#and there is something else Happening in the wider world that is also making it stronger

[starpirateee]

Hi!! Could you write one of the Curtwen prompts I made, yet didn’t cut it? I love your writing style!!

Honestly there was a bit of deliberation here because you put some really good ideas out there on the form, but I did say I'd write em myself, and by all means, I'll still do it! So, I decided to go for this prompt:

Would you take a modern au from me? Can I do that?

I mean, I'm going to anyway, because I have a dire need to call Curt and Owen husbands (and also for wider Starkid lore), but i just thought I'd warn you beforehand!

"Agent Carvour, have you found anything yet?"

Owen leaned back away from his research. He'd been looking at the same page now for a while, trying to make some sense of it. Redacted government files were hard to get hold of, but even harder to make ends of. His system had been trying to translate it, but not even he had the software for that.

"Quite possibly, sir. I have a few sources, at least."

"What have you got?"

With an air of something that was almost excitement and almost elation, Owen pulled up a series of documents and started the walk through them. "Well, sir, the easiest source was from a few years ago. There's a company in Michigan that's been trying to conduct various temporal experiments under their parent company— some kind of analyst company, I think. They're surprisingly ordinary. Anyway, apparently the experiments just… Stopped. They never drew a conclusion on whether or not their research was connected to what was on the other side."

This had all started when Chimera had dug up a series of centuries old reports about people claiming to have looked into the eyes of old gods. None of the people had known each other, but all of the reports showed some form of consistency, and all told of great, unknowable power.

So, they had decided to look into it, to see if there had been anyone else who'd dared to brave the process of trying to find an answer. Owen was one of those lucky enough to find himself with the resources to start a thorough investigation.

"They didn't finish?"

"No, I don't know what happened, but the reports just stopped one day."

"Is there anything else?"

"An american government report, but it's as hard as you can imagine to decipher. Most of it is redacted…"

"Anything worth noting?"

Owen nodded, carefully turning back and switching the tabs. This felt a little like he was giving a presentation that he hadn't prepared for, and he hadn't felt like this in quite some time. He took a breath, trying to slow down the rampage that was going on in his head. "They started in the early noughts. 2005, to be precide. That's the earliest I'd gotten without looking at those old reports from the pioneers. A branch of the military tried to build a gateway to the other side, to investigate what existed outside of our plane. I don't know names, only one. The name of the man who performed the experiment."

"They got this gateway open?"

"Yes, sir. And they sent someone through. I think there's a good reason why his is the only name they disclosed."

"Why?"

"Because he was declared dead, sir."

His screen still displayed the document, and the man's name sat among the black markouts, clear enough to see. Cross, W.D. Apparently, he'd ventured into the portal, and nobody heard from him or saw him after the date of the experiment. They gave up the search after a month, and after that, Colonel Cross was indeed declared dead.

"So, another dead end?"

"Maybe not. I'll do what I can to uncover this with what I've got available, but it was scanned, so…. It might take some time." Owen was normally confident in his abilities, and uncovering government documents was a difficult yet necessary part of the job. There was something almost genuinely enthralling about scraping off the parts that the world's governments wanted to keep secret. It felt like giving people a small yet surprisingly effective slice of justice every time.

"Keep looking, Carvour. We need to know if this is viable, or even worth our time…"

If Owen had any kind of normal life— if he and his husband didn't both do the dirty work for secret operation services— he would have a blast trying to decide how to describe the intricacies of what he'd been researching lately. The throws of domestic life confounded him to no end, which was why it was so funny when he and Curt tried to imitate that.

The otherwise simple question of "how was your day" turned into a battle of who could craft the most believable lie that better concealed what they'd actually done. Neither wanted to jeopardise their jobs, and Curt had always been brilliant at crafting stories, so it was never dull.

He started to think about what today's excuse would be. Something about pioneers, or the Oregon trail, or perhaps he could bring up that old, dead colonel somehow, that would be interesting to add to the pile.

--

"You know what I'm gonna ask already…"

By the time he got home, Curt was already waiting for him, and the mid-spring sun was starting to set. For anyone else, it was a day at the office, but the trails he had begun to uncover had really put all other days at the office to shame.

He laughed softly, having prepared this answer a number of hours before, and took up a position on the couch. "No, love, you first. I insist."

"Fine, okay," Curt answered with a chuckle. "It was nothing really, just your standard… But, the bear returned, and in about a month, I'm gonna get really rich and run off to central Europe, with a really pretty lady and a dollar store box of magic tricks."

"The same bear from last month?"

"Yeah. Bastard won't leave me alone."

"Sounds wild. Are you coming back after your plans to run off with this really pretty lady?"

"Plan is to cut myself off after three weeks, but at this rate, I might not make it two."

"Not good enough?"

"Owen, I'm a bit too gay for that." To sell his point, he flashed his wedding band, and Owen laughed harder. "Besides," he added, covering his own bout of laughter. "Who needs a fake wife when I've got my own right here?"

Owen shot him a faux-offended glance. "How dare you!"

"You might fool the guys at work, O, but you couldn't pretend you don't think about it…"

Or that he hadn't been experimenting in that part of himself in little segments since he was seventeen. Turns out he suited long hair better, and he wouldn't hesitate to admit that he both looked and felt rather good with the occasional flourish.

"You know me well..."

"I should hope so! Anyway, what're you keeping from me? How was your day?"

"Office, just like you. I've had a conversation with a pioneer, and tried to erase marker pen over the body of a dead soldier. Oh, and I tried to teach myself statistical analysis."

"Jeez, that was— that was a whole rollercoaster there, huh?"

"Mhm, I've been busy."

"You can say that again, god… So, a pioneer? Like those guys that travelled to Oregon?"

"Yeah. Quite interesting people, if a little paranoid." Something other than their oxen might be watching them would've been a perfect addition to the statement, but Owen felt that was a little too close to the line to pass, so he decided not to add it.

The important part was, apart from the knowledge that Curt was on an assignment in a month's time, both of them were none the wiser. Curt didn't need to know that he had started the deep dive into a pack of eldritch gods and was even slightly nervous about the outcome.

He didn't sleep well that night. He knew that he had right to believe that this was all one great hoax, that there was something in the water that made the pioneers mass hallucinate this supposed watcher. They all travelled on the same trail, it was entirely plausible that all of them found the same hallucinogenic and envisioned a thousand eyes watching them and their familes. It was less of a coincidence when two subsidaries of larger companies started describing details of experiments that led them to discovering other beings beyond just the watcher, of course, but he still wasn't sure whether he was privy to believing any of it.

There was something about redacted government files, though, that were meant to be believed. There was a reason they hid information from the public, and that was often because they had found something worth disclosing in the first place. That meant huge news, large press cover ups… The whole works… And that was the last thing any self-respecting government with something to hide would want. Owen imagined the size of the initial press conferences for dealings like Roswell, how many people must've shown up to that conference, under the impression that they were going to get answers, only for the press to redact the next day and claim that it was no more than a weather balloon.

He felt like he was dealing with a weather balloon of his own right now. This was something that this branch of the military clearly didn't want people knowing. The only reason they'd had to disclose any information at all was because one of their own had died looking for this information, and they had to provide the closure for whatever family he had left. Part of him wondered what they'd said, how they'd tried to cover up this man's imminent demise at the hands of another dimension. What did his family know? Was he ever given a sendoff?

When Owen tried to sleep that night, plagued with the thoughts of how much his research was worth, and what really happened on the other side, he couldn't get his head in the right place to take a suitable rest for long enough. Flashes of colour— brighter than anything he'd ever seen— danced behind his eyelids, chasing each other in sequence. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Pink. Green. White. Blue…. He didn't have much of the capacity to think, not when those colours started consuming his subconscious thought, but he spared a moment to the hope that he may get answers of his own if he stuck around long enough.

"He thinks he's brave… He thinks we don't know about him…"

Whatever dream he had been having was taken over by blurred edges and violent pangs of pain that he was sure he could feel outside of this existence. Everything faded out, leving only ruin in it's wake. Broken pieces, scrambled signals… Owen didn't even try and make sense of it, he already understood the futility of trying. There was nothing left in his mind but those colours and those voices— for he was sure there was more than one. A sickening chorus, holding perfect time with each other.

"He's foolish, if he thinks he can go further without us finding out."

"Owennnn…"

"We know what you're doing, Owen…. It's not going to last."

He'd thought about meeting his maker before. He'd thought about the possibility of death, the idea that he may not live to see another day eventually. It was hard to deliberate something so serious in his early thirties, but his line of work called for it. He knew that he had a dangerous job, and that there were few who would be able to save him if something happened.

But, he'd never considered the possibility of his own demise to this extent before. In the formless remains of his dream, where he was forced into hearing these voices talk about his death and how soon it would be to coming, he had pause for deliberation. And it wasn't good.

He had to strain to take control of his own voice, in this space that was once his own. Once so sacred, now scarce and left entirely to the whim of whatever was taking residence in his mind. This was a bad idea. All of this research was a bad idea, and he was suddenly more aware of that than he was anything else. Never before had he had such a violent urge to overturn everything he'd worked on for the sake of something this seemingly trivial.

"There's nothing you can do. It's already started. This is bigger than me…"

"We know that. You're not the only one we have heard trying to work your way into what is ours… Choose your next step carefully, Owen. I'm sure we would delight in taking you in the same direction as the others…"

Before he could really ask what that meant, he was left entirely alone. The ruin of his dream still stood strong, which was strange enough given that the voices had left him alone, but he had the strangest feeling that there was more to this landscape than just what he was being shown. He started to wander, to look around in an attempt to find the real end to all of this. His mind was a wasteland, taken over by the lack of colour and the apparently deafening absence of those voices that had only appeared a moment before. He felt empty without them, although he knew nothing more than the sequence of colours that paraded through his vision.

Blue… Purple…. Yellow…

The pattern was familiar, like he'd seen it before somewhere. And while he wasn't resting easy, he couldn't force himself to wake up, either. No matter how hard he tried, he was just left stuck, wandering the expanse until he found what he was apparently looking for.

Pink…. Green…. White… Blue…

The expanses of his mind stretched out into a road, occupied by nothing but empty space. He supposed that was mostly his own fault; he had known for years that his imagination was never one to be put on par with anything else. He couldn't so vividly picture that which others could, and he'd never really had much of a capacity to dream, either.

So, this warning was strange. Seeing such vivid, bright colours in the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn't have conjured them himself…

He started to walk the road, curious enough to want to know where it went.

"Owen?"

That voice wasn't like the ones who had left moments before. That voice had a personality, and a person to go with. It was warm, though scared. Human all the same. And Owen knew the shape of it.

"Owen?"

Owen let his instinct lead him down the road, through it's many curves and winds. Eventually, the road gave way to what could only possibly be a stage. There was a set of stairs to one side, that he let himself climb before he could think to wonder where they led, and then the familiar voice gave way to a man in the wings, staring at him with desperate, fear-lined eyes. Of course he knew the voice, and of course he had never tried to doubt himself on the matter.

He tried to advance towards Curt, but he took a hasty step back, shaking his head.

"Curt?"

"Prove you're Owen."

"I'm sorry?"

Curt hesitated, and then slowly emerged from the wings. Even though he stood on the light of the stage, it still looked like he was carefully enveloped in shadow, like the darkness was a comfort to him. Owen looked around, wondering what had made him so cautious, and whether it was still around. Had Curt seen what he'd seen? What had those things whispered to him?

"I'm not falling for it again. Tell me you're actually Owen…"

Owen frowned, not wanting to dwell too much on why Curt was so afraid to reach out to him and realise that all of this was as real as they could get it. "Curt, love, I don't know what you want me to say…" There was a certain desperation about him too. Improvisation had never been his strong suit, but he wass confident that, given the right prompt, he would be able to convince his husband that he was who he said he was, to quell any discrepancy that it may have been otherwise.

"Don't. Show me… What happened on your 25th birthday."

The pieces fit into place, and Owen nodded dutifully. He had been out in the field that day, a strikingly hot day in the middle of June. The two of them had barely ended up with three hours together by the end of it, and they'd gone out drinking to celebrate what little time was left of his birthday. He'd never been particularly big on celebrating, but Curt had insisted. They were newly married then, and getting used to the idea of sharing a life with someone else. That was one of the first nights following their wedding when Owen truly came to realise that he'd made entirely the right decision, and that there was nobody he'd rather share his life with than Curt Mega.

"My 25th… That was a home ground mission. I was in the state."

"What happened to you?"

Owen smiled, somewhere between fondness and a need to hide the melancholic air that hung about that question. He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, and huffed a weary breath of laughter. "I was trying to make my exit, but the suit jacket caught on a fence. Here…" With his sleeve rolled to just the right length, Owen held out his arm and pointed out a pale flash just below his elbow— a jagged scratch that had never quite healed right. "That's what happened after the fabric tore. Is that enough?"

Curt had known about the scar. He'd also known about the story. He was pretty sure that nobody else knew, though, so in his head, that had always been his fallback option in the event that he was ever sure Owen needed to prove himself. Those stories lined up perfectly, and while Owen had missed out on some of the details, in the grander scheme of things, he'd gotten it exactly right. He shifted, letting a knowing smile cross his face through the fear that still gripped him.

"It's really you…"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Curt's approach was still careful, premeditated. Even though he knew the truth now, there was still something about him that screamed a lack of trust directly into his ear, and it made actually reaching out for Owen so much harder. "You… You were trying to kill me."

"What now?"

"I know what I saw…"

"I don't doubt you, but I would never… I swear it on my life."

"I know, that's why it was strange… I— What the hell's happening?" This stage was the only thing connecting the two of them to reality. There was nothing beyond it but the end of the road that Owen had travelled down, and nothing behind it but black, empty space.

Owen let his instinct take over. If the two of them were going to face the unknown, whatever and wherever this was, then they were going to do it together. They always had, and they always would. That was the way things worked, especially for the two of them, because their lives were built so heavily on the idea of distrust that any semblance of the opposite they could get, they would cling to. Normally that was exclusively each other, and so the world wasn't usually much larger than the two of them.

Their hands connected in the middle of the emptiness. Owen pulled Curt Closer to him, and the two of them stood side, performers to an unknown audience, marionettes for something larger than themselves. They exchanged a glance, and Owen registered the warm, homely spark residing in Curt's eyes.

"I think we're trapped in a nightmare, crazy as it sounds," he tried to respond, but he wasn't entirely sure where this was going to go. "I can't wake up, but I remember falling asleep last night."

"Me too. I fell asleep before you did, you were still reading."

"Right, and now there's this. Whatever this is. did you, by chance, see those colours too?"

Curt nodded. "They came before you did, before the- other you. Blue, and purple, and yellow…"

"…Pink, and green, and white..?"

"And then blue again."

Owen heaved a sigh. "Curt, there's something I have to confess. It's safe to do so now, there's little that could get in the way of what I have to admit, but this is one of those things I wouldn't be able to tell you awake, you understand?"

There was a moment's pause, in which Curt tried to work around Owen's phrasing. Both of them felt the incredibly revealing sense that they were being watched, so Curt understood that Owen had gone into the professional mindset— switching off his senses for the sake of making as much sense of something as possible. It was always how he rationalised his way through situations, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Eventually, Curt nodded again, as the words started to sink in and he started to get a sense of what was being said. "This about what you told me this evening?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid there's a little more to it than what I told you, but I suppose that was rather obvious."

A nervous breath of laughter left Curt, only partially voluntary. "I thought there'd be a bit more to it than erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier…. What the hell kinda explanation was that, anyway?"

"One I spent a good hour crafting, thank you very much. I thought it was clever."

"Better than a pretty lady and a box of tricks?"

"And a bear, yes."

"… And the bear. Right. Well, what's that mean? erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier, what're you saying there?"

"I've…" This is not going to get you done for. Those documents were already top secret before you saw them. And if it gets you out of this nightmare prison, then surely it has to be worth it. "I've been uncovering sealed military case files that might explain what's happening to us right now."

Curt's eyes went wide. "Fucking what?!"

"It's all part of the job. I can't… I can't elaborate. Know only what everyone else knows: that the only reason any part of this is disclosed at all is because someone died during one of the experiments."

"What's that got to do with what's happening here?"

"That's what they were researching."

That seemed to click to some degree. At least, Curt seemed to understand a few of the larger pieces, perhaps the more obvious ones. "The colours?" In his head, there was an experiment, someone tried to make sense of whatever that was in their shared mindscape. Someone— a soldier, presumably, had died in the middle of these experiments, and now Owen had gotten tangled in this mess through his agency, and the two of them had been dropped into the same nightmare.

Owen nodded. "The colours."

At the moment he said that, a loud rumble disrupted their moment and forced their attention out into the expanse of nothing. Laughter— multiple sources with varying shrieks and gasps that couldn't be placed to a single source— burst from behind the wings, and from in front of them, and from the endless expanse of black that surrounded them. A loud crack followed, and Curt swore as the stage splintered beneath his feet. For a split second, his grip loosensed, and the next time the ground rumbled, they were torn apart by the growing crack in the stage. He staggered back, and the two of them ended on opposite sides of the stage, the crack between them growing and delving deeper into the unknown.

"Owen!" He called, trying to regain his footing but falling back.

"Curt! Hold on!" Owen yelled through the growing laughter, scrambling back to reach out for the pulley system backstage. He needed a foothold on something, a way to sturdy himself so he could regroup and think. It was too loud, he couldn't think in this kind of heat, with this kind of mess, and Curt, and-

Another crack. The stage was starting to fall away from itself, split not quite perfectly in two. Owen's breath ran short. In the swirls of colour and mayhem and possibilities, he saw a way out. One chance to get this right, and to make sure that they both survived the fall while they were still stuck here. He gripped the rope tight, levering himself further towards the crack, and looked to Curt. "You're gonna have to jump it!" He called, desperation winning over any attempts to stay sane. "Don't worry! You know I'll never let you down!"

"Are you crazy?!" Curt managed, staring into the gap. "I can't jump that, it's too far!"

"Curt, before the whole place splits in half, you have to get over here!"

"What if I don't make it?"

"Trust me! Please!"

Curt backed off a few paces. Owen stood ready, one hand gripping the rope wrapped around his wrist, and the other reaching out as far as he could, waiting for a move to be made. After a singular preparatory breath, he sprinted for the gap, and pushed off from the splintered wood at the edge.

He reached out.

Owen reached out.

Their fingertips connected briefly in the space, and then Curt slipped away beneath his grasp.

Owen threw himself forward, feeling the rope worming itself free and burning his wrist in the process. He'd promised. He wasn't going to let Curt fall. And he was nothing if not a man of his word.

Curt's eyes squeezed shut, preparing for an endless fall through the ineviatble. Something laced around his wrist and he felt himself stop moving. Exerting all the caution he knew to exert, he looked up, and caught a familiar whiskey brown staring back at him.

"I've got you!" Owen breathed, and Curt fought to angle himself so that he could get a better chance to grab the broken stage floor. When Owen started hauling backwards, Curt managed to get a hold of the edge of the stage, and made it a joint effort to haul him to his feet. "You're alright… You're okay…"

Curt essentially fell into Owen's arms. Owen held on tight, like he could lose his partner at any second to the swirls and the crevice. He stared out into the emptiness, ignoring the very real pain that he could feel at his wrist but cherishing the very reel feeling of Curt's shirt underneath his hands. The very air seemed to shift. Owen wasn't previously aware that colours could get angry, but this green that flooded the space behind his eyes was pissed. He could feel it.

So was he. Pissed, and way more desperate than a man ought to be.

"Alright," he muttered once, and Curt drew back ever so slightly. He noticed Owen was staring off into the greater expanse, and hoped for all it was worth that he couldn't see something out there.

"Alright!" His voice got louder, and he tried to mask his utter despair in an authorative tone. "I get it. You hear me? I get it!"

Everything fell eerily silent. The only sound that remained was the pounding of Owen's heart in his ears. He took a breath, strangely certain of himself. Glanced at Curt. Spared his attention on the void again.

"That soldier… Wilbur Cross? That was your fault, wasn't it? There's a good reason nobody can get very far into digs like these, and it's because you strive to kill them before they do. Nobody ought to know what's on the other side, and that's why nobody does…"

"Owen, what're you doing?" Curt whispered, but to no response and little avail. Owen was lost in whatever he was about to say.

"… But, I've heard talk of bargains being made here, so how about it?"

"Your desperation speaks for itself."

Owen had to pretend that that— the voice from the middle of nowhere or what it had said to him— didn't bother him in the slightest. He steeled himself, not sure where to direct his attention but knowing he'd probably have it right no matter what he chose. "What do you say, am I allowed to make a deal?"

The air shifted. Owen didn't receive a direct answer, but he knew that he'd been allowed to continue. "If I don't continue— if I go back, and tell my people that it's an impossibility, that it can't be done— would you let him go?" Another quick glance at Curt, as if the green something needed clarification, or as if he knew what he was signing himself up for.

Curt was frozen in place, his eyes wide. He'd heard every word as it echoed in the void, and he hated what it was implying. His gaze was fixed on Owen, fear blazing through his face. "No, Owen—" his voice came out weak. As far as literal interpretations go, that was not a good one. He didn't understand what was happening, but it terrified him to know that Owen was being so calm about this, while he could be selling his life away with nothing more than a few choice words.

Owen frowned, and muttered an apology he was sure only Curt would catch. The green grew angrier, setting a violent fire behind his eyes and forcing him onto his knees as the pain flooded his body.

"You better not be fucking with me."

"No! I— I wouldn't! I'm serious! I'll call it off, I swear on my life, just… He has nothing to do with any of this. It's not his fault."

The thing considered, holding Owen firmly in place while he deliberated. Curt couldn't move— he didn't dare, lest something happen to Owen that put him in more danger than he was already in. All he could do was force himself into keeping his breath steady, and not thinking about what a single wrong move could do to either of them. His eyes landed on the friction burn winding neatly around Owen's wrist, and he decided to focus on that for a while; the only other colour in a void of blackness and green.

"Very well."

That was the last thing Owen heard. Some part of his mind just shut down, and he collapsed to the floor of the stage. He didn't hear the way Curt screamed his name, or the return of the chorus of laughter. His eyes closed, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up with a start, underneath the sheets of his own bed, gasping for breath. He sturdied himself out, and once he was sure that he was real, and definitely in a familiar space, he looked over to Curt, and found him still asleep.

"Curt?" His voice was soft, but his mind was a knife point of tension. If that had gone wrong, then why was he the one to live through it ant not Curt? He tried again, biting his lip. "Curt..?"

Curt groaned. His eyes opened slowly. The relief that Owen felt hit him like a tidal wave.

For some reason, Curt was entirely surprised to see that Owen had made it through to the other side. He managed a weary smile, and tried to get his vision into focus. That was one of those decisions that he immediately came to regret. As soon as he brought himself a little more into the real worls, he noticed that the brown in Owen's eyes was stained with something else, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Dripping down his irises was a flash of toxic, unsettlingly bright green.

#spies are forever #saf #starkid #agent curt mega #owen carvour #star mail #void offering #nova's tags → #wiggly would have an absolute field day with owen and curt huh #bc desires run deep. they want each other. they want to be free... #but curt wants to not be haunted by the ghosts of his past #and owen wants to move on. to get a better future where he doesn't have to devote his life to an agency #might be fun to play around with

[northern-passage]

So I have a theory that every Hunter has something on the otherside of the Vel. It's how they're able to draw upon and use it, because of this connection.

It's also how Hunters are able to close rifts. Because you have to ask yourself: If the Hunter closes it on this side, who (or what, to be more precise) closes it on the otherside?

But I've been thinking about the entity from C2, and starting a new playthrough I'm at the part where the Hunter is remembering the Ladder and this passage comes up:

During a particularly rough segment of the Ladder you completely lost your appetite and had insomnia so bad you began to see things constantly, a dark shadow always looming just beyond your vision.

Now obviously this could just be what it says, a side effect of the Hunter's insomnia, but... is the dark shadow the creation of the Hunter's... "opposite"?

i'll say.. not quite. i suppose these are light spoilers, but i want to talk about it hehe and throw you all a bone (though most of you are already very close to getting it right)

the connection hunters have mainly pulls power from the dark magic of the Vel itself, and the magic present on the other side, rather than from any sentient beings (like how mages pull power from natural forces: fire, storms, etc). however, it can latch on to something and drain it if it's in the wrong place at the wrong time when the hunter opens the Vel - or if it's patiently waiting for the hunter on the other side, which is exactly what happens in the isolation district. if the hunter is the one that voluntarily opens the Vel, you'll get this line:

"There's a familiar presence with you now, the faint rattle of chains ringing in your ears, and you let it step into your shadow - let it step into //you//. Together, you break into a run across the courtyard."

the hunter is pulling power directly from the entity here because it was literally following them and waiting for the opportunity to get through to them. it tried previously with the wraith, but ultimately failed since both it and the wraith were weaker, and then again the night before by luring the hunter into the woods so it could see them alone, but it still wasn't strong enough to break all the way through, even though it did get the hunter to open the Vel then.

when the Vel is torn open by the hunter in the isolation district, they are doing it forcibly and deliberately - there is no resistance from them anymore, so the entity is finally able to break all the way through.

if you do not open the Vel, it will end up collapsing on its own, mainly due to the fact the Vel was already incredibly fragile there but also because the entity is pushing in on the other side. you'll get a different scene where it will actually speak to you, and even though the hunter tries to resist, they're too weak in that moment, and the entity is able to forcibly let itself in.

and while the entity does tend to take the shape of the hunter, that's not it's "true form" and it will change shape quite a bit as the story progresses. now that it has made direct contact and finally attached itself fully to the hunter, we're going to be seeing it a lot more 👀

so it's not the hunter's shadow, necessarily, though you are right about that specific line regarding the Ladder - that comment about the dark shadow was deliberate. the thing that's following the hunter has been following them for a long time, but it existed long before the hunter did.

#it's been following them but only now with the rot has it been able to more directly interact with them #and there is something else Happening in the wider world that is also making it stronger #but the rot makes the hunter more 'vulnerable' and receptive to... Creatures #and the thing did choose the hunter for a reason which they will briefly comment on if you get to talk to them #'we're a lot alike' #:-) #ask #anonymous #theory #tnp spoilers

[aewinty]

The way you heal me

Wednesday Addams x fem reader

Playlist

Part 1

You stormed out of Wednesday and Enid’s dorm, footsteps leaving a trail of desolation in his wake. If your tears weren’t flowing before, they definitely were now. You swung open the door to your dorm, quietly hoping your room safe wasn’t around to see you in your current state. Your request was fulfilled as she was nowhere in sight.

Flinging yourself on your bed was a bad idea - Wednesday’s scent still lingered on the sheets from the night before; a thought that urged more tears to spill. A quiet knock resounded from the door; one in which you ignored. If they really needed you they could send you a voice message on your phone. But they never left - the knocks persisted as you attempted to block out the noise with music in the background.

Grumbling, you stood up and pulled the door open to reveal Enid Sinclair. She gave you a look of pity when she saw your disheveled state before asking “can I come in?”. Wordlessly nodding, you opened the door a bit wider so she could slip in. You sat back down at your bed, hearing the door click before the soft padding of socks came towards you. You were grateful Enid sat right next to you as you opted to lean your head on her shoulder.

A couple of deafening minutes passed before Enid spoke up “Sooo.. what happened back there?”.

She could feel you physically stiffen before groaning. You picked at the skin near your fingernails, not feeling the need to answer her question at the moment.

“You don’t have to tell me Y/n; whatever you feel comfortable with saying is fine.”

You stayed quiet for a bit before speaking up, voice rasping as you did so. “I was just trying to get her to take a break Enid.”

“I understand that Y/n; Wednesday can always be a little stubborn.”

“She said it like I was pathetic for caring about her health.”You spat out the word while grimacing.

Enid sighed, grabbing your arm to make you look at her. “Listen, Wednesday doesn’t think you’re pathetic and you should be the first person to know so. I’ve seen the way she looks at you - like you’re the star of the world. So, instead of subjecting yourself to these deteriorating thoughts, how about we talk about how she shows she loves you?”

You seemed to contemplate her idea prior to obliging.

“She does this thing when I’m upset with something - like she kisses my ring finger to comfort me I don’t know how to explain”

“Great! So how does that make you feel?”

“Like I’m the only one she looks at” You say, cringing at your words.

“Because you are she only looks at you and when you enter, she stares at you like you’re the only one in the world. It’s kinda creepy to be honest..”

“Enid she also looks at you, Yoko and Bianca I’m not the only person she knows.”

“Okay but I swear she looks at you differently like I’m being real here she looks at everyone else the same but with you it’s not the same. And you’re her girlfriend for crying out loud!”

You chuckle a bit before frowning right after. “Then why did she..”

“Y/n it could be from the stress, the pressure, or even in the spur of the moment! I don’t know, but I definitely know that she didn’t mean it. Wednesday would never say that without a reason. She even tells me you’re the love of her life; the one that keeps her going. But enough of that - how else do you know she loves you?

“Well she also calls me Y/n/n but don’t tell her cause she will get mad..”

The night was full of laughter with a few breakdowns before turning right back up with the faint music playing from the disc in your room.

—

When you woke up Enid was nowhere to be found. You laid in bed, staring at the ceiling for a few solid minutes bracing yourself for the pounding headache you had.

Not feeling up for classes, you sent your friends a quick text telling them to tell the teacher that you would be absent. Finding yourself unable to lull yourself back to sleep, you settled for a cup of coffee and a random romcom you and Wednesday would never live in.

—

Wednesday’s book thudded on the table while she sat down in her seat beside Xavier.

“What has you so worked up??” He said while staring at Wednesday.

“Nothing that concerns you.” Wednesday responded, eyes never peeling from the door.

“Erm..okay” he said, diverting his attention away.

Wednesday’s eyes stared at the door in hopes of you to turn up.

Yoko came in

Then Bianca

Then Enid

Then Ms. Thornhill

Maybe you were just late? She thought

But you never showed up - you didn’t even attend your club with Eugene where you two would crack random bee jokes.

“Where’s Y/n?” Wednesday asked Enid.

“Probably at her dorm sobbing her eyes out because of something YOU blew up at her for.” Enid snapped at her

“I didn’t mean to hurt her”

“I had to stay with her all night while she cried her eyes out thinking you hated her for caring about you.”

Wednesday paused for a moment. “Is she okay?” She asked in an unusually quiet voice.

“I don’t know Wednesday you should ask her not me. Look, I know you don’t hate her but you have to apologize because right now she fully believed you loath her so you have to clear that up with Y/n - not me.”

Wednesday gave Enid a silent nod before pulling on her shoes to rush towards your dorm.

—

Your roommate shot Wednesday a weird glance when she entered your dorm room. “What are you doing here?”

With a quick glance, Wednesday could tell you weren’t there so she had no choice but to converse with your roommate. “Do you know where Y/n is?”

“Umm can you tell me why you are here first?”

“No.”

“Then no I don’t know where Y/n is.”

“Tell me”

“No.”

“Okay. Fine. I need to apologize to her for something.”

“THE Wednesday Addams apologizing? Never would’ve guessed.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes before asking “Can you tell me where she is now?”

“She’s right there” Your roommate said while pointing at the door Wednesday came in a few seconds prior.

Sure enough, you were standing there, eyes narrowed at Wednesday.

“Hey..?” You said slowly setting your drink down on your desk. You shot your roommate a look telling her to get out, which she did at that.

Wednesday watched you sit down at your bed, eyes staring intently at you.

“So..” You started

“I would like to apologize.”

“Oh.”

“I apologize. Can you forgive me?”

Knowing Wednesday had trouble expressing her emotions, you pushed on.

“Can you tell me why you’re apologizing?”

“I apologize for implying you were a burden to me.”

“And?”

“And I apologize for spouting that you weren’t able to assist me. I understand you care for my mental stability and insinuating that you would oppress me in the future was discourteous. Although I previously inferred you wouldn’t be a big presence in my future, I would like to retract those words. These past few hours have been displeasing without you - something I would normally crave for, but without you, that feeling is nothing to me.”

“Do you know how that made me feel?”

Wednesday grimaced. “It made you feel unhappy.”

“Not only did it make me feel unhappy Wednesday. It made me feel inferior. I understand that the Hyde case puts a lot of pressure on you but you can’t take that out on me. I’m similar to you. I get frustrated. I get stressed, but I don’t take it out on other people especially you. In the future, if you are uncomfortable with what I’m doing, you can just tell me and I will stop. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me.”

“It’s not that you made me uncomfortable. I presume the stress buildup caused me to lose my temper. For that, I apologize.”

“Wednesday you don’t have to apologize. Feeling stress is normal and you unconsciously get it. I understand that you didn’t know how to relieve it.”

Wednesday just gave you a ridged nod at that.

“Wednesday come here.”

She strides towards you until she stood in-front of you. You pulled her down into an embrace. Wednesday’s hands hung stiffly around your torso but not quite touching it. You chuckled at that.

“You know you can touch me I’m your girlfriend.”

At that, her hands rested at your waist. Your head buried itself into her neck, leaving a chaste kiss on the skin there. You pulled back, hands still intertwined behind her neck.

“I love you. Do you know that?”

“Yes.”

You pulled her chin towards you, giving her a quick peck on her lips.

“Say it back Wends”

“I love you too.” Wednesday muttered, pale cheeks growing into a dark red color.

You smiled, pulling her back into a heart searing kiss, sealing the emotions drawn from today behind you as a memory of strengthening your relationship.

A/n

Woo part two to The way you hurt me!! How did you like it?? Honestly idk if I do the comforting//apologizing part correctly/well bc I’m not really good with apologizing either. I also hope I portrayed each character accurately

If there are any mistakes in my writing please msg me or cmt it down - this is not reread at all

Always happy for constructive criticism!

Again thank you for reading and thank you for the notes on my last post!

#wednsday addams #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday #fem reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #enid sinclair #emma myers #female #female reader #x you #jenna x reader

[writella]

Hi! @sinsandsweetness mentioned you when I had requested something from them. Theirs was just so wonderful and needed that day.

I was wondering if you would be comfortable doing a variation of that idea. Daryl x fem!reader, gentle smut while reader needs some comfort and closeness. I understand if you wouldn’t want to.

Thank you so much.

Hi! ♡ Sure :) I can do that. Perhaps I can use it as an exercise for myself to write something shorter. I think this came out a little more fluffy than maybe you might have wanted but I still added in everything! Let me know what you think! And thank you so much for being my first anon and first request- this was so exciting for me!

Also, for any other readers, I ended up not needing to use pronouns so you can consider this afab!reader, but you can still picture it as a fem!reader, anon, it still works both ways. ♡

This includes some smut, soft!Daryl, both reader and Daryl feeling down, and both of them expressing their care for one another.

Your bedroom window is always three inches open. You knew Daryl could get through without the help, but him coming into your room at night had become a recognized habit, so you decided it was best to do it anyway. It was a sign that he was welcomed, that he didn’t always have to sneak in for whatever reason he did. You would have always let him in. He should have known that.

You didn’t question it though, talking about your feelings to him wasn’t your strong suit either. Especially not tonight when the light breeze blowing from your window touched the tears rolling down your cheek, making them chill.

You turned from it, just in case Daryl decided to come that night. You didn’t want to worry him or seem like a child. Bad things happen everyday in this world. You don’t see anyone else at camp crying all the time. Yet there you were, finding it hard to shake these feelings for the third night in a row.

You heard the sliding of the glass now, Daryl’s finger pressing up on the window to make it wider. He held the sides and put his legs through first. Normally this would have been seamless and silent, but Daryl was getting comfortable with this routine, becoming more lax with his stealth in this case.

You wiped your tears quietly, your hand movements very slow, not daring to move too far to the sides just in case he saw your fingers. You hoped he would just think you’re awake but not crying.

“You up?” He asks, his voice is a whisper, but nonetheless you hear his ever present rasp.

“Yes,”

He takes off his shoes, and his pants, and his vest, hanging it on the hooks of the back of your door. He sits on your bed then, just on the corner, his hands on his knees, motionless.

You look up at him, trying your best to make your inhale not sound like a sniffle. “Daryl?”

“Hm,”

“Are you okay?”

“Are you?” It’s a retort, but he says it just as genuinely and softly as you asked. “Why were you crying?”

You’re silent for a minute. Why is it as if you have all the words when you are alone, but the second someone is around, the second that someone shows they care, you are wordless? Your mind is so heavy, the thoughts spiraling, but your mouth is completely empty and dry. Speaking becomes impossible now. “I don’t know,” is all you can say.

You come up to him and sit beside him. He only looks at you quickly through the corners of his eyes, but keeps his head down, his hair in his face.

You hold his opposite shoulder and his leg and move your head into the crux of his neck, closing your eyes. Your hand then moves to his cheek, gently brushing up and down, feeling the bristles of his facial hair. It makes him lean into you.

Finally, his head turns to your face, your hand still resting at the side of his. Your thumb brushes over his sad eyes and his lips and he wipes your slow coming tears.

He kisses your nose, rubbing his into yours, until he starts to kiss your lips. His hand comes to your jaw and neck as he deepens it, laying you on the bed. The two of you move upwards until you reach your pillow again.

He delicately takes off your shirt, and pants, and underwear and you try to help him do the same.

He lays on you now and you hold his head and neck. His hands are at your hips as he slowly presses down on you, moving. You press up into him. He kisses your neck, peppering it lightly.

Afterwards, he pushes himself inside of you and moves only a little until his motions stop. His arms and body wrapping around you in totality. Your arms try their best to reach everywhere on his back, your movements so slow, delicate, and tender. You untangle pieces of his hair softly. He is inside of you, but truly you are hugging, embracing each other with love.

As a moment passes you finally whisper, “It’s so hard to pretend everything is okay all the time.”

You’re on the verge of tears again as you admit it. “There are things about the past that I don’t want back, ever, but some days I just really wish we didn’t have to fight… sometimes I just get so tired… sometimes I think I would-”

A scary thought comes that you decide not to share.

Daryl looks at you now, holding your head. It’s almost as if his hands are just that big as he holds both sides. You feel the warmth radiating off of them to your cheeks and your ears. He puts his forehead against yours, sending all his love through to you. “We don’t gotta pretend in here.”

He kisses your lips again, it’s sweet and light. You’ve never felt him do it like this before.

He begins to truly move inside you now. Your arms wrap around his middle back, it’s like you’re still hugging until he takes your hands in his, resting them parallel to your head as he holds on and he pumps just a bit faster, creating a deep and steady rhythm.

His head is curled into your neck as you sigh into him, his body making you feel a release from your worries. It causes him to meet your eyes again but they are closed. He kisses you once more, ‘I love you,’ his lips are truly saying as they melt into you, ‘It’ll be okay. I’ll make it okay. Just for you.’

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #twd fanfiction #twd smut #afab reader #daryl dixon x afab!reader #💌 ask answered 💌 #anons ♡ #wonders with writella #wonderings with daryl

[2truehearts]

✦ — BUT DARLING, YOU ARE THE ONLY EXCEPTION.

✦ CHARACTER/S︰ijekiel alpheus & lucas from wmmap (who made me a princess).

✦ SYNOPSIS︰love can bloom and burn in any heart at the first sunlit-brindled brief—whether it be bounded by duty, ice, or disbelief; as long as that epitome of affection is you, they suppose they can make an exception and make some space—or in which they fall in-love with you first glance and sight.

✦ CONTENT WARNING/S︰nothing other than one swear word (fuck), & the general fluff and infatuation (from the character/s) + everything is proofread with the wc 200 - 300 each.

✦ A/N︰making my debut as a manhwa writer on main is not the ideal move but idk where to post it okay (side eyes the 2367838 sideblogs under this one/silly (also the title is inspired by "the only exception" by paramore <3 it's bleeping awesome go and give it a listen!!))

IJEKIEL IS NOT ONE TO FALL IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, to have his world still for a few seconds while his heart overrides and blood races to the forefront of his cheeks—but dear heavens, were you the only exception to that rule bound by duty and a planned future in his chest. you surely weren’t the epitome of grace or as enchanting as the gods, but to him you were enough—more, than enough, truly.

he first met you in an arrangement of his father and your parents from your vague childhood—but oh, how he remembers every second of that first meeting. when the doors opened to you bowing in front of him with a barely-hidden smile of excitement curving the tips of your mouth to look at him with big, bright eyes of wonder staring directly at the copy of the sun—not once backing down to blink or burn away from awe and fluster. so ijekiel does that instead.  his skin flares with the color of blooming carnations, sunlight-prickled hues wide from childish panic at the sudden increased beating of his heart.  was something wrong with him? he felt light-headed and dizzy, stomach twisting, tossing and turning as if he was about to faint from merely seeing you presented before him like the finest muse of a pristine piece of art, incomparable to anything else other than itself. what should he do? should he compliment you? should he act indifferent and use a practiced smile? his mind is trying to adjust to the drastic changes of his swayed heart, but the boy just can’t seem to do just that when he’s faced with a fairytale protagonist right in front of him—and he blinks, catching something from the corner of his eye—and is brought back down to earth when he sees his father’s questioning gaze. then, bows with a smile, greeting you further in to sit down and perhaps enjoy a cup of tea with him?  you said yes out of common courtesy, but that only made his smile grow wider.

LUCAS FIRMLY DOES NOT BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, like come on—who believes in love like that these days? naive little kids? newly adolescent noble ladies? men of high and poor status? it’s simply too . . . unlikely to actually happen in his eyes. the butterflies when you meet “the love of your life’s” eyes? could be the early signs of constipation. the flush in your cheeks when there’s too much prolonged eye contact with them and the dizziness of your heart and mind? could be an oncoming migraine, headache, or a sign you're being possessed by some evil spirit, y’know? anyways, enough joking aside—the point is, he finds the subject some far-fetched fairytale that is highly impossible even with the magic he has—that is, until, you waltz into his life. the things he feels when he's around you is something that could be described as a contradiction. the first gazing into your eyes turns the world upside and back again, the first brush against your fingertips suck all the air out of his chest, the first chuckle that he manages to rouse from deep within your giddy joy paints him a shade darker than his eyes from head to toe—holy fuck were there a lot of firsts that made him experience everything and anything all at once; with most he can't even explain properly without sounding so . . lovesick. god do you make him sick to the last bone with whatever sorcery you possess. in short; when in love, lucas is everything that correlates to being stupidly infatuated and is constantly reeling himself in by a hair’s breadth back to the surface when you smile, laugh, or simply exist next to him—like, can you imagine how utterly moronic it is to see how degenerate he’s become from before you?! . . . but, if it makes you happy, he’ll gladly be idiotic for the rest of his life (though, that depends if you're gonna annoy him or not).

✦ — @khasmies 2023.

#― ❛ babbles .ɞ⋆ ˚｡૮ ˶•~•˶ ა #this ain't getting any traction i'm calling it now shfhdkhfshskd #but meh i enjoyed writing it #ALSO GO READ WMMAP (who made me a princess) #IT'S GONNA GIVE YOU THE MOST HEART-WRENCHING SECOND MALE LEAD SYNDROME OF UR LIFE I PROMISE #anyways. the tags #ijekiel alpheus #wmmap ijekiel #who made me a princess #wmmap #manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #ijekiel x reader #ijekiel alpheus x reader #wmmap x reader #who made me a princess x reader #lucas x reader #wmmap lucas #suddenly became a princess one day #wmmap athanasia #athanasia de alger obelia #athanasia x reader #manhwa #q #also the queue tag is still the same hjdsjhfd i'm not changing that one #anyways this is scheduled for sunday aug 6 (unless i get it wrong (which i most likely will but hey that's alright methinks))

[xan-from-space]

Honestly if any Dungeon Meshi character deserved an expanded role in the series, it should have been Rin. She's the character to me who most feels like her story is incomplete and glossed over...probably the one instance where the manga actually frustrated me with its refusal to engage with her as a character in favor of Kabru.

I mean, the backstory Kui gives her in the extra content is, like all of them, really well thought out, but in the manga itself a lot of the time she kind of just exists as an accessory to Kabru? Like, she's the Girl who Likes Kabru to Establish that Girls Like Kabru...there's a couple moments in the manga where we see hints of a deeper character, but most of her story is relegated to the extra content...which sucks because I think her role in the story and especially her history with the elves is so incredibly important to understanding the wider world.

Because we mostly learn about the elves through the eyes of Kabru, and while Kabru didn't have a great experience with the elves for sure, he was doted on, a golden child. We do learn that Rin was treated terribly by the elves in the manga, but again, we learn it through Kabru's words and it's not really something that's focused on. I think Kabru has genuinely good intentions and cares a lot about humanity, but unconsciously he has a tendency to treat people like pawns in a similar way that the elves do; part of his character arc is learning to be actually genuine with people, but that only actually happens once he's separated from the rest of his party, with people he barely knows. It makes sense for him and the place he's at, but I can't imagine how frustrating that must have been for Rin, who doesn't really have anyone else. She's trapped in an unresolved character arc, left in this limbo space of chasing after someone who just doesn't have the same reliance on her that she has on him.

If I were writing the manga, I would have made her a character of equal importance to Kabru. Rin would balance out his role in the story...she's more pessimistic than him, for good reason, and despite or maybe because of the ease in which he traverses the social and political worlds, in many ways I think she understands the world better than him. I want to see the world from her perspective, to learn more about what her view of the dungeon is and why she's supporting Kabru in his quest to become the next dungeon lord, to see her grapple with her trauma, for her to have to learn to lead the party when Kabru isn't there, for her to come into her own as a character. I also feel like she just would fill out the main cast in a really satisfying way...she could easily be a narrative foil for so many characters, Kabru obviously, but also Marcille, Izutsumi (God, think about the potential interaction between Rin and Izutsumi), Thistle maybe, there's probably more if I spent more time thinking about it

Also kind of going on a tangent here but she's sooo ignored on the fandom side. Frankly I think that whatever Rin and Kabru have going on is just as interesting if not more so than the relationships between Kabru and Laios and between Kabru and Mithrun, but I don't think I've seen a single post or art piece on this website where she's present in his life at all (or even not present in an intentional way that would serve her character.) To be clear I'm not saying that I ship them or whatever (kind of hate that word tbh) or think they should end up in a romantic relationship (I really do not think they should end up in a romantic relationship). But like. Come on. They're so important to each other's characters and she can't just be written out of his story.

#second choice for character I think deserved more time is yaad #rin dungeon meshi #rinsha fana #kabru of utaya #rinsha you deserve the world I would treat you better than him #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi meta #dunmeshi

[auras-moonstone]

Can you write one about Jack or Ethan where it’s based on the song speak now by Taylor swift where the reader is gonna get married but then something dramatic happens or something like that 😭

speak now — ethan landry

word count: 2,057

pairing: slytherin!ethan landry x slytherin!fem!reader

summary: y/n is forced to marry another man, but ethan was around when the preacher said "speak now."

author’s note: was it necessary for this to be a harry potter au? nope. but arranged marriages are common in the wizarding world so i said why not 🤷🏼‍♀️

Y/N Y/L/N CAME FROM A PRESTIGIOUS FAMILY OF PURE-BLOOD WIZARDS. And like most pure bloods, her family shared traditional and archaic ideas that pushed her down the rabbit hole she was now trapped in.

It had been the cruelest of summers. She had found out that she was getting married to one of the most disgusting boys she had ever met. Enzo was a Slytherin, just like her, and was constantly strutting around the castle, with his chin held high like he was better than everyone, and constantly bullying those who weren't pure bloods—Ethan Landry being his constant punch ball. Hence why Y/N hated Enzo so much.

Ethan was Y/N's best friend. He was also a Slytherin, but unlike most of the students in there, he was a muggleborn. Their connection had been instant, and Y/N had surprised Ethan with her open mind and kind heart despite her backgrounds. She was his only friend, due to the rest of the house looking at him as if he were dust under their shoes, but he didn't care—Y/N was all he needed. He had become so accustomed to being by her side that on summers he felt empty, and spent all those months counting the days until they were back at Hogwarts.

When he found her on an empty wagon, his smile couldn't have been wider. Y/N's mood lifted up a bit, but her smile wasn't as lively as usual. Ethan noticed she was paler, she had dark bags under her eyes and her gaze had flickers of sadness.

"Hey... what's wrong, love?" Ethan wrapped her in his arms.

"I missed you, E. This summer has been hell, and it's only going to get worse." Y/N said, trying to hold back the tears, but her voice gave her away.

"What happened?" he asked worried.

"I'm getting married. My dad arranged it. I'm going to be Enzo's wife in a month."

Ethan's world stopped. His body grew still, his surroundings froze and his joy turned into ashes. The idea of her with another boy made him want to throw up, but the thought of her being forced to marry someone she didn't want? It made him furious, made him want to scream and avakedavra everyone but her.

"What happens if you say no?" Ethan managed to ask.

"They will disown me, probably kick me out of the house"

"That is not so bad, isn't it? I mean, it is bad, but worse than being married to that pig?"

"Eth... I have no one else, nowhere to go. And yeah, marry Enzo is not ideal but that doesn't mean I have to... do romantic stuff, right? I won't kiss him, or even share a room with him." she said hopeful.

"For now, Y/N/N. Now it's only marriage, but soon it'll be about expanding the bloodline, you know that."

"Yes, I know." and that's the moment she started to sob. "I have no choice, Eth."

"Live with me." he blurted, making her look at him in shock. "I'll talk to my dad. We are three siblings, but we can share a bed, or I'll take the couch and you can sleep on my bed. We'll see, but please Y/N you can't marry him."

"Eth, that's so nice but I can't accept that offer. I'll be completely cut off, so I won't be able to pay for the food or the rent, or the stuff for school. And I sure as hell won't let your dad pay for me, even if he says yes."

"But-"

Y/N cut him off "That is my final word, Eth. Please, I don't want to keep talking about it. I just want to be with you and forget about everything else. Tell me about your summer."

"It was okay. I missed you like crazy, though. I kept expecting to hear your voice and your contagious laugh" he said. Their eyes met, and the room got thick with tension. There was a big elephant in the room, and he was determined to address it. "Been thinking all summer about what happened at King's Cross at the end of the year."

"I shouldn't have done that." Y/N shook her head.

"You regret it?" his voice came out in a whisper because the words she said had cut him deep.

"I didn't, until my father told me he basically sold me to Enzo." she said. "That kiss was all I ever wanted. You are everything I ever wanted, and for a few days, I thought I could have. Now, you're everything I ever wanted but can't have."

"Says who?"

"Um, my father? Enzo? Enzo's family?"

"Who gives a fuck about them?" he said bluntly. Before she could open her mouth, he continued. "Do you want to be with me?"

"Ethan of course I want to be with you, but-"

"Then be my girlfriend, I want to be with you, too." he grabbed her hands.

"I can't be your girlfriend only for a month, Ethan. That's not fair to you."

"Who says it should only be for a month?"

"You're not making sense right now. I'm getting married."

"Yeah, and I'll still be your boyfriend. No one has to know what we do."

"That's bloody crazy, Landry. What happens when I have to... get pregnant, form a family." God, the thought disgusted her but it was the truth. That was women's purpose in the pure blood community—to marry and have children.

Ethan's jaw clenched. "Don't say that."

"You said it yourself minutes ago. No matter how much we hate it, it's the truth. That is my future."

"Then let's be together until the day of the wedding" he said defeated. The word ‘wedding’ made his stomach turn. "I don't want to be left wondering what we could've been together. Let's enjoy the time we have, let yourself enjoy the freedom you have left."

Ethan was right. She was not going to let those devils ruin the last few days of happiness she had left. She could see the end even as it began. But he was standing there, so tall and handsome as hell, and he made her so happy that she couldn't refuse. "Okay."

"Yeah?" he said surprised.

Y/N smiled and nodded. "Yes. Let's do it. I want to be with you."

"Can I kiss you now? I've been waiting the whole summer."

"God, yes."

The couple exited the train with swollen lips, messy hair, wrinkled clothes and sparks flying around them.

THIRTY DAYS LATER, IT WAS TIME TO CAGE THOSE SPARKS AND LOCK THEM FOREVER. Both teenagers spent their last night tangled up together, with Ethan's hands in her hair and clothes on the floor of the room of requirements.

The memory of Ethan sleeping so peacefully on her shoulder was a memory that would follow Y/N around forever. It was going to haunt her and break her heart every single time because she would never get to see it again. He wasn't the one he was going to wake up next to, and the realization took her down. Once she was out of that door, her life of eternal sadness would begin.

"Good morning, love." his familiar voice whispered on her ear.

"Hi, handsome." she smiled sadly. "How is it that you look this gorgeous even first thing in the morning?"

"I don't know, I should ask you that." he kissed her collarbone.

They spent a few minutes in silence, holding each other. But Y/N knew it was time to go. In a few hours, she would have the weight of a ring on her finger. "Eth..."

"Just a few more seconds, please." his voice was thin, and his eyes were shut trying not to let the tears fall.

"I don't know if this is going to make things worse, but I need you to know. Eth, you are the love of my life."

"You are the love of my life, too. Knew it since the first time we met, when you jinxed that asshole who called me a mudblood."

"I'm the knight in shinning armour to your damsel in distress" Y/N joked.

"I love you" Ethan said grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles, never taking his eyes off hers.

"I love you, too." but I have to go, were the words that she didn't say but floated in the air. Ethan nodded, and she got up put her clothes on and dragged her feet towards the door, her steps as heavy as the pain in her heart. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and left, leaving her happiness behind.

ETHAN'S INVITATION HAD BEEN WITHDRAWN BY THE LOVELY BROOM-TO-BE. Yet, he was not going to let Y/N feel alone in that awful day, so he sneaked inside the church and hid in the curtains. He had a good view of the whole scene—the guests, Enzo’s snotty little family, who had chosen an awful pastel theme, Enzo standing straight in his light grey suit and the preacher behind him.

Then an organ started to play a song that sounded like a death march. Seconds later, the wide tall wooden doors opened and Y/N entered in her flowy lilac dress. Scanning the room, her eyes caught sight of Ethan and after the shock disappeared, she had to bit back a smile. She knew this was hard for him too, so the fact that he still went to support her made her love him even more.

His eyes followed her figure until she stopped in front of Enzo. On the outside, they looked great. Her dress had little grey details that matched his suit and they both were extremely good-looking. But it didn't matter how handsome Enzo was, Ethan knew Y/N wished the one standing beside her at the altar was him.

Once the attention of the people was at the front of the room, Ethan sat on the last row alone. His focus was on the beautiful bride, who was trying to mask her sadness with a fake and tense smile. He frowned in discontent. He couldn't let her become her signature, he couldn't let her live an unhappy life.

And then, he heard the preacher say, "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

The complete silence that embraced the room after those words was interrupted by the screeching sound of the wooden bench. It wasn't until he felt eyes on him that Ethan realized he had stood up, and then his senses came back at once. His hands were shaky and sweaty, his mouth was completely dry and his breath got caught in his throat. He could feel the horrified looks of everyone in the room, but he was only looking at her.

"I don't know what I'm doing, to be completely honest. I never thought I would ever barge in on a white veil occasion, but I can't let you do it, Y/N/N. You shouldn't be marrying the wrong boy. Please, don't say yes."

Enzo was practically killing him with his eyes, and if there weren't so many people around, he may have thrown the killing curse at him. But right now, Ethan would take every curse and jinx if it meant Y/N's life wouldn't become a hellhole.

"Ethan..." it was the only thing that came out of her mouth. Her head was spinning like a tornado.

"No, you need to hear me out" he begged. "It's going to be difficult, but we're going to get through it together. You are the love of my life, and I'm yours. Please don't marry him. Let's ran away now. I love you"

"Y/N stop this nonsense. Someone guide the mudblood out."

Before Y/N knew it, her clenched fist impacted with Enzo’s face and gasps echoed in the room. "Don't you ever insult my boyfriend again. Don't test me, Enzo. I know more dark curses than you could ever imagine, and I'd love to try them on you."

She took her heels off and ran down the aisle and into Ethan's arms. "Holy shit, that was so hot. I love you." he yelled as they sprinted out of the church hand in hand.

Y/N laughed. She felt happy, free and completely fearless. "I love you too. I'm so glad you were around when they said speak now."

#ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #ethanlandry #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #jack champion oneshot #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion imagine #jackchampion #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic #slytherin x slytherin #harry potter au #slytherin ethan landry

[mooncheese3]

au wherein when sj first got into the sect and went down to the brothel, he runs into a young wannabe rogue cultivator

the rogue was, well, roguish— rough, rule detesting, and flighty. handsome. brown eyes and warm cheeks, most likely a slight sunburn (because of course he doesnt have a hat). he looked around sjs age, if a bit older. more height than muscle, but with time and experience sj reckons he’d grow broader as well. the only thing that caught sj’s eye at the time though… was his terrible spending habits!

what was he doing, getting scammed out of his coins over some sword tassels of all things. atrocious!!!!!!

if theres one thing sj cannot stand and can relate with sqh, its detesting those who cannot use their money right. his shitty day adds onto his anger, so rather than leaving it alone, sj goes over to the pair of merchant and customer, scolding the merchant first and then the rogue cultivator. the rogue, new to this living out of his mansion thing (his previous life as the fourth son with too much freedom couldnt compare to now, he doesnt even have people to fall back on for funds!), decides, ‘hey, this persons nice enough to tell me i did something wrong, why not keep going to him for help?’

the rogue camps out at that town, always there to pester sj once he comes down the mountains. sometimes sj lectures him, sometimes sj scolds him, and sometimes he simply observes how sj acts around the streets and notes down whatever he gleans. it goes on for weeks, until finally the rogue (and secretly sj) feels like he can survive out there—all he needed now was experience, something he cant get with just the knowledge he now has

after that, sj expects to never see him again. when people get what they want, they leave. thats just what happens, simple as that.

but then, to sj’s astonishment, he meets the rogue again! not on accident, mind you.

“well, we’re friends now!” the rogue says, “/and/ i saw an imitation of one of your paintings at an auction and was like, ‘i should visit’”

sj immediately thinks that isn’t true. there must be something else the rogue wants from him.

and so once in a while, at least once or twice every two months, sj continues to encounter the rogue whenever he goes down the 12 peaks. each time, sj’s doubts ever so slightly melt away. and each time they meet again, they both note to themselves that the other has changed.

sj notices how the rogue comes back with a harsher tan, wider now in his frame. hes more confident and mature, more streetsmart and wise. the guy isn’t so prone to impulse, now taking the time to think before doing something. a small improvement, to be honest, since he still goes and does something foolish, just with a backup plan—though sj bets theyre made up on the spot most times (he also finally invested in a cloak— apparently he has a thing against hats? sj’ll find out one day, he’s sure)

the rogue on the other hand notices how sj comes back more refined, more otherwordly in aura. his quips and witty remarks have taken on a new level, he probably needs to go back to reading to get half of the references! he walks smoother, and each step he takes looks as light as a feather—how does he do that! (worryingly, the rogue also notices how sj always looks like he’s being weighed down, and that his walls are higher than ever before. did something happen?)

the day sj realizes the rogue is the first person to not want to take something from him, and who he’s sure wont leave, even if the time spent together is so much lesser than being spent apart, he feels…scared. anxious, as if now that he’s been made aware, the world will now make it its mission to take this one thing away from him. for the first time, instead of driving the rogue away like all the others, he feels compelled to stick as close as possible. being away from the sect is an added bonus.

the rogue likes this change, though is confused as to what brought this on. oh well, the company is nice! now he can show sj all the little things that reminded him of sj he found on his travels. like this one staff being displayed in a shop: it was such a pretty shade of green! or, or this one lake in a cave, the ripples would be nice to paint right? especially when the light from those bioluminescent vines hit the water.

sometimes they get separated on their travels, but they always find each other again. unconsciously, instances like these help heal sj’s fears.

in short the two of them go from strangers, to acquaintances, to friends (in the distant future lovers AAAAA)

sidenote: rogue guy is like, similar to lqg in how he goes about his morals. hes a do good, think about it later, type of guy. while lqg’s a do good, DONT think about it ever, type of guy.

he got disowned by his family because he exposed them for selling counterfeits, tax evasion, import and export of illegal items etcetc to the authorities. while he doesnt regret doing the right thing, he does regret doing it loudly and without a plan. the family members he knew were innocent, who he didnt at least warn beforehand so that they can get away/cut ties before all of it goes to shit, were and will continue to be shamed by everyone they come across for the crimes the rest of the family committed

#original shen qingqiu #shen jiu #original male character #oc doesnt look so stick like bc he put on a lot of layers. dont be fooled. #svsss #mxtx

[copperbadge]

would you mind talking a little about enjoying traveling solo? I've always wanted to explore, but so many people paint traveling as this group activity, and I've always felt bad not having friends to do it with

My god, how much time do we have?

So, I could indulge in a little free therapy here and talk about some fucked-up experiences of travel I had as a child, but that's not really applicable, so...let's leave it at the fact that until I was out on my own, I didn't get to pick what happened to me on trips. I do often travel with my friends, who are always up to do the dumb shit I concoct for us, but any travel with another person involves compromise, and sometimes I just don't want to compromise, or to irritate my friends. Even though I know they probably won't be, I still worry they will, and sometimes I don't want to worry.

I also never internalized the idea that doing things alone was sad or weird. It's a social cue that I completely missed. The first time a friend of mine randomly came across me eating alone in a restaurant in college, she said, "Sam, why are you eating alone?" and I said, baffled, "Because I wanted dinner?"

I was twenty years old before it occurred to me that other people would feel strange eating alone in a restaurant, and then only because she told me she'd be too self-conscious. I was thirty before I realized most people would be self-conscious traveling alone, something I'd been doing since I was seventeen. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to be with other people -- some people love company or are nervous traveling alone or just plain don't get the appeal, and that's entirely fine.

But I love knowing that everything I do is for me alone. I can go to the weird museum or check out the odd store or do strange secret things to delight myself and never worry that I'm making life unpleasant for someone. I can be as selfish as I want. That's very rare for me and very precious. Also why I will probably never have a permanent romantic partner, but that's also free therapy for some other time.

The truth is, when you are alone, nobody actually knows that. Yes, if you're the only person at your table in a restaurant you're obviously alone, but nobody knows you aren't just getting a bite to eat before meeting up with your many cool friends. I don't look at anyone I see out in the world and go "Oh sad sack, look at them without anyone to hang out with." I think most of us worry everyone is saying that, and none of us actually are saying that.

And when I have been asked if I'm with someone and said, "Oh, I'm traveling on my own", people universally react with envy. "That must be amazing. I couldn't do it," or "I've never gone on a trip by myself, is it fun?" I've never had anyone say or imply that I'm a loser who couldn't find someone else to travel with. Quite the reverse.

Recently I had the thought that if I was more afraid of being alone I would probably have more intimate friendships or at any rate a much wider social circle, because I would need someone else to go with me on adventures and I would have to internalize the idea that it's okay to inconvenience or bore someone else at times, which I never really have. But that's kind of a tautology; "if I was less okay being alone I'd be less alone" is cyclical reasoning, when the truth is I'm someone who is a little fucked up about other people but also just genuinely enjoys solitude.

I love my friends, and I try very hard to form strong bonds with them despite that being really hard for me. I do get lonely, and I spend more time alone than is probably good for me. I get very anxious before solo trips. But I will also always need times when I am alone and only ever have to worry about myself. And once I'm launched on the trip I fucking love it. There are very few joys to rival walking out early in the morning into a strange city and knowing that the day and the city are both yours and yours alone.

Also sometimes I pretend I'm a spy, or an art historian on the trail of a stolen painting, or an academic writing a very important book. That's fun as hell.

Anyway, even when I do travel alone my friends are only a text message away, and I get to see cool stuff that I bring back to my room at night and share with all of you. I love sharing my adventures with you guys.

So yeah. My thesis is that nobody will even notice you're alone and if they do they'll probably think you're fucking cool for doing it, and meanwhile you get to do exactly what you want and nothing you don't. I think everyone should at least try it. You don't have to do a four-country trip through Europe for your first time out; you can just find something in another city that you want to see -- a museum or a zoo or a play or a cool burger joint -- book a trip, arrive Friday night and leave Sunday afternoon. And if it turns out you don't like traveling alone, that's okay too. There's no inherent moral virtue in being alone any more than there is in not wanting to be.

I just think it's super cool to sometimes go haring off on my own and do dumb shit. :D

#travel #sam travels #solo travel

[snapscube]

i don't know if you said so on your recent Web of Shadows stream, but what are your thoughts on Insomniac's more casual style of web swinging vs. the more difficult, physics-based web swinging? I've been avoiding Spider-Man 2 footage, so I haven't seen any web swinging, but I'd love if they could incorporate some risk/reward aspect to make swinging more engaging.

i think there's been a big push from spider-man game fans to re-contextualize Insomniac's web swinging as underwhelming and too casual that's kinda unnecessary and does it a big disservice. THAT IS NOT TO SAY that there haven't always been people who don't prefer the very low skill floor and relatively low skill ceiling of those titles, and that's also not to say that it isn't a fair assessment when looking at swinging mechanics in a vacuum. something like Web of Shadows ABSOLUTELY has a lot more rewarding moments of web swinging because of its higher skill floor, and when you really get a feel for the mechanics you can pull off some crazy stuff that it feels like insomniac's take isn't even dreaming of.

HOWEVER, i reiterate, this is all totally true and not exactly in Insomniac's in favor when examined in a vacuum, but in reality these mechanics DON'T exist in a vacuum. they're very important yes, they're how you're gonna spend a majority of your time in game yes, so it's important that they have a baseline level of fun and satisfying enough risk/reward to sustain an entire playthrough, or maybe even multiple. but Insomniac's swinging mechanics are in service of a game that not only does MORE with its open world than many others previously, but also does pretty much everything else a LOT better. Insomniac's take feels a lot more like it's in service of creating a much more approachable Spider-Man sim, where you don't have to necessarily "figure out" the swinging mechanics as much as you might in WoS or in SM2 (PS2) because there's a lot of content they want you to be spending more of your time on, and they need you to feel like you are playing an extremely capable and seasoned version of Peter.

playing through even just the opening of Web of Shadows on stream this week really drove home how much the world just feels so empty in comparison. the swinging was admittedly more fun at times!! but that kinda ended up being the saving grace of an experience that otherwise is feeling very bare-bones. and ultimately, as much as i PERSONALLY like mechanics with a bit more physicality, and i don't necessarily think that needs to be at odds with a larger amount of other content, i think my point is that i don't necessarily consider the swinging a FLAW of the Insomniac games, just a representation of the design philosophy of this take. and the design philosophy happens to be one i really appreciate. they want you in there DOING stuff, sure swinging around idly is fun and it's a great way to get you from point A to point B in a more exhilarating fashion than a lot of games even come close to, but these games have a much wider target audience and i don't know how much the average person cares more about the physicality of swinging as much as they care about it being an easy way for them to..... *sigh* feel like spider-man while traversing a larger set of activities.

THAT BEING SAID.... the improvements so far in Spider-Man 2 look SO SO SO GOOD and they will come MUCH appreciated. It looks so much faster. I straight up might turn on fall damage for my playthrough, which IS a new option they added. it's gonna rule.

[ladyluscinia]

I'm already so sick of how the fallout of ofmd season 2 has snowballed into people on here going "fandom these days just can't handle Bad Things happening in media-- newsflash, characters have to get hurt and die, grow up!" all condescending like. First of all, in the context of Izzy, most people I've seen discuss his death agree that they would've accepted and enjoyed his death if it had just been handled appropriately, and also. "You just can't handle bad things happening to your fave!" Bruh. We were all partying it up when Izzy lost his fucking leg and was suffering physically and mentally. It can be FUN to see your blorbo suffer!

And that is just one example of a larger trend on this site-- people are really gonna come onto the "we love putting our blorbos in the blender and watching them struggle and suffer" site and say "kids these days can't handle Bad Things happening to their blorbos." Sorry, but that's just nonsense. Fandom loves their fix-its, but they also love shattering their faves. The problem has never been Bad Things happening in general, but HOW those things are framed within the narrative and how that narrative is told. The problem is when something is out of place in its genre, or when it goes against a promise the show has made, or when suffering is used flippantly and uncaringly, or when a character suffers and suffers and then just when they've finally caught a break, they're kicked down again, just for a cheap tug at your heartstrings.

Both within the context of ofmd AND in a wider fandom context, fandoms LOVE when our blorbos are hurt, as long as our blorbos are hurt RIGHT.

... And I think it sure is Something that a fandom can have a rampant issue with fans of a character being harassed and sent death threats and that's just "normal fandom being fandom" but god forbid people feel Emotions. About a Character and a Show. And dare to react by... just Offering Criticism! No, death threats are "fandom culture that comes with the territory," but if you vent post or criticize a writing decision in media, THAT'S being "hysterical" and "overly emotional" and "truly frightening behavior!" I just LOVE (big sarcasm) how back when people were getting doxxed and threatened for liking a guy, the fandom was all *cricket noises,* but NOW suddenly everyone is "terrified and exhausted by fandom's volatility" and "concerned about the fragile mental health of fans" when you simply say "damn that episode sucked and I sure am sad about it."

The OFMD fandom was toxic as fuck for a year and a half and continued to be toxic as fuck for all the airing of S2, so hardly surprising that the aftermath of S2 appears to be... toxic as fuck.

Least surprising thing in the world is that the people who hated Izzy and passively or actively supported driving his fans out of the fandom for "ruining it for everyone else" now think his fans should leave the fandom if they are so upset and stop leveraging "baseless criticism" at the show that is "ruining it for everyone else." They have normal not-at-all-parasocial relationships leading them to directly @ David Jenkins and thank him for a season that somehow managed to be both flawless and have all its flaws blamed on MAX, but those wretched Izzy stans have horrible-evil-parasocial relationships making them harass the crew by *footage not found*

If Mr. Jenkins decides to go scroll the #ofmd s2 tag on tumblr and stumbles across me - a random blog and icon - outlining how I think he fucked his show up, that's pretty clearly on him? This is tumblr. I have no relationship with this man or obligation to tailor every word I say as if he's bound to see it and going to take it personally???

I'm actually a big proponent of "Don't @ the cast and crew about pretty much anything" because the same fandom mentality that makes you think you can randomly ask him about your headcanon like you're chatting is what all these people are melting down about if someone directly goes "hey you killed my favorite character and that makes me mad!" - same fucking people, same fucking parasocial relationship. The standard of "only @ them for good things" is the flimsiest fucking line, as any ao3 writer who has received unsolicited "constructive criticism" or "advice" can tell you.

If we want to snidely get into "what this is really about" well it's the same fucking thing it was before:

People substituting subjective opinion as objective fact with zero self-awareness of doing so. "I liked this so it's good." "I didn't like this so it's bad." "I got bad vibes from that character so he was clearly written to be horrendous and unlikable." "I sympathized with this character so anyone suggesting he has flaws is demonizing him."

Or the deepest circle of fandom hell: "I think [insert identity] rep is so important and this piece of media fits into however I personally define 'good rep', therefore it is flawless and/or morally significant enough to be above criticism."

...which, yeah, leads to temper tantrum levels of fandom infighting, especially since people online express, fairly frequently, "I didn't like it because it was bad" and then present evidence for their point. And also a lot of fandom likes bad TV. Or even just mediocre TV that's entertaining.

I personally was not going to be happy about any person beyond one-offs, blatant villains, and background randoms dying because "they had to" (for their own arc or someone else's) because I fundamentally think if you believe you've written yourself into that corner in a workplace comedy that's built around a main romance arc... you're kinda stupid. Yes, even if it's pirate themed. Enough injuries have been walked off and lampshaded to confirm that part is aesthetic.

The fandom wiki for The Office lists 11 deceased characters. Three of them are fictional characters who die in an action-movie episode. Two are one-offs that get named dropped seasons later as having died offscreen. One of them is an offscreen cat, who appears to have had a more significant death plotwise and emotionally than any of the humans, and another is a woman who literally exists as a picture someone makes up a personality for and then discovers the real woman died. The most significant character on the list is a temp boss that got a four episode story arc about being a useless idiot who died in the hospital after a basketball dunking accident.

That is a show that ran for 9 seasons and over 200 episodes. It's pretty universally regarded as good, and the cringe asshole boss getting genuinely moving emotional beats is a big part of that. I think we can maybe pretty confidently say that reflecting the random realities of death is not essential to every story.

If OFMD wants to be evaluated as a hard-hitting drama or a queer story about the struggle of piracy against the Evil Empire, I will compare it to Black Sails instead of The Office. I just don't think David Jenkins is going to enjoy that comparison.

I'm not going to lower my standards because [insert rep reason the show must absolutely be a wild success here].

#our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd critical #ok now back to my angry breakdown of three act structure because i don't think some people know that act 2 doesn't just downswing randomly #like it has a purpose #fandom culture #ofmd harassment #character death #ask #anon #ladyluscinia

[shittinggold]

Black Sails at its core is a tragedy, in that we know how the story will end. This is the nature of its existence as a prequel - we know the fates of many characters, as well as the fate of Nassau and the wider world because Treasure Island exists. We know Billy must end up on that beach, we know Flint must be long gone, we know John Silver must become Long, and we know the revolution fails. The events of the story are dictated by its ending, which we are told before the story starts.

And at the same time, because it is a historical show that uses real world elements and real people, it is also constrained by the bind of history. We know the pirate rebellion does not succeed; we know that slaves do not overthrow the British Empire in 1718. This is what's so brilliant about the way the show's cast is constructed. By using a combination of historical and fictional priates, the show locks itself into being a tragedy on multiple levels. The story of Treasure Island and the story of history both contain it.

Yet even within that, the hope it inspires is so real and powerful that it makes us believe that it can end some other way. We hear Flint or Madi talk about a world after England, and it is such a beautiful thought that we believe it might actually happen, despite knowing that that it can't.

Which is what's so brilliant about the climax, with Flint and Silver in the woods. Flint is raging, rattling the bars of narrative and history both, adamant that the world he envisions can be real. While Silver, the storyteller, knows the truth - that there is only one way the story ends, and the revolution's failure is inevitable.

...Or is it? Certainly, it doesn't succeed, but was it inevitable? So many characters talk about inevitability, but one of my favourite scenes is between Jack and Max in 4x07, where Max claims that war against civilisation is inherently doomed nd history proves that, and Jack points out that it's that belief that caused her to side against the pirates and cause the war's doom. The thing is that they're both right. History is fact, and also written in part because of what people believe will be written.

So the story ends with so many questions, and invites us to write the rest. We thought Flint's fate, drinking himself to death in Savannah, was sealed by Treasure Island, but now we have been told a new story. He instead finds his lost love and lives happily ever afer. Except, no, that itself was a story, and he's actually buried in the forest by Silver. The story's ending depends on the teller, and we are pushed into the role of teller.

And because of how the show is structured - fiction and history interwoven - we must consider how this fuidity in truth applies to history. We assume we know the story of history because we are at its end. It seems so inevitable in retrospect. Yet it never was, and isn't now, as it is being written. Maybe we know that Jack Rackham is arrested and killed soon after the series ends, because that's what happened in real life, but maybe we're wrong. Maybe there's something else. A story is true, a story is untrue.

Everything is built to make the awful ending an absolute certainty, locked tight in the dual cages of fiction and fact. But there is enough ambiguity and hope within to make us justifiably believe that it can end another way. Silver and Flint are both right. The ending was both inevitable and a direct result of the choices people made. It was always going to end this way. It didn't have to end this way.

#gahhhh i love this show so much #it's so fuckign good i could talk forever #black sails

[schmerzafte]

Cloudy with a heavy chance of rain. (w/ WJSN Eunseo)

(As always, much appreciation goes to @a-casual-kpopfan for the help given to me by editing this post, it's been a while since I've posted a fic, and I hope my skills aren't that rusty. Love, schmerzhafte.)

Rain.

It always enamours you in this weird way.

It always reminds you of a…

Memory.

Is it sweet? bitter? or something else?

You do not grasp it well, but you feel it anyway.

Especially when you are accompanied by someone you adore, someone you care about, someone you love, and someone you cherish until the end. It always brightens your days when you spend time with her, seeing her smile and laugh whenever you crack a joke or two. It is a smile you will never forget, even if you have already seen it a thousand times. It still hits you deep. And hopefully, you will always experience this forever and ever.

“Hey, dummy! Don’t just blank out like that! I’m here you know.”

And with that, your thoughts that are starting to grow, embracing your memories, fade instantly. Because there is a smile that warms up your life when you look away from the window. It’s the smile that you won’t forget, after all.

“Jeez, I sometimes wonder why you do this often, you know? You always blank out randomly every time we hang out.”

Right. You know that she recognizes this behaviour very well. It always occurs whenever you spend your day alone or with her. The thoughts always linger around, emitting a bright light in what currently is a dark place. It is night, after all, which is always the time when both of you finish work, and decide to spend the rest of your days together, in this café. The café that you know well holds every beautiful moment that you and she create every time both of you come to this place after dealing with the mess that is life, especially when you work in such a busy office, and she also deals with the same thing as you are, albeit in a different environment.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, it’s just…remembering what happened to us, what we deal with together in life, and what we have to face every day, yet we get to meet here, in the exact same place, every day. It’s just…comforting.”

“After all these years, I’m still confused, and it’s slowly grinding my gears, you know.”

Oh…shit.

You know this expression very well, whenever the mood starts to shift, you can easily recognize it by staring at her face, which, while expressing an angry emotion, seems to make your smile wider, just by imagining how cute she is whenever she gets angry.

“You are a cute princess whenever you get angry, Juyeon. I’m starting to notice that as well.”

“Jeez, focus on the topic! I’m asking you why you do this!” she pouts in the most adorable way possible.

“Well, here’s why.”

And then you do the most sacrilegious thing you’ve ever done in your whole life, one that you never thought you could do to other people. But you need to do it anyway, just to prove a point, just to declare something, to her.

A boop to her nose.

“Hey!”

“That is why.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means I love you, dummy, it means that you are important to me, to my whole life.”

The expression suddenly changes, gone is the pouty face that you thought was the cutest thing in the world, and appearing to you, a surprised face that you rarely see, because she always expects the most unexpected thing from you.

But whenever you talk about this kind of stuff, she blushes very easily, like it’s second nature to her. Maybe it’s coming from her past, which you are very knowledgeable about, or because of how much you care for her, she didn’t expect it to come from you, due to how different you are acting towards your acquaintances, friends, or…someone you cherished forever.

“Don’t…just say that to me, after the fact that you BOOPED MY NOSE!”

That blush again, it’s hard to hold a smile and a laugh, seeing that beautiful expression.

“You’re so damn cute, I wish I could see this expression from you every day, every time.” You replied, whilst holding and stroking your hand to her right cheek, remembering how cute she is whenever she gets like this. And you just wish you could do this forever and ever.

“You know you can, right? We always meet at the end of our work, and whenever the weekend arrives.”

“Yeah, but I just wish I could do this to you every day, 24/7.”

“That’s just wishful thinking, you know? Oh, by the way…” she glances at the barista, which you also know well, because, of course, both of you come here after work hours, ordering the same type of drink, and spending the rest of your days together, eventually, someone from the café would recognize both of you well. “The same one!” she spoke to the barista, ordering her favourite drink, which is the hot cappuccino with brown sugar instead of white, which she always claims “It is healthier than white sugar you know. You should try it!” of course you ignored it, but you just love to see her complain about it every time you ordered a drink with white sugar. Those small things are what keep you alive, those memories that you hold forever. But, whenever she ordered a drink, you know damn well you must keep up with her, just to not leave her alone with her drinks.

“Oh, and for me, one espresso with a shot of rum.” You said to the barista. A rare combination, but you know damn well that you must work late tonight because your boss asked for an egregious amount of wishful thinking that gets approved by the department. With how close the deadline is approaching, you know that you must work harder this evening and stay up late, making letters and invitations to different companies.

“Damn, not just an espresso, but a rum as well? Guess your boss is acting up again, huh?” She scoffed at your order. “Yeah, he’s acting up again, asking for ridiculous favours, adding weird things to an already approaching deadline, which means we have to work double the time to requisite more budget and items to the other department.” You replied to her with a disgusted look.

“Well, such is life, sometimes you get a good workplace environment, sometimes you get a shitty one, just be glad that you have a nice workplace, but with the handicap that is your boss.” There’s a hint of truth in what she said. Yeah, you work every day from 9 to 3, but the workplace you live in is comfortable; a good internet connection, pantries with many ingredients to cook something when you have downtime, an actual good income, and many friendly colleagues that always support one another. It is a rare blessing for some people, because many of those people get a shitty workplace, and a shitty boss too. That is what you’re proud of, but of course, the downside is that your boss is a tough one.

“Yeah, you’re right, anyway, the drinks have arrived!”

The barista comes with both of your beverages, her hot cappuccino, and your espresso with a shot of rum. “Still together, are we? What a lovely couple both of you are, I hope the best for both of you, living the best life, and loving each other!” she happily exclaims. You saw your soulmate smile gently whilst laughing, with a hint of blush on her cheeks. That’s a good expression to see. “Thank you, miss. We wish you the same thing as well, we hope your café keeps running well!” she happily replied to the barista, and you as well said the same thing. The café actually runs really well, it was constructed and ran probably 3 to 4 years ago, which is a good accomplishment for a self-owned café. The owner and the staff have been great to both of you, and made a drink named after both of your favourite moments in life, “Cloudy Rain”, a grey-coloured cocktail with egg white that has been shaken in order to form a “cloud of foam” that floats on the top, representing a drink that symbolizes struggle, and a hardship that both of you need to tackle to move forward in life.

“Miss Juyeon, if you have the time, can you come here at around 9.30 a.m.? We need to deliver an order, but when we saw the place where we were supposed to deliver it, we noticed that it’s your workplace. So…if you wouldn’t mind?” the barista hesitantly asked your soulmate. It’s not often that the café gets a delivery order, because it’s supposed to be a “traditional vintage café, which only serves a dine-in customer”, but when there’s an order, it usually comes from your Juyeon’s workplace, because of how she promotes the place to her colleagues and acquaintances, which in turns, creates a huge profit for the café. A rare occurrence indeed.

“Oh sure, it’s probably Hyunjung or Sojung, since both like this place’s beverages. I’m sure it’s the same order as the previous one, correct?” she asked. Call it intuition, but she knows her colleagues well enough to the point where she remembers the exact drink her colleagues ordered every time, she asks them about ordering beverages from the café. “Yes! Wow, someone’s a great colleague, huh? You’re very lucky to have a soulmate like her who cares about her colleagues.” The barista happily exclaimed. It surely puts a smile on your face too, seeing her being this cheerful, especially with how busy both of your life has been, it’s a rare occurrence, but when it happens, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime moment, that you will surely remember for the rest of your life.

But you feel sleepy all of a sudden, it feels like a weight is put on both of your shoulders, and your eyes share the same sensation, forcing a situation that you damn well can’t pull out from, with how intense work and life is. It’s weird, because you’re supposed to be awake, with how you ordered such heavy caffeine, combined with a rum as well. It’s supposed to help you with your work tonight. Instead, it forces you to fall asleep, knowing well that you need to drive home with Juyeon back home, in order to work more, and maybe get a proper rest. But luckily, she notices it well enough.

“Hey, dummy! Don’t go to sleep yet, you must drive us home, remember? Hey! Wake up!” she shouts while nudging your shoulder.

But the rain, the heavy feeling, and the warm sensation of Juyeon’s smile put you to sleep quickly, and you can’t help but notice that the rain continues to ring in your ears, keeping your company. It’s been like this for hours, but surely the rain will end soon, right? You clearly checked the weather app this morning, and it predicted that the rain would come to an end at around this time.

But it doesn’t.

Instead, it’s the sleepy feeling that comes to an end quickly.

You wake up in the same place, facing a window, watching the rain outside, you don’t even realize how long you have been asleep, but there’s one thing you do realize.

A familiar voice peeks into your left ear, shouting.

“Hey, it’s 1 a.m., and we are about to clean up before closing the café.”

It’s the Café owner, nudging your shoulder, whilst on her right hand, holding a broom.

After that, do you realize, that you are still in the same place.

The only difference is that you’re alone.

The heavy sensation that you felt, now comes again, but it doesn’t put you to sleep. Instead, it heavily pushes your mind and your heart. The rain, forcing you to memorize a certain moment that you, and the other person you used to be here with, shared.

With your phone in your grip, you checked, and a notification from the Calendar app came.

“11th November: Cloudy Rain.”

As you pull away from the window and your phone, there you see, on the other side of your table.

Grey-coloured Cocktail, with heavy foam on top.

And a familiar portrait of a person.

In front of it, a bouquet of White Chrysanthemum and Gladioli.

Someone who you’ve cherished all the time.

Who you’ve shared those moments, those memories, those sensations.

Someone, with whom you shared the rain together, after hour, in this very place, with a hot cappuccino, and an espresso with a shot of rum in front of you.

Someone, who you loved, to death.

And indeed, as you stare at the portrait,

of Son Juyeon.

#fanfiction #wjsn #wjsn eunseo #reader x eunseo #wjsn fic #eunseo fic #son juyeon

[emblazons]

Thinking about how people who only (or primarily) understand Mike’s arc through a “hes queer and coming to accept it / struggling with heteronormativity/will get his happy ending when he gets with Will” lens are missing at least half of what defines his arc in the wider context / themes of the show.

Forewarning: long post (& also maybe an unpopular opinion)

Even as a queer person myself, I know that his arc isn’t solely about embracing his queerness (though it’s inherently interlinked). In Mike, you have a character who is being radically challenged by both external circumstances and his own decisions through a journey away from all kinds of forced conformity (social, familial, romantic & heteronormative) and into someone self actualized enough to live how they want…while also being strong enough to accept that they made mistakes along the way. Someone who is learning to be brave enough to say “this is who I am, what I enjoy, and what/who I love…and while it took me a lot of time to figure it out, now I can exist in the world embracing that even though it will take consistently resisting the tendency to accommodate people who think it’s unacceptable.”

Like. Even from a time before puberty (see: S3) Mike wants a life that stands apart from what’s expected of him in every area, not just in choosing a romantic relationship with another guy. He wants to continue to be a nerd and “child at heart” even though something else is repeatedly demanded of him by everyone from his parents to El in his romantic relationship. He wants to be a writer and someone who takes those nerdy interests into his adult life (cue aggressive gesturing toward the duffers themselves) and grates against all that’s been constructed for him even when he’s not (yet) brave enough to challenge it directly. Mike liking boys/loving Will is just “the final nail in the coffin” of his social and societal nonconformity—not the first (or the last) aspect of what makes him different from Hawkins or the life he was made to believe would suit him best.

Even the fact that Mike has a desire to be “normal” comes from an insecurity and fear that choosing what he truly wants will lead to him being outcasted and losing the people he cares for entirely—which is partially motivated by his queerness yes, but that also has a basis in his general interests and personality…which becomes especially obvious when you realize we are repeatedly shown that he is punished/has his wishes ignored in all areas he doesn’t conform, even long before we get into a plot where it’s clearer he likes boys.

We see it in how his parents have already started to demand he put boundaries on the time he spends playing his “childhood games” the very first scene of season one, how they demand social acceptable emotions from him when Will is missing, and how Karen & Ted want him to give up toys in S2 when he’s showing signs of depression (because they think the issue is him growing up, not that he’s struggling with loss or guilt for what happened to El).

We see it in how his own father comments about taking his CA trip away from him after calling Hellfire being a group for “dropouts” in S4 (implying that he is failing on an academic and social level that matters to wheelers—and that Nancy is good at).

We even see it in the way everyone from his bullies to his own girlfriend threaten and take things away from him when he doesn’t conform to social expectations...from Troy telling him to jump off the cliff to save Dustin in S1 (as punishment for the one time Mike stands up for himself in the gymnasium) to El jumping straight into breaking up with him and spying on him when he doesn’t do exactly what she wants him to in Season 3.

All of these moments are critical to understanding Mike as a person because they show us that, even without addressing his queerness, Mike’s desire to conform to socialized expectations involves but is not solely about him moving out of heteronormativity—it’s about him moving against everything that WASP, patriarchal, heteronormative and capitalistic and performative “wholesome American” values…and how he is learning to move past the fear of what will happen if he steps outside the lines in general, even though he already knows he hates those standards.

Mike’s “coming of age” arc is about finding the strength to choose the “path less traveled” in all areas of his life—even when it means (potentially) losing the support of the people he cares about. It’s about starting from a place of privilege and becoming okay with being outcasted from it in a way your insecurities never let you be before (which is inherently different than Will, who has always been shown to have some kind of support not just for his queerness but his artistic endeavors as well). Mike’s lack of support is why he starts from a place of deep insecurity, yes—but it’s also why him learning power of choosing to be himself, even if it means “losing” people when he’s honest about who (& what) he is will be universally powerful.

You don’t need to be queer to understand the power of what it means to know you will be okay even if people leave you. You don’t need to be queer to understand the power of stepping outside social expectations or your family’s way of raising you. You don’t even need to be queer to understand the weight of breaking up with someone you were only with to satisfy what you thought you should do, rather than be with who you want to.

The power of being strong enough to overcome your insecurities in order to “step out of line” and live and love as you want to is universal, and a stunningly brave choice no matter what or why you chose to do so. The fact that Will will be there waiting to love him in that honesty with himself is beautiful, yes—but it’s not the only lesson to be learned for Mike’s character.

Mike starting out with everything the world (or, at least America) tells would make you happy, realizing he is not happy with those things and rejecting them knowing it might have consequences is what makes his arc powerful, because he is learning (exactly like his sister Nancy) to be brave enough to accept those consequences (which for him are getting dumped, and feeling like he’s being left behind by some of his friends) to follow his own heart.

Even though The Duffers aren’t writing this into a tragic ending (aka: he’s not going to die or be left alone, because the duffers writing is inherently designed ro champion the outcast), these are the things that have (and will) make him relatable even to an audience that doesn’t know queerness. Erasing the fact that his lesson is the bravery it takes to follow your heart solely to talk about him liking guys (even Will) is to undermine his humanity, and the lessons to be learned from him by even the most general an audience.

TL:DR - the heteronormative aspect of Mike’s character is not the sole or even inherent issue within Mike, though heteronormativity is inherently built into his struggle.

There are deep dives on how his arc is also about a war against toxic patriarchy, toxic masculinity, emphasis on capitalistic and academic accomplishments over artistic ones, and even conformist relationships (whether they’re queer or not) that should be explored for his character—and I for one like him too much not to move out of just “this boy is queer because xyz” and into “let’s talk about Mike in terms of the wider scope of his cultural context and upbringing.” 🤷🏽‍♀️😂

#imma go watch the Oscars now but #i know people mean NO HARM in focusing on the heteronormative part of his arc because on tumblr esp that is inherently relatable but #it’s not the only thing that makes his character interesting! #and it’s not the only thing he’s struggling with in his ‘coming of age!’ #understanding white masculinity in America on a wider scale is SUPER helpful to understanding Mike #and in that sense Reddit is actually pretty good at catching his drift—THEY JUST DONT REALIZE THE DUFFERS ARE U N D E R M I N I N G it #erasing Mike’s queerness is to do him a disservice. I absolutely believe this. #but to deny every other part of him that isn’t just expected to be straight is to oversimplify him aggressively #you need BOTH to understand him #which is why you need both El and Will to make sense of his struggle lmao #(I still 100% believe he’s gay not bi) #(but him dating a girl was necessary to make sense of understanding that aspect of socialized expectations). #ANYWAY. Sorry for the rant lmao #mike wheeler core #mike wheeler #my st commentary #byler #< target audience #stranger things

[che-bur-ashka]

who holds the mask? designing the Disguise

For the record, all of the playbooks in Beneath Pirate Flags are trans. Gay ass trans ass pirates. I mean, they don’t have to be — the magic of character creation means that you could make anyone, even (!!) a cis person, if your imagination can handle that. But they’re all more or less about being trans, or about types of trans people I know, anyway. Maybe none of them is as trans as the Disguise, though.

I don’t mean that, of course. The Disguise isn’t “more trans” than any of the others in any way that matters. What I mean is that the Disguise is maybe the most “obviously” trans, the most “typically” trans. The Disguise deals with a narrative that people see and go oh, oh, I know this—that one’s about being trans.

The Disguise is a pirate “on the run from at least two things,” inspired by tales of putting on a (you guessed it) disguise and escaping to adventure. There’s a lot of Jim from Our Flag Means Death in there, of course, as well as a good amount of Eowyn and not a small percentage of Alanna of Trebond. The Disguise is playing in a lot of tropes that make people conscious of the play of genders—which, for complicated reasons, reads as “more” trans than, say, The Hunk, The Dandy, or The Legend (even though all three of those are, to me, far more fundamentally drawn from my own trans experience).

One of the big things I wanted to do with the Disguise though, was offer more nuanced understanding of the work masks and disguises can do than we usually get in these types of stories. In the most traditional—the most recognizable—version of this narrative the Disguise is a cis woman who, frustrated not so much with her gender as with institutional sexism, takes on a mask in order to “play” as a man and trespass in the wider world (the historical erasure of transmasculine people into the cis feminist figure of “the woman in pants” looms large here). In this narrative, there comes a point where—as in Mulan, Eowyn, Alanna—she is unmasked but accepted as, to borrow a term from Tamora Pierce  “a woman who rides.” 

Here’s the thing: That’s a valid arrangement of what’s in the Disguise. There’s no reason the Disguise couldn’t be used to tell this kind of story—but I think there’s a more interesting version of this character out there, probably most clearly expressed (in popular media, anyway) by Jim Jimenez in Our Flag Means Death who, critically, does not return to their assigned gender after removing the “mask.” After all, there’s no reason to think that the mask must be something taken on (as opposed to, say, assigned). Rather, I like to think about the Disguise as playing across a border—dealing in multiple frames and knowledges, and trying to make space for themself between them. One day—if all goes well—they won't need the mask anymore. The playbook could equally viably tell the story of:

A cis woman under patriarchy, “playing a man” so she can run away and be a sailor (like Eowyn does).

A trans person, “playing” their assigned gender as they work to find out who they are really (like... most if not all trans people do, at one point or another).

A trans person, “playing” their true gender (or at least a new gender) as they build a new understanding of themself in a new context (this is the reading I think is closest to what happens with Jim, fwiw).

A person whose disguise has nothing to do with their gender at all—maybe they’re a prince in hiding, or they're pretending to be a prince in hiding, or there's something else.

There’s also no reason that the playbook couldn’t combine these stories—or even reach for new ones that haven’t occurred to me. The possibilities are endless. The core of the Disguise is not about secrets and falsehoods (although secrets and falsehoods certainly play their part), but rather performance and autonomy over your own presentation. The mask is a tool to control that presentation.

This brings us to the saddest part of the playbook—the ending.

Every playbook in Beneath Pirate Flags has three prewritten endings (although you’re naturally welcome to come up with your own). Each set of three has two happy endings and one sad one— sometimes bittersweet, sometimes tragic, and sometimes just bad. For the Disguise, that sorrow is all about the loss of control. The worst thing that could possibly happen—the most upsetting ending, which I want players to be aware of even if they aren’t interested in it—is not just the removal of the mask, but the removal of the mask without the Disguise’s permission or control. The world longs to control our presentations and, by doing so, control our lives. There is magic in a mask, and in the autonomy it provides—but there are people who want to rip both of those away. They want to hurt you, to control you, and to make you hurt yourself. That’s what we’re fighting against. Anyway, there you have it. Go hug a trans person—and check out Beneath Pirate Flags.

#beneath pirate flags #our flag means death #ofmd #jim jimenez #eowyn #alanna of trebond #trans #indie rpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpg design #gay pirates

[salmalin]

Final Fantasy XII, Ashe, Vayne, "Us V.S. Them" Mentality, and What Makes a Hero

Something I really love about FF12 is that beyond the whole "free will" plotline that underscores basically every FF game, it actually has something else to say. And it gets pretty specific with it in a way that not many other media I've seen is willing to properly explore: the extremely thin line between hero and villain.

Possibly due to the disaster that was its development, Final Fantasy 12 was able to get extremely specific with its themes and messages, and the rush that occurred when a second team came in to finish for an entirely different team may have allowed for most of this to make it to the final game. It's also ridiculously topical and hits a modern problem on the nose—"Us Vs Them" Mentality, and the oversimplification that follows. This is something that I've only ever seen Terry Pratchett attack so violently.

The villains are not villains. They are people, like us. But more than this, they are only villains because of how they do things. But more than that...

The heroes are not heroes. They are people, like us. But more than this, they are only heroes because of how they do things.

In the eyes of a wider plotline, Vayne might have been the hero if not for his methods. This is made clear from the get-go. He's freeing man from the control of the Occuria, after all. He's fighting God—something you always do in the Final Fantasy games. What's worse, he was raised in a situation where his ruthlessness was not just an asset, but a necessity. He'd disposed of his elder brothers, and endeavored to build a world where Gods and Emperors did not dictate the movement of man—only him. It is, in my humble opinion, a response to excessive trauma from a young age. He is a brilliant character, beloved and loathed for his ability, and he is not arrogant about it.

Meanwhile Ashe is the last remaining descendant of Raithwall and seeks her country's freedom. Her characterization could have ended there and the audience would have been satisfied. Except it didn't.

She was angry. Arrogant. Uptight. She made rude assumptions about the people around her. And then...

Then Ashe decided to use the Nethicite.

And after her declaration, the first person to speak is the lowliest in standing of all in the room—a boy who'd seemed unimportant from the very start, who she'd degraded practically on sight. He'd been the most impacted by the war out of all of them; a boy who has had little to say up until this point besides seemingly shallow statements about theft, independence, and revenge.

"You even know how to use it?"

Vaan's words cut through the moment, changing the vibe instantly before Fran can take the scene. It's a good point, and highlighted a critical flaw in Ashe's thinking until that moment.

She doesn't. In a literal and figurative sense, this is the core of the entire story of Final Fantasy XII—Ashe does not know how to wield Nethicite. Not just as a weapon, but as a weapon.

There is rebellion. There is freedom-fighting. Then...

Then there's mass murder of civilians.

One of these things is not like the other.

But Ashe doesn't even see civilians. She's angry at Archadia as a whole for some reason—likely because they were "complicit" during the war. She sees them as all the same, and doesn't even think of them before suggesting using the uncontrollable Nethicite. She's convinced that her people will never get along with Archadians to the point where it's a plot point. She thinks they all want revenge. And seeing what we have until that point in the story... Yeah, that makes sense.

Until it doesn't. Until Vaan—the "unimportant" character mentioned before, the one who spoke, the main character everyone seems to overlook—actively does what she needs to do before it's even spoken aloud.

He trusts an Archadian.

He makes friends.

He puts aside his rage in favor of cooperation.

And he does this so casually that it's in the background when it happens. Until Basch brings it to her attention, Ashe didn't even notice. She was so fixed in her idea of what her people would want that it never occurred to her that yeah, maybe they do want this... in a moment of rage. A moment that would pass.

A moment that would pass in favor of guilt, horror, and disgust if she used the Nethicite.

We get to see Ashe's bloodthirsty nature before any of her other traits, but for Vayne we are shown he is charismatic, intelligent, and thoughtful.

It is Ashe who is the hero.

It is Ashe who is the hero because she does not fight with blinders on. Instead, she loses those blinders in no small part due to Basch, who points things out to her, and Vaan, who literally shows her the way. Vaan loses his rage first. Vaan moves on first. There's dialog around this a few times, and plot movements as well, and it's made pretty clear that every emotional development Ashe is going through, Vaan is going through directly in front of her and without the support that she had for so long. Vaan and Ashe are so acutely similar that it's almost alarming.

Vaan hates Archadians and then he changes his mind. Vaan hates Archadia until he changes his mind. Vaan hates soldiers until he changes his mind.

Vaan hates until he realizes that hate is a symptom, and to cure the symptom you can't just repeat the circumstances that led to the problem in the first place.

The main characters—the "heroes"—very nearly become the villains of a whole other country until they decide... no. No, we're not going to do this. No, we're not going to use this. Instead, we're just going to get rid of it. We're going to get rid of the chance of anyone using this great power again. This power would end the war in a split second before it could even begin. We've got so much of it, we could rule the world.

And then they don't rule the world. They destroy the ability to rule the world, and take that power out of the puppetmasters' hands.

You don't kill the occuria.

Heck, the only person they really kill is Vayne.

There is no "us".

There is no "them".

There are just people—people like us. And we are just as capable of being those people. One wrong step, and we become the people we hate most in the world.

There is no "us" and "them". You have no way of telling if a person is a monster on the inside. There's no way to look at them and know, or talk to them and know, or work with them and know. Vayne is charming and kind and gentle when he wishes to be, yet we only see Ashe's "undesireable" qualities.

She is the hero.

Ashe is the hero because where Vayne was prepared to burn everything and everyone to the ground for the promise of a day that might not come, she was not. Vayne was a battering ram where they needed a scalpel, and her team—six people with questions and some luck—was that scalpel.

Being a hero is not about being nice. It's not about being able to make connections or read a room. It's not even about how kind you are to others with your words. It's about what power we have, and how we are willing to use it. That is what makes a hero.

#ffxii #I'm gonna stop here because if I start talking about Drace I'll be here all day. #ff12 #final fantasy 12 #final fantasy xii #text #mine