#although this one felt more like the former than the latter
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Dream’s Therapist
Emotions
I have prepared for today’s session with going over previous notes. I decided to carefully delve deeper into the topic of the client’s own perceived emotional detachment that is so visibly not the case (he feels very clearly, even if he occasionally pretends he doesn’t. We have made some progress in last week’s session that I would like to build on).
The client is on time again (well, slightly early). When he comes into my office, the coat stays on this time. I don’t engage in small talk, as it seems his perceived preference.
DT: How has the thinking and journaling gone since last week? How have you been feeling over all?
Dream (He sits straight as an arrow and doesn’t look at me): I don't feel. I exist. Emotions are for mortals.
DT (I admit to myself that I am a tad disappointed. For him. I thought we were making progress, but it seems we are back to square one): I see. Have you been journaling, as suggested?
Dream (I notice a sigh I can only interpret as dejected): Yes. I did peruse the infernal book. “Dear Diary, a star died. It was mildly annoying.”
DT (I cannot help but think there is more to this than meets the eye and proceed with caution): I guess annoyance is a feeling?
Dream (I notice his stare is even more vacant than usual): I don't feel. The star had unresolved issues.
DT (I notice he projects and is trying to deflect at the same time): We are not talking about the star’s issues though, are we? We are talking about whatever has been going on with you, either over the past week or in general.
Dream: Not today. (The way he purses his lips is reminiscent of someone who has sucked on a lemon, and I get the feeling today’s session will be… difficult. I decide to change tack and revisit the topic dreams and nightmares since he opened, and lightened, up about them the last time.)
DT: Is there anything else you would rather talk about? Your nightmares? Your dreams?
Dream: I don't dream. I weave tapestries of existential dread.
DT (It’s really going backwards now): And what do these tapestries tell you?
Dream (I notice he crosses one leg over the other and leans back in his chair. Not without also crossing his arms in front of his chest): That my thread count is impeccable.
DT (I notice extreme defensiveness and decide on a different course of action): Are you open to trying an exercise?
Dream (I notice the eye-roll): If I must.
DT: There are no “musts” in here. You either decide to give it a shot or you don’t.
Dream (And there is the exhale through his nose): Fine.
DT: Okay. I’d like you to get comfortable in your chair…
Dream (I notice he moves around on his sitbones a bit): Your chairs are not very conducive to comfort.
DT (The chairs are actually very comfortable. He just decided they’re not comfortable for him because he doesn’t want them to be): Get as comfortable as possible then. (I notice some further shuffling, and when he finally settles, his legs are not crossed anymore. His arms, however, stay firmly crossed in front of his chest). If it’s comfortable for you, close your eyes.
Dream: What if it is not?
DT: In that case, keep them open. (I notice he keeps on staring at me, so I decide to just proceed): I’d like you to bring up a kitten playing with a ball of yarn in your mind.
Dream (He actually snorts. I am briefly confused at the unexpected display of amusement. He blinks slowly.): Really?
DT (I mirror his blink): Really.
Dream (He unexpectedly closes his eyes. A brief silence ensues): I can see it. The kitten's existential crisis is palpable.
DT: What else do you sense or feel?
Dream (I notice he opens his eyes and just stares at me. Again…) I feel nothing. Perhaps the kitten should consider therapy, not I.
DT (I decide to call things by their name): What do you think makes you avoid being vulnerable? Around anyone, but specifically around me? (He looks at the paperweight on my desk. I ignore it. The silence lasts for three minutes.) You don’t have to be here if you prefer not to, but you are taking these sessions for a reason. Can you verbalise that reason for me again? (I notice he mumbles something indistinguishable while looking at his boots.) Pardon?
Dream (He looks out the window, clearly avoiding eye-contact, and raises his voice ever so slightly.) I feel uninspired.
DT (I withstand the temptation to point out that he just admitted he feels): And would you like any type of support with feeling more inspired again, or do you think you will be able to solve the issue yourself?
Dream (He looks at me again. Barely. With a dipped chin and through his lashes.): I might appreciate your… expertise.
DT: The delusional one?
Dream (I notice he smiles. A small smile, but it is the first one that is clearly identifiable as such): That, too.
DT: Okay, then let’s keep going and dig a bit deeper. Without deflection and changing the topic—do you think you can do that?
Dream (I notice the smile disappears): I might try.
DT (I nod towards the paperweight): Can you try to pick it up? (He picks it up hesitantly.) No, I said, “Can you try to pick it up.” (He puts it down again and looks confused.) Try again. (He lifts it once more and holds on to it this time.) So did you try, or did you pick it up?
Dream (I notice his eyebrows are knotted so tightly I start to feel sorry for him.): I picked it up?
DT: Right. There is doing or not doing. There is no “trying”. You do something, or you don’t. You trust me or you don’t. Both is fine. You do it, or you don’t. You stop to deflect to get out of discomfort, or you don’t. You pick up the paperweight, or you don’t. It’s always your choice, but it’s a choice you make.
Dream (I notice he stares at me, then the paperweight): I… chose to pick up the weight, and I shall hold on to it for a while.
DT: Good. Let's keep going then. Tell me about your relationships.
Dream (I notice his eyes darting at me quicker than the speed of light. I also notice the paperweight moves in his hands. The silence lasts for seven minutes. He holds on to the paperweight very tightly for a moment and then begins to speak): I had relationships of a romantic nature. To hold on to them has proven to be impossible.
DT: Any idea as to why?
Dream (I notice his voice is very quiet): Because my… feelings (he looks at me briefly before he turns his attention to the paperweight again) are complicated, and they tend to scatter like cosmic dust.
DT: I’ve noticed you like to speak in metaphor…
Dream: As do you.
DT: Do I?
Dream: Sometimes.
DT: And does speaking like that, or being spoken to that way, make things easier for you?
Dream: Yes and no.
DT: Explain the no.
Dream: Perhaps I… would appreciate a more direct approach. But it makes me uncomfortable nonetheless.
DT: Discomfort isn’t always a bad thing. If you stay comfortable all the time, nothing changes.
Dream (I notice a sound not unlike a wince): I do not change.
DT: I am aware I asked this before, but why are you here then?
Dream (I notice he turns the paperweight in his hands): Because I feel like the kitten.
DT (I need a hot second to remember): You feel you have an existential crisis?
Dream (He stays quiet for seven minutes again. I wonder if he is actually counting seconds in his head): I might have diversified into a certain sense of ennui. (I notice he smiles briefly, but it actually looks weary.)
DT: Any idea as to why that is? Or what might provide relief? (I notice he stares intently at the paperweight again) Why the paperweight?
Dream (He reflexively puts it back on my desk): It reminds me of things.
DT: Good memories or bad?
Dream: Perhaps both (I notice his eyes disengage, and he vacantly stares out the window again.)
DT: Is it something you wish to talk about?
Dream (He looks at me again): I trust our time is up?
DT: No. But if you feel the need to leave, that’s okay. I’d just like to encourage you to think about whether your ennui is as practised as your avoidance.
Dream (He gets up and looks down at me in a fairly disgruntled way): Perhaps you might reflect whether your persistence is annoying.
DT: Well, you’re not paying me to humour you, are you?
Dream (I notice he seems to think for a second, and inexplicably, his face lightens up. If that’s possible at all, because his expressions hover on the micro-spectrum): Perhaps you do humour me. (I wonder if he is actually smiling again or just looks mildly pissed off.)
DT: I suggest I might be the wrong person if you are looking for entertainment. But if you are committed enough to this, I will use ink in my diary again and see you next week. Same time.
Dream (I notice he definitely smiles this time): If the universe doesn't implode by then. (The smile vanishes as quickly as it has appeared, and I am left mildly concerned he might actually believe that’s a possibility.)
After he has left, I begin to write down further notes. Something catches my eye. It looks like sparkly dust suspended in mid-air. I have a lot of questions…
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#the sandman#sandman#dream of the endless#morpheus#Dream’s therapist#dream of the endless rp#Morpheus rp#satire#tragicomedy#although this one felt more like the former than the latter#the fingers type what they want to type what else can I say?
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Random thing to say but it's Pride month still so fuck it
This year came with the realization I'm also demigirl :Dc
#I've always felt close to my femininity but not as much as I wanted to tbh#if people were to associate purely female-assigned stuff like skirts or needing to have a child when I grow up I'd feel very uncomfortable#now I finally understand why that happens#I mostly have boy friends than girl friends because I can relate to the former aspect more than the latter#but there's still that point where both sides are not what I am fully.. like I can feel masculine or feminine but not to an extreme#never felt completely neutral either#in fact I don't connect with neutral pronouns.. it feels like it's not me when people refer to me with they/them#i also feel uncomfy being referred to as trans or as nb because I feel like I'm a girl most of the time but still to a certain extent#I started using he/him and they feel kinda nice although it needs time to get used to#so yeah.. demigirl fits more than bigender or genderfluid for me tbh#if anyone's a she/him demigirl please let me know because I feel like I'm the only one here HGDFHGDFS#wanda talks#pride#pride month#demigirl#demigirl pride#queer#lgbtq+#lgbt community
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Omg double request???????? slay???????
Whatabout,,,,,, yan albedo,, kidnapping reader n keeping her in a cage for stress relief,, like he'll occasionally feed her and give her water ofc, but a lot of the time he'll lace it with aphrodesiacs and let her suffer in the cage until she's begging to be fucked- boy makes absolutely sure she humiliates herself- like girl's fighting for her freedom? He'll just make her so desperate she has nowhere to turn to but to him.
-the amazing super awesome best anon ever/jjj
Sorry for taking sooo long with this, I lost motivation and when I got it back I decided to rewrite the whole thing 💀 and I'm finally back from the dead!
✧･ﾟ:* Yandere! Albedo x Fem! Reader
✧･ﾟ:* ¡Warnings!: NSFW, Yandere/Darker Themes, Kidnapping, Fingering, Making out, Aphrodisiacs, Teasing, slight sadist! Albedo, that's all I think!
✧･ﾟ:* Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!
Reblogs are greatly appreciated!
You hadn't even known him for that long or that closely, yet he felt a constant yearning whenever you weren't around. You were just another adventurer that completed commissions for the guild, so why did he like you so much? This want for you was hindering his research since he couldn't focus when you were on his mind 24/7. Weighing his options he figured it would be pointless trying to persuade you to stay with him forever since you enjoyed your freedom, it was really obvious. So what was plan B?
Why to keep you with him by force of course.
As adventurous as you were, you could also be a little to trusting and oblivious at times. Everything was calculated down to the smallest detail. Eventually he had formulated the perfect plan to make sure you were his. Due to Albedo's precision, it wasn't long before you were in his lab, unconscious.
Upon stripping you of your weapon and vision, Albedo realized that he missed one crucial thing. He didn't plan on what to do with you after kidnapping you. It's not like you were there for any reason other than to satisfy his desire for your company.
Eventually he settled on a cage he happened to have when he wanted to observe live monsters he captured for research. He cleaned and even cushioned it a bit before placing your limp body inside. Once he locked the gate he decided that all was good and he could focus again now that you were under his surveillance 24/7.
It had been months, maybe even years and although the likely answer to how much time had passed was the former, the latter was definitely what it felt like. Although it was unlikely you could have escaped, Albedo decided to cuff your arm to the bars just in case. The bindings were tight and made your wrists sore but there was nothing you could do about it.
It made you furious that all you could do was sit there like a doll on display, only taken out to be tampered with from time to time. But again, you were helpless.
You were snapped out of your sulking as the hinges of your cage creaked open and a plate of steaming food was placed into it. As quickly as it was unlocked, it was shut once more. You stared at the meal with a sour look, as good of a cook he was you didn't trust his food because of numerous.... occasions.
But you were so hungry and you could feel your mouth watering at the smell. So as always, you reluctantly gave into your needs.
Why did it end up like this? You already knew the answer. Aphrodisiacs. In your food. That's what lead you here, completely naked on his lap with your back against his chest, two fingers shoved in your mouth while three more are shoved up your pussy not moving an inch. You desperately try to grind your hips onto them for any sort of friction to help you reach your high but you just can't. You can't even begin when the pads of his gloved hand flatten your tongue against the bottom of your mouth. The most you can do is pathetically whimper in hopes he'll get the hint and he does but would rather see you suffer so you just have to sit there, waiting until he decides what to do to you.
"I assume you want me to move my fingers,hm?" A sharp thrust makes you gasp. "C'mon, tell me darling, what do you want from me." He chuckles cruelly when all that escapes you mouth is muffled whines and incoherent noises. "Ok ok, I'll let you talk." As soon as the fingers leave your mouth you speak,"Please, please let me cum! I-I'll be good, just—" You're cut off by another thrust of his fingers into your tight cunt but this time they continue plunging in and out making you moan in ecstasy as you feel your orgasm building up.
Albedo's free hand traveled down your neck and began fondling your exposed breasts making you arch your back at the added stimulation. In doing so you slightly shifted your positions and you couldn't help but cry out as you felt him hit that sweet spot inside of you. "N-ngh f-feels soooo good 'bedo! Please don't s-stop!" Hearing you say his name always made something stir inside of him, something that told him to go harder. "C-cumming!" With that you gushed all over his fingers, coating them with cum that dripped onto his lap, soaking his clothes but that was the least of his worries. You couldn't see the ways his eyes darkened form the position you were in but when he moved a hand to tilt your chin to face him you were met with that scary smirk that, even through your dazed state, had learned to fear because it always meant nothing good.
"Who gave gave you permission to cum? I don't recall saying you could orgasm, now look at the mess you've made." As if there wasn't already a mess," 'm sorry...I—" you were cut off as his lips met yours. His hand shifted form your chin to hold your face in a way that give him firmer grip. Drool ran down your chin as his tongue entered your mouth, licking everywhere it could reach.
When he finally broke the kiss, you were panting heavily. Albedo observed your face as you gazed at him through half lidded eyes. Dried tears stained your face as a bright red blush covered it, beads of sweat ran down your face and your eyes we're puffy and swollen. You were certainly a sight for sore eyes, Albedo made sure to make a mental image of it to paint later.
Lifting you up into the desk, be shoved everything on it aside as he laid you on your stomach. Now your lower half was hanging over the edge and you tensed as the cold surface met your hot skin. You gasped as something big and hard pressed up against your pussy's entrance. "You wanted to cum so bad so you did so without my approval, how disobedient of you... but don't worry, now I'll give you all the orgasms you want."
#i got kinda lazy at the end im sorry 😭😭😭#smut#x reader smut#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#yandere#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader smut#yandere albedo#yandere albedo x reader smut#✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#albedo smut#yandere genshin x reader smut
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next act
description: last thing on your mind was helping the actress calm down after the interview or emotional support for celebrities was not listed in the job description
warnings: anxiety, attempt at comfort by writer
words: 1.5k
*requested by anon <3
Breathe.
Come on, in and out just like they said.
"And how do you feel about that?"
The question flew by. Escaped Jenna's wariness snakelike. Her mind was still lingering on the former answer. The answer was not good, right? Audience gives it away. Hundreds of people give it away.
Her eyes did laps back and forth in the room. Dozens of faces were boldly laughing at something that was not intended to pass as a joke. No one cared about the interviewer in the first place. Each one of them came for her and only her. It made her painfully aware.
Each and every move, gesture, word and mistake was under the microscope. Filmed, posted an hour later, if not earlier. Maybe even now. Spotlights above we're targeting her perfectly by force while the crowd of complete strangers with a fixation on her were hiding beneath the unlit veil.
Positions didn't seem equally matched and it was apparent.
How was she not used to this already?
It took a mutter from the neighbouring seat for Jenna to discern how agonizingly quiet the hall was which clashed with her mind. Not so slumber, unlike this setting. The mass was anticipating and eyes were boring holes from the side.
Putting all of her trust in her shaky hands to raise a microphone while begging her mind to recall the question. Latter task failed terribly.
"Sorry, can you repeat the question? I was just—" scrambled Jenna before it was suppressed by another flood of laughter. Except for this time, she kept her focus on the missed question, not the sidelines.
"I was adding on to the question from before about that scene. How did you feel about it?"
"Thank you for being here with us. It was an honor to have you and with that said..."
Thank god. Exit doors were opening, spotlights were getting dimmer, curtains were pulling back and there was room to breathe. Jenna might have stood up too quickly but she could not bother. Not when she could feel her composure on the verge of collapse. The only silver lining was the lack of backstage meetings. That would be a challenge to endure.
The crew that pushed the curtains back for her quickly recited the scripted guide where she's off to next. Series of useless information was fired in her ear as if she wasn't capable of getting around herself. No praise was heard, no "good job" said, nothing.
"Yeah, yeah, i got it," Jenna uttered fiercly, feeling her voice giving up just like that. Her hand reflexively went to halt the tears from falling and ruining the looks considering she wasn't in the best mood to be scrutinized. On top of it all, her breathing caught pace and she felt trapped in this space.
"Also one more thing. When you're done with that, we have it arranged for you—"
"Are you okay?" A feathery touch on Jenna's shoulder startled and stopped her in tracks. She didn't have a chance to catch a sight of the person with the way man's presence was parallel with her each step. But the question that interrupted was worth it.
You read the room straight away and covertly signaled the man to leave. Emotional support of celebrities was not listed in the job description but you were assured you could do it better than anyone else here. Well-informed how demanding the profession must be, you figured the best call was to be yourself and go with the idea that first turned up in your mind.
Surely no one wanted nor deserved mediocre and half assed support. Especially her who is probably tired of insincere interactions in the line of work. And also the one who was observing you from the beginning. The stranger you were that saved the day but Jenna didn't know it yet.
Fixing your posture to look somewhat presentable although that was arguably the last care on Jenna's mind in a state like this, you just said, "Need a spare room?"
Jenna was once again led down the stifling backstage corridors while you searched for the room caught empty minutes before.
"Aha. It's this one. No one should use it for the time being." Jenna looked over to you hoping you'd catch the hint of thankfulness that wasn't expressed verbally.
White polished doors with numbers scribbled on them were pushed open for her to enter. You stepped in flicking some of the lights on mindfully so.
The actress passed your side like she was ordered to tiptoe. Then again you thought not to push the buttons further. You watched her secure a couch usually used for meetings and whatnot. Her whole figure was hunched and crumpled. Gaze aimed at the floor. The trembling did not cease which made you rock back and forth on one foot. Hesitating between leaving or staying. How much of a helping hand can you even be right now? The two somebodies that passed eachother by pure accident, knowing nothing about eachother and one is now ready to risk the job over it.
"Uh, in case you need anything i'm working around the stage for the next hour," you added hopefully but met with silence for response.
"Unless...?" Every plan of turning around and continuing your job was cast aside the moment she finally spoke. Cutting you off rightfully so.
"Can you stay?"
It's the tone in which she spoke that made you agree in a flash. It was worded so quickly and almost coldly as if she already predicted the answer. Like she's been given the same one on repeat in the past and yours will sound no different out loud.
Your hand left the door handle in the same manner her eyes did the ground to take a look at you but returned just as fast once you were closing in.
"Is it the audience?" Perhaps not the best conversation starter, starting right at what you presumed to be the core of it.
It's the first time she gave you full attention, you noted. Though it looks like it was short lived and no success achieved.
"Even you saw it?" She asked under defeated breath before her head fell on propped hands. Hearing the whimpers and cries she couldn't bear to hold any longer made you wonder how much worse you just made this for her. The picture of what you caused felt outright depressing to witness.
You sat beside her washed in guilt, trying to fix the situation. Might as well take your time since you disregarded the work awaiting outside this empty room. "Well they don't know what's like to be on stage, do they? Let alone be an actor." You felt your body make a gamble against you, moving with a mind of its own before you could form regret for it. It was like a backup in case the words were of no use.
But Jenna didn't back away. Not in a way you were aware of at least. You're certain the sincere embrace you offered would let you know so. Because you were able to feel her every sniff, shake and tremor that traveled through or is drawing near and so on repeated in a circle. Shirt that was getting stained by the tears went unnoticed.
"Hey, hey focus on me," you spoke softly. Lining up your calmed breathing for her, hoping she will follow by.
Unmistakably the gesture that was felt in return said it all. Jenna hugged you back, drawing you in the most close-knit grip possible. It came across as the hug that was desired desperately. Obvious which side craved it more but you couldn't deny fully it meant nothing to you.
You were not sure how long you remained like this. Long enough to quiet down her cries and make you believe she lost to sleep how her body slumped more and more by the passing minutes. But on the other side of you, Jenna was awake. She must admit it is bizarrely soothing, the strangers embrace. Maybe she crossed the line and anxiety blended with comfort has gotten too wrapped around her head.
That's why she broke the silence huskily, "I'm Jenna by the way." The arms left you shyly and you eventually had her in front of you. After what seemed like the most peace you both ever had there were still homes to head to.
"I think i read it on my schedule this morning," that earned you a smile of hers for a while. She looked tired, burnt out to be precise. While you did say your name it seemed like it was lost in the air.
"Sorry i'm still getting over it," stated rubbing her eyes, "but you do feel like the best nap ever to be honest."
You stopped yourself from dwelling any deeper into studying that sentence so you just returned, "I don't mind, you have it rough anyway. It's the least i can do here."
While recollecting herself in silence, Jenna glanced at the spotted clock on her side and sighed. Once her eyes locked with yours, swearing hers softened for a moment or two, she uttered,
"Do you need a ride?" Truly wishful for her hearing to pick up on your hopeful yes. How could you disappoint?
"That would be great," you clarified standing up, "I've been on my feet all day."
It was seasonal, side job after all. And maybe the chance of getting to know the entire side of the story wouldn't hurt you.
notes: casually spent time over 1k words on a fanfic instead of doing a project for the next week 10/10
*tried to portray anxiety in the closest/correct way but as someone not diagnosed mistakes are possible so apologies in advance
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໒⦂ 𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒.
synopsis. in which cloud tries one last time to get through to sephiroth by a promise he’d once made, but it’s easier said than done.
genre. angst
tw. mentions of death and self harm / suicide ( nobody does anything dw, it’s more so brought into conversation ), self degradation ( not the uh SOLDIER kind, just y’know- insecurities.. )
sephiroth x cloud strife.
the blond staggered backwards from the strength of his greatest foe, gritting his teeth in annoyance. for having the thinnest blade in the world, he sure made his broadsword look like a feeble joke.
the buster might as well have been a children’s toy with the way sephiroth met his every strike, thrice as strong as cloud’s. but that was just how things were — they had matched each other to near perfection, even if the latter had much to learn still.
although that connotation only seemed to amuse the taller, knowing that at last, he was presented with an opponent that gave him a challenge. “you’re keeping up with me this time, cloud. afraid of messing up and losing everything again to me?” he inquired lowly, almost mockingly, yet curiously. “careful now, unless you want attachment to be your downfall once more.”
the spiky haired male wanted to fire back a retort, feeling his anger creep on him slowly, gradually, but he swallowed it down.
sephiroth, cloud reminded himself, was not in his right mind. he was not the man he once idolized and felt.. something.. for. overcome by jenova and his weak mind after all events leading up to nibelheim, the former hero was met with hollowed out shell of who he once was.. which his so called mother decided to help herself to claiming.
while the mercenary had a lot to be mad for, much to loathe his enemy for and every right to end his life yet again.. a promise echoed in his head, one that he had made long ago on the outskirts of midgar to an old friend — his reason for being alive to even face sephiroth again.
to be his living legacy.. and, to save his past buddy — the one winged angel before he had fallen from grace.
cloud knew it wouldn’t be easy, it never was with sephiroth.. still, he had a vow to uphold, and despite failing to do so in their previous skirmishes.. he was determined this time to pave his way through — to the sephiroth he once knew.
“attachment won’t be my downfall, sephiroth.” he shook his head, straightening himself out to the best of his abilities. “you’re just too high up on that pedestal of yours now to realize it.”
the silver haired male curled his lips, chuckling. “is that so?” he quipped back softly, circling the blond. “enlighten me on how this battle of ours will lead to a different outcome, then, cloud.”
it was now the mercenary’s turn to smirk as he angled the point of his blade into the ground, sinking it into place before stepping up to his opponent. “cuz i won’t be fighting you this time.” he answered flatly, folding his arms.
piqued, the older quirked a gray brow before humming lightly. “a foolish approach. or could it be that my despair has gotten to you at last.” he remarked, lowering masamune to his side as he took long, but slow strides toward cloud. “whatever it might be, it will get you killed.”
the mako-azure eyed male was hardly fazed, having expected such a response, though it wouldn’t stop him. it might have before, but not this time. “if that’s how it is, i would have been killed years ago, and you know it.” he retaliated smartly, folding his arms over his chest. “you pretty much had every chance at killing me, whether in a fight or those times you decided it would be fun to fuck around and haunt me. so why now?” cloud pressed, stepping forward again, challengingly. “why will it get me killed now, and not back then?”
sephiroth was silent for a moment, the proximity now eliminated between him and his adversary.
normally, cloud would never indulge him in conversation for long — would not make an attempt at negotiating that didn’t last less than two minutes.
this was.. different. strange. unlike the blond he’d lock blades with many times before.
what had changed?
“perhaps.” he answered at length, if only to decrease the duration of his lack of response. “i saw no reason to kill you then. i still do not see a purpose in doing so now.” shinra’s former hero spoke, looking ahead. “however, your lack of guard, attachments.. and overconfidence, will destroy you.” he continued, flickering his gaze back down to the shorter. “whether or not that is by my hand, or some other occurrence.”
cloud furrowed his brows. this wasn’t the full story, it was almost as if sephiroth had been.. “bullshit. you’re hiding something.” he fired back immediately, but leveled. “minus what happened in nibelheim, you’ve never finished me off or left any life threatening injuries. you appear randomly to either give me some weird ass psychological torture to encourage me or warn me.” he ranted, meeting the other’s aloof stare. “i’m in the way of your ultimate goal, yet you let me live. what’s with that shit?” the self proclaimed ex-first class SOLDIER finished, searching his opponent for something — anything that could shed clarity on his confusion.
but sephiroth was, and always would be, an enigma.
not that it mattered to cloud. he was getting answers, and he wasn’t going to let the feline eyed male leave him in the dark once more; he had enough of that already.
“answer me.” the merc pressed, impatience growing when the other hadn’t responded.
sephiroth gave a small smirk and another low laugh of his. “demanding, aren’t we?” he jested lightly, shrugging his shoulders before shaking his head. “i expected no less, cloud.” he turned to face the moonless sky. “do you remember what i said to you before, after you’d blown up the first mako reactor?”
the blond’s memories were a fog — a thick mist cast over most events in his life, but that, that he remembered. all too clear, in fact. it might as well have been a real encounter.
“you went on about the planet’s suffering and how you would hate to be on it if i wasn’t here with you.” the spiky haired male paraphrased, eyeing him skeptically. “what’s that got to do with any of this?”
mako slitted eyes slid down to meet sapphire-teal, the smile on his lips growing. “everything, cloud.” he answered in that suave, hushed tone of his, facing the boy before him. “without you, i would not be. and without me,” sephiroth paused, leaning in closer. “you, cloud, would not be.”
the blond let out a mirthless laugh, glaring at the other. “so what, i gotta kill myself now to stop you? take us both down to put an end to your shit?” he pressed, ignoring the pitter patter to his fragile heart.
silver flowed in the wind, glimmering beneath the starry ebony. “is that what you believe to be the solution, cloud?”
enraptured in those intense eyes, the male in question found difficulty in averting his stare, let alone mustering a reply.
leave it to sephiroth to tear his thoughts to shambles, weaving in his own confusing ones to fuck with his.
“you’re basically saying you can’t live without me, so yeah.” he answered curtly, shifting his weight to his opposite half. “unless you finally wanna stop being cryptic and give a clear answer.”
the long haired male let out a hum, blinking slowly, as a bored cat would. “now what fun would there be in that, cloud? i rather enjoy your guessing.” he responded as a matter of factly, crossing his arms over the broad expanse of his chest.
cloud let a moment pass, mainly because he knew he would lose his shit if he spoke up right away. and that.. would not get through to his past idol. “so then if i just struck my heart and bled out, you wouldn’t give a single-?”
“i would not allow it.” sephiroth intercepted a little above the latter’s tone, feeling the crisp air caress his pale cheeks.
“but i.. will not end.” cloud once heard him say, at the edge of creation. “nor will i let you end.”
was this.. what he meant?
the blond gritted his teeth. “like i would listen to a thing you say.” he bit back, picking up his sword. “maybe i should, then, since you don’t want me to.”
with furrowed brows, the taller trudged forward, manifesting his odachi. “you will do no such.”
a normal person would have backed out by now, and once upon a time, if he was still the pathetic rank he was, cloud might have done so, too. “why not? petty that my death would end your reign before it even comes?” he mocked, matching the intensity of his nemesis’s gaze.
however, sephiroth’s had been short lived. “cloud, i mean it. you would be wise not to inflict harm upon yourself.”
“don’t pretend you care.” the merc countered, gripping his hilt tighter. “you just need me for the stupid bond.” he argued before shaking his head, heaving a breath. “why did i even bother trying to save you? i knew i would break yet another promise to zack, and for some odd reason, i still tried for him.” he lowered his great sword. “more importantly, or actually, stupidly, i tried for you.”
the former SOLDIER found himself at a loss for a change. the last he’d been rendered speechless was that day in nibelheim — the encounter with genesis that led him down this dark path hojo had paved personally for him- for jenova.
“you are as naive as zack was, to believe that i needed saving and that it needs to be done by you, cloud.” he scoffed, tearing his gaze away from him. “why should i require saving? i have never felt more myself.”
cloud pursed his lips together, growing considerably more annoyed. “if yourself is her, then that isn’t you. that’s not who you were.” he disagreed, fighting every urge in his body that just screamed to give up on this pacifistic method of his and resume to the usual fighting.
it was what the blond was good at, anyway, what he’d been made to do.. and yet, here he was, negotiating like a fool.
sephiroth appeared unbothered, minus the knit to his brows. “that is who i am, and who i was destined to become. the person you speak of was weak, trying so pathetically hard to fit into humanity despite himself. and what was the result? betrayal, and by his close ones no less. the one you see before you now, has embraced himself for who he is, and it has made him strong.”
the buster felt heavy in his hands for once, perhaps its way of telling him not to raise the blade that had been passed down to him. a poor attempt on behalf the first and second holder — whom cloud had made his promise to.
how troublesome.
“zack didn’t betray you.” cloud willed himself to say, lifting his burning gaze back up to his enemy’s. “you left him in the dark for trying to help you. fine if you wanna be pissed at me for stabbing you, but he actually tried to be there for you.. countless times, and you,” he paused for breath, knowing the difficulties of digging into his memories, but it was necessary. “you shut him out.” he finished quietly, lowering his eyes to the broadsword in his gloved hands. “i know i’m not him, i’ll never be half the man he was. but i’m.. i’m what’s left of him, the proof that he lived — and if he told me that you were worth saving..” the blond sucked in a breath, peering back up through his unruly bangs. “then, you are.”
the former famed hero was reticent for a moment, and the male across from him began to wonder if he had perhaps spoken too much. however, he reminded himself that his words had to be brought across.
whether or not that had upset sephiroth.
“if zack truly wanted to save me, he would have continued trying despite my words.” he broke the silence, narrowing his eyes slightly. “had he cared as you claim he had, would he not have continued pressing? zack did so for everything else- had done so for angeal, even when he told him to stop.. and yet, he gave up on me the moment i told him to.” sephiroth acknowledged bitterly, recalling the event as though it had been yesterday.
flipping through towers of books in the library beneath shinra manor, page after page of what was hidden from him — each more agonizing than the last. not a single soul to save him from his inevitable descent into madness.
cloud, not knowing what to say, fell quiet, weighing the words of his past role model. his reason for even joining shinra in the first place.
the blond would be lying if he said he hadn’t understood sephiroth and his reasoning, as he dealt with his own share of being left out in the dark.. but still, “and if he continued to come, then what? would you have listened? would zack have gotten through that thick ass skull of yours?”
his lips tightened. “perhaps he would have, because i would have known that i was worth pushing for.” he answered softly, clenching his fist. “but i.. was not. and he left his dying wish to someone bathed in guilt, who only seeks to do it to fulfill a promise and have his supposed sins forgiven.” sephiroth finished, more frigid than the frost cloud once walked through in modeoheim.
it pierced like daggers through his chest — the spot he’d once plunged masamune into back in nibelheim.
was the spiky haired male really just doing it to be forgiven..? to feel like he had done at least one thing right in the pathetic life he led? the one that continued to be saved time and time again, when really, it should have just been left to shrivel and return to the lifestream. if he was even worthy of it.
or was it, that cloud had truly wanted to save sephiroth? even in spite of his anguish — the resentment he harbored since that fateful incident.
overcome by his muddled feelings, the blond acted on impulse and dropped his weapon to pull down the other by the straps across his chest.
his heart was heavy, hands clammy because of how close his nemesis had stood — the stakes higher than ever before.. but cloud didn’t care. he couldn’t bother to care as he pressed his lips against the rosewood ones of his former inspiration — his reason.
a shock that didn’t quite reach his eyes struck through sephiroth, but it wasn’t long before he returned the kiss. strongly, passionately. never chaste — because that wasn’t them.
cloud could never forgive himself for being put out of commission as he was during the visit back then to the mako reactor. his promise to protect his childhood friend and to measure up to the firsts became his downfall — and that become fodder for his self hatred.
because maybe, just maybe, he could have at least made that effort to put aside his pain and visit sephiroth himself — or at any rate, push zack some more to visit.. but he could not. the former infantryman failed that time, failed many times after..
but not today.
cloud refused to let another opportunity go to waste.
deprived of his breath, because the mercenary only expected his adversary to steal it away entirely, wholly for himself, he at last broke away, panting.
his gloved fingers still encircled those crisscrossed suspenders, cheeks burning with color as his eyes opened to a half lidded state.
sephiroth appeared more composed than he had, but there was the slightest hint of fervor on him as well, the breathlessness resulting from the heated contact they exchanged.
somehow, his hands found their way to the shorter’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer to his body as he held him there without any intentions of letting him go.
part of him wanted to call cloud foolish, for subjecting himself to such an impulsive act, such a poor attempt at getting his feelings across.. but the silver haired general would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it- if he hadn’t wanted it. that sensation of those flushed appendages pressed so wantonly up against his own. it was unlike anything he’d felt before.
and from cloud, no less.
“i’m not doing this shit for validation. maybe i do wanna feel like i at least succeeded at one thing in my life — but this..” he relinquished his grasp a little, lifting his sharp mako tinted eyes. “me saving you.. this is something i didn’t get to do back then — instead i..” cloud swallowed the lump forming in his throat, willing his voice to remain steady. “i killed you. i promised that i would do what zack couldn’t do, and i instead, i just — continued to fight you because i was angry.. conflicted.. betrayed, too.” as it wasn’t only sephiroth that had his share of treachery. “and i just let that consume me.. that, and you kept insisiting for me to hold into that hatred, too.. saying to fill my heart with rage — rather than just,” a stuttered exhale. “letting me help you.”
they were nothing to each other back then, when they needed the other most. were in essence strangers, despite the mercenary knowing and idolizing him.
now, they were everything to one another, in every way possible. sephiroth could not be without cloud, and likewise cloud could be without sephiroth.
the long haired swordsman brought a leather clad hand to his lightly tanned cheek, lowering his hooded cat-like eyes. “you cannot help me, cloud. if you could not do so then.. what makes you believe that you could now?”
lifting a hand to hold the one that cradled his cheek so gently, cloud squeezed his, sapphire burning with determination. “because that was then, and this is now.” the merc repeated the words that were once spoken to him — a petty interception of his accusation on whether or not he had killed the self proclaimed son of jenova.
the taller allowed his lips to curl, a soft hum leaving them. “quoting me now? that was a different context, as you know.” he spoke up smoothly, circling his thumb on the other’s cheek. “still, ‘saving me’, as you phrased it.. will undoubtedly cost you. are you prepared to make that sacrifice?”
cloud allowed his fingers to slip between the cracks of sephiroth’s, scoffing lightly. “is this supposed to be different from any other time?” he questioned before rolling his eyes. “i think i’ll manage just fine, so you can stop trying to make me doubt my choices.” his childhood hero was a lot of things, but this side of him was entirely different from what the media displayed and the version of himself that had emerged from shinra mansion that day and onward.
this sephiroth.. was vulnerable, human, despite what he claimed. he was entitled to his share of insecurities and doubts outside of that unyielding face of confidence he wore.
he hid well, had discarded him completely for this arrogant, vengeance seeking sephiroth. but there were cracks, and cloud was willing to slip into them to find the man he once knew.
although they would be sharp edged, it was no different from any strike inflicted upon him in the past. so what was a few more?
the silver haired SOLDIER looked ready to protest, to rebuttal his words once more, however the arguments fell silent on his tongue, a laugh surfacing in their place. “it seems i underestimated you, cloud. perhaps you will save me after all,” he spoke up softly, leaning into his ear. “i cannot promise it will be easy, though.”
leaning his chin on his large pauldron, the blond let out a noise of amusement watching as silver spilled and curtained all around him. “like anything is ever easy between us.” cloud shook his head before closing his eyes. “it’s a good thing i’m used to it, sephiroth.”
a large hand slid to the small of his back, a chuckle sounding. “it’s a good thing you are, cloud.”
notes. my bad y’all i drafted this on the plane last week and i felt the need to finish it before i continued the rest of my requests ( my inbox is in the twenties guys.. ) anyways, to sefikura enjoyers and passerbys, hope you guys liked it, pls refrain from ship hate or i will slam that block button on your asses ok bye<3
↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask
#— ; 🏹 ) final fantasy vii fics.#sefikura#sefikura writing#sephiroth#cloud strife#sephiroth x cloud#ffvii#sephiroth x cloud strife#ff7#final fantasy 7#final fantasy vii#sephicloud#sephikura#sephiroth ff7#sephiroth ffvii#cloud ffvii#cloud ff7#final fantasy cloud#final fantasy sephiroth
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Re-reading MDZS: CH 11 - 16
I'm rereading MDZS with my friend @zenenini out loud (with voice acting, it's so fun!) and here are some of our observations:
1. Wei Wuxian is such a gaslighting girlboss. The narrative is written interestingly, where firstly, we see the actions and the dialogues and only afterwards are we exposed to Wei Wuxian's thoughts - such as him sneaking out from behind "Lan Wangji's area of protection" to get whipped by Jiang Cheng in a way that he'll only crash into Lil Apple and prove that he's not possessed this body.
2. Lan Wangji's Wangji is stronger than Jiang Cheng's Zidian. The line went like, "the former waned, the latter waxed." And Wangji produces ripples of energy like a wave, and brightens up the night sky to look like it's daytime.
3. Even if Wei Wuxian is the ultimate evil overlord patriarch, the public cannot deny his talents, his looks and his charming personality. I found it extremely funny that they didn't comment on the increduility of the charming, 4th ranked Yiling Laozu possessing the body of a cutsleeve because Jiang Cheng, who was ranked 5th, was there and they didn't want to anger him by complimenting wei wuxian.
4. Sizhui is such a wangxian child - like he's got the manners of Lan Wangji and the wits of Wei Wuxian. Sizhui is a REAL mediator, not Lan Xichen.
5. Lan Wangji probably thought Wei Wuxian played Wangxian or came under his "protection" willingly because he'd have remembered the past.
6. Wei Wuxian calculated everything perfectly down to the last detail of how to get away from Jiang Cheng etc, but did NOT expect Lan Wangji's personality change and has stated twice he believes him to be possessed instead.
7. On the matter of Jiang Cheng, like I said - Wei Wuxian previously never compared Jiang Cheng to anybody, even encouraging his natural talents. He knew Jiang Cheng hated comparison the most, yet throughout the narrative in present time, he compares Jiang Cheng with Lan Wangji relentlessly.
8. Wei Wuxian has not experienced a single positive emotion upon seeing Jiang Cheng well, etc, only disbelief that his hatred was still strong. Jiang Cheng has only felt disgust towards Mo Xuanyu being gay, and anger, hatred and a desire to torture Wei Wuxian.
9. Wei Wuxian is such a Lan, like I'm always shocked by just how much Lan stuff he explains - the origins behind the name Cloud Recesses, the discipline wall, the manner of the disciples, etc.
10. Lan Wangji: Let him cry. When he is done, drag him inside. (fuck)
Lan Xichen: you should treat your guests with more courtesy
Lan Wangji: anyway you are going to meet Jin Guangyao again lol bye
Lan Wangji: drag him inside
Wei Wuxian: ???
11. The fact Lan Wangji can read behind Wei Wuxian's intentions - he knows WiFi will annoy his brother, so he silenced him.
12. I also wonder just what was going inside Lan Xichen's head. How are you so aloof bro, let me know what are your thoughts? Btw, loved how we got told about the Jin Discussion Conference rn.
13. There was a paragraph comparing the statuses of illegitimate sons of Jin Guangsham, I found that interesting.
14. Wei Wuxian thinks both Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are against him, yet it's better to be locked up than be whipped!
15. Wei Wuxian ALWAYS notes the scent of sandalwood when Lan Wangji is involved and what does he say again, the smell "had a way of tugging at one's heartstrings???" like bro... it's just you. But what's insane is that, he's moving towards the incense (probably in an attempt to smell like Lan Wangji!) What Zene and I said about this was "bro, you're probably are just a zither under Lan Wangji's hands cause why does everything tug at you"
16. Reading Wei Wuxian's narrative is like: although it wasn't sentimental: IT WAS SENTIMENTAL. HE MISSED IT.
17. Wei Wuxian thinking of how Lan Wangji probably practices his zither in this room, etc, and then randomly throwing in the knowledge that btw, he used to dig graves, find holes etc is so him.
18. Wei Wuxian had the greatest idea of stealing a jade token, and he was even aware of how the security would be like - like, this guy, apparently has the worst memory ever. and he remembered where the cold springs were exactly. WHY? Because of that ONE moment.
19. Wei Wuxian already recognized Lan Wangji from behind - he commented that the person was a bathing beauty.
20. The fact Wei Wuxian was looking at Lan Wangji in a 'im attracted' sort of way, but rationalised it by saying that he was only looking at the scars, or the seal, and that of course, he can't be actually attracted to a man! Like, ugh, bro. You have a storm coming.
21. Lan Wangji: are you sure that this is what you want?
WWX: blushing like a slut
LWJ: then stay like this for the whole night
Me: SKDJKSJDKSJDKSJDKSJDKSDJKSDJKSDJSKDJKJ
22. The fact that Wei Wuxian couldn't sleep, and THAT is why he went to Lan Wangji's room, and then rationalized it by saying that he was gonna get the jade token - and then he threw himself onto Lan Wangji. Also, the fact that he's so chill about escaping, like i bet he's thinking, let's just have as much fun as we can, i'll leave anyway ~~
23. Lil Apple is Wei Wuxian's comfort person, therapist, mother, and best friend.
24. Wei Wuxian sad thoughts about how Lan Wangji probably thought about him like everyone else did - a tyrant, etc. And him mocking the Lan Sect's 'righteousness.'
25. Wei Wuxian had thoughts about the sear. LIKE DON"T BE A COWARD SPEAK THEM OUT. Also, Wei Wuxian had thoughts about Lan Wangji dressed down, in simple, night robes. ><
26. Wei Wuxian trying to think over their relationship and describing it as moments that got lost in the bigger span of time.
27. 15 year old Wei Wuxian was IT. like, idk, he was just IT. Also, Jiang Cheng just exists to mock, berate, warn, make fun of, etc. And Nie Huaisang was already so keen, like he noticed that LQR was targeting WWX more than the others, and didn't dismiss his ideas.
28. LQR: as a disciple of the YMJ sect, you shouldn't be too proud at knowing these things
Also LQR: look at my self taught, prodigy born, second heir, best disciple Lan Wangji, who knows everything! And of course, as the second heir, he is expected but that's not the point. The point is HE IS BETTER THAN YOU AND YOU ARE A MENACE TO SOCIETY.
WWX: ah, yeah, fuck this imma out
29. LQR forewarned us about WWX's future TT
30. LWJ didn't express as much outrage over Wei Wuxian's demonic theories as LQR did, but he was intrigued.
31. Dude, Zene and I were thinking of just how many regrets LWJ fostered for 13 years.
WWX: Lan-er-gongzi, do me a favour and look at me!
WWX: Won't you look at me?
WWX: Lan Zhan, look at me!
WWX: Do you... hate me that much?
WWX: I really wanted to apologize!
32. VERY IMPORTANT DETAIL: In a way, both Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng got punished with the discipline whip for saving Wei Wuxian, and the discipline scar remains as a reminder to 'never make the same mistake again.' But Lan Wangji makes this 'mistake' every day. Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, despite getting his whip mark from the 'unrighteous people' never protected Wei Wuxian again.
33. The detail that people in the Jiang Sect have so much servitude towards Jiang Cheng, and are so in-tune with the regular ploy of 'catch the demonic cultivator to torture him.'
34. Wei Wuxian fucking gaslighted the HECK out of Lan Wangji! He's so dauntless, like, nothing scares him bro, i understand why people wanted to off him. LIKE HE's SO ON THE PAGE.
35. Wei Wuxian: Lan Wangji is very pretty. VeRY PRETTY.
Wei Wuxian: who cares if he hates me, does he think he is that pretty?
Also WWX: YEAH FUCK HE IS THAT PRETTY
36. Wei Wuxian: why should i learn the lan clan rules? i don't intend to marry in the lan clan! (also wwx, using about 3-4 lan rules at lwj to rile him up)
37. Lan Wangji: You, go outside, we have fought before. (clown music)
Wei Wuxian: Against the rules HAHAHAHAHAHA
LWJ: WHAT SORT OF PERSON ARE YOU?
WWX: A MAN.
38. WWX tried to befriend LWJ for a month or so, he failed, and he decided to make him experience his firsts - the first time he shouted and cursed was at WWX LOLOL.
39. NHS being like don't worry bro keep up the free entertainment and you can get as many porn books as you like!
#mo dao zu shi#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#wangxian#canon jiang cheng#my thoughts#rereading mdzs#mdzs with fea and zene#novel excerpt
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Rickmas 2023: Day 6. Out of Care | Snape & Eileen
Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:
Christmas was a time for family, so everyone said, but to Severus that only meant misery. Quiet, tense dinners in the Snape household were the norm; it was no different on Christmas Day, except with even heavier drinking from his father and maybe the odd card from a distant relative Severus had never met.
But there was one thing he loved about Christmas. Every Christmas Eve, his father spent the day at the pub with his mates for a “boys Christmas,” and his mother took him to the Christmas Market in Diagon Alley.
It was the one day a year that Severus got to go to Diagon Alley as a child. He and his mother would wander the streets, looking at the trinkets on sale that they could never afford, smelling the food and drink on offer, and some years Eileen even managed to save up enough spare change to buy Severus a treat.
He also got to visit the shops, to look in wonder at the apothecary and the bookshop. Severus was forbidden to go down Knockturn Alley, but that just made it all the more enticing, and Eileen more than once turned around to find him gone, running after him only to find him talking to some cloaked figure down the forbidden alleyway.
At Hogwarts, Severus learned enough of potions and magic to offer an under the table potion brewing service at school, and he saved every knut of it for Christmas time. For years Eileen had been saving to buy her son a cinnamon-dusted hot chocolate at the Christmas Market every year, but now he was finally able to buy one for her. He treated her to sweets too, and a gift, and she begged that it was too much for a son to treat his mother, but his stubbornness won out and for once in her life Eileen Snape smiled.
When Severus brewed his first successful Amortentia, it smelled like the old books of the library, a vanilla blancmanche, and cinnamon-dusted hot chocolate. He made a fortune selling love potions that year, especially with the school’s winter ball coming up, and for once he was looking forward to going home, because he would finally be able to treat his mother as she deserved.
It was only two days before the Hogwarts Express would take him home that Professor Slughorn pulled Severus aside after Potions class and delivered him the news that his mother had been found dead in her home, the muggle police were treating it as suspicious, his father was nowhere to be found and did he have somewhere else to go for the holidays or would he like to stay in the castle?
Although between a castle empty of Marauders and a home with his father he’d prefer the former, he had every year previous chosen the latter for the sake of his mother. He couldn’t bear the thought of her alone with Tobias at Christmas when he was at his drunkest, and he didn’t want to miss out on treating her at the Christmas Market.
But there was nothing to go back to now. Christmas was family, and as far as Severus was concerned, his family consisted of himself and his mother - and now, with her gone, he was alone.
When he told Lily why he wasn’t coming home for Christmas, she showed him pity and sorrow, and though he would have said yes in an instant the invitation to spend Christmas with the Evanses was never extended.
And so Severus opted to stay at Hogwarts. For two weeks the castle was almost empty, save for him, one Slytherin girl a year above him, and two first-year Ravenclaws. There was a peacefulness to it - no Potter lurking around the corner to ambush him, no giggling girls gossiping in the library, no boisterous Gryffindors running down the corridors. It was everything Severus had dreamed of at school.
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. He didn’t care for Christmas anymore. The one spark of joy that it had brought - that one trip a year with his mother - was gone with her, and he felt empty in the moments he was too exhausted to feel angry.
On Christmas Eve, Severus got out of bed only because his stomach had begun to growl at him for not eating for three days straight. He pulled back the curtain of his bed and turned towards the bedside table to retrieve his wand… and almost knocked over a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
He paused, his hand frozen in mid-reach for his wand. He looked around the room, as if someone would step out of the shadows and reveal their mysterious hot chocolate ways. But he was alone, just as he had been since the end of term.
He picked up his wand and cast charms on the mug, but he found no evidence of magic other than a warming spell to stop it getting cold.
The mug even looked the same as the ones from the market stall. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, it was the same one as from the market stall. The smell was unmistakable, the colour, even the way the cinnamon was sprinkled on top in the shape of a Christmas tree.
Severus picked up the mug and cautiously took a sip. It was the same!
On the table beneath where the mug had sat was a slip of parchment. In unfamiliar handwriting, it said:
Severus -
Keep her alive.
That was it. No signature, no clue of who his mysterious benefactor was.
Keep her alive. That was what the note said. His mystery barista had only one message for him, one they felt the need to deliver anonymously, and he hoped they weren’t watching him now to see the tears falling down his face.
Whoever they were, they were right. He had to keep her alive. She was half of him, and he owed her everything. Next year he would go to the market, and he would have the hot chocolate with cinnamon, and he would remember her.
But he still never really cared for Christmas.
#rickmas2023#severus snape#pro snape#alan rickman#eileen snape#(just pretend he's a teenager in the gif lol)
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At this point I've basically long since run dry on Bleach funfacts, certainly out of any that have any real weight in the broader readings of the series. But I do have one not-so-fun fact still left up my sleeve --a real dead end nothing contribution... So buckle up, I guess? I apologize in advance if this ends up, like, I dunno, spoiling the aesthetic(?) for anyone. Feel free to just ignore this and move on if you're touchy about keeping your obsessive fandom experiences squeaky clean.
So, I noted back when I was combing thru Quincy terms, that it felt a little less than comfy that in addition to the general n*zi aesthetics Juugram's official title was in fact "Sternritter Grand Master" which felt, at the time, like an unfortunate coincidence that it would fall in line with the naming scheme of the K*K's nonsense titles like Grand Wizard/Grand Dragon, Grand Cyclops, Grand Magi and various other ridiculous sounding occultist LARPer horseshit they've cycled thru over the past century+. But I just kinda left it at that and didn't think to dig any deeper,
But then I was reminded that in the early days of the K*K one of their stated goals was to establish a white supremacist "country" inside the united states, and as they dabbled in this insurgency fantasy, they dubbed this goal of a secret, second, white nation within the confines of the USA, their "Invisible Empire"...
And although the word we hear throughout the TYBW arc is the German Wändenreich[ヴァンデンライヒ] from Wänden:“Walls” and Reich:“Empire/Realm,” the Japanese meaning underlying that term is [見えざる帝国]: “Unseen/Invisible Empire.”
In fact the white robed and hoods tradition stemmed from what were initially petty pranks(although they escalated very quickly in seriousness and danger) in which they would menace black communities and abolitionists by pretending to be the ghosts of dead confederates. In this capacity the imagery and language around them also evoked an "Army of Ghosts."
And although it was never properly addressed, there was always this vague issue of the Quincy's ages... Those with clear backgrounds like Juugram and Bazz-B seem impossibly old. And we see that As Nodt is recruited on what appears to be his deathbed --in a hospital, on life support and in fear of dying, with a bible on his bedside as if ready to be read his last rites-- and of course the Quincy genocide of 200 years prior.
And tangential to this, we see the brief, if mostly pointless, return of the three dead Fullbringers --Ginjo, Tsukishima, and Giriko-- who all seem to have retained their memories and powers across the borders of life and death. (We won't ask about how or why their fullbring items are still usable) Is it safe to speculate then that the Quincy are in fact a literal Army of Ghosts? It explains how they're able to go toe to toe with the shinigami in ways Uryuu's initial explanations of their skills would've suggested wasn't possible. (i.e. that they were describes as being regular flesh and bone humans and only their weapons are actually supernatural, and thus they are not capable of particularly extraordinary physical feats, or blessed with any superhuman durability.) And it also sort of makes more sense that rather than being a bunch of flesh and blood humans who survived losing the war, somehow spiritized themselves to get into the afterlife, and then hid for 999 years, that they could have just been humans who died first and were recruited as ghosts, having been spirited away into the shadow realm. Or Quincy that died with the full intent of reuniting as ghosts, having some kind of assurance that they would retain their memories and powers.
I like the former over the latter though, as it means the Ishida family really were the last living Quincy. But I do like the morbid idea of Yhwach commanding his army, Jamestown style, to kill themselves as the first step to them going to heaven. Only in this case the kingdom of god as they imagine it has to be fought for because the shinigami are already have a whole society there and need to be driven out first.
There is also a lot of "Knight" and "White Knight" imagery and titles evoked in the K*K's long history, and while that's absolutely vague enough to be handwaved on its own, it's definitely not not adjacent to all this....
(This has nothing to do with anything I just had already slapped the uniforms pic together and wanted to use it somewhere)
So to sort of loosely review everything going on with the Quincy....
Catholic inverted priest frocks, crosses, silver and exorcisms, holy eucharist angel wings&halo final forms, blood eucharist schrift, conversion based recruitment policies, the whole "one kingdom under god" shtick, miracle baby son of god christ figure, explicit mention of monotheism
but then also 5 pointed crosses/stars and pentagrams,
victims of a genocide with a dr.mengele nemesis, YHWACH-v-YHWH
inverted Hugo Boss uniforms, german themed attacks, skills and tools, crosses again, explicitly evoking the Schutzstaffel with Yhwach's royal guard, and nonsense blood purity eugenics b.s.... weirdly not touched upon "black sun" or swastika imagery tied to Ichigo
For some reason a few loose threads of what appear to be Loius XIV and his sun god apollo fixation, purifying light and sun and stars motifs
YHWACH having big Backbeard energy, the literal evocation of Backbeard, being a western ghost army
and now these mismatched crumbs of what appear to be deliberate K*K references: ghost army, invisible empire, grandmaster, etc...
Like... I don't think this makes them worse, or paints Kubo as some kind of crackpot racist --in case my stance on his use of n*zi imagery didn't make that clear-- but like... I don't know what to make of it honestly... It's as inconsequential to the actual message or plot as anything else, including the n*zi stuff, but it just feels weird knowing it's there? Just sorta loitering around in the background?? Also the Quincy are just such a bizarre clusterfuck of unfocused nonsense ""themes"" with like zero actual content just in general. Given everything that's in that slurry I think that might be for the better? Because any coherent message drawn from all of these influences probably couldn't have been any good...
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Dream Lantern Chapter 2
I said I'd work on something unreasonably ambitious.
AO3 link.
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The boy had grown quiescent since leaving the serpent behind. No doubt entranced by the exquisite untruths revealed by Falsehood's token. With the connection Nocturne had forged between themself and his dreams, they could feel his awareness softening, memory unspooling, as he tended to something more akin to sleepwalking than waking dreams.
With a delicate touch of power, they shaped the tone of his dreams into something more agreeable to them. A veneer of cooperation that would, in Phantom's current state, seem completely solid. They did not need another incident like that with Falsehood.
Nocturne should have remembered what they had told themself earlier. The boy wasn’t stupid. Young, yes, naive, yes, ignorant, yes, uneducated, yes, yes, yes, and a hundred more things besides, but not stupid. And he most certainly counted Nocturne as not only an enemy, but a dishonorable one.
Correctly, of course. At least from his perspective. The rules of conflict Nocturne followed were not ones Phantom would consider fair, but they were still rules, and ones that had been codified long before Phantom was even a twinkle in his parents’ eyes.
Even so. Nocturne hadn’t been planning on simply letting Phantom’s kin go.
Phantom was both useful and dangerous. Hostages could help ensure he stayed the former while reducing the latter quality. But now… The child didn't have a reputation for vengeance, had never hunted down an enemy that wasn't a trespasser, rarely did more damage than was necessary for capture, and released all his enemies, even Nocturne.
But. Phantom was still a ghost. And ghosts could hold grudges for spans of time that far exceeded human lives.
Nocturne would have to keep an eye out for both the mechanism through which Falsehood would twist reality, and a means by which they could effectively contain Phantom even without the threat of keeping his family asleep.
Although, they could simply release Phantom’s family now. Avoid whatever Falsehood might otherwise do.
That felt like losing.
Nocturne didn’t like to lose.
There would be a way around it, of that Nocturne was sure. ‘Letting go’ could have so many wonderful meanings, after all. Who was to say it was Nocturne who turned to them? It might as well be considered one of Falsehood’s many tricks as one of Nocturne’s.
But that had to be left for later.
Phantom mumbled something at them that was so indistinct even they could not interpret it. They reached for Phantom's dreams and hesitated for the merest of moments.
Manipulating a human's dreams like this - the waking dreams, the sleepwalking, the sleeptalking, not to mention the content of the dreams themselves - could have lasting effects on that human. Permanent ones. Lifelong bouts of sleeptalking and sleepwalking, recurring dreams, night terrors, sleep paralysis, insomnia, narcolepsy. Who knew what it would do to a half ghost?
Who cared?
Old conventions were merely that. Never had they been codified into any laws, only loose systems of ethics followed by those now long gone. And even then, there had been situations where conventions had to be circumvented, or ignored entirely.
Perhaps Phantom would talk in his sleep for the rest of his unnatural life. Perhaps he would be beset by night terrors so hideous as to make his waking life seem paradisiacal. Perhaps his dreaming soul would leave his body every night to wander the Dream Wilds alone, tethered only by fragile silver cord. What did any of that matter in comparison to what stood to be gained?
What did it matter, when the ones who had established those old conventions, who had maintained those old traditions, were long gone, less even than dust on the wind?
Nocturne teased Phantom’s dreams into a closer connection with his voice. They were thick and rich, heavy, and becoming heavier. Falsehood’s token had done what it was meant to, and even after such a short time, Phantom’s light was strengthening. The colors around them were growing brighter, the distance they stretched before fading back into the Plains becoming greater, the complexity of the surrounding forms increasing, gaining layers.
Phantom turned towards Nocturne and… didn’t look at them. Not really.
Falsehood’s scales were no longer visible on Phantom’s face, having long since sunk into his skin, but his eyes were firmly closed and would remain so, unless he woke. Nocturne did not intend to allow Phantom to wake.
Despite that, Phantom most likely saw some of the features of their surroundings better than Nocturne themself. After all, he was the one dreaming them up.
“It’s so pretty,” said Phantom. His words were slightly lisped, making their childishness stand out even more. "It's pretty here."
“I suppose,” said Nocturne, rolling their eyes.
"So pretty," repeated Phantom, and Nocturne sighed. Of course it would be something inane, but, unfortunately, this type of dream manipulation wasn't something they could toggle on and off, so inanity it was.
"We are searching for the sister of Falsehood," said Nocturne instead. The child had likely forgotten already.
"Who's, hm, who's Falsehood? Funny name…"
"The serpent."
"Ohhhhhh. He has a sister? Do you have like… a thing for snakes?"
"The sister of Falsehood is Longing," said Nocturne. "Desire. And if she should take the form of a snake, it is because you made her so. Think on how to find her, and show me the path."
"Why?"
"We must collect her token to proceed on our path."
"No, I mean, why's she Falsehood’s sister, and not, like, truth or something?"
"There is no truth in dreams," said Nocturne.
Phantom made a soft noise, one that even Nocturne couldn't interpret. They glanced down at Phantom, then paused, their eyes drawn to where part of Phantom's tail had slipped free of the blankets Nocturne had wrapped around him.
While Falsehood's scales weren't visible on Phantom’s eyes, charcoal black and pale silver scales were starting to appear on his tail. Nocturne shifted the lantern to a better viewing angle. Not only did Phantom have scales, but those scales were glowing, and growing brighter, brighter.
Hah. A little glow worm. Or a glow snake. The light in their lantern.
Soon. Soon, Phantom would be able to show them the path they must take to Longing. They only had to be patient for a little while longer. They only had to want it for a little while longer.
.
Danny felt both very heavy and very light at the same time. He supposed the heaviness came from sleep, from the dreams all around them, from the blankets that were chains, and from whatever Nocturne had done to him, and the lightness must just be because he was in ghost form, but that didn’t quite feel like the correct answer.
The tip of his tail lashed back and forth restlessly. He didn't mean to form his tail, but sometimes it just happened. The tail, that is. When he was flying, and stuff like that.
It felt different, though. It felt… longer than usual, maybe? More… Maybe like he could feel more with it, somehow? There was a word for that, he thought. Tactile?
But he was supposed to be doing something. Something important. Helping. He liked helping. Helping was a good thing to do. Everyone said so. Today… tonight? Tonight, he was helping Nocturne.
He didn't like Nocturne very much. Nocturne had done some not nice things. But they seemed to be trying to be nicer today. Sometimes, people did try to be different. So. Danny was helping. He liked helping.
It was very pretty here. He was sure he'd told Nocturne this already, but just in case, he said it again.
Nocturne did something that superficially looked like rolling their eyes, but that Danny was sure indicated approval of Danny's observations. Deep down.
Movement in the trees caught Danny's attention, and he shifted slightly, tracking it. There were flashes of blue and orange. Familiar blue and orange and– feathers? No. Fabric. But– No. No, it couldn't be. Couldn't. There was a feeling, in the back of his mind, that he knew very well why it couldn't be, but he couldn't touch it. Not beyond his fear about what them being here meant.
“We're so proud of you, Danny.”
His whole body went stiff, tense, alert. He knew that voice, those voices, but how could they be here? He whipped his head around, frantic, trying to spot their source. The heaviness– he tried to throw it off, but couldn’t. It slowed his movement, keeping him from getting up and searching, and finding.
“You've done so much good. You've done so well.”
He whined. Too many trees, too many branches, too close together. He couldn't see.
“We're so glad you told us, so glad we can see you.”
This time, he caught sight of hazmat, and he lunged at the side of the cage, desperate to get even a little closer to his parents. But… his tail dragged strangely at the cloth all around him.
For a moment he paused, splayed out on his stomach, back arched by the curve of the pillows, one hand reaching up towards the bars even as he looked back over his shoulder at his tail. It was longer than usual, and less transparent. More solid, too. Almost more snak–
"Of course we love you, no matter what. You're our son."
He reached for the voices again, transformation forgotten. He wanted. He wanted so much that the want was practically a need. It was deep in his stomach, and he was starving for its lack.
“That way,” he begged Nocturne. “We need to go that way.”
Nocturne, surprisingly, followed his direction. Danny had been right, they were trying to be nicer today. They strode quickly through the trees, after Danny's parents. Soon. They would find them soon, and they would tell Danny they were proud of him, and that it didn't matter that Danny wasn't human anymore.
And– It wasn’t only his parents here.
“You did very well on the last test, Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Lancer, as he moved through the trees with surprising nimbleness and speed. “Keep up the good work, and there’s no reason you couldn’t become an astronaut.”
“See? I told you that you were just as smart as any of us, little brother,” said Jazz, her feathers as vibrant as their parents.
“You and Sam are the best friends I could have,” said Tucker, his hat oddly beak-like.
“I think I’m ready to come home,” said Dani. “For real, this time.”
“You’re not so bad after all, Phantom,” said Val. “I think… I’ll stop hunting.”
“You’re our hero, Danny,” said Amity Park, all together at once. “We’re all safe, and we will let you help us, and you will reach the stars, we’re sure of it.”
“You’ve changed the future,” said Clockwork.
“You don’t need to fight anymore,” said the ghosts. “Not if you don’t want to. Not if it isn’t fun.”
“Earth and the Infinite Realms are at peace at last,” said calm voices Danny could not identify. “Our heroes may turn their efforts to pursuits that will benefit all peoples, of all nations, everywhere. We may turn our eyes to the future, and the stars.”
Danny wanted it so much. He wanted it to be real, to be true. He thought that if they could only catch up…
For a moment, Danny thought they were back under Falsehood’s tree. Once again, he and Nocturne found themselves under the sweeping branches of a huge tree, but instead of ruby red apples hanging from the branches, there were brightly burnished birdcages, and inside them were dozens of birds. Dozens more birds perched on the branches, and Danny realized that these were what he had been hearing. His family, friends, teachers, classmates, and allies had never been there. Only the birds.
He held back a pathetic sob and let the blankets bind him again, herding him back into the center of the cage. He felt his tail clench back at the blankets and pillows in turn, and–
His thoughts derailed in shock. His tail was so long, weaving snakelike in and out of the pillows and blankets. It was at least twice, no, three times as long as the rest of his body. He could feel parts of it wrap around the bars of the cage below the great mounds of pillows.
It also glowed brilliantly, every scale roughly the color of the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling at home.
“Yes,” said Nocturne, “and it will be very helpful. Stop fretting.”
Danny looked up at them, hopefully, his heart and core again filled with that earlier, painful, want.
“Yes, but we are now in the court of Longing. Curtail your babbling.”
Danny hadn’t realized that he’d been babbling, but how else would Nocturne have known what he was thinking?
He let his eyes drift over the birds and the cages as Nocturne stalked forward. Was Longing one of the birds? And how did that work, if Longing and Falsehood were part of the same thing? He looked up as they passed beneath the boughs of the trees and gasped. In the gaps between the leaves, he could see stars. Stars– as they were seen in the best astrophotography. Stars, as if light pollution and smog did not exist. But then they were nearer the trunk, and the leaves were too thick to see anything but the tiniest of glimpses.
The floor of the clearing was covered in decorative pillows and brocade throws, and tapestry-like blankets hung between the cages. It felt… cozy. Like a sleepover, like a blanket fort. It made him want to snuggle in, and he did.
They came to a stop in front of the largest and most beautiful of the cages. Inside it was a small, drab bird.
“Lady Longing,” said Nocturne. “I greet you, and give you the regards of your brother-self, Falsehood.”
.
“I greet you as well, child of dreams,” said Longing, softly.
Nocturne suppressed their frown. It was difficult. Even a ghost like themself was still a ghost, and therefore, fueled by intangibles like emotions. Hiding what they were feeling came naturally only to a few.
But why that voice?
“What price must be paid to receive your token?”
Longing fluttered her wings. “I wish that you would not do this, child.”
“And I wish that you would not take that voice,” said Nocturne, not bothering to suppress his sneer. “What is the price for your token?”
Longing fluffed her feathers, then smoothed them back down, movements agitated. “Oh, I wish you would not do this, I wish you would not. Not all things one desires are meant to be.”
What hypocrisy from the one who wore the very face of yearning, who spoke with that desire. They knew some things were not and could not be, not outside of dreams. But their current goal was not one of those things. They would succeed.
“I ask a third time: What price do you demand for your token?”
“Three things are wanted by all: one that is lost when it is given, one that increases when it is given, and one that cannot be taken, only given. These things I desire. These things I require. These things I must be given, if you are to receive my token for which you long.”
“All from the boy, I presume?”
“As if you could give me any one of those things,” said Longing, haughtily.
“A secret,” said Nocturne. “Then knowledge, perhaps. Or faith, or trust, or a thousand things besides. There are very few things that cannot be taken. Dignity, perhaps. Trust again. Does it matter which one you receive?”
“Only that they fulfill my conditions.”
“Well, then, go ahead,” said Nocturne, looking down at Phantom. “You must–”
“What happened to my tail?”
It had taken the boy long enough to notice, and longer still to react. Nocturne wondered how long he’d been staring pointlessly at his own scales.
“What– What happened to my legs? Why can’t I turn them back?”
“Child,” said Nocturne.
“No, where– What? What’s happening?”
“We must have Longing’s token to move on,” said Nocturne, trying to soothe Phantom’s dream again.
“I’m not doing anything without knowing what’s going on!”
Typical. Nocturne had thought this might go smoothly for once. Just once. Hadn’t they already worked enough, suffered enough?
“It is what’s necessary to reveal our path. Haven’t I already promised to let you go when we are done here? When we complete our quest? Give her what she has asked for, so she will let us go on, and so you can go on.”
Phantom looked up at him through the bars of the cage, a faint scowl on his face. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to give her.”
The boy could hardly be expected to pay close attention, as dream-soaked as he was, but still. Nocturne had just said what he could give Longing. “I can repeat my list–”
“No, no, no, I know what you said, I know what you said.” He fell to muttering, even Nocturne’s earlier encouragement not enough to clarify his words. “I know what you said, but you can’t just give people dignity or– or whatever the other things are.” He sniffled. “I’m in a– I don’t even have things to give.” He grabbed two handfuls of blankets and waved them around.
“I’m sure you have secrets,” said Nocturne. They were so close, close enough for them to taste it on the air, and they would not allow Phantom’s reluctance to stop them. “Don’t you want to help? Is that not what you want?” Phantom should be biddable, under the carefully crafted influence of their dream. He should want to help Nocturne. That was the point.
Phantom ran his hands back and forth over a section of his tail and sucked in his lips. “Don’t– I don’t know. I don't know. I can help?”
Nocturne smiled down at him. Finally. Although the way his sentences were falling apart was not ideal, given the riddle-like nature of Longing’s demand. They should take care to keep Phantom from spiraling further into sleep.
“Yes,” said Nocturne. “You can help. By giving Longing what she wants. Well. What she has asked for in this case.”
Longing turned her beak up in the air. It was ridiculous. Nocturne knew very well that she was the most powerful part of dreams, the greatest of the Beasts. Desire could hold a dreamer better than little else. Fear could not keep one nearly so well, and lies could backfire. It was desire that he used to keep people in his dreams when he needed to. Yet, this aspect of dreams chose to act like a silly little bird.
“Well, you have refused to give me what I really want, which I can hardly help,” said Longing.
Ridiculous. What she really wanted. As if she didn’t want everything.
“I guess,” said Phantom, grudgingly, “I guess I could tell you a secret.”
Longing tittered, then leapt from her perch, slipping between the bars of her cage and coming to rest on Phantom’s shoulder. “Whisper it to me, my dear. Don’t worry, you can trust me.”
The boy sniffed, then lifted a hand to pet her. “Trust is something that can’t be taken, only given, right?”
Longing whistled a few bars of music. Phantom looked up at Nocturne out of the corner of his eye, then turned away and covered his mouth to whisper to Longing. Whatever he said, it took only a moment.
“Very good, very good. Only the one more. Unless, of course, you think you can convince this brute to listen to the wisdom of his elders and let this go. We do not deal much with time in dreams, but too much time has passed for him to chase this so ardently, and I say this as the yearning of dreams themselves. What he wants he will not find.”
“You say it as a hypocrite,” said Nocturne, finally annoyed enough to voice their earlier thoughts. “The third thing is something that increases as it is given.”
“I could tell you about the stars,” said Phantom. “That’s knowledge.”
“I have seen more dreams of the stars than you have days in your life, little bird.”
“You’re a little bird,” said Phantom.
“So I am, but so are you.” She rearranged herself and tilted her head towards Nocturne. “That one is a very big bird.”
Phantom had the temerity to laugh. It was a little twittering, chirping thing, and Nocturne was disgusted to find that they agreed with Longing’s comparison of Phantom to a bird.
A caged bird.
“Isn’t knowledge… Isn’t a secret a kind of knowledge.”
“And yet a secret is only one thing.”
“Maybe, maybe we could…” Phantom swayed slightly. “Maybe we could be friends? Friendship is good. And we can gang up on Nocturne and make them…” The boy trailed off as Nocturne smothered any thoughts of acting against them. “Um.”
“We could certainly gang up on Nocturne. They are a wonderful target.”
“Please,” said Nocturne.
Longing looked at them through the bars of the cage, and Nocturne froze, ectoplasm cold and stiff. When the Beasts of Dream were playful and petty, or when they were bound by old laws, it was easy to forget what they were, underneath, even when you very well knew.
So, too, it was difficult to unlearn the habits of power. Nocturne was used to being the one with power in dreams.
And still…
They sniffed, trying to recover. “Could you even accept an offer of friendship, for him to truly give it to you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” asked Longing.
“Would you want to?”
“Why are you arguing about this?” asked Phantom. “Don’t you want me to, um. To get. Um. The thing.”
“The token,” prompted Longing.
“Yeah, the token. Are you dumb?”
“If your offer of friendship was sufficient, then you would already have the token.”
“Are you so sure of that?” asked Longing. “Perhaps I was merely having a little fun. Are you certain you want to offer your friendship to me, child?”
Phantom nodded. “I like having friends,” he said, comically serious.
“Then, little friend, do you see anything you would want to take away from my clearing here?”
Phantom tilted his head. “Is it a trick question? Like, a riddle.”
“Don’t overthink things,” said Longing.
“Could I take your cage?”
“A fine sentiment, but no,” said Longing.
“Could I take you?”
“I am not a thing, child.”
“Then it’s really just a question?” asked Phantom.
“This is going nowhere,” said Nocturne. If fear of Longing’s displeasure could keep them from pressing onward, then they wouldn’t be here in the first place. “She is not giving you her token, so your offering is unacceptable. Give her something else.”
“Come now, big bird,” said Longing, as Phantom started giggling again, “a new friendship is a momentous occasion. I am allowed to take my time.”
“Not if you are stalling.”
“Um,” said Phantom. “I’d like… a pillow?”
“Very good,” said Longing.
One of the other birds dove from their perch and picked up a pillow in their talons before bringing it to the cage. Phantom picked it up and tucked it under his chin.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Yes,” said Longing, “well. I am sorry for this next part, then.”
“Hm?” said Phantom, fuzzily.
“It is an unfortunate truth that, sometimes, it hurts to want something.”
Phantom frowned. “I know that, I–”
Longing moved. She pulled a single silver feather from her wing, and held it aloft in her beak.
All at once, the rest of her flock took flight, swarming the lantern-cage and diving between its bars.
A ruby-red bird built like something between an eagle and a peacock perched on Phantom’s left shoulder. On his right shoulder, a cerulean owl with sparkling, faceted talons touched down. Then, they slashed down, tearing through Phantom’s thin pajama top and carving bloody furrows into his back. He shrieked, and squeezed the pillow in his hands so hard it burst, spilling soft feathers across the cage.
Nocturne hissed, and struggled to keep the boy under. Pain did not always wake a person. Indeed, smaller pains or chronic pains were often incorporated into dreams. But this wasn’t small, ignorable pain or old, steady pain. This was new pain, hot and bright and very present. This was the kind of pain that broke dreams. Beings that naturally slept through this kind of pain did not tend to survive.
But if Phantom woke now, Nocturne may very well have to start again, and that would be unacceptable. No, he would stay here, caught between dreams and reality. Nocturne would make sure of it.
.
At first, Danny didn’t notice that the birds were building him wings from the ruin of his back. All he had the presence of mind for was the pain and the sense of being pushed underwater until he started to drown.
But Danny wasn’t exactly a stranger to pain, and paying attention was frequently the key to escaping it. So he noticed how the birds flew, how they circled, how they pulled feathers from their own wings or from his new-and-now-ruined pillow with their beaks before stabbing them into his back, or whatever it was that built his nerves and flesh out and out and out into ever-more-fantastical shapes.
He noticed when one of the birds, the bird, Longing, jumped onto his shoulder.
“I see my brother-self has given you an extra gift.”
Danny didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Tell me, little friend, do you want a way out?”
“Out of what?” whispered Danny. From the way things had been going, he thought it best to be specific. Otherwise, he might wind up with something he didn’t want at all. Like these wings.
“This cage, the bargain you struck with Nocturne, this dream.”
Trust. Friendship. Those were supposed to be reciprocated. Cautiously, Danny nodded.
“Then I will give you a gift, also, little friend, though my gifts cannot be touched so easily. It is the nature of Longing, for things to be out of reach.” She hopped to his other shoulder. “Let my gift be wisdom. Let my gift be a gift of memory.”
She hopped down, in front of him, and among the twisted blankets, Danny saw the red, shining curve of Falsehood’s apple. The bird jumped up on the apple, perching on the leafy stem, then lifted her head, and began to sing. The song was long, and high, and mournful, full of yearning and desires unfulfilled. Despite the birds flying all around them, and the pain of his growing wings, in the spell of Longing’s song, everything felt still and calm. As it sang, a single tear fell from her eye and onto the skin of the apple, where it disappeared, either sinking in or evaporating.
“When you, too, cry from wanting, remember this.”
And Danny was lost again, among the wings of the birds. But not for long. With Longing back in her cage, the other birds left quickly, settling back among the branches of the trees.
“Was that truly necessary?” asked Nocturne.
“Need is immaterial. Want is the important thing here.”
Nocturne curled their lips. “And I suppose you want me to fail badly enough to try and wake my dreamer?”
Longing adjusted her wings minutely. “What was wanted for his wings,” she said, nodding towards Danny.
Thus prompted, Danny looked at his wings. The leading edge and most of their body was black as night, with flecks like glowing silver stars, but the long, trailing feathers were a pure, softly glowing white, like the tails of comets. He moved slowly, feeling the weight of them.
Nocturne poked at the pillows, arranging them to better support and display Danny’s wings. Danny guessed the second part was important for the whole lantern thing… Lanterns were supposed to glow. He was being helpful, like this, surely. Glowing, guiding, fulfilling his role…
He groaned as Nocturne pulled at one of his wings, spreading it out far enough to brush the bars of the lantern-cage. Then, when it seemed as if Nocturne was done rearranging him, he let his head rest on the pillow in front of him. Everything seemed so heavy, now, and the not-quite-metaphor of the blankets-that-were-chains was coming back to him, and their soft iron links were weighing him down.
He was so tired, all of a sudden. Or maybe not all of a sudden. A lot had happened, even if he himself wasn’t doing all that much. But something pulled him back to a state of relative awareness.
“I will not be delayed like this,” growled Nocturne. “No more. Do not forget that I, too, am a master of dreams.”
Danny hummed. Not being delayed sounded good. Leaving problems alone could make them bigger problems, and there was definitely a problem. One he was helping Nocturne with. Yes. That was what he was doing. Yes.
He sighed and shifted. If he didn’t think about it too hard, the wings felt more like a large blanket than something actually connected to him.
“I can see that,” said Longing. She hopped sideways on her perch. “My token is not like my brother’s. It will neither give you sight, nor take it. But all who have wings must desire to fly, as those who have eyes must wish to see, and those who have voices must desire to sing… even if only the once. This, therefore, is a token of memory and imagination as much as it is of myself.”
“Okay…?” said Danny. He didn’t particularly feel like using these wings now, he was too tired, and when he woke up, they’d be gone, wouldn’t they?
… There was something strange about that thought.
Flying would probably be nice, though, wouldn’t it? Well, yes, of course it was nice. He flew all the time. He… Hm.
Hmmm.
He yawned and turned his head over. It was the next best thing to rolling over.
“You will understand in time,” said Longing. She sounded awfully sure of that.
“He does not need to understand,” said Nocturne.
“I’d like to, though,” said Danny. Sometimes you didn’t need to understand things. Sometimes just experiencing was enough. But it wasn’t for nothing that Danny was the son of two scientists and an aspiring astronaut. He wanted more. “What am I supposed to–” He yawned again. “What am I supposed to understand?”
“The path. Which way does it lead?” Nocturne raised the lantern high, casting the clearing in pearly light.
Danny gazed down, through the twisting trees. “What are we trying to find this time?” He was tired. He wanted to go home.
“You will not want to find them,” said Longing. “And here, you need not do what you do not want.”
“We seek Fear. The third of the Beasts of Dream, whose token we need to complete your light.”
Fear. Longing had been right. He didn’t want to find Fear. Maybe, as a ghost, that was strange for him to say, but he didn’t like experiencing fear, and he definitely didn’t like causing it.
He surveyed the paths out of the clearing. It was quite obvious which one belonged to Fear. The other paths all seemed to call to him at various levels, but this one made his feathers stand on end and his skin crawl. It made his mouth taste dry and chalky. Even his scales felt itchy. His heart seemed to beat faster in his chest as he contemplated following it.
It didn’t look all that remarkable. It looked like nothing more than an old deer trail, narrow and shrubby, heavily shadowed by the trees around it. Without the extra light from his new feathers, Danny would have missed it.
“You may take any path you want, of course,” said Longing. “Not merely the one you are told you should take. Desires are not so easily dictated.”
She spread her wings, and Danny couldn’t help but look around again. The other paths did seem much more inviting. They reached out to him, tempting him, scents of things he did want wafting to him across the air, whispering of their destinations. Places he could fly, places he could play, places he could learn, places he could escape… If he could lead Nocturne down one of those paths… it would be much more pleasant for both of them…
“We are taking the path to Fear,” said Nocturne, confidently. “Unless you do not wish to help your family.”
Yes, that, too, was fear. Breathing was suddenly very difficult, as if there were a great weight on his chest.
Wasn’t there something about that, about a weight on your chest, and nightmares?
“That way,” Danny said, pointing at the proper, narrow path.
Longing sighed. “And so it always was, that the greatest ills come from people not being honest about their heart’s desires.”
Nocturne scoffed. “You are as much a liar as your ‘brother.’” They didn’t move on, though. They seemed to be waiting for something.
Longing shifted. “Deliver my regards to my sibling, if you catch them.”
With a nod, Nocturne stepped forward, onto the path of Fear.
“Goodbye, little friend,” called Longing from behind them, voice sweet. “May we meet again!”
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Speaking about chapter 133…
Since it has been a long time since I made long posts and these kind of chapters that focus on other characters, much less girls, much less Mitsuba, are rare, I felt like talking about it🤧
First of all: Screw this title and the boob joke.
Now, somehow I liked this chapter? It is the first time ever since chapter 17 that we see Shinoa and Mitsuba talking to each other about themselves. Although in small quantities, many of the things I wanted to see happened: Mitsuba addressing Shinoa’s change in behaviour, them talking about their sisters, how similar they are but also have their differences, their reasons to live, their relationship, the squad leader role and how Shinoa does not talk much about herself.
We didn’t learn anything new except for Mitsuba not necessarily seeking her family’s validation and Shinoa being able to control demons.
About the former, I am actually happy that Mitsuba is not necessarily seeking Aoi’s validation because someone like Aoi does not deserve that effort. But I am bit sad that after the things Aoi said to her in chapter 70, we didn’t get more than this. It does not have to be now but I hope eventually we get some flashbacks about the Sangū sisters’ past to explain why Aoi treats her like this.
What worries me more is that we already know Mitsuba’s reason to live so does that mean I will never get to see her demon? I mean, it’s those scenes where characters talk with their demons in that white world in their minds where we get to know more about them but Mitsuba already opened up a lot in the real world. At this point of the manga I am not expecting anything about Mitsuba’s character in the long run; it’s just that I want to see how her demon looks like (Also, 2024 is the year of the dragon so why not?🐉)
I’ve seen that the fandom is divided between those who took it literally and think the girls are seriously competing for Yuu’s love and those who think they were just joking to lighten up the mood. I am with the latter. The vibes their conversation gave me were lighthearted. Mitsuba has a crush on Yuu but she never made a move on him and it doesn’t seem like she ever planned to because her feelings are probably not that strong. Knowing how Kagami writes women he could have made this chapter much worse but “No comment” is all that we got. In all honesty, she seems more worried about Shinoa being depressed than Yuu leaving them. She even says it: “Will that be the first real reason to live you’ve ever found?”, and also blushes before deciding to participate in the ‘competition’ as if she is embarassed because all of this feels just too stupid but she still does it because it lightens Shinoa’s mood. Shinoa also does not take her seriously either. I am not saying my take is correct since the only one who truly knows what is going on is Kagami but I still strongly believe this.
Just like Yuu and Mika, the Shinoa squad finally decided to separate from Guren and become their own team (but I wonder where is Guren?). Shinoa being able to control demons gives them a strong card just like how the vampires’ team is really strong, Guren and Mahiru rely on experiments, and Yuu has Mika as his demon and the knowledge that they are swapped. Now that she is all motivated, could her powers be able to control Mika? I want to see Kimizuki, Yoichi and Mitsuba in action too (I am tired of katana fights). I am happy to see the squad after one year and I hope the next chapter follows with them again or the vampires that are not with Mika and Yuu.
This is like a competition on who makes Shikama more miserable💀 I understand where Shinoa is coming from since she can finally make Shikama pay back a bit for how much he ruined her life but at the same she looks so insane that she reminds me so much of Yuu and about how tired I am that Kagami is drawing so many parallels between characters that the individualities they had are being lost😞
The big question here is what this chapter means in the long run? Was it just to give have some funny scenes or is the chapter setting up something for Shinoa? Shinoa is aware Yuu rejected her and yet still tries. Her brain tells her it’s impossible but her heart says otherwise:
The way her feelings are delivered and the way Yamamoto draws her makes me interpret it as Kagami’s way of conveying how a sexist education can affect a girl’s mind (if I choose to believe in his writing decisions, that is). Again, Shinoa knows she is rejected yet still tries. This contradiction can be seen again when Shinoa tells Mitsuba that she loves her a lot but since she does not value her own life at all so she does not need Mitsuba or anyone’s validation because it would not change a thing…but still she craves Yuu’s validation. It’s irrational and powerful, showing how much the brainwashing got into her.
Will it take more for Shinoa to stop needing Yuu’s validation? What will it take? Yuu rejecting her more directly? Yuu trying to kill her after she tries to kill Mika? Will it be someone else’s intervention? Is this tied to how Mitsuba needs someone’s validation but it does not have to be her blood related family? Is the manga leading to a point where Mitsuba might help Shinoa break out of her brainwashing and in turn Mitsuba will find validation though Shinoa and altogether the girls stop crushing over Yuu?
I hope so because the way the chapter is written has that feeling in the air that Mitsuba actually likes Shinoa romantically. Yuu does not love Shinoa or her back yet Kagami instead writes about Mitsuba focusing on Shinoa and not Mitsuba being sad that Yuu does not like her back. The way she tries to cheer Shinoa up and how she kept talking with Shinoa about embarassing things despite knowing Kimizuki and Yoichi might overhear them because she was happy that Shinoa was finally opening up to her…hmm
Also, the “I love you lots and lots”??
These past two years Kagami has been especially explicit with Mika and Yuu’s feelings for each other, more than in the rest of the manga, so maybe he will get more bold as a writer when it comes to the girls’ relationship? Who knows…
Could this actually be a joke-turned-into foreshadowing?
I felt like this chapter was a bit better than previous ones and I am happy that their friendship got a bit more focus. However, I don’t expect that writing about them after almost 10 years of barely any focus will dramatically improve the development and depth of their friendship. A flashback about their past together before the squad was made could help on setting the bases for why they are close but there is still that big gap between chapters 17 and 133.
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Headcanons on the Spectres vs. Kalluzeb:
Out of the Spectres the only one who realised that Zeb had a crush on Agent Kallus before the latter physically joined the Rebellion was Hera, who suspected Zeb to have developed feelings for the Imperial from the moment he returned from Bahryn.
Sabine was the second to ship them, although not necessarily because she saw Zeb's feelings; more because she thought it was a hilarious concept. She'd make innocent comments and jokes over Zeb's 'lover' whenever they encountered Kallus in the field or got a Fulcrum transmission, to which Zeb would usually retaliate by mentioning either Ketsu or Lando.
She realised Zeb actually had feelings for Kallus shortly after the agent joined them on Yavin 4, not long after Zeb realised it himself. Kanan was told pretty early on by Hera, and Chopper overheard them talking about it. Ezra was the last to find out, and from that moment on Zeb didn't have a second of quiet anymore.
Because she had already been on the alert for it, Hera was also the first to understand that Kallus had feelings for Zeb as well. Other than Zeb and Kanan, she looked through his Imperial repression and realised that, while certainly a part of it, it wasn't all him simply holding onto the person who caused him to leave his entire former life behind.
Kanan sensed that Kallus felt a deep attachment to Zeb, but he was less clear on the exact nature of his feelings; after nearly twenty years with the Empire, Kallus had become a master at repressing his emotions, and while he learned to open up to them again in the Rebellion, they were very jumbled and all over the place and hard to make sense of.
Similar to Kanan, Ezra senses Kallus's fondness of Zeb, and Sabine simply sees it, but neither of them actually realised that it was more than close friendship for a long time, at least partly because they found it hard to imagine Kallus having such feelings. They expected them to become friends with benefits at some point, and perhaps move on to lovers from there.
Chopper advocated for a long time to have Kallus, whom he liked a lot, replace Zeb as part of the Ghost crew. Kallus's reaction when he overheard this was enough to make Chopper join Hera in thinking their feelings were mutual.
Other than Kallus thinks, none of the Spectres actually have a problem with him becoming part of their family through Zeb, though it takes them a while to get used to Zeb being besties with and making heart eyes at his former sworn nemesis. Sabine does threaten Kallus, promising that if he ever hurts Zeb in whatever way he’ll be in a world of pain. He takes this seriously, even if it was only half meant to be.
Hera often arranges for Zeb and Kallus to join her and Kanan for meals or leisure time (either by ‘coincidentally’ running into each other or by outright telling Zeb to take Kallus along). None of the others know that these are meant to be double dates, though Zeb has his suspicions.
#jenny’s headcanons#star wars#star wars rebels#kalluzeb#garazeb orrelios#alexsandr kallus#kanan jarrus#sabine wren#ezra bridger#kanera#hera syndulla#chopper#ketsu onyo#lando calrissian
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I think your comparisons of Ximang to Hualian/Wangxian are so interesting. When I first started reading 2ha, I felt like it was a much grimmer take svss (mostly bc I didn’t realize how big of a genre uh…”shizun-fucking” was at the time) so much that I felt like svsss and 2ha were two works in conversation with each other. Each felt like a parody of the other. Yuwu also reminded of Wangxian. Gu Mang and Wei Wuxian have many similarities. Their mischievous and laid back natures, their impressive genius, their lower-class status (although wwx doesn’t face discrimination on the scale that Gu Mang does), and obviously their eventual fall from grace. Mo Xi actually feels like a mixture of Lan Wangi and Jiang Cheng to me. He posses that cold countenance but also that terrible temper. His regret that he didn’t stay by Gu Mang’s when he was suffering but also his intense hatred at his betrayal. All this is to say, at times meatbun’s novels feel much more realistic and tragic compared to mxtx’s but they often share similar themes and it’s interesting how their two of the most popular danmei authors (at least in the western fandom). I never thought comparing Ximang to Hualian though, and it’s very interesting. Compared to Mo Xi and Lan Wangi, Hua Cheng is less concerned with certain societal and moral viewpoints, so he’s able to devote himself to Xie Lian entirely not matter what path Xie Lian walks. Obviously, the fact that they didn’t support the one they love in their time of need is something that Mo Xi and Lan Wangi both regret later on…but I think that Mo Xi and Lan Wangi’s upper class status compared to Hua Cheng’s lower class status plays a role in how they react to their beloved, for lack of a better term, going ape-shit.
Hi! :) Thank you for sharing you thoughts, and you certainly formed some interesting connections between novels and characters that I never thought of. It never occurred to me to compare 2ha with svsss because of their entirely different tones, like the former is all about shoving the depth and magnitude of the sufferings in your face while the latter is about hiding the tears and blood with irreverent humour.
As for Mo Xi, I keep thinking about him in comparison with Chu Wanning - not least because they both have a temper, and that's because they don't know how to express their emotions so every emotion comes out in the form of anger. But Chu Wanning has led a much more sheltered life than Mo Xi because of his extraordinary talent, which secured for him an untouchable position in the cultivation sect so he can just focus on his geeky inventions. Whereas Mo Xi had to fight through his family's downfall, start from the bottom, and survive the cut-throat palace intrigues etc.
The comparison between Ximang and Hualian that anon mentioned refers to this post I wrote - and I agree that with the romance side of things, meatbun's couples feel more realistic and tragic compared to mxtx’s. I think mxtx's strength is in exploring broader moral questions and philosophical themes, and she could do it in a natural, nuanced, and engaging way. Meatbun's attempts in this regard feels somewhat forced and meagre in comparison.
#kind of hope this post will interest more people to read Yuwu?becasue it's underrated and as anon said you'd find many parallels with mxtx#yuwu#remnants of filth#tgcf#svsss#mdzs#2ha
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Jk's DAZED Interview
"Jung Kook holds the instinctual and the intangible in high regard: the former is what guides his present, but his future is cradled by the latter, at least in terms of how he sees himself as an artist. But more on that later, because Jung Kook – who recently turned 26 and has been very, very famous for a decade – is thinking about who he is at this very moment. “I think I’m the type of person who is honest with their emotions,” he says. “I change quickly. I have to do the things I want to do right now.”
He was quiet then, too, though he emanated a fidgety restlessness, mentally and physically. He still has an inner itch that he can’t quite seem to scratch but it’s tempered by a new boldness and self-assuredness that he feels was missing before, traits he’s long embodied on stage yet didn’t follow him into everyday life. “When I go on stage, my wandering thoughts and feelings die down,” he says, and he’s always performed so much that the gap between his worlds didn’t seem all that vast.
“Ever since I changed my perspective, I’ve found more positive traits within myself. Rather than dwelling on missed opportunities and blaming myself for being lazy, thinking, ‘Why couldn’t I do it when I was capable?’, I accept who I truly am and focus on what I can do. There’s more to gain from doing things at my own pace. And if I want to stay in bed or watch TV all day, why not spend a day like that?”
Jung Kook debuted aged 15, and although pop culture is generally unkind to its child stars, he grew up under the watchful eyes of his bandmates who pulled him into line when needed. He is attentive, unfailingly polite, curious and wields a mischievous humour.
When recording “Seven” with writers/producers Andrew Watt and Cirkut, he was eager to do well with a genre he’d never tried before, visibly nervous at the mic and, just as evidently, chuffed when they showered him with praise.
“I want to do as many genres as possible to test myself on what kind of music I can do with my voice,” he says. The success of his debut solo single, he adds, has no bearing on what his upcoming music sounds like. “When I hear the music and it’s good, I just proceed with it regardless of the genre. It feels really good to hear people say, ‘Oh, he can pull off any genre,’ so it’d be really fun to surprise people.”
“I live thinking ‘The main character of my life is no one but me.’ No matter what environment I’m placed in, no matter who’s around me, to safeguard myself without being swept away, having the mindset that I can hold control of myself. I live trying not to forget it.”
Jung Kook, the youngest member of BTS, knows his original bunny-ish, baby-of-the-group image still prevails. “You really like that about me,” he said to fans while in London, during one of his now-frequent livestreams. “Pretend that people like that. And I only follow that. What is something that I can change? Myself, it’s my life. I need to change. I need to tell people who love me, ‘I am like this.’ I’m not forcing anyone. I always look for something new. I want to make that new thing fun. And I want to be accepted by Army at the same time.” He also addressed those questioning why he felt the need for an explicit version of “Seven”, in which the line “And that’s why night after night, I’ll be lovin’ you right” becomes “And that’s why night after night, I’ll be fuckin’ you right”. “If you felt [it] like that,” he said, “there’s nothing I can do... And if you think about it, how old am I?”
In recent years he has taken up boxing, pierced his eyebrow and lip, and added more hardware to his ears. He’s grown out his hair, and got heavily inked. “I like extreme things,” he says with a laugh. “People always tell me I look round and soft. I want this sharp, powerful image.” His debut single, Jung Kook says, “wasn’t [me] trying to break away from my image”. In his eyes, the evolution has already occurred, making “Seven” a direct reflection of who he is now. And so he was steadfast and frank during that pivotal livestream. “It was important for me to show how much I’ve grown as a solo artist through taking on new challenges,” Jung Kook explains, “rather than staying in my comfort zone or settling for the things that I was used to. I wanted to fully explain that to my fans.”
In Jung Kook’s mind, then and now, ‘more’ translates as “becoming a better and cooler singer”, he says intently. “To me, I’m not that singer I imagined myself [to be], that specific image that I had of a singer, that’s why I’m aiming higher.”
The Jung Kook of 2023 is OK with the not quite knowing-ness of that. He tries to live in the present and keep things simple, even if that’s easier said than done. “It’s impossible to not think at all,” he sighs. “You know when you think of something and it just goes on and on, down this deep rabbit hole? That can lead to positive conclusions but, for me, sometimes it led to negative ones. But now that I’ve gained some self-confidence, I’m more able to exclude those unnecessary thoughts.” In teaching himself how to quieten down his brain, he finds himself “worrying [less] about things that haven’t happened yet or thinking, ‘What if I don’t meet my own expectations?’”
But, with the power of hindsight, Jung Kook, who is working on more music with an eye towards a debut solo album, knows how far he’s come. “I trusted my gut [with my debut single] and thought, ‘Will I be able to reach the audience, and a lot of them?’ And I sort of proved that I could.” And rather than being that ambiguous grey hexagon, Jung Kook – who smiles, the widest smile his face is capable of – says, “I’d be white, and I can colour it in whatever colour I like.”"
My impressions
This interview is a confirmation to the discourse we've been having lately.
Jk lives his life in phases. He changes quickly according to his vibes on the situation and let's himself be guided by things that he cannot see.
At this point, he is revealing what he had kept from fans. Things that he already did but weren't public. I suspect it's because of where he is in life at the moment (BTS hiatus, solo career, about to enlist, just turned 26).
Perhaps, his vibes told him it's time.
Jk's words seem contradictory but a person isn't just one truth. We all have many.
And for years, Jk has been squished into a box with labels and cute nicknames. We've only seen one side of him constantly because that's what we were shown.
In the interview, they describe him as introverted but then he comes out without a shirt for the photoshoot. He wants to be extreme but he also has that one pose in the photos that scream "zero hetero here". We read about him wanting to be sharp while he just did a cute jump at the airport. I guess Jk hasn't realized that he can be all those things at the same time. I think he will realize it with time.
What stands out to me is that he wants to break free from these labels and image that the fans have of him, but he's the one labeling himself new things. Maybe he does it to get his point across? Or maybe he think that by reiterating these new things he's shown us, we will let go of the old things? In this fandom?....hmmm.
Although Jk is very much a person who enjoys being a softie, he is also someone extreme and free who wishes to do as he pleases...because everyone should he allowed to do so. Without policing.
He says there isn't a big difference between the Jk on stage and Jk off stage, which is why he was comfortable with Seven. Not because he is the het macho guy, but because he is bolder and more confident. That song is more upbeat, sex oriented, and energetic than anything he's done in the past. So all those people thinking he just said he is straight...read carefully.
I find it amusing how this article comes out just right after everyone made such a big deal out of him smoking because he states "I am like this (at this moment)." He wants to be accepted by army being "like this" but there is no way that will happen because this is a fandom that believes they have ownership of the members and have become some sort of morality police and parent entity.
I'm sure he knows of the things that were said during the smoking pictures and Seven.
Jk was harshly critiqued for saying he wanted to be better and cooler a while back and many wondered if Seven (Scooter) had gotten to his head. But I think this article shows that he's just aiming higher...like any artist does. He still comes across as someone humble and genuine. Although, he was still genuine during those other interviews where he said he wanted to be the "one and only".
It's all about your perception of his words.
Overall, I think that Jk is still searching for his true self, as one does during that age. But based on this interview, which is probably one of the better interviews he's had, old Jk is still there...but now, we have new side of him to observe. With time, we will see if this is truly what he wants or he will move on to something else.
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Monster at the Swimming Pool (Asmodeus x M!MC)
Asmodeus x Male Reader, Poly!MC (implied)
BL content
Warning. Pervert at the swimming pool. Reader doesn’t have high opinion on their beauty, although others beg to differ. Murder. Suggestive.
Not completely proofread.
It was a hot day. Very hot. Eating ice-cream didn’t help much. People who had private swimming pools already plunged themselves in the cool water in their yards. People who had no such luxury, like you, either suffered at home or went to a public swimming pool. You chose the latter after having enough of the former.
Because there were a lot of people at swimming pool during these times, they were suffering from the same heat as you after all, you decided to go to the public swimming pool at the time when you knew there would be less people than peak hours.
You felt like a fish that had just been released back into the water the moment you dipped yourself into the water of the swimming pool. After having adjusted to the water, you began to practice swimming and breathing underwater like how Levi had taught you. Needless to say, your pact with the third born helped a lot, you felt like you were in your natural habitat.
But then you felt a piercing gaze looking at you. You stopped what you were doing and looked across the pool where you saw a man staring at you. He looked away when he realized you were looking back.
Maybe he was staring at my pact marks. You regretted not bringing a swimming suit with you and you had nothing to cover yourself with, except your swimming trunks. After all, these marks looked like extremely weird tattoos to a lot of people.
Looking at the pact marks on your body and noting to yourself to bring a swimming suit next time made you remember what Lucifer once told you.
“Lucifer, we’re at the beach, don’t you think you should wear something more, you know, revealing?” You asked the eldest.
“Covering beauty makes it mysterious and people wonder what’s underneath, don’t you think?” Pride answered. “Plus, some perverts won’t have the pleasure to peep at your beautiful body.”
“Well, I don’t think I need that. After all, I don’t have a body that’s on par with a model or something.”
“That’s something we all beg to differ, MC.”
Nah, it couldn’t be. The man was just looking at the pact marks because they thought the tattoos were weird. That’s all. You dismissed the issue and assumed enjoying your time in the water.
However, just after a few minutes, you felt the man staring at you again. When you looked at him, he averted his eyes. It happened again and again, until you were quite sure that man wasn’t just being curious about the “tattoos” on your body.
You didn’t feel comfortable to stay in the water any longer, so you left the pool, grabbed your things and headed to the shower. Fortunately, this pool had shower rooms with lockable doors.
As you closed the door to the shower room you had entered, however, you saw the man entering the shower area. He clearly didn’t have any intention to take a shower. And there was no one else inside the shower area.
Shit, what do I do now? You tried to calm yourself after locking the door and turning on the shower, pretending to enjoy the shower water.
You could hear the footsteps of the man. They were coming closer…closer…until they stopped right in front of your shower room. You couldn’t see the man but you had the feeling he was peeping through the crack between the door and the wall. You became panic as you didn’t know what to do to get out of this unharmed.
“MC, can you hear me?” You heard a familiar voice as the Lust mark shone a rose color.
“Asmo?”
“Yes, and I know the problem you are facing.” Hearing those words, you felt relief as if the problem had already been solved.
“How?”
“I’m the Avatar of Lust, MC. I reign over all those creeps, despite the fact that I don’t like them very much.” Asmo’s voice was like a whisper by your ear. “Do you need my help to get out of this predicament?”
“Yes.” You answered without hesitation.
“Alright, then summon me, dear.”
“Hear me, denizens of darkness,” you whispered, “you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it. Hear me and do as I command! I, MC, call upon you to send forth one of your number! I summon the Avatar of Lust, Asmodeus!”
The creep who was peeping through the crack suddenly couldn’t see anything in the room shower room anymore, everything was covered in darkness.
Suddenly just as when the darkness covered the room, the door yanked opened. And in front of the creep was not a human, but a humanoid beast with a very long scorpion tail.
Ten minutes later, another man went into the male shower area and the scene inside made him call the police. People ran to the scene and they found a dead man lying on the floor of the shower area. After an autopsy, the police were able to conclude that the man died due to some kind of poison that was similar to venom found in scorpion. Other than that, they were unable to go further with the investigation.
At the House of Lamentation…
You were relaxing in the gigantic bath inside Asmo’s bathroom. The fifth born said you needed to ease your mind and not to worry about anything. “You need healing after such a creepy traumatic experience like that.” He said while pushing you to his bathroom.
“Is the water to your taste, honey?” Asmo asked while dipping one finger into the water, testing its heat. After that, he put a lot of flower petals into the water, creating a wonderful fragrance.
“Yes, it’s very warm.”
“Alright, then I’ll go out and give you some privacy. Enjoy your time.”
“Wait.” You reached out and pulled Asmo’s sleeve.
“What’s the matter, honey?” Lust asked even though from his eyes, you could tell he knew what you wanted.
“The bath is so big and it’ll be lonely being in here alone. Will you join me?”
“Are you sure, MC? I’m not sure I could contain myself when I’m sharing a bath with you.” Asmo said, his cheeks blushed pink.
“I’m sure.” You answered as Lust undressed, turned into his demon form and joined you.
#obey me#omswd#obey me asmodeus#obey me shall we date#obey me one master to rule them all#omswd asmodeus#swd asmodeus#obey me asmodeus x reader#obey me x reader#asmodeus x reader#asmodeus x mc#asmodeus x male reader#obey me fanfic
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The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms. №7
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This is the translation of the another post from Russian to English. I understand English, but it is very difficult for me to write in English, so I asked chat GPT to help me. I have corrected some parts, but there still may be mistakes.
I'm experimenting with shadows) I like that Nightmer now looks like a happy octopus. Contrary to tradition, he was the first one in the photo, not Killer(I like how his fur turned out). But with Cross, I can't seem to draw his mech sharper and harder. Maybe in the future, I'll be able to do something that satisfies me. I feel like I messed up the perspective a bit in the drawing, and maybe some characters seem a bit lower/higher than I tried to draw them before, but I tried to maintain proportions =)
The new level was a network of mazes with walls made of ancient brick, through the gaps of which light passed. They were so narrow that Nightmer clearly felt a wave of irritation from the Destroyer, apparently afraid of accidental touches with someone. He himself didn't like the excess of disturbing light in this place.
Their smiling pets, on the other hand, enthusiastically entered the bright tunnels, gathering in groups around lanterns and torches, gradually depleting them until they went out with a characteristic sound. Since the author of the notes did not specify the exact path of penetration to level 3 through this place, most likely they had to wander back and forth for quite a long time until they finally came somewhere, or Error did not feel the transition between levels.
They slowly walked in the dark through the corridors following the Smilers absorbing the light. The material of the walls changed more often than on level 0: they passed through caves with glowing moss, hospital corridors with long incandescent lamps, round tunnel-pipes with blinding light from grilles. The latter gave them hope that they could finally get out at least to the Antivoid, but when Killer tried to stick his head out of the window, he received a very painful burn, which made his bones blacken. Insensitive to pain, he looked more surprised than angry. Fortunately, his HP was not affected. Nevertheless, the group stopped so that Horror could treat his injury.
It seems that the light on this level was not particularly friendly. And this helped them to pay attention to the fact that there were fewer former dog monsters around them now. Continuing to watch them, it turned out that their number decreased when they attacked flashing sources of light. Apparently, the decision to follow them protected the guys from unnecessary injuries. When their pack's number approached critical, Error was hit by a flashing light. Fortunately, the flash only hit his scarf, completely destroying it, which made the enraged Destroyer unleash his fury on hostile photons, at the same time completely destroying their accompaniment.
Fortunately, not far from the battle site, they still stumbled upon a hole in the wall leading to a richly decorated but empty bathroom. This was level 3.
The author of the notebook has no records about this level. He wrote a lot about how to get there, but did not describe it. Since all the levels before this one were quite empty and not heavily populated with hostile creatures, the group did not worry about the future.
Nightmer reacted quite optimistically to this place. He felt that sweet negativity was flowing in the pipes around them, which was unusual for him and deafened any presence of other creatures. It was clear that he would not be able to use his aura effectively here, for example, to search for lost ones or communicate with entities. Although the power that now overwhelmed him was good. (he is worried about the condition of others, maybe they should leave this place as soon as possible)
Error is still too vulnerable from the damage to his scarf and doesn't want to talk to anyone.
Cross saw through an open window a neighboring room where hundreds of garlands wrapped around prison bars. A mesmerizing sight. He heard a distant sound like a working generator and a faint smell of gasoline.
The rest decided to take a break from running away from the light show.
Nightmare belongs to Jokublog
Killer belongs to RahafWabas
Dust belongs to Ask-DustTale
Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios
Error belongs to CrayonQueen
Cross belongs to JakeiArtwork
#bad sanses#cross sans#dust sans#error sans#horror sans#killer sans#nightmare sans#the backrooms#au#undertale au#bad guys in backrooms#bad sans gang#art#underverse#undertale
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Hi! I was enchanted by your description of Byronic-ness, and really impressed with the wealth of knowledge you bring to bear on the topic. I'm re-listening to The Portrait of Dorian Gray, and I was wondering if Dorian would be Broadly Byronic, or Byronic-Orthodox? Conversely, how would Lord Henry stack up?
(for context, the post this ask is referring to, where I discuss my theory on the Byronic Hero, is here: https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/733557464082120704/some-thoughts-on-the-topic-of-byronism-byronic)
Thank you for the ask and sorry for the late reply. I wish I could give a more thorough answer, and although I've read Dorian at least three times, I haven't since my study of Byronism. Now I would like to read it again just to scan it for Byronic themes - but at the moment I can't justify spending time on a venture like this. But I could write essays about this topic, as many other people have.
In short, I believe Dorian would be more Broadly Byronic and Henry is also probably Broadly Byronic, but that Henry is much, much closer to being Orthodox Byronic if we see it as more of a spectrum than a binary, which would really be best, although I didn't really take that approach in my original post. Very few characters could be classified as Orthodox Byronic, so a spectrum really is most necessary.
In my original post, I included some quotes from top Byron scholar Peter Cochran writing about the Byronic Hero concept in his essay "Byron's 'Turkish Tales': An Introduction."
Cochran contrasts the Byronic Hero with the Shakespearean Tragic Hero by saying that the latter can be something of a witty conversationalist, whereas the former never is, being too dead inside (my words, not his). Henry is certainly a cunning conversationalist, and is actually a lot like Iago from Othello — a character who, ironically, Lord Byron loved so much that he put on a production of the play just so he could play him (as an aside, because I love this story: Mary Shelley played Desdemona and Percy directed, but one of Byron's mistresses forced the rehearsals to stop, supposedly because she was jealous of one of the actresses and felt left out because she couldn't speak English).
Anyway. Cochran also says that the prototypical Byronic Hero (what in my post I originally called the "Byronist's Byronic," but prefer to call "Orthodox Byronic" for clarity) never succeeds romantically, which is true. I don't know if this fully applies to Dorian or Henry. The former has several love affairs which aren't really genuine but which he does derive a sort of decadent satisfaction from. Dorian "wins over" Sybil Vane. Henry is married, and though not in love with his wife, he doesn't despise her like Heathcliff does his wife. Heathcliff is widely considered the greatest overall Byronic Hero, as he meets most of the criteria for both Orthodox Byronic and Broadly Byronic.
Cochran also says:
"The Byronic hero is a human dead-end."
Which does describe both Henry and Dorian. But in being companions, neither of them have the solitary nature which the Byronic necessitates, although they both come close (especially Dorian in the end) by being outsiders. And they are both hedonists, which isn't really Byronic, though people consider it as such, probably because of the cultural & literary confusion (as I explained in my original post) between the writings of Byron the Writer and the life of Byron the Man.
The Orthodox Byronic Hero, like Heathcliff, is mostly antisocial with few exceptions and basically has anhedonia the majority of the time. Dorian and Henry are a little anhedonic, especially Dorian in his infamously increasing pursuit of pleasure, but the Orthodox Byronic Hero is really too depressed to get it up for prostitutes or to go to an Opium den, and would never be caught dead at the kinds of dinner parties Dorian and Henry frequent.
But again, my overall opinion is that whild both of them have strong Byronic elements, they are more Broadly Byronic than Orthodox Byronic, which is a more rare character type.
#ask#asks#the picture of dorian gray#dorian gray#henry wotton#byronic hero#byronic heroes#my analysis#my writing#my essays#literature#english literature#lord byron#byronic#byronism#peter cochran#gothic literature#19th century#media analysis#literary analysis
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