#im coming to terms with the fact that grief is a part of life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trickstarbrave · 3 months

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WIP WHENEVER

HIIIIIIIIII im very excited to share this wip. im so mad i wrote this out of order bc i wanna post it immediately. im looking forward tho to finally being able to edit and post it on ao3 normally

i got tagged by @caliblorn and @your-talos-is-problematic and im taggingggggg @woundjob, @thescrolls-haveforetold, @wellthebardsdead and my roommate @soundwavefucker69

here is smth for moon and star. lots of lorkhan talk. some chim. some trauma. even some dagoth ur

literally i was like "oh yeah. its all coming together" writing this also its long im sorry

also here is my god!nerevar sketch. can be interpreted also as just how lorkhan appears to neht and the ppl around him

Malacath’s hand touched his chest and pain wracked his body. Nerevar could feel the blade cutting away his skin—cutting through the bone of his sternum and splintering it. It ripped apart and opened his ribcage, before that damn hand was then inside his chest. His anxiety spiked as he could feel phantom touches on his heart, a hand gripping it, long claws digging into the muscle as it continued to beat loud and sturdy. His whole body had gone rigid, nostrils flared and his breathing coming in quick pants desperate to get more air in his lungs.

He was terrified. More than terrified, in fact. It was like being killed in the heart chamber but all the more worse somehow. He was choking now, gagging on blood—thick, black blood that was pouring from his chest, bubbling up in his throat.

And then Nerevar was overcome with the urge to laugh. To laugh besides the terror coursing through him, to laugh even though he was gagging and choking on his own blood. He knew he would die; it had been a part of his plan all along. He hadn’t known what death would be like, but he had anticipated it, at least on his own terms. And yet here Trinimac was, killing him himself. Ripping his heart from his chest.

He had intended the first death to be slow and simple. A fading ember rather than a bright, all encompassing flame that destroyed everything with it. He had intended to bear the burden as the cause of the first death in their reality where death did not yet exist—was merely a theory. But here Trinimac was, unknowingly mantling that sin himself. A cruel irony he would be the one to blame for this. It was not his fault, but it would be his responsibility and duty.

He’d collapsed at some point, gasping, crying, and choking on blood as Voryn held him close. Voryn shouldn’t see him like this—not his beloved, sobbing and begging. He couldn’t hear his voice over the drumming of his own heart but he tried to speak despite all the gagging he was doing. His gorgeous, sweet lover, his beautiful hawk shouldn’t have to watch him die like this. Not when Nerevar knew this was coming, deep down. Not when he had doomed them both, sacrificed Voryn’s life on the altar just as much as his own. He was regretting it now, if only because he couldn’t apologize; how could he speak when Trinimac had already ripped out his heart? How could he explain he never wanted to hurt Voryn in truth? How would his beloved hawk even react to his death? Oh the fury he could bring down, how he could drown the world in blood and tears if he was pushed to the brink…

And what of Azura, his sister? His poor, vain, vindictive sister… She hadn’t agreed to help him, but he knew she would be in a rage over his death. And even the man killing him was sobbing and crying, apologizing despite his lord—Nerevar’s own brother—ordering his execution. How could he apologize to this man? To tell him he knew he didn’t mean for it, that Nerevar was the villain all along in this story? Would that soothe his grief? Trinimac, Kyne, Azura, all of the others… How would they fair without him? Tears were now spilling from his eyes not from pain but sorrow that he wouldn’t be there to comfort and love them. Ah, if only he could kiss his hawk one last time…

“Nerevar!” Voryn’s voice finally cut through, and a disconnect happened in the vision. He was untethered now, the sensation of falling back into his own body hitting him, and his ears were ringing loudly, a dizziness washing over him. There were no more feathers on Voryn’s face or on his cloak—why would there be? Voryn wasn’t… Voryn wasn’t a hawk, why would he call him that so fondly? There weren’t even tears streaming down his face like he had seen before, but his face was in a grimace, pained watching him writhe and flail choking on imaginary blood.

His hand came up to his chest as he felt around, but there was no gaping wound like he’d expected. Why had he felt it so clearly then? His whole body was still shaking from the terror and pain, unable to calm the trembling.

“Do you remember now, Lorkhan?” Malacath asked, still standing over him. Vivec and Sil were currently being held back by the numerous orcs, though they were swearing up a storm and desperately trying to fight their way closer to defend him. Even Voryn had a spell prepared as he cradled Nerevar close to his chest, posed with the ferocity of a wild animal protecting its young.

“I-I’m not…” Nerevar began, though it felt like a lie on his tongue. He could still taste the metallic black in his mouth, the unnatural blood he was choking on. His body felt hot now, his mouth dry making the metallic taste all the more nauseating. “Lorkhan is dead!” He shouted definitively. Lorkhan was a dead god—long dead before Nerevar had ever been born as a lowly half blooded chimer in that ebony mine.

“And yet, here you are, alive and in the flesh.” Malacath responded, his expression unwavering. “I would know that heartbeat anywhere. I would know how you battle more than anyone else.”

“Stop it!” Nerevar shouted, covering his ears, still shaking.

“Why you deny it is my only question for you.”

“I’m not Lorkhan!” Nerevar growled, teeth bared. His whole body felt like it was burning, just like in the heart chamber. That supernatural chanting from his dream came back too, at the edges of his senses, as he fought back the urge to vomit. “I’m not Lorkhan, just shut up, shut up, shut up!!”

The next thing he knew, everything went black, the last thing he heard being his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and Voryn calling his name.

Nerevar’s eyes snapped open. His hands frantically touched at his chest, once again checking for the wound, only to find nothing. Still, the unmistakable ache was there, however faint.

“Where…?” He found himself someplace… Bizarre. There was stone architecture, that much he knew, but it seemed… Foreign, though they were in a state of disarray. It looked like some kind of abandoned tower, the roof having long since caved in, vines growing over stone. In the middle, where Nerevar was laying was soft grass and a few wildflowers. He sat up, looking around even further, confused.

“Damn Trinimac, causing problems again…” Someone behind him muttered, and Nerevar quickly turned to see--

Himself?

He jumped, panicked. No, no he could tell it wasn’t himself. He looked a lot like Nerevar, and sounded a lot like Nerevar, but there was something off about his appearance. He was taller than Nerevar--around Voryn’s height maybe? His hair was much longer too, not to mention he was wearing long robes Nerevar would never wear given how complicated and annoying they looked. Not to mention the longer he looked at him the more his appearance seemed to change--subtle ripples you had to focus on to know. His eyes subtly changed shape, along with his other features, sort of at random in moments where if you blinked you’d miss them.

“Apologies for that.” The man said, walking over and plopping down to sit next to Nerevar. “I never expected his followers to summon him, nor that he’d do something like that…”

“Who are you?” Nerevar asked, his heart still racing in his chest. The other simply plopped his chin in his hand, staring back at Nerevar, amused.

“You and your lover--both just asking questions instead of even trying to figure it out for yourselves…” He tsk-tsked with a soft click of his tongue and a shake of his head.

“How the hell am I supposed to know who you are?” Nerevar snapped. “I don’t even know where I am!”

“Easy, no need to raise your voice.” He still looked amused, despite Nerevar’s anger.

“Why in Oblivion do you look like me?” Nerevar demanded an answer now; he was in no mood to play games at the moment. He felt his heart being ripped out by that damn orc god and now he had someone playing mind games with him.

The other sighed.

“I am Lorkhan.” Nerevar’s blood ran cold.

“What…?” Nerevar stared in confusion and shock. “But Lorkhan is--”

“Dead?” He asked with a smirk and a quirk of his brow. “Don’t I know it.” Lorkhan then laughed heartily. “But when did that stop the dead from interfering with the living from time to time?”

“Why are you here?” Nerevar asked, leaning away from him.

“I thought it would be only fair to show myself to you after that stunt Trinimac pulled.” He explained. “Though I imagine the fact you were stabbed through the chest once before only made it that much harder for you.”

Nerevar was trying to figure out the situation he was in, putting the pieces together the best he could. Several daedra called him Lorkhan, and here was Lorkhan looking remarkably similar to Nerevar. Was it possible people were mixing them up based on appearance? That didn’t seem quite right; it would make sense for Malacath and potentially Dagon, but Dagon didn’t call him Lorkhan initially, and not to mention it wouldn’t explain the nords. He doubted the elf hating people of Skyrim would so readily accept an elven appearance for their chief deity. Nor did it explain the strange, supernatural beating of his heart that drove him to accomplish strange feats out of sheer willpower alone.

“... Why do you look like me?” Nerevar repeated his question again.

“Come now, I thought you’d be smart enough to figure that out.” Lorkhan laughed again.

“Answer me.”

“Well,” Lorkhan’s grin looked mischievous now. “It’s only fitting I look like you because I am you, don’t you think?”

This time a numbing tingle followed the chill in his blood. “Y… You…”

“Or well, I suppose it might be easier to understand if I say you’re a part of me.” Lorkhan continued. “You wouldn’t be the first mortal to be a fragment of me, anyways.”

“I’m not you!” Nerevar snapped, gritting his teeth. He did what he was best at: lashing out when he was truly scared and confused--when problems became too difficult to ignore or solve on his own. “I’m not you! I’m not Lorkhan!!”

Silence followed, the faint sound of birds chirping having vanished, the sky turning a stormy gray. He was panting from his outburst of yelling, but the screaming hadn’t really solved anything. Lorkhan was still sitting in front of him, looking at him with a serious expression, unphased. He was still in this crumbling tower, sitting in the grass.

How long could he run from this? Daedric princes called him Lorkhan. The nords called him Shor. The strange visions he received that only made sense if they were Lorkhan’s memories, not to mention his heart--

Nerevar curled up, hands moving up as he felt a pain in his chest, clutching his shirt tightly.

He was scared. He was scared and he didn’t know what was going on. He was terrified because ultimately, he didn’t know what this meant. He didn’t know what this made him.

Gingerly, two arms wrapped around him, pulling him up from the fetal position he curled himself into and into a warm embrace.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Lorkhan whispered, “Just let it out.” As soon as he said that, tears were flowing out of Nerevar’s eyes as he openly sobbing into his shoulder, holding onto him. Nerevar never really had a father--as the Nerevarine he was an orphan who didn’t really know who his parents were and as Nerevar his father was hunted down before the two of them ever met. But at that moment Nerevar couldn’t deny there was something paternal in the way Lorkhan held him gently, letting him cry and sob with arms that felt so much stronger than Nerevar could imagine. As alien as it was, he felt safe in his arms, the pain in his chest fading though he was still distraught and crying.

Eventually though, his tears died down to soft whimpers rather than open sobs, Lorkhan stroking his hair all the while.

“It’s alright.” He repeated, trying to reassure Nerevar.

“It’s not alright.” Nerevar countered. “If I’m just you that means I don’t really exist!” It was the truth; if he was just some shard of Lorkhan then he had no real identity of his own. He was just a piece of a larger whole, delusional in that it thought itself independent and separate. “No one really knows me. No one really loves me.” The person Voryn loved wasn’t even real, just a false identity of someone who denied who they truly were. Was the person Voryn actually loved just the pieces of Lorkhan that made up Nerevar? Lorkhan said there were other mortals like him--what if Voryn left him for someone who was a larger, better part of Lorkhan? “I’m just a part of you, an extension of you. I don’t have any thoughts or feelings of my own!”

“Hey now, that’s not true.” Lorkhan interjected. “If you had no thoughts or feelings of your own, how could you deny being me?”

“But--”

“You have thoughts and feelings and emotions of your own.” Lorkhan reiterated. “You have your own identity, your own history, your own relationships.” Lorkhan gently dried the tears on his cheeks, careful of the sharp nails on his hands. “You don’t have all the same traits as me, and likewise, how you act on things is entirely up to you.”

“But then how am I you?” Nerevar asked, apprehensive.

“Hm… How to explain this…” Lorkhan began, humming softly, trying to gather his thoughts. “... Do you know that sometimes people take cuttings from plants to make a new one?”

Nerevar did know that, though he’d never done so himself. He was bad at growing plants, but he’d heard of it a few times.

“When they take a cutting from a tree for instance, it was once a part of that tree.” Lorkhan continued. “One of the many, smaller branches of it. But with care and cultivation, it grows roots of its own, and then spreads itself deep into the soil as a little sapling, before finally growing into a tree itself.” Lorkhan then smiled at him. “You’re like a cutting made from me that grew into its own tree. We might be made up of the same things and bear the same fruit, but you might have different branches than me and grow in different ways.”

“... But what if someone only loves that tree because of its fruit?” Nerevar asked.

What if Voryn only loved him for the parts of him that were Lorkhan? What if, when Voryn found out, he became disillusioned? Why would he bother with having Nerevar as a lover if he was just a part of a larger whole? What if there was a better piece of Lorkhan out there to love, or he could simply worship the dead god in earnest to get closer to the source?

Lorkhan responded by pinching his cheek playfully, pulling Nerevar from his mental spiral.

“Then someone doesn’t really love that tree specifically, now do they?”

“But--”

“Trees are much more than the fruit they bear.” Lorkhan continued, cutting him off. “They provide shade in the sun, and shelter in the rain. They are homes for birds, and the wind whistles through the branches to make music, or even children play in the branches and leaves.” Lorkhan was still smiling at him warmly. “Even if they love the fruit it makes too, not just any fruit tree can be their tree. And if they only love the fruit, wouldn’t you prefer someone who really loved the tree to take care of it rather than someone who only cared about what the tree produced?”

Ah, Nerevar saw what he was getting at here. If Voryn only loved the parts of him that were Lorkhan and didn’t care about him otherwise, that meant he didn’t really love Nerevar. Nerevar’s hand reached over to caress the scar on his left shoulder gently, unable to really feel it through his shirt and armor, but comforted by the knowledge it was there nonetheless.

Would Voryn have really asked Nerevar to carve his name into him if he didn’t love Nerevar? Perhaps the rest of Lorkhan didn’t appeal to Voryn. Perhaps the other traits other mortals shared with Lorkhan weren’t the same as how Nerevar was. Nerevar wanted to trust Voryn with his heart and make this work--he shouldn’t be assuming once again that Voryn would be quick to leave him and replace him with someone else. Voryn committed to Nerevar.

“There we go.” Lorkhan smiled, seeing his stormy expression fade.

“... But I don’t know what any of this means.” Nerevar continued. “Why am I a part of you? What does any of this mean?” How was he supposed to move forward like this? How many other daedra would challenge him calling him Lorkhan? “How can I tell what’s my thoughts and abilities and what’s just yours? How can I tell if I’m even real?”

That was the part Nerevar was still grappling with. If he was called Lorkhan and acted like Lorkhan and did what Lorkhan was supposed to do… Didn’t that just make him Lorkhan? When he was the Nerevarine he slowly just assumed Nerevar’s memories, thoughts, and identity after he was sent back in time--or was going back in time not real either. “The future--what about my memories of the future? Are those fake too or--”

Lorkhan smiled softly, almost knowingly.

“Oh little star,” Lorkhan chuckled as though he was recounting something funny. “None of your memories of the future are real.”

“... Huh?” They weren’t… Real? “But Dagoth Ur--the Tribunal--” Didn’t Vivec have a vision of Nerevar being killed as king? That was in the future Nerevar saw as well.

“None of it was real.” Lorkhan was still smiling, but Nerevar was sent spiraling again.

It was all so real. Nerevar could feel it. He felt Vivec’s spear ramming through him. He could hear the hurt and betrayal in Dagoth Ur’s voice, along with the cold anger as he revealed he would never be able to trust Nerevar even if Nerevar had agreed to join him. Almalexia had attempted to kill him a second time as the Nerevarine, and he remembered fighting her after discovering Sotha Sil’s mangled corpse.

Panic set in then. If none of that was real then… Why did he not remember his past? Why had he dreamed up such a strange turn of events? Why--

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Lorkhan leaned in close, a devilish smirk on his face now. “I’m not real either.”

Nerevar blinked in shock, only to find Lorkhan was gone. In fact, everything was gone now, leaving Nerevar floating in an inky, black void.

Nerevar’s panic rose at that. It could have been Lorkhan just telling him he was a figment of Nerevar’s imagination and not actually the ghost of a dead god but… Nerevar knew that wasn’t the case. He could feel it, deep in the pit of his stomach, and the revelation was not a comforting one. He was left entirely untethered in this void, and looking down at his hands, he saw himself flickering in and out.

If Nerevar was Lorkhan, and Lorkhan didn’t exist, then that meant that he didn’t exist either. Really didn’t exist. It was so much more comfortable to imagine himself as a shard of Lorkhan, living and moving on its own, ignorant to the fact it was part of a larger whole.

A clawed hand touched his back and a sickening chill overtook him as he found himself in the heart chamber of Red Mountain once again. He was trembling as he continued to flicker in and out of existence. The heart’s rhythm was equally unsteady, stopping and starting at random, the sounds a disjointed mess.

If the heart of the world was not stable--was not real--then what did that make the world?

What did that make his friends? The people he loved?

What did that make Voryn?

A familiar voice called out to him, large, clawed hands gripping him tightly and pulling him in close.

“I told you once before,” Dagoth Ur began, “We are bound to the dreamsleeve together.” Nerevar knew that wasn’t right, but he didn’t know how to counter it either.

“I am the dreamer,” Dagoth Ur continued, “And this is all my dream, my sweet Nerevar.” Nerevar didn’t like the fondness in his tone. This was a twisted version of Voryn, corrupted and maddened, fully delusional. He preferred Voryn sane and warm, affectionate and protective. He didn’t want the delirious, maddened version of him that was Dagoth Ur.

Then, the two had changed locations. Instead of the heart chamber with the unsteady heartbeat echoing around them, they were in what seemed to be a rainbow colored river, all the different colors flowing in strange, glowing patterns. They moved up and down, left and right, forwards and backwards, swirls of color that flowed like incoherent water simultaneously both much thicker and almost syrupy than pure water, and also like it was barely there as they caressed his legs. Each movement came with a strange, fragmented thought, emotion, or memory.

“You are simply a part of my dream.” Dagoth Ur’s hands moved to the front of him now, caressing at his chest. “My most glorious, beautiful creation…”

Nerevar knew that wasn’t true either though. It was an instinctive knowledge, perhaps, but he could tell that was simply not the case. If there was a dreamer, it certainly wasn’t Dagoth Ur.

And then Nerevar looked to his hands to see he was a dunmer again, grey skin and all to match the equally grey hands on his chest. One of Nerevar’s hands moved to caress the scar left from corprus he got as a Nerevarine when he was forcibly attacked to infect him with it, sending him further in his quest, ironically. The scar was an ugly, messy thing--a gross mess of scar tissue trying in vain to form over an injury that wasn’t truly there, growing more mangled and grotesque by the day. Before he couldn’t remember where the attack was from Gares, as his memories of the Third Era faded more and more with his time in Resdayn like a hazy dream, leaving him unsure if it was on his chest, his stomach, his thigh, or his arm. But now he remembered it was--

All of them. He had been hit by the attack in all of those places, in different moments in time, in different versions of the same event. And in that way, it wasn’t one moment specifically but simply an event that could have played out differently, in a way bending and contorting around the flow of fate. And just as he realized it, the scar itself faded entirely.

“Nerevar, stop this.” Dagoth Ur warned, his voice concerned. Almost frightened if Nerevar was being honest, though he knew the other wouldn’t admit to it.

“It… Didn’t happen.”

“Yes, it did.” Dagoth ur stressed, but Nerevar stepped away from his hands, walking along the multicolored river. “Do you doubt your own memories? My own memories?” Dagoth Ur insisted. “Just as that was my dream, this too is my dream. A dream where we get to be together.” His voice took on a facsimile of warmth and affection. “A dream where nothing can keep us apart--”

“No,” Nerevar countered, his voice soft. “It happened and… It didn’t. Just how this… None of this is real either.” The thought wasn’t as scary as it was the first time around. In fact, the revelation seemed to almost bring some relief. He dipped his hand into the liquid that pooled around his thighs, running his fingers through it in what seemed to be an arbitrary pattern, relishing in the feelings that washed over him. Like this, he could make them seem coherent. Like this he could move them until he could faintly hear a song--

“Nerevar Mora, return to my side at once.” Dagoth Ur’s tone was threatening again. It seemed that Nerevar had gotten under his skin.

“You are not a god. I’m not a figment of your dream…” Nerevar could insist if anything he might be the one dreaming all of this up but… He knew that wasn’t quite right either. Lorkhan didn’t exist. Nerevar didn’t exist, so he couldn’t be the one dreaming. But he knew he wasn’t a figment of Dagoth Ur’s imagination, that was for certain. “... And you’re not a figment of mine.”

Dagoth Ur was in front of him again, clawed hands gripping his arms tightly while his teeth audibly grit from behind the gold mask. “If I am not the dreamer then you’re saying I don’t exist! Do you even understand what you’re saying?!” His hands gripped Nerevar’s arms even tighter, but Nerevar himself was unphased. “I exist because I say I exist. You exist because I allow you to exist.”

“Or have you forgotten your nightmares? The memories of me?” Dagoth ur changed gears now that he saw it wasn’t persuading Nerevar. “Have you forgotten the way you shuddered at my touch? Or the way I could make such sweet, passionate love to you that you forgot everything else?” Nerevar had to admit he did in fact enjoy those moments with Voryn; Nerevar loved nothing more than losing himself completely in Voryn’s body, of being unable to think about nothing else but how wonderful Voryn could make him feel. But Nerevar knew he couldn’t forget this whole mess even happened and fall readily back into Voryn’s arms, trying to delude himself that it was real. He knew he’d go mad even trying, unable to take joy from it as he tried to deny the reality he was confronted with before.

“Do not make me rip you asunder and remake you.” Dagoth Ur threatened, venom dripping off his tongue. But at the threat, Nerevar reached his hands out, cupping the golden mask in them, before throwing the mask off entirely.

His face looked like Voryn’s but so much older and more tired. His eyes were dead, glazed over and foggy, with only the third eye on his forehead seemingly capable of sight. His complexion was equally dead--ashen even for a dunmer. A dead sleeper who dreamed he was still alive, just as that wise woman said so long ago.

Nerevar leaned up, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. He didn’t like this maddened version of Voryn, but he knew he still loved him. He loved Dagoth Ur and mourned for him. As horrible as it was, it was a mercy for Nerevar to slay him as the Nerevarine. It was a mercy for things to return to the past so they could have a better future, one where Nerevar wouldn’t hurt him as cruelly as he did the first time around.

Then, just as the gentle kiss started, Nerevar pulled away, whispering softly. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he even realized it, but the truth spoken in them was more real than anything else he had seen.

“I already unmade you.”

Dagoth Ur stared down at him in shock, before, like ash in the wind, he faded. And Nerevar was left standing alone in the dreamsleeve.

Yet, something was gnawing at his psyche. If Dagoth Ur was not the dreamer and didn’t allow him to exist, then what was his purpose? If this was all a dream, then who was dreaming?

Dread washed over Nerevar again, overwhelming him as he felt like someone or something was watching him. Like he was a tiny insect crawling where he shouldn’t have, about to be crushed by the figure that finally realized he existed.

Yet, part of Dagoth Ur’s words made sense. He wasn’t real. None of this was real. Nerevar could either stand there and accept it and fade into the liquid around him and dissolve into nothingness…

Or he could insist he did exist. That he wanted to exist. That he wanted to continue on, in spite of how nonsensical it was.

“... I exist because I will it.” Nerevar knew he wasn’t the dreamer, but he existed in spite of it. He refused to vanish and become nothing more than a disjointed collective of memories free floating around him.

“Well done.” Lorkhan’s voice echoed, and Nerevar found himself once more in the black, inky void, outside of the dreamsleeve. “I was a bit afraid you might not be able to handle it,” He chuckled softly, “But I can see it was silly of me to worry. You already remade the world, you’d be ready to handle the revelation of the tower.”

“Was that… You?” Nerevar questioned, wondering if Lorkhan took on the appearance of Dagoth Ur just to help him along.

“No. What was in fact a remnant of Dagoth Ur, based on your memories.”

“My memories?” Nerevar raised a brow, as the crumbling tower and soft grass slowly came back into focus around him, real and present once more. It was more comfortable than just free floating anyways.

“Things can’t exist if nothing remembers them.” Lorkhan explained. “But you remembered him, so he continued hiding and lurking…”

“Would he…” Nerevar began, apprehensively. “Would Voryn have become him again…?”

“No.” Lorkhan’s voice was firm and confident, making Nerevar relieved. “Your beloved has already rejected that path.”

“Then how could he exist?”

“He existed outside of Voryn. A part of him and also not. Perhaps in a way also part of you?” It was a confusing explanation, but Nerevar supposed that was in line with everything else so far. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t exist anymore--not as he did just now.” Lorkhan hummed softly again. “Now he’s merely a memory, returned to water once more.”

“I… Don’t understand.” Once again, Lorkhan reached over to pinch Nerevar’s cheek.

“Yes you do, don’t lie to me about that.”

“I mean I get that he’s no longer a problem since I just saw him vanish but I don’t… Know how I did that.”

“He was mostly tied to you. It would have been very easy for anyone in those circumstances to cut him off.” Lorkhan clicked his tongue. “Then again, I suppose not everyone can be connected to the dreamsleeve and confront not existing as well as you did.”

“So I don’t exist?” It was a question, but not asking for an answer more so a confirmation that he was understanding it correctly.

“You don’t. And yet, you do.” Lorkhan confirmed, before elaborating. “All of us exist in that state. But I made Nirn in the first place because I realized it was impossible to move beyond that revelation and actually do something about it without real growth--growth that can only come from trial.”

“... What?” Now he was losing Nerevar. Go beyond the revelation of not existing? How would you even move past something like that?

“Dagoth Ur had a few things correct I’ll admit.” Lorkhan continued, almost rambling now given how little it made sense to Nerevar. “The trial of flesh is needed to overcome the dream…”

“Again, I don’t really understand.” Nerevar interjected, before Lorkhan sighed.

“Ah… Right. I’m getting ahead of myself.” He then reached over, pulling Nerevar into a hug once more. “We don’t have all day, unfortunately. Linear time still exists.” He gave Nerevar’s back a firm pat. “I would explain if I could but… Well, we’d be here for some time. I think your beloved is calling you.” A ringing was in Nerevar’s ears now, the rest of the dream getting fuzzier and fuzzier.

“Voryn…?” Nerevar asked, before his eyes cracked open.

He wasn’t in the grass, but laying on Voryn’s cot, blinking up in a confused daze. It was night, that he could tell from how dark it was in the tent. Beside him, he heard a gasp, as Voryn looked to him frantically.

“Oh thank gods,” Voryn looked close to tears. “Nerevar, do you have any idea how worried I was?” He cupped Nerevar’s cheek, his hand warm and familiar. It felt like Nerevar had been away for ages and also hardly any time at all. “I thought I almost lost you again…”

“I’m alright,” Nerevar sat up slowly, but his arms felt weak. “How long was I out for…?”

“More than a day.” Voryn explained, before helping support Nerevar’s upper body, settling Nerevar to lean against him. “Nothing we did could wake you up. We wanted to raze that damn orc camp to the ground,” He could hear the anger in Voryn’s voice. “But Malacath said his people would assist us and that you would wake up in time.”

Nerevar could tell Voryn hadn’t believed the prince--not after what seemed like an attack on Nerevar.

“I’m fine now.” Nerevar insisted, stroking Voryn’s face. “I’m--”

“Is he awake?” Vivec asked from outside the tent, and Voryn stiffened under Nerevar’s weight.

“He just woke up--” Voryn began, “Give him a few minutes to regain his senses before you shake him down for answers.”

Vivec entered the tent now, his brow furrowed. “You swore I could ask my questions when he awoke.”

“At least give him until the morning.” Voryn pleaded. Vivec looked between the two of them, and it seemed that Nerevar looked haggard enough for Vivec to relent, though he was unhappy about doing so.

“Fine,” Vivec scowled, leaving the tent once more. “In the morning I want answers.”

#wip #my writing #moon and star #moon and star spoilers #nerevoryn #indoril nerevar #nerevar #voryn dagoth

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bunnakit · 6 months

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last twilight ep 5 thoughts feelings etc.

eyy actually watched this earlier and rewatching it, so things should be a little less feral and unhinged. actually took notes my first watch through as well (wtf am i doing)

once again i love how stories are our constant companions in this show. i love how they keep playing with the parallels between worlds, it's one of my absolute favorite things in storytelling.

i love the fact that day is now 'invisible' in the world of badminton but he can still experience all of the joy of the game by supporting his friends. badminton was such a big part of his life and he doesn't have to leave it all behind, he just experiences it a little differently now.

film is so fucking pretty even covered in 'sweat.' i do love the show let her be 'sweaty' and disheveled instead of having perfect hair and make up after what was clearly a hard game. GIVE ME SWEATY WOMEN. (god im so gay)

so i said it last week but the only time we've ever seen mhok be violent is when he's been protecting the people close to him. (his garage bro, porjai x 2, etc) and we see him ready to do it again when august confronts day. there is no doubt in my mind that mhok was fully prepared to bury that bitch for even daring to make day the slightest bit afraid.

and god how scary does that have to be? you can't see, you're already nervous to be here, and suddenly someone is shouting at you - and maybe you don't recognize them at first because you haven't heard their voice in over a year but all you know is they're coming closer and they're so angry. i can't imagine anything scarier than that.

ahh, a broken picture frame representing a broken bond, an absolute classic metaphor. an oldie but a goodie.

once again i love that we see day's rage. anger really is such a big part of coming to terms with being disabled. i got some bad news a few weeks ago about my own disease and i've spent the last few weeks so angry and frustrated and then just sad. it's such a complex journey and the show is doing an absolutely brilliant job of showing that.

i do owe day's family a small smidgen of an apology since day is the one that asked it to be kept a secret, HOWEVER, i do think that conversation should have been revisited after a fucking year. how long were they just going to let him live in isolation? like cool for respecting his agency, not cool for letting him waste away in a tomb of his own making.

FINALLY WE GET MHOK OPENING UP.

so here's the thing with mhok. i love him. no - the real thing is i see so much of myself in him. my friends and family constantly get frustrated with me because i will never tell them when something is wrong or when i'm shouldering a lot of emotions about something. when i got the bad news about my disease i hid in my office and cried at my desk and then cleaned myself up and pretended nothing happened. fuck, i feel like i understand mhok on such a deep level.

not to get too into it but my own habits stem from neglect in my formative years, and i have to wonder if mhok's behavior maybe stems from his isolation in prison? oftentimes people with these behavior patterns will self isolate, either deal with or bury their emotions, and then emerge back into their friend group as if nothing happened. (am i talking about myself again? shhh.) mhok didn't really have a choice - sure you can write letters, have visitors, but a large part of his day was probably handling his grief in solitude. he's probably gotten so good at "handling it" and pushing everything down and dealing with everything in silence that he doesn't know how to handle it any other way now.

to make things worse, it happened over a year ago. he probably feels like he should be "over it" and not make it a big deal. maybe i'm projecting just a smidge (just a lot) but i do think it's something interesting to keep in mind. either way, him finally talking about rung to day is fucking MASSIVE, both for their relationship and mhok's emotional wellbeing.

august is fucking king of mixed signals and i don't super like that he looked for mhok's permission to lead day through the court. why the fuck are you looking at mhok when you could just ask day? if you look closely, as mhok is letting go day curls his fingers around the hand that mhok uses to remove his hand from his arm.

i do love we see mhok pushing day a little more out of his comfort zone as he did in earlier episodes.

porjai is so fucking pretty. is there anything more attractive than a woman in shorts and an oversized band tee? no. no there is not.

and again we see how much time and effort mhok has put into being day's caretaker - and his friend. he did research and learned methods that would make dining out easier for day. i love him so much! i don't know how day could still be thinking about august after that adorable little date.

UGH OKAY SO. HERE'S WHERE WE GET INTO MY BIG FEELINGS.

in my opinion, the theme of this episode has been "being late." here's why.

the boys were very nearly, or were, late to gee's badminton game

you could consider mhok 'late' to tell day about rung

day thinks he's too late to confess to august

mhok realizes he's come into day's life too late to receive his affection

and then we have august's literal late arrival (i still dont know what fucking game this jackass is playing)

this also ties in to a little trend i've been noticing in regards to mhok that oftentimes he's too late in life.

he was too late to save rung, and learned of her death late

he was too late to receive the mechanic job as it had 'already been given to someone else'

he was a late arrival to the interview to become day's caretaker

and again, he's entered day's life too late to receive his affection (or so he thinks)

i genuinely don't know if this is intentional, but i think it's something interesting to draw connections to.

anyway, again, i dont know what the fuck august's deal is but i can tell you if i was day i'd be getting over my feelings for him real fucking quick. i don't super like that august shows up, hears about day's feelings, and asks mhok to keep his being there a secret - but i do understand it and i do understand mhok's side of things. i don't think he does it out of his own selfishness, i think rather he realizes august likely doesn't return day's affection and letting him think august didn't show up is possibly the kinder of the two scenarios. (my only hope is we don't see august return and try to woo day or something later with this knowledge)

i do love that mhok stayed. he was concerned and it might seem a little overbearing but day was clearly nervous for this outing and all in all it's good that he stayed. and then he made sure to salvage the evening for day and take him out on a proper date. maybe it's not the date day wanted but it looks like he had a great time (perhaps even a better time) spending a day with someone he could relax and be himself around.

flowers have so many different meanings across cultures and tbh i'm far to tired to dig into the thai meaning of hydrangeas (if there are any) but i do think hydrangeas are neat. this is prob common knowledge but the color of hydrangea petals is determined by the ph balance in the soil they're grown in. (blue hydrangeas grow in soil with a ph balance of 5.2-5.5, far more in the base range than red hydrangeas that grow in a ph balance of 6.0-6.2, and once the soil reaches acidic levels it tends to produce pink flowers) i guess maybe if you wanted you could draw a connection to how malleable mhok is becoming and how his environment is changing him.

scientifically, sunflowers are also an interesting flower because they are often used to heal damaged and irradiated soil. they're so fucking resilient and help heal the world around them. i think there's a lot of connections we can make there with both mhok and day, regardless of flower symbolism and going purely on science.

anyway sorry to be a science nerd.

that's all ive really got for this episode, i say, as if i have not written you all a novel. this show continues to make me feel so much and tickle my brain in such a delightful way. between this and moonlight chicken p'aof has definitely made me a fan for life.

tag loves: @benkaaoi | @callipigio | @lookwhatihave (once again pls always feel free to lmk if you want to be added or removed)

#bunn meta #last twilight #last twilight the series #mhokday #ltts meta

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thyqueerblueberry · 1 year

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roman roy and fleabag parallels

hi. so, the worms in my brain got a little (very) out of hand and this post is a result of it👍

let's talk about the line "i dont know what to do with all the love i have for her i dont know where to put it." fleabag as a character is deeply, incredibly flawed. she's broken, depressed, self-destructive; i could go on and on. to me, the show was essentially about love and grief and being able to find support in the people around you, and coming to terms with the fact that there are in fact, people that love you and that you deserve to be loved. fleabag thinks she's "greedy, perverted, selfish, apathetic, cynical and depraved" and yeah, she is, but she's also trying her damned best to get through life goddamit. roman, my precious failbaby, my son, he literally thinks of himself as unlovable, thinks he deserves being hit because he's "annoying." the core of roman's self-hate stems from the abuse he suffered as a child (and continues to), all those years that he spent trying to please a father who thought there was something wrong with him. he's a cruel, evil guy (first time we see that on screen was the baseball game where he promised that kid 1 mil and then proceeded to tear the cheque in front of his eyes) and yeah, he too, is "greedy, perverted, selfish, apathetic, cynical and depraved."

"i think you know how to love better than any of us that's why you find it all so painful." phoebe waller-bridge why would you do this to me. do i even have to elaborate on this line? fleabag holds so much love in her she doesn't know what to do with it she wants to be loved but doesn't want to go through the terrible ordeal of being known, of being seen, her boyfriend literally told her "don't make me hate you, loving you is hard enough as it is", the priest's speech on love, his decision to choose to stay or leave her and he chose the former !!!! her relationship with her sister, how claire loves her but doesn't see her, not the way the priest did. just. yeah. rome. he has so, so much love to give. i think out of all the characters on succ, he's the one vulnerable enough to say something like "i don't know dad, love?" like??? and that scene where he asks greg to get him one of logan's sweater, something that smells like him?? how he's the one who initiates hugs?? "hey can we do the hug-y thing"??????????? ARHJHJEFKHDFS im not going to elaborate on the love he has for logan or his siblings bc there are sooo many posts that do it better than i could, but essentially, just like fleabag, roman wants to be loved but he doesn't think of himself as deserving of it.

their relationship with sex. it's so different but also not?? my friend phrased it for me so im just going to paste that over here (my fave part about this is the fact that they literally haven't watched succession but figured all this out from whatever i've told them HAH)

feel free to interact w this post and elaborate on this more!!

how they blame themselves for the death of the person they loved (logan and boo), although in rome's case it's kinda funny in a tragic way if him calling logan a cunt is what killed logan.

how they use humor as a coping mechanism, how they deal with guilt.

something something their relationship with their sibling/s too.

and that is all for today, thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#succession #fleabag #long post #dya speaks #roman roy #logan roy #kendall roy #shiv roy #connor roy #succession spoilers #succession season 4

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borathae · 1 year

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IM REALLY SORRY FOR THE LONG ASS ASK JDKDKDKDKKSJSJSKSKDKDKDKKS I normally write them in my notes app because tumblr hates me and the app closes randomly sometimes so I didn’t even notice it was THAT long jskskskkskls AND I had so much to catch up with! Again I’m sorry jskskskksks

But now I come to scream about the new chapter! Oh Sibi I knew that I would come back here to eat my words regarding Tae and Jimin at some point but I didn’t know it would be so soon for Tae, he went from being past the red line to being on the yellow one with me cause I’m still a little wary about the fact that he can still fuck up again, but I really hope it doesn’t happen, for real all I want for him is to be happy with the people he loves and care about, he deserves happiness after everything 😔 and I love seeing him interact with Yoongi in a non violent? or cold way 😭 like yes please talk about things, like Tae said, they are in love with the same woman they should at least try to get along for her now that he’s trying to be better 🥺 I get Yoongi too tho he almost killed the love of his life so I would be wary too, BUT we are going in the right direction now at least with Tae 🥳 I do have a question, will Jimin get a redemption arc too to the point that we get to like his annoying ass? Or he will only get to be tolerable? Hope it’s the first one tho 😂

Also I cried when they were talking about Yoongi wanting to be mortal again, (please wrap this tiny man in lots of warm blankets and give him kisses he deserves all the love in the world 😭😭😭😭) I kid you not I was as affected by it as Tae, I’m on his side, I understand our prince but please not, I can’t bare the though of him dying from grief or the though of him dying of old age with OC because what about the others? What about Kookie? Maybe it’s selfish on my part but I truly want them all to be happy together for eternity 🥺 but I guess that choice will fall on our OC when the time comes…

Oh and I think that using the blade to turn Namjoon mortal would be the biggest fuck you to him and the biggest punishment considering how lowly he thinks of humans, what better punishment than turn him into what he despises and thinks is the lowest form of life 😎

And I had an idea, maybe it’s very dumb but here it goes… the gang can grab the “Magnus Vasistas” book, change the cover (without opening the book of course, maybe even with magic?) for one that relates to something that Namjoon would find interesting, since he loves reading, somehow leave it were he could find it, so he opens the book, gets sucked into the void and problem solved! jskskkskskhsjs

And the lore??!!!!! What do you mean Yoongi Boongi was a warlock?! Sibi that’s so hot of him jsjajajksksk I had the same reaction to that piece of lore that I had to you hinting that Jin was Jack the Ripper in SA sjakksksksksksksksksk can you tell us something regarding vampire lore that you really want us to know but it’s not in the story please? I would love to know more but don’t know what to ask!

Anyways I LOVED this chapter and how wholesome it was for our both boys I’m glad they are getting on better terms with each other, and that there’s hope for a much better relationship and understanding between them 🥺 and I hope our oc is ok, I’m worried about her 🥺

That’s for now Sibi, I can’t wait for the next chapter!

-Shy anon

Don't apologise for long asks! I love every asks you guys send me no matter how long or short it is heheheh 😔💜

for real all I want for him is to be happy with the people he loves and care about, he deserves happiness after everything 😔 and I love seeing him interact with Yoongi in a non violent? or cold way 😭

YES GOSH me too :( istfg he deserves all the happiness and friendship heheeh

I do have a question, will Jimin get a redemption arc too to the point that we get to like his annoying ass? Or he will only get to be tolerable? Hope it’s the first one tho 😂

Yes Jimin will get a redemption arc fajdsjf I am attempting to make you guys like him with it afjasdjf like I do want this lil bitch to be liked at the end HAHHAHAH

I kid you not I was as affected by it as Tae, I’m on his side, I understand our prince but please not, I can’t bare the though of him dying from grief or the though of him dying of old age with OC because what about the others? What about Kookie? Maybe it’s selfish on my part but I truly want them all to be happy together for eternity 🥺

same same same :( istfg just thinking that Yoongus Boongus could die one day rips me apart 😭😭😭

RIGHT?? I think so too fadjfaj that would honestly be such a fuck you to him fandfda

Right??? That's what I was thinking too 👀 the problem with this book though is that the spell is reversible. You just gotta know the right spell and then you can drag whoever is captured in it back out again. So if Joon has some evil witches on his side, all they have to do is do their lil magic and he is free again 😩 Time does pass differently in it though. One second in the real world feels like one month of agony in the book. So yeah honestly? It would still be a punishment in the end fajdfj

THANK YOU OMFMGMG I LOVE THAT YOU LOVE IT SO MUCH EHHEHEH I honestly love working on lore mgmgmmgmg there will also be more regarding Jinnie coming very soon *cough* today *cough* ohoohoho

As far as lore is concerned mhhm I don't really know because I tried to include everything that was lore related mhhm 🤔 maybe the fact that Namjoon was the best in anything that had to do with thinking whilst Yoongi was best in manual classes. Joon was always found copying spells out of books in the most beautiful handwriting and sometimes you even found him trying to think of new spells. While Yoongi was always best in putting the magic into action. Imagine it like this, Joon is going all like "I thought of something. What if you tried to mix this herb with this herb and then chant these words?" while Yoongi was all like "yes, I will try" and together they tried out the new spell. Many times it ended up with them failing and getting dirtied by a failed spell, but sometimes they were succesfull which resulted in them reporting to their teacher and getting praise.

Ah yes and then magic education would have taken ten years to finish. They started it when Yoongi was seventeen and Joon was still sixteen, but ended it just a few months after Yoongi hit his twenty fifth year. By that I mean that is when they went too far and their teacher cursed them rip to them ahfadhf

OMGMG THAT LORE JUST MADE ME SO EXCITED OMGMGM I hope lots of people read it because it's really important hehehehhe

#asks: magnus venatio #asks #shy anon #hcs: sanguis duology

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storyteller-aprendiz · 1 year

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So we do get that what Heart's parents did to him was totally awful right.

Because like Heart didn't had to only grapple with the grief of losing his hearing, he had to grapple with the grief of losing his whole world (because of his parents).

Like, the fatherfuckers cut him off from his support system (friends, family, themselves, teachers etc.) when he needed it most.

And also it doesn't help that his parents are fucking ableist? And didn't thought to deconstruct their ableism now that they have a disable child?

I understand why Heart was such an asshole to Li Ming. Is it okay? No. (Especially considering the power dynamics at play of li ming being in his house). But I understand it.

Like its astonishing how despite it all. He was able to move on with his disability without the help of basically no one but the internet. And how he doesn't seem to have any internalized ableism?

Also (this comes from the fact of ignorance, and probably not having a deaf person on set but) deaf people that lose their hearing later in life can talk sort-of less like hearing people -except with new words they never heard and stuff. And yet Heart, in a power move, was to his parents: hell, im NOT going to communicate in your terms, you cut me from the world, now be ready for me to cut you from me (unless you learn thai sing language). Amazing.

However he didn't get unscathed from the fuckery of his parents.

Not in like "I'm deaf, life has no meaning." More in like a frustrated kind of way of, fuck no one treats me like a human being, until Li Ming comes around and he latches onto him. So much so, that he even says thanks to li ming for treating him like "normal".

And also maybe alcohol?

Like with his voice, drinking is a form of rebellion against Heart's parents, even if they don't know it.

And it's funny and disconcerting how the first time Heart invites Li Ming to do something with him (is not to watch a movie) but to drink. And also I love Li Ming and he's whole stance on alcohol- especially because he's a teenager and the stereotipe all they want to do is get drunk.

Does this means Heart has an addiction? Probably no because once he founds friendship he all but forgets about it. But considering the fact that he went through inmense grief, has not support system, is alone for most part of the day, and uses alcohol as a way to cope/fight back against his situation, and knows full well he won't suffer any (or a lot of consequences) he must have a tricky and complex relationship with drinking.

TLDR; Heart has gone through a lot for being as "stable" as he appears to be.

#moonlight chicken #heart #li ming

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caseyogdenart · 2 years

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CONTENT WARNING: SELF HARM

For week 4: Text and Image, I wanted to get a bit personal with my thoughts, beliefs, motivations and avolitions.

For my first idea i thought of having two naked people holding hands above the centre of the page, heads leaning away from each other with a leg bowed each in opposite directions and other hands outstretched in a dance like pose. Their faces would be hanging off and their outstretched hand also having its skin coming off, with the words "We are Naught but Meat". While it is a disturbing thought, i find it quite a sobering one in an acceptance of life and death sort of way. Its almost as if it relieves pressure from what i do and as i mention in previous weeks, i have problems with putting too much pressure on myself, so if im nothing but meat then whats stopping me from enjoying my time before i begin to rot. The idea for this came from a Youtuber called nyx fears, I blame her for my current mental state in a positive way because listening to her talk about horrendous things feels like a collective grief of the ways we used to think. While i don't reccomend watching her talk about disturbing media, she has many horror movie reviews that i can reccomend.

For my final idea (shown below) it came from a spur of the moment epiphany that i can translate any negative emotions i am feeling in the moment into drawing. At the time of making this piece i had the urge to hurt myself more than i have done in years and it felt unbearable. The drawings i created captures the emotion of wanting to cut (personally). It is graphic and i imagine triggering to others who have dealt with self harm but it felt so freeing to let confront my demons so to speak.

For the first drawing I added the sentence "Our Emotions Get the Better of us Sometimes, Thats Human" as i am a firm believer in humanity in a personal sense. I believe everything people do is a part of coming to terms with our own existence and sometimes we let our emotions and personal lives bleed into our professional work (as signified posthumously with this piece and critically looking at my own raw feelings). People cope in different ways, some more healthy than others, but i also believe that humans as a species is not well equipped with the crushing weight that sentience brings and because of this i hope that we can come to accept each other.

The addition of the "thoughts, beliefs, motivations and avolitions." on the second drawing came about during my idea generation of what i wanted to say going out of hand and creating so many sentences that resonated with me, so i recorded all of them with another reflection of my own self harming thoughts.

And finally i wanted to finish on a quick positive note with the inclusion of the thing thats currently bringing me the most joy, some cheap breast forms i purchased with the words "a lifeline takes many forms" which is an unintentional play on words, it was only a quick drawing but it helped calm me down after letting out my emotions for a few hours so i thought i would include it in my final submission.

Due to it being so personal, the topic of mental health means a lot to me. So the last thing i want others to take away from these drawings is shock value, i do not wish to offend anyone with this depiction. This is a personal piece so i understand if this is upsetting to others and thats also okay. This was my personal way of coping and i thought that capturing and immortalising itself to me as one of the first things i submitted to my falmouth course, an important piece of me that i can finally externalise after years of feeling constricted While i don't think i have properly put how much this piece means to me in words i am proud of the fact that i made it. (Also i used pen in my art for the first time, its permanence scares me).

Completed 14th October 2022

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personshapedsplder · 2 years

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Ok writing a new ending for that book:

I kind of want the kids to be monstrous somehow? They end up being I think ghosts? It was incomprehensible. But I'd rather they be like, manifestations of morgans shitty childhood, so maybe their presence is hurting him somehow but he's obviously determined to save them. I dont generally like the scary child trope, and I don't think the kids are evil, but I'd like them to be creatures of some sort that are somehow causing morgan more grief.

I need some more scares. I want the scary pregnant doll in the closet to walk, and I want morgan to have to fight it, bc it's so obviously a weird thing abt his mother. So I want him to kill the pregnant doll. Maybe it attacks the kids and he has to defend them.

He has to fuck doctor crane. 🤷‍♂️ need I go on.

I want to explore the parallels between him and his mom more. Both of them deal with beauty/ugliness so differently I think it's fascinating. I don't need morgan to accept his body perfectly, but I do need him to actually grapple with it in a way thats meaningful. It destroyed his life, he gets to feel mad abt it. Let him be mad abt it!!

Speaking of morgans body, cut the magical mask bit. It was painfully on the nose. Subtlety is an artform.

Morgans mom is the bad guy in this book, hands down. I don't know why she never comes back as a ghost or he never fights her in proxy like with the pregnant doll, but he needs to. He needs to be able to hate her.

I'm not opposed to talking abt morgans family money or his place in a capitalist society or whatever. Like we all agree he benefits from that and that's another complex part of his family "legacy." But the fact that the book pivots suddenly into ONLY being abt that was weird as fuck. That should be used to support the family drama storyline bc frankly, bless the authors soul, he has nothing interesting to say abt capitalism. It was very very bland and it was a weird, dramatic change in tone.

And in the end either morgan comes to terms w his bad family life and saves the kids or his grief takes him down and he dies trying to save them. I'd be happy either way.

OK NOW IM DONE TALKINF ABT THIS STUPID BOOK

#you cant wave a family drama abt a guy who lives alone in a big house in front of me and fhen take it away #you cant do it #this guy was Celan 2.0 #morgan 🤝 celan #and theyre shaking hands over living alone in a giant house and thinking theyre ugly or monstrous #theyre also both gay #they also both have bad family backstories #theyre like practically the same character #except celan is actually allowed to get pissed and morgan's storyline just falls off

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captainstarkky · 3 years

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Doom at Your Service - An Appreciation Post

Before starting this lengthy post about how I love this drama, I would just like to commend the writer - Im Meari. She has done a wonderful job with this series. I am sad that Episode 10, which was supposed to be the most meaningful episode - had the lowest ratings in Korean media. But still the whole drama as a while was a masterpiece. What can I say? It is philosophical and poetic at the same time. It entails too many meanings and it has born too many questions.

For me, the whole series is the journey to acceptance.

And Myeol Mang represents that.

When we are faced with an imminent death or destruction, our first reaction is to get angry, frustrated. That’s a normal emotional response to a bad news for humans. If you are in the right head, you will obviously cry or either space out, unable to talk for a few minutes. That is how we get frustrated, that is how we get angry.

And remember what Myul Mang said?

“No one could love me. Everyone either resent me or wants me. Or some fear me.”

It roughly translates to layterm as: ‘...everyone resents me’ (no one wants to die) “...wants me” (some wants to die)... “or some fear me.” (everyone is afraid to die)

That’s quite familiar, right? Hmmm? Now proceed.

Now there is actually a theory that talks about grief. It is a psychological construct that has been proposed to explain why people react the way they react when posed with an information they can’t accept. It is a theory of Elizabeth Ross. She called it the 5 Stages of Grief.

According to her, whenever people experience a life changing event - either death, divorce, end of relationship - a person experiences grief and to get out of that, one needs to pass through stages. It is personal and does not entail timelines and schedule - which is harder for someone who has a terminal illness.

Now, some of you might ask: Why and how did you correlate both?

Simple. Because Myeol Mang is destruction. And Tak Dongkyung is dying - she has three months to live, to be specific, she has 50 days to live as of the 10th episode. Therefore, we can say that Tak Dongkyung is currently in this five stages that I’m talking about.

The story is all about Tak Dongkyung accepting his faith: which is her inevitable death.

By the way, a bit of a trivia, Doom at Your Service wasn’t the only drama who discussed this theory. If you are familiar with Last Romance, the story centers with the theory as well.

There are five stages of grief as per the theory.

Denial

Denial is the stage where a person still cannot accept the fact that he/she is dying. She may be redirecting her attention elsewhere or she’s just ignoring the fact that she is.

Actually before episode 10, Tak DongKyung is still in the spectrum of denial. She doesn’t accept the fact that she’s dying. Not talking about it is the indication. She prepares to die - writes a bucketlist, clear out whatever is holding her in the world, assures her brother, etc. - but in reality, she doesn’t want to die. She is still in the process of denying the fact that she is dying.

She is basically pushing the idea of Myung Mang to the back of her mind.

That’s why, Myul Mang wants her to speak it out. He wants her to accept it with all her heart; because that’s the only way she could fully love him.

That is also the reason why the Deity told her to LOVE HIM ‘because I created them for you, humans.’

You’re not supposed to hate death and destruction. Because in the end of everything, we are doomed to end anyway. So we got to accept it. We got to love it.

Denial is probably the hardest stage to get over to because you know that there is still a lot you can do before you finally accept it out. That’s probably the reason why she stayed there for the longest time.

Anger

Anger is when you finally considers the idea of dying - but rejects it out. No one wants to die. And if we are faced with the fact, it is only natural to get angry. But to whom?

Tak Dongkyung hated Myul Mang. And she actually makes her point on this fact during the early episodes.

She blames him for everything - for a moment.

She might’ve been thinking: why me? And honestly I don’t blame her. Out of all the 7 billion people, you are chosen to have a hundred days to live. If I was her, I would get angry too.

But a little food for the mind: Tak Dongkyung isn’t really angry at Myul Mang. She just want to blame someone for her misfortunes, for her cancer. I mean, she is still young and has a full life to live, she still has to take care of her brother and marry him off a good woman, then all of a sudden, she got cancer. All those plans ruined just because of a few words. And a cocky guy shows up outside her apartment announcing that he’s doom - etce tera, etce tera. Again, If I was her, I would be angry at Myul Mang myself.

Because anger helps us cope.

Although she’s pass that stage now, she certainly have his fair points when it comes to getting angry at our Doom.

Bargaining

Bargaining is a temporary truce. We want our life back so we tend to do everything to get it back. Even if we have to bargain with a demon or something. Some people goes back to their faith, some people risk all their possessions to their doctors. Bottomline, we want to have a chance. A fighting chance.

The second Tak Dongkyung entered the contract with Myul Mang, she already started bargaining.

She started thinking what could be her wish. Even if she never materialized them, she thought of them. So since we are talking about wishes, here are her possible wishes:

People would forget about her when she die.

Wanting to live

Happy Ending

For Myul Mang not to get hurt when she’s gone.

End of the world.

But isn’t the wish supposed to be directed to self?

No not necessarily. If you’re in the early stages of bargaining, it might be the case. But as you move to the later stages, your perspective changes and your wishes will center more on your loved ones. You will want them not to get sad when you pass; or good health for them; good fortune. And that will eventually lead you to the fourth stage - which is depression. Because you know that your wishes for them could never come true.

Depression

This is the interesting part.

What is depression? It is the feeling of immense hopelessness especially in her case that she is dying. The fact that your short life will not leave a mark and the fact that you won’t be able t see your loved ones again - that sadness - but to the greater length. To the point of you not being able to function properly in the society.

Where did the depression start? It did not even show in the whole series.

Oh no, it did.

This is the reason why this drama is for those people who can understand social cues - therefore, intelligent people. If you haven’t seen it then it’s a good time to rerun the drama on your laptops.

Tak Dongkyung has always been depressed. She wouldn’t wish the end of the world if she is not.

From the death of her parents, from the constant thoughts of being a burden to her aunt, from her missed interviews, from his brother stopping college, from her sexist boss, from her cheating ex, from her cancer. Everything is just depressing.

But why can’t we see it?

Depression is a psychological issue. She might present herself as a happy person but there’s no guarantee that she feels the same inside.

That makes sense.

And do you know what’s the peak of her depression? The moment she knew about her sickness.

The same day she met our handsome Myul Mang.

Acceptance

Acceptance is not necessarily a happy or uplifting stage, for it only means that you are finally in the stage where you have finally made terms with your fate. It is the stage where you’re staring to realize that ‘ah, it’s really here.’

And that, my friends, is the goal of the drama.

Tak Dongkyung who’s always scared, sad, and hated her life must accept it. She must be able to accept her fate and herself. She needs to accept Myul Mang. Her death.

And to be honest, she is making a whole lot of improvement compared to when she was on the previous episodes. She was truthfully falling for Myul Mang and it means that she’s slowly accepting her death.

We can hear her say:

“I’m not scared anymore...”

On the teaser after Episode 10. It can only mean one thing, she is a step closer to acceptance.

Tak Dongkyung’s journey to self-acceptance still is not ending. She still have a few more days.

Technically, she’ll die. But I hope she will not and she will end up with Myul Mang in the end.

With that I would like to make a point: This drama is for philosophical people.

If you cannot understand what is happening, then it’s obvious that you will not be watching it. If you want skinship and lots of cute scenes, then you can watch this - Seo In-guk and Park Bo-young serves us just enough - but you still won’t get it.

You’ll think that it’s going nowhere and eventually drop the drama because all you want is fluff and love story.

I hope it’s not like that.

Just like everyone who shares their thought and theories, breakdowns in here, let us try to read between the lines on what it really wants to tell us.

You will enjoy it, I promise.

#doom at your service #tvn doom at your service #seo in-guk #seo in guk #park bo young #park bo-young #tak dong kyung #tak dong-kyung #myeol mang #kdrama #kdrama conspiracy theories #conspiracy theories #kdrama theories #tvn

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sandayuswife · 3 years

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Hello! First i want to say im so happy to found your acc since you're discussing the mentality state of the Kirigakure siblings, Sandayu and Hanzo too! 🤧

Sec, can i request you write a psychoanalysis on Genya? Hehe😊

I wish your studies more success!

@nich-u Thank you so much! <3 I'm glad that the content pleases you:) Since psychoanalyses base on mental health alone, I've decided to write a broader analysis this time. This is going to be VERY long, and so fun to write!

Fujibayashi Genya: Mental health & Personality Analysis

So, we'll start by taking a deep look into his childhood and mental health, and lastly analyze his personality using the five factor model and a few additional criteria. Let's begin :)

At the beginning of his route, Genya is introduced as a laid-back, lazy shinobi with inscrutable motives. Gradually, we figure more and more of his demeanor being a mask, which he uses both as a coping mechanism as well as means to keep his feelings and motivations behind a veil.

Later on, we find out that it was his love for Sakuya and death of their mother that has forced Genya to change drastically – which is where we will start our digging.

Childhood & Mental health

Judging from the small pieces of chapters in which we see the Fujibayashi twins and MC interact in the past, as well as Genya’s statements, it is clear that the twins were neglected, yet unlikely emotionally abused. Adding to the stability of their psyche in the earliest years was their close relationship, and thus ability to replace the emotional care they sought from their parents.

Coming to the first event that forces Genya to change - At a still very young age, he witnesses his mother's death during an attack on the village. Not only did she fall while protecting him, but also, those following were her last words:

Assuming that it was most likely Genya’s first time openly receiving emotional care from his mother, and that the chief did not seem to care about her death (simply disposed of the body, apparently), the causes of the event resulted in PSTD, which became chronic for the rest of his life (as it is a common occurrence with children).

A short time after that, we are shown that Genya proceeds to focus all of his care and attention on Sakuya: Trains with him, renounces his own needs to let his twin have more options, and even motivates MC to grow closer to Sakuya, although it was somewhere implied that he himself was 'drawn to her sunny smile'.

Being able to do so and direct positive energy at someone he loves has helped Genya to cope with the incident, although he could not tell a soul about his mother’s last words - The knowledge would hurt his twin, In Genya’s opinion. Having to speculate about such outcomes, think many steps ahead, keep his feelings behind a lock, and due to possible symptoms of PSTD, Genya has matured quickly; and it was more than visible in his behavior.

Next, we know that the Mitsuba have betrayed Fujibayashi village as the twins were approximately 10 years old. A while after that, they had to accomplish a special, long-term mission in order to become fully-pledged shinobi. Beside the fact that he himself has suffered from his own (disposing of bodies ‘as if they were worthless’), he noticed how much suffering Sakuya’s mission has caused his twin. He understood that his brother will only be able to cope with the trauma if he was to run from his feelings.

Being Sakuya’s ‘childhood hero’, as Sakuya himself has stated, Genya knew that if he were to express negative opinions and feelings toward the village, his twin would break his own resolve and agree with him. Thinking their fate unvoidable, Genya has made a choice to break their connection by being the opposite of what a shinobi should be, but still protect and support Sakuya from the shadows.

Personality

Now let’s take a look at Genya’s personality in general, since until now, we have been only focusing on his family.

I will be using the five factor model, which has a scoring system, to do so, although we have to keep in mind that his trauma and personal experiences play big roles in these traits:

1. Openness to experience

Low score. Genya prefers routine, and is wary of uncertainty and the unknown. I have mentioned at the beginning that Genya uses his laid-back lifestyle as a coping mechanism - Independence and space give him an opportunity to breathe. However, he generally does not run from his feelings and is well aware of who and what he cares about.

2. Conscientiousness

High score. He is aware of his actions and their consequences, and has a sense of responsibility, regardless of how much he claims not to do so. Genya exhibits goal-oriented behavior every time it truly matters (grumbling aside). His missions are organized and practically executed.

3. Extroversion

Mid score. Genya is an ambivert (neither an introvert nor extravert). He enjoys being alone, thinking and reflecting, just as much as he enjoys socializing and meeting new people.

4. Agreeableness

High score. Genya is co-operative, and willing to help others in times of need. He respects hardworking individuals, dislikes being involved in arguments, seeks internal and external state of peace. Levels of agreeableness tend to increase with age.

5. Neuroticism

Low score. Genya is able to remain calm in response to stressful situations, and view problems in proportion to their importance. As a result, he tends to worry about such problems to a lesser extent. Of course, this excludes extreme situations, like losing a loved one (in regard to his frustration in the route endings).

Since the model does not cover all that can be interpreted, let’s add a few more criteria:

6. Behavior

Genya tries to cover up many of his positive traits with a mask of a lazy, money-grubbing and disrespectful shinobi, as we all well know. Doing so leaves him more freedom, forces others to lower their expectations, and allows him to expectantly sidestep minor duties in case of an emergency. This, of, course, serves his goals and routines very well.

7. Morality

Genya has a deep understanding and a broad view of the world. He understands the role of each person, that every individual is shaped by the environment, and while he naturally opposes to being a shinobi, he does not proceed to immediately judge or dislike someone of his own kind, although doing otherwise would be a much easier task.

This could be explained by his world-view as well. He mentions that he is ‘like a bird in a cage’, and the same could most likely be said of all shinobi, in his opinion. Because he views the shadows as a place of grief, there is a chance he is less consumed by guilt for killing those who share his origins.

So, I've written a ton, and could write a ton more. There truly is so much more I could address, but I can always write a second part in case particular questions rise, so let me know:) Also, feel free to comment your opinion or something you would add!

Have a great day<3

-A

#slbp #samurai love ballad party #fujibayashi genya #slbp genya #voltage inc #psychology

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c0rpseductor · 2 years

Text

the dark knight questline in ffxiv is everything for real.

its probably rich of me bc i hate fucking Marvel B-Side Tv Show of The Week for using the “DID as a wild gimmick” character but like. im just obsessed with it. i really feel like it does a good job at getting across some of the complicated emotions that come with it and how it can feel relating to parts. and i think it works narratively because it’s a video game and because it’s the player character who’s having the DID-like experience. it’s not framed as you watching someone with DID, it’s framed as You(r character) going through it.

obviously it doesnt touch on the Symptoms but i don’t care. i feel like it’s good because it shows interactions between dissociated parts in a way that (minus magic bullshit) feels familiar and that doesn’t demonize the role any particular part has in managing the traumatic experiences central to the wol’s journey as a dark knight. it means a LOT to me that the first part you encounter as a DRK is a highly persecutory part who experiences HUGE amounts of anger, but it’s also explicitly explained that that part acts the way they do bc they exist to protect the player character, and bc they hold the feelings of being hurt and exploited that the player character has compartmentalized and dissociated from.

i havent finished the questline but i HAVE been spoiled and know where it’s going (which is fine with me) wrt myste and i’m liking that even though myste is a more sort of like, “i deal with grief and guilt and trauma-related sadness” type part, there’s still some friction and resentment there. i like that even though it’s clear what dissociated experiences and emotions the wol’s parts are linked up to, there’s still breathing room with their characterization that makes sense for that function - like myste apparently resenting the PC for continually putting them all in positions that cause further trauma to every part in aggregate, and fray deciding to cooperate with the PC (which actually makes a lot of sense for a persecutory part, since a lot of persecutory behavior from dissociated parts in DID is on some level maladapted protective behavior).

ive said it a zillion times but it is very important to me emotionally and like. i feel that it’s a very compassionate and heartfelt approach to portraying a DID-like experience. it’s certainly genuine enough that i forgive it for being not particularly accurate to real life in terms of, like, the fact that the parts in the player’s case are more magic than psychological and therefore there’s none of the other typical symptomology like comorbid ptsd or memory loss. honestly with what it’s trying to do narratively i feel like that kind of stuff is ancillary to the point anyway; it’s really way more about the relationships and interactions between parts and how that ultimately relates to overcoming trauma. it’s strong to me because it also works in a metaphorical sense that people without dissociative disorders would understand, so it’s immediately like, “if you empathized with this character and understood this quest you can have a little bit of insight into this particular aspect of DID.”

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halfway-through-insanity · 2 years

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Febuwhump 2022!

Hey guys! its been way too long! I’ve been dealing with a whole ton of life shit like moving, starting a job, quitting that job, deep depresso and then a new job. whew i literally have not been able to do anything i used to find enjoyable for like...months. This is me finally finding something that brings joy to my emptiness so not only will i be trying to complete this month for your entertainment but for my sanity and to prove that i do in fact still have hobbies :)

Anyways uh yeah these will be mostly Linked Universe one shots and I will do my best to do all 28 but damn im bad at commitment so we get where we get. There will probably be some BotW stand alone ones sprinkled in.

This will be cross posted on AO3, so go here if you wanna read it on there instead. It may be more consistent on ao3 if im being honest. Depending on the feedback i get on here, i may just post solely on there.

Day one: Head Injury/ “I dreamt you were alive” under the cut

Head Wound/ “I Dreamt You Were Alive”

In Wild’s opinion, Time’s bedside manner was a little…lacking. The elder was knelt beside Wild as the others set up camp, his grumbling fading in and out of Wild’s perception as he nursed Wild’s nasty blow to the head from earlier.

The Chain had just recovered a few days ago from their most recent encounter with…whatever it was that seemed to be the shape-shifting ring leader of the dark blooded monsters. Well, Wild absently winced- either from the splitting pain or from bringing up that memory (or both) - perhaps “recovered” wasn’t the best term. No one has recovered and personally, he doesn’t think he ever will. Their broken team dragged themselves out of the deep chasm of grief so that they could keep moving, hoping to get closer to putting an end to this whole nightmare. It wasn’t long before they ran into a horde of cursed moblins, which on any other occasion would have been a chore. But each one of them had an overwhelming need to blow off steam, so the monsters were a welcome distraction. As that battle wore on, morale lowered steadily, each hero getting more and more into their own heads and following darker thoughts. Their previous loss the day before had become even more apparent as they noticed the hole in their well-practiced battle formation.

Wild had caught himself more than once sweeping his eyes over the battle and panicking when he only counted seven companions. Each time he had to stop himself, it was like a punch to the gut.

There was only ever going to be seven others from now on.

At one point in the battle, Wild felt rage flare up as once more he remembered the loss and once more he felt helpless to change anything. He had just downed his third moblin when he checked how the others were faring. Everyone seemed to be holding their own, Wind seeming to be the only one needing help. The moblins saw him as the most vulnerable (their mistake) so they ganged up on him the most. For the most part Wind had it under control- until wild saw a stray moblin charge at the distracted teen from behind, club raise.

No one else is going to die, Wild hissed to himself and sprinted to his companion. He was almost too late and he watched the heavy club come down with immense force. Wild hurled himself over the final few strides that still separated him from Wind, slashing his sword out preemptively so he would land a blow while he knocked Wind out of the way. It worked and he got there in time, but not without that club connecting with his skull with a crack.

Everything immediately went blank. He didn’t register Wind’s cry of distress or calls from Warriors over the battlefield. It was just…nothing.

His friends had finished up the battle and had brought him to a safe clearing where they set up camp and mended their various wounds.

Now Wild had begun to dip in and out of consciousness, walking that hazy knife’s edge between reality and the unpredictable void of the unconscious. He thinks he’s currently conscious as he peers up through squinted eyes at the Old Man dabbing a potion-soaked cloth onto his head. The sensation was dampened, barely noticeable- a faint buzz at the edge of his perception as the potion stung his open flesh. He watched Time’s furrowed brow deepen as Wild absently batted at the persistent hand at his forehead.

“Sit still, kid,” Time grumbled and forced Wild’s hand back down to his side. Immediately, Wild’s feeble hand rose up once more, pushing Time’s arm away. Time let out a huff that initially sounded disgruntled, but Wild thought he heard the Old Man restrain a tone of amusement behind it. “You’re a dreadful patient.” Once more, Wild’s arm was forced down to his side, this time, he gathered, it was pinned under one of Time’s knees.

Wild intended to respond with a witty “Well, you’re a dreadful doctor,” but through the thick fog of his brain, he wasn’t sure how much of it was actually intelligible. He heard Time’s voice sling back a reply, but he couldn’t really understand it. It seemed that his hearing was fading, and he felt his vision blur along with it. With the last of his strength before he knew he would slip out of the waking world, he used his free hand to swat at Time once more. I was followed by an exasperated growl, then silence.

The little amount of sleep Wild got since…well- since the incident, his dreams had not been kind to him. It often involved him being a spectator to the aforementioned event, where he could see the whole scene from different angles. The viewpoints would change without warning, seemingly to occur when it would hurt Wild the most.

It would usually start as he watched himself burst into the small room. None of the others that surrounded Twilight even registered that he was there as they huddled around the bed. Time sat at the farther side of the bed holding Twi’s hand tightly in his, his singular eye burning with deep worry mixed with frustration. Hyrule was on the other side, straightening up and shaking his head in defeat while Four peered on next to him, his small hands covering his mouth in disbelief.

“I…I can’t do much more…” Hyrule’s words echoed distantly, like a whisper bouncing off the walls down a long hallway.

The scene would usually cut to Wild forcing his way past Hyrule and clutching Twilight’s hand to his chest. He was now seeing though his own eyes, his vision blurring with tears as he watched Twilight apologize to Time for being so reckless and pleading with him not to blame himself for this. Wild could feel his heart break when Twilight’s gaze turned to him, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Twilight’s words boomed in his ears even though he barely spoke in a whisper through the blood bubbling in his throat. “Don’t look at me like that, Cub…”

The words only made Wild’s tears stream faster down his face “Then don’t leave me…” he begged.

The next five words remained branded in Wild’s mind, they echoed through his bones and would from that moment on have a vice grip on his heart and on his thoughts.

“I will never leave you.”

The scene usually then cut to a close up of him curled over Twilight’s body, trembling violently as an agonizing cry ripped from his lungs and shook the windowpanes of the small room. His tears blazed down his cheeks like lava and he roared pleas to the Goddesses, to Hylia, to Twilight to please stay, please just stay.

He knew how it ended. Every time. He would practically feel the spirit of his best friend- his brother- leave Twilight’s body. Sometimes he wished he could catch it as it brushed by.

Usually the dream would end there as Wild was shaken awake by his companions and he was still screaming Twilight’s name.

But this time was forced to remain, the comatose-like state from his head trauma wrapping him in a thick and sickeningly sweet blanket of fog. The screams from the flashback faded and echoed distantly as he found himself in what looked like the Lost Woods. Except that the gnarled dead trees were replaced with lush cherry trees, their soft pink petals fluttering to the ground in the cool midnight air. Stars winked above him in unfamiliar constellations and below him a thickening fog wafted and curled around his legs.

Wild should be scared, or at least concerned that he didn’t know where he was, but he instead felt safe. He was awash with comfort and peace as curiosity pulled his feet into a slow pace. He could hear a rustling in the soft grass ahead of him, so he followed it. He caught glimpses of shadow at the edges of his field of vision, imperceptible enough to the point where he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. His pace quickened as he heard more rustling around him and now panting. The sounds surrounded him like he was being circled. Wild spun around every time he thought he felt something just behind him.

He turned once more, sure that this time he would be quick enough to see what it was, but when he turned, he was met with falling petals and blinking stars. Wild huffed in frustration. “Whatever,” he grumbled, giving up on his search. He decided to turn, hoping to just keep going straight in one direction, when he was met face to face with a wolf.

No.

Wild’s mind was just too cruel because Twilight- Wolfie- was sitting in front of him, his tail wagging lazily behind him and his shocking blue eyes looked fondly into his own. Wild reached out with a trembling hand and Twilight sat patiently awaiting his friend’s familiar touch.

But Wild knew this wasn’t real. He knew it was just a dream and he would not be tormented like this. His hand retreated before it even brushed the wolf’s fur and he turned on his heel and marched away.

“Don’t fucking play with me like this,” he hissed to himself, directing his aggression toward his dream. For no reason in particular, he turned abruptly to the right, only to be met once more by the image of his friend, tail still wagging but his head was now tilted in confusion. “You aren’t real and I can’t-” his voice faltered and he tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. “I can’t handle this right now, please…”

So he turned around and walked away again. He came into a clearing with a small trickling creek and found a place to sit in the tall grass next to a large pleasingly rounded boulder. The death of his friend was agonizing. The pain lanced him through his heart and stole his breath any time he even began to think of Twilight, so he had been avoiding thinking through his grief since they buried him. They had buried him in a quiet forest much…like…

Wild’s eyes widened with realization. They had buried him in a forest very much like this one. Time had used his Power gauntlets to place a large boulder at the grave site to mark it. Wild spun to look at the stone he had sat next to and it seemed to be the very same that Time had placed.

Wild felt a warm breath on his neck and he whirled around to his other side to see Twilight sitting patiently beside him still as a wolf.

“Is this real…?” Wild dared to ask with tears welling in his eyes. Wolfie simply nuzzled his fluffy head under Wild's arm and climbed halfway onto his lap. He looked up into Wild’s eyes and wagged his tail.

“Boof,” replied Wolfie softly. Finally, Wild broke down, wrapping his arms tightly around his friend and desperately clutching fistfuls of fur. He wept freely, sobbing into the soft fur and Twilight leaned into the embrace.

Another sob racked through his body when suddenly his arms closed around nothing and he almost fell forward. “No, wait-“ Wild began pleading frantically before being cut off by a familiar hand ruffling his hair. He looked up with a sniffle. “Twi,” he croaked through the tears.

Twilight offered him a warm smile as he crouched in front of his protégé. “I told you I’d never leave you, didn’t I?”

“But,” Wild sputtered, “Is this real? Is it really you? Or is this just some dream?”

Twilight’s smile deepened before pulling Wild into a tight hug. Wild held onto Twilight for dear life, taking in the earthy familiar scent of his dearest friend, sobbing into his shoulder. “You’re going to be just fine, Wild.”

Twilight repeated this, each word getting fainter and farther away. “Twi, wait,” Wild cried, holding tighter but his senses began to fade and the world and his perception turned to a haze. “Twilight, please, wait don’t go! Please!”

“Wild, you’re okay.” The calm voice soothed. He was still in a tight embrace, but there was now the harsh weight of reality slowly settling back onto his mind. He breathed in again and smelled leather and armor and a camp fire. He wasn’t in Twilight’s arms anymore. “You’re okay, kid, just breathe. It’s alright.” Time’s deep voice settled in his ears and rumbled through to his very core.

Wild, like his companions, didn’t like showing weakness or softness, but right now he needed this embrace like he needed air so he held tighter to Time and cried harder, letting out the bottled up grief of the past couple days. Time’s strong arms returned the gesture, holding Wild closer and Wild heard Time’s breath shake as an unmistakable tear landed on his tunic.

“You’re going to be okay,” Time breathed.

#linked universe #febuwhump #day one #lmk what you think #i came up with this like 3 hours ago #sorry for the rant above #im mad at myself for being an empty husk #the animal care industry has a horrible corrupt underbelly so be careful out there yall listen to your conscience #we in a good place now which is why i now have the mental capacity to be Normal again #what better way to process trauma than projecting it onto fictional character!!!#ashes writes

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shoezuki · 3 years

Text

Tommy's prison/revival arc isnt well written actually

Anyways ive been wanting to talk on it a while for a bit here but havent had the Time or like. The thought to. But im gonna go off now.

First off im gonna say im ASSUMING this stream and plot of tommy being in the prison with dream is written entirely by tommy and dream. Wilbur May be involved in the latest stream but im not sure.

Bringing tommy back to life after only three days of him being dead did practically nothing to progress plot, the characters, or audience's understanding. In fact i feel that it damaged Other characters' potential and plot and already established plotlines.

The 'development' aspect

A really, really easy way to see if anything has changed or developed through an arc or plotline is to straightup just compare the 'beginning' to the 'end' in terms of the barebones situation. So;

Beginning: tommy is trapped in an isolated prison cell with dream, his own abuser who has hurt him in the past, for an unknown amount of time. He's terrified of dream and being stuck there with him.

End: tommy is trapped in an isolated prison cell with dream after being killed then revived by him, his own abuser whos hurt him in the past, for an unknown amount of time. Hes terrified of dream and being stuck there with him.

Okay. This is simplified obvious. But the point stands. ALTHOUGH the troupe of 'going back to the beginning' is common in the heroes journey its. It doesnt work here. Has tommy learned anything? Has he changed as a character? Is the severity of their situation any different? Have we, as the audience, learned anything new?

Im going to expand on that last point because i think it has the strongest potential argument. Technically for progression in literature and development of plot/characters, things can Change without them being Aware as characters. It can change just by the audience's perception changing or being challenge.

Slight example: i've been reading a webcomic called Your Throne. Its a fantasy/political drama about a noble lady who entered a competition with another noble lady to become the empress. The main lady lost despite her being a better fit, and the comic starts with the main lady trying to assassinate the empress. Its assumed and stated by the main lady that she 'ruined her life' and so thats all the readers know. However, later in the novel we see flashbacks to the competition itself and find that the two ladies were extremely close friends, neither wanting anything bad for the other, but it was the emperor himself who manipulated both of them for his own agenda. Those flashbacks gave us an entirely different idea of who the real antagonist is and completely changed the two main ladies' relationship. THAT is how the audience's understanding of the plot and novel can be used to change the entire story. We dont get such here though

Some things that were brought to light during tommy being dead/revived:

Dream is capable of reviving people infinitely

This was already implicated and assumed. The book dream has being a means of reviving people has been around Technically since schlatt's death. This just 'confirmed' what was known

Time works differently/feels longer in the afterlife

This doesnt really impact much beyond emotions and implications. If we had more insight into what the 'afterlife' is like beyond nothingness perhaps so. But really it just makes it so wilbur being dead for what feels like 9 years and tommy having been dead for 2 months appeal to emotions.

Wilbur is evil

This one fuckin sucks i cant lie HSKSHSISSGEGDV. Like i was gon go on bout it and i will but it jus sucks. We have nothing to go on besides tommy's word, no examlles of what Horrible things wilbur said could make tommy assume this, etcetc. Ill most likely make a seperate post on how this feels like we're just going to get 'wilbur is a horrible villain' type with him. But still. I feel wilbur Not Being Good isnt a new development.

Dream is going to revive wilbur

This doesnt feel new either, part because phil had wanted to revive wilbur before (ill get to that more later) and that tommy had kept dream alive/initially imprisoned him with the idea of him reviving wilbur.

Dream believes wilbur will break him out of prison

Okau this makes no sense to me actually. I cwnt understand How exactly wilbur would be able to do this? Or why dream believes he even Could? Mans been dead for like 9 years and all we Know of the afterlife is that its black... nothingness. How would 9 years of that make wilbur capable of busting the prison open?

So. Yeah. All in all this plotline hasnt done anything new, developed things, or altered people's perceptions. We just ended up back at square one. Back to tommy being traumatized, dream being 'evil' and horrible and doing villain monologues, and them being stuck together.

Other characters and plotlines

Im pretty damn sure tommy's revival fucked up a LOT of other characters' plotlines and potential development. Honestly i feel this has a lot to do with the writers not communicating with other ccs well enough. But Ill talk about specific characters from least to most fucked over in my opinion:

Sam

He's the best off. He hqd been there during tommy's death, had been close to tommy, had majorly blamed himself and his own mistakes for tommy's death. His grief and self hatred was actually really heartbreaking and well done. The attached character of Sam Nook being unaware of tommy's death and simply waiting for tommy to return was a really good parallel to sam's own grief and anger. like it really snapped sam the guy who cares for tommy and wants to do Right by him back together with him as the Warden of the prison. Mixed personal life with 'just business'.

I feel it wouldve been nice to have him like. Have more time to grieve properly and come to terms eith tommy's death and his own involvement/influence over the events. Him finding tommy alive again Could be a means of him like. Facing his own grief head on if done well.

Ranboo

Mostly in the context of him and sam's argument do i feel it got screwed over. The weight of them yelling at each other and trying to find who to blame and the implications that Maybe ranboo was the one who caused the security breach that closed down the prison on tommy just.... doesnt hit so hard anymore. Because how can there be blame and arguments and a 'who done it' mystery when tommy popped up all fine again?

Puffy

I dony know much of her involvement or how she found out tommy died (besides metagaming shhhhh) but i saw her monologuing of how they 'failed' tommy and like. Her whole 'he was so young we the Adults failed him' spiel is like........... inconsequential? Now??? Like no dont worry he died but hes alright now.

Philza

BET YOU DIDNY EXPECT TO SEE THIS FUCKER!!!!!! But actually though i want to talk bout how this ties into phil. A LOT. for Zalbr ❤. But also because i see ppl tying phil to tommy's death n like nah shutup u doin it wrong. Ill go off more in a Wilbur Post. But essentially: i dont like that dream is now going to revive wilbur. I feel they arent going to tie philza into this Despite phil having originally been trying to revive his son and studying on it and Attempting and Failing. But now suddenly dream can just. Say some magic words and Poof wilbur lives? So we're just going to Kill philza's revival attempts plotline and leave that hanging? This made his efforts seem pointless and Wack like oh why didnt you just Say The Magic Words phil????

Niki

I feel really bad for niki. She hasnt been able to do a lore stream during tommy's 'death' (she tweeted she wanted to but her computer wasnt working) and considering her entire character.... that shit is important. We seen it with Jack Manifold how tommy's death impacted Him considering he literally wanted tommy dead. And since niki is in a similar boat to jack of trying to kill tommy and it being her Only goal...... thats extremely important.

BUT. i feel there wasnt any communication. Did she or anyone even know tommy would be revived? Did no one consider they could At Least let her do a single stream on it? Like jack manifold????

We couldve gotten a Really good niki lore stream. I genuinely was so excited for it and i dont regularly watch her. But we seen it with jack manifold which is why i dont feel he got screwed because mans genuinely did So Good he could pop off with anything n i think it works in His favour. But now........ for niki. Canonically she never even knew tommy was Dead. So its like nothing even happened for her. Is she just supposed to continue on trying to kill tommy with no progression?

What i think would work

This is more me being like 'hey @ the dsmp writers let me in' type speculation sbosegussgs. But i was thinkin on a Really easy way to 'fix' this without rewriting lore and the streams.

Dream should kill tommy again now that he's been revived and Leave Him Dead.

More development for the characters who are affected by his death Especially niki. More time for grief and self reflection and development

A chance for the audience to figure out what the 'afterlife' really is.

Dream is supposed to be smart and a master manipulator or something right? Why doesnt he use being able to revive tommy as a bargaining chip with sam for his own freedom?

The audience would now Know dream's intentions with tommy better, that this death isnt 'final', but we could still see other characters' grief and reactions and coping without it feeling cheap. Ive seen some 'but people dont know tommy is alive so hes still dead in their mind' but that sucks imo.

We'd know more on dream's ability to revive people and that he can just Do It on a whim (which i think sucks but hey im trying) but no one else would know this canonically

Okay. Im done. If you read this. Thankyou. I love you. Hmu.

#mcyt #dream smp #dream smp critical #tommyinnit #dream #im puttin this in main tags took me too fuckin long to write for me Not to #death mention #ask to tag

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starkidpotty · 4 years

Text

Should’ve Known Better [GW]

After the Second Wizarding War, the wizarding world faces a great recession that puts you and George in financially and morally compromising situations.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing and terrible use of tenses (im sorry for the grammar)

A/N: written for angst prompt #14 for @kalimagik‘s 1.3k writing challenge!! congrats on 1.3k again!! <3

You had always been good–exceptional, actually–at writing since your teenage years. Essays you’ve written for work assigned by Professor Flitwick managed you top marks. Hell, even Snape commended your writing from time to time (if he wasn’t too busy taking away points from Gryffindor.) Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you entered multiple wizarding writing competitions and won them all. It made sense to you to seek out a job at the Daily Prophet after graduating from Hogwarts to put those writing skills to good use.

Your first year at the Daily Prophet was difficult, to say the least. You were paid almost next to nothing and writing on an empty stomach while worrying if you had enough galleons to pay rent was terrible for your creative process. On top of that, it seems as though whatever piece you made never satisfied your boss, Angel Hornbeam, editor of the Tragedies and Mishaps section of the paper. Each piece you wrote was either sent back with red ink splattered across the parchment with scathing comments on how sophomoric & crass your writing was or outright discarded. You didn’t know what Angel hated more: you or your writing.

There you were walking down Diagon Alley after a grueling day at work. You made two pieces today–only two pieces–that were immediately thrown out to the rejection pile at the corner of Angel’s office. Roan Staghart, a colleague of yours, accidentally spilled pumpkin juice all over you which Angel pointed out and subsequently prompted her to give you a long-winded lecture on how unbecoming it was to sport such an unprofessional appearance in a place of work. You made your way down Diagon Alley with your path only being illuminated by the lights in the shops you passed. You were downtrodden and hungry and lonely and unmotivated and uninspired. You thought about the eviction notice plastered to your flat’s door that you received earlier that day before heading off to work. You thought about the empty pantry in said flat, which then reminded you of your empty wallet. Lost in thought and not looking directly straight ahead, you ram your head straight into the open door of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Your arse lands on the cobblestoned path and you’re clutching your bleeding nose with your right hand, while your left provides support.

“Merlin, I’m sorry!” says one of the Weasley twins as he hurriedly walks toward you.

“Georgie, go get her some ice.” says the twin to the other behind him, still clutching the door open.

“Fred, right? Sorry, I’m shite at telling you and your brother apart.” You say while letting out a humourless chuckle, wincing in pain as you clutch your nose. Fred crouches down to your level.

“S’alright, just know I’m the better looking one.” He pauses, “You’re [Y/N], you were in [Hogwarts House], correct? I remember you selling a pre-written essay to Lee in our fourth year. T’was the only he got an O for, if I recall.” says Fred with a joking grin. George runs back with ice wrapped in a handkerchief which he passes to Fred, which Fred passes to you.

“Had to make money to buy butterbeer at Hogsmeade somehow.” You answer him as you bring the wrapped ice to your nose. Both the brothers smile at you and you smile back.

“Fred and I were actually headed off to dinner at our flat, join us. I suppose it’s the least we could do after the damage we’ve inflicted onto your poor nose.” George proposes.

“I couldn’t impose–”

“Nonsense!” They say in unison. Fred offers you a hand, which you graciously take. He pulls you up and you walk with them to their flat.

You were now at the Weasley twins’ shared flat at the edge of Diagon Alley. It was the best meal you’ve had in weeks, not to mention the twins’ presence was a morale booster in itself. Dinner lasted an hour, but the conversations after lasted well into the night. You wondered why you weren’t friends with the twins during their school years. Perhaps if you detached your hand from your favorite quill and parchment, you would have been. Regardless, that night sparked a friendship.

You were stopping by the shop on your way home from work on the daily and the twins enjoyed your presence so much so they offered you a small, part-time job as a stock keeper as a means to keep yourself afloat while your work your way up the Daily Prophet ladder. They’d come to visit you in their spare time at your dinky flat on the border of Knockturn and Diagon alley. As hard as your first year at the Daily was, your newfound friendship with Fred and George made it all the worthwhile. While you and Fred remained friends, you and George had begun to engage in a shameless “flirtationship” as you coined–always dancing on the border of friends and being more than friends. Stealing kisses in the shop, holding hands underneath dinner tables, George reasoning out to Fred that you needed help at your flat only for him to spend the night, writing little notes for George before he left in the morning. Everyone around you knew you and George were it, as much as you and he tried to suppress it. One day, George decided to make it real and official.

Your personal life had improved immensely after your horrendous first year as a journalist. You were dating George Weasley, your pantry was always full now, and you didn’t have to worry about getting evicted anymore. Your work life wasn’t as terrible as before as Angel Hornbeam turned over a new leaf and was much more forgiving at work. You were finally given a small promotion–not a choice Angel made, but by a higher-up as you stayed loyal to the good of the wizarding world–which offered you enough stability to leave the shop.

The wizarding world at this point in time, however, was not improving. Death eaters infiltrated the ministry and your beloved Hogwarts. They started censoring pieces at the Daily Prophet, much to your chagrin. You couldn’t write or report about tragedies happening as the Death Eaters wanted the media to depict dark wizards as righteous and justify their actions. You moved over to making crossword puzzles for the paper as opposed to spewing lies about Lord Voldemort and his mission to take over the wizarding world. Fred and George had to close down shop for the time being as the Weasleys went into hiding.

Then the Battle of Hogwarts happened. You fought alongside Fred and George, casting spells and charms. Blasting death eaters left and right. You did everything you could to fight against the Death Eaters. But you couldn’t save Fred, nor could George. George was never the same after Fred’s death and neither were you. You were both deeply resigned to grieving and still continue to do so everyday. The sun still rose and set like it always did, but Fred was gone and the world just kept spinning. It left you and George no time to breathe.

The wizarding world slowly built itself back up after the war, with Kingsley Shacklebolt acting as the Minister for Magic. He’d done a bloody good job of it. He purged out the dark wizards from the ministry and from the Daily Prophet, effectively returning most things back to normal. You were back to writing in the Tragedies and Mishap department, but the wizarding world hit a great recession after the war. People were losing jobs left and right; you knew for a fact that your neck was next on the chopping board if you didn’t come up with a good piece soon. Though George was slowly reopening the shop, with the help of his family, it wasn’t enough to keep you and he afloat. Losing this job would bring your right back to where you were your first year out of Hogwarts and you were determined to avoid that.

It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, two hours to the end of the work week. You haven’t written anything substantial in a while and your desk was evidence. The brown wood was stained with droplets of stray ink from your quill, but they weren’t as obvious because of the crumpled pieces of ripped parchment scattered across the desk. Your hand was ink-stained and your hair was in disarray. To say the least, you looked a mess.

“[Y/N], I need you in my office,” Angel called out to you, peering out of her office door.

You stood up, straightening out your top, trying to look as presentable as possible. Walking over to her office catches the attention of your many officemates. Your stomach begins to feel like a vacuum, sucking in all the air around you, ineffectively trying to get you to breathe. Were your fears getting realized? Was this it for your writing career? So many thoughts raced in your head as you walked–slogged, rather–the distance from your desk to Angel’s office. You reach the archway of her door and she instructs you to close it. You gulp heavily.

“Yes, Angel? Anything I could do for you?” You anxiously choke out. You feel like your guts are about to unceremoniously find its way out your mouth and onto her office floor.

Her office was decorated all in black, from her quills to her velvet wallpaper. Angel stood out in the gloomy decor of her office, sporting an all-white outfit. She says it’s a metaphor–tragedies are both light and dark, simultaneously and she wants to embody that. A little pretentious, but she’s right nonetheless.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not going to fire you, darling.” Darling, a term of endearment, but never when it came from Angel’s lips. “I’m close, but I won’t. I have a proposition”

You look at her intently, your eyes almost bulging.

“I want an editorial piece on grief and love. I want romance wrapped in despair, topped with angst.” Angel mused.

“I beg your pardon?” You muster out.

“Write about lost love, the war did just happen–it’ll be fresh, uncut,” Angel pauses for dramatic effect, “Absolutely raw.” She clenches her fist in such a theatrical manner, it's almost comical.

You stay silent, unsure of what to say or do. Your face must’ve looked bewildered, as she slouches and rolls her eyes.

“Godric, I want you to interview someone who lost the love of their life because of the war, so to speak. It’ll do wonders for readership. Have you read that muggle story–Romeo and Juliet? Love and tragedy create such a spicy little mix.” She says in response to your look.

“Wouldn’t that be exploitative, no? Everyone’s still grieving.” You question Angel.

“That’s journalism.” Angel’s brows are furrowed and you can tell she’s trying to control her temper. “I better have a damn well-written editorial on my desk come Monday morning. May I remind you, you are the last of your colleagues to have either been promoted up or let go. Do you want to be the latter?”

You gulp, she hasn’t threatened you since your first year at the office. You shakily let out a soft no. She returns with a softly-said good and points you to the direction of her door.

You were on your way home to you and George’s shared flat in Diagon Alley. Your mind was raking itself for who you could possibly call to satisfy Angel’s wants. The gears were grinding hard until you had the aha moment–Angelina. Her and Fred’s relationship was complicated to say the least. They weren’t friends but they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but they didn’t want to see other people. You could no longer recall what they were and with Fred gone, the answer didn’t seem to matter anymore. The “almost” aspect of the relationship would provide the angst–unfinished business, if you will. Fred’s death and the love that could’ve been. You lit up at the ideas forming in your head, but you feel your conscience gnawing at you. However, you and George had to keep the lights on somehow.

George had beaten you home that night and was eating a packed dinner from Molly on your couch. You hang your bag on the rack next to the door, taking your coat off as well. You walk over to George, plotting your body next to him. Resting your head against his shoulder you say, “How was your day?”

You each share quips about your days at work, leaving out Angel’s request entirely. A silence ensues and you find this to be the most opportune moment to ask him.

“D’you mind having Angelina over tomorrow? A light catch-up? Haven’t seen her since, well, y’know when.” You ask George. His face stiffens.

“Alright, would be good to see an old friend, yeah?” He manages to say. He gets up to write an owl to Angelina. He sends the owl off and within the hour, Angelina’s response comes back. She agrees.

It’s the day of your interview-not-interview with Angelina. You are in the bathroom getting ready while George waits by the door for Angelina. Your self-writing quill for note taking and its accompanying notebook are hidden in a cupboard at the corner of the kitchen that could not be seen from the dining room, ready to start writing at your will.

“Love, Angelina’s here!” George says through the bathroom door. You quickly get out, rounding the corner to get to the living room and see Angelina sat on your sofa. You bring her in for a hug which she happily returns, you feel the guilt creep up again. You try and dismiss the feeling as hard as you can but it lingers like an unwanted guest. Trying to ease your nerves, you invite her to the dining room, where food you cooked in the morning lay waiting.

Angeline told stories about her life as a bigtime Quidditch match commentator and you entertained her with stories from the Sports department. You were both marveling at how much time has changed things since your graduation from Hogwarts to the war to life now. Now’s a good a time as any, your mind reasons out. You muster what little courage you had and shift the topic over to Fred.

“So, Angelina, how have you been holding up, since the battle?” You ask her. George looks at you strangely, as he notes the shift and tone in your voice.

“Uh, well I’m here. Coping. Grieving.” She responds.

“We’re here for you, tell us more.” You say, trying to probe more information out of her. A slimy feeling makes itself known in the insides of your stomach and you try your hardest to ignore it.

Angelina stays silent and then starts, “It’s been rough, Fred–” The winning ticket.

“What about Fred? It was a bit complicated before he died.” Cutting her off, you were siphoning as much information as you can.

“Yes, it was. You know that.” Angelina deflected, but she continued. “I wish there was more time. More time with him.” Her voice grew heavy, but you tried to turn up the pressure.

“Tell me, what would you have done with that time? Were there things you would’ve said? Done?”

Angelina takes an ugly pause.

“Well?” You don’t mean to say this in such a crass and impatient manner, but you do.

At this point, George stands up. He gets uncomfortable and goes to the cupboard to fetch himself a glass of water. As he inches to the cupboard, he hears scratching noises like a quill writing on parchment. He knows exactly what you’re doing now. Opening the cupboard he sees your quill and notebook scribbling away. On the pad is written, “‘A love lost, an almost,’ says Angelina as she begins to tell me about what could’ve been had Fred avoided his untimely death…” George stopped reading. It clicks in George’s head now. It explains the sudden decision to send an owl over to her last night. George’s jaw tenses up.

He grabs a glass, closing the cupboard, while leaving the quill and notebook in there. He heads to the front of the refrigerator where you’d be unable to see him. It gives him time to rethink his next move while calming down. He knew journalism would be gross, but he didn’t think you’d prey on your friends–especially since you knew how everyone was still mourning the loss of his twin brother.

Angelina begins to cry from the other room, but you continue to hound her with questions. “What would you be doing now if Fred were still around? Do you still dream of a life with him? What else have you been doing to fill the space? Do you wish there was more you could’ve done?” The words were practically marathoning out your mouth. The guilt in you subsides and all you feel now is a desire to get the truth out of Angelina. It’s as though you were watching this unfold from the corner of the room; it wasn’t you shoving questions down Angelina’s throat, but an entirely different entity.

“Merlin, will you stop!” Angelina boomed. “I’m leaving. I missed you and George, I really did. But, how dare you. We’re all grieving and if this is your sick at attempt at therapy, I’ve damn near had it.”

You’re silent and you feel yourself float back to your body, sat in front of a tearful and red-faced Angelina. She angrily gets up, dropping her fork onto the table. She makes a beeline for the coat rack, grabbing her things, and leaves–making sure to slam the door.

“What the fuck was that, [Y/N]?” George shot at you, as he emerged from the kitchen. He was holding his glass of water with his fingers by the brim, both his arms by his side. The expression plastered on his face was a mixture between disappointed, frustration, and anger. You stay silent.

“Answer me, what was that?” George repeats again. You still stay silent, you don’t know how to answer him. “Were you trying to make a piece out of Angelina?”

You look down at your lap repentantly. “Angel said she’d fire me if I didn’t.”

George makes his way over to you, placing his glass on the dining room table. He doesn’t take a seat, instead he looks down at you in anger.

“She’s our friend. She’s grieving, mourning–like you and me fucking both.” George was fuming, “You were being a prick and I didn’t like it, obviously neither did Angelina. I could say more, but out of respect, I won’t.”

“George, we have to eat one way or another. I didn’t want to lose any more income than we already had!” You tried very hard to justify your reasons as to why.

“At expense of a good friend of ours? Merlin, [Y/N].” George rebutted. “I can’t even look at you right now. I know you love writing, I do. I love your writing, in fact. But, this is low. All for what? A few fucking galleons? Merlin.”

George turns his heel and stomps to the door, grabbing his coat and slamming the door shut in one swift motion. He presumably chases after Angelina to apologize on your behalf. You hang your head, trying to recollect yourself, and think about what to say to Angelina and George.

You decide right then and there that you were going to quit your job at the Daily Prophet–there was always a need for writers in the Wizarding World anyway and jobs of that sort were probably not as exploitative in nature. Deciding to write a Letter of Resignation later that night, you trudge your way to the door, grab your coat, and run after George.

masterlist here

#maggieswinterwritingchallenge #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley angst #george weasley #angelina johnson #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n

117 notes · View notes

swimfuel · 3 years

Text

okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

#humanstuck #vantas family #.

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