

“I haven’t done a good divination ritual in a while. There’s a lot I’ve had to put on the back burner, recently,” she sighed. “Y’know Varric and Harding still think I majored in fortune telling.”

He paused, not wanting to put too much emphasis on her slip up with Master Tethras. The grieving mind sometimes did mix up the semantics, not used to adjusting to the absence.

“Divining is as widely a misunderstood subject as Necromancy,” he said with a sigh. “Yet it is so easily explained, it’s not the future we seek, but traces of messages in the unknown of the Fade. What is your preferred method of throwing?”

“I use my own baby teeth.” Rook grinned. “And any little bits and pieces I find. Arlathan has so many animal bones, I’ve had to restrict myself to one keepsake a trip.” Digging into the bag at her hip, she procured a mesh bag, dozens of little teeth and small bones inside as she shook them.

“Delightful!” Emmrich grinned. “You must show me some time, I admit, I was only ever very talented in scrying.”

“I could never sit still long enough for scrying,” she said, tucking her collection back in her bag.

“You do have a natural way with the Spirits, though, Rook. You ought to hone it. Spirit Calling does not always need to be taught to a mage, but there is something to be said about nurturing natural talent.” He said.

“Right.” She smiled, another tight lipped one that was more out of politeness than anything else. “But… they’re your specialty. That’s what we have you here for, isn’t it?”

He had done something wrong. Yet, he couldn’t figure out what. But he felt it as she pushed ahead, the ease of conversation abruptly ruined as she avoided looking back at him or engaging in any further discussion.

It was no wonder the others found his presence unsettling, when Rook herself seemed to be unable to decide whether she was comfortable with him being there or not. She flipped wildly from eagerly discussing home with him to seeming as if she couldn’t be as far away as possible. A brick in the wall would wiggle, slip out of place so he could peer through and then she would swiftly turn tail and run.

He had hoped her presence and influence would be a comfort to him, another Watcher so far from home when most never wandered too far. That had not been the case, thus far.

[silvermarig0lds]

messed around with some colour grading

[ddollfface]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐀 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚; 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝗕𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗬𝘂𝗷𝗶𝗿𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝗻𝗺𝗮'𝘀 𝗗𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗿, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘁.

Throughout your whole life, you've always felt a sort of presence loom over you. Whether it's protecting you or not, you have no clue, but it's always been there. Somewhat like a mole on the bottom of your foot or that itch in the back of your brain when something is wrong. It's always there, but there's nothing you can do about it. Well, without drastic measures.

You're not sure if it's human or not, but you're assuming so, though the thought is alarming. It's the only reasonable option. I mean, there's no such thing as demons or ghosts, right? So that just leaves the only option, that it's some type of person, some being, possibly a government. Of course, you'd prefer that it'd be some paranoid thought you've conjured in your unconscious, but you're sure that's not the case. How can that be the case when money appears at your, albeit unkept, doorstep? Or how you can sense the eyes on you while you training? And worst of all, how you can just feel the disappointed stare when you're on a date with some random classmate? The pure annoyance in the stare convinces you that this thing is real, that it isn't a figment of your imagination.

And it makes you wonder why. Why do you feel this presence? Well, you're sure that it could be linked to the fact that you're not... normal. There's always been something different about you; you've known this since the day your mama left you. That fearful look in her eyes when she says you smash a plate, just for holding it a little too tight. You thumb and pointer squeezing too much. It was as if she'd been taken back to a memory you weren't aware of, and you still aren't today.

Even at the age of seventeen, you still aren't aware of why your mama left in such haste, leaving everything she owned, only having the clothes on her back and her wallet. It puzzled you, though you were only twelve years old. You knew it was something you'd done; you caused your mama to leave. It was your fault, something you did.

And that's when it started, the presence, I mean. It's always been there, but you started noticing it far more frequently after your mama left. Before, it'd only appear once or twice a year, but now it was every month, maybe more.

For some reason, unknown to you, your mama leaving caused something to change. Something in you changed. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside you, both physically and mentally. You began to assess everything you'd do, trying to comprehend what you could've done to cause your mama to do such a thing, to leave her only daughter, her only child.

Was breaking a plate really that otherwordly to your mama? Sure, you'd only been twelve, but you were sure that girls your age had done the same?

Well, the more you thought of it, the more odd your strength was. You'd always been... stronger than most girls. That was undeniable. Both you and your mother knew of this. It was something in the back of your mind, something you had to be aware of.

You were different. You had to be more careful when you played. You couldn't go overboard, get too excited, and the next thing you knew a girl had a broken arm. The strength you possessed scared you; you didn't want to hurt people.

And with your strength came blood, so much blood, so much pain. Pain that you had caused. You really didn't mean it; you just wanted to play with all the other girls, but you had done it now. Your grip was too tight. You had pushed her too hard. It was your fault, and now she was bleeding. Oh, oh, oh, she was bleeding, a lot.

God, how you hate the smell of blood. The look of it, the feel of it, all of it; it made your head go fuzzy and your heart pound in your chest, but not in a bad way. Not in the way of when you fall off the monkey bars or when your mama catches you with your hand in the cookie jar. It's in the way of when the boy you like looks at you or when you've just finished playing a good game of ball. It's exhilarating, exciting even. You anticipate the feeling of blood between your fingers, rolling down your palm, and staining the sleeves of your uniform.

And that's what made you realize you were different. You didn't feel like other people, other girls, other kids. You were different, on a fundamental level. Even in the basics, how you felt was different. Was different even the right word? You're not too sure, but it scared you.

All these things you were feeling scared you. You didn't want to get pleasure from hurting others! It isn't right, you need help, you concluded. And that's when you realize that your mama ran away because of this, the feelings you get. Your own mama was scared of you. That's why she left you; you now understood.

You came to this understanding a few years ago, around three years, when you were fourteen. It was hard to accept, but you learned and evolved to comprehend your mama's actions. Instead of hating her for it, you sympathized with her. You understood. You would've done the same if you'd seen your darling daughter grow into this violent way of thought throughout the years.

That doesn't take away from the fact that you missed her; you missed your mama dearly. She was oh so kind to you. You miss her voice, her touch, and her cooking. Your mama was a good cook, far better than you've ever been. At least she left her cooking recipes, right?

Now, you are left alone.

Well, not completely alone. You have the ominous presence, you suppose. At least, you're not completely alone. If anything, the presence brings you back, sometimes, but not in a warm way. You can always sense when it's near. Your hair begins to stand, both on your head and on your neck.

Whenever it comes around, you can feel your muscles tense, your hair begins to float, and it's as if you're being reunited with something. With what? You don't know. There's a lot you don't know. You certainly don't know why you're connected to this presence in this way, but you do know how and what you're feeling. It makes you feel weak, like a bug.

You don't like feeling weak; you don't like how this presence makes you feel. You decided that over a year ago. That's when you began to train, wanting to become stronger, which was far easier than you thought.

You'd train day and night, trying to become stronger, better, faster. You wanted to rid yourself of this weak feeling, this feeling of submission you felt whenever you were around this presence. You wanted to harness this natural strength you were born with, this gift you were born with.

You wanted to find this presence and beat it into a bloody pulp for making you feel this way, for making your mama leave you. You didn't know how, but you knew they were connected. You knew that this presence was the cause of your strength, and you sought it out. You were going to find it and beat it, though it only watched from a distance, never getting too close.

This presence had been with you for years. You were sure that you'd be able to find it and beat it.

You'll make sure of it.

[mooseonahunt]

Based on this text post.

[beedlemania]

Davy Jones tboy swag complication

[kaitcreates]

Average game night at the London Institute.

[commonmexicanname]

Listen, I like the "time is being screwed with" theory (thank you @noneorother), but this gave me a thought...

What if it's not the Metatron messing with the timeline, but instead it's Crowley? We know he can control time. What if they lost to hell already and Crowley was so upset he rewound time to try again, but somehow forgot in the process and this was a whisper of a memory?

[kusukixcrystal]

MM Classpecting: Saeran Part 2

Zen Classpect

Yoosung Classpect

Jaehee Classpect

Jumin Classpect

707 Classpect

V Classpect

Saeran Classpect Part 1

This is part 2 of my Saeran classpecting post. In the first part is the Page of Heart interpretation, which I don't believe is his actual classpect. Now, I will cover what I think suits his character considering the events of the main story (Deep Story, 707 route and Secret Endings)

Classpect Interpretation 2:

Classpect - Muse of Rage (+): One who commands Rage, or commands through Rage, for others.

How this applies Saeran: Holy. Shit. Where do I even start? The world is out for Saeran: his father is trying to kill him and his mother abused him. Rika then indoctrinated him into a fucking cult. Saeran blames his own weak constitution for why his brother left him. In Mint Eye he accepts that the world is a cruel place, and dwells in self-deprecation, hatred and negativity.

In Another Story we see what would happen if Saeran breaks out of this cycle of self-deprecation, gaining strength in order to protect MC and his brother. In order to mature, in both Another Story and the Secret Endings Saeran must learn to trust Saeyoung and the RFA in order to escape Mint Eye and lead a better life. At his worst as Unknown he is pessimistic, isolates himself and suppresses any emotions that would deem him ‘weak’. Saeran in his After Story works with Jumin and Jaehee to stop his father, using his hacker skills. He has the ability to exert force on his environment when provided backing from people he cares about. We see the world tug him in every which way; V trying to show Saeran positive sides to the world with gardening and photography. Rika with Mint Eye. Another Story makes this more explicit, with the divide between Ray and Saeran. At that point he was still not Unknown yet, still malleable with Rika and V trying to shape him.

Unknown Commands over many people in Mint Eye and is in a high position. He orchestrates getting MC into the RFA and yadda yadda. 

We have to talk about why I think he is a Muse in the context of the main story. In Homestuck, Muse/Lord are considered to be Master Classes. They are classes given to only 2 characters in the entire comic: Calliope and Caliborn respectively. We see that with these classes these two play the role of influencing the other characters to act. They are given to people who influence the events of the entire story to a great degree. As one of Mystic Messenger's main antagonists, Saeran's role can not be understated. His actions literally lead to all the stories/routes happening. He is the one to lead MC to Rika's apartment. He is the one to hack the RFA chatroom and put everyone on high alert. He is the one to break into Rika's apartment and threatens to blow it up with the bomb. He is a Conductor, Commanding the RFA to act through using his Aspect... Speaking of his Aspect, let's discuss that.

This is what the Extended Hiveswap Zodiac has to say about the Rage Aspect:

“Those bound to the aspect of Rage are bringers of chaos. They possess great contempt for lies or false ideas, including the stability that false ideas can impart. To them, the true is far more important than the good; they would tear down a system just to destabilize it if, by their reckoning, it is built on faulty premises. Often the Rage-bound prefer anarchy to any of the alternate forms of civilization, which they believe to be riddled with lies and foolishness and obedient masses. They are bringers of confusion and doubt, and they can be frustratingly difficult to convince otherwise when they have attached themselves to an idea. If they sound dangerous, they are. The Rage-bound tend to be most volatile and unpredictable of the aspects. At their best they are original, revolutionary, and fearless. At their worst they are cruel, uncompromising, and vicious.”

How this applies to Saeran:

As previously stated, as a Muse of Rage Saeran Commands with Rage, utilizing his Aspect, his Rage, against the RFA to sew chaos and disorder within the narrative. Destroying the RFA's once peaceful lives.

He does this because he believes in Mint Eye's ideology, that outside institutions are feeding everyone lies and that they are a paradise in this world. He believed Rika, thinking that Saeyoung lied about saving him. These 'lies' and 'false ideas' from both his brother and society makes Saeran very angry, using it to destabilize the RFA. This brings doubt to the members of the RFA, where once everyone (excluding Yoosung) believed in V wholeheartedly, began to doubt him when they learn that there is a bomb in Rika's apartment and his constant absence.

When a Muse Commands with their Aspect, they are shaped by it too. His Aspect of Rage shapes him into Unknown, blinded by betrayal and Rage against Saeyoung, turning him into a violent bundle of anger and sorrow. He embodies the forces of his Aspect through violence and utilizing the bomb in Rika’s apartment and the gun he uses to shoot V. He also presumably tortures Yoosung with stuff as well (Yoosung Bad Ending 3). Unknown’s presence haunts the RFA in the game, the hacker threat a prominent story thread hanging over them. This influences the RFA to be careful and take precautions. The martyrdom part applies more to After Story Saeran, who sacrifices himself by directly confronting his father for his brother.

In Saeyoung's route, when he confronts Saeran in Rika's apartment and even at Mint Eye, he has difficulty getting his brother to believe that he thought he was living a good life. Saeran's belief can not be swayed easily, a prominent trait seen in the Rage-bound.

Saeran is unpredictable and volatile, seen in all Casual and Deep Stories in this game. He can strike a hacker attack at any time. In bad endings he appears almost randomly, catching the characters off guard.

In the beginning of his route, he uses his Rage to hurt and Command the MC, having control over her. It is only after the route progresses and MC gets through to him, somehow managing to persuade him away from his false ideals, that Saeran redirects his Rage in a different direction: towards Rika and his father.

Just to clarify, the reason I bring up Another Story so much in this analysis when I said I’d only focus on the main story in previous posts is because we just never had the opportunity to see much of Saeran in the og game. These traits of his character do apply to who he is as a person, its just that we only get to see it in Another Story more. Its the same thing as looking at other character routes to build a characterization of the other RFA members. His main role in the narrative still takes precedent and it all still fits well with Unknown/Saeran.

Now that we discussed his Class and Aspect separately, let's summarize. A Muse of Rage would be one who Commands Rage for Others. A Muse could be subjected to anger and violence themselves (his abuse and neglect), he later goes on to have Command over Rage and violence himself as Unknown. He inspires Rage within others (The RFA), and Commands them through Rage and have them pit against each other. In Saeyoung’s route Yoosung voices his grievances about V after the bomb was revealved. Saeyoung begins to doubt too, and is frustrated that V is hiding information from him, losing all trust and incensed after seeing Saeran. Even Jumin begins to confront V about his absence and behavior. By doing all of this, the narrative progresses forward, Saeyoung and MC finally deciding to go to Mint Eye, where all truths are revealed.

[cinammonelles]

Diomedes: Talk about your wife

Odysseus: *talks about his wife*

Diomedes: GOD CAN YOU STOP TALKING ABOUT YOUR WIFE FOR 5 FUCKING SECONDS???!?!?

[skillzissue]

TW//IMPLIED SIBLING DEATH

(Take care of yourselves okay!!! Forehead kithes <3)

…

Love you guys MUAH <333 (skips away as if I didn’t just post soul crushing angst)

[s0m4-r03]

i’ve come to realize that i am very cat-like:

it can take a long time for me to warm up to people (persistence helps)

i like sleeping/napping

i make cute noises when i’m happy

i like nuzzling into things and being cozy

i’m quite quiet, but i can be very loud

i’m sometimes a picky eater

i’m up at odd hours of the night

i look meaner than i actually am

it’s kinda funny because i’m historically a dog person (still am). i’m always super cautious around cats because i’m afraid of being scratched or bitten.

[unseemingowl]

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle

Fandom: The Batman

Rating: E

Summary:

Selina hadn’t intended to take the pouch of diamonds. That wasn’t why she had showed up. It had just sort of happened. Not that he was likely to believe that for a second.

Stealing from a crime scene is a sure fire way to get the Batman on your tail in hot pursuit.

[idrathersleep20]

☾  ☾  ☾  | ☾  ☾  | ☾  ☾  ☾

[fedexfirstclass]

Hey guys.