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worldofkuro · 12 hours

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile XVII

<- Previous Chapter I

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: What can I say on this chapter. A little bit of racism and killing envy. But I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, I don't think this is my best ... I don't really know how to feel about this chapter.

“ Of all the spirits, Alastor, all the spirits, why did you choose this one to work with?” asked Marie as he took her son's ear between her fingers. You couldn't help but snicker behind your hand at the scene. It was something Marie used to do when Alastor was younger, when he would upset you she would pinched lightly his ears while sermoning him.

“ Well, you have never talked to me about it.. So I did it my way.” Alastor said with an amused smile, bending so his mother could keep her grip on his ear.

“ Oh mon dieu…I didn’t teach you because I didn’t think you needed to know about it.” she sighed before sitting down on the sofa. She looked at you with a worried expression. “ Are you okay, sweetie? Working with spirit can be very tiring even more if they don’t accept you.”

“ Well… I’m not working with them yet.” you smiled nervously, explaining to Marie everything that happened so far. She grimaced when you told how John forced you to awake from your trance while you were talking with Papa Legba.

“ I see. This is… surprising, I won’t lie, I didn’t expect it.”

“ I thought I was going crazy.” you chuckled as Alastor sat next to you, taking your hand in his. “ Even if I'm still… not sure about everything, I want to give it a try.”

Marie looked at her son, her face serious.

“ You can’t see him , Alastor?”

“ I could sense him when she was talking to herself in the mirror, moments ago, or when she was sitting with him on the bench. But if not for her eyes, I would have just thought she was sleepwalking.”

Marie was looking at you both, it seemed like she was thinking about what you just told her. You bit your lips, you didn’t know if it was a good idea to ask but you needed to know.

“ Marie, are… are you still working with spirits?” you asked. You saw her eyes twitch, even if she could easily hide her emotions, you were used to Alastor’s facial expression. Marie was easier to read than you remember…

“ Why are you asking?”

“ He told me you used to work with a spirit called: Gran Bwa. And… We saw him when we went into the forest. He told me he was disguised as deer…”

You looked at Marie as she sighed, she seemed so tired.

“ Yes, I’m still working with some spirits. Grand Bwa is the protector of wildlife, and doesn't like to be seen. Because Alastor’s father would force him to follow him into the woods, I was so scared something would happen to him.. So I asked for his help… For you to be safe in those woods.”

You felt Alastor’s grip on your hand tightened. His smile was still present as he was looking intensely at his mother, but you could feel he was agitated.

“ Mother, I am still not as experienced as you, but I’m safe in those woods now. Our biggest threat is gone. Don’t tire yourself.” he smiled at her before standing up. “ Matter of fact, let me bring me something to eat.”

You let Alastor’s hand go after he kissed you on the forehead before going into the kitchen. You stood up and walked toward Marie, before kneeling in front of her, taking her shaking hands in yours.

“ Marie, If I have decided to work with spirits, it’s because I want to protect Alastor. You’ve been doing it perfectly for years, please, as your future daughter in law, let me help you.” you stared at her, trying to convey all of your sincerity. You meant every word. Now that her husband has been slayed, nothing would come to disturbed the peace in this house. Alastor and yourself would make sure of that.

“ Ahh.. You have such pretty eyes, sweetie. Since the first time I saw you, your eyes have always been so pure, vivid and bright. I’m happy they didn’t change, I’m happy that, no matter what has happened, you are still as bright as when you first entered this house.” she leaned toward you, kissing you on the forehead. “ Take care of Alastor…”

You stayed at Marie’s house all morning. She was teaching you how to maintain your connection with spirits so next time you would meet Papa Legba, you wouldn’t be asleep. You would be able to be in the living world, talking with the people and using what the spirits would be giving you.

Marie has told you, you couldn’t use the spirit’s power if you were feeling emotions too strongly. You needed to be rooted into the present, you needed to be concentrating on the link that bound you with the spirits you were calling for. You would have to try meditation, unlike Alastor who always was in control, you were the kind to let your emotion go freely as they pleased.

“ Let’s try it, okay sweetie? First, you need to close your eyes, maybe I’ll be easier.” you nodded,looking one last time at Alastor who was watching you with curiosity and an encouraging smile. You closed your eyes. She made you stand up, keeping your hands in hers. “ Alright, do you feel the warmth of my hands? Perfect. Now, I want you to imagine vines that come from the ground. Slowly, they wrap around your ankles, moving toward your waist, then they cling to your vertebral column until you feel them in your head.”

You breathed slowly, focusing on your feet. You tried to imagine the vines wrapping themselves around you but you were just met with silence. You tried to remember what you felt when Papa Legba came to meet you. You felt… warm. You tried again, this time imagining a warm thread coming from the ground, moving around your ankle. You felt your body relax as Marie kept your hands in hers.

You could feel your body getting warmer and warmer. You wondered if you were doing good.

You are doing great, little lady.

You kept your eyes closed as Papa Legba’s voice surrounded you. You felt like he was all around you even inside you, like you ate something too hot and you could still feel it in your body.

Seems like you are a natural. Congratulations are in order.

You tried to nod but you felt like your body was made of stone, you couldn’t move a muscle. It was kind of claustrophobic.

No worries. It’s normal, I’m possessing you.

You felt your heartbeat increase slowly but you needed to be calm, or the connection would break and you didn’t want to end up like last time, when John forced you out of your trance.

Now, what kind of spirits do you need ?

Wait..? Was he asking what kind of power you wanted?

Exactly, let’s see if you can handle it… You wanted power to protect, wasn’t it.

You felt your mouth open, without your accord, and you spoke in a language you have never heard before. What were you saying?

This is where I go. Remember, you can’t keep the spirit forever, it needs to come back to his realm, I’ll keep the passage open for it. And for your energy, I wouldn’t recommend you to use it for too long. See you next time, little lady, and thank Marie for the rooster.

You felt the warmth leaving your body. You waited a few seconds before opening your eyes slowly. You were met with Alastor’s face, who was stroking your cheeks with a fond expression.

“ You are beautiful.”

You tilted your head against his hand, sighing in relief. You made it back. You looked around, noticing that Marie wasn’t there anymore.

“ What happened ?”

“ Well, you stayed like this for 10 minutes.” he looked at his watch with an excited grin. “ I thought you were asleep but you said something and then you came back with beautiful red eyes.”

You went toward a mirror and stared at your reflection. Alastor was right, your eyes were red just like earlier this morning. You turned around, trying to see what might look different.

“ I… He said I’ll have a spirit power but I don’t feel anything right now.” you looked back at Alastor who was looking at you with a big grin. “ What?”

“ I can’t admire you now?” he came toward you with a teasing expression. You smiled when you saw him lean toward you. You smirked, you wanted to keep him away from you, to tease. You held your hand in front of him sticking your tongue at him but before you could do anything, Alastor’s hand hit an invisible surface in front of you. “ What..?”

You put your hand on the invisible surface which was keeping you from Alastor. Wait.. You could feel warmth in your eyes. You closed your eyes, trying to make it go away, it wasn’t really comfortable.

You felt Alastor’s hand on your shoulder as you rubbed your eyes, trying to erase the feeling behind your eyes.

“ Oh, is she okay Alastor?”

“ Yes and I think you should come and see what she just did.”

You felt Alastor backing away as you opened your eyes once again, feeling the warmth once more. You looked at Marie as she had a dead rooster in her hand. She was looking at your eyes.

“ Rouge… C’est sa couleur après tout..”

You looked at your hand. What was that..? Did you… Did you make a shield? You held your hand once again feeling your eyes burning, you could almost feel tears. Alastor took a pillow from the sofa and threw it at you, the pillow hitting the invisible force that was surrounding you. You looked at the pillows then Alastor who was grinning so hard you felt like his face was going to break because of how big his smile was.

“I’m… I’m really impressed. How are you feeling?” asked Marie, her eyes wide open.

“ My eyes are killing me.” you chuckled nervously. You wondered if you could conjure your shield around Alastor, that would be more useful than around yourself. Did that mean you’ll have to be around him to make it work or ,like Marie used to, you could ask a spirit to do it for you?

You closed your eyes once more. You didn’t know if the spirit could hear you but you think it was enough magic for today. You didn’t want to be exhausted.

“ Thank you, you can go back now.”

You waited a few seconds before you felt cold. You opened your eyes, looking at Marie and Alastor. You looked at your reflection in the mirror and sighed in relief when you saw your eyes, the same color as usual. You turned around but were met with a pillow in the face. Alastor has just thrown another pillow at you.

“ I’m not sorry Darling, I just wanted to see if you were unshielded.” he smirked as you took the pillow from the ground.

“ You knew that! My eyes aren’t red anymore!”

“ I just wanted to make sure. And that’s your punishment, how could you create a barrier between the two of us?” he walked toward you with a smile that made you believe he wasn’t completely joking.

“ Alastor! And you call yourself a gentleman?” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, making a surprised face. He leaned toward your ear and whispered.

“ You know I can be worse.” he bit your ears making you flush and turn your eyes toward Marie but the woman was already busy with something else. “ But you’ll keep being at my side, right?”

You kissed his cheek before leaning toward his ears.

“ Death wouldn’t be able to tear us apart, Alastor.” you whispered, feeling a shiver of delight when you heard him gasp at your words. You stepped back with a teasing smirk as he stared at you with a wide smile.

“ Your eyes are red.”

“ What?” you turned your back to him to look at yourself in the mirror but your eyes were their usual color. “ You liar–!” you squealed when you felt Alastor’s teeth sinking into your neck, making you grip his hair. You felt him suck on your skin, making you moan lightly. You blushed when you saw your reflection staring back at you, you tried to turn your head but Alastor held your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at yourself.

“ Look at us.”

“ Alastor..” you whispered. “ your mother isn’t far..”

“ Look at us.” he said once more, his deep slick voice making you feel warm. You look at your reflection as Alastor kept kissing, biting, sucking on your skin. You were staring at him, the way he was staring back at you as he held your body possessively against him was making you lightheaded. “ Don’t ever… think about putting that shield of yours against us, do you hear me?”

You tried to contain the giddy sensation you were feeling. You tilted your head back as you felt his hand taking hold on your neck, not squeezing it, just putting his hand on your neck.

“ What if I do it again..?” you whispered. You shivered when you heard him chuckling darkly.

“ You’ll see it for yourself.”

You were so going to use this shield once more.

—

“ And you didn’t want to tell because..?”

You looked at Alice, who was laying on her bed under multiple blankets. After your morning training with Marie you decided to see Alice. After all, last time you saw her, you told her you were a murderer, so was your husband, you were ready to kill again and furthermore you had a weird episode making you say that someone was digging Alastor’s father from his grave, you needed to explain yourself.

“ Alice, did you really think I was going to come to you and say: Oh guess what, I killed a disgusting pig today. What would you have said?”

“ Want to kill another one?” she giggled, making you sigh with a smile.

“ Alice…”

“ Sorry. I.. I would have been surprised, I won’t lie. I’m still am. But, you did it because he hurted Alastor right? I feel like you killed him because you wanted to protect someone not for your own enjoyment which I would not say the same for Alastor. I knew he was twisted, I’ve told you !” she sat up, holding a pillow against her chest. “ I should have made a fucking bet.”

“ You aren’t.. scared of him?”

“ There will be a cold day in hell before this man makes me feel any kind of emotion but anger and disgust.”

You laughed as you shook your head. Both of them were so full of themselves they couldn’t see how similar they could be. You sat on a chair, next to her bed. Because of what happened, Alice said to her father that she was feeling very sick and that she couldn't get out.

It was Alastor’s plan, Alice needed to stay at home while he would stalk your new prey. Alice wasn’t happy with that, she was scared the man would show the picture of her and Alyzée kissing but Alastor reassured her. That type of man is the kind to think he already won. He was feeling superior by trapping Alice like this, so he would be patient without being aware you were making a plan to eviscerate him.

“I know Alastor doesn’t want me to know your plan but… Do you think I could come before you kill him?” you almost broke your neck as you heard Alice’s question. “ Don’t look at me like that! I just want him to know you are coming from me.”

“ Don’t worry, I’ll send him your regards.” you mocked her with a fond smile. “ Now, Alastor and I will be going to your cottage to make the perfect plan, no one will be there, right?”

“ No one is ever there! That’s why I want you to buy it.” she sighed deeply, falling into her bed once more like the dramatic person she was. “ But yes, don’t worry, nobody will hear your.. plan to kill my pig.”

You smiled behind your hand, you were excited to go back to the cottage, it was yours and Alastor’s sacred place in a way.

You stood up but froze when you felt a shiver going down your spine, your vision getting blurry. You sat back down, closing your eyes. Did you stand up too quickly? Maybe you needed to eat a lot of sugar, to Alastor’s disgust.

You heard footsteps and once again a shovel going into the grounds. Were you having another vision? You tried to see something, but you could only hear. You could hear a dog barking and a man telling him to shut it.

Fuck, was someone once again trying to dig up Alastor’s father?

You opened your eyes in shock. Alice was looking at you, her hand not too far from your shoulder.

“ Are you okay, doll?”

“ I’m doing just fine.. I… I need to go but we will see each other Monday, I promise.” you hugged her quickly and ran out of the room. You waved at the butler and ran out in the busy streets.

Damn it, damn, damn it !

Alastor was working right now, you didn’t have the time to tell him, you would go alone this time and immediately. You ran as fast as you could toward Marie’s place, which took you about 25 minutes. You were breathing hard, running in heels wasn’t your best idea but who cared right now. You entered the woods, looking for footprints which you easily found. You followed them even if you knew where you were supposed to go.

As you approached you could hear a dog barking. You stopped walking, hiding behind a tree. Should you invoke a spirit, in case you needed to fight..? It was too risky, you didn’t know if you could maintain the link with the spirit if you were to fight. You would have to go the hard way.

You took a deep breath and walked toward the man who had his back turned to you, digging into the hole where Alastor’s father was hidden. The dog stopped barking as he saw you and wagged his tail happily. You remembered him, you know whose dog it was.

“ John.”

The man froze before turning his head toward you. It was John. He stared at you before going out of the hole.

“ What are you doing here?”

“ I could ask you the same question. Why would a lady like yourself be deep in the forest, all alone?”

“ Maybe because you are on my husband's property.” you spat at him. “ Should I call a policeman to take you back home?”

“He is not your husband yet.” He showed you his badge. “ I’m working with your father on the disappearance of Alastor’s father. You should thank me.” he smirked before looking at you, you could see fondness in his eyes which disgusted you.

“ Then, why are you wasting your time here?” you needed to calm down. No need to stress. John wouldn’t find anything here.

“ Well, I think Alastor has something to do with his father’s disappearance.”

“ You’re so obsessed with us it makes you look stupid.”

“ Come on, Alastor is not a man to be wed to! You know that, sweetheart, and I’ll prove it to you! He must have put a spell on you or something ! Black people and their magic voodoo shit!” he spat, tugging at his hair. You stepped back, since when John was like that. He sighed before going back into the hole. “ But if you are so sure of Alastor’s innocence, why don’t you come and help me?”

You approached him as he took his shovel and started digging. How would you kill him while making it look like an accident? You would have to take care of the dog too… You stared at John’s back. How should you kill him? How? How? How?

“ Well, what do we have here?” he put the shovel next to your feet as he kneeled, taking something from the ground.

You could take the shovel and hit him until he wouldn’t be moving anymore. He already dug his own grave, it just needed his body. You crouched slowly, moving your hand toward the shovel, keeping your eyes on John.

“ The fuck? Is that a fucking deer ?”

What?

…

You frowned before looking in the hole and gasped. Underneath John was a dead deer. You put your hand on your nose, the smell being too much for you. You took a few steps back as the dog started barking at the dead animal.

What was going on? You couldn’t smell anything but the deer’s corpse right now. Where was Alastor’s father’s corpse ? Did Alastor come back here to move it ? No, he wouldn’t have the time.

You watched as John went out of the hole, seeming agitated. You tried to hide your smile, relieved.

“ So, John, did you find what you were looking for ?” you asked, tilting your head. He looked at you, frowning. “ Because, as I’m aware, you need a warrant to be on someone’s property, which you don’t seem to have.” your smile grew wider as you saw John’s expression turned sour. You had him. “ So, I’ll ask you gently to get out of my husband’s property.”

“ He isn’t your husband yet!” he shouted.

“ He will !” you screamed back. “ I will accept him in front of our friends, in front of God.” you smirked as you saw his face flushed from anger. “ And there is nothing you can do about it.”

“ He won’t have you. He won–”

“ He already had me.”

You stared at his face. He seemed paler than seconds ago. He was looking at you, his eyes wide open.

“ What… What do you mean?”

“ He already had me. Right here actually.” you showed the place where John was standing, making him stumble back. “ I accepted him in the deepest part of me.”

“ Stop…”

“ All I had to do was lay there as he tasted me…”

“ Stop..!”

“ As he made me his.”

“ Stop !” he shouted tugging at his hair, his eyes looking at anywhere but you. “ Look at what he has done to you ! He turned you into some kind of harlot…! But it’s okay, I would still take you as my wife.” he smiled at you as he held his hand toward your direction. “You’ll live a life by my side as a proper lady.”

You approached him, looking at his smile grew wider. You slapped his hands away before hissing at his face.

“ Listen to me one last time. Alastor shall be my husband, no one is going to change that fact. I will be his wife, tending to all his needs. If he wants me as a slut, I’ll be the best whore New Orleans has never seen, but it will be for his eyes only. Only for him. I will be his wife, I’ll bring his child into this world with pure joy and pride.” you stared at him coldly as he looked at you, seeming afraid. “ This body of mine was his before you even knew your so-called feelings for me.” you frowned as you saw him looking at your body with envy and jealousy.

Oh.

Of course, he was jealous of Alastor. You almost rolled your eyes at him.

“ This body is marked as his. Inside and out.” you stared at him, hoping he would finally get the message.

“ Inside..?” he stared at you, blushing.

“ I told you, didn't I? He took me just here, and I’m known to be greedy right? I wanted all of him, so I accepted his seeds inside of me.” you gasped as he took you by the shoulders. His face was so close, you could see in his eyes how excited your last sentence made him feel. What was he…?

“ Don’t bear his failed children, why would you stay with him when you could have a perfect life with me?”

“ A perfect life with you?” you roared a laugh, tilting your head back. How pathetic this man was ready to be ? “ I already have everything I need, do not worry.” you put your hand around his throat, you could feel yourself buzzing with energy. “ But I dare you to try and take my happiness away, I’ll make your life a never ending hell.” you were smiling at him, with a big grin even though your eyes weren’t blinking anymore, just staring at him.

“ You almost look like him..” he said, whispering. “ But I’ll show you, he is nothing more but a monster. And no matter how hard you are fighting right now, when you see I was right, I’ll accept you. “

You could strangle him right now. Your hands were around his throat, you could just kill him. You could push his body with the deer, nobody would find out.

You took a step back, staring at his eyes.

“ I shall never be yours, not as long as I breathe. Now, leave before I lose what’s left of my sanity.” You stared at him as he took his shovel and his dog before leaving, after giving you one last look.

As Alice said, if you were to kill, it was to protect someone or something. If killing John meant protecting Alastor and your relation with him, then you’ll have to dig another hole for him to fall into.

When you arrived at your place, you hugged your father who seemed so tired, it made you feel guilty.

You stayed there for a long time, thinking about John, the dead deer and Alastor. First, you needed to go back home to prepare your things for this weekend in the cottage. You would explain everything to Alastor once you are safely hidden from the rest of the world. You went back home, not running this time. You were walking, taking your time, thinking about a plan.

“ How is my princess doing ?”

“ I’m doing great… Dad, why is John on Alastor’s father’s case?”

“ Well, you weren’t supposed to know but John made it into the police. He succeeded and got his diploma. He has always been an intelligent fella… But it seems like you aren’t friends anymore, am I wrong?”

“ Let’s just say that the farest he is from me, the better.” you sighed before looking at your father. “ So, he has three months to find something or I can get married?” you watched your father nod. “ He should be careful, we never know, an accident can come so easily…” you whispered before going into the bathroom. You undressed and filled the tub with hot water. You slid into it, sighing with bliss.

You played with the water, thinking about John. He was an obstacle… After taking care of Alice’s problems, you’ll have to take care of another.

You didn’t notice your image in the water, showing your reflection with a big smile and deep crimson eyes.

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shakingparadigm · 2 days

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what is the theory that ivan manipulated the event where till and mizi met the wagyein?

It's not a theory, actually! It's confirmed that Ivan orchestrated the whole event. The true reason as to why however is still unknown. The information provides more context to this scene, though:

During the earlier times of ALNST the most rational explanation for this scene was that Till ran after a flower crown (presumably Mizi's) and Ivan followed him in out of curiosity. Now we know that Ivan was conveniently just standing there because he was waiting.

Side note, I find it heartbreaking (and maybe a little funny, sorry) that Till most likely didn't notice Ivan in this scene. That's just like him, isn't it. Always too busy running after Mizi while Ivan trails behind, an ever-present shadow.

I'm not sure how Ivan manipulated the circumstances for both of them to end up there, but it is confirmed that everything was intentional. What strikes me most is how they describe this particular scene:

I can't copy down what they said word-for-word (Patreon info), but they described Ivan watching "creepily" as Till and Mizi are faced with danger. We know that Ivan was familiar with the Cerberus wagyein beforehand, enough to touch its teeth and even to rest himself inside its maw. To Ivan, the wagyein is not dangerous, but to Till and Mizi, it could be. Ivan prepared the wagyein, led them there, and watched "creepily" from afar as Till fell on his knees, seemingly injured.

The closest I can get to making sense of Ivan's "scheme" is that he wanted to see how other children would react in a dangerous situation. Ivan's always been an observer, after all, and he's learned to survive by copying the more "normal" behaviors of his peers. This situation occured when Ivan was still young and had not yet developed his more charming mask, so perhaps he staged this encounter to study a situational response, to learn and mimic the emotion of fear. And what better subjects for the experiment than two of the most expressive and reactive humans of their batch? It helps that he was already fixated on Till beforehand, too. I think Ivan became irreversibly obssessed after this incident, especially since it's framed as a turning point in Ivan's life, comparing Till to the stars.

This is just my attempt at an interpretation, though. It could very well be for another reason. He most likely chose Till and Mizi specifically for personal reasons, not just for reaction. I'm still not sure on the purpose behind the whole thing.

The team wanted to capture Ivan's "dark emotions" through the shot of his stalking, which could relate to his more sinister intentions. His gaze can be read in a few different ways, though. Curiosity, interest, fear, etc. Maybe that's why they decided to redraw the shot in ROUND 6.

I think this better sells the feeling they were trying to convey.

#ivan u fucked up little guy.#also okay i just wanna clear this up #i know i make a lot of posts about ivans darker side and his more problematic traits #but this isn't me trying to villainize him or reduce him down to “toxic yaoi”#I HOPE YOU GUYS KNOW ALL MY TOXIC YAOI POSTS ARE LIGHTHEARTED.#i just want to clarify that ivan was always intended to be a darker and complicated character. even since his debut in round 3 #the way i refer to ivan (“twisted” “creepy” “obssessive” etc) are literally the direct words used by q and v themselves to describe him #but despite that id like to emphasize that i don't see ivan as a villain or a completely bad person. hes complicated #there is no normalcy in this world they are living in. none of the characters know what being truly normal is #this isn't me condoning his actions #but it has to be acknowledged that alnst is fucked up in nature. we can't expect perfect relationships from people who are born to die #plus ivan has a lot more layers past the “dark” parts. he's constantly battling himself and his desires #especially at the end of round 6 where he performs a myriad of conflicting actions (kiss strangle peck smile)#thanks to the r6 production notes we now know that ivan was going through a rapid internal conflict #“sure and unsure at the same time”#there is sooo much to ivan. his low self-esteem. his desire and possessiveness despite knowing till will never love him #his VEHEMENT insistence that till will never love him vs his desperate persistence in trying anyway #uh i need to shut up i think #anyways sorry. just wanted to clarify my thoughts on him in case people think im. yk.#in short. hes a fucked up little freak and he fascinates me. this poor tragic child. i love him.#SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY #alnst #alien stage #alien stage ivan #alnst ivan #asks

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cipheramnesia · 3 days

Text

Experiencing a conflict process about information and communication. The material of information is important, and how the information is communicated is secondary. Questioning information on the basis of semantic hair splitting is often a sign of a bad faith attempt to discredit information.

However, the choices made about how to communicate information are vital to ensuring that information is understood. However great a truth, it can be undermined by bad communication. The aspect of information which should be least relevant to its importance or veracity is by human nature essential, even demanding argument to seek the best formula for the communication process.

This feels overwhelming and discordant tonight, thinking of how often I have watched just the smallest or unimportant word choice shift the tone of information against the fundamentals of communication. Every day I want to stick my beak where it don't belong and just make the little corrections here and there to steer information towards better communication but I don't because those aren't my words and it's not my playground.

Sometimes I've gotten close to understanding this kind of dissociative separation for more distant cultures. Slowly getting better at understanding how to modulate my written tone and word choices to allow information to flow better from me to people in China or Korea or India or Vietnam. It's a strange process to try and express in my language information which will carry accurately through cultural and linguistic translation. I cannot explain it, because it's emotional, rhythmic, intuitive and while there are definitely specific cultural norms, another role of communication is to convey "this is who I am and where I am from," as part of the delicate dance around respectfully conveying information.

I can always pick out the little details that go wrong for me and for other people, I just can't explain what works. I talk to a lot of people from a lot of places and I am tragically monolingual, and the consequence of this is that how I communicate is shaped by finding a way through translation of English into dozens of languages, Icelandic, regional languages in Nigeria or Ethiopia, Turkish, different languages in India. Cursed English is everywhere nearly, and for me it's a sort of code to solve with words, find the words that unlock the right meaning to someone who needs information and I'm what we both have to work with.

So it goes, the information can't move anywhere if the language doesn't make it desirable to understand. What a shitshow.

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atombombkaytee · 3 days

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My Echo, My Shadow and Me

Summary: Hancock and I retire to The Third Rail after a long day to find that it’s particularly busy. Still, we manage to find a quiet spot to indulge in heavy flirting, booze and chems. However, I notice a shadowy figure across the room - somehow, neither Hancock or I recognise the stranger (another ghoul). Hancock is keen to introduce himself but the sheer amount of intoxicants we’ve consumed could have the potential to lead to a very interesting evening.

Pairings: Hancock x Female OC/Reader, Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Female OC/Reader

Warnings: (This first part is largely PG but we will see - in future parts - all of the following) Heavy alcohol/drug use, public groping, smut, MMF threesome, anal.

Part 1.

Occasionally, The Third Rail became so lively that you could easily delude yourself into believing that the bombs had never plummeted from the skies all those years ago. It is only when you're completely sober that you can discern that virtually every person in the vicinity disfigured by the enduring effects of radiation.

Nevertheless, the bustling crowds of sweaty bodies (dancing, laughing, and clinking their glasses without a care in the world) were surely reminiscent of what it was like pre-war. I couldn’t be sure. I was born into this shithole of a world. What would I know about living pre-bombs?

I grunt a sarcastic chuckle into my pint glass, fogging the edges with my breath. I'm sure it was warmer in pre-war bars than it is here. Being underground in an old railway tunnel helps retain some heat, but there's a subtle yet constant breeze coming from somewhere.

Still, the alcohol helps. As do the masses of bodies. Alcohol helps with a lot of things. Even now, many still use it as a respite from the horrors of daily life. A beautiful dissociative escape, where the only thing that matters is the moment.

Unfortunately, I'm the only sober one tonight. Well, almost. I’ve managed to get one mixer deep, tucked in tight against the bar, waiting for Hancock to join me for a celebration. Today ended much later than we anticipated when a large group of Supermutants seeking revolution entered Boston Common. We dealt with them, of course, but it significantly cut into our relaxation time - something both Hancock and I equally hated.

The dancing crowd swells behind me, swaying in time to Magnolia’s silky voice. Occasionally, someone brushes against my back. I'm desperate to feel more drunk. I tend to get irritable far more quickly when I'm sober, much like Hancock... maybe that's one of the reasons we've always gotten along. Feeling overstimulated, I swill back the ends of my glass and signal Charlie for another.

Lucky for me, no human could possibly serve booze as fast as that robot. It’s mere seconds before another full pint glass is in my hand and I greedily neck it back. I smile to myself, sensing the warmth in my belly spread into a pleasant haziness behind my eyes. These quadruple shots are certainly doing the trick.

An immense wave of gratitude washes over me as I perceive a hand between my shoulder blades. It unmistakably belongs to someone familiar, amidst the numerous inebriated strangers who have been using me as a prop for the last thirty minutes.

“Hey, dollface… how you holding up?”

He angles his head downwards, drawing himself nearer to me, enabling me to still take in his words amongst the competing sounds of music. In response, I offer a smile, albeit tinged with irony, and he promptly detects the subtle distress reflected in my eyes.

“Oh… well, why the hell are you sitting up here then?”

With a light-hearted chuckle, he shifts his focus from me to locate Charlie. His hand instinctively wraps around the nape of my neck and delivers a playful squeeze, firm enough to hurt, yet, ultimately, conveying a sense of comfort and protection.

“Charlie - do this ol’ ghoul a favor and hand me that great, big bottle of whiskey - oh - and two glasses, if you’d be so kind?”

I can't help but watch him adoringly as he swoops in to solve all of my problems, like always. I've only spent a little over four months working alongside him, but I'm pretty sure that I'm falling for him. He's courageous yet gentle, sweet yet just, violent yet empathetic. I've come to realize that he's a very intricate person... well, ghoul. And, boy, does he know how to make me feel good.

Ignoring our rather large age gap - human/ghoul relationships aren’t uncommon in the wasteland, although they are generally disapproved of in most settlements. Except here. Here, in Goodneighbor, things are different. Here, Hancock and I can openly celebrate our relationship and relax in public without any judgment. As the Mayor, Hancock receives special privileges that he graciously extends to me. Moreover, the majority of the residents in Goodneighbor are ghouls themselves, and those who are human are generally open-minded outcasts who have found a welcoming home here. It's an ideal situation.

“Follow me…” He murmurs intimately next to my ear. With his palm placed reassuringly on the small of my back, he guides me smoothly through the mass of people - most of whom acknowledge their mayor with a rowdy toast of their glasses.

Once we’re out of the thickest part of the crowd, he grabs hold of my hand and leads me to a dimly lit table for two at the very back of the room. Both the noise level and the number of people are much more bearable here. I plonk myself down on the torn couch - enjoying the coolness of the leather seat against the back of my tired thighs.

“Jesus… thanks for rescuing me, yet again…” I snigger, holding my glass in place while Hancock pours a generous serving of whiskey. The liquid fills the vessel with a rich, golden hue.

“Why the hell is it so busy in here tonight!?”

Hancock puts the whiskey bottle back on the metal table between us with a thud, causing several small white flecks of paint to flutter to the ground. He leans back comfortably against the sofa, draping his spare arm around my shoulder while he surveys the room.

“You tell me, sunshine! Could be since we cleared up those raider gangs last week? Could just be a few more people traveling through.”

His black eyes glisten and gleam like polished onyx under the sporadic beams of the spotlights that intermittently flash across his face. The aura of pride he exudes is palpable, adding even more charm to his demeanor. Seeking refuge in his presence, I nuzzle closer to the comforting warmth emanating from his body, finding solace as I press my cheek against his faded scarlet duster coat. Meanwhile, I continue to take measured sips from my glass of whiskey, relishing its smooth taste.

The mist brought on by alcohol is steadily encroaching upon my senses. I have firm intentions of becoming extremely drunk, and with Hancock already pouring himself another drink, it seems obvious that he shares that inclination.

(Part 2)

(Part 3)

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yesimwriting · 2 hours

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a/n challengers changed me, so have this drabble <3

----

the soft sound of rubber soles making their way across the court startles you more than it should. it's bad enough that you're running so late you had to change in the library bathroom and that you're still putting on your tennis shoes. you don't need anything else making you seem un-together.

"you know..." patrick's closer than you thought he'd be, his racket dangling by his side, just barely scraping the ground you're sitting on. you let your fingers rest between your ankle and the back of your shoe as you look up at him. "you took so long we started to think you were standing us up."

the sentence feels lighthearted, but that doesn't keep unease from prodding at you. your friendship with patrick and art is still new enough that the wrongness of being late feels sharper.

"oh, no," you shake your head slightly in an attempt to emphasize your point. you straighten an arm to rest it on your bent knee. "no, i--the lunch with my sponsors ran long, and i had to change and--" patrick lets you ramble as he bends a knee, slowly moving to sit across from you. he sets down his racket with all the patience in the world, watching you with a lightness behind his eyes that radiates good humor. "and you were joking."

he leans back on one arm before lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "a little, but that sponsorship thing..." patrick angles his head to one side in what feels like mock contemplation. "that sounds important, we should consider ourselves lucky that we made it onto your schedule."

his tone leaves your face feeling a little warmer. you let your attention fall back to your shoe. "no, not like that at all."

"well, i feel lucky," he says, "art, do you feel lucky?"

you turn your neck to look back at art. he's closer than you remember, the toe of his shoe so close to your leg that you'd only have to stretch a little to reach him. he lets out soft sigh before sitting next to patrick. "extremely."

the word borders on flat, a pinch of something you can't quite interpret bleeding into the syllables. his attention shifts away from you and towards patrick. maybe you weren't meant to fully understand. after all, they're life long best friends. and while normally encroaching on that kind of dynamic makes you feel like an intruder, with them, everything's always been comfortable.

"don't." you refocus on your shoes, pulling the laces taut between your fingers. "i'm the lucky one, you guys are great."

"and you're amazing." art breathes out the compliment in a way that feels concrete. real. the words don't feel like a necessary step in a polite exchange, they feel genuine. it's the kind of unabashed praise that's hard not to fluster at. "seriously--your backhand, i've never seen anything like it."

you let yourself smile, ignoring the warmth crawling up your chest. "thanks."

before you can dwell on the exchange, patrick leans forward. his fingers carefully bend around your ankle. patrick watches you expectantly as he extends a leg. you release your laces, letting him lift your foot onto his lower thigh.

"patrick."

"what?" patrick's gaze briefly flickers towards art as he crosses your shoe laces. "i'm helping out our girl." he tugs on your laces, neatly looping them. "ignore him, he's jealous."

you squint at him curiously, feeling like you're missing out on some kind of joke. "really? you think he wants to tie my other shoe?"

"i think," patrick secures a snug knot into place, "he wants to do whatever you want him to."

patrick settles a hand over your ankle. you let out a sound that's more a puff of air than a true laugh. "shut up." you lift your foot in a pretend kick. patrick makes a show of releasing your leg, holding up his hand as if to convey innocence. you pull your leg back. "don't make him sound so lame."

"yeah," art echoes, leaning towards patrick, "don't make me sound so lame."

patrick grins as he shoves art's shoulder. he pushes himself to stand with no warning. "c'mon, let's play."

you reach over for your other shoe before bending your leg. it takes no time for you to pull on but before you can adjust the laces, art's by your side. he pulls on your laces until your shoe feels secure. "too tight?"

with the way he's studying you, it takes you a moment too long to react. you shake your head once. "n-no, that's good."

he angles his head downwards, attention returning to your laces. "good."

art smiles as he squeezes your upper calf in an almost startling display of affection. he pushes himself to stand before offering you his hand.

——

lmk if you liked this, i have so many thoughts about them

#challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #mike faist x reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #josh oconnor x reader #challengers fic #x reader #art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

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nipuni · 5 hours

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Hey, Nipuni! First off, I want to say that i love your work sooosoooo much and i can’t even truly describe the impact it’s had on me. You’re an inspiration to me!! No matter what your interest is in i will always be a fan. I was really curious and wanted to ask, i think you’ve talked about it a looong time ago but, how long do you reckon it takes your to do your fully painted illustrations these days?? and how long do you wait before posting it, assuming you aren’t sure if you’re satisfied with it. I’ve just been struggling with overworking my art and feeling like it’s not ever ready to post so i was curious. 😟

Hello!! I'm so late to reply I'm so sorry!! Thank you so much for the kind words!! to hear that my work can have such a positive impact on someone is the greatest compliment truly 😭❤️ and thank you for sticking through all my interest hopping too haha

These days it takes me anywhere from 2 to 9 hours most of the time, non consecutive if I can help it, and I usually sleep on them at least one night before I share them. But I've held on for over a month to some just because I didn't think they looked quite right, so I keep coming back to them every now and then and do some small tweaking until I reluctantly post them either out of frustration or exhaustion haha I don't have the patience or the attention span to work on the same thing for very long to be honest, so I've adapted 😆

The truth I like to remind myself of is that once I share something all my focus shifts to my next idea every time so whether I could have done better or not doesn't matter once it is out of my hands. I can always do better on the next one, there is just the comfort of letting go and a fresh start.

I've struggled with overworking pieces to death a lot too. It stems from anxiety really so it's a matter of building confidence, the point at which art is ready to be shared is arbitrary after all. You can convey a message or idea just as effectively through the roughest of sketches to the most detailed oil painting, the rest of the work is mostly towards aesthetic value.

On the technical side of things, when you grow frustrated with a piece to the point where you start to resent it is a good indicator that you need a different course of action. Sometimes bringing in new references can help you find the issue, sometimes the problem is structural and buried under piles of unnecessary detail and you have to go back and redo or remove something you were reluctant to, and sometimes the best thing you can do is to let go and come back to it with fresh eyes when you have learned more. As for studies, working from big to small, training for speed and on a time limit has helped me. Anyway I think I've started rambling, I hope any of this helps!! Remember that art at any stage is better than no art at all!!

#nips replies #will I ever learn to be concise when asked a question #it has taken me years to hone the craft of caring more about my time than my perceived performance!! a most valuable and elusive skill #I'm dead serious

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canisalbus · 18 days

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oh I am. madly in love with Ad Astra?? I can -feel- the weight of another person, the texture of their clothing, the warmth of them, their breath against your ear, the intimacy of holding someone... I absolutely adore the detail of Vasco's hand tucked into Machete's clothes, like it's not even necessarily conscious, just a little intimate thing you do when holding someone you love so much GAH I cherish this piece so much ;;

#ouuhuh ;_;#thank you! that sounds lovely and I'm so happy to hear my art was able to convey that feeling #answered #bluestarwolf12 #I remember thinking a lot of these exact things when I was drawing the piece #I sound a little deranged when I try to explain it but it's really important to me that the illusion of weight comes across believably #that the subjects have volume and mass and influence each other when they touch?#what's the word #tangible? tactile?

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dissociyboi · 2 years

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you go to the ER for excruciating nerve pain. you say my whole body feels like it's on fire. they take one look at you and say well you're clearly not on fire. they write you a prescription for anxiety and send you home

#words cannot convey the rage I feel #this isn't a one-to-one scenario but everyone knows what I'm talking about #chronic illness #mental illness #spoonie #psychosomatic #chronic pain #disability #disabled #ableism #medical trauma #medical neglect

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hellooo-one-and-all · 8 months

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not particularly liking it when the subtitles on d20 get fancy with describing sounds makes me feel like such a buzzkill but also. subtitles should be accessible to the people who get the most use out of subtitles actually and some of these words and phrases are getting so fucking complicated

#dimension 20 #mentopolis #i say this as a hard of hearing person who's not great at paying attention and speaks english as a second language #(aka very much a person subtitles are primarily intended for):#the only time you should be using a word like 'ebullient' in subtitles is if someone says it #you do not need that word to describe laughter. ever. like that should be obvious?#it just makes what could have been 'joyful laughter' or whatever 10x harder to read and process quickly :/#i'm also not a huge fan of 'cast lauging at xyz'-style subtitles when all you'd need to convey the auditory information is 'cast laughing'#but i suspect that that's an issue which different people who know things about subtitling might have different opinions on #like i've noticed different styles of audio description where some are very strict about only describing what's visible on screen #and others use character names in the audio descriptions before they've actually been introduced by name #and again i prefer the former but i have to concede that clearly opinions and practices differ and it's not black and white #but not making the subtitles more complicated than they need to be to accurately convey the audio feels pretty straightforward to me

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monster-noises · 11 days

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I want! I want to be able to tell people i make art wnd write comics and have something to Point Too y'know?

Like sure i have art but it's not like... Art (not in a self-degrading way, just in a way that says a majority of what i've made is very casual and disparit, and lacks a cohesion of intent I see from many of the artists I admire)

And there's an embarrassment that comes with telling people 'oh yeah i'm an illustrator and I'm writing comics when i'm not at work' and then being able to show... Nothing of serious import.

(again not to degrade my work, I like what i draw otherwise i wouldn't habe drawn it. It's just most of it does not necessarily satisfy the set up of "I Illustrate and Write Comics")

#monster noises #now you may ask yourself;#Bartholomew.#what the friggity Fuck does 'cohesion of intent' mean #great question!#not sure i can answer it in words!#but the idea i think i'm trying to convey is... not consistancy of Style per-say #(I think i've got that okay)#but... having a gallery that looks Properly like a Body of Work #and not an assortment of odd sketches that are definitely all drawn by the same person but carry no memorable weight as a unit #i think that explanation makes about as much sense as the initial phrase #but sometimes translating a feel that exsists as a picture in your head into coherent speak is Hard

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byanyan · 19 days

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ㅤbeen thinking today about how byan's anger can be really scary to witness... it's very... raw. anger is the emotion they feel the most intensely, and the one they filter the least. it's raw, it's heated, and it's very instinct-driven — they have very little control over it, and they're certainly not thinking before they do or say anything. impulses are followed, whether it's to lash out and cause harm to whatever has hurt them, or to throw or break whatever is within arm's reach just to release even a little bit of the energy that's overwhelming them. they don't know what else to do with it. literally no thoughts, all that their mind can focus on is the emotion; they just want to get it out and stop feeling this way (and/or ensure the person who's pissed them off gets what they deserve) and they'll do whatever it takes to ensure that. i think that lack of control really shows too, like it's palpable in the air and adds an extra layer of discomfort and uncertainty if you're in the same room as them. concern for one's own safety is valid in such a scenario too tbh, because they have hurt people in the past who they never would have caused harm to normally (both directly and indirectly; sometimes by their own hand, other times as an unintended consequence of them throwing/breaking something). it's not something they're proud of, but they also just... don't know what to do about it. ...they're honestly afraid of their own anger, at times. afraid of what they're capable of and what they might one day do.

#there's also a lot of yelling and cursing...... screaming too but that's only in THE MOST extreme cases #and they've been known to hurt themself if there's nothing else around to take the anger out on.#or like. unintentionally hurting themself by punching walls & getting into fights and shit #this is an absolute mess it's just me spewing my thoughts to get them out of my head #one day i'll write a proper & cleaner headcanon about it... explain it better...#but i'm having a hard time putting my thoughts into actual coherent & detailed words tonight so just like. take this for now lmao #byan is such an emotional creature & they don't know how to regulate what they feel #they just feel it and must do something about it...#am i making sense?? is what i'm trying to convey coming through??#i'm so annoyed bc i can't find half the words i'm searching for to properly explain this the way i want to lmao #━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ headcanon ⋮ danger in the fabric of this thing i made.

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burstingsunrise · 9 months

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If you managed to process it, I would love to hear a story about your experience at Luke's Fonda show🥰 No pressure though, only if you want😊

funny timing for this, i wrote up a little summary post a while ago and have been kind of working up to posting it.

it's hard, because how do you adequately summarize something that means so much to you? it feels like nothing i say will be enough, but i do want to share some things about it, because i think that will help it feel real. thank u for asking and providing the encouragement. <3 emo bullet points ahead! i tried to focus mainly on show-related things but this experience wasn't just important to me because of the shows, so some of the other stuff sneaks in.

that’s the first thing. it didn’t feel real, and it still kind of doesn’t. because i was only there for a few days, and i spent every morning getting coffee with meg and every night seeing luke perform my favorite album. like…that’s not real. that can’t be real.

accidentally but unsurprisingly coordinating outfits with meg on night one. the scientology recruiter on the sidewalk recognizing us from the day before when we’d walked by.

stress buying armloads of merch from an incredibly patient and probably at least somewhat high guy who immediately forgot about me, but who i will probably forever remember fondly.

roy and the mustard having a chat in the balcony.

standing in the crowd waiting for the first show to start. all of the anticipation mixed with all these different emotions, and then finally luke appears on stage. sings the opening of a beautiful dream. the lights shine on him more brightly as it crescendos and we finally get a good look at him. i turn to meg and i say “he’s so sparkly.”

comedown on night one. hearing “let me see all the things that i was supposed to see” while i was there. seeing it.

being able to look over at meg meaningfully when certain things happened during the shows, including but not limited to luke’s gratuitous displays of ass. poetic, really.

leaving the venue night one, in a daze. one of the security guys saying “have a good night” on our way out the door. he had no idea. no fucking idea what we’d just been through. have a good night! now that your lives have been changed forever! sausages on the sidewalk.

collapsing in the hotel lobby, quietly reviewing photos and videos, actually being able to do it openly and to talk about it or not talk about it, and to finally start to have it sink in.

staying up way too late, and eventually falling asleep in my new luke shirt.

the woman with the intense boston accent who hopped on the elevator and immediately asked me if the hotel had a coffee shop with a level of desperation in her voice that spoke to me deeply.

finding sam and meghna in line for night two, and the strange euphoria of speaking openly about things I almost never can to people i just met, but also already knew. being annoying and posting the same palm trees. wishing it would have worked out for emie to be there too.

grabbing meg’s hand to pull her into the crowd on night two. the feeling of relief. somehow we did it. two nights, two shows, two opportunities for everything to go wrong, but actually everything (or at least the things that mattered most) went right.

every time luke gazed our direction, on night two, which felt like a lot, and how every time it was kind of unbearable in the best way. because it’s him and because he was singing songs that mean so much to me while it felt like he was staring into my soul, and because i could look over at meg and know she knew exactly what i was feeling.

the shows going by so fast. i tried so hard to be in the moment and appreciate every second, but it was such a strange, out of body experience. this was something i’d daydreamed about and pictured in my head, but i never thought it was a real possibility. and even in my daydreams, i couldn’t fathom being that close to luke and being there with meg while it happened. it felt surreal that these things were actually happening to me.

the way luke smiled during the breakdown in mum, but also looked like he was dying so beautifully during place in me. admiring his large mouth during slip away. (it really does some riveting things to hit those points of emphasis.)

all the times he ran his hands through his hair to push it back off his forehead. all the times it fell right back where it was. the way he started the shows with it styled, but by comedown it was already just a perfect mess.

his silver nails and his new necklaces and the way his eyes sparkled.

night two, when luke started singing the new bloodline verse. that moment of “what is this? i don’t know this?” it hits different when it’s a song you know so well it’s like it’s a part of you, and suddenly there’s something new to it. thinking about those new lyrics, where they came from, how long they’ve existed, when and why luke decided to add them in, but just for night two.

the talking breaks, ranging from “i’m fuckin’ terrified” early on night one to “can you see my nipples in this shirt” late on night two. octopuses hanging from the ceiling. he didn’t know if anyone would like the album. but he knows we like to scream. making the album was such a very him thing to do, and it’s friday, and he’s in love.

the confetti cannon going off during starting line on night two, being positioned so it rained confetti into my hair, into my purse, down my shirt. it was blue and white and silver because of course it was, because luke thinks about these things.

his smiles and waves and little bows at the end. the shuffle step off stage and the way i watched his back disappear into the darkness until i couldn’t see him at all.

spending both shows with my hands clasped over my heart. it wasn’t a conscious choice. it’s just where they landed.

being stuck in the crowd after the night two show ended, surrounded by groups of people taking pictures of each other’s mascara tears or lying facedown in the confetti. seeing myself in some of those photos a few days later on twitter. and not just those photos - photos from the stage too. the photo luke posted (and took down). and the photo where meg and i are looking up at him with lovestruck smiles.

walking down hollywood boulevard at night, almost silent. walking down the other side of hollywood boulevard the next night, dodging drunk people, talking about luke’s nipples.

making the most absurd pouty face and waving pathetically on the elevator as i left meg on the 9th floor for the last time, then trying not to sob stepping out onto the 16th.

the trip home. feeling physically awful from several days living on iced lattes, kind bars, and no sleep. emotionally drained, sad to be leaving luke and la and meg. sitting at the airport, wishing i could be with my friends at the beach instead.

getting home, unpacking, tucking away my confetti for safekeeping. so incredibly happy but also so devastated to know that it really is possible to have it all, but only for a few days. grateful i had the chance at all, and that it worked out as well as it did.

#sorry this is much more earnest than my usual tumblr vibes it's just really important to me #i feel like i ended on kind of a downer there but i don't mean for it to be #it was just such an incredible experience and i'm so happy i had it at all #it's just a little hard trying to return to Reality afterwards u know #when you know what's possible #but instead you have to go to work #and live across the world from the person who gets you #and not see luke standing in front of you every day #so it's probably a little heavy on the wistfulness #also it's really hard to put into words the actual luke of it all #the shows themselves #i can pick out details but actually conveying the hugeness of the experience is impossible #but i'm very grateful for this ask giving me the opportunity to try #i have all these videos on my phone that i keep watching like evidence #trying to convince my brain it was real and i was there #live at the fonda #lhafc #ask #anon #sidenote it's bizarre seeing twitter stans in the wild #with the livestreams and everything i can't really think of anything that's like #"new” in terms of what went on at the shows to share but ama i'm happy to expand on the mustard

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cinnamon-roll-whump · 10 months

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Really really love how sensory this community is

Like, I know non-whump stories do this too, but I notice it so much with whump stories and non-whump stories by whump writers. How sensory everything is-- the first word I thought of was "sensual", by the way, but that has rather the wrong connotation for what I mean.

Sight is easy to describe, people see things all the time and barely notice, and often sounds fade into the background. But when a writer describes the copper tang of blood in the whumpee's mouth, how they can feel their hair matted and plastered to their neck with sweat, five different words just to describe the sweetness of the cake Caretaker gives them, the first kindness in years, or the clean, sweet scent of the air when they're allowed outside, the grain of wood or cool, rough stone under their fingertips, the cool pressure of a blade on their skin, not quite breaking through...

It brings you so solidly, viscerally into the story, grounds you there, holds you attention and captures your heart.

It's wonderful.

#and it's made me pay more attention to the little things in the world around me #as i eat chocolate i think of the words to describe it: rich smooth and deep with sweet-salt caramel tang #what are the words to describe the feel of the chair i'm sitting on? the texture of my clothing or the feel of my cat's fur?#what scents do i smell? how do i describe them? how would i convey this to someone who's never experienced it?#words words words #sometimes i can't come up with the right ones #but it's interesting to try #and i think - i hope - it's making me a better writer #idk just something i was thinking about

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 7 months

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megumi 🤝🏽 yuuji

dying even if it’s only for a good minute only to be brought back to life bc fate realizes if they died for real then they would need to find someone else to fuck over. those two are like fates favorite barbie dolls.

apologies if this post is going to seem all over the place, just bear with me. i don’t even know if you’re going to see this BUT it’s okay bc i need to get this out my system 😭.

starting off — god, imagine the chaos that will ensue when megumi tells nobara & yuuji about his very tragic history with the zenins. but like he wouldn’t even tell them straight up, he’ll just make a little deadpan joke (my sarcastic, sassy son) & the others would look at him like : ??? wtf do you mean by that sea urchin head???

like imagine itafushikugi going shopping for like traditional japanese clothes for a little festival or some shit (megumi was dragged by his spikes to come along) & nobara is having the time of her life finding outfits for her & the boys. like it got to the point where she’s dressing them herself & she shows megumi an outfit that looked similar to the robe he was forced to wear bc of the zenin (it’s obviously not the same) & megumi just refuses to wear a robe with similar color patterns to the zenin robe.

megumi: that looks like the outfit the zenin forced me to wear. i wonder what happened to it, cause the last thing i know, i got blood all over it. so as the second member of the zenin hate club, im not wearing that….

megumi: wait that blue one looks decent. i’m going to try it on.

nobara:

yuuji:

nobara: …did he really leave without giving us the “ getting blood on a zenin’s robe” story?

imagine maki complaining about naoya in front of the first years, & maki just brings up naoya’s onesided beef with megumi & her stories of how naoya was so petty back in his childhood made him remember who tf naoya is (megs have selective memory, it’s okay)

megumi: ugh, he was so annoying. i remember when he came to my middle school back when gojo was busy dealing with the aftermath of his evil ex boyfriend evil plan & he basically kidnapped me. i was stuck in a car with that man for 40 minutes..you would hate him nobara.

maki: yeah you would hate him nobara.

yuuji: i’m sorry he kidnapped you??? why did you say that so casually?

nobara: fuck that. megumi is a disney princess, we know this already. BUT we’re just gonna gloss over gojo had an evil boyfriend?

& imagine when megumi finally tells his friends about the zenin clan was when yuuji just came back from the dead & they were asking how tf that’s possible. & somewhere in that conversation megumi just let it slip that his heart stopped beating once & itakugi looks at him in silence:

megumi: yeah the zenin clan basically forced me to exorcise some curses & complete a ritual to get a snake — that snake fucking bit me. it was my least favorite. but yeah i basically died. then yuuta brought me back. then i was blind for a good minute.

nobara, yuuji, & even sukuna:

megumi: it was a terrible time for me. gojo was even more clingier & protective. it got to a point where he started treating me like i was 6 again… reading me bedtime stories, singing me lullabies & describing the pictures in the stories since i was…yknow blind.

cue itakugi & even sukuna wanting to burn down the zenin but ofc they can’t do that…so they settle for pulling pranks on the members & traumatizing them ofc.

IM ALSO imagining how funny it would be for yuuji to be jealous of yuuta. like bro is basically living yuuji’s fantasy world. i’m giggling at the idea of yuuji fighting for his life to be either megumi favorite or nanami’s favorite.

you also opened my eye to the potential of maki & tsumiki… like i also like to imagine that in a happier world, they would understand each other on such a deep level. but they would also find parts of the other that they wished they had. but on a happier note i like to imagine that megumi would suffer whenever it was brought up that his aunt is basically dating his step sister. like maki would be a menace to megumi. every little thing he do? maki is texting tsumiki in a corner.

maki watching itafushi cook together in the kitchen: i can’t believe megumi has a boyfriend. it’s so cute that he thinks that he can hide this from me. lemme go snitch to tsumiki.

maki listening to megumi describe his fight with sukuna, a cursed spirit who apparently has a stripping problem: oh my god. megumi is truly yuuta’s boy. they both got cursed spirits obsessed with them…i need to tell tsumiki.

maki to megumi after witnessing his suicidal tendencies: don’t make me tell tsumiki.

i honestly love your story. the way you added so much more to megumi childhood is beautiful. it just make soooo much sense. but also your characterization of gojo is so precious to me. i’m waiting for gojo to go apeshit on the zenin. i’m also giggling in anticipation at gojo finding out about yuuta attachment to megumi. i like to imagine him to be kind of worried about it actually, bc that’s not fucking healthy. but i imagine him getting used to it since megumi will have a protector in the form of yuuta & his power of love.

i’m also curious to see mai’s role in this story since.

*sighs in disappointment at gege writing choices*

since she had a crush on megumi…yeah. but imma just interpret that as she wants to be his family. it keeps me sane

i also wanted to ask if there’s a chance that you would write a megumi POV of what happened in the zenin clan? ofc i would understand if you wouldn’t since it leaves a much more ominous feeling to the events. plus yuuta running commentary is a good mix of angst & humor so ofc i understand.

Yuuji: man fushiguro almost checks the boxes for a Disney princess. except he was never kidnapped or enslaved

Megumi, sold to the Zenin clan, who later kidnapped him: *sweating*

Nobara and Yuuji would be the co-vice presidents of the "fuck the Zenin clan" club if they knew what happened. They would be the presidents but yuuta and maki are already in a death match for the position and they're trying to avoid the bloodshed. they are not allowed to be treasurer because neither of them know how money works.

megumi is unaware that a formal club has been formed.

Megumi is suffering SO HARD in any world where maki and tsumiki are together. they won't stop ganging up on him when it comes to his love life and general wellbeing and holding hands where he has to see it. maki lectures him about his suicidal tendencies in the field, holds up one finger, calls tsumiki, and lets her pick up where she left off. maki tries to talk to him about relationships one (1) time and he tries to drown himself.

see i'm pretty open to writing a megumi POV but it, like most of my stories, falls in this nebulous category of "if i have the time." like, i've thought about writing megumi's pov before, there's a lot of stuff that happened that exists as like, background knowledge for me that will never make it through yuuta's pov because it doesn't make sense for yuuta to find out about it. It would be very tonally different, but if i did write it, it would be a different work entirely and i'd be making sea glass gardens into a series.

i'm eternally tempted by the siren call of making my works into a series. If i did it with sea glass gardens, i would want to add a one shot of Megumi's pov during the time leading up to sea glass gardens and a short multi-chapter of the gojo, nanami, shoko teen parenting trio. If I have the time, it will exist; if i don't, it won't.

#ironically the one thing that WOULD endear yuuta to yuuji is finding out about all of this #yuuji would instantly love him for all he did for Their Boy. it's the only way i see megumi actually fessing up to what happened #i think megumi's just someone who's really private and uncomfortable with people knowing a lot about him and he would try to hide this from #itakugi for as long as he could. it probably eats at him that the second years all saw him like this. i think he just hates feeling vulnera #megumi gives him the /extremely/ abridged version of events to get yuuji and nobara to chill about yuuta and how he acts (yuuji is convince #that there's no one who could be that perfect nobara keeps looking for homosexual explanations) and they instantly veer hard into finding #out everything there is to know about the zenin and how to hurt them and also yuuta's like. beloved in their eyes. megumi is their boy.#they love their boy. yuuta saved their boy. ergo they love yuuta now. it's simple math.#tonal shift is a huge sort of struggle with me as a writer just because i change my styles with every narrator #which is why it's kind of hard to flip between works if the tone is too different. i was trying to juggle sea glass gardens and toy rosarie #and i was just internally screaming b/c yuuta and jack could NOT be more different with narration styles and i was like 'fuckkkkkkkkk'#with yuuta i structure sentences with a lot of 'space' in them. i don't have a better word for it i'm not actually trained in writing so #it's all just whatever shit i made up along the way i have no officially terms. anyway. Yuuta's sentences are structured to have this sort #of detached distance between the actual message and the start of the sentence. So we end up with a lot of sentences that start w/ structure #like “yuuta thinks” and Yuuta feels“ b/c I think of yuuta as a very detached person because of how he lived. it's a survival mechanism.#a lot of the meat of what he feels has to come in almost absentmindedly. So you end up with Yuuta's suicide scene and losing the knife and #him having a line like “He swears he never meant any of the bad things he did” and the fact that he thinks his own survival is a bad thing #/he's/ to blame for is almost backdoor'd in as a given premise. it's assumed. it's not even the point of the sentence. he's been living wit #jack murdock meanwhile is an intensively retrospective character that's meant to make you almost feel claustrophobic from how “close” his #narration style is. a lot of the actual message is conveyed through imagined scenarios and emotional recollection. he's a character steeped #in regret who has been torturing himself with it for years. yuuta's survival mechanism is isolation but jacks been yearning to get back wha #he lost for so long and dreaming of it that he's steeped in really vivid internal imaginings.#with jack you have multipage lamentations remembering his son buying cereal with him but yuuta drops the fact that his parents stopped #loving him at some point and it's not even the most important thing in the sentence. it's included as a qualifier because yuuta has accepte #so much of the bad things that happened to him when he shouldn't have whereas jack hasn't accepted ANYTHING that happened.#Yuuta uses a lot of very clean cut grammatically correct narration and jacks is riddled with a bunch of “ain't's” and grammatical errors.#he has an accent for lack of a better term. so you end up w/ two characters who convey information in different ways prioritize different #info in their sentences use different sentence structures etc. so megumi would have a /very different/ style and tone from yuutas that woul #sort of shape any fic that came through him because all of my fics are primarily shaped through the narrator's voice. it's also why I set #kind of hard lines about whether a fic can have any narrator or just specific narrators b/c it determines the whole tone.

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