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#the way the game refuses to give us a clear answer about their falling out

motelofmermaids · 4 months

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omg we need a finnick x shy reader plz😭🙏🙏

this pulled me out of my slight writer’s block, bless you. ❤︎︎ i want to add that this is definitely adding onto this request, and i kind of built a story from it. i wanted to keep it canon to the hunger games, and i didn’t make reader too shy to where it’s like… c’mon. nonetheless, i really hope y’all enjoy!!

finnick odair loves how shy you are.

❥ when you first, for a lack of better terms, met finnick odair, it was a year before the third quarter quell. he was free, as far as you knew, sun kissing his slight honey-tanned skin, illuminating his sea-green eyes. he, without a doubt, had your breath taken. it would have been far from the truth if finnick said your sole attention on him at the bustling farmer’s market made him uncomfortable. for the first time, he truly thrived under another’s attention. finnick had noticed your presence throughout the market, shy glances as you listened to the shop owner’s attempts to persuade you. he gave you a smile, a wave—and you, little ol’ you, immediately turned around and walked anywhere your shaking legs took you. finnick wondered if he did something wrong.

𓆝 the second time you saw finnick odair was at the beach, sitting in the water as mags listened to his incoherent rant. you noticed his body language, his hands talking with him. you had gotten in an argument with your parents beforehand about the upcoming hunger games, they said you could volunteer, give your family honor. you could’ve been useful—to the district, to the capitol—but you ‘wasted’ your life on making jewelry for the local children and shop owners. sure, they were beautiful, ‘but not good enough.’ as small sob threatened to leave your lips, holding onto the bracelets you had made days before—for your parents. walking past mags and the capitol’s darling, mags pulled finnick out of his rant, pointing to you. finnick wasted no time catching up to you.

❥ months have passed leading up to the quarter quell, in which you and and finnick had become… friends. it took him a while to get almost anything out of you, being as quiet as you are. it was worth it, though, the way you slowly came out of your shell around him—when you gave him such sweet smiles, finally not covering your mouth with your hand when you’d laugh. you still got warm on the cheeks, still couldn’t look into his eyes for too long, especially since finnick was a natural tease. he always leaned in a little too close, he would bite his lip when listening to you, sometimes he’d move a strand of hair away from your face. it was all too much for you, and finnick knew that.

𓇽 when snow announced that previous victors would be reaped for the 75th hunger games, you immediately ran to finnick’s. you couldn’t even think, instantly pulling him into a hug when he answered. you held him the entire night, mags right beside the two of you. “finnick,” you cleared your throat, tears threatening to fall, “i want you to have this…” you took off your necklace, hesitating to hold his hand as you gave him the beautiful seashell pendant. he leaned up, his other hand reaching to gently brush your cheek. “i…,” you stuttered over your breath, looking away from him, “i want you to have a piece of home with you.” mags observed the both of you, giving an all-knowing smile.

❥ when finnick odair finally came home to a liberated district 4, a liberated and free panem, he only thought of you. as soon as finnick found you, eyes red and scanning the crowds of people, he ran without any regard. gently cupping your face, he looked down at your wide eyes, your shaking hands resting on his arms. he refused to waste another moment, not when he almost died—when you could’ve died. he leaned down, his breath gently grazed against your lips, and you heart might have given out from how fast it was beating. you closed your eyes, a small unspoken consent for him, and he kissed you. he kissed you until you realized that he was your source of oxygen, that he was all you had. he slowly pulled away, a smile adorning his lips and you couldn’t bear it—your eyes fluttering shut in pure timidity.

𓆝 finnick wanted you to move in, thought you’d love it more because it was near the water. he told you about all the nights you could have together, walking on the beach and stargazing. you agreed, of course you would, with the one condition of getting a cat. he didn’t hesitate, and you and him were comfortable together. it wasn’t a new home, it was filled with finnick’s childhood, but there was a novelty in the air—it felt like a new beginning… it was a new beginning. you had a family now; finnick made sure to remind you of that everyday. you and him—and your cat— were normal, you didn’t need to lower your voices to appease the oppressive capitol.

❥ you didn’t need to lower your voice when finnick had you underneath him. it was slow, sweet, and spiritual. he promised you from the start that he understood you, that you could take your time. he didn’t want you to rush just to please him. and when you nervously told him that you were ready, he made sure it was the best experience you could ever imagine. he needed you to know just how much he loved you, and that you didn’t need to be quiet with him—that you didn’t have to put on a mask. you were simply you, in your rawest form. and he craved every second of it.

𓇽 when finnick had mentioned marriage, you, without a moment to process, spluttered. he knitted his brows together, a small frown on his face as he asked if it was too soon, too straightforward. you panicked out, “no—no… no, not at all.” but you were hot, hand on your cheek to cool yourself down because, dear lord, you felt like you were burning. finnick couldn’t help his laughs, a cocky grin accentuating his sweet dimples. he cherished you, and you were aware of it; his love for you would endure as long as he lived. when you put your head in your hands, nodding as you muttered a small ‘yes.’ he swore you were sent from the heavens—that you were meant for him.

finnick odair who loves you for you.

#kel’s anon show 📺#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #i loved writing this #i hope y’all love it just as much

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kamiversee · 1 month

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 9 || The Professor and His Student

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.9k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——WITHIN THRITY MINUTES, you're back in Gojo's company. Shoko wasn't home when you got to your apartment so there was no one for you to rant to and you were left still pissed off because of Gojo.

Actually, even if Shoko was home, it's not like she knows anything about the list. And you're not sure if you even want her to know anything about the list. It'd be too embarrassing to explain to her how you got yourself in this position so, you really have no plans on doing so.

The most your roommate knows is that last night you went out on a date. She doesn't know that it's Geto you went on a date with, or that you've slept with both of her friends and you'd like to keep it that way for the time being. There's way too much to explain for you to talk to her.

So ultimately, that leaves you alone in your situation. You have no one to talk to about this, no one to cry to about how Gojo is nothing more than a manipulative dickhead, and no one to release the buildup of emotions he's just given you.

The worst part of it all is that you were starting to put the blackmailing aside. You were starting to even like the idea of playing this little game with Gojo where you have to sleep with some hot guys and get paid for it. But when Gojo reminds you that you don't have the luxury of being comfortable in your situation, you just go right back to disliking him.

When the man showed up at your door to take you with him to his class, you barely exchanged any words. Gojo carefully explained the things his professor was attracted to, saying how he seemed like the kinda guy to be into a woman who looks like she needs help but is actually smart.

You asked Gojo what kinda clothes you should wear, resulting in you wearing a short skirt with stockings that hugged your thighs nicely. You felt a little uncomfortable in it, especially with Gojo's eyes all over you as if he you and him didn't just argue with one another minutes ago.

"Stop staring, you don't have that privilege anymore." You spat out to him as you adjusted the buttons on the shirt you wore.

Gojo's at your room door, leaning against the frame like always. "Come stop me from staring." He blurts out.

He's so used to flirting with you that he couldn't even help himself.

You send him a glare, "You're making things worse, y'know."

He knows. But he doesn't know how to fix it and still get what he wants at the same time. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't." You say simply.

Gojo falls quiet, watching as you move away from the mirror and over to your dresser to spray perfume on yourself. The scent makes its way into his nose and he has to bite back the compliment he nearly gives you.

After that, you put some shoes on and walked over to Gojo, looking up at the man with distaste in your eyes. For a minute, he simply peers down at you.

"...Can you please move?" You sigh tiredly.

Gojo doesn't budge. "Can you hear me out for a minute?"

You can't even believe the audacity of this man. "No."

"Please?"

"What is there to hear out? If I don't do this, you'll expose me. What else is there for you to say?" You ask.

He doesn't even know the answer to that question himself. "It's not what you think it is," Gojo says in the softest voice he can manage.

"Yeah?" You scoff, moving to fold your arms at him. "So what is it then, Gojo?"

"I just..." He trails off for a long moment.

You watch as he glances back and forth between your eyes, clearly having no words for you. You can see the clear regret in his eyes but you ignore it completely-- refusing to let yourself be manipulated by any of his looks.

Slowly, you lean closer to him. "You just what? Spit it out." You urge.

He swallows but remains silent, which leads you to roll your eyes at him. You then shake your head and move him to the side, stepping past him and exiting your bedroom.

"That's what the hell I thought. Now let's go." You say with a sigh.

Gojo's behind you cursing at himself for being unable to tell you the truth.

He's so scared that you'll never help him without the blackmail and, well, he has every right to be because you're pretty sure that if it weren't for those videos he has over your head, you wouldn't be doing any of this.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The walk to his class isn't long once the two of you get onto campus. It was on the third floor, in a section of the school you don't typically go down. You're not sure if you imagine it but you swear that every person you pass in the halls is insanely attractive.

The men, the women, literally all of them. For a moment you wonder if you're in the fashion department of your school based on the looks of those around you. It makes you wonder what Gojo's major is for a second, realizing you never actually asked him.

Your lips part to do so but... what's the point? You no longer care about getting to know the man anymore. Knowing his major won't help you complete this list any faster so, you end up closing your mouth and keeping quiet as you follow him.

When you get to the class, you notice that most of the room is full and Gojo is within the last group of people to arrive.

You're behind the white-haired man so, his professor lays eyes on him before you. You try to appear as inconspicuous as possible and thanks to the department of attractive and well-put-together people surrounding you, you don't stand out much.

Gojo makes a left to head up the stairs toward, what you assume to be, his seat, and you make sudden and direct eye contact with a tall, overly muscular man you swear isn't the professor.

Oh, there's no way in hell that this dark-haired man with a scar on the right corner of his lips is teaching this class. You refuse to believe that the man standing not too far away from you in a button up shirt that looks like it's seconds away from popping off him, is the damn professor.

Surely, you'd expected the blond man you saw in those pictures Gojo showed you to be a teacher. Definitely not this guy.

Those brown, maybe green, eyes of his skim over your entire body in one quick motion, an eyebrow raising the very second he realizes he's never seen you in his class before. In your hands are a binder and a book that you keep pressed against your chest, slightly fidgeting where you stand with the male's eyes all over you.

You wonder if you should say anything but when the large man looks back down at the papers scattered on his desk in front of him, you get the idea that he doesn't care too much about you being there.

With a sigh, you turn and follow after Gojo, quickly arriving at his seat and sitting beside him. Luckily for you, he's in the very back of the room so you get to sit in the corner with him.

You hadn't planned on learning anything today but, here you are, having no idea what you're getting yourself into.

"Gojo," You whisper and he turns to you. "What subject even is this...?"

"Uh, economics." He hums.

You freeze. "You're joking right?"

"I'm not."

"How the hell am I supposed to explain why I'm here?!" You whisper shout at him.

He shrugs casually, "I dunno."

You scowl. "Of course you don't."

Gojo grimaces at himself for his words, "Okay, well maybe-"

"Nope, save it. I'll figure it out myself." You cut off as you organize the few items you brought with you.

He sighs heavily beside you but you ignore the sound.

The class is steady to begin and your heart increases tenfold in nervousness when the deep baritone voice of the professor hits your ears. It was nothing but a lazy 'afternoon everyone' to greet his students as he went to shut the door but for some reason, it made your nerves spike.

As the professor, whose name you end up figuring out is Mr. Fushiguro, began his lecture, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The room was filled with students who so obviously belonged there. You, a psychology major, genuinely have no excuse to be here right now.

Okay, sure, you may have taken an economics class in high school but, that was high school and it was a required course for you at the time. Now, it'll be a bit difficult to explain why you're there.

Luckily for you, you've been in a similar position before. Except, the last time you were in a situation like this, there were real reasons behind it. You had slipped into one of Shoko's classes and attended that class with her for about three weeks straight-- having needed to use the interactions of her class for a report you were working on.

So in this case, you hope you'll be able to do the same thing and pull this off.

With that in mind, you made sure to actually pay attention to the lecture to ensure that you had something to talk about if or when Mr. Fushiguro questions you.

As you did that, Gojo sat beside you unable to pay attention to anything aside from the woman attentively taking notes beside him. He couldn't help but stare at you with his cheek resting against his knuckles, watching the way you were taking real notes on the class.

He gazed at the side of your face, getting lost in his mind as he tried to think of ways to fix things. He wondered if the two of you could just brush over the argument. It's not like he didn't blackmail you before and you guys didn't move on from that.

Or maybe it was just him who'd moved on. Perhaps you're still worried about the situation you were in. It'd only been a few days since it started, not even a full week yet.

Gojo's so busy thinking that he hasn't realized he's still staring at you. When he does realize it though, he doesn't stop. Instead, the male goes on to admire you. This is probably one of the only times he'll get to be near you going forward.

I hate you, the words still echo in his mind. He's so pissed at himself for it. He should've never even done this. Maybe he could've found someone else to go and seduce these people for him, not you-- Gojo likes you.

Wait, he... likes you? Gojo blinks at his own thoughts, wondering if that's what's wrong with him. Maybe that's why he felt these urges to kiss you or be around you or even make you smile and laugh...

He finds himself replaying the events of that morning over and over. It was perfect. To wake up to you kissing him so softly, to have you in his arms all night, and to even bond a little with you without it being about the list.

It was-

"Gojo," You hummed, breaking him out of his mind entirely. Your gaze was down on the paper in front of you as you spoke, "Do you like your eyes?"

His brows pinch together and you hear him scoff a little bit, "Yeah...?"

"Wanna keep 'em?" You question sarcastically.

He blinks, "Uh, yes...?"

You turn your head to him and your voice is low and an agitated whisper, "Then stop fucking staring at me."

Gojo doesn't even look away yet. His eyes remain on yours and the eye contact is intense for a second. He hates to think about it but, you're rather hot when you're mad, as toxic as it is to think about...

The way you're eyes are all narrow and the tenseness of your face is oddly attractive to the man. Under different circumstances, Gojo would've teased you about it like he normally does but, right now, you look like you might stab his eyes out with the pencil in your hands.

Instead of taking the warning you have him seriously, Gojo only grins at you, "Make me." He whispers back, voice teasing.

You glare for a moment, and then you start shaking your head in utter disbelief. "You're an ass."

"An ass?" Gojo chuckles quietly, "What happened to asshole?"

"I might change it to a piece of shit." You say with a shrug as you turn your head away and multi-focus on both him and the lecture.

Gojo tilts his head, "Doesn't that take too long to say?"

"Dickhead." You say simply.

He frowns, "Ehh, doesn't have a nice ring to it."

With a sigh, you glance at him through the corner of your eye, "I'm not gonna play this little game with you."

"Nono, keep going," Gojo pleads, now smiling at you as if he isn't aware that he's only annoying you even more. "I like hearing all the mean names you can come up with."

You roll your eyes at him, "I hope you fail this class."

"Woahh, I need this class to graduate, sweets." He argues, pouting a little bit at your sudden words.

"Enough with the pet names," You sigh. "Hearing anything affectionate coming from you is revolting."

"You liked it this morning."

"That was before you pissed me off."

Gojo smirks, "I do that quite often though, don't I?"

"Yeah, you do."

He hums and inches a little closer to you, "And yet you still hung around me."

"I was forced to." You reply, trying to take notes on the subject ahead at the same time.

"Were you forced to kiss me this morning too?" Gojo says.

That question made you scoff. He definitely pushed all the right buttons with that one, "Were you forced to be born as an insufferable asshole who likes manipulating women into clearing your debt for you?" You question, anger embedded into your tone.

He pauses. The worst part of what you said was that you weren't even looking at him. You said that without batting an eyelash. And it came out your mouth faster than he expected.

Gojo opens his mouth slowly, almost carefully, "I-"

Before he gets the chance to say anything, the abrupt sound of his professor speaking louder is heard. "Gojo Satoru," The professor calls out with an annoyed sigh.

You think you see the hairs on the back of Gojo's neck stand up and you watch as he grits his teeth and turns his head to face his teacher.

"Plan on talkin' through my whole class?" Mr. Fushiguro questions.

Gojo looks immediately annoyed as he shakes his head, the sight of him shut up so quickly almost satisfying to you.

That earns a nod from his professor, "That's what I thought." He hummed, his eyes snapping over to you right afterward.

You swear you were shrinking under the man's gaze, even though he was on the other side of the damn room. It was so intimidating that you just knew he was about to say something to you.

But, he doesn't. It was nothing more than a quick glance, maybe even a warning glance.

You sigh and then peek over to Gojo beside you, noticing how he looks upset now. A smile graces your face as you see the man in distress, it was quite the satisfying sight to behold-- especially given the hell he's putting you through.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The lecture was a full three hours long, something you surprisingly were able to stay awake for and focus on the entire time.

You have a feeling it was the way Mr. Fushiguro taught the class or maybe it was the way he looks. With a face and body like that, you think you could stay awake and stare for hours unprovoked. That has to be the only plus side to the list you're going through-- the fact that everyone is stupidly hot.

As the class finished, you grabbed all the notes you'd taken and wondered if you should just approach the professor yourself. Gojo waited for you to get your stuff together and then you followed behind him to leave the class.

The halls seemed to be pretty busy with how long it took for students to actually leave the classroom and you ended up waiting for people to walk out. This placed you in the back of the group of people, being one of the last to actually exit.

"You," A deep voice suddenly called from behind.

Your head turns back and you meet the professor's stern eyes. He raises two fingers and beckons you to come to him. With a swallow, you nudged Gojo on the back of his arm, silently letting him know that you were staying behind before you turned and made your way over to the teacher.

As you approached the desk, the man stool on the other side of it, eyes daunting and presence overwhelming. He was far too attractive to be a professor.

"Sir," You greeted calmly, "You called me...?"

His eyes scan all of you in front of his desk. Not in a way that seemed like he was checking you out but, more in the sense that he was confirming he's never seen you before.

He nodded toward a nearby seat, "Sit."

You don't know why your spine goes rigid at his sudden command. Perhaps it was the authority in his voice? Or the deep undeniably attractive tone of it?

Slowly, you move to sit down in the seat he's told you to. After that, you quietly watch as he awaits all the students to leave. Once the classroom is clear, the professor takes a seat at his desk and all of his tension-filled focus goes to you.

You were nervous. Ridiculously so.

And it wasn't even because of the situation itself but because of the sexy-ass man staring at you. Okay, maybe this list isn't that bad... especially if you get to interact with people you normally wouldn't.

The man leans forward, moving to rest his arms on the desk in front of him and clasping his hands together. "Well?" He asks, clearly expecting you to just explain yourself.

You instantly look down to your lap, "Uh..."

When you take too long, in his eyes, to answer, you hear the man sigh heavily. "You gonna tell me why you're in my class?" He questions.

You look up at him and take a deep breath, "Yeah, sorry. I'm a uh, psychology major and I have this project coming up soon where I have to analyze large groups of people, preferably in different classrooms, to see how different goals and aspirations differ the actions of people."

That was by far the best and cleanest lie you think you've ever given in your entire life. It's usually not hard to explain just a little bit of your major to people, the explanation alone always brings confusion.

The man blinks slowly, kinda like he didn't understand what the hell you just said. "Okay." He sighs, "Two things. One, what does that have to do with you being here without permission, and two, can you explain that in simpler terms?"

A light smile grows on your face, "Well, I meant to come here before the class started and ask if I could sit through a couple of your lectures to study everyone but uh, I forgot... A-And, in simpler terms, I'm just here to see how certain subjects affect certain people."

Mr. Fushiguro nods his head, pausing to think about what you just told him. He has no reason not to believe you, he's actually had plenty of students do this in the past.

"Psych major, huh?" He asks.

"Yes sir."

"That's uh," He clicks his tongue, "Surprising."

"How so?" You scoff, quick to take a bit of offense.

The man shrugs, "I don't usually get Psych majors in my class, you're the first."

"Oh." You chuckle, "Well, I was also curious about how the economy specifically would alter people's way of thinking."

"Yeah?" You think you see him grinning at you. He appears to be intrigued, "Why?"

"I mean, when you're talking about the economy, you're talking about money and, well," You shrug, "Who doesn't like money? I just wanted to see if that made any difference in the way people think and act in terms of education."

"Right," He nods again, "And what class is this for?"

Shit. "Uhm, sociology." You manage to say.

The male opens his mouth to comment something but he's cut off by a light knock on his open classroom door, prompting both of you to turn your head. Your eyes go wide at the man you see standing there.

Blond, tall, neutral facial expression, and, above all, mouth-wateringly sexy. Good god, where the hell does Gojo find these men? The male at the door is someone you recognize from the pictures.

"Mr. Fushiguro," The blond calls, voice stoic.

"Nanami." The professor in front of you replies, "How can I help ya?"

The man at the door takes a few steps into the classroom, "I had a few questions on the assignment from last week."

Your mind is all over the place at this point. Is this who Gojo was talking about when he said there are two people on the list in the class?

"I might have a few answers," Mr. Fushiguro, whose first name you notice is Toji based on the nearby nameplate sitting on his desk, responds playfully.

You then watch as he stands and walks over to Nanami, your heart spiraling out of control. Spotting two people from the list in one day? It's nerve-wracking.

The two stand not too far away from you and quietly go over something. You pick up on tidbits of their conversation but it's all about an assignment you know nothing about so, there's not much you can do with the information you hear.

Nanami's glance strays over to you for only a second, long enough for you two to make eye contact, and long enough for him to look away. It was a glance of simply acknowledging the fact that you're there-- not even the kinda glance where he's checking you out.

The look he gave you and the one you initially received from Toji are similar, it's like neither of them was even interested in you-

Holy shit.

You think you know why too. The way they look at you is nothing compared to Geto's first glances at you, even though the situation and setting are much different.

That's when you realize...

That asshole Gojo never told you what level of difficulty these men are considered to be.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

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collectivecloseness · 1 year

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Beautiful Swan

Eddie Munson x reader

(Summary: When Hellfire starts a fun little game of ‘what animal does everyone look like?’ your self-esteem plummets to the floor. But your best friend and crush, Eddie, can tell. And he’s there to not only defend you, but make sure he’s around to help pick you back up <3. Tw: negative body image. Reuploaded from my ao3. 9.4K)

You’d finally finished today’s session. Eddie decided the cliffhanger he’d brought up was the best place to leave it, the worst for you and the rest of Hellfire unfortunately. But that meant you guys had a few minutes where you could all just chat and hang out.

Eddie waddled up to you, nudging his shoulder against your own to get your attention, and when you looked to him, all he did was smile at you. You chuckled smally back, rubbing your shoulder against his playfully too.

You loved the fact that when Eddie enrolled you in his campaign, he pulled out the seat right next to his for you, on your very first day. Pushing it in with a genuinely charming smile as you sat, and a short bow of his head, as you thanked him. Gareth seemed to get a pencil thrown at his head right after that, although you were too busy starting at Eddie’s pretty smile he was giving just to you. So you guess he’s the one who lost his chair.

It wasn’t just his genuine and effortless charm that made you fall in love with Eddie Munson though, even before he was your best friend, although that certainly added to it. From the moment you saw Eddie, you were completely enamoured. Not just romantically, but he had such an aura around him it just made you want to be someone close to him till the end of time. You’d love, more than anything, for Eddie to ask you out. On a proper date, not just asking his friend to chill at the arcade or smoke weed in his empty trailer. Although you still enjoyed every interaction with him. Him asking you to do those as his girlfriend would be a great day! But it wasn’t going to happen.

Even though Eddie didn’t see much about himself, you tried to talk him up, as much as you could, even if sometimes it fell into the not completely platonic category, you would tell him, because he deserved to know every good thing about himself. You truly saw how amazing Eddie was. And while you two were best friends... you feared there was no way in hell, he would ever even consider thinking about you like that.

Not that you’d hold that against him! Of course not! He didn’t owe you anything, he was perfectly fine being attracted to who he was attracted to. But you sometimes just wished, you looked a little less like yourself, because now and again your gut just whispered to you all the parts of your body that made you unlovable to another person. Especially someone you admired so much, like Eddie Munson.

Eddie nudged you with his hip this time. And a laugh seeped from his bitten smirk as you shoved his arm with your hand, easily regaining his balance but using your shoulders to do so. You giggled back, offering your help by steadying his own shoulders, and letting go once he was on his feet. Eddie however, did not let go of your eyes. Still grinning, his body turned to give you his full attention. “How was today’s session princess?” His hand coyly flipped half over his grin, holding his elbow, like he was rocked with anticipation for your answer.

Your character wasn’t even royalty. And you refused to ever play the damsel in distress role, in a group filled with only boys. But Eddie still called you that pet name. And it made you smitten every damn single time. You at least presumed, it was a dnd reference.

“Was I an... adequate dungeon master?” He leant closer to you but didn’t whisper it. You sucked your lips in even though you made it clear you were smiling, just trying not to giggle, with the way Eddie made you feel. “Well... adequate may be a grand understatement, my noble dungeon master.”

Eddie’s fist skyrocketed to his chest, eyes closed as he let out a grateful sound. “You’re too kind sweet princess! For I surely would’ve been strewn in twain, if you thought any less of me.”

Eddie never gave up the silly voices, and he only peeked open one eye to see if you were amused, teeth gleaming in glee as he saw your cheeks raise as you laughed. He winked that open eye at you, before dropping his hands to his sides.

You went to swat at his chest teasingly again, but Eddie easily brushed away your hand with his own, smirking at his easy victory over you. His smirk soon transitioned into a smile, and his lips opened as if to say something else. Until Mike spoke up loudly.

“This is boring! Let’s play a game.”

Eddie didn’t even take his eyes off you before dramatically rolling them. You giggled, hiding it in your hand, but at the sound Eddie’s slumped shoulders bounced right back up, and he beamed at you proudly.

“Aw. Do the babies all need to play games to stay happy?” Gareth teased, flicking Mike’s forehead, who then bat at the band members hand like an angry cat.

“Dude shut up. You’re making us look like babies!” Dustin smally whacked Mike, Lucas agreeing. You laughed a little into Eddie, who’s shoulder was still close to yours and not going anywhere. The poor freshmen did still have to fight a little bit to get taken seriously sometimes. Although no one would debate that Eddie held the most power in this room.

“Let’s say what animal everyone looks like!” Jeff smoothly input, pivoting immediately around to his friend. “Gareth is naked mole rat.”

“A WHAT?!” All of the boys erupted into laughter, expect for Gareth who was hitting Jeff with a book. Even Eddie’s chorus rang out behind you and you loved that sound. But oh God.

A cold slimy feeling ran down your throat and seemed to climb up your spine in canon. This game would not be for you. You know you struggle with self-esteem issues, you realise that. Sometimes you felt bad even being in Eddie’s Hellfire logo shirt. It could feel too skin tight and suffocating, nothing to do with Eddie’s printing, but your own nauseating feeling like you somehow didn’t deserve to be wearing it.

You would really prefer if you guys could’ve just kept talking instead. If you could be chatting with Eddie right now, instead of standing here with literal goosebumps on your skin from the threat of this conversation. Would there be anyway you could get out of being picked at this that wouldn’t look odd? You weren’t sure.

Eddie crossed his arms, biting back a smile as he looked at his young warriors, Lucas energetically shaking Jeff and Mike who stood beside him. “Who should we do next?”

God you hoped they didn’t pick you. You knew Eddie wouldn’t be cruel, you knew he was a very empathetic guy, who from his own experiences, knew when words could hurt more than most. You loved that about him, and he loved that you could actually see how kind he could be, and not just because he had such kind eyes. Some of the things he told you in private, only you, were things only a genuinely emotionally intelligent person would know. And even though the other guys were your friends too, you dreaded the thought of them all staring at you and judging an animal from that. ...What would they even pick?

‘A slug.’ Is what popped into your mind. But you shudder, hating yourself for thinking that way. And hating yourself because you almost believe that is an animal you could resemble. It’s stupid. You have to clear the thought away immediately, focus on something, Eddie’s smile at liking this new game, just so you didn’t actually think hard about what you could argue might’ve been an intrusive thought. If you think too hard on it, you’ll bring yourself down and you can’t do that around the others, it’ll just bring them down too.

“Dustin... Dustin...” Mike pondered, now realising he got to make fun of his best friends too.

“Oh shit. Yeah, Dustin...?” Lucas piped up, swivelling more to his side as they both, all of you, stared down your cap wearing friend.

Mike continued. “Hmm... Dustin.”

“You guys better be careful.” Dustin warned, holding up a karate chop hand to show he was serious, making you and Eddie giggle into each other.

Into each other! Your giggles shifted your bodies about until Eddie’s shoulder was leaning against yours. And he stayed in that position! Normally you wouldn’t be this excited because you were physically close as friends, it wasn’t unusual, but when your heart’s already going, everything seemed bigger. You tried desperately not to move, self conscious about your own breathing now, was it rubbing Eddie the wrong way, was it loud? Nasally? And oh my god this is an uncomfy position. Did you look unnatural positioned like this? Like you just wanna touch Eddie? Which is ridiculous because you touch him all the time! You literally hugged this morning. And Eddie held your high five after he’d graced you with one, swinging your hands down and wrapping it in his own as he continued his description of the, courtesy of you, slain goblin. Swinging your hand for a few seconds so it was enough to be causal, not enough for someone to call anyone out on, but enough to be long enough to make you question. And have something to giggle over in bed that night when you thought about it.

Mike and Lucas just laughed at Dustin’s display, before the former decided. “An ostrich.”

It seemed to not be anything Dustin was expecting at least, if his whole body leaning back was enough to tell. “An ostrich? Why the shit?”

“I don’t know” Mike fake stroked his chin, Lucas following in suit as all the members now tried to see the relation in the curly haired boy. “It’s something to do with the eyes. Too beady, too... untrustworthy.”

Dustin scoffed. And there was silence, only for a few seconds in the club room, which was still rare. But everyone was busy contemplating Dustin. Until Gareth spoke calmly. “Jeff’s a blobfish.”

“What the hell is a blobfish?!” Jeff double taked, looking at his best friend incredulously.

“The ugliest animal in the world.” Everyone snickered. “We can probably find a pic of it in the library, if you’re okay breaking into the scary adults only section.”

You were part of the ensemble of laughs everyone gave, including Jeff’s cheerfully fake one before he tackled Gareth, noogieing him hard as the other boy cackled in his grip. You were glad everyone could joke around as friends like this. At first the guys were all a little nicer to you. The freshmen of the group were clearly already friends, as were Gareth and Jeff, but Eddie, even being friends with all of them, accepted you into his close circle almost immediately. You were glad when the guys realised they could just treat you like their other friends, they didn’t need to coddle you just because you were a girl. Although you were a little nervous about the rough housing around this topic.

Sure you could take some light teasing, you weren’t a baby, and you hazed the guys right back, but you had a feeling whichever animal they all said looked like you, is something that’s going to be spiralling into the back of your mind quickly. And you were a bit nervous for any disatourous consequences that could come of that.

The two band members were getting a little rougher, still laughing away, but knocking into the table now. The freshmen all eagerly cheering them on. And even though the session was over, the pieces were about to be put away from their strategic positions on the map, Eddie still raised his hand as he watched his beloved hand painted figures topple.

“Hey hey HEY!” Eddie called out, his hand spread out and everyone, you included, falling into silence under your leader, a smile on his face that got you all invested in whatever wise words he’d say. “I’m the dungeon master here!” Eddie threw both his arms wide open dramatically now, smiling fiercely at his little group. “Have you all forgotten who’s God when you’re wearing those shirts?” He scoffed at the guys who were settling down, smiling to you as you watched them all fall in line, his hair bouncing as he rolled his eyes with his whole head. It made you smile. “I’ll decide who’s what!”

Eddie dropped his arms once you all were grinning, eagerly waiting for him to cast his opinions. And firstly, Eddie turned on his heel to you. Both his feet plopped in place firmly, hands swinging behind his back as he hummed to your self, looking you up and down.

Now your heart was truly pounding. You hid the worry on your face easily, just smiling back with such a nice look that it almost was daring him to be mean to someone so loveable, and loyal in your group.

Finally Eddie resigned, with a hand extending to yours, smiling with heart as he finally got the animal he was searching for. “For y/n... a swan.”

Now that hadn’t been what you were expecting. You could feel your head flinch back from the unexpected declaration. For a moment you tried to decipher if there was anything physically about you that was truly swan like that surpassed all the, well, you. But coming up with a blank for that, you felt your heart spike in the good way you’d only felt around Eddie in recent years. A genuine smile crept onto your features and this time you didn’t hold it back.

You and Eddie were still looking right at each other, and he grinned as he saw you spark up at the name. But before you could ask, in a voice you dreadfully knew would be smaller and higher pitched than your usual but you for once didn’t care about, Mike popped up with a question of his own to your dm.

“Soooo, is that because of the ugly duckling thing, orrrr?..”

The rest of the club burst into laughter, Mike more than anyone, looking to you with pride at his jab. You guys did tease each other quite a lot, it helped solidify a lot of friendships early on. The only one who didn’t laugh was Eddie.

You’d laughed at their joke. Not in a large way, but you pointed your finger and stretched out as if to hit their shoulders as they teased, but you laughed along with your friends in their game. Even though as soon as the joke left Mike’s mouth, and the laughter started up, you felt a stabbing pain, starting from your heart, wreaking havoc all over your body. In your life you’d gotten used to laughing after a while, you knew it was easier for everyone else. And it was easier for you if you just played along and didn’t make them uncomfortable. ’Ugly duckling...’ you thought, ’couldn’t have picked better myself. My friends clearly know me so well.’ A glum cloud was moving over you.

Eddie wasn’t too thrilled though. “Hey knock that shit off.” He growled warningly at Mike, who only raised in hands in fake surrender before bringing them to his knees to laugh again. Eddie telling them off almost made it funnier to them. Well, his reactions did really.

With Eddie’s eyes on Mike and Lucas, Gareth raised his hand behind Eddie’s back quickly “Have you turned into the pretty swan yet?”

He yelped and ran as Eddie span around to whack upside his head, hiding behind Jeff with a playfully startled look on his face. Like a dog wanting to play chase.

You didn’t answer his question, and you didn’t even have to laugh as everyone’s attention was on the scene Gareth was making with Eddie. It allowed you to just sink into the background, wishing the shadowy room, a perfect set up by Eddie, the auteur of Hellfire Club, would swallow you whole so you didn’t have to grin till your cheeks hurt, and hide the redness you knew would eventually stain your eyes.

“No I meant swan! Just swan!” Eddie whipped his explanation to the room, frustrated everyone was making such a big deal about what was supposed to be his compliment to you, twisting his words like everyone else in town did. Except this time it made his heart hammer like it hadn’t since he’d accepted the fact nearly everyone hated him, because you were on the receiving end, and not him. “That’s not what I mea- shut up you guys!” His eyes found yours now, and you were just standing exactly where you were before, a neutral look plastered across your expression, minus your upper lip you sucked in.

“You have never been, and are not, an ugly duckling.”

There was a pregnant pause. Your wide eyes were held on Eddie’s soft ones, one hand pressed out to you, the other behind him where the majority of the guys were, like he was trying to forcefully separate you from the bullies, even if they did think it was all joking, and you thought he knew you wouldn’t try and distance those opinions yourself, from the way he kept looking at you. His own lips mirrored yours, the only movement in the room apart from his chest rising and falling as he breathed, sucking it in as he waited for you. He hadn’t meant to start any type of conversation like this, and you knew he didn’t like where it’d gone. With just a few moments of him watching you like that, you felt a small smile start to tug at your lips where they were previously tucked away, heartbeat softening under his gaze and words.

That was until words not spoken by Eddie, broke the graceful moment supposendly only noticed between the two of you.

“Like... so what, is y/n aging backwards, orrrr??” Dustin asked the group, snapping the silence of the room. It was quickly completely shattered as everyone praised Dustin for his comeback. You watched Eddie’s shoulders fall in a sigh, squinting his eyes just a little harder than usual.

Your stomach flipped as the boy you almost felt was a little brother to you cut you deep.

Great, even Dustin was properly joining in now. His words almost stung the most. But even as your brain thought that, your heart thought another thing ’not him too...’

“Seriously, knock it off!“ Eddie growled deeply at his members, more firm than the last time he said it. But the guys just didn’t get it. They weren’t taking him seriously, they didn’t realise they were supposed to. Dustin hadn’t even looked at Eddie, he just kept waiting for you.

And when his big goofy grin was looking to yours, and the others as he got such an uproarious reaction to his joke, Eddie being ignored, your own practice perfect smile reacted too. “Oh not you as well?” You rolled your eyes, thankful it gave you an excuse to blink any wateriness away. “Shit Dustin, I thought at least you’d be on my side?”

“I am.” Dustin nodded, feigning seriousness in a straight pose as he embellished upon his joke. “It’s therapeutic for people to not live in denial after a while.”

You laughed again, giving a small punch to his shoulder as you were half relieved that your serious words came in a light enough tone that no one could decipher them. The other part of you begged them to realise this was too much. That they were hurting you. But you knew you couldn’t handle that. If you started acting like a baby, acting out against their words like a brat who couldn’t take it, they’d all just pause and stare at you, even Eddie. None of them would know what to say and you’d have ruined everything by making it awkward. The ugliest animal thing earlier showed they were all joking as friends, but you couldn’t apparently take a joke. They were all good kids, and your friends. They couldn’t help your uncomfortable truth.

“Has it happened yet in that case?” Mike faux whispered to the other younger boys, slinking away a little with a giggle as Eddie stepped closer, chin out and teeth gritted in frustration.

You couldn’t see that though from your vantage point at the other side of the end of the table. You managed a chuckle at Mike’s add on, it was smaller than your laughs before. You didn’t really know how to react now that Eddie was sticking up for you the way he was, but even that small laugh was enough to bring Eddie physically back to you.

“Y/n you don’t have to laugh,” Eddie told you, eyes twitching downwards in sadness. Why weren’t you discouraging them? “Guys, shut the fuck up already.” He told them off, stepping closer to your side whilst he glared at them.

You felt something in your jaw twitch, a muscle or something, and you hoped Eddie didn’t hear the sound your throat made in response. You leant closer to his warmth, not touching him yet as his slightly widening nostrils made his breathing audible to you, but your jacket material brushed agaisnt his own. “It’s fine Eddie, don’t w-“

“No it’s not y/n.” Eddie quickly interrupted you, looking down at you with a softer glance, even though he’d snapped his disapproving look from the boys in under a second. He still looked disappointed at you though. Although you weren’t sure if he’d had time to control that look aimed at them, or if it was your fault.

You were stunned into silence. You almost felt ashamed, bowing your head as you looked at Eddie’s feet, noticing them shuffling nearer to you. He didn’t solidly touch you yet, but his arm and left side was slightly behind you now, closer like this. You didn’t think the guys were making that much of a big deal, especially since in this case, part of you knew they were truly joking. But the words they spoke still came out. You weren’t expecting Eddie to really defend you, not when you didn’t even try and defend yourself anymore, not even subconsciously. It felt... warm, that he did though.

In the tiniest of movements, you leant your back into his torso.

Your back only grazed against his cotton shirt, but it still felt better than before. Better than most things.

“C’mon, it’s not like she’s gonna start sprouting white feathers any time soon!” Mike retaliated against Eddie in a brave offence.

Your instinct is almost to laugh again. But Eddie’s was to drop his hands onto your shoulders, and that touch completely whirlwinded your thoughts, as well as snapping you out of that learnt behaviour. Things were different when Eddie was behind you. After a few seconds of them still laughing, Eddie began gently rubbing your shoulders. You didn’t think this was because they were still laughing at you. Eddie just naturally fell into it. It felt too good as he rubbed his hands quickly up and down the top of them, the friction buzzing beneath your skin in a way that made you feel heated in your face and chest, not in a way that made you want to itch your skin off, for how disgusting your body felt it was. Eddie was now fully behind you, but his head still leant over yours as he spoke. You felt shrouded by him, including, from your own umbrella of thoughts. “Don’t pay any attention to those shitheads y/n.” He commanded you.

You meant to nod. Really. You meant to show Eddie that you were strong. You were good and could do what he asked. But instead, with the soft weight of Eddie’s palms rolling against your skin, your body gave off more of a defeated shrug. Maybe that’s what your mind intended your body to show anyway. Even with Eddie’s support. Something you didn’t know you needed quite this much, even if you were having somewhat of a hard time properly accepting it.

That seemed to do it for Eddie. He peered down at you, leaning more to the side. You had to look away after a certain point, when his eyes grew scared, it was like he could see right into you. His voice was stable as he moved in front of you, hands still clapsed to your shoulders, and eyes full with hurt. “Stop that y/n, you’re beautiful.”

Loud enough that the club members could hear. Which was in Eddie’s plan. He just wasn’t thinking super far ahead, his chest squeezing for a second too hard, when after a small obvious pause the guys all called out in unison. “Ooooooh!”

They all started teasing him. At a similar level they were doing so to you. And you didn’t miss the sudden panic that hit Eddie’s eyes, especially as his hands dropped from your body, twiddling his own rings instead. “Well you know not beautiful I didn’t mean it like that I just m-me-meant...”

You guessed it wasn’t worth defending you at this point. Now more than ever you had to keep in control of your face, with Eddie looking at you still stumbling over his own words. His confidence quickly fading.

And while it hurt hearing him call you that initially, ’beautiful’, even though you knew something was wrong with you that that did hurt, it hurt even more when he said you weren’t.

And you knew that was stupid. That wasn’t what he meant, he just didn’t want you to think he was hitting on you inappropriately or anything (or at all). He didn’t want the guys teasing you about him having a crush. Especially when he almost definitely didn’t, so Eddie would’ve found it annoying you were sure. That bad part of your brain still took what it could grab at though. Eddie did not mean to say you were beautiful, he didn’t think that was true at all.

Probably only said it to shut up your blabbering for a second. You were that pathetic, just bringing the vibe down for everyone, so much Eddie had to lie. Good job he quickly redacted it you guessed. At least he still had his values there.

Wallowing in your own self-misery, something Eddie was very clealry not missing, he was shook out of his concern for you by Gareth sticking his tongue out at him. “C’mon Eddie, you’re never this nice to us.”

Eddie rolled his eyes back with a dramatic grunt to him. “Yeah well that’s because I actually like y/n! Y/n is actually nice.” He turned back to you, still concerned that you weren’t looking at anyone’s face, not even his as he tried to grab your attention. Only his kept being stolen back by those little pricks.

“Is it because y/n’s the only girl in the group?” Lucas asked, getting a “Yeah Eddie. Is it?” From Dustin as back up.

Eddie grit his teeth, shaking his head in frustration. Talk to you, get them to back off, get you to look at him, talk to his group. “No-“

“Well it has to be something.” Jeff suggests, earning a snicker from Gareth.

“Look, you’re all assholes.” Eddie chides. Not in a super serious way, but letting them know he was getting tired of dealing with their bull. He was trying to shut them down, at least get them to talk amongst themselves so he could have you. But as soon as his head snapped back to you, everyone’s went to Gareth, as his digital watch started to beep.

Eddie’s heart sunk, and yours fluttered in relief mixed with discomfort. Time to leave.

Everyone started packing up. Eddie quickly shoving all his things into his bag because leaving them there was a death wish for any figurines or other creations, but he didn’t want to get caught behind by everyone else’s cleaning up.

Dustin hit your arm lightly only to snicker at you when you looked up. You laughed along with the joke. Your head was red because you were bending at an angle under the table to quickly pack your bag. No other reason.

At least with the growing members, no one would notice if you didn’t talk to anyone on the short way out of school. You hoped.

All of you flooded out the theatre rooms door, the club chattering amongst themselves down the empty hallway as you tried to keep your head buried even further now, in less dim light. Although the sudden change of leaving had given you a small spark of rejuvenation, that you were riding out so as not to cry. Eddie was sticking close by you, not talking to the others either, but apart from your mouth breathing you were doing, which you had to keep up to stop from fully cracking, you tried to act normal.

And considering both of you were surrounded by the group walking to the exit doors, Eddie didn’t try and talk to you until you all dispersed there. Even though you were the only thing he looked at the entire walk.

Exiting into the Indiana sun, that was definitely about to start setting with how late the session had gone, the rest of the members started going to their methods of transportation, the parking lot pretty silent as most clubs finished at a reasonable and precise time. Unlike Hellfire.

The kids had their bikes to haul back today, and Gareth’s mom was picking him and Jeff up, so it meant Eddie had a free seat. Not that he wouldn’t be driving you, or anyone, in the back of his van anyways. “Hey, do you need a ride home?” Eddie offered, trying to act causal like he could tell you wanted, but the inside of his mind buzzing with ’Please say yes, please ride with me so we can talk.’

But you quickly shut that down, panic evident on your face, which Eddie hated to see, as you quickly spoke out “My mom’s picking me up.” Too quickly for normal.

Eddie opened his mouth again, just letting it take over what he was next to say without his mind’s involvement, a bit like you clearly were, but as he did, you both spot about the only car rolling outside.

Heart dropping disappointed, Eddie put on a small smile as he waved to your mom through her window, just as you started to run over, not even saying bye to Eddie. Not even hugging him goodbye... which he looked forward to every single day. You hugging him hello and goodbye were the only hugs, the only true physical affection, Eddie really ever got. And he didn’t get it today.

But all he could do was keep waving, not able to see if anyone was waving back thanks to the sun’s reflection on the car window, as he was forced to watch you driving away...

You hated that you had school the next day. You almost wanted to take the day off, you had the very real stomach ache as an excuse. Plus the fatigue from staying up until 2am - it was hard to sleep when all you could do was cry. Scared about what Eddie was thinking right now, knowing he’d be up. How all your friends see you. Would they see you any differently today?

But there came the cost of not showing up, and them possibly figuring out you were hurt by yesterday. Then you holding in your crying the afternoon before was pointless, because they’d all know you’re a baby who makes her friends feel bad. God you hated how anxiety made every decision feel like a crappy one.

But you decided to go to school, prove to yourself that you were brave and not stupid. Even if you still secretly planned to avoid Hellfire as much as possible. Wherever physically, and in places like shared classes with Eddie (in which being the only two to share desks previously always seemed like a blessing), and lunch with all of them, you’d just have to practice avoidance by being quieter.

Unfortunately, none of this was on the table for you.

You got out your moms car and started to walk up to the school doors, busting through the ones closest to your lockers like you did every day, only for your heart to freeze and constrict in your chest, at seeing a pained looking Eddie leaning against your locker.

He was looking every which way, peering over most students heads. And you quickly made the decision to let autopilot run free on your body so you could continue your usual walk up, before Eddie could see you just stood stiff staring at him. Not weird at all. You trudged on.

Eddie’s face lit up when he saw you, but not in the usual happy way. It was more of a relieved look this time. He waved you over though, his curled hand raised above people but not shouting for your attention, which was a bit lower profile for the metal head than usual. You managed a small smile, taking a breath you knew you’d need, as Eddie managed to give a smile that looked all to much like your own as you swanned closer. “Hey princess.” He breathed out, calmer than he looked before.

As much as that nickname made your heart beat faster, you were distracted by the fading smell of smoke on him, and a small frown twisted onto your features, as Eddie only usually smoked right before classes when he was stressed, and needed a cigarette. Oh no, you hoped he was okay.

Eddie pretty much blocked you off from the rest of the school goers, and the world, as you got to your locker. Scooting over because he was literally leaning on yours, his hand moving to rest one to the left, but his entire body leant behind you, a breath as relieved as his smile leaving his lips as he could finally look over you. “I’m so glad you’re in today.”

Your face burned, heart swelling and tingly.

“I mean, I was worried you weren’t gonna show. I was totally gonna ditch and steal your neighbours ladder to check up on you though, if you didn’t.”

You heart was palpitating now, your lips opening into a small fish like shape as you blinked furiously, charmed. Eddie would’ve climbed through your window to check up on you if you’d missed school? How long was he worrying about you? How long had he planned that?

The gesture was so sweet, too sweet to you, electricity stormed through your stomach and your legs, not sure whether to smile or bury everything down deeper because you knew negative feelings were still being held back by a very thin damn. You turned to your locker, keeping a side eye on Eddie as you spoke, organising your books. “I’m fine. I promise. Why wouldn’t I be Eddie?”

It didn’t sound like you were faking. But that’s because it didn’t come out sounding causal at all. Like you weren’t even trying to be convincing. It sounded like you truly didn’t mean any of that and the both of you knew it too well.

’Maybe he just wanted to skip school’ floated briefly through your mind.

Eddie clicked his tongue, unseen to you, running his sweaty palms against the skin and denim of his ripped black jeans. “Well, after yesterday, you seemed a bit upset. Which was fair. I know they were just messing around because you’re their friend, but the guys were being total assholes and losers.”

Fair? Eddie thought you were okay being upset? You knew it was true, realistically. Of course you were allowed to feel upset. But it just felt so... comforting, to have Eddie confirm that for you in his own way, without any prior prodding. It was just a genuine declaration of how he felt.

“O-Oh.”

That wasn’t being hidden from Eddie. The crowd of pupils and teachers was thinning, but Eddie still drew closer, a shield against all those people, the noise of outside the two of you. People could be mean to you guys, mostly him, and he hated the fact people were only mean to you because you were friends with him, so he just wanted a break from that so he could focus on you right now. His face furrowed, already fallen like before he’d even seen you, lips twisting every which way and being bitten on the inside.

“W- uhh, thank you. That’s really nice of you... But yeah, um, I’m fine. No need to worry, honest!”

“Are you being honest though?”

Eddie leant closer and his breath on the nape of your neck drew a loud shudder of a gasp. You turned around quickly, only to be even more intimated at his determined look, now you two were front to front. Your back closed your locker for you, bag dead by your shoes.

“Uhhhh I-“

Eddie put his thumb to your lips, his hand following after and oh so gently cupping your chin. You couldn’t even breathe at this point, too scared to, and Eddie had this geuinine look in his eyes, emotions full in the dark brown, that you didn’t know what to do with. “Y/n please talk to me. You’re my best friend, right? I know you were lying yesterday when you laughed with the guys and I don’t think...” Eddie struggled when he didn’t let his heart run with the words, tongue flicking against his lips as it usually did, while his thumb still graced yours. “I don’t think they were playing along with me.”

In Eddie’s head it made sense. But it had yet to be translated to you. Instead, it was taken as wrong. “Oh? And what game were you playing?” You spoke, lightly unable to avoid brushing against his warm finger.

“No I’m not playing a game I just mean...” Eddie sighed, his brown puppy eyes so sad, as they held yours. Everyone had gone to class now, no one bothering to remind you two of the last bell. “I mean the guys and I... no fuck, hold on.” Eddie inhaled through his teeth, his hand finally leaving your face, which at least allowed you to breathe, but made you feel solemn and hollow at the same time.

Eddie was level with you. Looking like the normal boy you knew he was, who could feel unsure, and scared, and nervous. His ringed hands wrung together, swearing to himself as he tried to hold your eyes in his, desperate for you to stay right now. “I think- I mean I know, I see you differently than them...”

Eddie’s hand braced his chest as he said that, staying splayed there over his white Hellfire shirt. Meanwhile you were overlooking your flustered crush, rolling your shoulders as you exhaled unsurely through your nose. It made you nervous having a one on one conversation with Eddie that was so serious. No distractions. And seeing him so flustered and open was a vulnerable side you’d seen before, but not when you both felt this exposed, with something you were so hesitant to say. You bit your lip, only realising for a split second after that Eddie’s thumb had been on there, but you pushed that thought aside for later as you watched his tongue almost reaching the top of his nose again, sticking out like that nervously. About as on the spot as you felt.

“So... you see me as a swan and they see me as the ugly duckling?” You asked unsure, flinching back and feeling bad when Eddie winced harshly at your words. Shaking his head vigorously. Voice cracking a little through the first few words.

“No! Fuck no, that’s not. That’s not even true what they said y/n! They were just trying to find a joke and they locked onto it, they don’t think anyone looks like what they said, Jesus H Christ none of us look like animals. Least of all you y/n!”

You blinked away the last sentence, pinning it again for later, like your brain couldn’t be split between conflicting emotions, but unfortunately was picking the negative ones to experience now. The negative ones to experience with Eddie, and the positive ones for when you were alone. Christ couldn’t you be positive and happy when you were around people you loved instead today? “Look I’m not mad at them okay Eddie?” You spoke up. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to yell at them or something for me. I mean I really appreciate what you did for me yesterday, it made me feel nice but-“

“What? I’m not mad. Y/n-“ Eddie strode close and took your hands softly in his, flipping them over and grazing them in his own calloused touch, holding them warmly. “I’m not even trying to talk about them right now. They were being little dicks yesterday but they were just messing around. You know I know you’re beautiful don’t you? I mean, I do have eyes.” He chuckled softly only on that last sentence. The first and only time he hadn’t seemed serious apart from when he finally saw you. Almost like you relaxed him, made him feel good, better.

But now your brain was pushing away the positivity, that was becoming more in volume than the negativity, on purpose. Because it stuck onto one part that it could warp, and stab into you like a knife.

“Look Eddie I really appreciate you, and you know I love you.” You squeezed his hands softly, and Eddie looked like he was melting at your touch. His cheeks seemed softer, slightly pinker as they raised in an honest to god smile, medium sized, but perfect to the situation. And you both took a step closer to the other, not knowing each other would do the same. Still a parting, but wrists resting on your own stomachs. “But you don’t have to say that, I know yesterday you got kinda screwed over and tried to take it back and it’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad or-“

“Y/n stop!!” Eddie snapped, shocking you a little as you jumped. Eddie held your hands closer in apology, pulling your wrists so near your hands were in his stomach now. “I mean Jesus Christ! Y/n. You are beautiful. I meant it yesterday and I mean it now. And I’ve always known it. Maybe I should’ve said it more but...” Eddie used one conjoined hand to shift back his curls in his face, huffing out quickly. You could feel how hot his poor forehead was becoming as he moved so.

“You are beautiful. You’re gorgeous.” His brown eyes looked deeply into yours, open, and face contorted in a mixture of confusion, but being pure, and fully unendingly loving, as he held you close. Hands smoothing down your shoulders, shaking as they tried to keep you from running, tried to soothe you into his words. Like a charm roll a bard would throw for a restless dragon.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever been graced enough to lay my fucking eyes on.” His tongue darted out, eyes blinking sheepishly as he kept looking right at you. “Why don’t you see that, all the time?” Pain and confusion. That’s what was in his voice. Love and fear mixed into all his touches, hands smoothing over your back and shoulder blades in his need to fidget and be touching you, someone he always wanted to never not be touching, ever since the moment you first lit up when talking to him. That’s the only thing he ever saw when he looked at you, and he just couldn’t fathom a world where you somehow didn’t see the exact same thing, staring blatantly obviously back.

“Because I’m not!” You wriggled harshly out of his grip, the genuine hurt in Eddie’s eyes, only fuelling the burst of passion you were having. “I’m not anything! I’m not anything good, Eddie!” You were yelling, no one had seen you yell before, least of all Eddie. And Eddie teetered on nervous feet, worried about reaching out for you, but scared of what you’d do if he didn’t ground you.

Your breath felt ragged, head pounding. “I look at myself, I think about myself, and all I can feel, is how ugly, and disgusting I am.”

Pure and simple shock was spread across Eddie’s features. The kind of disappointed shock where he couldn’t understand how, or why you’d ever felt this way. Eddie was heartbroken.

“Whenever I remember this body I’m in, I want to cry because I feel like nothing good is deserved for someone as fucked up as this. I feel sick in my own skin. Every cell of me feels wrong, and that’s how I live. Terrified that someone’s going to look at me, someone who’s seen me a thousand times, and suddenly see this me that’s just a monster when you look again.” Your hand was to your heart, and you were crying now. Tears itching that disgusting skin people should wash their hands after touching. God you felt awful getting it out there, this was bullshit.

Anger was about to start seeping into Eddie too, just a little, grief and heartbreak was overtaking him right now. “Is this to do with what the guys said?”

You were hyperventilating now. Very aware of breaking down in front of your crush, and unable to breathe because you were crying so hard. Terror striking you from speaking the truth, because your best friend would see you that way now. Upon his words, a gasp bubbles through the saliva in your throat, but before you could answer Eddie finshed.

“I’m going to knock their teeth in.” Eddie felt hot tears in his eyes. He’d let you go home thinking about this. You were hurting. “I don’t care that they’re stupid, I’m going to tell them all that-“

“No!” You finally got close to Eddie again, your hands the only strong part of either of you as you lightly gripped his forearm. “No it’s not their fault.” You knew Eddie would only drag them somewhere and knock their heads together, but you didn’t want him guilting your friends, you didn’t want them hurt. You didn’t want them to know either. “It’s not them. I’ve always felt like this.”

Eddie felt lost. Eddie was crushed. His whole face collapsing to show it. His tears dripped onto his shirt, defeated by them. The white staining in the hollow hallway as he just looked at you, about as broken as you feel. ”But why?”

Eddie was genuinely confused. And it made your heart skip. To the point it felt so good, it was painful.

This whole conversation was painful. Your head dropped as your tears slunk to the floor, Eddie gripping your wrists in return, before pulling you warmly into a hug. Eddie’s embrace so tight, so scared to break you but needing you to stay, safe, with him, so you wouldn’t. Eddie would never let you break. He promised to himself now to always pick up your pieces before you could fully fall apart. Eddie would never let that happen, not on his watch. Not when you were under his oath. He sniffed, licking up his tears as he nuzzled his cheek into your head. Dreaded mumbles falling from his lips with small cries. Even his hips pressed to yours, his feet entangling thoughtfully, so you couldn’t fall, or retreat, just hugging you.

“I just. I don’t know.” You sobbed once. “I’m sorry.”

“Ssh. Don’t you dare apologise.” Eddie stroked the wetness away from your head, into his hand. “I’ll kick your ass.” He kisses your head instead, heart delighting, but not enough to give a smile, as you laughed at that. Hearing your small purr of a giggle was enough to tell himself to keep going, that he was doing an alright job.

“Sorry.”

Eddie pressed a hard kiss into your temple, growling lightly at you. Clearly still teasing you though. For once you didn’t have a single fear Eddie was mad at you. You could just breathe out laughs, even as you were crying. “I don’t know. Don’t you see that? See that... see an ugly duckling, in me?” You asked genuinely. For once your brain didn’t give you a million versions of the future, you just felt blank as you waited for his answer. It was peaceful.

As Eddie thought, he grazed against your head. Lips nibbling your skin, and your hair caught there, laughing lightly back when he felt another round of your chuckles, vibrating through his own chest, his warm hand smoothing down your back. He loved that feeling. He always wanted to make you laugh, but now he resolved to do so as he had your chest pressed against him, all the time. “I’ve... since the first moment I saw you, I’ve always thought you were jaw-droppingly stunning.” He revealed.

You felt conflicted, your heart pulled, brain just... not able to picture him seeing you like that. But you knew he wasn’t finished, and he held you impossibly closer, always being able to tell what you were feeling, even if it could be irritatingly accurate.

“But... the more I fell in love with you, the more and more I just kept seeing you as someone so perfect, it felt like the sun lit up her hair through every window on purpose. To shine down on her specifically. That the weather was made that day, so she could wear an outfit that made your legs, and stomach, and arms, and hands, look so desirable to hold. Someone who’s smile literally made the people around her smile for the rest of their entire day, and how that kinda magic could only be possible from you. That every day I’d see a different person spin around and do a double take at you with that look on their face, that look because they know they’ve just walked past the most beautiful girl in the entire world, and they’ll never get that chance again to brush past your shoulder, and meet-cute you, ever. And that I’m the luckiest man on this earth, because somehow, through your own kindness, and through the wind and the sun and our peers and the earth beneath our feet and stardust that made everything, I was lucky enough to be someone, who gets to see someone so beautiful, every single day.”

Eddie breathed out. His brown eyes warm in yours. His touch craving. His body glowing after all that.

And there were no words. A white sheet in your mind and a white glow over your body. You only knew you felt light, you felt... right. And your heart was full. And the thing that kept circling over and over in your mind, finally spoke out.

“You love me?”

Eddie’s breath collapsed in his laugh. Full and hearty, and the tears in his eyes were now spilt because of how they crinkled, smile spreading to his cheeks and his warm palms cupped your own cheeks, like he was so grateful to be able to hold you safe like this, like he was so happy to have your face beating in his hands. “Of course I do. I love you y/n. I’m madly in love with you! I love you so much it’s consumed every part of me and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you more than fucking anything! I love you more than anything y/n!”

“I love you too!” The air tasted different when you gasped, Eddie’s heart swelling was something you could see throughout his entire body, as his chest rose and his feet curled, and his eyes warmed, and his lips opened in such a smile. You took Eddie’s face in your own hands and everything fit together perfectly. He was so warm, so full of life, so Eddie, and so full of love for you. Eddie was the love of your life, and you could hold his tear ridden smile in your hands.

Eddie leant in close, using his hands to pull you further as his open lips spread, and your eyes fluttered stickily shut as you just smiled leaning in. Finally having his full, wet lips slotting against yours, and feeling each other’s smiles into the kiss, as you felt him kiss you like it was the best memory he’d ever make.

He pulled you in closer, almost tripping over your own feet as his hands on your cheek coerced you, but only one foot slipping, as you kissed him deeper. Lovingly moulding his lower lip that wanted to live in your mouth, and feeling his thick upper one kiss you back with so much deep adoration. Affection and love oozing out of Eddie as he kissed you happily. Sweet sounds coming from the both of you as your hands curled in his dark hair by his ears, and his cradled your nape and your lower back. Cheeks brushing and noses nuzzling, as you sweetly tasted each other, kissing like it was the only thing that was right in this world.

Finally, after stopping a little, and feeling Eddie’s nose nuzzle and brush at you in return, you pulled back. Eddie having literally stolen your breath away. You both backed up just an inch, just enough to see each other, and you were both beaming smiles through the warm sun rays. Eddie leant in to kiss you again, this time a small peck that you reciprocated, both his lips sweetly pressing against yours, and you could just tell they were Eddie Munson’s lips.

A noise of deep happiness and satisfaction finally broke the air and Eddie couldn’t help but nose at your cheek playfully again. “That was even better than I imagined.” He fondly grinned.

You tilted your head, wrapping both your arms around Eddie’s neck, as you felt a different energy, making a home in your new home. “You imagined kissing me before?”

Eddie went momentarily bright red. Before he remembered it was you he was with, and it was okay to be this vulnerable because you loved him too. “‘F course!” He sang. “Although minus the crying.”

You burst into laughter, Eddie following along as you rubbed at your drying tears, stomach fluttering as Eddie’s calloused fingers went to softly swipe at your cheekbones instead, the warm metal of his rings from how clammy his hands were, actually feeling nice as he brushed them away, “Pretty princess...” Getting at his own tears with his sleeve before you could return the favour. “Yeah.” He took both your cheeks in his hands again, before he leaned in to kiss you once more. Then your two red cheeks, and he leaned back and smiled, then both your eyes, still smiling, as he just had to look at you again “Can’t have my gorgeous girl crying. Never.”

Somehow, that didn’t start it again. Your lip wobbled but no tears came, only as Eddie kissed your nose fondly, was your movement to hold his face back, squeezing those adorable cheeks as you kissed all over his face. Every single inch got covered in your loving kisses, and feeling Eddie’s excited giggles fanning so close on your skin just made you kiss his lips over, and over, and over, and Eddie kiss yours, over, and over again. Your “I love you Eddie”’s being caught in between each and every kiss. Only stopping when Eddie pulled back to look at you, so happy in his hand, so he could smile at the sight of you. “My beautiful y/n.”

You two both skipped school that day eventually anyways. Only this time, as you walked hand in loveable hand down the empty hallways, not looking at each other only and purely because you were too busy kissing to have your eyes open, you were leaving to spend your first moments together as a couple.

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson hurt/comfort #protective eddie munson #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Stranger Things #Hellfire Club #fic #dustin henderson #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #slight miscommunication #crush Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fluff #negative body image issues #Eddie Munson/reader

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sunshine-jesse · 3 months

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In defense of Andrew Graves: Facing Yourself

Alt title: Andrew Graves: The Will to Plow Her

I think my analysis of Andrew is one of the best essays I've written so far. But since then, I think I've expanded my understanding of his character in a way that urges me to add on to my prior essay. What I intend on doing is further fleshing out my reading of Burial, and going deeper in detail on why I think Decay ends up panning out the way it does. This essay will end up sharing a lot of text with my prior one, but will add enough scattered throughout that I think it merits a complete reread instead of just scrolling down and seeing what's new.

I've focused a lot on Ashley in my past writings. She's my favorite character in the story (and depending on how episode 3 pans out, maybe ever) and I'm pretty mortified by how some parts of the fandom have reacted towards her, so I pretty much made it my life's mission to push back against that. From highlighting the ways Andrew mistreats her, to coming up with justifications for her behavior that aren't just being a manipulative bitch, I really wanted to prove that a more favorable picture of her could be painted than most were willing to.

But in doing so, I've left Andrew in the dust.

In highlighting his flaws and the ways he mistreats Ashley, I think I've implied a level of intentionality to his actions that I don't believe he has. When I say that Ashley did nothing wrong, it's in direct response to the idea that she holds the most responsibility and agency in how their dynamic plays out, when in reality, I believe she has very little. Most of her actions in-story are in reaction to a variety of stimuli that come directly from Andrew, that he has control over and are aware of how Ashley feels about. His refusal to use clear and direct language to deny her most toxic tendencies causes her more and more stress as time goes on, and instead of giving her clear answers he opts to be catty, passive-aggressive, or, at his worst, threatening. Never direct and never clear, except when establishing boundaries over his name after the choking scene. Andrew fails to help Ashley be better in some frankly depressing ways throughout the whole story, especially in their childhoods, so we never get to see where she'd fall short if given a better influence.

...

Kind of. More on that later!

In mentioning his thing about preferring to be called Andrew instead of Andy, I also implicitly mention one of the places where Ashley falls short in their dynamic and could stand to do better: recognition.

This scene says a lot. It's the most heartbreaking scene in the game, if you ask me, and probably the single most profound and well-written moment in the entire story. I could write a whole 2000 word essay on it alone, but I've already said most of what I have to say about it through what I've said in other essays, so I'll spare you all that. Instead, I'll use it to highlight something:

"I had fun."

Their dysfunction is fun to her. She's so used to abuse and alienation that even the most awful, stressful (as far as we know) route of the game is still fun to her. And that's not a sign of her being a secret evil sociopath or whatever; that's actually not abnormal behavior to develop for a lifelong victim of abuse. Those highs and lows, those strong emotional highs and lows are -addicting-. They're -fun.- Part of why abuse victims get into so many abusive relationships is because it's easy to pick up on those patterns of thought and take advantage of them, and the cycle of abuse is often furthered when a victim of abuse tries to draw out mutually abusive behaviors in someone with no interest in having that kind of dynamic.

This is where I'm willing to acknowledge Ashley's manipulative tendencies. Not just as a matter of controlling Andrew for its own sake, purely out of jealousy or possessiveness, but as a matter of trying to further the only dynamic she's ever known in her life. Better the devil you know, right?

That push and pull- that emotional rollercoaster- is all many of us know. And it's all Ashley knows. This dynamic is something she's so used to that she reacts incredibly harshly to any attempt to change it, because she doesn't know that things can be better. Because of this, she refuses to engage with who Andrew really is, and tells herself- and him- that she *hates* Andrew:

This scene is almost as heartbreaking as the above one in a lot of ways.

Andrew putting his foot down about the Andy/Andrew name dichotomy wasn't arbitrary and it wasn't just about his comfort. It was about Andrew giving a clear indication about what needs to happen for their relationship to improve. He's recognizing the cycle between them and wants to put a stop to it, because he's confident that things between them CAN get better and evolve into something healthier. Ashley, not understanding that their dynamic can get better, because their "fun" little push and pull of abuse is all she knows, rejects that. She rejects the unknown, and says- in Andrew's mind at least- that she'll never accept that new dynamic, nor will she accept who he really is.

Ouch. No wonder he looks so sad in that screenshot.

They have a conflict of understanding here, and I think it's fair to pin most of the responsibility on Ashley. Andrew was clear in what he wanted, and Ashley just... Didn't. She didn't see the importance of it ("...whatever that means in practice") and didn't really ask. This gap in communication, perfectly displayed in this scene, is likely what causes the Decay ending. He wants things to be better, and wants to treat Ashley better, and whether or not he understands the ways in which she communicates with him is in part what determines what he sees her as.

But there's a lot of evidence that he always wanted things to be better, that he always wanted to treat her better. But external factors have made it very, very difficult, and I think there are two key points in which he started to shed the importance of those external factors and seek that better relationship, both of which happening in the apartment: The killing of the warden and the 302 lady. In the first case, he was forced to do it to protect Ashley in a way he hadn't done before, or depending on how you look at it, since the death of Nina. But the intentionality was the key point here. After this point, he calls Ashley Leyley, which may or may not seem important at this point, but it's something I'll draw attention to later, so keep that in mind.

Next is the killing of the 302 lady, which is the much, much bigger point. We don't learn much about it until later on- as at first he just gives an excuse about the nail gun that doesn't line up with what we see on the map- but during the dream, it's revealed it was a calculated, intentional killing that he did to make sure there was no evidence left behind, and because Ashley (supposedly) would've wanted him to do it anyway. I say supposedly because Ashley herself doesn't seem to ever want Andrew to kill for her past Nina's death, because he only ever kills for her to defend one or both of them. If you want more evidence that violence for violence's sake isn't something she wants, look at this part in the final dream:

A knife isn't what opens the door, despite it being placed on the ground in that very map. While it seems obvious that the knife (violence) would be the key to solving the puzzle, it's put there explicitly to show you that it isn't. It's not what she wants; what she wants is a flower.

So, why is this important? Why am I centering Ashley- again- when this essay is supposed to be about Andrew?

It's because these two killings are when Andrew's self-delusion over who he really is starts to break down. It's still there, mind, as he still relies upon Ashley as an excuse to justify it, but, as well as what I've said before, the name ultimatum is an implicit confession that the normalcy he finds comfort in is starting to lose its grasp on him. There's a lot that's been said about Andy being something close to a "moral impulse" for Andrew, given his child self's reaction to Nina's death being the only thing he does that approximates a normal moral response to his and Ashley's actions, but if you do think that- which I think is a reasonable thing to think even if I don't necessarily agree- there's something you must also keep in mind:

-He- is the one who doesn't want to be called that anymore. -He- is the one who wants to let that moral impulse go, and Ashley is the one making it difficult.

That reading is assuming that Andy is a moral impulse, which I think is... either wrong or too simplistic. Every time I see that reading, it's from someone who's trying to paint him too sympathetically and absolve him of most moral responsibility. I also find it infantilizing to equate morality with childhood in such a way? But that's another tangent that I didn't sign up to talk about. What I do think, however, is that it's a useful framing device to display his own relationship with morality; the allegory to his child self doesn't have to be there for the general pattern to exist.

When Ashley starts to grill Andrew over the killing of the 302 lady, he gets mad. Very mad. Ashley sees it as pointless, as him covering his own ass, but he genuinely did it for her sake, because he thought that's what she wanted, and that it'd make her happy. But what makes her happy isn't violence- or any similarly extreme action for that matter- it's attention and validation. Something he's always reluctant to give her, despite the fact that he always chose her over the alternatives. But despite making that choice, it's always empty and meaningless, because in Ashley's mind, he never did it for her sake.

And hoo boy, does he not like it being framed like this.

He is perfectly willing to do whatever it takes to keep them happy and safe... but only for her sake. It has to be for her sake. He still needs that traditional role, and he still needs to have a narrative in which he's the good guy- a protector. Because it can't be for his sake. It can't be because that's what he wants. He has to uphold that romantic (in the literary tradition sense) ideal. His darkly romantic idealistic streak colors many of his actions and beliefs. This is most plainly visible in his quip about a double suicide being romantic, but it's also visible within the symbolism present within his dream, such as how he can only pave his own path in blood unless Ashley lights the way. It's visible within his appreciation for poetry, and it's visible with how the cultist within the dream speaks in Shakespearean English.

But the transient nature of this ideal is also revealed within this dream, because there's never a cohesive, guided path, even with Ashley there to light it up. Contrary to Ashley's dream, where you literally have maps showing you where to go, Andrew's dream has many more dead ends and no map to guide him. The symbolic role he acts out gives him no clarity, and there's no overarching narrative; merely a bunch of disconnected symbols.

This is contrasted with Ashley's dream, which has narratives so clear that the story literally gives the dream an episode title.

In a sense, he wants to view himself as an actor acting out a role in a story. He wants his life to be poetic, to represent something greater, and to have a cohesive narrative. This is why he's so disconnected from his true desires: He's more concerned with acting as a representative of an ideal than a person with agency. But every time the mask drops, every time he stops acting, his true self becomes visible. He naturally settles into being comfortable around Ashley, in treating her with warmth and kindness, and their banter becomes much less toxic. As intent as he is on acting out his role, it does nothing for him, and as his dream sequence shows, it doesn't even form a cohesive narrative, because he can't act one out. It's too contrary to who he really is, and what he really wants. But that idealization doesn't just apply to himself, it also applies to Ashley. Specifically, who Ashley is, vs who he wants her to be.

In his unique dream sequence, he sees two versions of Ashley; the child version of her- Leyley- and the adult version of her- Ashley. And the differences in the ways he interacts with the two of them are stunning. Leyley is an obstinate, annoying child. She's the one he NEEDS to take care of, and he hates that. He hates Leyley for what she did for his childhood. He hates that he needs to provide for her. He has the option of trying to kill her, even, over something as small as a candle!

But in the room with all the murders, the gilded cage, he sees Ashley as an adult. This version of Ashley is stuck in a closet that he himself has to open- and to choose to see. Their interactions are calm and friendly. She teases him a bit, sure, but she's still helpful, and they have fun together. He doesn't need her, and she doesn't need him. He needed Leyley- needed the candle- but here, there are other limbs strewn about for him to take. And, crucially, he doesn't even have the option to kill this Ashley for one of the limbs.

And during the choking scene, he lets her go the moment she acknowledges that he doesn't need her anymore. This is the first time we know of that he seems comfortable enough to set a clear boundary, which is acknowledging that their prior dynamic is dead and that they're now Andrew and Ashley, not Andy and Leyley. It's a bit late to express a clear boundary -after- literally acting like he was going to kill someone, but it's the first time we know of that he sets a clear standard for what, in his mind, would improve his relationship with Ashley.

After all, what he wants is to want her, not need her. He wants Ashley for Ashley's sake. Not for what she can provide him. He doesn't even need her for sleep, he just wants her. But Ashley has trouble acknowledging this, because he's never before shown that WANT. Only a NEED. She keeps trying to find ways to make him need her, because she's never seen what his desire for her is really like. She's only ever seen him desiring someone else, someone other than her.

She's only ever seen him as Andy, because she's never truly seen Andrew, only the violence he can inflict on others. But Andrew can see both:

He can see Leyley, the needy, bratty child who always needs his attention, that he needs to provide for. The one he hates and wants to get rid of. The one he kills for to protect.

And he can see Ashley, the one who engages in friendly and cute banter with him. Who comforts and shows him physical affection. The one he loves. The one he kills for to make happy.

He just can't choose which one he wants to see. Every outside influence- from his parents, to Julia, to Nina- makes him see her as Leyley. Ashley herself makes him see her as Leyley too, whenever she brings up all the things he did for her, and calls him Andy, his child self, instead of Andrew, his current self. And as long as he sees that child, he feels like one too, and can never give Ashley anything that comes from the heart.

But he really, really wants to see Ashley as an adult. He wants to take pride in her, how much she's grown, and how driven and competent she really is.

But god damn, does that bitch ever make it hard, because there IS no real difference between Ashley and Leyley. She's grown and changed over time, taking more adult (and stereotypically feminine) responsibility upon herself, but the fact that her temperament and personality hasn't changed much obfuscates that growth. When you talk to Ashley in the closet during the dream after getting the limb, Andrew asks Ashley to come out of the closet, but she refuses to come out because he won't invite Leyley over to play, which is a pretty strong metaphor for how he interfaces with different aspects of Ashley's personality and refuses to accept others. But the reality is that he needs to accept both, or rather, see her whole self as Ashley, rather than just the parts he likes.

In the end, it's him who has to make the choice how to see her. Ashley can only see what she's been shown, but Andrew can choose.

And in the basement scene, he makes that choice.

If Ashley refuses to leave him alone with their parents, that's it. In one of the most critical and important moments of his life, she couldn't give him the space needed to make up his own mind. She couldn't treat him as an adult. She couldn't see him as Andrew. If she does give him that choice, she chooses to acknowledge that Andrew is an adult who can be trusted to make his own decisions, even though she (perhaps foolishly) believes that this choice lines up with her own interests. And frankly it does either way, but in accepting their mom's offer, her chooses to see her as Leyley once and for all. He chooses not to reciprocate what Ashley showed him. He does it because he needs to, not because he wants to. Because it's his duty, not his desire.

This is what results in the Decay ending. Through his inability to see Ashley as an adult, he surrenders his agency and views all of his actions as an extension of his responsibilities, his role, which he no longer wishes to uphold. He dissociates fully from who he really is, acting in accordance with that disconnected, barely-cohesive narrative that exists only within his mind. The game starts to resemble the heartwrenching tragedy that many seem to take for granted that it is, as their dynamic fully doubles down on its painful toxicity. And, in an example of a poetic book end, Ashley's dream shows a double suicide, closing the book on their tragic tale.

It's tragic. It's heartwrenching. It's poetic. It's beautiful.

...Except it's not. Not at all.

It's actually fucking stupid, pointless, and brutal, and Burial shows us that. When we view their spiral as beautiful, we project the same darkly romantic ideal that Andrew possesses onto the story.

But the actual reality is horrifying.

Ashley spends most of Decay terrified of Andrew, the one person she found comfort in. He acts cold, distant, and aggressive towards her, showing pointless cruelty instead of any warmth. All she wants is comfort; all she wants is to not die. She doesn't want to engage in this death spiral at all, and, in her dream sequence, shows none of the same willingness to die alongside Andrew that Andrew does with her. The moment we stop focusing on the end of the Decay dream sequence, which has very striking imagery, and if you choose not to shoot, one of the most beautiful scenes in the game, we can see it for what it really is:

A scared animal running away from a predator.

The moment you see Decay through Ashley's eyes, and not the perspective of some romantic ideal, Decay becomes terrifying, tense, and painful. There is no catharsis to be had in this tragedy. It's easily avoidable as long as Andrew chooses to engage with reality, and not the empty promises of his mother and incoherent narrative of his ideal.

Finding beauty and meaning in tragedy is how we cope with the harshness of reality. But there is no coherent narrative to the tragedies we experience, just like there's no coherent narrative to the ideal Andrew wishes to uphold. It's something we create- that he creates- but it's not something that actually exists.

And when Andrew casts aside his desire for that ideal, and the responsibilities it shackles him to, it grants him clarity that he never had before. He sees the world for how it really is, and acknowledges that nobody- the least of which their mother- is as different from Ashley as they pretend to be.

They're no better than her, and he's tired of people pretending that they are. People are all the same, no matter what ideals they try to uphold and represent. They still sacrifice others in the name of advancing themselves, still punch down whenever they can, and still lay blame on those beneath them rather than try to take control of their lives. They just use those ideals to justify themselves, but Ashley, and now Andrew, reject even the need for that justification.

This is why I believe the story is nihilistic. Not in that it asserts the inherent meaninglessness of life, but in that it grapples with the ideals we uphold and how they obfuscate the reality of the world we live in. The story, intentionally or not, highlights how ideals are often but a pretense we use to justify what we were likely going to do regardless, and how holding to them too strongly can lead to our ruin- and how monstrous they make us look to those who do not share them.

Consequently, this is how I view the part of the fanbase who thinks Decay is a good ending.

(the characters themselves represent existentialism rather than nihilism but i couldn't really fit that analysis in here without it feeling forced so i might cover that another time)

From that point on, their relationship becomes a lot more friendly, lighthearted, and playful. They ironically start acting more like children, but to quote CS Lewis:

"Critics who treat adult as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence."

He's not ashamed of being playful with Ashley, or showing affection towards her. He's grown up. He finally sees her, and himself, as an adult- although he still doesn't show that in full until much later on (more or that later). But in Decay, he still sees her as a child, and to an extent, probably himself. Let's compare the ways in which he reacts to being called Andy. In Decay, he lashes out at Ashley and gets angry, even threatening her. But in Questionable Burial, he calmly says that Andy is dead and doesn't need Ashley's comfort, but still tries to reassure her that she's still needed. He's not ashamed of or hostile towards their prior dynamic, because he's grown past it. He still acknowledges Ashley's need to feel needed, but here, he recognizes its importance to her, whereas he was hostile towards it before.

It's a display of respect towards her feelings.

This interaction doesn't happen in the Sane ending, however. He doesn't play games with her and is just a lot less fun to be around all together. Why is that? Because he still hasn't yet shaken viewing Ashley as Leyley there. He still views her as a burden, as someone who needs taking care of. He's calmly accepted that, too, mind you, but he lacks respect for her because she's still a child, in his mind. But in Questionable?

The vision did more than just make him extremely embarrassed and lay his deepest desires bare. It forced him to recognize Ashley as an adult. When choosing between "Never" and "Never say never," if Never is chosen, the burden of thought is lifted off of him. But if Ashley chooses "Never say never!", he has to reckon with the fact that Ashley is an adult, someone who can consent to those kinds of things. Someone who MIGHT. Someone who has agency, and can make her own decisions. And more importantly… someone who can trust him to make his own.

Whether he desires sex or not is secondary; he's always had those feelings and has always been ashamed of them. But now that the part of him where that shame came from is dead and buried, there's no childish impulse to grow up. There's no attachment to the hate and bitterness he had before. Look at what he worries about when he picks up that she's uncertain or confused about who he is now:

It's her feelings.

He wants to be fun to be around. He wants to make Ashley happy. He loves her, and not as a romantic interest or even as a sibling. He loves her independent of all that baggage.

He loves her as a person.

Their relationship runs contrary to societal ideals in some pretty huge ways. So contrary, in fact, that it's hard for some to accept it as anything good, that it can ever be best for the people involved. It's incestuous. It involves them killing and eating their parents. It involves them distancing themselves so much from society that it's hard to believe they'll ever fit in it again. It's chaotic, it's messy, it's codependent, and maybe even toxic. And yet, here they are. They're coexisting. They're happy. They're healing. They're navigating the world in the only way they can: together.

Meanwhile, in Decay, Andrew refuses to allow himself to get closer to Ashley. He surrenders all agency to her, buys into his own narrative, drinks his own Kool-Aid, and may or may not condemn one or both of them to death in the process. Like it or not, the only path where Andrew takes ownership of his life is the one where he's closest to his sister. It's the one where he decides where they will go next, the one where he decides his own feelings matter, and acts in accordance with what he wants instead of how he thinks he should act.

His agency, his freedom, and his growth don't happen in spite of his codependency; they're happen because of it. They can't grow alone. They can't heal alone.

In reading the story, one must interrogate how important those societal ideals are in the face of the realities of what makes people happy. Are those ideals worth upholding in spite of this? Can we really allow people to fall through the cracks in the name of social norms? Can we blame people for taking rash actions when the social contract has failed them?

Or are we so blinded by those ideals that we can't see that people can be happy while blatantly disregarding them?

All I know is that in Burial, Andrew, having cast aside normalcy, now appears to be truly happy for the first time in his life.

Who are we to take that from him?

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #ashley graves #tcoaal #gaming #gravecest #tcoaal essay

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dansevilpianotea · 10 days

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who do you think is more Crowley coded and who is more Azira coded out of dnp?

i set myself hourly notifications ever since you send the ask and it still took me this long to answer, im so sorry 😭

to answer your question:

It might seem like obvious that dan is crowley coded and phil is azira coded because of their aesthetics and personality but stating that as that is too simple for me. lets break it down:

dan is like crowley in the obvious sense of having that edgy aesthetic and always needing to question things while phil is the one with the light aesthetic who enjoys what is happening despite the problems it has. just watch them play the game of life.

this reminds me of this quote from a book ive read for uni which really stuck with me:

so yea, dan is the social scientist who points out what most people miss and phil is the one who tells us that we shouldn't wallow in defeat of it but make our own meaning out of it. and we need both! they are like ying and yang, like crowley and aziraphale in that way.

crowley who questions heaven and thusly falls, but then doesnt stop questioning hell because he doesnt see the world in black and white, good actions and bad actions.

i think dan for a long time was not like that. i say this with the utmost respect but if you look back, his branding was usually self deprecating jokes and at least to me personally it felt like his perspective was pessimistic. he always made sure to leave a positive message but to me it felt like a wish for a better future, not a feeling of certainty that it will be better.

Phil on the other hand is very much like that:

Phil is like aziraphale and me in the sense that he gets irrationally worried about things,

but it is dan who literally did a tour about his worries of the world ending, with branding and all:

and yet:

phil and crowley both have that rational optimism, the sense that things will be okay. but aziraphale does not give up in-spite of the odds being against them. in s1 he refuses to run away to alpha centauri because he believes that they should stay and fight. that there is still hope. he does not accept that the world will end. but its crowley who sparks the idea of aziraphale raising the antichrist with him. its aziraphale who tells angel crowley of armageddon , and its why crowley gets upset and questions the almighty.

so my point is that phil has aziraphale's light aesthetic vibes and his fear of near doom but crowley's certainty that everything will be okay in the end despite it.

dan on the other hand has crowley's edgy dark aesthetic, his cynicism and sense of questioning belief systems, but also aziraphale's determinism to fight what he is sure is a losing battle/the end of the world because he wants to believe that it is possible that everything will be okay (that being the message of wad/ywgttn/big/etc...)

i want to talk a bit about 'dark/light polarity'. what we mean by that is two sides of the same coin. yin and yang:

☯️

they depend on each other, they interconnect and intertwine. be it real people or fictional characters, it is never a clear black and white binary, because what the characters have something that the other lacks and when they come together they become a whole. plato said humans once had 4 legs and feet, and then got split in half by zeus to punish us to live our lives yearning to be connected with the other half of our soul/coin, our soulmate. they carry sth of each other within them because there are shards that got broken in the middle when the being was split and were forced to choose sides.

so even tho it might seem like dan is more like crowley coded and phil is more aziraphale coded because of their light/dark aesthetic, there's many things of both in each of them and thats what makes it interesting and real to us.

#sorry if this is an unsatisfying answer but thats what you get when you send an ask to a philosopher /lg #*/lh #dan and phil #daniel howell #dnp #amazingphil #wad #good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ask

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dramadramallama · 3 months

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Love Supremacy - brain rot part 2

As Myung-ha rejects the idea of a predetermined fate, he sets off to change it for Yeo-woon, who’s mirroring him in every way. When we first meet our Myung-ha, we also meet the most mysterious character of the show. Is it Death? A guardian angel? God? Whatever it is, he knows more than Myung-ha, and has some wisdom to share. Thus, a sunbae.

The fact that he is represented as some sort of Author is not lost on me, but I do appreciate that his identity is vague enough to be interpreted many different ways. No religious connotations, no punishment, no judgment, we cheered.

In theory, Myung-ha finds the idea that some people just don't live happy lives unfair. He doesn’t like the story’s ending (he doesn’t like his own ending either, as he regretted it in the last moments) so he sets off to change it through this new opportunity (the Game). When asked, "would you do things differently, if it were you, then?" he unequivocally answers that he would, that he would make it happen differently. Looking back, it’s clear his sunbae is not asking hypothetically. The underlying conversation is obviously about his own life being re-written, not (just) Yeo-woon’s.

1. Mirrors/Symmetry ▶️2. Fate, Free Will, and Happiness 3. Game/Reality

So in theory, he’s all for doing things differently, but in practice, though, it's not that easy. He’s struggling not to make the same mistakes, which is represented with the in-game instability. When Myung-ha makes progress, when he both shows love and accepts it in return, the game (life) is able to go on in spite of the glitches.

Golden moments keep us going, literally.

After experiencing some system errors, some setbacks, his sunbae comes back to the rescue with some more not-so-hypothetical questions.

Through the lens of a loving relationship, he hopes to show Myung-ha that the choices we make out of despair are still our own (free will). It’s a direct parallel to Myung-ha deciding to cut his life short (break up, no pain, no hard feelings), instead of living longer (delaying it, enduring the hurt, getting scars, coping with regrets).

Myung-ha is not quite ready, and has trouble understanding what is being implied. Because he hasn’t reached a state of self-love, he unknowingly doubles down on the fate he’s assigned himself once, and chooses to repeat it.

He chooses to give up (again), he chooses to avoid the suffering (again), which he associates with unhappiness. It takes just as much courage to live as it does to die, and happiness doesn't exempt you of pain, but Myung-ha doesn’t know it just yet. He falls back into his old habits, and symbolically gives up staying longer in the game (of life), worried about Yeo-woo’s happiness more than his own.

After working tirelessly to get Yeo-woon to happiness, and becoming the reliable person Yeo-woon can lean on, he hits the wall of his own contradictions. The relationship is uneven, the choice too biased. The gap widens, the fragility of the whole thing is apparent: the game is bugging, as Myung-ha doesn’t align his needs/desires with his actions/reactions.

Not only does he refuse Kyung-hoon’s and Yeo-woon’s offer to lean on them (he hurt his leg following a system error), he also struggles accepting his own feelings. In spite of the time running out, he fails to tell Yeo-woon he loves him properly, retains important info about himself, and breaks up with him in the exact same location where they share their first kiss (loud wailing sounds of poetic cinema)

Myung-ha’s core issues are bursting out in the open (increasingly alarming error messages appear): because he doesn’t let himself be loved, he can’t love properly. Because he can’t lean on others when he needs it, he fails to be there when it matters.

Myung-ha misguidedly keeps choosing a sad ending for himself when the whole game, his whole life, is fighting to give him a happy one.

That’s not to say his entire journey until now was in vain. In fact, Myung-ha is incredibly resilient (child...❤️), and opens himself to change at the end. He’s just missing a piece of the puzzle for it all to fit into place. It is, in fact, quite a big pill to swallow that happiness doesn’t happen to you passively like destiny, but instead is something that you actively choose. Hell, I struggle to even comprehend or believe it, tbh.

The game being littered with questions, answers, and possible choices/options is a visual representation of our everyday pondering, and choice making. What goals are we setting for ourselves? Myung-ha's sunbae is there to remind Myung-ha that if we refuse the existence of fate, then we should make use of your all-powerful free-will.

At first, he blindly runs towards the game’s main goal--happiness--and doesn’t realize you can’t find it at the finish line. If he only wants happiness for someone else and not himself, why would he get a different ending? By the end, he learns that happiness can, possibly, be found on the way there, though.

The hand, the love he extends to Yeo-woon one-sidedly in episode 1, he accepts it when it is returned in episode 8.

The story comes full circle, but doesn't repeat itself; he gets a different ending through a new start.

From a pure stylistic standpoint, I'm obsessed with repeated lines/motifs in media because they give a lot of rhythm to a story. Like a poem or a song.

The story reaches its final stanza, he listens to himself, and resolves the error, his own contradictions. He found the will to fight for happiness, a way to love himself, chooses to stay longer, chooses Yeo-woon, chooses to maybe suffer along the way a little, but he chooses life.

Notice how the question does not have Myung-ha's answer this time. Now, we choose.

Life is not an express lane, and if you're short 5,000 won to take the bus, or if the bus breaks down on the highway, you might have to fight and make a run for it. It'll suck. But it's not in vain; you might just get rewarded with the happy moments you created for yourself. Myung-ha does.

It is such a hopeful, kind, gentle message.

I am alive too.

#love for love's sake #love supremacy zone #lfls #love for love's sake meta #kdrama #OOOOOOOOOOOF #ok one part left and i'll shut UP

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kittykatkatelol2 · 10 months

Text

"The Letter" Jegulus Oneshot

prompt by @jegulus-microfic (prompt: letter)

James couldn't believe it.

'Oh god how I could have been so stupid???'

To have left the damned letter somewhere Regulus could find-

Gods he felt dumb.

James watched as Regulus read through the letter; oh how he wanted to crawl in a hole and never show his face ever again.

He felt sick to his stomach, watching Regulus read his love confession, that he thought he threw out.

'stupid stupid stupid gods how am I so dumb??'

* * *

'James Potter.. no way, no fucking way that boy loves me. No fucking way. This is one of their bullshit pranks so I can make a fucking fool of myself. No way in fucking hell could James fucking Potter love me.'

Regulus thought to himself, his face remaining blank as he continued to read through James's letter.

Regulus's disbelief continued to grow and grow, as he read.

He was convinced this was some sick joke.

That this was a prank of the sorts.

Something, anything, it just couldn't be real.. could it?

Regulus refused to get his hopes up.

He was not letting James fucking Potter of all people have that kind of hold on him.

* * *

'OH MY GODS WHAT IS THIS MAN THINKING??? DOES HE LOVE ME?? DOES HE HATE ME?? HOW DOES HE HIDE THIS SO WELL- OH FUCK HE'S WALKING OVER I'M SO SCREWED-'

"Oh heyyy Regulus- Um what's up-"

"What the fuck is this, Potter," Regulus spat at James, like his last name was some sort of curse; putting the letter in front of James's face.

'Shiittt-'

"I um-"

"Is this real, Potter? Or are you just fucking with me. Answer fucking truthfully." Regulus snapped at James, he was not having any games be played.

If it was a prank, Regulus would not be laughed at.

If it was real, Regulus- well, Regulus didn't want to think about what would happen if this was indeed real.

"I uh-"

"I am waiting, Potter."

James gulped, it was now or never.

"It was um.. it was real..." James mumbled, his eyes on the floor as he cheeks turned a light pink colour.

Regulus stood there, silently, trying to process what James had said.

"You.. you like me, Potter? In like a nonplatonic way?" Regulus asked hesitantly, his eyes fixed on James.

"...yeah."

Regulus was, for the first time in his life, speechless.

Regulus clears his throat, before speaking.

"I um.. okay," was all Regulus could say.

James felt his heart break.

Regulus didn't feel the same way..

"Well, um, I will see you around, Potter."

Regulus turned and left quickly.

James felt like crying.

Regulus, too, felt like crying.

James looked down in the letter in his hands, willing himself not to start crying at the dinner table.

Then he saw the writing change.

From a love confession in James's handwriting, to something else in Regulus's.

'Meet me underneath the Quidditch bleachers, tonight, eleven pm. We need to talk.'

. . .

It was eleven at night, as James walked to underneath the bleachers at the Quidditch stadium.

"Gods there you are, I was freezing my ass off waiting for you."

James nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound of Regulus's voice filling the otherwise silent night air.

"R-Regulus?"

"Yes, idiot. We need to talk."

James visibly gulped.

"A-about..?"

"Us."

James's eyebrows rose at that.

'Us? what does he mean "Us"??'

"I feel the same way, Potter. I.. I just don't like showing bullshit like love. Its complicated. But I assure you, once you know me, you won't love me."

Regulus pauses before continuing.

"But I am willing to give, um, us, a shot.. if you are."

James's mouth falls open.

He was not expecting this.

"I um, yeah, I'd love to give us a shot.. I- I didn't know you felt that way, Reg.."

Regulus shrugs.

"Hiding is what I do best. I'd be surprised if anyone guessed I ever liked you in any way other than 'obnoxious Gryffindor that hangs out with my brother'."

They both just kinda stand in silence, before Regulus walks over to James.

"May I?" Regulus asks, tilting his head up to properly face James; they were inches apart.

James nods and leans down before kissing Regulus.

"I have been wanting to do that for so fucking long."

Regulus mumbles as they pull apart after a minute or so.

"Me too."

The two stand in silence again.

"So what does this make us?"

"Complicated. I'm not ready for anything other than complicated."

James nods, he was perfectly fine with 'complicated', as long as he got to be with Regulus.

[Word count: 706]

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #james x regulus #regulus x james #james loves regulus #james potter #regulus black

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lonelyskeletonflower · 1 month

Text

Scar-crossed Lovers

my very first serious fanfiction, in English nonetheless lol. I wrote this last night after uni fueled by the power of hyperfixations (FOB's music) and the fact that I miss playing BG3 (I'm stuck + no time to play because of uni)

1,5k; spoilers for the end of the game. transmasc tav (they/them). based on FOB lyrics. hurt no comfort (okay a bit of comfort)

It was a rare, calm night, after a long, tiring day. The sky was clear, and the moon was big and comforting. The stars seem to shine brighter, lately, Astarion thought, as he lowered his gaze to look at the big wolf getting chased by Scratch around the camp. The big wolf, his druid boyfriend. He allowed a soft smile to form on his lips, knowing that the other companions were busy, except for Karlach, who was watching the wolf and the dog play with a delighted expression. Her presence next to him definitely wasn’t the reason why he felt so warm inside, despite his condition. No, that warmth in his chest and the exceptional brightness of the stars those nights were caused by his blooming feelings for Kieran, who had just sat next to him, panting, still in wolf form.

“Are you done playing for tonight, darling?” he asked, stretching his hand out to pet the wolf’s fluffy head. Kieran replied with a sweet canine smile, wagging their tail.

Sweet. Yes. Kieran was, indeed, quite sweet. And not just that; they were many things. Brave, for instance, always ready to face any danger on their path, and fierce in battle, and strong, and attractive, and compassionate, smart, sensitive, loyal, caring, good. Astarion hated how much of a good person they were, it was almost nauseating, at least when they first met. He knew people had taken advantage of their goodness their entire life, Kieran had told him about it with a pained smile on their pretty face, and yet the druid never really strayed from being good, from the desire to do good, to help people, even when they didn’t deserve it. That didn’t mean, though, that being used like that didn’t leave any emotional scars on their soft soul, and that was what made them strong. He hated and loved that at the same time. He loved Kieran, as reluctant as he was to admit it, even to himself. He’d never expected that, in the process of getting the druid to fall for him and win their protection, he would catch feelings for them, but there he was, in love with someone so infuriatingly good at heart.

He wasn’t the only one, of course, who felt something for the redhead. Kieran was so lovable and loving, they’d been with Karlach, and Wyll, and even Lae’zel couldn’t resist them, and he saw the way Shadowheart looked at them; Halsin, too, had let them know that they could drop by his tent anytime, and not just to talk about the Oak Father and other druid things. Nevertheless, Kieran longed for him. Astarion. The kind-hearted hero wanted to give their love to him, who was no hero and definitely not much of a good person. The fact that he refused to share them with anybody else, someone good like them, was certainly proof of his selfishness.

He petted the wolf some more, then wished Karlach good night and got up to go to his tent, followed by the wolf. They snuggled up together in Astarion’s bedroll.

“Could you stay like this, tonight?” asked Astarion. Kieran answered by wagging their tail.

It was much easier to be alone with his thoughts at night without seeing that sweet face in the dark. Even in the dark their goodness made them glow, a light as painful as the sun before the tadpole. But could he really live without light again?

“Dream sweet of me” he whispered, gently scratching the wolf between the ears. Kieran licked his cheek. Soon enough, they were softly snoring.

Astarion sighed. At first, he had thought they only desired his body, they were infatuated with that handsome face (he didn’t need to see his reflection to know that, because nothing could change his beauty… right?), just like his victims; but Kieran had shown him that they genuinely loved him for him, handsome face and nice body and perfect hair and scars and selfishness and dark past and being a vampire and- they loved everything about him, good and bad. They believed in his goodness, although he doubted there was any left in him, after everything Cazador had put him through.

He kept going back to that first night with the druid, after the party, how they went straight to his tent instead of spending the night with Karlach, or Lae’zel, or Halsin, and how they kept coming back, how they kept choosing him over everybody else. Kieran was pretty messed up, too, to love someone like him, even after knowing Astarion’s plan to seduce them so they would protect him. How did they manage to remain a sunbeam, since they were so messed up? That was a mystery. But it was only fair that two messed up people had ended up together. Maybe they deserved each other.

Maybe, he thought, cautiously, I could get used to this. To their love.

He pressed a kiss against his boyfriend’s head and buried his hands in their fur. Having Kieran sleep in his tent, whether in an animal form or in human form, made him feel safe. An unfamiliar feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

Yeah, I could really get used to this.

It was over. Cazador was dead. He had ascended. He was free. Free! He didn’t have to hide any longer. He didn’t have to live in fear anymore. He had power and everything he wanted – everything but one thing. The only thing that motivated him to find Cazador again and kill him: Kieran.

After Astarion had completed the ritual, he thought everything would be perfect: control, power, love, and no more fear. But Kieran had left him, saying that they thought they were more than a pet to Astarion. And they were so much more than a pet to him, they were the reason he finally felt alive after two hundred years. Weren’t they supposed to be aeterna amantes? And yet he couldn’t stop them from leaving.

He could live in the light again, forever, yet he preferred the darkness. There was no point in being in the light without his light. His sunbeam.

And suddenly, there they were. Kieran was there, right in front of him, in their human form. Astarion wanted to run to them, hug them, kiss every single one of their freckles, greet them with “hello, my sweet”. Instead, he waited for them to say something.

“Astarion” they said. Their eyes were filled with sadness. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah” he agreed. I miss you, he wanted to say. “What brings you here?”

Kieran opened their mouth to say something, then changed their mind and closed it again, only to clear their throat and finally speak.

“I wanted to talk.”

“Talk” Astarion smirked. “What about? Regretting your decision?”

The druid tortured their bottom lip with their teeth for a moment.

“I don’t regret it, seeing how you are now. Who you are” they replied, locking eyes with their former lover.

“I’ve always been like this. This is who I’ve always been. And you knew it.”

Kieran shook their head, red hair gently falling on their face.

“You’re not the person I knew. You’re not the man I fell in love with anymore” they said, calmly wiping away a solitary tear that rolled down their cheek. Astarion felt incredibly angry and incredibly sad at the same time.

“I don’t think he ever existed” he retorted, flatly. “You just wanted to see something that wasn’t there.”

The hero of Baldur’s Gate looked extremely dejected.

“I guess you’re right. I never learn my lesson, uh? I’m sorry.”

Astarion looked away, uncomfortable.

“I still think that hiding somewhere behind this image you’ve created for yourself there’s the Astarion I love” Kieran added, slowly. “I love you. I cannot be with you, but I do love you. And I’m yours ‘til the earth starts to crumble.”

The vampire laughed bitterly, choking on tears that he refused to cry.

“We’re scar-crossed lovers, forever” he said. “These scars we bear will always keep us apart, no matter how used to them we get.”

Kieran took one step closer. Astarion did too. Their lips met one last time. Their faces were wet.

“I thought you believed in having control over your life” whispered the druid, but they didn’t mean it. They knew their relationship was doomed.

“I thought you believed anything can be healed or fixed” whispered back Astarion, and he found himself meaning it.

“What happened to ‘scar-crossed lovers, forever’?”

“What happened to aeterna amantes?” Astarion smiled weakly, gently wiping away Kieran’s tears. “I’m struggling to exist with you… and without you, darling.”

It was the redhead’s time to laugh with desperation and a tiny bit of hope.

“Is this our fate? A relationship that will never work, but a love that will always bring us back to one another?” they asked, looking for Astarion’s eyes. In the darkness of the place, they glowed with love… and a tiny bit of hope.

“Oh, my sweet.��

They embraced each other, feeling finally safe and at home again, as the dawn of a new day brought a few soft rays of sun onto them.

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danses-with-dogmeat · 1 year

Note

My favorite author is back, and I miss your writing, mate. Happy holidays and congratulations on 1.5 followers! You deserve it because you write with all your heart

How about ☠️🦖 DEATHCLAW “How could you do this to me?” (Or any prompt, it's fine) for Colonel Hsu? I want to see something sad happen to him

Thank you very much!

Hey bruderup!! 😁 Omg, stawp 😭 thank you so much, my friend!

And yessss, thank goodness an ask with Hsu, idk what it is, but I love writing for this guy. <3

I hope you like it!

"Tell me it's not true, Six." The words were firm, he was a man giving an order, but there was hurt there as well. A partner pleading for a truth he didn't want to hear.

His voice shook with it.

"James, please--"

"Don't." He held up a hand. The other was clenched, his fingers a stark white against the wooden desk below as he dug his nails into the veneer. "Just... Answer the question. Tell me if what I heard, what the evidence points to, was true."

"Colonel," Six said pointedly, taking a step forward, "Do you really think that I would be capable of a terrorist act like that? After all I've done for this outfit, after I've made it clear... the way I care about you."

Hsu clenched his jaw at that, unprepared to play these games. He's been fishing for a direct answer for nearly an hour now, and his patience was wearing thin and sparse as the desert grass in the heat of summer. But they knew him. They knew his heart now, they'd been the keeper of it for months, and he couldn't...

How could they betray me? After everything, all this time... Could Six be so ruthless?

But he knew they had to be, or whoever it was that was responsible; they must have no room for empathy in their hearts, if what the reports said about the monorail were true. More than a dozen men dead, because of one mistake.

He just hoped the lapse in judgement didn't lie with him. That he was the one who let a Legion spy slip by his notice.

And for what? What did he think could come of this? The lonely NCR Colonel and the courier from nowhere... It sounded like the start to a poor joke.

"I want to believe you," He let the words fall from him, dripping with unconcealed desperation, "Six, you know how strongly I feel about us-- a-about you as well, but... I can't look past this. I'll need some evidence to the contrary, need an alibi, or a witness, anything that you can find that doesn't point to you, because what that soldier found in your locker... It was pretty damning."

Six's eyes seemed to plead with him, their lip all but trembling as they took the lasts steps towards him, and rounded the desk. Hsu turned to face them, sympathy shining in his dark eyes, and they threw their arms over his shoulders. Lightly, his hands wrapped around their body in return.

"What if I can't?" They sniffed, and he felt their chin press into his shoulder as they spoke. "I mean, what if I can't find anything? What'll happen to me?"

Though they couldn't see it, Hsu's expression turned grim.

"You will." He told them, the firmness returning to his voice in the form of thoughtless determination. "You have to. Please, I... I can't lose you, Six."

James felt his words turn raw, his throat drying with the impending emotion.

"Especially not like this. It would... God, it would ruin me."

They pressed into him further, almost suffocating him with their grasp.

"You don't have to, you know."

There was a strange quality to the words they spoke, so close to his ear, as their arms held firm to him. It was like they were imprisoning him in their embrace, refusing to let him back away form them, denying him a view of their expression.

"James..." Six whispered his name, the way they did when they were close, the way they spoke to him only when they were intimate.

"Come with me."

He froze, his arms ceasing the comforting rubbing motion over their back that he'd began to try and keep his partner calm. Slowly, he released them, forcing himself out of their tight embrace.

"What?" He whispered, just as softly, but his was tinged with fear.

"You've told me, so many nights, how you wished it could be different, how this job-- the NCR-- is eating away at you. The sleepless nights, the grief, the nightmares... You can put it all behind you."

"Six, I..." He was damn near at a loss, but Hsu shook his head to clear it, and soldiered on. "I'm not running from my problems. And neither should you. We can find the evidence that we need, we can move on from this--"

"No, James." Six's gaze was unyielding, holding him hostage with it's intensity and on the verge of pulling the trigger. Of firing the unwanted truth right through his thick skull. "We can't find the evidence."

The Colonel held his breath, knowing what was coming before it even hit him, but hoping beyond hope that this wasn't fucking real. That they wouldn't say it, wouldn't mean it if they did.

"Because it was me."

Their hand rose with the intent to brush over his cheek, the caress of a lover to their partner, but Hsu snatched their hand in his own, like a defender grabbing a violent assailant.

"What?!" His nose curled in a snarl as his eyebrows furrowed low, but even still, the words were his last chance, their last chance, to take it back, to say they were mistaken, to lie, because, God the way he could've accepted a lie, any lie, as a replacement for this condemning confession...

"How could you do this to me?" His words turned to pleas for the truth.

Did they ever care for him? How long? Why him? What did he do to deserve this betrayal?

Hsu's hand held firm to theirs as they tried to speak, and he pushed their wrist down to the hardwood of his desk, trapping it there in a painful grip.

"How could you lie to me? For so long? How could you murder all those people? Who the hell are you really?"

"James, no, you need to listen--" You tried, fear injecting into your voice from the forcefulness of the Colonel's touch, from the fury in his eyes.

"How the hell could you make me care about you?"

Hsu's other hand grabbed their free one as he stepped forward, his face inches from theirs as he wrenched both of their arms back, and forced them down onto his desk, preparing to handcuff them.

"Just... why?"

He asked, the handcuffs clicking into place too quickly for Six to attempt an escape. Their face turned to him, their cheek pressed down onto the desk as their eyes met his, filled with an honest disbelief.

The only honest thing about them...

"I did care about you, James. But this... The NCR, it wasn't the future that was meant for this place, for the Mojave. I thought one day, you could learn to see reason. That, when the time came, you would leave with me. You would choose me, over this job that you despise."

A hopefulness still rang true in their voice, their pleading eyes, their desperate expression, but Hsu only set his jaw firmly.

"You thought wrong."

#1.5k event #1.5k celebration #fallout #fallout companions #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas companions #colonel hsu #hsu fonv #james hsu #colonel james hsu #deathclaw

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alittlewhump · 1 year

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15 Questions Tag

Thank you for the tag, @i-can-even-burn-salad - though I'm not sure what you mean, nobody is suffering here. :)

Rules: Answer these questions from the perspective of one of your characters. Theoretically you are meant to tag people to do the same, but I'm simply not sociable enough to tag anyone. If this game interests you, consider yourself tagged.

For the purposes of this tag game, you are interviewing Morgan from my long story Unbidden, not terribly long after the events of the most recent epilogue piece (#18).

1. Are you named after anyone?

"No." He looks away, as if something about a nearby plant has caught his attention. "Not any more," he adds softly.

2. When was the last time you cried?

He gives you a sharply disapproving look. "I'm not sure that's any of your business," he tells you tersely. In fact, he woke this morning - a poor start, not having meant to fall asleep - with grief he refuses to name scraping jaggedly inside his ribcage, and wept quietly for several minutes before gathering himself to face the day.

3. Do you have kids?

An expression of bewildered disbelief crosses his face. "No. Why would I ever want – no, no children."

4. Do you use sarcasm?

"No. I like to speak plainly, and I appreciate when others afford me the same courtesy." He regards you with mild suspicion, clearly trying to work out whether or not the previous question was meant to be sarcastic.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

"Their proximity." He says this as though it is self-evident.

6. What's your eye color?

"You'd know better than I would. Ah, unless – I'm sorry, I shouldn't have presumed. Very pale blue."

7. Scary movies stories or happy endings?

He squints, his eyebrows drawing together. "It doesn't matter, as long as it's true. Either, or both, or neither. A happy ending for the fox is a scary story for the rabbit."

8. Any special talents?

"No." He does not elaborate. There is no need to. Blaise might have had something to say about that, but as she is not currently present, you will have to make do with what you have.

9. What are your hobbies?

"I enjoy tending my garden and preparing reagents. I like to read. Pansy is teaching me to knit." He fishes an approximately square knitted cloth out of one of his pockets and makes to hand it to you. The edge stitches are loose and it is wider at one end than the other.

10. Where were you born?

"Gea Kul." He does not appear to have any interest in elaborating on this.

11. Have you any pets?

"Any... companion animals?" He shakes his head in the negative once you make your meaning clear. "No. Animals come and go through the garden. I like to watch them, but they aren't mine in any way. I might try my hand at keeping bees, one day."

12. What sports do you play/have played?

"I've never played sports. Some people are very skilled, I'm sure, but they don't hold much appeal to me."

13. How tall are you?

He seems momentarily confused by the question before he recalls your evident visual impairment. "A little more than fifteen hands."

14. Favorite subject in school?

It takes him a few seconds to work up a reply, toying with the stitching on the hem of his sleeve. "I have always enjoyed learning, no matter the subject. Botany has brought me the most pleasure, I suppose."

15. Dream job?

He physically flinches at this question. Recovering quickly, he smooths away the sorrow from his features, uncreasing the line of his brow and pursing his lips slightly to make a straight line of his mouth. "My work as an herbalist is very satisfying," he says, not meeting your eyes. "I couldn't choose anything I'd rather do."

#story: unbidden #my writing

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biblically-accurate-soup · 1 year

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what did you mean about the title "no children" adding to the song? i don't quite understand and i'd love to read a big paragraph of analysis

hi hello sorry for taking a bit to get to this. i was rotating my answer in my head like a rotisserie chicken for a few days.

No Children by The Mountain Goats tells a simple, familiar story. As the lead singer, John Darnielle puts it, a story about a divorcing couple. The lyrics paint a vivid picture of these characters he’s created, starting the song off with: “I hope that our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us. I hope we come up with a failsafe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us.”

These are not happy people, that much is incredibly obvious from the start of the song. The point of view of the once-newlywed-now-NewlyWonderingHowWeWereEverWed is cemented even further as he continues: “I hope the fences we mended fall down beneath their own weight. And I hope we hang on past the last exit, I hope it's already too late.”

Our narrator is past being complacent in the crumbling of his relationships. He’s actively, and snidely, “hoping” for their complete destruction past the point of no return. He hopes that nothing remains of the fence TO be mended. He hopes that there are no more exits. He hopes that it is too late to save anything now, because if there is, he certainly isn’t about to try to do so now. He continues this hopeless train of hoping in the next few lines: “And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down. And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away, and I never come back to this town again in my life.”

Finally, in the last lines of the first chorus, he refers to the person he is singing to. “I hope I lie and tell everyone you were a good wife.” In this line, he provides a sharp contrast to the earlier ones. It seems almost out of place. All of the hoping for destruction until there is nothing left to rebuild upon is suddenly cut with a line that sounds almost like it is trying to be civil, but does so in an undeniably backhanded way. He hopes in the future, when there is nothing left of the “We” they once were, he can tell everyone that it wasn’t all bad. But nevertheless, he wants his ex-wife to unmistakably know that it will be lie.

This thin attempt at civility is contrasted immediately with perhaps the most straightforward sentence of loathing ever put to song: “And I hope you die. I hope we both die.”

The rest of the song continues on similarly, with the narrator continuing his line of hoping for one of them to outwardly lose hope. Skipping forward a few lines: “I hope it stays dark forever. I hope the worst isn't over. And I hope you blink before I do. Yeah I hope I never get sober.” Even in what they can both see is a failed relationship, they still have their pride to uphold. This train wreck has become their own personal game of chicken, and the narrator hopes his former lover blinks first.

“And I hope when you think of me years down the line, you can't find one good thing to say. And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out, you'd stay the hell out of my way.” Calling back to the prior line where he hopes he lies and says that his wife was a good one, he childishly refuses to concede their tug-of-war, even after years have passed without contact. He wants to be seen as the bigger person in the end, even if it is a decade from now.

Finally, moving on to probably the most famous lines of this song: “I am drowning. There is no sign of land. You are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand. And I hope you die. I hope we both die.” And it is famous for a reason. It is so simple in its wording yet so effective in its delivery. The first two lines paint a clear image that has been set up throughout the song: being resigned to the fact that his situation is hopeless. He’s pushed himself out so far into the water and away from land—his opportunities to fix things, for him to salvage what he and his partner had—and is finally starting to realize that yes, he is sinking, and it is too late to not go down with the ship.

Immediately after that, it gives a line that has been used by many a fanfiction writer to this day. “You are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand.” Like the rest of the song, it is so simple. So to the point. And it hits like a punch to the gut, because she is in the exact same situation as him. She sat there and helped him row the boat out to sea. She remained while the ship was sinking. Because despite it all, they’re going down together. Both of them are committed to bringing the other down with them.

“I hope you die. I hope we both die.” The same lines heard earlier in the song, but this time with new meaning. The narrator loathes his ex-wife, but is aware that he is also guilty of the same crimes. He hopes she dies. I think deep down, he hopes that she hopes the same thing will happen to him.

This song is so clear and straightforward in giving us these two dysfunctional people. Two people caught up in their own game and are burning down the rest of their lives along with their failed relationship. These are two people who never, once in their relationship, were willing to be patient. Or willing to forgive. Or willing to change their ways. Two people so caught in their destruction that they kept destroying each other while drowning themselves. They truly must have wanted to be together at some point—otherwise, why would anyone have held out this long?

A couple like this, it’s a miracle they even got married in the first place. As John Darnielle so eloquently puts it: Midway through the writing, I'm thinking about what defines their life down there, and I thought, "Do they have kids or not?" At this point I had enough of the new songs to go, "No. Under no circumstances do you put children in these people's lives."

#anyway #ashe speaks #this is 100% just my take on it though please feel free to ignore or just nod your head silently

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livingforcoopsandoknutzy · 2 years

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weird thought but what about a fic where O'knutzy pranks the team and pretend to break up for like a week or two no pressure

yessss could you imagine wjdjsjjq

this is written more like a long headcanon sorry <3

cw: cursing, pranks

BACKGROUND:

okay so the cubs were laying in bed one night

finn and leo are watching spy kids their hands laced together between them

logan is overthinking (it's been a long day he's tired) his head is in leo's lap, finn's free hand weaving carefully through his curls

"what would happen if we broke up?"

"we wouldn't."

"but what if we did."

*silence*

"how would we tell the team?"

"who do you think would be the most upset?"

and thus the games began.

immediately knew something was wrong when the boys walked in separately

he gives logan until the end of practice to talk to him before he brings anything up

when practice is over logan comes up to him and asks if he could go home with pascal

"of course mon fils, anytime"

silent car ride

finally gets home and dumo is like alright sit we need to talk

logan is excited to see how this goes and puts on his best truly heartbroken face (it wasn't that hard to do once he imagined this was for real)

REACTIONS

it all stayed when remus asked the cubs to come have dinner with him and sirius in their gc (the one with coops and o'knutzy that is definately overactive)

no one answers except leo who simply put 'no sorry'

immediately remus and sirius are worried and remus sends a text to finn before he calls leo while sirius texts logan to see what's going on

logan answers with a simple 'i don't want to talk about it'

leo pulls out all the stops and when he picks up it sounds like he's SOBBING

(his boys were kicked out of the room for the call because they were being too loud laughing their asses off)

remus is Concerned.

there's a long phone call and honestly a sleepless night in the coops household

remus simply cannot believe it and sirius is very concerned about logan's radio silence

finn had texted with them for a little bit but refused to call or see them (he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the act)

it was tense the next day at practice the cubs were avoiding each other at all costs and everyone in the locker room had noticed

winter pulled leo to the side to talk almost immediately and remus was glad leo had people to talk to

quite honestly he was most worried about logan so was sirius

sirius stuck close to logan all practice in case he wanted to talk at any point

absolutely NO ONE missed when logan left with dumo and leo left with winter

finn sulked to his car by himself, everyone was too shocked to really say anything

there were a lot of texts that went unanswered

(but none of them were between the cubs who were finding this way too amusing)

let me make this clear: no one was taking sides

sure there were certain people comforting specific cubs (dumo & sirius were comforting logan, remus and winter took leo, and a joint effort between talker and alex had finn covered)

the SCHEMING that took place between the team to get the boys to talk to each other

because no fucking way was this the end of o'knutzy

absolutely not

they schemed and schemed but they couldn't get the boys in the same place (little did they know it was because the cubs were deciding who would go and who would make an excuse)

it was really rather amusing to watch the team scramble but eventually they had to give it up because arthur gave them a big speech about how team drama will eventually lead to the team falling apart

when he walked out after the speech all eyes went to them and logan gave a dramatic sigh

before he simply plopped himself into finn's lap who hid his face in leo's side when leo came to stand next to him

there's absolute silence as everyone figures it out

talker is the first to say anything

"that's all it fucking took? after all our plans we just needed a speech?"

winter, who was sitting next to him, slapping him gently

"you idiot, they were pranking us."

"oh. OH."

everyone starts talking at once and the cubs just sat back and laughed

they definately got them good

(this was kind of everywhere sorry <3)

#y'all #finn o'hara #leo knut #logan tremblay #lumosinlove #o'knutzy #sweater weather #remus lupin #sirius black #talker #kasey winter #pascal dumais #dumo #pascal #coops #pranks #the amount of times i erased was sad

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kcmuthafuckinbarbee · 1 year

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Trauma

How do you fix generations of pain passed down like Heirlooms to children and great grandchildren? I believe it’s to not repeat the cycle I was born into. Simple, given that I come from an addicted bloodline with a permanent plaque on the struggle bus. They made my path completely clear of any wandering roads by setting the worst examples possible. They tried to force their views and ways on a stubbornly unconventional woman. Today I thank them for that. They made my choice to be better a simple one.

However most simply chalk up their trauma to a traditional thinking style. “It’s how we have always done it” replays in my ears as I fight the urge to just give in. But let’s think about that. Your parents were taught by their parents and this repeats into the past Until the bloodline existed no more. Each set of parents deals with their trauma how they were taught. For most this means when you do what’s expected of you then there’s reward, when you fall short, messup, make a poor decision, get overwhelmed, don’t know what to do there’s only punishment. So as adults we punish ourselves for making mistakes; instead of learning the lesson that was meant.

This cycle leaves you with a desire to be enough or do what is “normal”. There is no room for being human here. It’s perfection or bust. We all wonder why most of us need medication just to get out of bed but we refuse to educate ourselves on why. We refuse to use history as it’s Intended; as a means to learn and not repeat past flaws. We desperately cling to how it has always been because change seems impossible. Wearing blinders we ask questions that have answers we refuse to acknowledge. Ignorance is bliss I am told…..but I refuse it with every fiber of my being. Acknowledgment is power and I will equip my family with it like a weapon to be used against all who try to force traditional thinking on them. I will demand that they be taught to arm themselves with knowledge and laugh in the faces of those who seek to tear them down. I am raising warriors, world shakers, and game changers. If their presence makes you uncomfortable then you are welcome to see yourself out. We were never meant to be tame; for we were born wildly into this world. And wildly is how we intend to live in it.

#female writers #free write #women writers #writers of tumblr #original writing #writing thoughts #writerblr #writers of the world #write #writers #writers on tumblr #my writing #writings #original post

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crystalelemental · 26 days

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Triangle Strategy continues. I'm on chapter...13? I think? I forget exactly.

To go through decision points I've had to make:

Visit Aesfrost (I did both in the demo, and fuck Hyzante in particular)

Refuse to surrender Roland.

Refuse alliance with that one house I can't remember. Silvio. That loser.

Reveal the illicit salt trade.

Refuse to hand over the Rosellans.

About to make a choice on battle tactics, haven't decided yet.

The game's events are coherent and interesting enough. If that sounds lukewarm, it's because it kinda is. I feel like the most interesting tidbits tend to be in the history books, which is not really where I'd want the focus of the game. Don't get me wrong, the general political machinations are interesting, and I think as a novel this would be pretty engaging. It's just...this is a game. And I'm doing a lot more reading than playing. Moreover, this being a game, they can insert little side shots that...kinda completely ruin the vibe of a game that attempts to force meaningful decisions.

Take the Silvio situation. Now, in an ideal situation, I would be looking at this through Serenoa's eyes and thinking on what I know. Logically, I'd probably take that deal. We're running on empty and can't fight this forever. But. The game insists on having a bunch of side scenes, including one of Silvio actively cursing your success in the last battle as ruining his intent. And because that scene played...we know exactly where this is going, long before it goes there. In a novel, a brief aside would just tip off the reader about what's coming, and probably be innocuous enough, or a hook of "oh man, that motherfucker, how are they gonna get out of this?" But when I'm playing the game, the tension of the decision is gone. I know what you're up to. Serenoa wouldn't, but I do, and I can now make decisions outside the scope of what the character should know and feel.

Which leads to problem 2: pacing and the general gameplay loop. So far, the voting sessions have been fairly...let's say not my favorite. In some situations like Silvio, it's actively annoying thanks to knowing exactly which way this goes regardless of your choice. Even when the decision is a bit more complex and you don't know exactly how things are going to go, sometimes there's a really obvious answer and instead of just pointing it out, you have to go hunt for specific pieces of information in a slow, drawn out exploration sequence to use as argument, one at a time, against the people opposed to your intended action. A good example is whether to go along with the illicit salt trade deal, or to expose it. And it's like...guys. Listen. If we do this, the guy running the show has so much dirt on us. We do this? We become the fall guy when he's done with us. Completely under his control. We can't take this deal. But I can't argue that with people outright, I have to dig through dialogue options to find the way to just bring up this very clear point.

The back and forth also leads to an odd situation where I feel like your characters are still fairly flat, despite talking so much. They're all very "Strong convictions, loosely held." Once you realize that the unlock dialogue isn't always beneficial to swaying someone, you can kinda crack everyone. Like I broke Erador down regarding Silvio's alliance first try, despite being told this would be like talking to a brick wall. Everyone claims to have strong personality and beliefs, but they all can be swayed in ways that average out to the whole cast being kinda mellow and, if I can be blunt, uninspired. No one stands out. And I am a character-centric kind of person. I don't care how involved your worldbuilding is, or how actually coherent your complex political plot is. If I don't give a shit about anyone in it, I'm going to stop caring. And the setting doesn't really do much to endear characters to you, really. Everyone is kind of an asshole? Like, Hyzante has a literal slave class they justify as goddess' orders, and Aesfrost's whole freedom scheme is quite blatantly stated to be a privilege of the strong while the weak are trampled. It's been very difficult to care about events, because no one had really gripped me.

Fortunately, there are two (2) characters I am now wholly invested on as of this chapter. Cordelia and Avlora, I'm a big fan of what you two have going on right now. Keep up the excellent work. I hope Cordelia gets her desire and stabs Gustadolph in the throat. Probably not given how the tone of this game operates, but I like her moxie. I remain cautiously optimistic on her tale. Every character named Cordelia is a winner in my book.

Kinda got sidetracked there...the pacing generally feels off, because it's like an hour of talking, 20 minutes of exploration, 15 minutes of playing a map. Which is not a great ratio. It may be because I'm coming off of Unicorn Overlord, which is delightfully fast-paced and engaging to the point I can drop three hours on it and feel like 20 minutes passed, but this game is like the polar opposite. Those 15 minutes of map fucking drag, it takes forever to beat one thing. I mean it doesn't, it takes like 15 minutes, but you get what I mean. It feels much longer than it is because things just move slowly, and actions take forever, and I have to keep fist-fighting the goddamn camera to stay at an angle where I can fucking see anything, because every time an enemy moves it has to whip around to some bizarro shot like it's trying to hide what it's doing from me. The camera thing actively gives me a headache, it's probably my least favorite part of the game. And the fact it keeps spinning means I keep having to orient which way my buttons work, because this game just cannot fathom looking at something directly, it always needs to be at a 35-55 degree angle, and depending on which side of 45 it is, the down button is either left, right, or maybe sometimes actually down. Drives me nuts.

My stance on the game is that it's fine. I'm enjoying myself enough to keep playing it, but I'm less able to binge it. I find myself needing frequent breaks just to work up the energy to slog through more narrative about characters I'm not invested in, or resting my eyes from dealing with the camera. But it's not bad, and there's at least some promise to how thing could resolve. Like with Cordelia, I remain cautiously optimistic.

#triangle strategy

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anthonybialy · 1 year

Text

Calibrating Thoughts

Offering amnesty to all those who got all of it wrong has to come with a time limit. Qualified forgiveness can’t resemble pretending another couple months of printing currency will beat inflation. This country could use a reset to fix everything alleged brilliance caused.

Tired new thinking sure doesn’t seem to be generating awesome results, what with crime being the only flourishing enterprise and endless acrimony under a regime that promised amity. Saying something doesn’t make it happen for the daft.

Decide there’s racism everywhere if you’d like to find it. There’s as much evidence behind the plan to get rich by compiling more debt. America in 2023 might not be Jim Crow Junior. Anyone nothing such is naturally accused of perpetuating inequality for not thinking everyone liberals have decided is disadvantaged.

You’re going to find what you seek. It just might not be what you were really looking for. That brings us to liberals. Distorting results is the only option when ideas don’t pan out. What are they supposed to do: come up with better thoughts? That’s impossible.

Listen to experiment details from the very scientific as they proclaim their admiration for what never happened. Everyone can actually afford everything they desire and it’s greedy corporations keeping you from buying anything, anyway.

Learning history is a drag. It’s not like all that stuff will happen again. But it may be possible that the past offers clues about what doesn’t work. Patterns are like experiments that have already been conducted, which is why Democrats get it wrong, too.

Enemies of the military and law enforcement think it’s possible for government to protect them from a virus. The autocratically frightened gave up liberty because they wanted security and got neither, which sounds unnervingly familiar. Liberals should heed Ben Franklin’s advice even though he was an old white guy who founded an icky nation with lots of guns and no insurance mandate. He was talking about tyrants ordering you about, not getting a respiratory infection. Everyone got sick while giving away their rights.

Examples of why messianic morons who possess no skill other than suckering a majority of voters into thinking life requires elected guidance should be denied power are reassuringly consistent. It’s less comforting how enough eligible participants continue to fall for it. Having too many failures to process is the only excuse.

Asking when government has ever been useful either takes an eternity or an instant to answer. While results are as clear as anything can be in this rather cloudy world, the tricky part for some takes the form of acknowledging them. Keep pursuing the precise opposite of what conclusions clearly indicate to flaunt a true dedication to stubbornness. The refusal to yield to reality is particularly baffling for those who obnoxiously profess unwavering devotion to science. Presumptions based in pretending to help for a cheap and hollow emotional lift don’t quite seem to benefit those the government pretend to help.

Opining there’s no way to fund something without an elected twit’s consent is wrong financially, too. Lack of trust is a personal issue spread to politics. Humans might just be able to choose what projects deserve how much cash and even receive an item or service in return.

Investors using their own money fund as if they have a stake in the game for mysterious reasons this White House cannot determine. Liberals despise the sensation because it feels like personal responsibility. Spending what’s seized from the productive creates just the results you’d expect from government unless you think removing the accountability that naturally follows the interaction between buyers and sellers creates efficiency.

We’ll have to accept inadvertent assistance during these modern unenlightened times. The only useful part of Joe Biden’s presidency is seeing how useless it is. Deciding what’s best starts with choosing someone who respects the same. Everyone is just about tired of being told what to do, especially by someone who does everything wrong.

Americans starved for mercy wish he’d stop showing why everyone who doubted him was right all along. Every Biden administration flub, flop, or colossal screwup shows why it’s in their benefit to stop doing anything. Even better, it’d be in America’s. But they disregard that obvious evidence, too.

This executive branch isn’t going to stop rotting our roots just because it’s clearly happening. It’s not like he’ll stop because he keeps doing everything wrong. Putting socks on his hands isn’t for a puppet show despite what the White House press secretary claims. Biden’s been a deleterious oaf for as long as he’s been in public disservice. In a republic, blame people who keep voting in such people. Americans are free to stop voting to hand over rights to options who can’t be trusted to correctly identify their limbs.

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