#which makes sense...but ive always been curious

[radicalkirbyfan]

hi timmy do you think you psychically link up with another universes version of you i have a puzzle and tbh the whimsical contraptions are proving to be too good. im worried i might not find all the clues. and i dont want to be dire but my fate does not look good if i dont. i might as well..... no. i shant say. but like if you could or answer some other questions that would be great thanks <3

LOng.time no see my friend howdy

psychic links ... that is a really good question. to be completely honest with you i havent really given.Other timelines a lot of thought after everything... thats mostly Kids thing, you know? id offer to ask for you but.shes been working something for a while now and the last thing i want to do is interrupt her when its so Close to happening

my own guess about psychic Links? i would like.to think that there is some sort of consistency. the universe is big and Open but there has be some Sort of consistent thing.like interests or names or motifs. otherwise how would we know that we're the same person? if we didn[t have those universal constants Everyone could be.....anyone i guess. so i would guess maybe we are linked in that way?

but outside of that i dont really have any other connection. my powers only go as far as this universe. tats really interesting that you can connect to ti though

goodluck with your puzzle! stay radicool dudette. you can do it B)

[justauthoring]

the winner takes it all.

in which, leander prewett is a prick and sebastian shows him not mess with his girl.

a/n: i truly am the queen of being late to the partyyyyyyyyyyyy (ive wanted to write for sebastian since hogwarts legacy came out but just finally got around to finally writing for him :) )

warnings: leander prewett bashing because i said so :), being drugged?

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!slytherin!reader

“I don’t need to have eyes to know you’re staring, Sebastian.”

Ominis’ rather bland comment pulls Sebastian from the spiraling thoughts that had been coursing through his mind, a blink of the eye as he shifts, turning to face his long time friend with a frown. 

“I’m not staring,” Sebastian argues, voice sharper than he meant it to be. Guilt runs through him when he realizes he’s being unfairly cross with Ominis, a boy that despite all has had to deal with Sebastian’s rather cross moods as of late and in the grand scheme of things, has done so with very little complaint.

“Sorry,” Sebastian sighs after a moment of silence passes, shoulders sinking. “It’s just…”

Ominis sets his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder across the table, squeezing reassuringly. “You don’t need to explain, Sebastian. I understand,” he offers softly, voice warm with what is meant to be comfort. Sebastian, despite the hurt in his heart, does feel himself ease, even if only a little, at Ominis’ words. The boy has always been exceptionally good at understanding others and knowing what to say to help someone—something Sebastian often found he lacked in retrospect. But then again, given who Ominis was, it made complete sense for him to understand and see things other’s couldn’t (even if he lacked the actual sight to do so).

“I just worry you’ll do something rash,” Ominis adds tentatively, as if afraid of Sebastian’s reaction. 

But Sebastian isn’t offended—honestly, he’s been rather scared of his own limits as of late. Especially when he was faced with that mocking grin and gaze that seemed to scream; I beat you.

It all started two days ago when, instead of meeting Sebastian in your shared common room as you normally did, you never showed up. The act was odd but Sebastian had brushed it off as a simple lack of communication, figuring you’d headed to the Great Hall ahead of him for whatever reason since Anne had assured him you weren’t in your room. Maybe you forgot to let him, he figures; the possibilities of why you’d left early were endless and it wasn’t like Sebastian wasn’t capable of walking the halls without you so he’d shrugged it off and joined Ominis and Anne instead.

It was really when he entered the Great Hall that everything went wrong.

Despite his brush off earlier, the second he was in the hall, his eyes had strained to search for you, missing the familiar and comfortable conversation he could find in you. He missed seeing your face first thing and making you laugh with one of his silly quips or light teasing, watching you stuff your face full of food because you couldn’t possibly just choose one thing and rather had to have it all and—

And all of that seemed to feel a lot worse when he finally found you and saw you sat at not only the wrong table but with Leander Prewett of all people. If that wasn’t bad enough, you were practically sitting on his lap, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist as you cuddled into his side, giggling as the boy practically fed you.

Sebastian’s feet had moved on their own, despite Anne’s worried call after him and Ominis trying to grab him (because despite not being able to see what Sebastian had, he’d known the boy long enough to know something was terribly wrong). Neither of them had mattered in that moment as Sebastian blindly made his way over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the curious pairs of eyes that watched him, marching straight up to you and Leander. The latter lazily glanced up at him, looking entirely too smug and pleased about himself as your eyes slowly flickered over to him, blinking, before smiling; “Sebastian!”

The way you’d called his name sounded all wrong. Although you looked pleased, a bright grin on your face, your eyes weren’t sparkling with the mischief he’d come to expect from you and rather you looked dazed.

Lovesick. The word made Sebastian want to throw up.

“Can we help you, Sallow?” Leander grinned, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

Sebastian’s lips part, but he hesitates, bewildered. His eyes flicker from Leander, to you, to the grip he has on you, to the way you’re holding him. “What… what the bloody hell is this?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Leander asks, voice sickly sweet. “Y/N and I were just enjoying breakfast together, weren’t we, love?” And to add to it all, Leander presses a kiss to your cheek and what shocks Sebastian most of all is that you don’t push him away or slap him or anything—you… you respond to the kiss.

Now, it wasn’t like you hated Leander. You knew of Sebastian’s… distaste towards the boy, and that Anne and Ominis in one way or another felt the same, though just not as much. You didn’t care for the boy either, as you’ve told Sebastian plenty, but you’d told him plenty of times not to be too mean or cruel or at least, try to get along with him.

Sebastian feels like he’s going crazy—was this why? Did you want him to at least try and get along with Leander because all along you’d had a secret crush on him or something? 

Had Sebastian misread everything?

The walks together every morning? The late nights spent together? The lingering touches? Longing looks? Flirts and teases and…—

“That’s right,” you grin at Leander, brushing at his bright, red hair and smiling. 

“But…” Sebastian swears he sounds more pathetic than he ever has… he certainly feels it. Watching you stare at Leander with that lovesick expression, smiling and touching him and… had Sebastian just never seen it? Had he been that blind by his own emotions? “You weren’t in the common room this morning,” is what he eventually manages, though it’s rather pointless.

It was obvious where you were.

“Oh,” you call out, blinking, as if you’d just remembered—oddly, that hurts the most. That you’d… forgotten about him. “Sorry Sebastian, I had such an urge to see Leander this morning and… well, I’m glad I did. Because I was finally able to tell him of my feelings,” you smile at him, cupping his cheek. “And i’ve never been so happy to hear he returned them.”

Sebastian’s lips part, his gaze shifting to Leander who’s watching him carefully.

The glare is clear. The meaning is plain.

I win.

Thankfully Anne is flanking his side before he can make more of an embarrassment of himself, grabbing Sebastian firmly by the arm and offering you a small, albeit bewildered smile and a glare at Leander before leading Sebastian away.

It had been two days since then and you hadn’t left Leander’s side once.

The only time you were alone was in the classes you didn’t share with him, and despite the fact that Sebastian had luckily shared one of those classes with you, his hopes at finding out some sort of answer had been quickly squashed when you spent the entire class in a daze. You hadn’t paid attention to the professor at all and spent your time staring off in a blissful, oblivious smile, ever so often whispering Leander’s name under your breath.

Sebastian was heartbroken. And angry. And hurt. And everything in between.

“I want to,” Sebastian admits to Ominis as he pulls himself from the memory. But, then, he sighs. “I won’t though. If… Y/N is happy, well, I guess there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Ominis frowns. “You’re not going to fight it even a little?”

Sebastian turns to him, confused; “you just said you didn’t want me doing that.”

“I just don’t want you to do anything rash,” Ominis argues, shaking his head. “It all still feels so strange to me. I mean, had Y/N given any sort of inclination about her feelings for Leander? I certainly don’t remember her saying anything and neither does Anne.”

Sebastian pauses, “well, no… I guess not. But maybe it was because we’d been clear how we felt about him.”

“Still,” Ominis expresses, leaning forward. “It’s so sudden. She went to bed fine and then woke up that morning and she’s barely spoken two words to us since. We were once her best friends, no?”

Sebastian had been so caught up in his own hurt he hadn’t even begun to think about how Ominis and Anne must be feeling. They were your best friends just as much as they were his after all and it wasn’t just Sebastian you’d steered clear of… you’d been avoiding all three of them like they were the plague. 

Sebastian sighs; “I think she’s just—”

“—She’s been poisoned!”

Both Ominis and Sebastian rear their heads back in surprise at both Anne’s words and her very sudden arrival, not to mention the loud bang that echoes as she slams the box in her hands onto the table with no care for those around. Some Slytherins nearby send her glares but she ignores them, her wide eyes strictly on both Sebastian and Ominis as she pants, out of breath.

“Anne,” Ominis calls, blinking. “What are you talking about? Who?”

“Y/N,” she all but breathes, turning to Sebastian who’s sat beside her. “Y/N’s been poisoned.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed; “what the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Look,” she calls, pushing the box in her hands forward. Sebastian eyes it as she takes the lid off, taking in the red and gold wrapping paper, before eyeing the wrapped piece of chocolate Anne pulls out of it. 

Sebastian stares; “it’s chocolate.”

Anne huffs, exasperated. “It’s laced,” she explains, pushing it to Sebastian’s face. “Smell it.”

Completely baffled but unable to resist with the way Anne is shoving the chocolate in his face, Sebastian does as he’s told. Leaning forward, he takes a small whiff, almost immediately frowning in confusion when he does; “it smells like… Y/N.”

For a moment, Anne pauses; “well, that fits,” she laughs, before pulling the chocolate closer to her. “It smells different to me. It smells like—” but she hastily cuts herself off, growing red in the cheeks as her eyes flicker over to Ominis.

A moment passes.

“Okay…” Ominis finally sighs, probably the most confused. “But what does this have to do with Y/N being—” He halts, eyes widening. “Amortentia!”

Anne grins; “exactly.”

“What?” Sebastian cries.

“I found these chocolates on Y/N’s bed,” Anne explains, “with a note attached, signed by Leander.”

The cogs in Sebastian’s mind slowly click together.

“He… he drugged her!” he calls out in disbelief, feeling a new wave of rage flood through him. His eyes snap back to his right, where he’d been staring before, where you are, coddled up next to Leander as he smiles sickly down at you, touching you, kissing you. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Anne is quick to grab onto him, “no.” And at the bewildered look he sends her, she frowns. “We need to get her to Blainey. She’s the only one who can heal Y/N and then the school will deal with him.”

Sebastian wants to argue but despite the anger radiating through him, he knows his sister is right.

-

Your head hurts as you blink away, the bright light above your head causing you to moan in dejection, confused.

Where were you?

Pressing a hand to your face, you try to block the light, using your other hand to push yourself up, slowly, since your whole body hurts in a dull ache everywhere. It takes you a moment to realize you’re in the hospital wing, recognizing the startling white of the room, before a set of hands are falling on you, pulling your attention to your left.

You gasp, panicked, until you see a familiar pair of warm brown eyes staring back at you in concern.

“Sebastian…” You mumble, voice coarse.

He shakes his head at you; “don’t push yourself.” He urges gently, his hand on your back as the other reaches behind you, helping prop you up with your pillows. You let him, still confused, as you glance around the room.

“How… How did I get here?” You asked, not remembering how you ended up here or why… actually, everything feels like a dull blur. The last thing you clearly remember is coming to your dorm after a long day of classes, surprised to see a box of chocolates on your bed and they’d been from… Leander!

Your eyes snap to Sebastian; “Sebastian! I think… I think I may have been poisoned by—”

“Leander Prewett,” Sebastian cuts in, face darkening as he nods at you. “Yes, well, Y/N…”

“You were given the love potion, my dear,” Blainey calls out, stepping into your view with a sheet of paper in her hands, eyes slowly flickering to meet your own with a worried frown. “Amortentia,” she nods, lips pursed. “Thanks to this young man, I was able to give you the remedy rather quickly but it looks like you were drugged for at least a couple days. Your body aches because of the antidote, so I’d like to keep you for a few hours just to make sure everything is alright but overall, there should be no lasting effects.”

Stunned, you let her words register.

Letting your hands fall numbly to your lap, you stare at them.

“Y/N?” Sebastian calls out quietly, pulling your eyes on him as he glances at you in concern. “Are you…?” his words trail, not really sure how to gauge the look on your face.

“I’m alright,” you whisper, “just… embarrassed.”

Sebastian shakes his head; “it’s not your fault—”

The door slamming open catches both of your attention, and your eyes widen when Leander comes storming into the room. The concerned look on his face is quickly replaced with rage when he sees Sebastian at your side, and Leander wastes no time; “just what are you doing—”

But Leander never gets to finish what he’s saying because in the next second Sebastian’s fist is colliding with his cheek, hard, and knocking him off his feet and straight into the ground. Nurse Blainey lets out a cry in surprise as you jump, body tensing as your eyes flicker from Leander to Sebastian, but you’re not afraid. At least not of Sebastian. Rather, his actions fill you with an odd warmth.

“I normally wouldn’t send you straight to detention for that, Mr. Sallow,” Professor Weasley’s voice rings out as she makes her way inside the room, and your eyes widen when you see Ominis and Anne trailing closely behind her. “But given the circumstances, I guess I’ll let such violence pass this once. Just don’t let it happen again, Mr. Sallow.”

Still breathing heavily, Sebastian takes a step back, his eyes easing when he turns to look at the professor. “You got it, Professor Weasley.”

“Now, Mr. Prewett,” Weasley’s voice calls out and the boy jumps as her steely eyes fall on him, scrambling to his feet as he looks around at everyone. “I believe you and I need to have a long chat.”

“B-But—” Leander sounds absolutely pathetic, his eyes falling on you as you simply glare at him, arms crossed over your chest, before falling on Sebastian who grins at him widely.

I win.

“Now, Mr. Prewett.”

Leander all but skulks out behind Weasley.

The second he’s gone, Anne rushes to your side, taking your hands in hers. “I was so worried when you started acting like a lovesick fool for Prewett of all people,” she cries, shaking her head as your cheeks burn, thinking of all the embarrassing things you must’ve been doing for the past few days. “I’m so glad none of it was real.”

Letting out a light laugh, you rub at the back of your neck; “I imagine I embarrassed myself quite a bit, huh?”

“A little,” Ominis says honestly, grimacing. “But it wasn’t your fault and the school is sure to know that when Leander is expelled for using a potion on you like that.”

His words bring comfort, even if a little.

“Y/N must be tired, guys,” Sebastian calls out after a moment. “Let’s leave her to rest.”

Ominis nods, offering you a small squeeze on the shoulder before pulling Anne with him who just grins at her brother; “I trust you’ll take good care of her for me though, won’t you, brother?”

Sebastian’s cheeks burn red and you turn away, but he doesn't argue.

Once Anne and Ominis have left, Sebastian returns to the seat he’d been in beside your bed, Blainey having left to give the both of you a bit of space. There’s a silence that swallows the both of you, and then, slowly, you let your hand fall on his.

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian blinks, turning to you. “Why are you…”

You bite your lip, looking at your lap, cheeks flushed. “Whatever I did… I know Ominis said it already, but really, none of it was me… you know that, right?”

Sebastian flips his hand, taking yours in his and squeezing. “You have no idea how reassuring that is to hear.” 

Your eyes snap to his, lips parting.

He shakes his head. “Even when Anne discovered you’d been drugged, there was still a part of me that… I–I guess, it’s just… seeing you act that way with him, kissing and holding and-and being with him like that… It made me terribly uncomfortable.”

You shift, leaning closer to him; “just uncomfortable?”

“Jealous.”

He glances up at you, and you meet his eyes, hand still in his as your free hand reaches forward, daring yourself to brush your fingers through his curls. Sebastian lets you, eyes watching you, before suddenly he’s leaning forward and then his lips are on yours, soft and warm albeit nervous, pulling away too soon as your lips part and you stare back at him.

“Incredibly jealous.”

You smile softly, “I didn’t mean any of it.” You whisper, emphasizing the words. “I didn't mean any of it with him because I wanted it to be with you, Sebastian.”

He grins, his face easing for the first time since you’d woken up and the sight of it is enough to fill you with warmth.

Then, Sebastian’s lip part and he’s grinning a little too widely; “that’s a relief because it was almost embarrassing for me to see you fawning over—”

You cut him off with a sharp slap to his shoulder, one he gasps in response to, holding the offended spot but the grin never fades from his lips as he smirks over at you.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”And of course, his eyes sparkle with glee; “nope.”

[hauntedsavefile]

my take on the strangetown premades!

base temp by @/mageofpanic

this took a lot longer than expected + some of these guys look a little more rough than desired but I'm pretty happy anyways!

keep in mind that these are *my* interpretations of the characters that i've curated over the many years ive been fixated on this game :,-)

some design notes below the cut since i put an ungodly amount of effort into the thought procress (its a lot of text, warning you now) ⬇️

- following the ts3 + ts2 genetics, my curious-smith family are darker skinned with less racially ambiguous features, fuller lips, larger noses, etc. (although not every person of that ethnicity is the same of course! these were purely observational looking at their family line). they are afro mestizo in my headcanon, with glarn being afro latino & kitty being mestizo.

- vidcund still has his mullet thing going on but it is a loc mullet!

- my curiouses are generally chubby. i don't have any exact reason for this. i know a lot of people headcanon pascal as being chubby but i think it could be cool if they all were. it also adds visual interest with different body types.

- erin & loki are scandinavian (like me!) so they're already very pale but i wanted to excaberbate that even further by making them albino. this isn't an accurate depiction of albinism as in real life, people with that condition often have health issues alongside that. (if i were to give that any thought, i like to think that loki initially became interested in inventing to benefit his own health issues but then his ambition took him down a darker, more mad sciencetist path). for erin as well, i just think it's cute considering her whole psychic thing, lookin a bit fairy-like + contrasts nicely with her pink colour scheme.

- nervous is darker skinned, exactly the same as his ma since grim doesn't have dna really. (some people have their own school of thought regarding why nerv being super pale, but this is my own). he has burn scars as electrocution causes scarring on skin + organ tissue, which he has gone through, a lot. he has various stitches, scars, and vitiligo marks across his face and body. the vitiligo on his face looks like a skull. this was originally going to be on the left side of his face, where theres no burns, but i figured it made symbolic sense + was a lot less cluttered if the burns covered up the skull vitiligo markings on his face.

- johnny, ripp, tank all have acne / acne scars - typical of teenagers.

- chloe + lola are of different skintones for storytelling purposes. in my little world, chloe and lola are very deeply close but also very affected by the abscence of their dad (him abandoning them), and being the only aliens they really knew of - basically being raised in isolation for most of their life. This is your typical cain & abel tale. Lola always felt inferior compared to Chloe, who had personality and charisma. She was always jealous of that, feeling like she’s always the awkward one + always will be in her sister’s shadow because of this. She tries her best to compensate for this through pouring herself into her work, in hopes that when she gets money, she’ll finally be accepted. This extends into their assimilation to humanness as well. Chloe is able to assimilate better whereas Lola feels like she cannot.

- Ripp is very different to canon.. I don't have a lot of an explanation for this but I just wanted to give him scene hair (also longer hair because I headcanon her as being a trans girl, but a very closeted one so she's in that awkward phase of growing out her hair but pretending like it's just shaggy + pulls it back into a low ponytail). The cleft lip is a bit of projection on my part, as I had a cleft palate when I was younger. Characters that I like will recieve some kind of disability that I have, for Nervous it's deafness + debilitating leg pain, for Ripp its this. I think it's also interesting narrative wise to compare how Buzz & the Beakers both handle disability. Buzz is a very 'tough it out' & 'you're just being sensitive' type whereas the Beakers uhh caused it, with their experimentation.

- I'm gonna be real, I hate Jill's design. It tells me nothing about her personality wise + I'm bummed out how human she looks. We need more weird little girl designs! Tried to find a middle ground.

- Buck has brown eyes like the corrupted version of Lyla. I chose to make him look like a carbon copy of Lyla (relatively speaking) for irony purposes. He has the least memories of her and yet looks exactly like her.

- Kristen is intended to look more like a typical masc lesbian because I am soo indulgent towards making the singles household just like a crazy lesbian situationship household (minus the curious sisters with eachother - of course).

[x-gabrielle-x]

Withered Cards | IV

Pairings: Jason Todd x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death.

Summary: Despite the many different problems you overcome with Jason Todd, you always eventually make it back to each other. Even after his death, how could you still love a man who changed so much? Even when you made a turn for the worst.

Series Masterlist

Your body still ached from the hits that Joker had blown at you only a week ago, the scab forming over your split lip leaving a metallic tang on your tongue. The bruises still had yet to heal, the purple blemishes littering your skin and serving as a fresh reminder of just how cruel and nasty the Joker really was. It had been a week. A week since your failed mission, and a week since you had last seen Robin.

You had found yourself mostly staying hidden away in your tiny room back in the warehouse, finding that it was much greater comfort than having to be around the tantalizing grin Joker always sent in your direction, like a lion baring its teeth to its prey. So of course, when you had heard a loud bang on your door with the Joker bidding you farewell, claiming he had 'unfinished business to attend', you were more than relieved to finally stretch your limbs and let your guard down; just a little.

Though even without the Joker there for the few days you had, your heart would leap into your throat whenever you thought to hear something similar to his maniacal laughter. You were constantly on edge even without him there, and Harley seemed to be mourning his absence just as much as you were enjoying it.

Sitting on a random rooftop with the glimmering city lights below did little to ease your running thoughts. The familiar chill of the freezing air pricked at your skin to which you folded your arms against your chest for a sense of warmth. Gotham had seemed to be a lot quieter tonight, a very rare occasion. Crime was low, and the usual distant sirens were quiet. You could even hear the occasional laughter and cheers from the bar just down the street.

You wished to bask longer in the silence, in your own company, but it was quickly gone when you heard the soft thuds of boots on the floor behind you.

You didn't need to look over to know that he was staring directly at you, observant and intrigued. In any other situation, you would have found yourself reaching for your knife and defending yourself against the charging enemy, fists flying and weapons drawn for blood, but this was different. Very different. There was no harshness to his steps, no attacks thrown at you, only silence.

The silence dragged uncomfortably long, and you kicked your legs back and forth over the edge of the building as you let out a long breath.

"I didn't think the Robin would be paying me a visit tonight," you kept your gaze trained below. "If I had known, I might have put on my better shoes!"

The pounding in your chest grew with each word you spoke, but if he had come to fight you, he would have done it by now.

He ignored your comment and instead came up beside you. It was then you finally turned your gaze up at him, noticing his yellow, red and green costume. The dominoe mask shadowed his face, though you could see little due to the dimmed lights of the city. He was staring right back at you, a little too much for your personal comfort.

He slumped onto the edge of the rooftop with a huff, maintaining the safe distance between you both. You had to resist from smiling a little to yourself at the silliness of it all. Robin, your enemy, the one who had made you fail your mission and make the Joker’s anger flare was currently sat five feet away as if nothing had happened.

He was playing a dangerous game, yet you were curious to see the reason of his arrival. If he wasn't here to start something, why was he here at all?

The tension was thick with something you couldn't place, but the feeling was oddly unsettling. Not because you were fearful, but because you were oddly excited for this coincidental meeting.

"Tough week?" he questioned in a tease, pointing to your split lip and the yellowish bruise poking out from under your mask. You merely scoffed at the boy before subconsciously licking the cut on your bottom lip.

"Maybe. It would have been a hell of a lot better if you had left me that vial, though," you looked at him, catching the smile that had appeared on his face triumphantly before he quickly disguised it with a bored look.

"What did the Batsy say when you handed it in," you continued. "It better have been good, considering the Joker wasn't too pleased when I returned without the one thing he had asked of me." You gestured to your eye again, his gaze lingering there for a few moments too long.

He tensed at the mention of Batman, lips twitching into a frown.

"Nothing you need to know," he mumbled out, irritation laced in his voice. You quirked a brow.

"I think I do," you laughed, though it was obviously fake. "Considering you're the reason I got my ass beat."

He ignored you, instead shifting himself so that his leg was now propped up on the edge of the roof. He tilted his head in question.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Another Joker deed or dwelling in your failure," he taunted.

"Having a breather," you were quick to reply in defense, and you noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise. He let out a soft laugh, something that surprised you considering you didn't hear laughter too often where you were, or perhaps too much from the Joker.

"Something that we have in common," he mused, and for the first time you felt a strange sense of welcoming with Robin. With anybody, for that matter.

The both of you remained at a safe distance, but his presence alone was one that confused you. Tonight, even with him a mere five feet away, you weren't worried about having to fight him, worried about hiding away, or worried about who you were raised with. It was nearly as if in this moment, you had somebody who didn't pose you as a threat. Or at least, not much of a threat.

Robin's movements were relaxed and composed, abandoned of any tension he may have held before regarding your presence.

“I’m guessing you don’t do this often,” Robin concluded. “If not at all.”

You frowned at him, slightly offended by his comment. “How would you know?”

The corner of his lip tipped into a smile, and he shrugged, flexing his shoulders in a way that caused for his suit to stretch.

“I’m here nearly every night, and I can positively say, I haven’t seen you out here once.”

“And I bet you wish you could see me, little birdy,” you fake pouted, watching him closely.

He breathed out a laugh, his eyes squinting under the dominoe mask that concealed his identity.

"Believe me, if it didn't end in you nearly breaking my nose last time, I might have considered it."

You just stared at him, your mind trying to figure him out. In all honesty, you don't remember the last proper conversation that you had with somebody. much less around your age.

"How old are you?" the question had slipped out before you could stop it.

Robin glanced back at you; a brow raised. "Not much older than you, I'd guess," he looked you up and down. "How old are you?"

"Thats not an answer," you deadpanned, ignoring him. "For all you know, I could be a sixty-five-year-old woman with insane plastic surgery."

"But you're not," he clarified. "No old woman would be able to jump off rooftops and work for criminals like him."

You cringed at the mention of the Joker.

Robin let out a low hum, and the city lights from below flickered across the right side of his face in what seemed to be like a dance.

You opened your mouth. "You're not-"

"Stop." He cut you off.

You paused. "Excuse me?"

He held up a hand, his gaze going past you. It was only then you heard the quiet grunts and rummaging from a nearby alley. You were already on your feet and moving toward the sound, steps cautious. Robin was right on your heel, and by the time you were both on the ground hidden by the shadows in the alley, you could see a hunched figure leaning against the brick wall, digging through what seemed to be a purse.

You turned to Robin, a mocking smile gracing your lips. You gestured an arm out.

"Well? After you, Wonder Boy," you said.

He frowned. "Is that some way you're going to get me distracted and then knock me out when my backs turned?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, do I look like a hero who fights purse thieves?"

He looked you up and down. "Honestly, no."

"You didn't have to answer, bird brain. Just go!"

The man who had been distracted for long enough suddenly snapped his head toward you both, snarling.

"What the hell?"

The man stood abruptly, stepping closer, though Robin was quick to move from the outstretched hand of the man. With a swift kick, the man was doubling over with a grunt and spilling the contents of the purse onto the floor.

The man growled in annoyance, lunging for Robin again, but he was quick to duck down away from the mans clenched fist before it could make contact. You, however, watched on with amusement.

"You could have been a bit more original rather than a purse thief," Robin called out to the man.

The grunts exchanged between the two continued, and you cringed at the few hits Robin had received. You had to admit, he put up a strong fight.

"Little rat!" The man yelled, holding his head where a punch managed to land before he stumbled out of the alley, disregarding the purse he previously held.

Robin huffed, brushing a dark stray of hair away from his face. He looked over, meeting your gaze as you clapped mockingly, stepping out from the shadows and closer to him.

He stooped down, picking up what looked to be an ID.

"Do you know a Lora Johnston?" He said, flipping the card in his hand.

"Can't you search that up on a special little gadget or something?"

He mumbled out something that you failed to hear.

There was a pause.

"I think you could improve on your movement," you said, and his eyes snapped to yours. Something changed in his features that you couldn't place.

"Teach me, then."

Your mouth ran dry. "What?"

"If you teach me, then ill teach you some stuff." He was quick to add, but you shook your head quickly.

"I don't need your help."

You went to turn, but you let out a yelp when you were suddenly tugged back and landed onto the hard floor.

"You let your guard down too easily," Robin teased. You only glared up at him with annoyance.

You stood back up to your feet and wacked him on the shoulder, pushing past him and walking toward the alley entrance to leave, but he quickly called out to you.

You ignored him, but he called out again.

"What do I call you?"

You stopped and turned to him, eyes wide.

There was a long pause. "Nothing," you said. "I can't give you a name."

"Well," he thought, a suggestive smile gracing his lips that you knew you'd see again. "I guess I'll just have to decide myself."

You turned again, waving a hand this time. "Until next time, birdy!"

He let out a chuckle. "Until next time, Princess!"

You remain silent the rest of the walk, your interaction with Robin nothing like how you would have imagined it. He confused you more than you'd like to admit, but oddly enough, tonight was a change, and you liked it.

You couldn't remember the last time you had spoken to somebody so casually, the sense of normality something you craved more of. Though the two of you barely knew each other, much less trust, you had hoped it wouldn't be your last interaction.

@annabellelee @stormz369

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[scribbledghost]

Writing Goddess!! How have you been?

I’ve been re-reading your original inhuman Vessel fic… would you ever do a Vessel POV version…? When reader first arrives, when he realises his feelings… what the other vessels say when they also realise how vessel feels? We love men than yearn 🥹

Ohhh you've captured my brain!! Companion piece to this fic.

Word count: 1,638

Notes: fem!reader, inhuman!Vessel, mass amounts of yearning

What He Needs

Vessel senses you before he sees you.

Visitors to the manor are not unheard of, though they are rare. Typically they would be wanderers, in need of food and shelter for the night before either Vessel or one of his housemates would guide them back to civilization. Sometimes they would be in need of something more intangible - a listening ear, perhaps, or a safe place to exist for a day or two. But none of them every stayed long.

Until you, that is.

As soon as he senses your presence on the manor grounds, he feels a pull. Like Sleep itself is telling him to go forth and draw you in.

Naturally, you are apprehensive at the sight of him, slightly panicked at the idea of being lost in the forest you'd been in. Vessel does his best to impart a sense of calm upon you, noting almost immediately how easy it seems to be to commune with you in such a manner. Once you are less wary, he invites you back to the manor.

The others are tense at first, as they usually are with visitors. It is Vessel himself who welcomes you in, offering you a quiet place to collect your thoughts for a while. An hour stretches into a day, then a week. III and IV are the most apprehensive of your presence initially, the younger vessels being inherently distrustful of newcomers. II tends to keep to himself, trusting Vessel to vet you properly.

After some terse back-and-forth, you are able to convince the vessels (or, more accurately, Vessel is able to convince the others) that you mean no harm to them. You are simply... lost. Not in a literal sense; you can leave the forest where their manor resides between worlds at any time. No, you are lost in the sense that you are missing something. Vessel readily offers the manor as a home for you while you work to discover what that something was.

It takes you longer than expected to realize they aren't human, though Vessel wonders if it is simply you being polite. Surely you must have seen the eyeslits on his mask move, or noticed how they do not eat or drink.

Truthfully, Vessel could have told you sooner. But that would have risked you fleeing the house in fear, and he simply could not have live with himself if that outcome had occurred.

As it happens, Vessel had grown attached to you rather quickly. As the mental connection begins to blossom between you and the vessels, he finds himself peeking into your thoughts enough to make him feel guilty about the action. Enough for him to know when you are sitting just out of sight during the group's musical rituals.

He always makes sure to sing the melodies he'd written in your image when he knows you are listening.

He thanks Sleep that the connection - for now - appears to still be one-way. You haven't been at the manor quite long enough yet to be able to venture into his own mind. If you could, you would no doubt know which place in his heart his words come from.

However, it takes II bringing it to his attention for Vessel to admit he's developed feelings for you.

"You love her."

It isn't a question - it rarely is with II. It is merely an observation.

"And what makes you say that?" Vessel asks, turning away from the window he stood at.

"Well, you're watching her like a hawk, for one," II states, clearly referencing how you are visible in the garden below from Vessel's perch.

"I am merely curious. We have not had a long-term guest since IV first arrived."

"And yet you have not tried to convert her."

This is true; Vessel never did try to bring you into the fold of Sleep's worshipers. In truth, it is because he felt you deserved more - more than the sprawling existence of being trapped in this forest for a millennia.

"Look, Vess," II says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, "there's clearly something about her that has... intrigued you. I can't blame you, I think the rest of us feel the same way. But something tells me what draws you to her is deeper than simple curiosity."

With that, II takes his leave, leaving Vessel to stand alone with his thoughts.

It is then that he realizes that II is right. Something deeper has drawn him to you, and he is almost embarrassed that he had not realized it sooner.

You are both lost.

Both looking for the same thing.

Both desperately craving that connection with the other, wanting nothing more than to show each other the worst parts of yourselves and have the other not avert their gaze.

Vessel realizes that what has drawn him to you is not simple curiosity, nor is it the bond of a standard kindred spirit.

He loves you.

And that terrifies him.

The others must have felt the shift in their mental connection when he realized it. It is the only explanation as to why all three of them appear in his room moments later. Or perhaps II had gone to fetch III and IV when he'd left earlier. Vessel has no desire to ask.

"You should tell her," II suggests softly, placing a gentle hand on Vessel's upper arm.

"I can't."

"Why not?" IV asks. "I've seen the way she looks at you, Vessel. Clearly she's into you, too."

"Because if she realizes what she's seeking, she may look for it elsewhere."

There, at the heart of the issue, is fear. A deep fear that you will abandon him for something - someone - better.

"Can't hide it from her forever, mate," III says.

"...I can hide it for now."

And hide it he does. Weeks go by in the same manner, a carefully-practiced routine that changes little for everyone involved.

Vessel does his best to keep you at arms' length, but he finds himself helpless to resist your pull completely. This results in plenty of mixed signals, of which he has no doubt are infuriating to you to say the least. Lingering touches and gentle words seem to contrast with the secrets and his refusal to remove the mask like the others have.

The longer you stay in the manor, the more developed your own mental connection with all of the vessels becomes, in particular your ability to converse with them and peer into their own minds. II, III, and IV think little of it, but Vessel is more keen to help you expand and train your new skill. In his eyes, he sees it as perhaps a way to properly connect with you without fully admitting his feelings.

But telepathic conversations can only go so far.

He begins to dream of you - more frequently than he already had been, anyway. Whether they are still products of his own subconscious or gifts from Sleep, he is unsure, but he finds himself yearning for them each time he awakes the next day.

It is almost as if everything in them is indistinguishable from the waking world; every word, every touch, every sound is as clear as it would have been in reality. And yet... it is not enough.

Vessel goes to a private sanctuary early one morning, hoping to talk to Sleep itself out of desperation. Each morning he awakens with the feeling of your lips against his, only to realize it is not real, the grief compounds. On this day, it is particularly unbearable.

As he kneels to the ground and begged Sleep for guidance, he allows himself to be overtaken by the deity. All six of his eyes open, a brilliant blue glow emanating from them as Sleep's words filter through his mind. Typically communing directly with Sleep in such a way drains Vessel, but the strain on his body and mind is worth it if he can find relief.

"You have many choices, my vessel."

"...It does not feel as though I do."

"You may keep your intentions hidden, and continue to suffer in hopes your feelings fade with time," Sleep conveys. "Or, you may vacate her from the premises, and allow yourself to forget about her-"

"No!" Vessel interjects quickly in a panic before composing himself. "I... I apologize... I just-"

"You do not desire that outcome," Sleep said, "I understand. You may also discuss your true affections with her. You may tell her that you understand what she is searching for, for it is what you seek as well."

"But what if she leaves?" Vessel asks, voice small and unsure under the weight of that possibility.

"Then she leaves," Sleep says. "If she does not share your fondness, then she is not meant to be yours."

"I cannot bear the thought."

"You must, if you are to achieve the possibility of her returning your love."

Vessel leaves the conversation slightly downtrodden, knowing Sleep is right, but also knowing the weight of what he is about to do.

He goes to the others, telling them of his decision. He wants them to be prepared for the fallout should you flee from the house - there are still cracks along the walls in some of the manor's many rooms from the last time heartbreak had found him.

After some reassurances and encouragement, Vessel steels himself and goes on the hunt for you. He ends up finding you in the library, but he can tell that you're not in the best of moods.

Rather than immediately sit and begin to tell you what he knows, he instead tries a different approach, praying with all of his power that you share his feelings. He wanders closer to you, and when he sees that you are still deep in thought, he speaks.

"You're tense."

[bbyg4rl]

I wanted to say thank you for answering my question so quickly and kindly but I was also curious if you'd be willing to write anything about JJ with a reader that has an eating disorder. I know ed's are a very sensitive topic to a lot of people so if you aren't comfortable with it I 100% understand. I used to have an ed that I still often struggle with, something like anorexia but never fully anorexic if that makes sense but that's why I was asking. So if you are comfortable with it I'd love a concept/thought thing about it that's completely fine too. ALSO. JJ is very kiss me thru the phone by soulja boy and Sammie codded

-🦇

You sat on the counter, knees pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves covering your hands. The granola bar sat unopened beside you.

JJ didn’t say anything at first. Just walked over, peeled it open, and broke off a piece like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Open,” he said quietly, like he was asking, not telling.

You hesitated, but he waited—patient, soft-eyed. So you did.

He slipped the piece past your lips like he’d done it a thousand times, like he wanted to. And when you chewed, he gave you the faintest smile, eyes never leaving yours.

“See?” he murmured. “Still human. Still loved. Still here.”

Another bite. And another.

He didn’t rush you. Didn’t count the pieces or comment on how little you’d eaten that day. He just fed you, slowly, gently, like it wasn’t about food at all—but about care.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he whispered, brushing a crumb from your lip.

And when you leaned into his chest afterward, stomach full—not of food, but of safety—you believed him. He didn’t offer you a lecture or a plate of food you couldn’t look at. Just opened his arms and let you fold into him.

Just a little. Just enough.

read more concepts here !

as someone whos always had struggles with anorexia, this one is so personal to me, ive had a draft dealing w this since i started this page in jan and i havent been able to finish it yet, but heres a lil blurb, which isnt fiction rly bc i was lucky enough to have someone in my life who helped me walk thru that hell path, my dms and my asks are always open for you love ❤️���🩹 this isnt something you have to deal with alone and ill always listen no matter how irrational or stupid or constricting it may feel. you're always loved. remember that ❤️‍🩹

also yes jj is very kiss me thru the phone coded

[dreamersparacosm]

ahhh i read the entirety of under the checkered flag last night and got like 4 hours of sleep 💀 so so good! i’m curious can we get jungkook’s pov of what went on in his head when oc rejected the first kiss that led him to sleeping w that model bc i wanna knowww!

ok so i have had so many thoughts on this. not even kidding ive been shook by this request bc its so REAL. like yeah i also want to explain what this man was thinking… bc perhaps it may not make sense why he is the way he is. at the end of the day… he’s toxic internally and that is ALL he’s known before you, i mean, the guy has fucked so many girls before you. this is how i see it.™️ if you disagree… well, good luck charlie (I don’t write for the weak.) enjoy.

warnings ; talk of previous sexual activity!

prompt ; in which she isn’t you.

part of the under the checkered flag universe

He knows.

God, he’s known for as long as he’s been in your presence. It’s not your fault, nothing you can contain. He’s just known that you were never his to claim.

When he invited you to the afterparty, a tiny part of him, some subconscious section of his mind, hoped you would deny the invitation, so that he wouldn’t have to keep dreaming of you, dreaming of what your lips would feel like against his, dreaming of your touch against his warm skin.

He knows many things, but what he knows for certain is that he should not have brought you onto the balcony.

“You were really something out there today,” You speak softly, and his brain goes to mush, palms sweaty and hesitant with some sort of desire he can’t contain. Any form of a compliment from you causes his breath to hitch.

All he can respond with, after a gulp of saliva, “Yeah?”

You don’t dare look at him. He just stands there, inhaling your scent from a mere few inches away, trying to collect a part of you he can’t touch. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

And the thing about Jungkook is he’s received compliments in his lifetime. Too many to count. From fans, from reporters, from faceless voices who say his name like it belongs to them. They’ve called him beautiful, breathtaking, a living work of art. They’ve told him his voice drips with a smooth tone, like honey and sin, that his body was carved by gods who took their time. He’s learned to accept it, to let the words wash over him, to detach from them entirely.

But when it’s you? When it’s your voice, soft and careless, dropping a compliment like it means nothing?

It kills him. He feels devastatingly and utterly ill.

Because you’re his friend. That’s what you’ve always been. And that word friend feels dirty in his mouth now, like a lie, like a word someone else assigned to the two of you before he ever had a say in it. He barely even knows if it means anything anymore. Not when you look at him like that. Not when your voice wraps around a simple, thoughtless phrase like it’s just syllables in a nonsensical sentence.

There’s more words exchanged, things he doesn’t fully process because he’s so stuck on how beautiful your curves look in the dress Jisoo picked out for you, the dress he sent her money for and told her not to tell you.

He doesn’t really process anything until you say, “ Sometimes I think I like being alone so much because it’s the only time I don’t have to be anything for anyone else.”

It’s so inherently him, the things that you say sometimes. You’re a mirror image of him, some version of himself looking back, only better. Sharper where he is dull, softer where he is rough, a perfect contradiction that somehow fits him more than he fits himself. You say things he’s thought a thousand times but never dared to speak aloud. You see the world like he does, or maybe you see it clearer, untainted by the noise, the expectation, the weight of what people want him to be.

That’s how he knows he’s royally fucked.

He can’t be just friends with you, not when your voice slips into his thoughts so effortlessly, lodging itself in the quiet spaces between his ribs. Or, not when your words make his skin feel too tight, his body too aware, his heart too loud in his own chest.

Not when it feels like you’re crawling inside his head and making a home there.

His body moves before his brain does. He can barely breathe, every hum of oxygen being ripped from his lungs when he shifts to look at you, stare into your eyes that longingly look into his own, like you’re analyzing every part of his soul.

There’s a glimmer of hope behind his eyes, he knows it.

He feels it like a heartbeat in his throat, pulsing, thrumming, betraying him. He’s staring at your lips, watching, waiting, praying for a sign that you’ll kiss him back if he lets himself cross that final, irreversible line. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him to do it.

He needs to close the space, to drown in you, to let his hands map the curve of your jaw and finally give in to the thing that’s been eating him alive from the inside out.

He reaches out, brushing the lightest touch against your wrist. It’s barely anything. Yet, there’s a slight hesitation from your body language.

You take a step back. Small, barely noticeable. It’s enough.

It’s enough to tell him he’s made a mistake, that he can’t cross this barrier, can’t shatter the fragile thing you both pretended was friendship, can’t be so foolish as to believe that this could survive the weight of his want.

You swallow, exhaling shakily. “We’re just friends.”

Three words, that when put together, shatter him completely.

God, he’s known this whole time.

Then, slowly, because it’s all he can muster, he smiles knowingly. “I know.”

He offers to go back inside, and you smile sweetly. There’s an awkward silence that takes its place between you two, and he immediately distances himself from you. From a few feet away, he watches you shuffle over to Jisoo, whisper something in her ear, and she walks with you towards what he assumes is the restroom.

The grave mistake he has made is so irreversible he wants to kick himself in the face.

He marches right up to the bar, asking for a whiskey on the rocks, something he hasn’t dared drink since he met you.

Realistically, you ruined it for him. Ruined everything. Whiskey used to be his escape, his sharp-edged comfort, the thing that burned just enough to remind him he was still alive. But then you happened, and suddenly, nothing tasted quite the same.

Tonight, however, he drinks. He drinks like he used to. He lets the dark liquor scrape down his throat, letting it seep into the cracks of his mind, letting it pull him back into old habits.

It’s easier to fall back into the emptiness, to slip into the hollow space where his ego and his loneliness curl up together like old friends. To let himself believe, just for a night, that the answer to whatever this ache inside him is doesn’t have your name on it.

He doesn’t want to be the man who can’t sleep without the ghost of your touch. Doesn’t want to be the man who looks for you in every crowded room, even when he knows you’re not there.

So, he downs another glass. Then… another.

At some point in the night, he stops caring about where you are. Stops caring if you got home safe, if you’re tucked into bed, if you’re even thinking about him at all.

He starts wanting something simple.

A mindless thing. He craves something that doesn’t look like you, doesn’t talk like you, doesn’t make him feel like his skin is too tight over his bones, like his heart is clawing its way out of his chest every time he breathes.

So when a model—one he’s had before, months ago, a lifetime ago—slides up next to him, trailing a perfectly manicured hand down his arm, he doesn’t even blink. He does not react when she leans in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, asking in that sultry, practiced voice, “Your place or mine?”

He should feel something. Excitement, relief, even just the slightest flicker of interest.

But he feels nothing, just a dull, gnawing ache in his chest, the kind that no amount of whiskey or soft skin or easy pleasure can fix.

Still, he nods… takes her hand. Prays to every god he doesn’t believe in that it works this time (Except nothing works. Nothing ever fucking works. Because no matter who he touches, no matter whose lips ghost over his skin; they are never you. And that is something he will never be able to drink away.)

So, the next time you see him, when you inevitably find out, when you stomp to his house, all rage and jealousy, everything he knows fades to dust.

Now, surely, undoubtedly, you are his to claim.

｡･:*:･��★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[kabr0ztrousers]

Hi there!

I’ve been reading your work and I had a potential smut story idea but you can totally say no!!

I was thinking either a Fem!Human x Male!Naga smut story buuuut I was wondering if you could do it so that somehow the reader (fem human) has been scientifically altered to try and make it easier for the human race to survive where Nagas live? (Like on a different planet or extreme weather conditions)

So like the reader has fangs, some scales on her body, claws, snake eyes etc but she’s still ‘human’ if that makes sense? And she’s supposed to kind of throw herself at the Naga for some kind of research/scientific thing that “will help humanity” (some kind of breeding research) but she’s totally not on board at ALL but then the Male Naga just watches her and offers her food/water (maybe she’s struggling to adapt to the changes the scientists made?) and then he helps her learn to survive etc but then him helping her accidentally triggers her heat (maybe a side effect of being an experiment) and then one thing leads to another…..

OR

Fem!Naga reader x Male!Naga but the reader was raised in some kind of laboratory (she’s like some kind of super rare Naga breed/colouring or she has a super rare venom/defence mechanism) and is no longer connected to her Naga instincts despite being a Naga and then one day a ‘wild’ Male Naga sees her in her enclosure and becomes interested/obsessed with her and tries to break her free but she’s just so used to being in the lab (but she has an ‘outside’ area and that’s how the male sees her) that she doesn’t do anything and then the male just gets super curious about her and kind of keeps sneaking in and out of her enclosure to spend time with her and teach her what her instincts mean and how to reconnect to them, which eventually triggers her heat…..

I would absolutely love it if you could write one or both of these! But there’s no stress especially if you don’t like them or it makes you uncomfortable!!

Thank you so much for reading this and have a blessed day 💕💕

Thanks for your suggestions! I'm gonna aim at the first one to start off with, and might return to do the second at a later date, we'll see how things shake out

Kabr0z Writes episode 41: Dances with Snakes

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: slightly colonialist pov; breeding; interspecies; miscommunication; human hybrid pov

A/N: Per usual, just a reminder that my ask and DMs are open for suggestions and requests, limits are in my pinned comment but anything that doesn't cross those lines is OK, and likely to get made

#######################################

The sun glittered off your scales as you checked the windcatcher. You have a high affinity for bio-modification, so when high command needed to dispatch a researcher to an arid sandbox of a planet like Gliese IV you were a no-brainer. 20 years in hibernation was plenty of time for the plasmid vectors to do their work, and when you woke you were like this. The levels were nominal, as always, and once you'd shaken out the filters you had plenty of time to look over the landscape around you. Your slit-pupils were perfect in the unforgiving daylight, shiny scaled skin that would never burn, even venomous fangs and a cobra frill you could extend from your shoulders up to your hairless head if you so choose. The plasmids worked miracles, though the biochemists back home just called it science.

A shadow danced in the basin below your weather station. A tribe of the indigenous life. You were meant to be analysing them while on the planet, but it hardly seemed worth your time. They were hunters, seemingly obligate carnivores, barely in their stone age. Every so often they'd come close to your machinery and you'd have to drive them off with your particle caster, it didn't have enough kick to permanently wound anything that big, but it sure made a loud noise and a lot of sparks. Eventually though, your relief would arrive, and there'd be hell to pay if you didn't get the data you were asked for.

You sighed, your modified vocal cords lending a hissing tremolo to the act. It wouldn't be so bad if you were just meant to sneak in and do some anthropology. Command wanted you to infiltrate their society, learn what makes them tick, see if they'd be candidates to join your burgeoning galactic community.

The windcatcher buzzed behind you as sand whipped up the slope, generating power and a trickle of precious drinking water.

You opened a compartment on the device and withdrew a canteen of fresh, tepid water. More valuable on this world than the gold veining the rocks, worn liberally by the natives below.

There wasn't any wood here either, there were some plants here and there, clinging to bedrock and filtering water from the air much like your windcatchers. The lack of readily flammable material or arable ground doomed the locals to brutal, competitive, and short lives.

You started down to them. They had definitely seen you, perception was a vital survival skill out here, and made no attempt to avoid you as you crossed the couple of hundred meters to where they were resting. Their camp was simple enough, the planet had almost no precipitation, so shelter meant windbreaks. Long strips of hide joined with sinew thread and glue derived from animal carcasses, held up with bone. Two of them stood either side of the camp entrance.

They didn't look too dissimilar to you. They were also large and scaled, but while you were golden, they were a sandy brown. They too had no body hair and eyes like a snakes. The biggest difference was below the waist, instead of legs they had long coiling tails, allowing them to move quickly and efficiently over the shifting sands, while your feet were liable to sink and slide in places. They didn't wear clothes, early humans only started wearing furs to shield themselves from the cold and the rain, neither of those things existed here, only wind and the sand it carried.

You held out your offering to them. The aluminium canteen of fresh water. The guards took it and opened the lid, sniffing at the contents, dipping a clawed finger and tasting a drop.

Their eyes widened. They stood aside and let you in, hissing in deference to you and the wealth you brought for them.

The leader's hut, such as it was, stood in the centre of the compound. They always built the same shape, more or less, and your drone flights had taught you everything you needed to know about how to get around.

Head held aloft, not looking at any of the other denizens of the village, you strode up the central thoroughfare. Your coat billowing in the funnelled breeze, the particle caster on your right hip, the flask on your left. You wished you had a Stetson to complete the look.

You hissed loudly outside the leader's hut, and the gate in the ring of hides opened for you. You strode in, not regarding the large snake men either side of the door, you'd crafted a semi-deific persona for yourself with your tech and your strange look, you were going to keep it as long as you could.

The leader was scarred and pale, one of his eyes damaged and milky-white. You stepped forward and opened the flask, giving it to him. He sipped from the opening. His eyes widened too, scarcely believing what he was holding before stuffing the stopper back in the flask and swiftly burying it in the sand below him. He'd just gone from leader of a clan to the wealthiest man on the planet. He hissed at you, your grasp of their language wasn't perfect, but you could understand the gist. He wanted to know what you wanted in return.

You answered, you were pretty sure you said something along the lines of travel, or join, maybe? He became agitated by this, hissing loudly at his guards. Your hand shot to your particle caster as you spun into a shooting stance. The guards were gone.

You put the caster away. The leader was trying not to look at you. The gate opened again behind you, a slender female took your hand and dragged you out of the tent to another a little ways away. You were showered with gold jewellery, mostly scraps of gold ore tied with sinew, worn around the neck or on the wrists, they even tied them around your ankles, despite probably never having been this close to a person with legs before. Once every extremity was adorned with glittering stones and sinew, a headdress was planted on your head and you were ushered out of the tent.

Now you were near the gate to the compound, the path to the leader's hut was clear, flanked by hissing serpents. A gentle push urged you on, and you walked. The jewels rattled against one another as you walked, snake people daubing you with thick paste as you passed them. You held your pace, stately, unhurried. It was definitely a ritual of some sort, and didn't feel like one that should be rushed.

Step by step, you strode onwards, every time you passed someone they smeared another streak of the dark reddish paste, smelling like a mixture of blood and sand.

You made it to the leader's hut. The rest of the tribe surrounded you, swaying and hissing rhythmically.

The chief emerged from his tent. He was also daubed in the dark red, festooned in gold and sinew, a headdress resting like a crown on his brow. He slid forwards and took your left hand in his before being passed a bowl of a thick reddish liquid. It stank of blood. He drank, the liquid flowing from the sides of his mouth, adding to the stains on his body before handing you the bowl.

Everyone was looking at you. You brought the bowl to your lips and drank. Whatever the biochemists did to you, you're glad it turned off your gag reflex. The bowl was filled with some sort of liquor: coppery-tasting, thick, and definitely alcoholic.

You drained the bowl, the last of the liquid flowing down your throat and down the corners of your mouth.

Your head started to swim, the edges of the world became softer. A heat grew within your belly and you fell into the leader's arms.

Back in his hut, you lay on the sandy floor, the heat of the sand warming you as you stared at the leader while he stared back at you. You crawled over to him, the heat and tightness in your belly growing. He was looking at you with half-lidded eyes as he lazily rolled onto his back.

Your hands slipped into his genital slit, feeling the thick rod of his cock and slipping it out, stroking it gently as it pulsed and rose. As it reached its peak, another popped out, taking its place below the first. You took the upper one in your mouth, right hand pumping the lower as the leader hissed contentedly, he was saying something, but you didn't care enough to try and translate it. If it's important, he'd tell you again later.

The leader had no such philosophy. He grabbed you by the waist and dangled you over his cocks, lining the top one up with your cunt as the lower one teased your asshole.

You didn't resist, you could feel your scales dripping wetness over the cocks below you, licking your fingers and rubbing them against your asshole to try and lubricate it a little before nodding at the leader.

He lowered you down, taking his time as his tapered cocks filled both of your holes. Your ass clenched against him, but the gradual thickening and your arousal let you push him in against your protesting sphincter.

You were only halfway down when you started to rock back and forth on his cocks, feeling them rub against each other inside you as you probed them around inside you. You weren't as used to your new body as you were when you were fully human, the erogenous zones were in slightly different places. Where the cocks pushed against each other sent thrilling shivers up your spine

You were made for this, designed for it.

You rocked faster, feeling his cock tease the entrance to your womb. He reared up, coiling and holding your hips horizontally against him. His muscular body thrust up to you, arms swinging you into his cocks as he used your holes. The world spun faster as you looked up at him, your breathing quickening as your body clenched and tightened.

A hiss, deep and breathy, escaped you. You felt yourself give in to him, your cunt milking his cock as he lost control and buried himself in you.

Both cocks were pulsing, sending streams of hot fluids into you. Squirt after squirt he filled you. His semen was much thicker than you were used to, you could feel it coating your insides, like being filled with jello.

At last he pulled out, the thick spunk staying put inside you, forming a semi-solid plug in both holes that your cunt and ass muscles clenched against, sending post-orgasmic throbs through you.

You curled up on him as he wrapped himself around you.

It's three months later now. You lay your clutch a few days ago. You figured out a day or two that you'd probably married into the tribe, but given how compatible your biology was with theirs, that was probably the idea. You'd started teaching them the technical manuals for the wind traps, the satellite uplinks, the deep drilling rigs, and all the other tech you'd been inserted with. If they were going to treat you like a living goddess, you may as well use your scripture for something useful. Command hasn't been in touch, maybe you'd been abandoned here?

You shrug, staring into the sunset with your husband, clad in the clattering jewellery of your tribe, surrounded by your adoptive family.

You'll never be lonely again

############################

Well done for making it this far! This is the longest thing I've written all year, and I doubt I'll be doing another one this long either.

Again, if you want to suggest almost anything, shoot me a DM or an ask (DMs are better if you want to workshop something and get it just so, asks are better for drive-by horn)

[stormlight-archive]

Hi it’s me from earlier! As I type this out I realize I’m just adding criticism rather than asking a question but…I’ve seen so many good points made about the way the darkeyes’ oppression was neglected in Kaladin’s later arc, and to extend on that, I feel it was discarded in Moash’s as well. After Elhokar, nearly all the people he kills/tries to kill are darkeyed and were victimized similar to him (Kal, Teft, Sig, Lirin, Leyten, the prisoners), the exceptions being Roshone & Navani. Which could be such an interesting angle to his character if intentional, but as far as I can tell it doesn’t seem like an intentional critique by BS. Which sucks because he’s a great character!

His actions make ok sense when he’s Vyre, but after getting emotions back, it seems ooc for him to be reminded of his vision of equality and decide the way to achieve it is…killing exclusively the group of freed Bridgemen? Not attempting to sway them, just butchering, as opposed to, idk, trying to go after actual, continuing perpetuators of the systems. And they don’t seem to be using him as a regular soldier even, just a Bridge 4 assassin

It feels like such waste of opportunity for others to either call out this irony, or for the books to use it to differentiate btwn Moash and Vyre & it felt anticlimactic that, getting emotions back, he just kept doing the same thing. I want to hope that this just setting up for a comeback later, but it irks me. And the criticism I see of him is always betraying his friends, but not betraying the values he was willing to die for, which is just as tragic/interesting.

Sorry this is SOOO long, and maybe my read is incomplete (it has been a while since I reread) but I really like your dissections of the series and am curious if you had thoughts on this as well. I think current villain Moash who had his original dreams from the first two books & was grappling with what he was willing to give up to achieve them would be infinitely more interesting than whatever is going on now :/ or at least, I would have loved to see others call out how he’s lost sight of his goals/is working furthering the goals of another tyrannical noble/is hurting almost exclusively his own community. The vision Todium gave him of an equal future in WaT felt, to me, like a cheap reminder to the audience of Moash’s og arc rather than a continuation/reminder that the systemic problems he fought continue to exist, kind of to the point you both made earlier

God I've written out paragraphs in response to this message but I feel like I sound insane. So I'll scrap it for now.

I'll just say that yes you are so right and it makes me so mad. Ive never been more disappointed with how moash has been written than i am with book 5, which says a fucking lot.

Such a nothing character. What the fuck happened to him

[la2yn0va]

Crazed Deprivation

CW: Crazy Reader.

Character: Feixiao

——

Feixiao had always known there was SOMETHING off with you. From the warnings and constant worries from your one close friend about your sleep schedule, to your strange tendency to sleep wherever whenever.

She didn’t think much of it at first, until she heard you laughing late at night. The laugh was nothing like the laugh she grew to love from you, rather it was…crazed. Unhinged, Insane, Creepy.

The laugh that made her shiver in fear of YOU. Her own lover. She couldn’t help it anymore, she couldn’t stand being afraid of YOU, she needed to find out what was wrong with you.

She asked your one and only friend if they had any idea what that laugh was about. They were terrified, which made her more curious and scared.

They explained what they knew about your condition. If you miss a day of sleep, your whole mind changes into something dark, crazy, inhuman.

Feixiao couldn’t believe it, what condition was that? Surely it couldn’t be true? If it was, why wasn’t it well known?

She decided to take a risk, and sent you out on a late night mission, a simple escort mission through a borisin camp and towards a remote village.

She watched you from the trees as you effortlessly finished the mission, but then once you left the vicinity your demeanor changed. Your eyes wide, a smile creeping onto your face, bloodshot lines appearing in your sclera.

She watched in disbelief, believing it was a hallucination or a trick of some kind. But then she heard that laugh, the same laugh that made her start this whole ‘experiment’

You weren’t ‘you’ anymore, she immediately knew this was someone else. Your once charming sleepiness was replaced with a fire in your eyes, fire that wanted to see chaos.

She swallowed, her mind screaming at her to stop you before you do ANYTHING, yet her heart told her it’s still you. She listened to her mind once she saw you punching a tree and laughing at the pain.

M/n?: Come out! I know you’re here somewhere!!

Feixiao’s eyes widened, suprised that ‘M/n’ could sense her. She sighed before showing herself, and surprisingly, his eyes widened with…love?

M/n?: Darling!! It’s you!!

Feixiao:…M/n?

M/n?: That’s me, dear~!

She didn’t lower her guard, this was m/n’s face. But NOT m/n. Instinctively, she dodged an attack to her face. Grabbing this impostor and slamming him onto the ground, quickly restraining him.

Imposter: Hey—!! That’s not how you treat your lover~

Feixiao: Silence! I won’t tolerate your trickery impostor! Who’re you!

Imposter:…Tsk…I’m your lover— NGH!!

She tightened her grip, not allowing any movement or smartass responses.

Impostor:…LET ME GO!! IVE BEEN IN THIS BRATS BODY FOR TO LONG TO LET HIS FUCKING MASTER TO CHAIN ME DOWN!!!

Feixiao: Answer my question!

Imposter: For a bitch with ears that reach the sky, you’re fucking deaf. IM NOT YOUR SLAVE!!

He bashed the back of his head against Feixiao’s face, making her flinch and release you for a second. He quickly tried to attack her, but she immediately stopped any movements, grabbing this imposter and slamming him against a tree, keeping his hands pinned ontop of his head.

Imposter: NGHH…!!! Ahahaha…! You know your just hurting this brats body the more your fight back. Right~?

Feixiao growled, seeing her lovers body being piloted like a meat puppet by this freak was sickening to her. She gripped harder, watching this fake wince in pain.

Feixiao: But you still get hurt. Now answer me!! WHO ARE YOU!!

Imposter: Ahahaha…!! Let me tell you something….!! I’m gonna rip those pretty fucking orbs out and— AHH!!

She began to choke him, believing if she can put this person to sleep, then the ACTUAL m/n would return to her. Her idea seemed to have merit, as the impostor was panicking and hitting her, every hit becoming weaker.

Imposter: YOU FUCKIN…. BORISIN SCUM…!!! ILL FUCKING KILL YOU….YOU MANGY DOG…!!!

He threw insults at her, yet she remained unaffected. The only sadness she felt was hitting her lovers body to save him from this scum. The imposter then smiled and began to laugh at the pain, deciding to leave some words of wisdom before IT leaves.

Imposter: Let me tell you….! When you fucking die, this brat’ll mourn…!! He won’t sleep, and I’ll return….!! And when I do…I’ll burn your precious ship….TO THE GROUND!!! AND MUTILATE….THAT PATHETIC ASSASSIN AND DOCTOR OF YOURS……!!!!

He spat out, his laughter dying out as he passed out. She let go, looking a mixed of fearful at the thought and saddened at the events.

She closed her eyes and picked you up, deciding to sleep on it.

-The End-

Sorry this ended abruptly, I got tired.

[melliae]

Hong Lu, An Analysis-Prediction

Before beginning, as always, I've to clarify something: I haven't read Dream of the Red Chamber. My best source of information are the thematic connections drawn in the Reddit sub of Limbus, and that only gives me a slight idea of what Project Moon may have in mind.

So, everything below here is complete and utter speculation based on my own knowledge and impressions about Hong Lu's character, Sins, EGOS, and Abnormalities. Beware, and feel free to comment your own opinions!

Now, let's go with the post!

What We Know

So, I think the best way to start this analysis is by recapitulating Hong Lu’s overall character so far. For that, we need to return to the first ever explanation of his personality: the “resume” given in the game page and during his presentation in Selva Oscura.

“As such, he has a certain admiration for a free life; but occasionally, he may make ignorant and unsavory questions in regards to the food cooked by a certain other Sinner or other aspects of the low-lives' lowly culture. [,,,] However, it is important to note that no sarcastic undertones are contained in his curiosity-driven inquiries, so it is ill-advised to let them get physical over it.”

As a general thing… It surprisingly holds up! Don’t misunderstand me, though. It isn’t that the description is perfect; it’s just not untrue. In fact, his first even line in the game, about Dante’s head being some sort of trend and not waiting for an answer, totally falls there. Similarly, there are several other moments showing Hong Lu’s innocence and naivety without any ulterior or hidden motive, from wondering if the casino workers of Canto II were trying to make the Peccatula their pets (likely because his grandmother collects weird animals) to unintentionally insulting Outis’ watch in Canto VI. I’d say the biggest proof of his lack of experience is the moment in Canto V where he adjusted the LCCB badge of a pirate that very obviously wasn’t a member of Limbus. Though all of his weirdness may derive from the fact that his elders—which are weird as hell—are his point of reference.

Now, since his most notable trait has been explained, we can move into the discrepancies of the description, and the biggest one is mentioned at the end: that under Hong Lu's comments there is no sarcasm—which is a complete lie! This man is a menace, and the Sinner’s experiences in District 20 during To Claim Their Bones and Canto VI shows it, from agreeing with Caiman’s assessment of LCB to joining Nelly’s teasing, including his lines while helping Heathcliff with his appearance and clothes. But arguably, my favorite example of this is the horror story he told during Canto V that scared Sinclair and which he only finished when the latter ran away. Don't tell me Hong Lu was being innocently insensitive back there: Sinclair was visibly shitting bricks, and the pretty boy here is keen enough to masterfully play the most compassionate and kind member of the League of Nine.

“Brother Young-ji was a man of kindness. He was not one to rashly harbor spite or reproach for others. You resemble him in that sense.” - Yi Sang, Blossoming League of Nine Littérateurs, Canto IV.

Though I suppose the difference between them is that Hong Lu clearly has a more optimistic and fun-loving attitude. This is an obvious trait that he has had since his childhood, when he played with and complained about his “cheating” siblings, sneaked into the dining hall of his manor for snacks, and simply didn’t follow his family’s rules. But since we know his family is extremely strict (if not outright sadistic), this sanguine streak may have developed (or gotten worse) as some sort of defense mechanism, which is seen better with Wakashu Hong Lu and his “lack of manners.” In fact, all of his Identities show an unnatural or improper calmness about his situation, no matter how horrible it is.

Another thing to highlight is his inquisitive, curious, and surprisingly understanding nature. While most of the examples above, especially him playing Young-ji, are proof of that, as it plays very well with his sheltered life. But I want to point out the best and most recent example of Hong Lu’s surprising contemplativeness: Time Killing Time. In particular, the most important scene is near the end, when Rodya and Hong Lu discuss his motivation to pursue the Time Reaper:

“I... just wanted to understand. Because, to me, the world was full of things I couldn't understand. In truth, I still understand so little of it. Why do people hang on so desperately to something like time? Something so... ephemeral?” - Hong Lu, Chapter 15: The Final Problem.

It’s normal to assume Hong Lu’s words are solely referring to the miserable monetary system of T Corp., but I don't think that’s all. We know that Hong Lu and Xinchun are well acquainted with the “immortality of the mind” the elders of their family are obsessed with, and what is immortality but infinite time? Thus, what Hong Lu asked there was why people hang on to the erroneous belief that life should not move or change, remaining constant and hence perfect for the rest of eternity. Yet, that isn’t what life truly is, right? It’s not for nothing that Hong Lu’s introductory quote is that “life has its vicissitudes as jade has its flaws,” which conveys his philosophy of detachment perfectly.

“When you’re distraught, simply remember that life goes on even if what you’re doing now doesn’t work out. Then, you’ll be free of worries.” - LCB Hong Lu

However, while the idea of detaching oneself from the whole without renouncing loving it is respectable, the way in which Hong Lu lives it is far from perfect, because detachment is not about carefreely admitting you will just simply gather the remains of your sister in case she is mutilated or readily accepting a horrible death just because you don’t mind dying. Even he himself admits from time to time, as with his jealousy over Heathcliff’s propensity to “ignore what he doesn’t like” (Rooms Past the Door) or Rim’s capacity to fly freely. In fact, one may even say that he hasn’t become detached at all, because doing so implies the complete acceptance of the “jade’s” beauty and flaws; Hong Lu, however…

“A thousand hours… Will a thousand hours have passed in the blink of an eye? [...] Then... I like that. Rip my time away.” - Hong Lu, Chapter 14: The Clock Tower of Fear, TimeKilling Time.

He has become detached from life altogether, and how could he not with the disaster that his family is? That likely was his only way to survive in such an environment, and unlike the rest of the Jia, he doesn’t seem to have that lucky predisposition for resentment and hatred. Even when his siblings tried to kill him the first time, Hong Lu didn’t come to hate them; he fully understood them because that’s the kind of person he is, just like Young-ji. However, since he realized such a thing through his big heart, he’s now fully aware that he will ultimately and cruelly die by their hands thanks to his love. In such a case, what other option does he have beyond merely “dancing”? A joke here, a sarcastic comment there, and a final appreciation for everyone so nothing is taken seriously and causes dissatisfaction, no matter how dim his eye becomes.

So, as of the 5th Walpurgisnacht, Hong Lu’s character can be summarized as follows:

Has a friendly, compassionate, and understanding personality that clashes against the violent and strict nature of his family.

Became detached over his own life because he can’t bring himself to hate and hurt his family.

His carefree attitude and sheltered life lead him to not understand some of the social conventions of… anyone who still has some respect for their own life.

Has a certain sarcastic and teasing streak, likely originating from both his personality and ideology.

There’s 1 aspect remaining that I didn’t mention above because I think it’s better to analyze Hong Lu’s EGOs first, to see what else we can rescue before giving a sort of “conclusion.”

About EGOs

Before any of you ask, no, I will not analyze Land of Illusion here; it’s best reserved for the next section, about Hong Lu Base ID. Instead, the first EGO I’ll deal with is, fittingly, the first one he ever received: Roseate Desire.

Roseate Desire originates from Pink Shoes, an Abnormality that evidently is an Aberration of Lobotomy Corp.’s Red Shoes, with their shared meaning being that of a single-minded and very violent obsession that’s impossible to resist—one of the purest expressions of Lust. But while Red Shoes and its EGO are fundamentally egoistic, not wanting to share the glory and pleasure of their desire’s fulfillment, Pink Shoes and Roseate Desire are of a softer shade, spreading their overwhelming lust to as many people as possible. The difference becomes clearer when you compare Rodya’s and Ishmael’s respective obsessions: the longing to be special vs. the desire to kill the “source of all evil” in retribution for all she has done.

Applying the former logic to Hong Lu, we can conclude first that he has a desire as strong as Ishmael’s hatred for Ahab, which is quite unexpected for someone who has basically given up on life! Thankfully, the Sin resources his version of Roseate Desire costs tell us a couple of things about his “fixation”: 4 Lust and 2 Envy. The dominance of Lust is self-explanatory, so that leaves us with Envy, which I commented on in the previous section: jealousy over those who can ignore and escape their problems—those who are “free.” Yet, since Roseate Desire and Pink Shoes are characterized by a sort of collective hedonism, so is Hong Lu’s wish to escape his family. Surely such a thing will bring joy to his cut-throat siblings.

And speaking about escapism, Hong Lu’s next two EGOs are all about that, beginning with the one whose Abnormality I analyzed in one of my previous posts: Dimension Shredder.

While Wayward Passenger is an Abnormality that is clearly about the trauma inflicted by W Corp.’s method of operation, it has a secondary meaning that Project Moon uses for its EGO too: being trapped in a horrible duty, necessity, or “path” that makes the individual envious of the life and possibilities others hold. This is best seen with Outis’ Dimension Shredder due to the Envy affinity, though Hong Lu’s Pride version isn’t that far off thanks to the Sin costs: 3 Pride and 3 Gluttony. Basically, it means that Hong Lu is “lost” due to external necessity, by things he can’t control (i.e., his family), but instead of resenting it as any other person would do, he takes pride in that, in having to follow a “terrible path,” because that’s the type of person he knows he is—the kind and understanding one that sacrifices himself.

The second EGO about escapism originates from LobCorp and hence from an Abnormality I haven’t analyzed: Soda and Opened Can of WellCheers, respectively. The two come from a Korean urban legend about people being drugged through juice cans and sold to fishing boats as slaves. Needless to say, the parallels with Hong Lu’s Soda are more than obvious: an envy born from a necessity (Gluttony) that grimly (Gloom) pushed him into a role he doesn’t want. Alternatively, and considering the ending of the Abnormality’s story log in LC, it’s the fulfillment of a fantasy born of jealousy, sadness, and necessity, though that doesn’t explain the Envy affinity of the EGO. Either way, nobody can deny that Soda stands for Hong Lu’s “murdered” wish to flee his circumstances.

The next EGO luckily is from another Abnormality I analyzed some time ago: Ambling Pearl and Effervescent Corrosion. However, unlike Rodya, who keeps the Abnormality’s original meaning mostly intact (safekeeping the “pearl”/one’s meaning from the “filthy” outside), Hong Lu gives it a twist: it’s not about protecting his “life treasure,” but something else

“Faust: For instance, let’s say that Hong Lu held a belief he was certain would be an unchanging constant as he lived in the City. Or, it could be a hope for some other psychological sustainment that has supported his life. Hong Lu: …Hmm. Faust: If that support suddenly collapses in a massively shocking event that causes one to let their “ego” go, his mind would crumble, so to speak. Hong Lu: …Well, I could see that happening. [...] Hong Lu: Hm… I thought I knew, but I can’t seem to elaborate on it with words right now.” - Chapter 3: Hell’s Chicken, Hell’s Chicken.

Unlike Rodya’s desire to be special and her notorious inner conflict, which is reflected in how similar her Corrosion is to a broken Ambling Pearl, Hong Lu is much more secretive about his opinions, usually referring to his frivolous comments instead of using the great insight he has, according to Dante. Nonetheless, even if we don’t exactly know the “core belief” he holds close to his heart (though we should have a general idea at this point), we do know that his version of Effervescent Corrosion, beyond Gluttony or the desire to survive, requires Gloom. So whatever Hong Lu is hiding, it’s far from happy, as his Sin weaknesses further show after EGO usage: weak to Lust and Sloth, to love and inaction—to the idea of not protecting himself.

In a similar vein, Hong Lu’s next EGO is entirely about sadness, as it comes from Blubbering Toad, aka depression incarnated. However, Cavernous Wailing isn’t a Gloom EGO but a Sloth one, and whose Sin costs are Gloom, Sloth, and Pride. That’s to say, Hong Lu’s refusal to take action and the resulting self-pity (“A heart shaken by sorrow bursts… like this.”) are fed by his sadness, indolence, and distorted self-perception, an aggrandized mental image of himself as able to carry all his pain without problem.

“It goes like this. Any of our siblings who managed to survive on their own up to the age of thirteen in our household will probably be a-okay even if they were to be tossed out to the middle of the Outskirts! Hehe…” - Hong Lu, Chapter 20, Canto VII.

Finally, the last EGO is the newly added Lasso, which comes from Rose Hunter, and really, its Mirror Dungeon Encounter puts it the best: Rose Hunter is the one who makes sure all stories follow their natural course, their flow, and “he” is no exception; the Hunter is willing to get lost if that’s the story it must obey. Fittingly, Lasso represents the same idea of not resisting one’s “tale” or “myth,” going along with what’s written not out of indolence or apathy, but because it’s necessary, akin to the motif of the “fetters of fate,” for example. In that regard, their underlying archetype is the same as that of the Orphic Ananke, the deification of the necessity that created the universe, which can be best understood through the following aphorism: existence came to be because it exists. Or put it in a simpler manner: you must follow your nature because that’s who you are.

Hong Lu’s Lasso, in the same way as Faust’s, requires first and foremost Gluttony to work, for that’s the entire deal of the Abnormality. Then comes the Lust requirement, which implies this “work” is also done out of either love or a twisted desire, a mania for things to follow their assigned nature or role. The final Sin cost is the variable one, which for Hong Lu is Pride again, his aggrandized sense of self that drives him to fulfill his role without complaining, solely out of love and necessity.

So, with all the EGOs analyzed, we can rescue the following:

Hong Lu, more than anything, wishes to escape the situation he has been put in. He wants to be free behind all those frivolous and/or insensitive commentaries.

However, due to his upbringing, he “murdered” those wishes so to speak, and remains walking the path his family has put him by many reasons, chief among them his love for them and his distorted perception of his own self.

Thus, all that longing and yearning for freedom remains hidden, barely able to see the light of the day except in the rarest of occasions. That’s likely his “pearl,” the thing that he ultimately hides for his own survival.

About His Base ID and EGO

You know, I have always been curious about why people are so adamant about Hong Lu being depressed. No doubt he has depression at some level, but I don’t think it’s as severe as people normally think it is because his Base ID simply lacks any form of Gloom. This is in stark contrast to Sinners such as Yi Sang, Gregor, and especially Ishmael, since she has a Gloom Base EGO as well. But if such is the case, then what does Land of Illusion means, since it requires Gloom to be used?

However, I think it’s important to understand Hong Lu’s Sin spread first, his psychology in this particular possibility:

His third skill, that is, his most inward and deep trait, is Lust. This Sin placement is only shared with LCB Heathcliff, whose devotion to Catherine is quite literally a multiversal constant as per Canto VI; everything he does, he does it for Cathy. Thus, Hong Lu must have a similarly romantic or affectionate nature, and we know that he isn’t the type to stop “loving” due to the cruelty of a person; his reaction towards the attempt against his life says enough. He even tried to understand the Time Ripper at some level during TimeKilling Time.

His second skill is Sloth, an inaction that’s much shallower but no less decisive, so to speak. One can understand it as deriving from his much more encompassing Lust or Love, which is to say that Hong Lu refuses to take action or initiative in his life out of love and understanding, in a similar manner to how LCB Faust lets her every move be commanded by the Gesellschaft thanks to her need for self-realization.

Finally, his third skill, his most outward and shallow trait, is Pride. This position is only shared with the Base IDs of Faust (again) and Sinclair, although the former is the easiest one to understand: Faust is somewhat haughty without a doubt, but not egocentric or self-absorbed by any metric; she’s just socially naive and with a great deal of knowledge that tends to ostracize her by her own volition. Pride is, after all, the de facto Sin of distorted self-perception, of thinking you are more capable than you really are.

Again, all of this tells us what we already know: the kindness of Hong Lu, his indolence born out of said kindness, and the weight he alone bears on his shoulders. We can’t even say that he has a low self-esteem unless we include in that definition a “imposing limits on who you are,” which, yes, sounds right, but it leans too much in the territory of semantics for my taste. Furthermore, Hong Lu’s strange relationship with Gloom and sadness can also be contrasted with the Sinners I mentioned before, those with Gloom and whose Cantos are available:

Yi Sang was the living stereotype of the depressed person: cold, distant, unfeeling, dead inside, etc. Whatever you name, Yi Sang likely had it.

Ishamel’s emptiness and self-destructivity were well-hidden until her Canto, during which all hell was let loose.

And Gregor is possibly one of the most realistic approaches of all, as we can see with the flashbacks of his past during Canto I. Even so, he… well, remains somewhat functional (and I’m really stretching the definition there xD)

And don’t get confused. In this case, Gloom isn’t equal to feeling sad or being traumatized by any means; every Sinner has their own share of problems, and not all have Gloom. Sinclair had his family and town massacred thanks to Kromer's obsession with him, for example, and while I don’t doubt he feels a deep sadness and regret about it, he doesn’t have Gloom in his Base ID. The same applies to Rodya, her low self-worth, and her guilt about the fate of her neighbors, lacking any sort of Gloom as well. The most extreme and recent case of this is boss Sancho, who doesn’t have any Gloom skill at all, despite her character and story being more than fitting.

Therefore, Gloom, in the straightest sense and avoiding exceptions or little quips, refers to a deep-seated hopelessness, a melancholy that devours all dreams and hopes, causing one to become completely lost in life. In such a case then, it’s not that Hong Lu isn’t sad or, damn, depressed, but that he knows how to manage such emotions so they don’t overwhelm him as they do with Gregor, Yi Sang, or Ishmael. The same likely happens with his wish to escape and his jealousy, for he seemingly knows that no life is truly a “flawless jade.”

“In a way, we’re all ‘deprived’... and that can change a lot of things. Maybe there are things that we can understand only when we’re left with nothing.” - Hong Lu, Chapter 1: Wuthering Heights, Canto VI.

This self-control naturally falls in line with his inclination for Pride and Lust, creating a sort of “transpersonal” point of view that allows him to curb his emotions in order to understand others. It’s quite Buddhist or Taoist, no? This kind of detachment over life I explained before, I mean. In a way, it strengthens the theory of Jia family elders treating Hong Lu as a golden child, and while he doesn’t seem to really like the idea, he resigned himself to it.

“I can't do much about what I was born with~ To them... I was a gem of a child.” - Hong Lu, Liu Association South Section 5 Uptie Story.

He renounced all the transient things in his life, all of his wishes and sadness, in order to carry out his family’s expectations: the preferred family head candidate. And what is another form to call transient things? Illusions.

Land of Illusion is the culmination of Hong Lu’s hidden sadness, his yearning to escape that will forever remain out of his reach—or at least he thinks so.

“With this there is often, to a smaller or greater extent, a savior complex, or a Messiah complex, with the secret thought that one day one will be able to save the world; the last word in philosophy, or religion, or politics, or art, or something else, will be found.” - Marie-Louise von Franz, The Problem of the Puer Aeternus.

Hong Lu doesn’t believe himself to be a savior, naturally. But I cannot deny that it would be very much in character for him to imagine or fantasize about a world where he doesn’t have to fulfill his family expectations, where they can all be happy. That would explain the Lust cost of Land of Illusions, as well as the weaknesses to Envy and Wrath, which are a stand-in for the rejection of his innermost wish.

But alas, at the end, life has its flaws, and there’s no way Hong Lu will raise a fist against his family. Even if his survival depends on it, Hong Lu won’t defend himself because that would mean choosing and thus losing, and there’s nothing more terrifying to the eternal child than losing things. Death is a much more merciful and tempting possibility than acting and suffering.

“The puer aeternus very often has this mature, detached attitude toward life, which is normal for old people but which he acquires prematurely—the idea that life is not everything, that the other side is valid too, that life is only part of the whole existence. [...] So before he has gone down to earth, he already has the offer of death.” - The Problem of the Puer Aeternus.

In this regard, it doesn’t matter much Dante’s rewind or the actual existence of an afterlife. It’s the idea of death as a solution for a hard life, instead of confronting the problem itself, of standing up and withstand the uncertainty and pain of life.

AAt the end of his Canto, Hong Lu will have to stand up for himself and to carry on the pain. That's how a "child" becomes an "adult," or better said, an actual family head.

Post-Commentary

... Yeah.

To be honest, I don't know where the inspiration behind came for this. It just fell on me one day, like Faust's theory. But where I'm confident in that one, I'm completely lost in this post, especially because while the conclusion seems right (standing up to the abuse and expectations coming from one's family), the reasoning is somewhat flimsy? I don't know. I have the feeling that I'm retreating Canto VII's (and even Canto III's) story and themes somehow, though the similarities may be the reason of why Xinchun was introduced, maybe. That would make Don's confusion funnier xD

The final mentions of the puer aeternus (similar to the Peter Pan syndrome, but not quite) are due to how Hong Lu's character screamed "puer" to me, surpassing every other one. The fact his summary highlighted that he is a "bachelor" brought to mind this little quote of Marie-Louise's books:

“The two typical disturbances of a man wh ohas an outstanding mother complex are, as Jung points out, homosexuality and Don Juanism.”

If a man gets around too frequently, he'll obviously not get married. If he's gay, then even less reason to do so or look at women. In this case, the idea is not about the actual sexual orientation of Hong Lu (or the accuracy of the book's assessment), and more about highlighting his refusal to commit.

Also, as a funny note, The Problem of the Puer Aeternus has a fragment that's really similar to, from what I've gathered, the warnings the monks gave to the Stone at the beginning. Since the book also deals with the case of Saint-Exupéry and The Little Prince, there may also be something interesting regarding Demian (Limbus', not Hesse's).

Anyway, and repeating myself, if you have any other opinion or thought you want to share, feel free to do so! Similarly, if you notice any orthographical or grammatical error, let me know. It's difficult to see them, even when using several online tools...

[kittycarabiner]

when you say youre into some aspects of cnc, do you mind sharing which aspects? ive always been curious to explore it myself

i like the idea of surrendering control, being manhandled around. tied up/down, gagged. being used 😵‍💫

i just want to give up control and let someone do whatever they want with me tbh. i think somno is also hot too. being woken up to a hand sliding down my pajama pants? yeah..

i like the idea of being made to take what im given. it's just really hot. i think the major concept i love is giving up full control and just being used.

ooh and being filmed too. bonus points if they use faux sympathy on me and act condescending tbh

obviously with safe guards in place if i get too overwhelmed but yeah. hopefully that all makes sense and i don't seem dumb lol

[goomyloid]

the chara comic you posted is awesome! i really love the way you color things!

personally, i think chara would not be okay with seeing the monsters be killed, even to "see everything about them because they love them". if i interpreted the comic correctly, and you were suggesting that they would think it's worth it to "see everything", i'd like to ask: why do you think that?

i'm not trying to be confrontational or anything, i'm just curious about your interpretation of their character

hiii firstly thank you for enjoying my comic!! i worked pretty hard on it so im really glad people like it!

i had to think about this question for a while, and i guess this is my answer:

i think that while chara was alive, they weren’t okay with seeing monsters around them die, and wouldnt kill them themself, but that doesn’t mean they were ‘pure’ and against killing altogether; they did want to kill the humans from their village, and getting the chance to do so was presumably one of the reasons they were willing to commit suicide. after all, it seemed to me like their plan was just as much of a revenge plan as it was a plan to save monsterkind, and i think it’s a common interpretation that they were stewing on those negative feelings after death for a loooong time.

though i suppose that’s just my reasoning for their capacity to kill. in terms of them wanting to “see everything,” i intended for there to be a few different meanings/implications for this:

1. the more literal comparison to the player, relating to how we do the no mercy route not because we hate the characters, but because we love them; we want to see everything they have to say, even if it means hurting them, because we’re too attached to the world undertale has to offer (though this feeling depends on your personal experience with the game)

2. the less literal, more diegetic comparison to flowey, who has cycled through numerous timelines, “reading every book” and “burning every book” so to speak, i.e. seeing everything the world has to offer — not out of love, but in a desperate attempt for entertainment, since he couldnt feel love himself. hence the line, “you need more and more and more love, but it’s never enough. so you stretch everything thin until it breaks.”

3. a nod to chara’s tendency to push things to its limit in general. things like them filling water glasses all the way to the top, or 9 being their favorite number. but their desire for extremes (such as their plan, which was pretty extreme if you ask me) doesnt always end in success; sometimes it ends in dire failure.

this, along with the fact that no matter what interpretation of chara you may hold, they generally might not have been the greatest person. which makes sense, right? no one is gonna be entirely good or bad. if anything, people tend to portray more of the ‘bad’ side of chara we see in the no mercy route. and while chara interpretations historically DO tend to be overwhelmingly (and inaccurately) negative (insane killer facemelty evil demon and all that), it still feels wrong to me to do a complete 180 and say chara was completely good and normal and hated dying and death and everything related to it. (not that this was your interpretation ofc, just using hyperbole to describe other interpretations ive seen in passing)

before this gets wildly too long, the point ive been trying to get to is that there’s Nuance. i dont think chara is “okay” with killing monsters so much as them seeing it as a means to an end, in a sense; the person doing it is trying to achieve something outside of just Piles of Asriel's Monster Dust. to “love something so much you want to destroy it” isn’t usually a conclusion most normal people come to, but these three entities in question — the player, flowey, and chara — are definitely Not Normal, each in their own respective ways. all of this is to say that chara doesn't necessarily condone the player annihilating monsterkind or flowey toying with people's lives, they can understand the sentiment behind it and Why we do it.

i could go on but the TLDR is that: while i think chara has the capacity to wish death on others in general, the main idea is less about what they think is morally right or wrong and more about their reaction to OUR (and by extension, flowey's) decisions; it's less so chara "being okay" with monsters dying (in fact, i tried to convey that they're not all that happy about it, with how they look down at flowey rather Menacingly on that one page) and more of them analyzing the situation as a whole and reflecting on their life and sentiments.

DEEPLY SORRY FOR THE WALL OF TEXT but it was fun to get my thoughts out more clearly! usually i like to leave comics like this more up to the reader's interpretation, so if others saw it differently than me, that's totally okay, these are just my personal thoughts ^^

[crushedsweets]

hi thereee!! I’m not sure if I asked u or somebody else but I’m super curious, dyk the relationship between nina and Kate?? Like do they know eachother?? I’m hoping ur having a lovely day!!!

hihihi!!!

in my AU, romantic ninakate is NOT canon! no ships are canon in my AU. so i'll answer in their "canon" relationship to my AU, and the "uncanon" version in which I ship them!

this is a totally long, rambly, messy type post cuz im scrambling to finish before i get ready for class LOLLLL i miss crp but ive been so busy. EVERYTHING IS TAILORED TO MY AU BTWWWW SO IF THINGS SEEM INACCURATE/OOC/ETC...i know. LOL

so their 'CANON' relationship in my AU is very friendly! i think they'd think the other is cute, but kate's never gonna make a move and nina is on some sort of Healing Journey (lol) so pursuing kate isn't on her radar. unresolved crushes and all, but not too serious

i think a lot of their friendship would come from both wanting to protect eachother in different ways, i.e kate walking nina home even if its pitch black out and several miles back, or nina bringing kate food because she's nervous about kates health.

kate would be VERY interested in nina as a person, cuz the last time kate was really in society, she was 13 and only had like two friends. now she's just spent 10+ years under slendermans rule. so seeing such a bright, bubbly, colorful, fashionable, glittery girl amongst the rest of her dirty, annoying, rude "friends"...she's drawn to her like a moth to a flame LOL. kate is curious enough to keep following nina around and she's quiet enough to nod along to nina's lengthy rambles. kate also feels pretty bad for nina cuz she's kind of the butt of a lot of jokes, and kate is very familiar with being the "runt" of the proxies

nina's always been attracted to (platonically or romantically) weirdos, so kate's unsettling demeanor and general habit of being covered in blood and dirt immediately has nina intrigued. "sooo where'd you get that bruise?" "what're you carrying a rock for?" "omg kate you look so scary how cute come take a selfie with me" "wtf why are you covered in dirt when have you last been at the cabin haha are you hungry i can cook" and ninas general kindness is pleasant to be around, amongst all the misery. it eases a lot of kates perpetual anxiety (after she learns to trust her, of course) and gives her a sense of normalcy that the other proxies cant

i also think kate has a habit of being protective over whatever toby is protective over LMFAOOOO so if anything happens to toby, clocky, jack, or nina, kate's immediately gonna intervene.

overall, really sweet i think! nina is the first person(outside of toby) that kate would warm up to, and she'd give her a LOT of grace that she doesn't present to the other guys

AS FOR THEIR UNCANON RELATIONSHIP IN WHICH I SHIP THEMMMM... ok actually the first half is canon, the second half is where i diverge

nina is disposing of bodies for jeff, its taking a MASSIVE toll on her mental health

kate stumbles upon this and sort just nudges nina away from the body bag and disposes of it herself, telling nina to go home. nina begs kate not to tell toby/clocky and she's like "ok." ....and then tells toby anyway

toby kicks jeffs ass, jeff stabs nina in anger

nina gets patched up by jack, and the proxies agree to let nina stay at the cabin till they can ensure jeff wont try to kill her again.

SO UP TO THAT POINT IS CANON IN MY AU. it's what happens in the cabin that is romantic and non-canon!

so, tim, brian, and toby are busy with missions out in the city. so that leaves kate to watch over nina.

antics ensue, nina's a blubbering mess cuz it was a traumatic experience, kate is just kinda stoic and doesnt know how to comfort her. first night kate sleeps on the couch, second night nina asks kate to share the bed with her, third night nina kisses kate in a desperate-for-comfort way.

drama ensues where both of them are trying to brush it off as like. "ok using kate as a rebound is CRAAAZYYY lets forget this" but it Really ignites some feelings. and in this version of my AU, kate would have had a long-term crush on nina that went unexplored due to her disinterest/inability to pursue romance

LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. its largely based off one of my favorite songs "just a friend" by the backseat lovers, with these lyrics

[antimony-medusa]

hiya medusa its been a while! im curious - as someone who has been watching phil for a while now, have you noticed anything specific thats changed with how he does rp/creates his characters? ive not had the chance to see much of his qsmp stuff, but i imagine having done various smps with various levels of rp/lore, there must have been changes to his approach

Okay so there have been two big changes from DSMP to QSMP that I've noticed. The first one is just that Phil is way more willing to do lore, and to tell his own story? In DSMP he was constantly deferring to whoever the writers were for the arc and never wanted to run over any of that, so he'd be really reluctant to join RP when it wasn't "official canon" and he'd be very careful not to overstep the bounds of the story other people had written. It was always lore being written by someone else— wilbur or techno or tommy or sam or dream— I think the syndicate end is the only one he actually fully wrote? On QSMP he's WAY more open with telling his own story. With the ender king possession arc that we just had, he just role-played for I think over two hours over two different streams, and that was a story he built collaboratively with the admins, but it was also one he clearly had a hand in himself. So I would say just the willingness to roleplay and tell a story is much increased. And he's using cinematics and special Minecraft skins and voice modulators— he's going for it!

The other change is uh, the gay roleplay and flirting. If you watch things like Hexxit Homies Phil definitely used to be more comfortable playing into the relationship rp, but on DSMP he was surrounded by minors or characters he was canonically related to or creators who didn't really go for flirting on-screen (techno). So all of that stopped. And then he went to QSMP and FitMC was there, and Charlie Slime, and Etoiles, and Missa, and boy. Phil flirts back/rps back now. And will say things like "stay away from my platonic husband!" and put his bed next to someone's, and pole dance on his husband, and tell FitMC he's stolen his heart, and talk about his cock with Etoiles, and much more. You can just tell that he has way less issue with the jokes and the implications now. Which honestly makes perfect sense, playing into gay rp with someone who can legally rent a car and who is clearly delightedly making jokes about it is not the the same as with a sixteen year old. To understate the situation slightly.

[liminal-therianthropy]

hi!! ^_^ I see that you’re a wolf therian and I’m curious if u have any advice for those that are questioning if they are a wolf or a different wild canine? If u want to share, how did you discover it yourself? personally, I’ve always pretended to be a wolf as a child. I’ve always loved them. I’ve been identifying as a wolf therian for a while. but in a way it doesn’t feel completely right. I’m definitely a dog, but I wonder if I’m still another wild canid. The only other canids that could potentially fit are coyotes and maned wolves. but I keep feeling wolfy and imagining my body as such. I think it’s bc of how exposed and interested in wolves I’ve been lately. I’m unsure of how to shake it. bc I want to experiment with labeling myself as a different canid. when I think about it my traits are more similar to those two instead of wolves. I kinda don’t want to be a wolf. but I don’t have the same connection to them…. Yet. do you have any tips on figuring out which fit beyond research? how do I know what feels right? how do I know when my identity is genuine or if it just bc I want to be something?

Hello hello anon! Good question!!! This might be a tad rambly as im not the best at coming up with summaries or words. Sorry if this goes in circles or doesnt make sense! I'll try to go in a straight line as much as possible. Plus i will make spelling mistakes sorry for that in advance as well! How i found out about theriananthropy was literally i was scrolling on tiktok and found out about that it existed at all and was supportive. I knew about otherkin through my friend {who is dragon kin among other kins}, and i thought nothing of it. I had never looked inward to strongly with myself but i knew that being called human wasnt right in the slightest. Then it happened. My first shift. Well at least my first wolf shift. My first ever shift was that of a rat, but that is a story for another time. My first ever wolf shift is hard to remember due to some memory problems but i remember going straight to my friend about it, freaking out. I thought it was only a one time thing, the shifts. But they kept happening. I wasnt sure what it was and i wanted my friend to help me essentially. I am very close to him as ive know him from elementary school and we told each other EVERYTHING. He then {calmly} explained to me what i was experiencing. And we went on an internet scavenger hunt of sorts. Looking at definitions, comparing them to what i was experiencing, and coming to a hard conclusion. I remember feeling semi lost and in denial for about a week. But i remember having a wolf phantom shift. I knew it was wolf as thats how i mentally addressed myself at that time. I felt ears and a tail. I walked on my toes sometimes as that felt natural. At work. Which was very awkward. When i came to the conclusion i was a wolf, it was more of a gut feeling. I didnt want to be a wolf at the time! I wanted to be a hyena or something else i currently can not remember. But not a wolf!!! My friend told me to go with my gut. See what felt right. Look at images of that animal and compare to how i saw myself in that moment. And thats what i did. I did some research into red wolves specifically as thats what felt correct. And it hit me right across the face! I am a red wolf. It made sense, i pretended to be a werewolf for example as a child, i wore a {fake} tail to highschool as i felt like i had a tail. And i came to accept it. Thats just my wolf experience though, my other theriotypes and kin types each had a different experience but i dont think ya wanna be here all day for that lmao. My advice is to go with yer gut! While research does wonders, you know you better then prob more creatures. What /does/ feel correct? If you have shifts of any kind, what are they? How do you mentally address yerself species wise? When you look inward, what do you see staring back at you? I hope this answered yer question! I love rambling so thank you for asking this!! ^^ {I was wanting to wait till my poll had more answers but i really wanted to answer this ^^;}