#why must the fandom pain be shared

[thequeenofsastiel]

Where's that one BTS video in which Ohm and Nanon are on a bed and Nanon is trying to give an interview and Ohm keeps poking at him the whole time while Nanon casually swipes his hand away?

[yandere-wishes]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡Acolyte⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic  

🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.

You messed up again.

"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"

The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.

You roll your eyes.

"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"

You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.

Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."

Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.

But the sugar refuses to stick to you.

It burns away in your bitterness.

Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.

You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.

The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.

Trapped and fatal.

"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.

"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.

Hesitantly you bite.

Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.

"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."

"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.

"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.

"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.

"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.

Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.

Master,

Knight,

Padwan,

Apostate,

You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.

Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.

His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.

You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness

You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.

You smile. Easier this time.

They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.

But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.

The distance grows, some icy void.

Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.

But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.

Looking back it was evident.

Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.

Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?

You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.

The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.

It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.

Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.

You breathe in the night air deeply.

Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.

Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.

The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.

What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?

"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."

It speaks

"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"

Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.

"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.

Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.

The hiss, the green light.

The figure chuckles.

Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.

"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."

Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.

You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.

long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.

Only You

They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.

The smile grows.

In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.

"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."

Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.

"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.

The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.

The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.

He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.

your flesh.

"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."

His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.

Something you've been denied your whole life.

"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."

He nicks his thumb on your teeth,

Pressing bone into dentin.

His essence drips into you.

He tastes of power.

Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.

"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."

The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.

"They only break you further"

Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.

The ground feels too solid beneath you.

A poly, a ruse.

You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.

He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.

"Teach me..."

You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.

But you need this.

this power

this control.

him.

Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.

He never said it wasn't love at first fright.

Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.

You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.

"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.

Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.

Jacki wraps around your arm.

You feel at times they are trying to tame you.

Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.

The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.

There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.

There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.

He looks so innocent...

Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,

School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.

Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.  

"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"

"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.

He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes

"You taste so sweet"

Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.

Maybe your new master is right.

Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.

The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.  

The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.

Maybe you really did miss them.

Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.

You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.

Pinning after forbidden love,

Forbidden power.

Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.

He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.

These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.

"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.

Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.

His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you

He always enjoys you.

It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks

The world is dark,

He alone is absolute.

Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.

Still, you long to call after him.

"Master"

The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.

What's this

The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.

During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.

He can never be wrong.

You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.

He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.

"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."

The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.

You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.

The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.

Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.

'Gone to get more Strawberries.

Be back soon.'

You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.

Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.

The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?

Death looms.

Permanent, Eternal

The fighting began in twilight.

The sky has grown two shades darker since.

He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.

Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre

the smile never relents.

He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.

Saber sings saber.

Golden light flickers.

Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.

Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?

You won't take it for granted this time you swear.

Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.

The mask clutters to the ground.

You scream.

He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.

Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.

It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.

You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.

Because the villain is too vile to be loved.

You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.

"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.

"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.

Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.

Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.

Little sister, little princess.

Why is only starting to make sense now?

There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.

"NO"

Yord's body joins the rest.

no no no

"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.

The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."

"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.

The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.

There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.

Baptized in blood

The world flashes red.

It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.

When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.

There is no sympathy here you should know better

"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.

His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.

Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit of a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.

"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.

"My little acolyte"

ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy  @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku

[somewhereincairparavel]

there's just something about reyna being so desperate for a romantic connection after venus tells her that she'll never be loved by a demigod. when she was even willing to date octavian, when she immediately latched on to percy after he arrived at camp, and then, of course, her unrequited feelings for jason.

this is partly why I dislike people blaming jason for "leading her on" because there's absolutely no canon evidence to suggest that reyna was vocal or obvious about her feelings to jason or ever made a move about it. especially considering the venus incident where reyna had begun to avoid him. it would've ironically given jason the opposite impression. it's only mentioned that they shared something special, which could just as easily allude about their close friendship. jason said that he never felt anything romantic towards reyna, they were both pretty restricted when it came to love because they had an image to withhold at camp, they also had this external pressure of being the potential picture perfect couple. he liked sharing roman history knowledge with her as a best friend, they wanted to visit cool historical monuments together, which he appreciated, and he trusted her deeply, but that was all there ever was to it. their connection was dominated by sweet platonicity, in his perspective, atleast.

reyna misinterpreting jason's behaviour as something romantic also makes sense to her character because she wanted to be loved that way. it was reyna's wishful thinking that caused her inevitable heartache and that adds nuance to her character.

reyna had her own faults in the downfall of jason and her's friendship, just like jason did. and that makes them good characters. they both refused to reach out bc of hesitation and it isnt just jason's fault as the fandom claims it to be.

when jason said reyna distanced herself from him and was never quite the same around him after the venus incident?? do people not understand that jason's hesitation to reach out must have stemmed from that?? worried that she'll distance herself again?? or when reyna greeted piper in boo and didn't even take a glance at jason? reyna had too much pain inside of her so she couldn't reach out. and that's okay.

they never ended up clearing the air because of this lingering hesitation, causing reyna to have everlasting guilt after he passed. and that is also okay. they were just kids who cared about eachother but didn't know better.

their relationship is way more complicated and heartbreaking and reducing it to "jason lead her on and broke her heart, he's the real red flag" does injustice to BOTH their characters.

[mountkennedie]

Mint and Maple

Diaval x reader

Summary: you went exploring in the moors one night. You are met with a strange man

warnings: none

A.N. I know this fandom is probably dead, but not to me

Life in the moors were beautiful through and through. You frequented the river most of all, the life blooming there was what you would consider the most beautiful you had ever seen. Especially when the sun had laid down for the evening.

You should be in your home long past asleep like any respectable lady. And yet here you were in the late hours of the night, out for a stroll. No one could say it was unsafe really ever in the moors. Everyone knew to respect others and so that the same respect could be shared back with them. But none were perfect, and those who distinctly stayed from the good intentions of the community were dealt with.

You had seen her before. Maleficent. However, I never approached, simply bowed, and continued on your way. Though disappointed with the prickly wall blocking your world inside the barriers of the moors, you understood their purpose. That "King" Stefan was such a danger do you all, a wall is a reasonable response.

You would sometimes wander near the wall. Never touching it, though, you had been told it was cursed if someone laid a finger on it. Most nights, you would never touch the roots. However, tonight was one you were feeling more adventurous.

The walk to the wall was a difficult one. Many trees and other plants had overgrown on the path, whispers go around that she made the overgrowth. You would counter the argument by a question, "Has anyone actually tried to tame the path?" It ended in silence.

You did make it through the tough greenery and were able to approach the wall of roots. It felt like it grew every time you looked at it. A raven flew down near you. It landed on a branch of the wall and peered at you. You thought, since the raven landed and nothing happened to it, you should be fine. And tonight, there was one branch that looked like it was begging you to reach out and feel its bark. Like anyone would, you caved.

When you reached your arm out, the raven chirped at you. But it did not stop your hand as it reached the bark of the limb. You were flung backward in a flash of green light and hit a tree behind you. The hit wasn't that hard at all, but still ripped the air out of you. After hitting the grassy floor below you, you looked up. It took a moment for you to realize the great pain your hand was in. Your eyes trailed down and saw the gash now painted on the skin.

Looking up, the raven was gone. In its place, a man approached you. He reached forward for your non-wounded hand. You placed yours in his, and he helped you back up. "All you alright, miss?"

"Yes, yes I am," you hid your hand behind your back. He didn't need to see the river of red sprouting from your palm. You bowed your head for a moment, "Thank you, sir." When you turned to leave, you felt a gentle grip on your wrist.

"You are hurt." He turned your hand up, showcasing the fresh wound. Before you could say it was nothing, he was ushering you away. "Let me bind that. You don't want it to grow infected." He led you past some brush of trees. You were trying to memorize the route, knowing you had to come back this way to return home.

"Forgive me," he began, "I haven't asked you your name."

"Call me, Y/n, and yours?"

"Diaval. Y/n is a beautiful name. It suits you."

You were led to a very strange looking tree. Its leaves were very long and curly. It emitted a strange aroma, a mix of mint and maple. The syrup running behind the bark must be very rich, you thought. The tree itself was very tall, as if it had been growing for centuries. But if it had, it makes no sense as to why you seem to be finding it now.

Diaval placed one of his hands on the bark. The tree at first remained in its place, and you wondered what the gesture was for. But then the eyes of the great oak opened and looked down at its disturber.

"Apologies for waking you, good friend. But I need your assistance." He reached for your injured hand. He showed the gash to the gentletree. The tree nodded and extended an arm full of curly leaves to Diaval. He plucked one of a branch, "Thank you."

The tree's attention came to you. You bowed your head and thanked him as well. He returned the gesture and went back to resting. Diaval turned to you and began to really inspect the gash. "Not too deep, that's good."

He took the leaf and began to wrap the would with a gentle hand. The leaf carried the same mint and maple scent of the tree, but not as strong. The smell filling your senses was really calming. After some time, you let your curiosity win. "I didn't see you when I was...um," you trailed off. You probably shouldn't bring up what you were doing at the gate.

"When you were getting too close to the wall," he finished. "Well, I have my ways of blending into the shadows." He smiled gently, so you knew he meant no real harm.

You pursed your lips before continuing. "Yes, that's good to know." You sucked in a breath, "This may sound strange and forgive me if I'm foolish, but... did you see a raven on one of the branches at the gate?"

He smiled in response, "I was aware of a raven, yes."

"Oh good! I didn't understand how it managed to rest on the branch. That was why I decided to try my luck," you chuckled a bit after finishing your confession. He finished wrapping your hand. You could already feel the healing beginning to take place underneath the bandage.

"I believe that raven has some magic capabilities. Or knows someone who does." He hadn't dropped your hand yet. His hands were warm, and you enjoyed them holding yours.

"How is that possible?" Your voice was a bit airy. The subject of magic was always something you wish to expand on. No amount of books or stories could quench your thirst for knowledge of it.

"What isn't possible here?" He responded in the same tone. You smiled at him and shook your head. He was right. The moors still surprised you, even if you've lived here your whole life.

"I should head home. I know my mother would not approve of me being out at this time." You turned to leave. His hand remained on yours. Holding you in place.

"Let me walk you," he said quickly. "I would hate for you to get lost," he said, recovered some composure. He stood next to you and offered his arm. You took him up on his offer, and you both began the walk home. When you both reached the place near the wall, you offered to guide him the rest of the way there. "Thank you, but I believe I know a shorter way," he whispered.

You allowed him to guide you on a different way to your home. Surprisingly, he was right about the shortcut. "I appreciate your kindness."

"And I you," he responded. He faced you, looking deeply into your eyes.

"But all I've done tonight is cause trouble," you nervously smiled.

"You offered a very interesting evening. I don't have those often, especially with a very beautiful woman." You flushed a bit when he complimented you.

"Goodnight, Diaval," you smiled and bowed your head one last time.

"Goodnight, Y/n." He brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on one of your knuckles. "Until we meet again."

After returning to your house, you ran upstairs to your bedroom. The window faced the front, and you knew you'd be able to see him as he left. You were right. His back was turned to you. He seemed to be walking towards someone. In a moment, he was turned into a raven. The same raven you had seen on the branch at the gate.

[tyttamarzh]

Missasinfonia, songs and QSMP…

Hello!! Well, since we all continue to miss Missa, I want to share a little thought.

I don't know if it has already been talked about here, but in the Hispanic fandom of Missa we have his songs very present and some people have not been able to avoid talking about how some of them adapt perfectly to the QSMP.

I want to talk about two in particular whose lyrics I think are perfect for describing Missa's relationship with his family.

The first one is called "Privilegios" (privileges) and I think it describe what Missa is currently going through with Philza. Well, it talks about the anxiety of feeling insufficient for the other and trying to improve but feeling afraid of moving forward (the young Missa from 2014 wrote very deep lyrics). I remember that in a stream he told us about how several of his songs came about and said that he wrote "Privilegios" thinking about us, the people who follow him, because he didn't feel enough for us and is why he always try to do things better. Either way, I think he's perfect for describe his situation with Phil.

The song:

Lyrics

Sometimes I forget my sorrows and things I should do Because ideas slip away, they do not allow us to see Well creating something new means forgetting I would like to be like before and go back to the past

I know how to write the word mature very well But my thoughts don't let me act I don't want to forget, I don't ask for your mercy Because honestly I can fix it.

Chorus I don't know what to do if you're not okay (you're okay!) I don't know whether to lie to me or throw myself at your feet I wonder if I can deserve you Because I didn't earn the privilege.

How can I destroy damn anxiety? If outside my mind is my reality It is not so easy to wish others ill. just so I can free myself

The second song I want to talk about is called "Tarde para el plan B" (Late for Plan B) and I think it could be a message from Missa to Chayanne, some of the things he mentions remind me of what Missa told him in that day of fishing before travel to Japan. He talks about how it's okay to fail and that he shouldn't be overwhelmed by his mistakes, and encourages him to keep going and get better. There is also a phrase that I like to think is very much theirs, since it infers that even if they are not together, he will always see him. Now every time I hear that song I think of them and I can't help it u.u (It's a song created 10 years ago, but I think it's fits perfectly).

The song:

Lyrics

Have you ever wondered�� what could happen if after the years, you could come back to the past? Would you have the chance to see what is wrong the bad memories you would be able to erase.

Enjoy moments you didn't see coming feel from the beginning what you should feel but remorse can cut you and repenting would be the final act

Look for alternatives, see how to improve May you know how to handle your situations You don't always get a second chance. you must take advantage of what time gives you

If they give you their hand, don't take our foot don't ask for the moon when it's barely dawning You don't run when you want to calm down do something your soul can bear

[PRE CHORUS] And it's not that it's bad, it could be worse. What doesn't kill you makes you better.

And listen to me, here I will be, watching your actions wherever you are.

sometimes the reasons chase me but they don't want to catch me Sometimes actions are what will count, but you won't count. I prove that what I say is true It's your problem if you don't want to change but honestly sometimes everyone can fail

In the hope that everything is fine There are ideas within your being that grow and create the bad decision than wanting to correct what has already happened

Do what you need to make you feel better. Defeat your demons, destroy that pain Errors exist to know what someone else could fall into

and it's not that it's bad, it could be worse What doesn't kill you makes you better

listen to me, I will be here watching your actions wherever you are

My favorite phrase from this song is: "don't ask for the moon when it's barely dawning" (I just like how deep it sounds xD)

And that's all for now, I've never created a post here, I hope it's okay. Thanks for reading my crazy thoughts. Greetings!!

[dadattebayo]

So today I bumped on this post and wanted to share some thoughts on the subject, but the account I reblogged it from seems to be off now so I lost my post and no one sees it. Still want to keep it, so...

Sorry, with all respect, but I just don’t get it. Like … WHY should we stop asking them about the thing they actually play? What exactly so bad happens to them if we do? By the thing I mean Haladriel as a ship. They play it. Literally.

Come one, it's obvious the show itself launched the ship. Intentionally, using all classic cinematic tools to make the exact romantic subtext visible to the audience (like gestures, poses, camera angles, looks eyes to eyes, sensual whisper) so we could definitely read it as romantic even if they refuse to confirm it openly. (Due to the possible unhinged reaction of the lorebros, I’m sure) So basically the show implied romance between them from the beginning, and now since they are stepping back, we just have to be ashamed to ask questions? Surely the actors give more interviews then the showrunners, because they are the faces of the characters, their representatives, they could give you the insight no one else could give since they play it and are the most involved in their personalities and emotions. They should be able to explain their motives and thoughts. This is how the acting craft works, they must FEEL the character. This is why for fans, hearing actors discuss a ship is like hearing the characters discuss their own feelings.

See what I mean? Typical romantic cinematic hint.

So again why shouldn't we ask them? why not let the actors talk about their interpretation? Miriel and Elendil's actors shouldn't be asked about them too, or it only concerns Morfydd and Charlie for some reason?

For god sake we all know the ship is doomed, there will be no future, but still the show revolves around them, even in the end of s2 he still mentioned she's his queen. But there was not enough interaction, mostly ambiguous one that we have to explain and develop ourselves, so why should we be deprived as well of their vision and of any extra detail we would like to know from the first hands? | don't feel like it.

And I think people just need to stop decide for the actors how they feel and being overprotective over literally nothing. Shipping is a part of any fan culture. And the actors are not made of glass, they actually are even supposed to speak out. Once again: the show presented and developed the ship. The actors play the characters of this ship. They play the feelings we all see. They are aware of the subtext. They do not feel ashamed to play it. They are not ashamed to play those characters. So we don't have to be ashamed to want to know more about what they play, what they mean and what is their vision on it. There is no harm being caused.

I actually miss good all days when the actors were not considered this sensitive. like for example during the promotion of the X-MEN both Mcavoy and Fassbender got unstoppably asked like million questions about their MAGNETO/XAVIER (Cherik) ship, they were shown fanarts and fanfics, even the explicit ones, they even had to read out loud some about themselves (yeah-yeah, not their characters, but specifically real-person ship aka FassAvoy). No one got offended. One can say they even encouraged it. Homosexual ship. McAvoy was married at that time. Still they were goofing around, touching each other and hugging all the time, talking about their character bromance and generally spreading fanservice all over the fandom. They were having fun alongside with the fans. This was gold.

By the way the same story with their characters: they are a protagonist and a villain , two opposites with sort of cosmic connection, they just won’t let each other go peacefully. There is love, hate, friendship, rivalry and pain. Some fans see them as a friends/foes, shippers like me see them as lovers. This ship is giant, and thank for the actors interaction and involvement into the fandom it just got deeper and much more exciting.

Highly recommended to explore.

Remind you of something? 🙃

[coolcatatajazzclub]

Luke Skywalkers Warmth and Light and why he's important in Star Wars

HE NEEDS MORE APPRECIATION!

I feel like these days in the Star Wars Fandom Luke Skywalker is not appreciated enough. But there is so much more that needs to be said about him, and I have a few words of my own to share.

Luke Skywalker is a breath of fresh air after all that transpired during the prequel movies/The Clone Wars, as he manages to bring a ray of light in the cold merciless dark that the empire had brought to the Galaxy after the Clone Wars ended.

We experienced Anakin losing Everything, his wife, "his kids", his life as a jedi mentor, and life as a general, his physical and mental health, and even his own name/identity. There was nothing left for him. The name of Anakin Skywalker represented a past that could never be revived, so to must Anakin remain dead.

But then Luke shows up abord the Empire ship and let's Vader know I'm not here to turn to your empire as a servant but instead as your son, the son of Anakin Skywalker. If you can't accept yourself as Anakin Skywalker my father, then your no father of mine at all. He in turn as Vader had done to him the previous movie offers Vader an ultimatum, but instead of towards darkness it's a choice that leads towards light. And Luke offers this choice with a hand outstretched, a hand willing to hold yours with compassion sympathy and unconditional love. The one thing Padme offers Vader before she dies.

This scene is very intimate as it is about Vader saving the galaxy just so he could save his son. Dying not as Vader but as a father.

Luke doesn't just reach his hand out to Vader but also to Obi Wan Kenobi himself. Though when Luke meets Obi Wan, he's not the man we see in the Prequels, instead he is a shell of what he once was, the shell now empty filled with sand, and decay.

Obi Wan is too a relic of the past. The Jedi warrior for the Republic he loved so dearly, the master of Anakin Skywalker his pride and glory, and the friend of so many Jedi now buried in dirt and ashes. Obi Wan is dead along with the past now in Ruins, fractured and broken.

But Luke addresses him not as "Old Ben" or Ben Kenobi, but by Obi Wan Kenobi. The name of the past once forgotten now brought to life by its recognition. Luke brought the light of the past back to Obi Wan by reminding him of his father's companionship (And he was a good friend), and the similarities Luke shares to Anakin only furthers this bittersweet nostalgia. Bringing back the compassion Obi wan felt towards Anakin, and a smile back to his withered face.

And finally, for the Targruta girl herself Ahsoka Tano.

Once the Jedi Padawan of the Galaxy's prized hero Anakin Skywalker, a friend and victim to so many jedi, and a Commander of the 501st. But after the war Ahsoka no longer remains instead now Fulcrum, secret informant of the Rebellion. We even see her have to change her name in Tales of the Jedi, so as to not be hunted down by the empire. She too lost it all, but she still had herself to offer to the world and all that was remaining inside her heart. Her compassion.

She cant show compassion as Ashoka but she can as Fulcrum, continuing to play her part in the Rebellion even after all the confusion and chaos that has endlessly barraged into her life.

Though the pain of realization of Anakin's turn, and the guilt of not being there for him, her unspoken words of compassion and understanding that could have pulled Anakin from the dark could now never be said. Instead all she can offer Anakin is the death of the monster that has taken his place.

And so after all of the pain Luke offers his hand to Ahsoka and with that a familiarity of Anakin, something that Ahsoka can see light in, and with Luke telling of the light he saw and brought out of his father allowing Ahsoka to let go of Darth Vader and Remember like Obi Wan had the light that Anakin had to offer.

Ahsoka looks so happy around Luke, I bet she offers Luke the same smile she gave Anakin

Luke brings warmth and comfort to my heart in a world full of cruelty. He is the light in the dark, the stars we look up at in the Dark sky, and the hope that tomorrow brings.

To say goodbye, I would like to add a quote that summarized Luke Skywalkers best.

Both scenes show Luke and Tenma pillars of light in their respective worlds, upholding a broken person, being their light and warmth. Despite being surrounded by darkness, they give them hope for a better tomorrow.

[call-me-copycat]

Michi…. Shinsou’s hero name… how are we feeling?? It’s okay but def not what I expected 😭

Leaks for those unaware:

Ok, being a huge MHA fan once I saw an update about Shinso I nearly cried on instinct but now some time has passed I'm able to think about it more

It doesn't seem too bad for a hero name? There's worse after all: Tail Man, Sugar Man, Invisible Girl, Grape Juice, etc

Still, I like to think we as a fandom have grown close to the conjectured name MindJack for him so it's certainly a little unfamiliar

That being said, while I do wish his hero name had something to do a little more with his quirk, I do like the name NightHide (it's cheesy but so are most of the Hero names - look at All Might's!)

It fits the same pattern Horikoshi goes through when he's made most of the other Hero names, which I like because it fits Shinso in just a little more (so nice seeing him not sticking out anymore but now a part of the group)

It also makes sense in hindsight that his hero name doesn't allude to his quirk because the whole point of his quirk is depending on others not knowing what it is

That's why I'm a little confused that he seems to be a Pro Hero instead of an Underground Hero? I feel that with a quirk like his he might be better suited for the Underground life (most would speculate based on his similarities to Aizawa after all)

Maybe he wanted to forge his own path? Maybe he just likes being part of the group? Aizawa only really had Hizashi and Nemuri growing as a hero, so he might've been better suited for the loneliness that came with being an underground hero. Shinso throughout the series seems to always be surrounded by people, so he's probably more used to it than solitude like Aizawa (just speculation)

That being said I definitely liked the Shinso cameo, it made my day (because most of the leaks seemed to bring lots of pain to me ૮( ̳ т ̫ т ̳ )ა)

I might share the rest of the leaks I got from Twitter actually, this is very exciting for me (very exhausting too)

That being said, look at him in the back!

I really hope he kept his original Hero outfit we saw in the anime because I thought that looked fantastic, so that's why I'm a little worried about people talking about how his outfit looks more like Aizawa's (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

As much as I like the Aizawa - Shinso dynamic, I want to see Shinso grow! I want to see him carve out his own path in life!

I'm always happy to get Shinso content at this point so I can't be too picky, that being said it's not a bad name at all! (´∇｀)

Edit:

I feel the need to point out in Japanese it'll sound a little different than when it's spoken in English

In English, "Night" and "Hide" sound a little similar, only due to the middle "I"

In Japanese, "Night" will be said similar to "Nai-to" (high to low pitch) and hide will be "hai-do" (since this is also high to low pitch, the D is sharper and sounds similar to the T in "to" in "Nai-to")

It just sounds a little more uniform in Japanese, so I kind of understand why more people are put off by it in standard English

It's an okay name, not bad, and I think it actually fits Horikoshi's habits when it comes to Hero names -⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠-

"SunEater"

"EraserHead"

"All Might"

"Red Riot"

"BackDraft"

Combining 2 English words into 1 typically (obviously with exceptions like "Ingenium" or "Tsukuyomi")

"EdgeShot"

"Loud Cloud"

Overall he's just one to come up with quick, cheesy, partial English names for his characters - I think we've gotten so used to calling these people by their hero names that we forget how odd they must sound to outsiders (I remember thinking "Eraserhead" was a weird name for awhile as a kid actually) (⁠๑⁠¯⁠◡⁠¯⁠๑⁠)

[nuumbie]

BRIGHT STAR

Prompt: And so live—ever or else swoon to death. Dain, what does that strand of hair mean to you? Someone you must kill? Or an object of your penitence?

Author’s Note: The Road Not Taken Trailer stuck with me. Abyss Prince/Princess ! Reader. Something overtook me while writing this… I wrote this so I’ve officially have proof of writing for all three fandoms this blog writes for… but at what cost… ( my sanity )

Trigger Warnings: Depression and not being mentally good is pretty heavy handed, the idea of “missing” someone, grief and loss, just generally upsetting mental concepts. And of course. Genshin Spoilers…

Codependency, babes!

Cursed to live as an immortal. His life no longer belonged to only him. For every life which could no longer speak. He would live in their place. Until his body had decayed. Until he could no longer move. Until he had lost all vigor and passion to try.

That day would never come. Even now. He’s never lost focus from his dream.

When he meets you all he's managed to save is the sky.

The sky to the world which has taken everything from him. He wondered if his brethren would be happy to continue the shared existence of this world even after they’re gone. To care for the soil which they once lived. The same world that had taken everything from him was once his home. For every beauty, there was a sadness. He was still preserving its existence. Because. If he hadn’t there would be nothing left of him.

Yes, he was a traveler back then — directionless and without a purpose. Without meaning. A wanderer without a home to return to. Only memories.

Such different lives. Yet you met at the same road at the same time. Khaenri'a Land. He remembers the destruction, the screaming, all the lives lost while he watched helpless.

You share those memories. Why was it. That fate chose to let you both live? Was it destiny’s cruel game? That you both found yourselves in the same world with the same matching wounds.

He wonders when you changed paths?

The world moves on while you both stand there. Firmly rooted in that place and time. Perhaps, he could have stayed there forever.

He remembers— you’re the one who broke the silence. The memory grows farther and farther. But his time with you is something he’s yet to let go. He holds onto it. The memory is similar. It brings him comfort and pain. That’s why it’s meaningful.

“The Gods.” you walk next to him, you’ve already seen to found your answer as you tilt your head up towards him. You’re the first pair of eyes in a long time who’s peered into him to acknowledge his existence. To stare at him. To see him. He hasn’t communicated in awhile. He can’t remember how long. So, it’s somewhat affirming to have someone stare at him. To see him. “Are the worst.”

He stares out at the fallen rubble before meeting your gaze. There’s a burning light behind your eyes. Something that rivals the force of the sky. “They are.”

“The Gods look down at the people all the same, yet they meddle with their lives and twist them so.” you laugh. “It’s just not fair. Why is it out of my control?”

Dainsleif’s eyes catch the bodies underneath the rubble, crushed fingers grasping for things they’ll never reach. “It’s not fair. You’re right.”

“Hey, you’re traveling too, right? I know you are.” You glance over the fallen wreckage as if that’s proof enough that he’s lost. “I’m a traveler too… I’m looking for my sibling.”

He can hear the yearning in your tone. You have faith unlike him. You still have a chance.

Your voice says you believe that so firmly with all of your heart. Dainsleif glances at the gathered proof there’s nothing left for him at his feet.

“…”

“Come with me.” You finally say. “Travel with me.”

“Why?”

“I’m lonely.” Is your only reply. You don’t look at him. A life-long regret. He’ll never have gotten to known what you were thinking.“You seemed lonely, too.”

Did he?

He hadn’t noticed. He hasn’t seen his own face in a long time. At that time — it felt so simple. There wasn’t truly any deep, meaningful, reason to accept your request. He could have easily parted ways there. What difference would that have made on your journey?

But… perhaps he was lonely. For he had so far to walk. And he had nothing else to do but to live.

“500 mora.”

“Huh?” You squint your eyes somewhat baffled by how quick of a response he shoots ought. “I— that’s too cheap. Why? Is this a weekly payment or something?”

“In a way it is.” He sighs while turning his back and already beginning to walk. “500 mora every week.”

“It should around as much money needed to buy the ingredients for sticky honey roast.”

You give him the stink eye.

But you’re lonely enough to begrudgingly take the mora out into his hands. You make a point to showcase your discontent as you scrounge through your wallet. You don’t have very much money on you at all.

But you pay the fare so you both go on a journey.

People change lives. You’ve changed the impact of his.

-

Your first stop is Mondstadt. He’s buying the ingredients for tonight’s dinner. He has a bit extra change to spare. Mondstadt’s prices are cheap.

It’ll get harder to save when you reach the other nations. So, it’s better to save up now.

He realizes you’ve escaped his side a little too late. He looks around— when he isn’t looking you’re already a distance away from him. Even though you’re the one who asked him to walk this path with you. You’re always walking ahead or too far behind.

You’re staring at the Mondstadt Fountain. In hindsight. It’s a very pretty fountain. Simple but effective. But you’re staring at the water a bit too closely. He walks up from behind you and stares at his own reflection which looks back at him. You’re rather enamored by your own face.

You both do look strange in comparison to the locals. People have been giving you both odd-stares. He makes a face at the water and tries to smile.

He doesn’t look very accommodating nor welcoming at all. His smile drops rather quickly when it looks strange on his face. Unnatural.

Dainsleif is secretly glad that your eyes are always directed everywhere but him.

Glancing towards you. You don’t look at the water like it’s a reflection of yourself but someone else looking back at you.

You finally notice his staring though it’s far too late. You jump up a little — but you pretend like you weren’t so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed him sneak up on you. Like always. He doesn’t tell you he knows. You’ve fallen into a pattern like that.

“Do you have a coin?” You glance at him and try to change topics quickly while holding out your palm. “Dain.“

“Ah.” He looks at you and blinks as he realizes what’s going through your head. Though, he wonders if it’s something else. You were staring at your own face. “Oh… that is a Mondstadt Custom. Making wishes… I see. Are you curious? Then…”

He takes out the coin. The leftovers. It’s a meaningless gesture. But, you stare at him like it’s what matters most in this world. So he indulges in you.

The borough keeper does not have anything to wish for. He realizes rather quickly. He glances down at the coin in all its glory. And there is nothing in the world he can realistically get that he truly wants.

His hand grows a little shaky at that thought. Nothing to wish for. So he instead directs it towards you and drops it into the palms of your hand like it’s precious.

“You should do it, then.” His voice is impassive as usual. “You’re the one who has a wish. So, why should I?”

Somewhat dumbly you take the coin in your shaky palms as he gives it to you. “Huh? Seriously…?”

“Fine… I guess I will then…”

You think— it doesn’t take that long. The coin hits the water with a somewhat disappointing ‘thump’.

Not nearly as long. You’ve already have your mind up. You glance at the water. “I’ll have to make it come true myself in the end. I’m still going to work as hard.”

“Then, what’s the point of the wish?” Dainsleif asks.

“It’s insurance.” You sigh. “It’s comforting. You seriously have no trace of romance in your heart.”

“What did you wish for?” Dainsleif looks at the coin sunken at the bottom of the fountain. ( It will be gone when he comes back to reflect on the memories. A world which people resort to stealing wish money from wells. )

“If I say it then it won’t come true. You’re meant to keep it a secret, Dain. That’s how wishes work.”

Is that so?

He knows what you wished for. But he doesn’t say it.

Some things are better kept never never said.

-

He's growing older.

You travel to a Liyuan Village, Quingce. It's the perfect day. You’ve both arrived at perfect timing. They’re holding a small festival to celebrate the living at the time with bright lights and fireworks in the sky. Momentous and bright.

The joy they experience is vibrant. Savory smells wafting through the hair. A memory which will be long-lived in each villager’s mind. In comparison. The both of you stand out. Throughout the laughter, the joy, you both sit there in relative silence alone together. Two unhappy people painted against a happy scene.

The sky being dyed in such unnatural colors reminds him of the day the sky was bathed red. Do you see the same sky as him when you stare up at such flashing lights, too?

You're whispering. Do you expect him not to hear? The sound of the fireworks is loud. Each with a loud snapping pop. He wouldn't expect you to be paying attention to him instead of the loud bursts of flashing lights. So he assumes you’d have the same line of thought. Somehow, Dainsleif’s eyes always find his way to you.

"We don't belong in this world." Are the words that leave your mouth. He doesn't respond. You repeat it quieter. "We don't belong here."

You’re looking at the children who dance among the bright stars together. He notices a pair of children holding the other’s hand tightly.

You’re curled up in fetal position. Your knees pressed against your chest. It looks painful.

l. You stand at a ten foot distance to him.

You don’t say anything else and continue to watch the fireworks. Not once does a smile ever cross your face.

When you walk back to your hotel room your voice is weak and you’re clutching tightly to your own shirt.

“Dain.” You make conversation. “Do you think we could be happy?”

He doesn’t know.

“There’s still a long way ahead. Don’t lose hope.”

“I know I can’t.” You sigh. “I know that.”

“It’s just hard sometimes.” You look outside your fingers brushing against the glass of the window against the painted sky and the people packing up. “They don’t know a thing.”

“It’s just unfair.” You laugh. “Why can’t I live like that?”

“But that’s how it is.”

“…”

There’s a silence which lasts only a little. It seems you don’t wish to continue down this line of thought. You give.

“Guess so.” Your eyes meet his and you smile sheepishly. “I’m glad I know you. I’m not alone.”

But you are. That’s why you asked. Because you felt there was nobody who could understand.

And, perhaps, he still doesn’t know you either. No. He’s sure he doesn’t.

When you bring a topic up. It’s very likely you never bring it up again.

He doesn’t usher it out of you. The next morning you wave the children and all the adults goodbye wishing them happy lives. They’re kind and wish him and you both the very same.

They’re younger than you both yet you’ll both grow to outlive them. You’re fundamentally different. He will never be able to understand them.

Dainsleif presumes that’s the same case with the two of you as well.

-

In Inazuma you take a quick resting stop before you reach the grand island You plan on camping that night among the dangerous but beautiful land. You seem enraptured that night. You’ve gone into the slow flowing river. It seemed clear. So he hadn’t stopped you from dipping your feet.

You reach your hands towards the bright sky and the stars above.

You’re in a far off place. He wonders if he could reach you if he had actually tried.

He doesn’t bother.

Dainsleif sits there and watches your distant figure watch the stars.

He watches after you. Some days. Just bystander in your life.

You stay like that for awhile before you finally return to him. You’re holding your shoes in your hand— you drop them before awkwardly plopping yourself next to him.

“They told me if I was ever lost. All I needed to do was look up to the stars because we’d be looking up at the same sky.”

"I wonder what they'd think if they saw it. The stars are beautiful here. Even though the sky itself is the cause of all my problems. I still love the stars. This place won’t ruin it for me.”

“Dain, what do you think?”

You’re not really asking him.

“It’s nice.” He responds. “I think they’re beautiful, too.”

You rarely talk about yourself he notices. You rarely think about yourself. About this sibling he doesn’t know. About their interests and likes.

“Do you like it?” He asks gentler than he intends.

“I do. But it hurts. Does that make sense, Dain?”

“It does.” He replies and he hopes that gives you some ounce of peace.

You smile a little. He wishes it could last.

You’re someplace far away. He looks down at you and making a move for the first time he offers you his hand.

You take it and fall asleep against his shoulder.

He clings to your warmth and holds you closely thinking little of it.

When he wakes up you’re already gone.

You revert back to your normal and neither of you bring it up. But even if it’s left unspoken.

It’s already been said.

-

In Sumeru while exploring the wilderness you’ve sunken to your knees. The sight of something has caught your attention.

It's rare to see you stray from your goal.

You gaze down at the white flowers for a few seconds. Most often your eyes dance around but you keep walking forward. It's very rare that something strikes you enough to linger on. To hold still for just a moment in time.

It's rare that you let anything hold you back. Each nation. You grow a little faster. A little more distant. A little ahead.

You glance up at him wordlessly as you go to kneel to clutch the flower between your palms, it's rare that you do things just like this. Ask him to speak up on the matter and info-dump so you can understand the world better. It's the little conversation you both have.

“Dain, what is this?”

"It's a flower native to Kharenri'ah." His heart winces a little at the word. It appears that the wound has not mended itself. It won't ever. He's made peace with that. He merely wonders when he'll learn to live with that truth. "It's called the Intreyvat. It has 2-weeks before it wilts. It's aligned with elemental energy as for why it glows. Elemental Energy isn't edible nor does it taste very good for those who've tried it. So please do not eat it."

You don't respond. So he continues with other facts assuming you're not satisfied. "It's called the wanderer's flower for it's properties which--"

"I'm not going to eat it, idiot. I'm not insane to eat flowers. You're my emergency food rations." Contradiction. He thinks that cannibalism is more insane than eating flora. But, he chocks it up to either sarcasm or a testament to your oddities. It's likely the former. Your face warmed up. Embarrassed that he’d even imply it. Melanin rushing straight to your face to the tips of your ears. you whisper, hushed, as you cradle the flower delicately in your hands. Like it can hear your argument. It can't. It’s not alive in that sense. a fact he would point out. But he knows it’s not the time for that. He opts for silence as he usually does. "They just grew these back home. My actual home. Before it got destroyed."

You have a deep longing in your eyes. All-consuming devotion. "Some things remain constant through different worlds. There's likely another you somewhere on one of the many worlds that exist."

"I saw these with my sibling when I first arrived at Teyvat. The flower were the first thing we saw. A field of them." you churn out. your grip on the flower grows tighter. it's petals crush beneath your fingers at how tight you hold it. you don't seem to notice. " All things meet similar fates. So, of course these flowers were meant to fade away in this world too."

"It’s okay. These aren’t actually my homeland’s flowers. It’s not mine.” You laugh as you let go of the flower. leaving the crushed white petals lay dirtily discarded on the floor. "It was never mine. But the sight of it regardless bought me joy."

It's left in the dirt. You stand on wobbly knees. He thinks to mention it but you have enough to worry about already.

Dainsleif knows it’s better not to linger as well. So he chases after you. At some point it changed from him walking meaninglessly.

He drifts after your footsteps. Behind you.

-

You’re always changing. Slowly, bit by bit, the person he met so long ago becomes a stranger distant in his mind. The current you is just as much of a puzzle.

Time is passing. He doesn’t keep track of how many days that have gone by. Some days blur.

When you’re at Fontaine you finally let yourself break.

It would explain why you finally go mad. The process of traveling place to place without ever stopping.

It must have been draining.

His hand curls around your face as you lay at your camp. You’re both doing an odd-job for money to travel so often from place to place.

You’ve both finished killing another hilichurl camp which stood in the way. Wiping the splattered blood from your cheek. Too little distance but you don’t seem to mind how close he is. “Is it yours or theirs?”

You don’t answer. Which does nothing to ease his worries. He goes to wipe the rest of the blood to see if you have any injuries. This isn’t like either of you. To dote on another like this. These moments are sparse few and far between in your own words until you’re at a certain breaking point — nothing more than travel companions until you need someone to catch you before you fall. That’s why you called for him.

Because you were alone. Because he was alone.

It’s transactional.

It should be, anyway. You tremble and bite your lip hard enough that it bleeds. What you have feels heavier than that.

“I don’t want to ever kill another hilichurl again.”

Ah.

“We’ll never have to kill another one again.” He tries to soothe you. “We can stop taking requests like this.”

It must be bad. You’re holding still. Barely reacting to the feather-light touch. He squeezes your face.

You react at that. Your eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He lets go once he sees that’s enough to rouse you out of your own head.

“We should take a break.” He finally says. “We haven’t had one in awhile-“

“I don’t want to stop.” You reply back. “It gets worse when we stop.”

You‘ve been tired for a long time.

Wiping the rest of the blood on his cape. He doesn’t struggle. But that doesn’t mean he’s entirely indifferent to the process. But he never struggles against you. So he doesn’t even budge. He just looks at you with that prey animal stare reserved for only you. “Ah.”

“My cape.” He holds the tassel and flops it around. As subdued and subpar as it is. “Isn’t a napkin.”

“We’re both dirty, now.” That brings an odd joy he’ll have to worry about later because those words are not happy. They’re sad. You should both be clean. But, there’s a certain joy to sharing your lows. You ramble as you use it to wipe your tears away as well. “Now we both need showers and…”

“…”

“Dain.” You ask quietly. “Why do you stay with me?”

Oh.

You’re not yourself. You’ll regret this conversation and feel nothing but regret about it later. He comforts you now and answers regardless because he would regret leaving you unanswered now even more.

“I care about you even if it doesn’t seem that way at times.”

You stare at him like his words are hard to believe. Your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Is it so hard to believe he cares after you’ve spent so long together? He can see the thoughts racing behind your eyes. But, what you settle on is— “You’re so stupid.”

You don’t seem entirely unhappy with his answer despite the words that you say considering you’re laughing. It’s an oddly sad laugh. A laugh which threatens on a sob.

He tries to ignore the pink color that rises to his cheeks.

“So stupid.” You cry a little harder and hug him. He caresses you and lets you cry into his chest.

He knows you wish someone else could hold you.

It isn’t the same nor will it ever live up to the real thing. But you always pretend.

-

You both never kill a Hilichurl again.

He does his best to avoid them on the roads. Whenever you see one a deep sadness falls over you. So he does his best to stifle that grief and ease that burden by avoiding every chance he has.

You haven’t asked as much questions lately since arriving at Natlan. You’ve quit speaking entirely at some points in time. Some days he wonders if you’ve forgotten to speak at all.

The light behind your eyes is a distant memory.

“Dain?”

“Why do you travel at all?”

He stares at you through a mouthful of mushroom-chicken skewers that he’s cooked. They’re burnt. He’s not very good of a cook.

You’ve never asked before. You’ve asked all sorts of questions. But never that.

“It was sort of implied at the fountain that you didn’t know… I remembered and got curious… so I asked.l

“Did you figure it out, Dain?”

…

Maybe he did.

He thinks about keeping it to himself. Holding on to that answer just this once. You’ve done the same to him.

But maybe it’s something worth saying.

No, maybe it’s something…

He just wants to admit. To say out loud. Just once.

Even though he knows you know.

“I want to see your journey to its end.”

You instantaneously groan like he’s said something embarrassing.

“I’d thought you’d answer that.” You pout with crossed arms. “When did you grow so obsessed with me?”

He doesn’t know himself. He doesn’t know why or how. He doesn’t know if he should.

“You should live for yourself.” Hypocrite. “Beyond Khaenri'ah and beyond me.”

Dainsleif sighs and…

He continues letting his judgement not get the better of him.

“I really like you.”

Time stops.

He’s a little surprised the words actually came out of his mouth. But they did.

He can’t take it back now that it’s been said. That’s how it works.

“Huh?”

He could pretend that his words had a different meaning. He could create some lie. And you would just eat it up.

But he chooses not to. Why is that?

“I like you. That’s why I wish to see it through with you. I wish to see you happy. Typically. You wish to be with the people you like happy.” He repeats. Louder. So you can’t misinterpret it or pretend you’ve heard him wrong, He chews on the mushroom skewer. Feeling his face heat up. Some days. He wished his mask covered the entirety of his face. It feels like he’s gone as crimson as the moon.

He feigns how okay he is with these words leaving his mouth. Pretends like he isn’t pouring a deep part of himself out to you. “Don’t mind where. I just wish to be by your side.”

“You’ve been my reason for awhile now.“

And he continues. A little too much. He realizes. He stops and looks at you to use as measure for how much he’s talked.

Quite a lot. You stare at him in abject horror.

“I— don’t repeat it!” You yell and look around like somebody can hear you both. There’s nobody for miles. In the end. It’s always you both alone. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You asked.” Dainsleif points out and bites down on the shame. “I answered.”

“..-!?”

“It wouldn’t work.” You stumble. “You and me—“

“It doesn’t have to be as lovers. My… current goal… the… reason I’m traveling with you… what I want most is just… to see you be okay.“

“Your terminology was confusing! It’s not my fault—“

“But if you want to entertain the idea… of… us being partners and such. I wouldn’t mind traveling with you. To see other worlds. If you could bring me.” He can’t bear to look at you. “Though, I have a task as a Borough Keeper… I…”

“You wish for me to live for myself. Is that not proof I am? Willing to find a reason to live past that role?”

“T-Travel with me…” the room grows hotter. “Wait, that’s not the point!”

“It still doesn’t work!” You yelp. “Just…”

“…”

“Maybe at the end of the road when I reunite with my...” You mumble. “I… no…”

“No… I don’t think… you… we should.”

…

“We shouldn’t.”

You don’t explain why.

Dainsleif flushes… and looks away. Understanding. He tries to be understanding.

Even if he’s not very good at it. Understanding other people. He tries to emphasize and nods his head.

“I understand… I told you. I just… wish for your happiness.”

“You shouldn’t.“

…

And you don’t elaborate. You never really do.

He doesn’t understand how bad it gets until it’s too late.

-

Because you were right.

Thinking about it now, it was an omen, a warning more than anything. You likely should have thrown him loose a long time ago.

Did you not think about that? Or was it now when everything’s finally proved that this was where your path must lead? Were you hoping that there was another option?

Was this your last choice?

Well, it’s already history. You must have known that. That’s why you were so insistent on it. To limit the heart-ache. The tragedy. If you held on even tighter. Then the pain of separation would hurt even more.

You should have never offered your hand to him at all then. But it was this journey it was knowing which made you into this, wasn’t it?

He was there to witness your unraveling. And he didn’t do a thing to stop it. He allowed it.

The sword has pierced through his stomach and severed through. He’ll survive. That’s what he was cursed to do. To eternally live and grieve until there was nothing left to lose. You know that. You aren’t actually trying to kill him. You’re sparing him and leaving him to live with this loss. And that’s even more painful.

There’s no light in your eyes. You’ve chosen the road ahead. It’s a road you cannot travel back from. You will destroy everything. And you will repeat the endless cycle of bloodshed. And then you will most likely die against the weight of the heavenly principles.

This is the second time his reason for living was entirely stolen. How fun. How grand. How sick. But he should have known, too. Even if you’re immortal as well—

The things he loved were bound to get torn from him. His life will forever be a game of give and take.

“There’s nothing else.” You glance out into the darkness. “For me to see. I’ve seen it all. And it’s driven me mad.”

“I understand now. You don’t have to follow me anymore. You’ve done your job of seeing me through to the end. And I thank you for that. You’ve been a good guide. I’ve cherished this time together.”

Like this isn’t it. As if you aren’t severing your paths entirely. You dig the sword deeply into his stomach like you’re cutting whatever has connected you both all this time to each other.

But it did matter. Everything mattered. It mattered so much to the point where you’ve come down to this. He holds the sword and tries to push it out.

You’ve detached. When was it when you pulled yourself away from him entirely? He never noticed the gap between you had grown as deep as the abyss.

“Dain.”

“You’re not joining me are you?”

“I’m not.” He responds from the floor. He chokes on his own blood. It isn’t the first. Nor will it be the last time. He can see his future from here. Because life refuses to let him live languid life. He could never agree with the tragedy you intend to cause. The world you wish to ruin— still belongs to him. “You’re right. I can’t agree. I could never agree.”

And more than that, you’re likening yourself to a monster. This path. Paved in blood. If you walk it you will be no better than them. You’re making a mistake. You’re so much more than this. And he knows. Because he was there for you for so long.

“If this is the path you plan to take. I will oppose for eternity.” He spits.

For some reason that gets you to share with him a rare smile.

The way you smile at him then still haunts his dreams.

“I knew you could do it.”

It is your hands which he trusted so which push him and led to his fall. The hands which he had done his best to have lovingly hold. It is his first betrayal.

And yet he still tries to have faith.

Your paths diverge…

But regardless of that.

You’re not out of reach.

He can still save you he thinks with grasping hands.

Is this how you’ve felt all this time? With a flickering inch of hope? Given so little yet still believing in that faint chance of reunion?

He’ll force your paths back together himself.

-

Mondstadt.

He’s begun to try to count the time.

He just measures it against the day which took everything.

500 years.

He's come here before. The bar called Dawn Winery’s-- it's peaceful in comparison to the other worlds. Though so dreadfully close to Celestia. You’re close. He knows you are. Thus why he’s here to begin with.

The bartender has changed again since he was last here. He’s witnessed many faces since that time so long ago. He almost got mistaken. It seems it’s the previous incarnation’s son? He wears his father's skin, has his bright crimson hair, the only thing lacking is the life in his eyes. He must not be have taken the loss well.

Dainsleif's taste buds have faded with time. But the wine goes down as easily as he remembers. He relies on his sight to enjoy it. It’s changed over the years. The bottle itself. The liquid’s color isn’t as he remembers and it never is the same—

Footsteps.

A familiar voice.

He can feel time pause.

“Hi… I’m an adventurer from the adventure’s guild!”

He doesn’t respond.

The voice is insistent despite him clearly ignoring them.

“How do you do… I’m an honorary member of the Knights of Favonius!”

If he turns around, if he wants so deeply, then it feels as if it’ll be even farther. If the very act of wanting will make it so Celestia tears it away from him.

But the voice continues. A different one. There’s another. There’s two?

“Wow… he has no intention of paying us any mind.”

“So… uh… I’m a traveler.”

Two people, one pair of footsteps. This isn’t an ordinary person.

…

Dainsleif doesn’t look back but he repeats a question. A question from a long time ago.

“A traveler you say. Why do you travel?”

He can feel the awkward smile tugging on the other party’s lips. There’s a light. Unending. Unendurable.

“Well… looking for my lost relative… could it be possible that you’ve seen them?”

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina -

First, I want to thank you for being so open and offering a space to those of us who somehow found ourselves in this fandom but don’t have any fandom friends. It’s been very helpful the past few days. Thank you.

Second, to your other anon who was facing judgement for crying over someone they didn’t know - I’ve been right there with you. I’m a newer fan and his solo music wasn’t really my cup of tea, but I’ve been bawling like a distressed infant for two days now. I called my best friend last night, finally, and was like “why is this affecting me so much?” and I’d like to share with you what she said to me - be grateful that your heart is so big that you can hold space for complete strangers and care enough about them to mourn them or to feel deeply for the people they left behind. Be proud of that positive quality you have. I hope these words can help anyone else in this boat right now.

I have also felt so bad for all the fans that have been here for years, and my heart goes out to all of you Gina. It’s been a sad few days but I’ve been so grateful I can come here and at least mourn through a screen with others. My thanks to you and all of the other vets in this fandom for setting the bar for how this community rallies together in times like these.

Lastly, I agree with you about people wanting to judge how anyone who was close to Liam is grieving. Nobody owes us a performance of their grief on social media. Not his family, his girlfriend, or any of his band mates. So sad to live in a world where everything has to be a performance.

Take good care Gina, and thank you again.

That's a very good friend you have there. They're right. Grieving means you are capable of loving and you have empathy for others who loved and lost someone.

My sadness over Liam is partly for myself---he wrote songs that were so meaningful to me, and he was in a band that made such a difference in my life, and now that's gone. But I think it is more about imagining the pain of those who knew and loved the real Liam, not just the public image and the imagined idea of who he was. My thoughts keep drifting to the other four boys and how devastated they must be. I keep thinking about Liam's family, his last girlfriend, his son... it's all just tragic and unfair. And truly, so much of my sadness is the worry that he died alone, feeling unloved and misunderstood, and I fucking hate everything about that.

Thank you for your sweet note. Take good care of yourself. 🌸

[rynnthefangirl]

https://www.tumblr.com/very-straight-blog/760265762145452032/i-decided-to-summarize-all-the-statements-about?source=share

I didn't read the book, so all these things were really just rumors?

Yes, this post is accurate. Aegon is a rapist in the show, but in the book we don’t know. A strange thing about this fandom is the way that the book and show canon are blended together, with some things from the show being taken as defining aspects of a character despite them not being explicitly true in the book (or even being directly contradictory to the book). Other examples include Alicent being a child bride and Aemond being a bully victim. That being said, Aegon being a rapist is a pretty reasonable jump to make, given that he was known to sexually harass serving girls. So Team Black will frequently call Aegon a rapist because it is canon in the show and consistent with both his show and book characterizations. The other points are all accurate, there are some nasty rumors about Aegon, but nothing confirmed.

*Getting into spoilers now if you don’t know the later events of the book*

No worries though, Aegon is still very much a piece of shit in the book! In truth, him being a rapist is pretty far down on my list of reasons why I hate him. There are plenty of other things in the book to despise Aegon for! Usurping the throne, celebrating Luke’s murder by throwing a feast, murdering all the rat catchers in the red keep, traumatizing his 10 year old nephew and then ordering him to be mutilated, etc). I think the death of Maester Gerardys is a good demonstration of book!Aegons cruelty:

Mind you, this was not an enemy combatant or Lord, this was a maester who was only doing his job (and seemed to have been a pretty good dude, he defended Addam and Nettles from Rhaenyra’s suspicions and offered Aegon II milk of the poppy to ease his pain after Moondancer burned him). Aegon could have simply had him imprisoned or beheaded. Instead he gave him a sadistic and torturous death for really no other reason than just to be cruel. Idk to me that is as bad an act as raping Dyanna was in the show.

Despite being accurate, the original post just rubs me the wrong way. Pointing out that Dyanna was the only known instance of show Aegon raping someone? 1. As if him being a rapist isn’t so bad if he only did it once. 2. Aegon doesn’t even seem to see his actions as wrong in the show, to him it was just harmless fun. Am I really expected to believe that is the one and only time a spoiled and lustful Prince like Aegon decided to have “fun” with one of the serving girls?

Also framing this as a “Team Black” issue, as if Team Green isn’t constantly misrepresenting stuff from the book to fit their narrative. There are many of examples of this, but my two favorites:

1. “Rhaenyra saw herself as the exception to women ruling and robbed other women of their inheritance to give to their brothers”

- In reference to the Rosby and Stokeworth situation. This is blatantly false, Rosby and Stokeworth’s daughters were never their fathers’ heirs. It was Corlys who called Rhaenyra’s situation an exception, not because she is special and different than other women, but because her father named her heir. Rhaenyra’s whole succession ideology is based on the right of lords to choose their successors, and she upheld exactly that, refusing to usurp others’ inheritance against their lord fathers’ will as the Greens had done to her.

2. “Aegon II showed Rhaenyra’s son mercy and named him heir because he cared more about preserving House Targaryen’s future than he did the Greens vs Blacks conflict”

-Egregiously false and disingenuous. Aegon’s “mercy” to his nephew was wanting to give him a choice between castration and spending his life at the Wall. It was Corlys who insisted Aegon the Younger be named heir and engaged to Jaehaera. Aegon II did not want this, he specifically said “my sisters line must end”, but he couldn’t afford to lose Corlys’ support. It was Larys who convinced him to agree to Corlys’ demands. How did he convince him? Why by telling him that Aegon the Younger would never actually marry Jaehaera or become king, they’d just lie to Corlys and when their position was strong enough they could betray and kill him, and then castrate or exile Rhaenyra’s 10 year old son as Aegon II originally wanted to. Aegon’s “mercy” for his nephew was of the same flavor as Cersei and Joffrey’s “mercy” for Sansa.

Sorry lol, this was a long response for what was a simple ask, I just love trash talking that POS usurper.😅

TLDR; yes these are only rumors in the book and Aegon being a rapist is only strictly canon in the show. But it is not inconsistent with his book characterization, and book!Aegon is in fact still an incredibly despicable person even if you assume none of these rumors are true.

[fioreofthemarch]

yearnings

[✨ this was written for zelink week 2023 organised by @zelinkcommunity and is a companion piece to 'repast' and 'kin'] Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link/Zelda Words: 1140

Despite all that time has taken from her, the Light Dragon can still recall names.

The skies in which she swims belong to Hyrule, and her sister dragons that she shares them with are Naydra, Farosh and Dinraal. Yet the Light Dragon no longer has a name, and her heart cries out in search of one — though she does not know why.

Each day at sunset, her sisters join her above the clouds. Sister, they say, come with us, to where the land meets the sky and where the mortal beings dwell. Each day, for many years, the Light Dragon cannot accept. She awaits another, one who will awaken on the Great Sky Island that she dutifully guards. This purpose, though its details are lost, burns within her.

When the swordsman finally awakens, the Light Dragon senses him immediately. She watches with muted curiosity as he begins to explore her island in the sky. Why had he come to this place? Were all the mortal beings so small? Soon she finds him on the ancient circular landing behind the island’s temple, and watches as the sword in his hand disappears in golden light. She is drawn to him then, called by a voice within: the swordsman must have a sword. Perhaps on the surface, where her sisters call to her, he will find another. Determined, the Light Dragon splits the clouds guarding the island from the world below. The swordsman does not wait; he leaps, surface bound. The Light Dragon follows.

The vast lands below swallow the swordsman whole. There are deep valleys that cut the earth and mountains that pierce the skies. There are churning rivers and yawning bays. There are open plains, marshy swamps, and rolling deserts. He must be out there, somewhere, and across all four corners of Hyrule the Light Dragon searches.

In winding canyons flooded with water, she meets her sister Farosh. Have you seen a swordsman? she asks. Farosh answers: None with valour and courage enough to impress me, sister.

Among rocky crags and cooled lava, in the shadow of a great volcano she meets her sister Dinraal. Have you seen a swordsman? she asks. Dinraal answers: Hyrule has seen many, sister, for blood flows here as easily as water flows to the sea.

Between gentle mountains, as snow feathers down, she meets her sister Naydra. Have you seen a swordsman? she asks. Naydra answers: Yes, he flies as we do, sister. I am sure he will visit you soon.

But he does not. The sorrow the Light Dragon feels at this is powerful and achingly fresh. Against her will, tears well in her eyes. She begs them not to fall; each time they do, they take more of her with them. She tries to hold on, and hold fast, but the tears fall anyway. The Light Dragon forgets why she was crying.

It is not long after this that he finds her. And it was as Naydra said; the swordsman could fly like the dragons, capturing the winds to soar through the sky. He lands softly on her back, his footsteps tickling, almost pleasant. Then he is holding onto her mane, holding very tight; is he worried he might fall? Then she can hear weeping. She hopes he is not unwell.

After some time, the swordsman speaks: “Is that really you, Zelda?”

She does not understand nor does she answer the question.

“Gods… you have the Master Sword. You’ve really had it all this time…”

Then he is moving, light feet padding about her mane. “Sorry, old girl, I’ve gotta take it from you.”

She is just thinking that she likes the gentle weight of him when a blinding pain rips through her head and down the length of her body. She lurches skyward, roaring, but the pain doesn’t stop, and it’s like something is tugging very hard on her head. It is not nice! Whatever it is should let go! It is her fur there! It keeps her warm! Let go! Let go!

The sky suddenly flashes white, and next she knows she is enveloped in clouds of shimmering gold. Calm washes through her and she relaxes, allowing herself to float. The swordsman is still there, murmuring: Hylia help me, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that’d hurt— Are you okay?

Yes, it is all going to be okay. She closes her eyes and recalls the final piece of her memories that had not yet slipped away; she has the sword, which she guarded much as she guarded her island in the sky. How this came to be, and why, is lost to her. But it is no matter. Her purpose is fulfilled. She is at peace.

After this, the swordsman visits her often. He brings her apples cooked in butter, which she eats even though she can’t really taste them, doing so because it seems to make him happy. Then he brings her flowers, threading them into her mane, which she likes for the soft pull of his fingers through her hair. Sometimes he comes to talk, telling stories of the surface, using words she doesn’t understand but enjoys for the sound of his voice. Sometimes he just comes to sit, clinging to her mane, always clinging.

Then, the last time he comes, she is sitting with him on top of the temple on the Great Sky Island, dozing. Her sisters have teased her for this. Sister beloved, what need does a dragon have for sleep? The swordsman sleeps, she has told them, and often sleeps for entire days. It seemed a pleasant activity to try, and she has found it helps her to enjoy the feeling of the sun on her back.

On this final day, she awakens to find the swordsman brushing her mane, running his hands through the strands.

“I have to go soon, Zelda,” he says. “I’ve stalled for a long time. I need to finish what you started.”

He has an apple in his hand, which she obligingly eats. “If I don’t come back, old girl, you know I love you, right? If there’s even a tiny bit of Zelda in there, I want her to know…”

Zelda. She yearns to understand this word. Is that a name? If it was, could it be hers? She does not know how to tell the swordsman this — that she can be his Zelda, if he wants. Instead she pushes her snout into his hand, nuzzling against him.

In response he wraps his arms around her, holding tight. At his back is a noble sword, in a scabbard of blue and gold. Then he lets go, runs a gentle hand across her fur one last time, and departs.

The Light Dragon Zelda returns to the sky, unmoved. He has left her before, and always returns.

Content to wait, she flies away free.

[striderepiphany]

My favorite reddie fics masterpost

I have an absolutely insane number of reddie fics saved in my bookmarks for how recently I joined this fandom so I decided to share my absolute favorites with you. Please give these authors some love and let me know which ones are you've read and enjoyed!

the year of the goat and your kid back by derryfacts2

1 chapter, 14,838 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: The day you get the most important email of your life, there’s a new black skidmark on the wall of the stairwell, and you know exactly whose fault it is. “Margaret,” you intone to the harried, wild-haired woman in the lobby. She sighs at you as she tries to jimmy her mail key loose. “I know.” It wouldn’t even be that bad if the kid would just skateboard outside. Or get good at skateboarding. Either of those things. Maggie’s a nice lady, though, and she’s had “trying my best” scribbled all over her since they moved into 6B maybe eight years ago. So you try not to be a dick, even if her son is a gold-standard pain in the ass. He’s good for three things: smells, noise, and reminding you how big Eddie must be by now.

The first It fic I read that made me go "holy shit, this is fantastic" and remains one of my all-timers (hence why its first in this list). Really fun and unique outsider POV from Eddie's estranged gay dad, and tells a very sweet story mostly through dialogue. Young adult Eddie and Richie are very cute.

i think the clock is slow by derryfacts2 (again)

3 chapters, 15,815 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: So there was that reason that work wasn’t boring, too. There was Richie’s soppy campaign of making cow eyes at the back of Eddie’s head as he passed, gently pressing Betty for details about his personal life (“I don’t think he has one. He had this awful fiancé a few years ago, but we’re all glad that’s over”), and chasing the incomparable high of a quiet, muttered “Thanks, Rich” whenever Richie picks something up for him from the copier.

Richie is a wannabe stand-up comic daylighting as the receptionist at Eddie's office. Eddie is a tightly-wound corporate asshole. They are both disasters. Or: five times Richie watched Eddie and one that Eddie watched him back.

I really enjoy workplace dramas and this one satisfied the itch so well. So many good scenes and dialogue, this author characterizes them in a way that really works for me. The perfect read-in-an-afternoon fic.

listen to my heart (can you hear it sing?) by vampirerising

12 chapters, 137,708 words, Major Character Death. Summary: "You need to wake up now,” Stan says softly. “This isn’t real.”

“I know, but I can’t,” Richie sobs. “I don’t want to be here.” Not again. Never again. It is dead, why is It still haunting him?

Stan fixes him with one of those looks of his, the one where he can see his every thought as if it were written on his face. “That’s not true, Trashmouth.”

Alternatively: We all know Richie gets caught in the Deadlights, but do we really know what happens after?

(Deadlights, timelines, Stan’s ghostly meddling—oh, my.)

This one is fucking weird in a way that I absolutely adore. Kind of like a sci-fi novel in that it requires you to pay attention to figure out what the fuck is going on but its so good and worth it. The MCD is Stan, not Eddie, and the last couple chapters are actually a very normal domestic Eddie lives AU. One of the first reddie artworks I made was fanart for a scene from this fic that I really enjoy.

a strange sense of familiarity by Katranga

21 chapters, 103,571 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "So Eddie, what brings you to the bar tonight?" Richie asked. "Gonna rebound from the divorce? Pick up a hot young twenty-something to feel young again?” “Fuck you,” Eddie said, jutting his chin forward. “What a terrible way to ruin the mood.” “I’m sorry, all my moods are poorly cultivated. What mood were you looking for?” A nervous lump grew in Eddie's throat. He threw back his drink to get rid of it.

Hand wrapped around the glass he’d just slammed back onto the bar, he said, “The mood that gets me leaving with a schlubby forty-something.”

Pre-chapter two, Eddie and Richie meet and don't remember each other, but have an instant connection anyway...

This one is just... so fucking good. Decently long without ever feeling like it's dragging. Part 1 is them developing their totally-casual-I-swear relationship, which blows up right when Mike calls them back to Derry. Part 2 is them navigating both killing a nightmare clown demon and the awkwardness between them. Also everybody lives! So that's nice.

change partners by avacadomoon (with podfic available)

1 chapter, 30,453 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Rich," Eddie says heavily. Meaningfully, and Richie holds his breath, both afraid and hopeful that Eddie is about to say something really sappy, like I always knew and it didn't matter to me, or you know I support you no matter what. Eddie takes a deep breath before he speaks, and Richie closes his eyes, braced for it. "I didn't look at your dick pics."

"Well hey, Eds, thanks," Richie says, laughing incredulously. "Thanks for that."

I LOVE THIS ONE SOOO FUCKING MUCH. I urge you to consider this as a rec for this author as well, as they have a bunch of other reddie fics I think are fantastic. I have a weakness for any reddie fic that lets them be just a little mean to each other. As a treat. (Also the podfic is very well done, you should check that out too.)

check raise by avacodomoon

1 chapter, 15,061 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Eddie, not a fan of stand up comedy, not a fan of his beer," Rich says, leaning back on one elbow and squinting at him, like he's lining him up in a camera lens frame, "but what is he doing drinking alone?"

"I was alone, and now I'm not," Eddie says. "Some prick sat down next to me and started yapping."

"Ah, unpleasant to talk to," Rich concludes. "Explains a lot."

I know I meant the last rec as a blanket rec for all this author's works but I'm including this one specifically because it has a twist ending that is well-foreshadowed and it slapped my dick clean off.

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers

11 chapters, 107,947 words, Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings. Summary: In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

Definitely NOT your average Eddie lives AU. Drama! Mild peril! Psychic abilities! The ghost of Stanley Uris collect calling from beyond the grave via Richie Tozier's vocal chords! Fun and freaky and weird. Three things that make any fic a Josh favorite.

I'm going to stop there because I'm sleepy but let me know if you want more! Like I said I've got like 70 of these lovingly tucked in my bookmarks and I'm happy to share with the class.

[zileans-big-cl0ck]

Hi! hope you are having a nice day :D

Can you please do Jhin x gn! reader headcanons! SFW and NSFW if you want. Please i´m lacking Jhin content :,)

Thank you! Take care <3

✦–Random Jhin headcanons.✦ (SFW & NSFW)

✦I will definitely not let the League fandom suffer from the lack of Jhin content!

✧ prompt: ✧ totally random headcanons that just appeared to be in my head, because I tend to think about League of Legends hot champions TOO MUCH.

✧ champions: ✧ Jhin, the Virtuoso.

✧ reader: ✧ gender neutral.

✧ author’s note: ✧ As I stated, I will definitely NOT let the League fandom suffer from the lack of Jhin content, even if this means I have to actually WRITE something AND share this. I’m a 300k+ Maestry Jhin main by the way, from the times I actually used to main adc. A very painful backstory, as you see. (As always, please ignore any mistakes. Let’s say I’m tired.)

masterlist

✦SFW:

First of all, you are Jhin’s muse. You are his everything. His inspiration, his devotion, his deepest desire.

That’s the first reason why must you be protected at all costs, kept safely in his mansion. The word ’jealous’ is not worthy of his exquisite person, therefore he prefers being claimed as protective - he is obsessed with you.

It is somewhat between the thrill of keeping his precious muse close to himself (always skulking, always taking care of them) and the repugnant fear of losing them.

You are aware of his perfectionism, but it does not mean that you always have to be on the alert, be the best of yourself, always present your virtues - for Jhin, you are the definition of perfection, you embody the word of ideal creation. He claims you as the noblest person in the world, despite your free opinion on yourself that can sometimes let you down.

Jhin would never let you think of yourself as unworthy of his love, unworthy of life, unworthy of your body (if you ever even caught a glimpse of that feelings).

He cherishes it, your body, and wants you to see yourself in the same light as he does.

Because Jhin is well aware of the fact, that he is the only one who can gaze at you admiringly and see the whole concept of your person, most true and undisputed. He would never be mistaken if it comest to you, to your goregous person, the one he worships and adores.

So Jhin is a romantic lover. He sees no world beside you, no colors and no inspiration. It wasn’t a long time after he realized that his surrounding becomes dull and monochromatic whenever he finds himself missing you.

✦NSFW:

Body worshipping is not like a thing he enjoys, as an artist, a virtuoso, a connoisseur - he thinks it is crutial, obvious. He treats your bodies like an artwork, a composition of two perfectly fitting sculptures.

I would call him a soft dom, though sex itself is a way to express himself for Jhin. In the end, trivial human desires are nothing in the face of performance.

The moment with him is always intimate; I think he would be against any kind of public sex, taking the risk of being caught as aggravating.

But he enjoys gun play. Whisper is a fundamental part of his life, though it is only a weapon- no, not even a weapon. A tool destined to paint his canvas. It has to touch you and you must shiver from the cold feeling of metal against your skin.

I don’t think Jhin is a rough type either. Eventually, he is a sensual lover, placing a great impact in foreplay and the scene around you, so it can be perfect and remain undisturbed.

He appreciates you being needy, though. Jhin finds it amusing to see you squirming for him, maybe even begging. You can always take advantage of his soft spot for you and those little sounds you make.

He is very talkative during sex. Moreover, it is not only teasing, but also reassuring words and sweet promises.

And he is a man of word. You can await him fulffiling every of these dark whispers, sooner or later.

[darcytaylor]

I understand your pain as a fellow non-shipper in this fandom. I don't know where to go anymore myself. I fully understand why you needed to step away. I often wonder if anyone is having any fun here anymore. There are entrenched narratives that are easily debunkable yet people will chop your head off if you dare to even suggest they aren't true. You can either join the entrenched echo chambers or get out, which I find absurd. I for one have been very over it for a while and I hope they don't put you off again because a more balanced space is desperately needed. There are more of us here than you'd think, we've just been beaten back from engaging because you can't reason with some corners of this site. The brainrot is alarming.

Thank you for sharing this with me, and letting me know that there are people who may be more like myself out there! I completely understand where you’re coming from - it really does feel like navigating a minefield at times in fandom spaces, especially when things become so polarized.

I love diving into the complexities of the characters in Bridgerton, but I also enjoy following the actors’ careers and seeing the variety of roles they take on or the work and things they do outside the show.

I still believe that speculating is fun and a natural part of engaging with any fandom. It can help keep the excitement alive between seasons or during gaps in content.

It’s also human nature to be curious about what’s going on behind the scenes with the actors or within their social circles. There’s nothing wrong with wondering what Nicola, Luke, or any of the Bridgerton cast are up to in their personal lives. It becomes tricky, though, when speculation turns into certainty or when people lock themselves into one interpretation of events.

I try to approach it by coming up with multiple possibilities instead of latching onto one theory and running with it. I believe that way, it stays playful and open-ended without diving into a rabbit hole of "this must be true." I also think it can be a healthier way of engaging because you’re acknowledging the unknowns while still allowing space for curiosity.

Nicola could be dating Jake, Luke (N or T), Eamon or the bartender that works down the street from her house. The options are endless! When you come to a conclusion with the little facts that we actually know, it can hinder the balance between curiosity and respect for the actors and their close circles.

I think it’s fun to explore all the possibilities without getting stuck on just one explanation. That way, I can stay open to new information and avoid getting swept up in the frenzy of needing certainty.

I think it should be about enjoying the journey rather than rushing to a definitive answer. Staying open to possibilities keeps the fandom fun while ensuring we respect the boundaries of the actors and their personal lives.

Bring on the possibilities!

[a-simply-simping-simp]

SEGA WHEN I CATCH YOU SEGA SEGA WHEN I CATCH YOU

So mad so mad so mad so mad so mad at SEGA why why WHY must they do this to me. Imagine falling in love and then KILLING that same love. Hahahahahaha imagine being a kid when it happened. HAHAHAHAHA IMAGINE HAVING ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS JUST WATCH YOU SOB AS YOU HOLD THE TRIGGER TO SHOOT YOUR LOVE. HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH IMAGINE ALL THATS LEFT OF HER AFTER YOU EXPLODE HER WITH AN ENERGY CANNON IS A SINGULAR SEED. IMAGINE NOBODY EXCEPT ONE PERSON REALLY COMES TO SHOULDER YOUR PAIN AND TEARS. IMAGINE NOBODY THOUGHT THAT MAYBE A CHILD SHOULDN'T HAVE TO SHOOT HIS NONOFFICIAL GIRLFRIEND. IMAGINE-

Anyway, all greiving aside, I miss her.

I joined the Sonic fandom in a kinda odd way ngl. At the time, I was stupid and a fresh middle schooler and it was extremely popular to make fun of the sonic franchise cuz it was a whole meme and stuff. I also made fun of it cuz I thought I was supposed to. But I realized it was stupid to make fun of something I haven't even seen before. So I wanted to educate myself on it. Coincidently, I saw a video. It was by CourtneySNT about her first ever sonic fancomic around that time. I really enjoyed it actually. Sometimes I go back and rewatch it. Anyway, in her comic, she had introduced Tails to the screen and I fell in love with the fandom. Grant it, her depiction of tails at that moment was the polar opposite of what he's actually like, but still. It compelled me to watch Sonic X, The Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Boom, Sonic Prime, A bit of Sonic Underground, and just...Sonic the Hedgehog. I also watched a few gameplays and a lot of cutscene movies of the videogames as well as parodies and fan content. So...yeah.

Now it's just a Sonic Prime Nine analysis/rant below lol

Also, since I mentioned SONIC PRIME, I might as well rant about it. NINE. WAS. SO. PERFECT. He was well written, well scripted, and well developed. Everything about nim was chef's kiss. His story was literally just a what if. What if Sonic never met Tails? Well, number one, he wouldn't be named Tails. He'd make his own name. Nine. Also, he became cold and distant because he expected others to treat him the same due to his two tails. Perfect character already but then they fleshed him out some more and introduced this...guy named Sonic.

He didn't know Sonic at the time nor did he really know...anybody. So when this blue loser comes waltzing into his house unannounced, he obviously gets hostile. Why? Well, one, because a rando broke into his casa. But also because everyone he met was hostile to him first. Crazy. Then this guy seems to be friendly. A first. So, Nine lets down his ice cold walls and trusts him. Let me emphasize that. NINE TRUSTED SONIC. Remember that. It is SO important.

So, Nine goes along and helps this guy for no real reason other than the fact that he considers him a friend. Now, you'd think he also helped to stop the egg council, but he really never had bad blood with them in the first place. He isn't in the resistance nor shows any resentment. He's Nine all on his own, with or without the council. In fact, he probably doesn't care if they rule because he wanted to be alone anyway. But he helped. Why? Because he wanted to help his FRIEND.

This goal warps when Nine discovers an empty realm called the grim. He can have a fresh start there with him and sonic. Just the people he cared about. He asked Sonic to go with him because he wanted to share his dream with him. He wanted Sonic to be a part of it with him. But Sonic undermined his dreams. It'd be one thing if he simply disagreed with it or gave a good, justifying, and well explained reason for refusing, but instead he didn't explain himself well. Sonic entitled himself to the prisms, assuming him getting home was everyone's priority. I don't mean to villainize him because this was simply reckless and unknowing behaviour, but still. Nine got upset that his FRIEND was trampling on his dreams as if they didn't matter nearly as much as Sonic's.

So, he "betrayed" Sonic. I want to bring this to everyone's attention. Nine had critisized Sonic because he recklessly didn't think about what woukd happen to everyone else if he DID bring back his home. Like, nobody knows jack squat about the prisms. Sonic, Nine, Shadow, even the egg council was lost when it came to those big shiny rock things. It shines and made our universes. That's all they knew. So, with that in mind, it makes sense to be concerned. Like what if it kills us? What if it destroys our world in order to bring back yours? They only exist because of the prism being destroyed, so if you fix it, would that kill them? Idk, I feel like this was mentioned once and never brought up again and it makes me mad. Such potential.

Anyway, after the situation, Nine goes back to the grim to make his dreams come true by himself. Because the one person he TRUSTED broke his trust. So, after a bunch of irrelavent stuff happens, Sonic goes to the grim after making a deal to Nine. Nine lets him into the grim and Sonic starts to preach to Nine about their friendship. Nine listens and almost starts to trust him again, maybe thinking about his actions and how they might not have been the best. How their friendship could maybe be salvaged. Why? Because Sonic said he woukd sacrifice himself to save Nine too. But then an entire army shows up to beat Nine into a teeny tiny pulp. Grant it, Sonic did not call them to the grim. But then he imediently sides with them in taking Nine down in an all out war. After saying he'd sacrifice for Nine too, he pulls an uno reverse on him. Trust broken. Again.

So now, he wants to trust nobody. Why? Because Sonic broke once too many. So he starts fighting. And fighting. And fighting. Like he's been doing his entire life. Who is he fighting? Someone who he thought was his friend. Someone who claims to be his friend. Someone who he thought he wouldn't need to fight. And he's clearly breaking his own body in desperation while doing so. Nobody really said anything about it either btw. Like, he's literally hurting himself and Sonic, his "friend" didn't even try to stop him because he was hurting himself, but because he was huring others and taking the prisms. I understand of course because he's hurting your friends, but his own pain wasn't even a slither of his drive.

Anyway, the ending sucked personally. It was anticlimactic. Nine gives in just because and then Sonci goes home, mystery never discovered, and yay we're done.