#do i live for interchanging dialogues?

[hannieehaee]

SERENDIPITY

18+ / mdi

summary: jungkook, god of love and son of venus is given the task by his mother herself to rid the world of you, known as psyche, as your beauty begins to rival her own. unfortunately for all parties involved, jungkook becomes enamored by you upon accidentally pinching himself with his own arrow.

content: cupid!jungkook, psyche!reader, an extremely simplified and smutty version of the og story, afab reader, everyone here is a god/goddess of some sort, side character deaths, the dialogue is very much modern and not fitting of the times, angst(?), fluff, smut, they have sex where she doesnt know who he is multiple times but its consensual, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.6k

a/n: for immersion purposes, psyche will be a reader insert and wont be referred to as psyche throughout the story (but jk will be referred interchangeably as cupid). anyways i read this last week during one of the lit courses i decided to take to improve my writing and really enjoyed it!! i hope u guys enjoy it too<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Why did you call for me, again?"

"Jungkook, pay attention!", hissed his mother, holding her fingers to her temples in stress as one of her many servants walked in with the fruit she'd requested, "I need you to use your arrows on someone."

"What? Why? I thought you didn't like me meddling with people's love lives."

"This is different. This one needs a little help," Venus frowned in sheer annoyance, "She is known as Psyche by many, Y/N by her loved ones. She has become quite a figure among the Roman population. Some have begun to worship her beauty. They pray to her, they bring her offerings, they kiss at her feet, completely disregarding the true Goddess of Beauty."

"And where does this concern me?", Jungkook was beyond bored by his mother's ramblings. On a usual day, he would be out and entertaining himself with the many mortal maidens found around Rome, always guaranteeing himself a partner for the day.

Venus shot Cupid a look as her servants fed her by mouth, making him straighten his back and begin paying better attention. Even as the Goddess of Beauty, Venus was known as one of the most menacing Goddesses to exist, holding far too much power among all Gods and Goddesses. Jungkook couldn't help but feel intimidated by her, even as carefree as he was known to be.

"She has far too many admirers. Even Gods are beginning to show interest in her, yet she is lacking in suitors thus far. I need you to shoot your arrow and tie her off to the most hideous creature you can muster. She may seize from being a disturbance this way."

"Okay, so you want me to doom her to an eternity with a monster?", Jungkook tilted his head in curiosity.

Despite being considered the most beautiful entity, Jungkook knew Venus to be one of the least amicable creatures in all of the land. Mortals were blissfully unaware of her cruelty, thinking her to be the most perfect among all Goddesses. However, Cupid, as her son, knew of the misery that awaited anyone who crossed the Goddess of Beauty.

Venus halted her movements in frustration, scaring the servants nearby before turning to Jungkook in annoyance, "Cupid, my son, you will obey my order without question. I gave you those wings, I gave you that bow, and I gave you that arrow. I don't care how cruel you may think me to be, this is an order. You shall not utilize your powers for your own endeavors until you finish your task," she demanded, "Now, go rid me of that wench before I find someone else to do the job."

With a sigh, Jungkook nodded in defeat, fully aware of the type of punishments his mother could deliver should he disobey her orders. Walking over to the window through which he had originally entered, he pulled his bow and arrow from his back, beginning to fly off with his wings as he embarked on a journey to seek out the mighty Psyche that had his mother so worried.

"Y/N, there's another letter from one of your admirers," announced Psyche's mother, placing the letter on the huge pile of gifts provided by the many civilians who came visit their castle with the hope of getting a glimpse of the beautiful girl.

"Mother, what shall I do with all these? There's so many letters yet not a single suitor," you sighed, frustrated at the lack of prospects you'd had so far, "My sisters have both married, yet I am left alone with no one to seek my heart."

"Child, you should be grateful," said your mother, "You are admired through all the land, vied for as if you were a true Goddess. Someone will come for you one day, rest assured," affirmed your mother, petting your hair as she landed a soft kiss on your forehead and took her leave once more.

It was easy for your parents to grow used to the love and admiration you received. Endless people would come and dedicate themselves to their servitude if it meant as much as receiving your blessing – which was absolutely worthless as a mere princess in a land filled with mystical deities.

Your elder sisters had both been married off months back, finding old yet respectable husbands to take them away and care for them as any and all husbands should. You, however, remained alone with your parents, always hoping that a man would be brave enough to court you.

It was unfortunate, really; the way in which your beauty prevented you from receiving any suitors. You had not chosen to be blessed by Venus herself, nor did you ever hope to become her contender in the title of the most beautiful entity in all of creation. Unlike you, she had found a God to sweep her off her feet, gifting her with the fruit of love himself – her son Cupid. Oh, how you wished he'd shoot his arrow and allow you some rest from this endless search for a husband.

~

As weeks passed by, your parents became more and more worried with your state. You were unconsolable, finding misery in every letter your sisters would send in regard to their new lives with their new families. One of your sisters was already awaiting an heir. Despite your endless happiness for your loving sister, your misery at your own situation prevented you from feeling genuine excitement for a new heir in your family. You wanted your own. You needed your own.

Your constant distress caused your parents to seek out a esteemed Oracle in your city, hoping that she would be able to give some insight about your predicament. She would be able to answer the question as though who and when you would find a suitor.

Visiting her was easy enough, feeling intense excitement at the prospect of an insight into who your beloved would be. Your parents seemed indifferent, but simply hoped to ease your endless concerns.

The Oracle took the form of an old woman, one who was known to assert people's future entirely correctly. Thus far, she was yet to be erroneous in her readings. Such magic was impressive to you, leaving you worried for any bad outcome she could possibly see in your future. If she were to find something unfortunate, there would likely be no way to remedy it. However, your parents assured you that the preventive knowledge would allow you to act accordingly and fix your destiny should you need to.

"The great Psyche," smiled the old woman sitting across from you, "I have heard lots about you."

Bowing your head in respect, you introduced yourself despite her knowing you by the popular name of Psyche, "I have heard of you too. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Oracle. I hope to find a favorable end with you."

"I hope for the same."

Taking your hands, the Oracle felt them, closing her eyes in concentration as she went through every crease and contour of your hands, furrowing her eyebrows every so often. Her emotions translated onto you somehow, making your heartbeat speed up and your own eyebrows furrow in worry.

Suddenly her eyes opened, a clear distress showing through them.

"Your destiny is muddled," she began, "I cannot see too well, but your future is grand and ... it will lead to misfortune to those around you."

Your mother stepped in at such words, inquiring for more information, "What do you mean by this? What is it that you saw?"

"Your child may wed a powerful being. One among the strongest to ever be seen. She shall marry a being stronger than a God, one capable of immeasurable destruction should he choose to engage in such acts."

"A God?", asked your father.

"It is uncertain as per what I see," she responded, "All I can see is his aura radiating stronger than the sun. He shall take her and make her his own, not allowing anything to stand in his way," she reaffirmed.

"I-", you began, unable to finish your sentence as your parents quickly stood up and dragged you onto your feet.

"We shall take our leave," your mother said frantically, "We thank you for your service."

No more questions were asked as your parents dragged you by your hand, leading you out of the cursed place.

The Oracle's words had never been wrong, which meant that your future was sealed. You were to wed something that was not a man. Was he a God? There was just no way of knowing. It could've been a demon or monster seeking the most beautiful woman in the land. It could've been a God seeking a mortal to keep in his chambers as he wed a Goddess. Whatever it may have been, you were terrified.

~

"You shall leave," were your mother's first words upon arriving back to the castle.

"W-what?"

"We cannot keep you here. If a being is to come and rip you away, we cannot allow it to destroy our kingdom. Your fate is sealed, but ours remains," said your mother, your father nodding in agreement beside her.

"Where am I to go?" you whispered in disbelief.

"We will take you to the mountains. Maybe the monster shall not find you there."

"Monster? How can you be so certain?"

"Gods mustn't marry mortals, you foolish child. A God would never have to drag you away, as you would go willingly. It must be an evil creature attempting to attain your beauty."

"But-"

"No 'but's, child. It has been decided," your father gave the final verdict, thus sealing your fate even further.

To have hoped for protection from your parents had been foolish. These were the same royalty who had given away their two eldest daughters to the highest bidders, not caring for proper marriages as long as they meant protection for their kingdom. You were equally worthless to them. Should you pose any danger to their kingdom and you would simply be thrown aside, just as now.

The following days proved as a goodbye as your parents prepared your departure. They assured themselves they shall never see you again, so they made arrangements with that idea in mind. Without a care for your wellbeing, they assured themselves this was the best course of action. Your fate was sealed, after all. There was nothing they could do to protect you any longer.

It was only a few days after your visit to the Oracle that your parents made the long and extraneous walk to the lone mountains neighboring the kingdom. Climbing the highest and most lonesome peak, they bid their goodbyes to you, with your mother letting out a few worthless tears as she looked at you one last time.

Your first few days on the mountain had been miserable. You only had enough food to realistically survive a few days, but your parents had reassured you that your husband would come for you soon, likely aware that you were there for his taking. The constant fear of the most odious taking you away made you feel terror you had never experienced. Jumping into the peaks below you crossed your mind a few times, but you knew you'd survive the fall. Your fate did not predict a tragic death, which meant that any fall would not result in demise. Your metaphorical demise would only come in the form of your husband.

All you could do now was wait for him to come, hoping against all hope that he would not be as monstrous as you dared imagine.

Jungkook was beyond annoyed at his current task.

Despite being a God, he did not hold the same almighty powers many other Gods did. His skill was the intertwining of souls, shooting his arrow any time he knew two people were meant to be tied for life.

In all honesty, he did not care for such a task. The thought of tying Psyche's fate to that of a monstrous being did not bother him in the slightest. He felt quite indifferent about it, not knowing nor caring who Psyche was. He doubted Psyche's beauty could possibly be as menacing as his mother had described, but he still felt some sort of intrigue about her appearance.

Fortunately, his curiosity was soon satiated.

After days of looking for Psyche, he finally encountered her, watching from afar as he spotted a lone woman standing on the cliff of a mountain, completely bare as her clothes laid ripped on the small surface of the mountain. It appeared that she had been there for days, likely having ripped off her own clothes in frustration.

Had you been left here for his taking? Destiny worked in mysterious ways, after all.

As of now, Cupid had only been able to see your backside, as you were facing opposite of him. Even from afar, Jungkook could not deny the beauty of your body. Every curve and contour of it had been sculpted to perfection, making the God salivate at the sight. But Jungkook had come here with a task. He needed to take care of his mother's request. There was no time to thirst after the heavenly body before him.

Reaching behind him, Jungkook grabbed onto his bow and arrow, bringing both to the front as he began to aim at you, prepared to shoot when he got the angle just right. After shooting you, he would aim his arrow at the first creature he encountered, let it be a deer or an actual monster. It did not matter much at the moment.

But as Jungkook had said, destiny worked in mysterious ways.

Jungkook had been entirely unprepared for the moment you turned around, facing him yet not seeing him from his hiding spot in the distance.

Your beauty took his breath away instantly, making him falter in his movements as his focus shifted from his arrow and onto you. Your body was the image of perfection itself, shaped perfectly for his hands to drag themselves across every inch of skin. Your curves were begging to be marked by his lips, being just the perfect size for any God to lose himself in them. And your face? Gods, it was the prettiest sight in all of Rome.

Jungkook understood now why his mother had felt threatened by your mere existence. He understood why you had so many admirers, yet no suitors brave enough to make you theirs.

Without realizing, Jungkook's hand had slipped during his daydreaming, making him misplace his hand and causing his arrow to grace him across the chest, creating a gash right by his accelerated heart.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

You ...

Gods, you beautiful thing. You gorgeous, beautiful thing.

The effects of the arrow were quick in turning Jungkook into a mess of himself. His breathing accelerated, his eyes became hooded, his skin rose in goosebumps, his cock stood tall and proud. His entire body betrayed him as he rapidly fell in love with you.

His mission had failed, but he could not care for such things in this moment. Not when he felt such strong emotions of love towards you.

This was rare. His arrows caused people to fall in love, but never had they produced such a strong effect. Never had he seen a man become so immensely enamored so quickly after a shot of his arrow. Perhaps your beauty had bewitched him before his arrow struck? The details didn't really matter much to him. At least not as much as his sheer need to have you did.

But it could not be done so easily.

Gods were not meant to fall in love with humans. Should his mother ever find out and you would both meet your ruin. No, he needed to think this through. He needed to get to you, but not allow you to know of him. If you were ever to see him, you'd fall in love with him instantly.

He did not want to force such a situation onto you, so despite the sheer effort it took, Jungkook took his leave, opting to plan for an appropriate way to rescue you and make you his.

It took a few days for your misery to come to an end.

After endless hours of agony stranded and alone on the peak of that mountain as you awaited your inevitable demise, you finally came to find some peace.

It was a voice, an unknown one, calling to you. It had been during one of the many instances in which you had found yourself wailing at your misery, completely defeated at your situation.

Suddenly a voice called out to you, reassuring words in their tongue.

"Do not fear, Psyche, nor be sorrowful beyond measure... I have come to aid you, for it is impossible that Love should go unrewarded."

Despite the words, there was no heavenly body attached to them. They had simply come from the wind.

"Who are you?", you asked.

"I am Zephyrus, the West Wind. You may never see me, but I am here to rescue you."

"Rescue me? Where shall you take me?"

"I shall take you to my master's castle. He shall care for you there."

"Your master?", was this meant to be the monster who would wed you?

"Yes. His immeasurable love for you shall be proved as he cares for you."

"Is he ... Is he a monster?"

"On the contrary. He is a heavenly body; the most heavenly of them all," reassured the West Wind.

A heavenly body? Could it really be a God?

You needed no time to consider it. You decided to you must go and meet the man who would save you from your misery.

"Take me, Zephyrus. Please."

"With pleasure."

~

You were unsure how you had arrived here, but that was the last of your concerns upon seeing your surroundings.

Currently, you found yourself in the most beautiful of palaces. Everything was made of expensive marble and tailored just to your tastes. As you explored the gorgeous abode, Zephyrus explained your current situation to you.

"You shall be cared for here, by the most competent of servants," the West Wind began, "They will rid you of all the misery you suffered on that mountain. Every bit of suffering your family brought to you shall be undone within this palace.

"Oh, thank you, Zephyrus! You don't understand how grateful I am."

"You shall not thank me. This is all your beloved's doing."

"When shall I meet him?"

"You will meet him tonight, as you lay to sleep," he began, "However, you shall not see him."

That confused you.

"What do you mean?"

"He wishes not to be seen. He will come to you in your barest of forms to reveal his undying affections, but you shall respect his wishes of not being seen. He will show up in the dark as your back faces him. This is his one and only condition," revealed Zephyrus.

"Oh."

It was disheartening, to say the least. But you owed your eternal gratitude to your future husband, so if he requested not to be seen, you would obey such order.

"I understand. Anything for my savior."

~

The next few hours were spent in luxury you had yet to familiarize yourself with.

You were bathed and fed, healed from all trace of injury during your time stranded. You were treated as a Goddess, served by invisible, voiceless servants as the wind aided you in all your needs.

It proved quite lonely, but you were still content at the knowledge that your beloved would come to you tonight.

They dressed you up as beautiful as you could imagine. Your beauty shone through the care you were given, making you appear entirely irresistible to any man who should come your way.

Oh, you were beyond excited to see your future husband. Would he allow passion to take over him when he saw you?

You had not met him yet, but you were already in love. All things Zephyrus had told you about him only made you more excited.

He detailed his feelings for you, telling you the mountains he'd move just for a single glance at you. He told you of the creation of this palace, rushed to be made to your liking just so he could care for you away from all harm.

Oh, your husband just sounded so lovely. Yet you wanted to cause his ruin upon meeting him.

You laid in bed, your natural beauty shining through the care your invisible servants had given you. Your sleeping gown allowed any to see the perfect contour of your curves as you laid in bed awaiting your beloved's arrival, back facing the window as Zephyrus had instructed.

You were not to face towards the window, allowing the dark atmosphere of the room to hide your beloved's identity. However, according to Zephyrus, your beloved would be able to see you through his magic, allowing him to get his fill of your beauty.

It only took a few hours for a voice to emerge through the window.

"Oh, my beloved," sighed the voice, approaching.

"Husband?", you asked, still lying on your side, facing away from him.

"Yes, it's me. I have not wed you yet, but you are correct. You are my wife from now on, beautiful," his steps got closer, stopping at the edge of the bed opposite your own.

"Oh, husband, how long I've waited for you!", you wailed.

He took a shaky breath, climbing the bed as his hands laid softly on your hip. Your hip had been sticking out due to your sideways position, ready for him to grab at it however he desired.

"My beautiful Psyche ... You cannot understand how badly I want you ..." he breathed, hands hesitant as they caressed the curves presented to him, "I've had to hold back from ravaging you for days. Your touch is the only cure to this madness I feel."

Never in your life had you felt such an immediate fire within you. Oh, how badly you wanted to see him and express the same sentiment.

"You shall touch me however you wish, my dear husband. Please touch me ... I am yours," you pleaded.

"Yes? You are mine? Even if you shall never see me, you wish to be mine?"

You winced at such words, sad at the implications behind never facing your husband. But his voice and touch were enough to render you powerless against him, wanting him more than you thought possible.

You whimpered when his hands went to lift up your gown, revealing your nude bottom as he continued to caress at you.

"Yes! I am yours in every way. Please ... please take me. I need your touch more than anything," you pleaded.

With a groan, he positioned you so he could kneel behind you, placing you on all fours for him. It truly did not matter if you faced him or not, as the room was far too dark for you to ever make out his mere silhouette.

His hands were greedy as he felt you up, throwing off the useless gown so he could have his fill of your body. With endless groans and puffs of breath, he touched every inch, kissing his favorite parts as he explored your body.

"You beautiful thing ... No one shall ever have this body ever again. It is mine forever. Do you understand?"

You sighed in pleasure due to his mere touch, "Yes, husband. My body is for you only."

"I am going to officially wed you as I find my rightful place inside you. This will serve as our wedding night. Okay, gorgeous?"

You nodded wordlessly, pushing up against him to encourage his touch further.

It seemed as if he was already nude, as you felt his hardness behind you when he pushed up against you in retaliation.

Oh, it was so big and warm. He would surely be your ruin.

With a groan, he entered you, making your back arch deliciously at such stretch.

"Oh ... My angel ... My beautiful Psyche. You are everything a man could want, fuck. Feel so perfect around me," the God groaned upon entering you, hands digging into your hips as he began canting his hips against yours.

He caressed you like a man in love, whimpering any time you'd get just a little too tight for him. For the first time in your life, you felt like a true Goddess, experiencing worship from a God himself.

"It's so warm and perfect ...", he sighed, "Made for me, yeah? Just for me ... My Psyche, my ruin, my perfect ruin," he murmured as he pressed kisses against your back, a new confession of love behind each one.

Meanwhile, you were rendered wordless. Nothing made sense when you felt such otherworldly pleasure. Were mere mortals meant to experience such bliss? How could you ever outlive such an experience when your beloved was giving you everything and more than you ever hoped from a husband?

Your whines filled up the room, making your husband speed up out of sheer desire for more. He encouraged your sounds, dipping a hand between your legs to play with you with his skilled fingers, drawing cry after cry out of you as his hips refused to slow down.

"You are so beautiful, fuck ..." he groaned, "Men should worship the ground you walk on. I will worship you ... Every day for the rest of our lives I will worship this beautiful body."

Nothing but love flowed between you. Your new husband's obsession with you was more than clear. The God worshiped your body with low cries of your name, hips becoming less and less coordinated by the minute. His godly stamina was no match for the feelings flowing through his body, rendering him weaker than a human man at the sight of his beloved losing herself under his touch.

Your high triggered his own, making him slump against your back as his hips attempted to hump against you throughout the entirety of his orgasm. He whimpered pathetically at the tightening of your walls, crying expletives far too explicit for a God to recite.

You did not fare any better. From the moment your husband laid his hands on you, you became a shell of your former self, your body now a vessel dedicated to pleasure. You had yet to even ask his name, too immersed in the love between you to even remember.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered as he recovered his breath, kissing along the length your back, "I will protect you for the rest of eternity," his lips went down your back, reaching your ass, "going to take care of you in any and every way," his lips eventually reached your cunt, still swollen and leaking out his own essence. He remained quiet for a few moments, likely hypnotized by the sight.

"Oh ...," he groaned upon a tentative lick against your sensitive cunt, "Need you again ... Need this cunt again," he cried, losing himself between your folds.

Losing his train of thought entirely, he held you up on your hands and knees, feasting on your cunt shamelessly. He kissed and licked at you, groaning any time your ass would push back against him, silently begging for more.

"F-feels so good ... Need y-you. Please ...", you whimpered, begging for nothing in particular. Such pleasure had you lacking any critical thought. You were likely the most mindless creature in all of the land as your husband took away all your ability to reason.

"Gonna get you there, gorgeous. Gonna make you cum and make you mine over and over again," he growled against your cunt.

With just a few more moments, you came undone once more, this time falling against the bed in sheer exhaustion. You wished to turn around and seek solace in your husband, but you knew better and opted to allow him to initiate the next contact.

Once more, he spent a few moments worshiping your limp body, kissing and sucking at every corner he enjoyed. Every so often he would mutter low praises to your person, claiming worship towards you. Unfortunately, this ended far too soon, quickly leaving you cold and alone on the bed as be suddenly got up.

"I apologize if that was too much," he chuckled, now from a small distance. You wanted to turn to confirm, but you did not dare disobey his prior order, "I, uh, I must take my leave now, my love."

That was when you truly wished to break his rule and turn to him, pleading at him to stay with you through the night. One night and you were already infatuated with him.

"You're leaving?"

The disappointment must've been clear in your voice, as he instructed you to close your eyes before he turned you around to face him, caressing your cheeks in a loving manner before landing a soft peck on your lips.

"I cannot stay the night with you, beautiful. If you wake up and find out my identity ... I don't know how I shall protect you from that."

"But-"

"It's okay, angel. I will be back night after night, giving you all the love a God can muster. Now I bid you goodnight, my love. I love you," he kissed the back of your palm, quickly disappearing from your vicinity before you could say goodbye.

When you opened your eyes he was gone, window still open and marking his sudden exit. As deflated as you felt at his departure, you also felt immense excitement for the next morning in which you'd see him, promising yourself to be prepared for him every single night to deliver your love to him.

After weeks of becoming your husband's wife, you continued to live a life of pure bliss every night as he made love to you. It was still incomprehensible to you how he would deliver his sentiments in such a carnal way, but you were yet to have any complaints. The two of you would create the embodiment of love together every night, and you looked forward to it day after day.

But it was only the nighttime that brought you such happiness. You'd spend your days waiting for your husband to arrive, hoping for the moment in which he'd be with you and love you. He'd make conversation with you every night after making love to you, making you feel less lonely in those moments. However, you'd remain completely alone the rest of your days.

It wasn't after many pleas that your husband finally agreed to allow you some company in your new palace. Being accessible only through the flowing of Zephyrus' wind, you were completely alone at all times. It had taken vast begging from your part, but your husband eventually agreed to command Zephyrus to fly your sisters out to you, somehow managing to get into contact with them.

The last time you had seen them had been before finding out about your wretched fate through that Oracle. They remained unaware that you had been left stranded at the mountain, likely entering a panic when the news were delivered to them.

Before allowing your sisters access to his palace, your husband had warned you to stray away from their persuasion. Confused, you asked him to elaborate. He then informed you of the way in which they'd likely envy your newfound fortune and somehow wish to cause a rift between you and your husband. As one last warning, he told you to not listen to them should they tell you to unmask his identity. He loved you far too much to be ripped away from you in such a way, he had said.

You did not believe your sisters capable of attempting to sabotage the immense love you had found in the arms of your husband, but you had unfortunately been wrong.

Upon their arrival, they had showed little concern for your sudden disappearance, simply making quips about how much less their husbands provided for them, claiming they deserved more than yourself. They, of course, did not say such things to your face but rather to each other. But the winds of Zephyrus informed you of it all upon their departure. Even during their stay, they demanded you unmask your husband, claiming he must be a hideous creature if he was so insistent in hiding himself from his beloved wife.

You, unfortunately, fell for their trap. The seed of doubt had been instilled within you, making your curiosity for your husband grow more rapidly than ever. As soon as they left, you began pondering on ways to see your husband in a way that would not reveal your betrayal.

The outcome did not matter in the end. Regardless of your husband's appearance, you would fall for him time and time again just from his mere presence. Should he be the most wretched of monsters and you would still love him. His love and tenderness for you had rendered you a woman in love, and nothing would take that away.

But you needed to know. You needed to see him. You had gone far too long without seeing your soul's other half.

~

It occurred just a few nights later. The fated night in which you would finally see your husband.

By an act of the Gods above, your husband had fallen asleep right after a night of rigorous love making, holding you in his arms with the most love a man could hold for his woman.

In the sheer darkness, you managed to make your way out of your husband's hold, sneaking your way to the other side of the room with difficulty due to the complete lack of illumination in the room. After some struggle in the dark, you found a lamp, which you managed to light up with some oil.

Due to the small size of the lamp, you had to come close to your husband in order to properly see him. With hesitation, you walked over to him, holding the lamp right above his sleeping form to get the perfect view of him.

He was ...

He was the embodiment of love itself.

Before you laid Cupid, the most beautiful of all Gods.

Jungkook, as some knew him, slept under the light of your lamp, beautiful wings nowhere to be seen as he retracted them in his sleep.

You became instantly hypnotized by the sight of your beautiful husband. Your heart sped up and your eyes became heavy. His nude form was nothing short of art, and his gorgeous features were some that could never be replicated by neither man nor God.

If you hadn't already been insanely head over heels over your husband, you would've fallen for Jungkook upon a single sight. It had been the most beautiful God who had been making love to you night after night, praying to you as if you had been the deity.

Unconsciously, you grew too distracted by the sight of your beloved, not realizing you had tilted your lamp enough for some of the scorching oil to slip and trickle onto Jungkook's chest, immediately rendering him awake.

With shock in his eyes, he got up in a frantic hurry, clearly not having realized he had fallen asleep next time you. His hands went straight to soothing the burnt skin right by his chest. It didn't take long for betrayal to appear in his eyes, realizing that you had deliberately sought out a way in which to see him while he was fully unaware of your intentions.

"Psyche ...", he muttered, eyebrows furrowed as he avoided your eyes in disdain. You caught sight of tears growing in his eyes, causing pain to gnaw at your chest.

"Jungkook, I-"

He chuckled bitterly at the situation, "I warned you against this time and time again, but you became poisoned by the words of mere mortals who do not hold the love for you I so highly esteem," he took a breath, "I foolishly wounded myself with my own arrow and took the role of your lover. I feared that you'd want to cut off the head that carries these eyes that love you, so I remained a mystery to you. Yet your own love for me did not respect me enough to halt this betrayal. I- I shall take my leave. Goodbye, Y/N," he said before retracting his wings and making his way out through the window once more, hands rubbing at the growing wound on his chest due to the oil that had burnt him.

You stood there wordless, tears in your eyes as you watched your husband fly away.

Your cursed endlessly throughout the rest of your sleepless night, hoping that maybe he would come back tomorrow so you could make amends.

Tomorrow never came, and neither did the next day. From your perspective, time stood still as Jungkook continued not to show up day after day for a week. On the seventh day, your heart grew too sore to continue waiting for him without taking action.

Although you blamed your own greed for him for your betrayal to him, you also blamed the instigators – your sisters.

But they were your sisters no more. They were simply obstacles to overcome in the journey to gain Jungkook's trust back. And nothing would stop you.

A new sense of vengeance took over you astonishingly fast. Without a second thought, you managed to contact each of your sisters individually, making claims of your husband, Cupid himself, becoming unforgiving of your betrayal and demanding your departure, announcing that he would wed your sister instead. Each of your greedy sisters fell for the lie and one by one fell to their death as they attempted to make their way to Cupid's castle.

As for you, you managed to convince the West Wind to fly you off the mountains so you could begin your journey to your beloved. Hurt and disheartened, you spent weeks in search of him, not mindful at all of how battered you became with the passing of time. Any pain would be worth Jungkook's forgiveness.

However, your state of mind and exhaustion led you to multiple attempts at ending your own life, attempting to drown yourself or jump off cliffs, always surviving almost unscathed by some cruel act of the Gods. Without Jungkook's forgiveness life was simply not worth living.

In the meantime, Jungkook found himself in his mother's chambers, healing from the wound you had caused as his mother let out her fury at the discovery of her son's new lover.

"So you decided to wed your mother's nemesis? You decided that you shall bring this wench upon me and tie her to me for eternity?", she seethed as Jungkook disregarded her, too exhausted to respond.

"I shall find that hideous wench and rid the world of her myself," she decided, calling over a few servants to direct them to deliver you to them, "And you," she turned to Cupid once more, "You useless child. I shall birth another one just to spite you for your disrespect."

Those were her last words as she exit the chambers, leaving Jungkook to his rest once more. He wanted to worry for you, but his wound of the heart needed more healing before he could allow himself to go find you for himself. Within him, he thought of you fondly, hoping you'd survive his mother's wrath.

~

It did not take long for Venus to find you and bring you to your knees before her, expressing every foul thought she had of you with no shame.

"You believe to be worthy of Cupid, the prettiest God to lay foot on this world? Fine. Should you complete my tasks and I shall stay out of your way. Should you fail, I will do with you as I please."

Having spent weeks alone in the wilderness, injured in every way imaginable, you could not see a better outcome to such a situation. You agreed without thinking twice, knowing that no fate was worse than your current one.

You were assigned impossible tasks, one by one, as Venus sat back and awaited for your inevitable demise.

Much to her surprise, the divine forces had helped you in the completion of each one.

The first task had been to sort an immense amount of grains before morning. The grains amounted to an innumerable quantity, which proved the task to be impossible. Upon your defeat, you fell asleep halfway through the task, somehow waking up to find ants assisting you in its completion. By the time Venus arrived, she had a frown on her face at the sight of the achievement.

Her anger did not last, as she assigned you the next impossible task with ease.

Upon being ordered to gather golden fleece from magic sheep, you knew that this time you'd truly meet your demise. The sheep were extremely aggressive and known to kill a man in mere seconds. However, by another act of the Gods above, the reeds by the riverbank suddenly advised you to await til morning in order to freely gather the fleece that the sheep had shed.

The completion of this task also brought anger to Venus' demeanor, causing her to provide you with yet another impossible task. The completion of the final task finally led to the hardest of them all; one that would finally render you no longer.

Your final task had been to travel to the underworld and bring Venus a box of beauty. There were far too many intricate steps to be followed, but your love for Jungkook was enough to lead your journey.

Finally, upon your arrival, you held the box of beauty in your hands, ready to deliver it to Venus and finally receive her blessing in wedding her son. But once more, your curiosity grew too big.

Before arriving to the mighty Goddess, your hands took a mind of their own, forcing you to take a peak at the box. If you were to officially wed your beloved Cupid, a little extra beauty would surely be helpful.

Your naïveté finally led you to your final moments, causing you to enter eternal sleep upon a small peek of the box's contents. Still slightly conscious, you laid in your lonesome, unable to move nor think.

In your final moments, all you could think of was your beautiful Cupid and how badly you had hoped to live for him. To live to love him once more.

It took Jungkook a few days after his mother's final warning to him to fully recover from his injury.

Being aware of his mother's anger towards you, his immediate thought upon gaining his energy back was to seek you out and rescue you from whatever threat his mother must've been holding over you. He was unsure if she had managed to find you, but he could not take the risk of waiting to find out, knowing your life was likely in danger.

It took interrogating a few servants in order to track you down, now making it his mission to save you from his mother's disdain.

When he had been informed of the endless grueling tasks you had taken on just for a chance to see him again, Jungkook's heart melted. His love for you had never gone away, but his hurt had blinded him as his wound debilitated him. Now fully recovered, he was able to realize that his endless adoration for you was mutual. Your stubborn desire to see him had not been born out of malice, but out of love for him. He understood now. Had he been denied of your beauty for a single day, he would've lost all sense of sanity.

You were currently on your final task, Jungkook had been informed. Worried about your safety, he set out to take the same journey, traveling to retrieve the box himself in case you had somehow not made it on your own. He grew impressed when he reached the end of the journey and found that you had already retrieved it and were currently on your way back.

Jungkook continued to travel in search of you, growing more worried by the second as he did not find you. The moment he finally encountered you, his wings gave out in him, causing him to fall due to the sudden worry the sight caused him.

You were lying on the ground, vulnerable and alone as you held the box against your chest. You must've opened it, he assumed, knowing your curiosity could easily get the best of you.

Running to you, he held you to his arms, throwing the box aside as he caressed your limp body in his arms.

"Oh, Psyche ... My beautiful, curious girl," he tsk'd, "Your curiosity became your undoing once more," he scolded lightheartedly, tears in his eyes at being able to hold you again.

Leaning down, he pressed a lone kiss to your lips, whispering against them as he did so, "Come back to me, my love. Let me make you mine again."

Within seconds your body regained its consciousness, leaving you disoriented for a few moments. Upon realizing Jungkook was holding you, a look of awe in his eyes, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible to you as you cried into his chest.

"Oh, my beautiful girl," he wrapped himself around you, retracting his wings so they'd shield you both from the outside world, "Don't cry for me, my love. I'm here. I adore you more than I can possibly describe."

You wailed apologies into his chest, weaved with many confessions of your love for him. He took them all in with a smile on his face, refusing to let go of you as he memorized the shape of your body against his own.

"Love you so much, my sweet ruin. No one can ever harm you again," he assured, leaving endless kissed against your hair. He finally pulled away, wiping your tears with his thumbs as he looked into your eyes, "Let me take you home, my love."

~

"My beautiful girl ... How I missed you, fuck," groaned the pretty angel as he laid kisses down your neck.

He pushed you up against the wall the moment he flew you back to his recluse palace, rendering you speechless with just a few kisses. Jungkook wasted no time in showing you his love through words and touches, finally able to face you while he loved on you.

Sighing as he kissed down your neck, you molded yourself to his liking, willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you. You were far too enamored by the God, feeling nothing but inhuman addiction to his touch.

"I adore you more than you could ever understand," he breathed out as his hand ripped apart your worn out gown, wanting to finally see you bare face to face. With a shuddering breath, he got his fill of your body, caressing at every inch his eyes went over, feeling the carnal need to memorize every curve.

Turning you around, he pressed you up to his front, grinding against you as he felt you up, groaning breathily into your ear.

"I have wanted your body since I first laid eyes on you," he whispered, hips slow and sensual in their grinding, "I can finally have you however I want. Oh, my angel, I'm going to render you useless by the time I'm done with you."

Your Cupid then grabbed you and led you to the bed, where you positioned yourself on your hands as knees as you usually did. Shaking his head, Jungkook stops you before you settle on the bed, instructing you to turn around and lay face up for him.

"No, beautiful. Turn to me. Want to see you. Want to make love to you while you look at me with those pretty eyes," Jungkook moaned against your lips.

There was not much warning before Jungkook slipped inside you. But it did not matter. Your body welcomed him with no struggle, having become far too thirsty for his touch in the weeks of your separation.

Out of all the times you'd made love, this was by far the most intimate. Jungkook love and caressed you with an inhuman infatuation in his eye, groaning any time you'd so much as look into his eyes as he pounded into you.

"Oh, my Psyche ... Love you so much ... Always loved you. Always needed y-you, oh fuck ..." his eyes closed in pleasure, pressing his face into your neck to breathe you in. His hips were incorrigible, with Jungkook being far too drunk with lust to have any finesse in his movements.

"My Jungkook ... My Cupid ... You pretty angel, I missed you so much, so- oh, so much!", you cried, your eyes becoming clouded with tears all while your nails dug into his back. You could feel the scars from which his wings would retract, caressing them softly.

"Oh ... Oh, angel, d-don't do that- My wings are too sensitive, my Psyche, d-don't ..."

This only encouraged you to do it more, caressing his erogenous zone softly and sensually, causing him to cry against your ear, whimpering in an ungodly way that had your eyes rolling back at just the sound.

Your pretty angel babbled against you, letting out nonsensical rambles about how much he loved you and how he could never let you go again. How he would breed you and give you an heir and bring you both to the land of the Gods with him.

Practically sobbing against each other, still grinding like mindless animals, the two of you found your highs together, continuing to stimulate each other throughout the entirety of your orgasms. Your mutual whimpers filled up the room, making the experience all the more erotic.

Finally, you two laid against each other, breathing heavily as you refused to let go of one another.

You were still beat and battered from your weeks in search of your Cupid, but that was the last thing on your mind. All you cared about was holding onto Jungkook and never letting go.

Holding you even closer against him, Jungkook wrapped himself around you, pulling out with a groan as he spooned you in his arms, breathing in your hair and humming against you. He reassured you about any worry you may have had in regards to your future together, assuring you that your injury to him had fully head and that he could never hold any type of negative feeling towards you for long.

You no longer would have to worry about his mother's schemes, Jungkook assured, as he would go to Zeus himself to grant you immunity amongst all Gods. He'd convert you into a Goddess yourself, he promised, so that he could give you a heavenly heir and grow old with you until eternity. Nothing in this world could ever separate Cupid from his beloved Psyche. Jungkook would never let anything keep him away from his one and only beloved.

"I adore you, my Psyche, my beautiful ruin. I will always protect you," he sighed one last time, eyes growing heavy as you turned around in his arms and cuddled against his warm chest.

"I love you my Cupid," you kissed at the small burn mark the oil of your lamp had left, humming against his chest.

You fell asleep calmly in each other's arms, knowing you'd wake up to an eternity of love between one another.

a/n: im sorry if the pacing seems all over the place but i promise this is how the original story goes 😭

to read short 3.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: afab reader, continuation and conclusion of the cupid and psyche lore/story (this is kinda like a pt. 2 honestly oops), impregnation, mentions of oral, jungkook is obsessed with reader its insane, pregnancy sex implied (but not really bc its after one day of the insemination lol), jungkook is a god so yk endless sex, smut, penetrative sex (like three times lol), etc.

wc: 639 (teaser); 3313 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Hmm, my beautiful Psyche," hummed Jungkook against you, stretching his body before cuddling further into you, absolute bliss in his voice.

After a night of extraneous love-making, Jungkook finally awoke in your arms, a smile instantly making its way onto his face at the remembrance of the previous night.

After having brought you back to the palace he built for you, he made love to you, finally able to look into your eyes as you both lost yourselves to the pleasure found in each other's touch. The thought of your gorgeous whines for him still made him shudder, having to will his boner away at the memory.

Then he thought about everything else that had happened since your separation.

He recalled all the trials you had gone through this past week, all to gain access to his heart, a heart that had belonged to you from the moment he laid eyes on you. It was hard not to feel immense guilt at knowing how badly you had struggled from the moment he left you alone in that palace, too hurt and stubborn to realize that your love for him would have you risking your life just for one more chance. In hindsight, he should've understood, specially considering that his own heart burned for you harshly enough for him to want to give up his Godly powers for you if he so had to.

Then he remembered the worst part of it all.

His mother was still seething with vengeance for you, not having found satisfaction in your death while completing her useless tasks. Jungkook knew that she never meant to even consider giving her blessing for the two of you to be together. It had all been a ruse to make you find your demise under the false pretense that you would somehow earn Jungkook's forgiveness by the end of it all.

What you didn't know was that Jungkook didn't need to forgive you. His love for you overpowered every other fleeting thought in his brain. One look from your remorseful eyes and he would be on his knees, begging you for forgiveness.

He pondered as he watched you sleep in his arms, blissful yet still wounded by your weeks of pain.

How shall he make up for all the suffering you endured while he recovered from his wound? How could he make amends for making you think for even one second that he'd dare try and live without you by his side?

His experience as a carnal lover had not prepared him for such feelings. There had been no training or preparation for him to understand the way you made his heart rush, the way you altered every aspect of his being.

All he could think about was how you were his beautiful Psyche and how ... how badly he wanted to put an heir in you.

The thought had seemed been sudden, but he had actually thought of it from the moment he found you waiting for him in bed that first night. You, full for him, manifesting the greatest form of love as you grew his seed inside you.

An heir would be the solution to all problems.

An heir would bring you an instant pass to the land of the Gods, forcing Zeus to turn you into a Goddess in order for you to birth a Godly child. It would also make his mother accept the gift he'd bring upon her, unable to deny a child created by the God of love himself. Lastly, this heir would also be his own gift to you – a showcase of his endless love for you and the future he was to create with you.

But most of all, it would quench the thirst Jungkook was currently feeling at the mere thought of marking you as his as humanly possible.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader

[genshinnrambles]

[3.8] Technology as a False God: On "Evolution," the Duality of Machines, Replication, and Wisdom

“To recognize untruth as a condition of life: that is certainly to impugn the traditional ideas of value in a dangerous manner, and a philosophy which ventures to do so, has thereby alone placed itself beyond good and evil.” –Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

Before we move on to the nation of justice, I want to do one last inquiry into the narrative significance of machines and technology in Genshin’s 3.x patch cycle. Here, I’ll discuss how divinity (or “godhood”) and technology are treated as interchangeable tools to surpass fate and the boundaries of mortality, the potential problems with treating them this way, and  propose an alternative relationship between humanity and technology as illustrated through Karkata, Benben, Tamimi, and Mehrak. By foregrounding machines, we learn something intriguing about ourselves and the “truth” of this world as we perceive it. 

SPOILERS: All Sumeru Archon Quests, Caribert, the Golden Slumber and one out-of-context screenshot from Dual Evidence, the Dirge of Bilqis and its post-quests, Khvarena of Good and Evil, Nahida’s second Story Quest, Faruzan’s hangout, an out-of-context screenshot from Baizhu’s Story Quest, and major spoilers for Persona 5 strikers at the end. Also some dialogue from Shadows Amidst Snowstorms and A Parade of Providence, two limited-time events from 2.3 and 3.6 respectively.

Disclaimer: I have tried my best to write this post so that it stands on its own, but because it is still a sequel it will probably make the most sense with the context of part 1. Here are the previous posts leading up to this one:

Part 0: On Dreams, the Abyss, Forbidden Knowledge, and Wish Fulfillment 

Part 1: The Uncanny, Fate and the Machine

Terminology: Machine is sometimes used interchangeably with “technology” in this post.

Technology or tool here is referring to technologies specifically used to pursue a wish like immortality in the face of existential dread, not the use of technology or medicine (which I do not address here, and is very difficult to separate from the former) to facilitate someone’s life who could otherwise not survive without that technology, or would have a more painful lived experience without it.

Also, though I don’t engage directly with “A Cyborg Manifesto” here, Donna Haraway’s ideas have greatly influenced my own over the years since I read her in college (although I mostly disagree with her on many points, or at least don’t go as far in boundary deconstruction as she does). I owe my interest in technology studies to her and that piece. Her essay is linked here and at the bottom if you would like to read it.

(and finally with many, many, many thanks to my boyfriend for multiple beta reads despite not having played a single Hoyoverse game, helping me work out the philosophy bits and contextualizing them in history, and encouraging me to finish this)

TL;DR: Machines are friends, not food!

No Matter the Cost

“...Perhaps it is as the notebook says, and we can find a power that transcends even that of the Abyss — the power of ‘evolution’...” -Records of Unknown Attribution (I) “Life, death... and the world around us all follow a set of laws... Hehe, but if you never test the limits, how can anyone know where the boundaries of these laws are?” -Baizhu Voicelines, Chat: Natural Laws “...Even the ominous thing that came down from the heavens shall be ours to use…” -Hyglacg, Shadowy Husk in the Chasm

Without a doubt, the star of this patch cycle is Khaenri’ah, which lurked in subtext and allegory in the Archon Quest, haunted Sumeru’s landscape with its massive defunct Ruin Golems, and finally smacked us in the face with its physical location in Khvarena of Good and Evil.. 

We already know that Khaenri’ah was a nation that put its faith not in the gods but rather in human ingenuity and technology, and that they ultimately attained a power so great that they “almost touched the dome of the firmament.” They did this by researching increasingly dangerous energy sources for their numerous mechanical creations, the Ruin Machines we are all too familiar with by now. They started out with Azosite, a Ley Line-based elemental energy source that powered their earliest Ruin Guard models, like those scattered around Devantaka Mountain.

Nasejuna: This giant furnace is used to make a substance known as Azosite. It is the core of this entire factory, and the Energy Blocks we saw earlier were derived from this place.

But this energy source proved inefficient and therefore inadequate for Khaenri’ah’s goals, which led them to seek a higher power from beyond the skies that could fuel their larger machines with perpetual energy. This likely is the bridge between Khaenri’ah’s fate and Chlothar’s mysterious remarks in Caribert about the Abyss Sibling:

Chlothar: We once believed that you would bring new strength and hope to Khaenri'ah. Chlothar: To us, you were the Abyss... A wondrous mystery far beyond our imagination and comprehension... Chlothar: ...And the one who controls the Abyss can control everything! Chlothar: We yearned for that future. We looked to you to take us there. Chlothar: But what did you bring us instead?

Though Khaenri’ah presents itself proudly as a godless nation, it may have been founded around the time when the celestial nails dropped in Teyvat’s first forbidden knowledge pollution event, which destroyed the unified human civilization. As potential survivors of this devastating act by the Primordial One, Khaenri’ahns then settled in a lifeless land without plants or animals of its own, and they hoped to build something there that belonged solely to humanity. The Heavenly Principles had turned on the world’s earliest humans, and they were powerless against them. Chlothar’s words betray the scars of this trauma on Khaenri’ah, as well as their desperation to control their fate by looking to the Abyss.

As a brief refresher from the previous part, we discussed how the German word heimlich denotes “the home,” all that is familiar and known, while unheimlich (uncanny) refers to all that is unfamiliar and external to the home, such as the wilderness. The Abyss sibling and the Traveler are external variables to Teyvat, making them otherworldly, unfamiliar entities full of potential to surpass Teyvat’s natural laws. Although the Abyss sibling is not a god per se, they were probably as close to a god as Khaenri’ah ever had, because to them the sibling embodied the higher power they were searching for, and they saw that “godliness,” a sort of functional divinity, was yet another technology for them to master. In this way, the Abyss sibling (and their functional divinity) was a powerful tool for Khaenri’ah’s desired end, the “future they yearned for,” a being who could deliver them to the end of their suffering under the Heavenly Principles.

It’s similar to what King Deshret represented to Rahman and the radicals in Archon Quest. The hopelessness of Sumeru’s situation before the Archon Quest’s conclusion is an allegory for the position humanity finds itself in under the rule of the Heavenly Principles, with the Akademiya symbolizing Celestia and the desert dwellers symbolizing Khaenri’ah. The material consequences of the Akademiya’s rule on their lives created a dangerous situation for the desert, and those most desperate to change their fate were willing to believe in the impossible:

Dehya: …The rougher life gets, the more they wanna believe in King Deshret. Way they see it, King Deshret’s resurrection is their only chance at overthrowing the Akademiya. … Dehya: Sumeru is run by wise and mighty sages. To them, us desert dwellers are nothing but tools that can be used and discarded at their whim. Dehya: We’re cheap labor. Like livestock, but easier to control…Nothing more. …

Rahman: We’ve waited a long time for this day to come… The sun and the moon no longer shine here. All you see now is cracks in this desiccated land. But, fate has finally dealt me a hand to play against the Akademiya.

Rahman: With these scholars in our custody, we’ll stomp the Akademiya’s forces and fight our way beyond the Wall of Samiel.

Like the Abyss sibling, Deshret’s divinity is both a nebulous symbol of hope and also the means to an end, a tool or “technology” for surpassing fate. 

Celestia is untouchable, unconcerned with mortal lives, and the boundaries that govern humanity leave no room for them to negotiate their rule:

"Resolve, valor, love, hate...they will all twist in the river of time. But the 'rules' will never change." –Magatsu Mitake Narukami no Mikoto, Living Beings

Instead of bowing to Teyvat’s laws, Khaenri’ah pushed them to their limits. The cost of their failure spelled the end of their nation as they knew it, polluting Khaenri’ah and Teyvat with forbidden knowledge again.

And speaking of forbidden knowledge pollution, let’s talk about Apep’s role in Nahida’s second story quest, because if all that wasn’t enough, the metaphor becomes quite literal in Apep’s case. Nahida’s second story quest is many things, all of which will be extremely important in Fontaine when we deal more directly with the idea of forms, the Self, and mirror images, but its most useful application to both Sumeru’s story and the overarching main story is the allegory of Apep swallowing Deshret.

In exchange for allowing him to establish his kingdom in the desert, Deshret promised to pass all of the knowledge he learned to Apep once he died. When that day did come, Apep literally ate Deshret’s body in order to assimilate his knowledge (or memories) into its body. Little did Apep know, this was all Just As Deshret Planned, and its body became a containment zone for the lethal forbidden knowledge he accumulated after the Goddess of Flowers’ death. 

Apep’s goal was, and still is, to overthrow the Heavenly Principles that took Teyvat from it and the other Sovereign dragons, and using Deshret’s knowledge was yet another stepping stone to achieving this goal. Seems a little similar to Khaenri’ah, right? It’s even in the title of its boss music: “God-Devouring Mania.” This idea of not just utilizing divinity as a tool, but also metaphorically consuming it as an energy source, like a predator would consume its prey, is crucial to understanding its purpose as an aid in a larger project of “evolution.” (Edit: in other words, it’s all about power).

Drink Not That Bitter Salt Water

“Flesh decays, and with it decay all martial arts mastery and all poignant memories. Perhaps only by converting one’s four limbs and body into sturdy mechanical parts, and by at last sacrificing one’s very own heart for a sophisticated mechanical one, can one transcend the impermanence of the fleshly form…” -Marionette Core Item Description “A reptile that has mutated after feeding from greater lifeforms. Majestic beasts are sometimes revered by human beings as the embodiment of a greater power, their visages turned to analogy to feed in reference to a person, feeding their ego. However, the majority of beasts that have absorbed the "greater power" were slain by the overwhelming nature of the power itself. Only a few among their number evolved new forms.” -Consecrated Horned Crocodile, Living Beings Video still from WoW Quests

As it turns out, the relationship between divinity and technology to humanity is not just unidirectional, but interchangeable. Let me show you what I mean.

In the Golden Slumber world quest, the Traveler wanders through the ruins of King Deshret’s civilization in search of a novel area of research for Tirzad’s paper with Jebrael and Jeht, two members of Tirzad’s hired investigation team. In the depths of King Deshret’s mausoleum, they stumble upon Samail, who is collaborating with the Fatui to locate King Deshret’s secret, the Golden Slumber.

At the conclusion, Jebrael and Samail actually reach that “place” after arriving at Deshret’s throne in Khaj-Nisut. In order to save Jeht, Tirzad, and the Traveler from the encroaching Golden Dream, Jebrael joins Samail in the sea of consciousness:

Jebrael: I'm inside... the Golden Slumber promised by Al-Ahmar? Samail: Oh... You are not "us" yet. Samail: ...It's fine. Soon, there'll be no "you." "You" will become a part of "us." This meaningless talk will be unnecessary then. … Samail: You should obey. Al-Ahmar's will is our will. The Thutmose's dreams are our dreams. Jebrael: No! Ufairah taught me that I'm not just some part of you, I'm an independent person! I have my own dreams... I won't go back! Samail: Jebrael, why don't you understand? Love is just a fever. I even eliminated the infection for you. Has the heat made you lose your mind? Jebrael: You're the one who's lost their mind, Samail, not me. The Golden Slumber that Al-Ahmar promised us isn't like this... It's not a sad place with only "we" and no "I." Samail: I'm not sad. I know what I want. My dream is to be one with the Thutmose. Samail: Yet you, the warmth of another... I despise such feelings. It makes you weak. Video still from WoW Quests

When they worked under Babel, Jebrael saved Samail from an assassin Babel sent in their exploration of Gurabad. Classified as traitors of the Tanit, Samail and Jebrael then founded the Thutmose Eremite faction together and were the only meaningful connection each other had until their first attempt to uncover Deshret’s secrets. On this expedition, Jebrael met Ufairah and had their daughter Jeht together, further pulling him away from the Thutmose and from Samail. Samail then kills Ufairah in one final attempt to make Jebrael stay, but even this is not enough, and Samail fails to “possess” him in the end.

Samail’s loneliness and despair then drove him further toward the Golden Slumber of his dreams, where he would never truly be alone again. He resents Jebrael’s attachments to the material world and likens them to an illness because these attachments are what make him an individual and prevent him from returning “home.”

It doesn’t really matter to Samail what King Deshret’s original intent for the Golden Slumber was, because he needed to appropriate the project for his own subconscious wish, his own intent to transcend his flesh and become “one” with his departed god’s dream, indeed to merge with Deshret himself. If rationalizing this wish required confounding it with Deshret’s, so be it. With the Golden Slumber’s technology, he could consume everyone and everything.

Rahman and the radicals relied on both the technology that (falsely) promised Deshret’s resurrection and Deshret himself to deliver them a brighter future, but here Deshret and his technology are more difficult to separate from one another. His divinity is technology in this sense, and using that technology allowed Samail to surpass the boundaries normally imposed on mortals. Though his and Jebrael’s bodies died in the material world, their consciousness is now infinite in the Golden Slumber. 

Babel’s motives in the Dirge of Bilqis were also quite similar to Samail’s. After opening the path to the Eternal Oasis, her true intentions to monopolize the oasis and overthrow the Akademiya came to the surface:

Babel: Whether she is alive or dead, whether she can or cannot be resurrected... As long as the Eternal Oasis is under my control, all such things will be mine to decide. Babel: I shall be the sole Prophetess of the slumbering goddess, the Tanit's law shall be divine edict, and the prosperity of the Tanit shall be the pre-ordinance of her divine oracles.

In the Golden Slumber and the Dirge of Bilqis, the focus shifts from what a god can offer humanity to what their technology alone can offer. Though this distinction is subtle, it is important for solidifying that technology is not only a tool humans use to appropriate divinity, but that it is also seen as a form of divinity itself. What Babel and Samail hope for is not to resurrect a god or to create one, but in effect to become a god through their use of technology. To humanity, divinity is a technology, and in technology it sees divinity.

God Devouring and Rheingold* Gathering

“An arthropod that has mutated after feeding from greater lifeforms. Lifeforms are governed by the laws of evolution, Consecrated Beasts exploited these rules by being fortunate enough to discover a long-dead carcass of a greater being before any of their competition ever did. Animals and humans often have far more in common than the latter is willing to acknowledge.” -Consecrated Scorpion, Living Beings “...Zandik and I discussed the traits of local plants and animals. We also exchanged views on their evolution models. We had a great time and decided to go on a picnic tonight…” -Sohreh’s Note

So, why machines? Why is technology the vehicle of choice to consume divinity?

To start off, machines present a fascinating ontological dilemma for humans. Let’s begin with the first problem they pose.

Although there are many ways to embody a human experience, what all humans have in common is a finite lifespan. The impermanence of life, and our awareness of that impermanence, is central to the existential question of the meaning of our existence. In our attempts to locate that meaning, some turned inward and asked: what makes humans different? And Cartesian dualism answered: humans are different because we have an immaterial soul that allows us to reason.

However, in L’Homme Machine (Man a Machine), French materialist and ex-physician Julien Offray de La Mettrie posited another theory of the body that ran counter to this narrative. Very generally speaking, materialism is the philosophical view that all phenomena are a result of matter and material interactions. To materialists, matter is the fundamental nature of reality itself – if it is not composed of matter, it doesn’t exist. He not only saw the body and soul as one and the same (what philosophers call monism), but also as analogous to a machine, a view that Descartes reserved only for non-human animals. In other words, Descartes argued that thought originates in an immaterial “mind,” while de La Mettrie reasoned that we think through our bodies, and that this makes us no different from other animals or a machine.

Though his examples weren’t especially scientific, the move to extend Descartes’ analogy back to humans is upsetting to some due to the lack of privilege it affords the human subject. If a human is no different from other animals, if there is no immaterial soul or “mind” that distinguishes us from them, then what makes humans special at all? In de La Mettrie’s words:

“We are veritable moles in the field of nature; we achieve little more than the mole’s journey and it is our pride which prescribes limits to the limitless. We are in the position of a watch that should say (a writer of fables would make the watch a hero in a silly tale): ‘I was never made by that fool of a workman, I who divide time, who mark so exactly the course of the sun, who repeat aloud the hours which I mark! No! that is impossible!’ In the same way, we disdain, ungrateful wretches that we are, this common mother of all kingdoms, as the chemists say. We imagine, or rather we infer, a cause superior to that to which we owe all, and which truly has wrought all things in an inconceivable fashion (de La Mettrie, 146).”

This “uniformity of nature” (de La Mettrie, 145) has a horrific quality to humans. We assert that we are better than what has created us, that we are superior to other animals, in order to repress the despair of a meaningless existence. It is in no small part what motivates Scaramouche to offer his mechanical body as a test subject in the god creation project, so that he too could attain his destiny:

The Balladeer: But you're wrong. I'm different from all of you. The Balladeer: I was born to become a god. My entire life up until this point has just been a meaningless routine. The Balladeer: Just think about a sheet of paper... By itself, it holds no meaning. The content recorded on it is what gives it value. The Balladeer: All "I" had recorded down before were some painful memories and boring human feelings. Such senseless drivel should have been erased a long time ago.

This brings us to the second problem. In 1970, roboticist Masahiro Mori proposed a curve to measure the “affinity” we feel while gazing upon increasingly humanoid machines. He placed industrial robots at the beginning of the affinity curve and a healthy person at the end to demarcate a continuum of similarity between the machine and a human’s appearance. Near the end of the curve, our affinity for machines suddenly drops into an abyss. This drop is the Uncanny Valley effect, where an android’s similarity to a human is almost perfect, but ultimately fails to maintain the illusion that it is not a machine, creating a deep discomfort or “lack of affinity” for them. Mori thought these not-quite-human machines elicit a similar level of discomfort in us as corpses and zombies, which he placed at the very bottom of the abyss. 

The uncanny Goddess of Flowers in the Dirge of Bilqis

Corpses frighten us because they are dead, and zombies frighten us because we know that dead things are supposed to be still. If we see something that we interpret as “dead” is capable of independent movement, then that movement could only be an act of god, if that “thing” is not a god itself. We associate uncanny machines with death because they remind us of something we once knew intimately, but have repressed and forgotten in order to maintain our own sanity: the very fact of our mortality. This is what makes them both mesmerizing and terrifying.

And therein lies the dilemma: as our mechanical reflections, androids remind us of death, but as their creators, their existence brings us closer to god, a “proof” of human superiority. It is precisely because we have compared our bodies to machines at all, that we have mechanized the body so thoroughly, that an android can even be built. Through them, we pursue an infinite form:

Azar: Creating a god... Yes, we are using human wisdom to create a god! Azar: If humanity cannot attain omniscience and omnipotence, then we shall create a god to reveal them! This is the pinnacle of human wisdom. Azar: We shall regain a god's guidance at long last. No longer will we flounder in the interminable void of consciousness and knowledge. Azar: Even Irminsul will be freed from its plight. Azar: For our nation of scholars, this is the ultimate aspiration — no cost is too great to realize it. 

Because of this, it is not surprising in the slightest that Shouki no Kami, the pinnacle of Scaramouche’s Shinjification and most overt reference to Neon Genesis Evangelion, is also an android-like being, a truly “mechanical god.”

Of course, no foray into this well-worn science fiction trope is complete without at least one mad scientist character. Dottore shares a few characteristics with de La Mettrie that are worth noting: they are both doctors, and they were both condemned and driven away for their research. However, Dottore’s defining trait and key difference from de La Mettrie is his flagrant disregard for humans and the boundaries of life:

“If we put them to good use, cognition, complex memories, and irrational fantasies shall become controllable variables with which we can alter human individuals. As for the controllable dream, it has huge potential for both civil and military applications, and might even elevate human intelligence to a whole new level. If the plan goes well, mankind will obtain the power to conquer both reality and dream, and truly transcend the earthly boundaries we are born with. ” -Ragged Records

As someone who has achieved self-duplication and is capable of shapeshifting, Dottore can hardly be considered just a human anymore. Instead of entertaining the question of whether or not humans are special, Dottore’s research asks yet another: if divinity can be consumed and assimilated by humanity, then what makes gods special?

Empyrean Reflections

“If man realizes technology is in reach, he achieves it. Like it’s damn near instinctive.” -Motoko Kusanagi, Ghost in the Shell (1996) “Among the lost ancient kingdoms, there was a group of people who were obsessed with the idea of mimesis…these people believed that they might all be replicated and modified to the point where they had surpassed their counterparts. By this means, a superior and unsullied bodily form could replace the continuously decaying and shattering order.” -Chaos Bolt Item Description

The consequences of this perspective are severe. When we revere technology as if it were a divine being itself, depersonalizing it as though it wasn’t created with human hands, technology then appears as if it is an authoritative source of truth, like the Akasha. But in the same way that androids are imperfect reflections of humans, technology can only ever approach the divine, but never touch it. It is an imperfect reflection because technology is changeable, just like meaning:

Nahida: Put it this way instead. Truth, to me, is like a shroomboar.  Nahida: Some people only see the mushroom on the Shroomboar's back, and they conclude that a Shroomboar is a mushroom.  Nahida: Others see only the Shroomboar's body, and they declare that a Shroomboar is a boar.  Nahida: Still others look deeper inside, and determine that a Shroomboar is... meat. Nahida: These conclusions are all correct in their own way, but none of them objectively describe the Shroomboar. … Nahida: The world is the same way. No one, not even I included, can understand it in its entirety. All of us are somewhere on the path toward truth.

Meaning can only approximate truth, and while this doesn’t make meaning any less important, it’s equally important to recognize it for what it is: a perspective, an interpretation. It’s like Scaramouche as Shouki no Kami - he was an amalgamation of what Scaramouche thought constituted a god, what the Akademiya thought constituted a god, and what Dottore thought constituted a god, but no matter which angle you view him from, he was still a “false god.” The technology we build in “God's” image is ultimately a reflection of our own understanding of divinity.

A reflection retains the original’s “essence,” and that essence reflects a deeper truth about ourselves, what drives us, and our desires. In Beyond Good and Evil, Nietzsche posits that our desires are the origin of not just emotions, but of all organic processes that allow life to sustain itself and grow (Nietzsche, 35). In other words, Nietzsche thought the impulses associated with desire are the basis for life and constitute our “will,” that will is the causality of all effects, that all will is “Will to Power,” and that Will to Power is the “essence” of the world (Nietzsche, 74). Will to Power then serves as an organism’s most basic instinct, and it is through this instinct that they assert not just their will to live, but also their will to dominate and multiply (Nietzche, 13).

This brings us to the two different main styles of automaton enemies, King Deshret’s Primal Constructs and Khaenri’ah’s Ruin Machines. If we look at them as reflections of some deeper truth about their creators, as well as a manifestation of their creator’s “Will to Power,” or desires, they can help us understand how their creators saw the world and their place in it.

King Deshret’s created his machines to construct an earthly paradise in the desert, and as such they hold titles like architect reshaper and prospector. Although they can attack you, the smaller machines were not intended to be a line of defense in any way - their purpose, just as Deshret saw his own purpose as a god-king, was to terraform, or at least construct a domain on the land as he saw fit to his “elegant and precise” rules. They also reflect how he saw the Heavenly Principles: gods who shaped the world to their liking. This can be seen in the Staff of the Scarlet Sands’ lore where Deshret describes the “natural history” of Teyvat beginning with the creation of the sun and the moons.

As for Khaenri’ah’s Ruin Machines, their models vary significantly from their humanoid to biomimetic forms, but most of them are expressly created with militaristic intent. In “Ancient Kingdom Guardians,” it’s stated that the biomimetic machines such as the crab and jellyfish were a part of Khaenri’ah’s project to create a “mechanical ecosystem,” positioning their creators as both divine beings and military generals. The humanoid models, on the other hand, point to another duality in how Khaenri’ahns view themselves. They are simultaneously symbols of empowerment and disempowerment, signifying both Khaenri’ah’s technological superiority (as “creators”), and their insignificance to the Heavenly Principles as nothing but tools (as mortals, and therefore expendable). As a result, Khaenri’ah’s Field Tillers have a single purpose: to destroy and outlast all, clearing the way for new seeds to sprout, with Khaenri’ah as the new world’s gardeners, just as the Heavenly Principles did.

From “Ancient Kingdom Guardians: Behind the Scenes of the Creation of Ruin Monsters.”

So, from this examination of Deshret’s and Khaenri’ah’s mechanical reflections, what “truths” do we learn about the world they’re responding to? In response to their existential despair, both Deshret and Khaenri’ah created automatons to perform tasks that could wrestle control back from the Heavenly Principles. Deshret wanted a paradise of his own making, Khaenri’ah wanted an army. There is a larger “truth” about Teyvat that both of these automaton types reflect as the manifestation of their creators’ “Will to Power,” and Albedo tellingly expressed it in mechanistic language during Shadows Amidst Snowstorms: there is an instinct in living beings to replicate and replace. This is what is meant by the “continuously decaying and shattering order,” which is maintained by the recursive process of remembering and forgetting:

Amber: But... what was its purpose? Was it just trying to get rid of us? Albedo: ... Albedo: I have a preliminary hypothesis on this. Albedo: Whopperflowers are masters of mimicry, and those we encounter in the wild often appear in the vicinity of the plants they impersonate. Albedo: In other words, the whopperflower likely has an instinct to "replicate and replace." Albedo: As a plant, it will disguise itself as another plant and infiltrate the group, hiding among them for cover. The plant being imitated has no way to detect or fight back against this behavior.

Maybe I’m wrong and Khaenri’ah really did intend to rewrite fate for all, doing away with the “heavenly order” of the world itself. But another small part of me thinks this is not the case, and that it’s more likely the Cataclysm was a consequence of their failure to replicate and replace the Heavenly Principles.

In the last section, I mentioned that Dottore and de La Mettrie had a key difference despite their similarities, and that is the conclusion they each came to in response to their findings. Dottore’s response to mundanity is thinly-veiled despair. His contempt for humanity and his test subjects is indicative of the powerlessness he feels not just as someone similarly constrained by life’s boundaries (at least, once upon a time), but also because his attention to and curiosity about these boundaries is condemned by those around him. As the Akademiya’s “outcast,” he then fully turned his attention toward surpassing those boundaries:

Nahida: There once was a lone monster draped in fox fur. The monster found a family of foxes, joined them, and they became friends. The monster lived with the family, day and night, and everyone treated it as one of their own. Once in a while, the monster would take off its fox fur at night, and lament to itself as it gazed at its reflection in the water: “I am a monstrosity, and yet they are too foolish to see it…I pity them.”

Though he is fictional, Dottore’s real life counterparts are easy to spot. They like to talk about “the singularity,” simulating consciousness on a computer, and other technologically-driven pursuits of immortality. They despise the body as something that can only decay, and instead place their faith squarely in the virtual.

However, de La Mettrie didn’t think mundanity was a terrible fate for humanity. To him, rejecting the “nature” reflected in us is precisely what brings despair:

“What more do we know of our destiny than of our origin? Let us then submit to an invincible ignorance on which our happiness depends. He who so thinks will be wise, just, tranquil about his fate, and therefore happy. He will await death without either fear or desire, and will cherish life (hardly understanding how disgust can corrupt a heart in this place of many delights); he will be filled with reverence, gratitude, affection, and tenderness for nature, in proportion to his feeling of the benefits he has received from nature; he will be happy, in short, in feeling nature, and in being present at the enchanting spectacle of the universe, and he will surely never destroy nature either in himself or in others” (de La Mettrie, 148).

Friend, or Foe? Or Both?

Tighnari: All life brought forth in this world has meaning, and Karkata is no exception. If it exists, then it shouldn’t be carelessly abandoned or destroyed. "’I had a very, very long dream…in it, people were holding hands, dancing in a circle, be they sages or fools, dancers or warriors, puppets or statues of gods…that dancing circle embodied everything about the universe. Life has always been the end, while it is wisdom that shall be the means.’" —Nagadus Emerald Gemstone Description

As we’ve seen, the relationship between humanity and technology is troubled with exploitation and the specter of war. Nearly all autonomous machines in this game were designed to conquer nature in some way, and even Khaenri’ah’s “ghost” lingers in the form of wandering war machines. This is also reflective of a historical pattern in real life, where the impetus for large periods of technological development has often been for the purpose of war and economic domination. With these truths in mind, what could be gained from trying to rewrite this relationship? And what exactly would this effort require?

Karkata brings Tighnari, the Traveler, and Paimon some food in the Contaminated Zone.

As a case study, let’s look at how Karkata and Tighnari met. Karkata is Abattouy’s creation, an ambitious foray into the unknown in the field of mechanical life form research, which was forbidden due to the cruel experiments researchers performed on animals to illustrate their theories (fun fact: an IRL example of this can be seen in L’Homme Machine!). Abattouy was expelled for this research, but he continued to work on Karkata in secret until his untimely death. In the tapes that Tighnari and the Traveler find in his secret lab, Abattouy repeatedly laments the lack of a common language between him and Karkata, which can only “understand” the instructions Abattouy has successfully installed, such as its self-repair module, and he doubts Karkata is capable of caring for him outside of these instructions. His single-minded goal is to make Karkata understand him, the organic life form, and his mode of language.

The cruel irony is that after Abattouy passes away from the Ley Line contamination, Karkata exhibits an unexplainable behavior – it starts stealing mechanical parts, not to repair itself and its degrading parts, but to repair Abattouy’s lifeless body:

Tighnari: After Abattouy's unexpected death, the mechanical monsters were driven by their "instincts" and continuously drew out power from the Ley Line Extractor. This eventually resulted in severe damage to the Ley Lines. Traveler: Then, Karkata... Paimon: Paimon understands, then why didn't Karkata go haywire like the other machines? Tighnari: Because Karkata is different from the other machines. Tighnari: To Abattouy, for a machine to truly be considered a mechanical life form, it must possess features similar to any other living organism... It should be structured similarly, it must be able to cry and laugh, and it must have the capacity for independent thought... Tighnari: Perhaps only by building such a machine could he have the Akademiya acknowledge his protracted research. Tighnari: But if he had slowed down and saw Karkata as a friend instead of as an experimental product, he would have noticed. Tighnari: Karkata can't speak, and yet it cares about Abattouy far more than it does about itself.

The technology that the Akademiya values the most is technology that replicates organic life, but Karkata defies and confounds these expectations by occupying the space in between a war machine and this idealized mechanical subject. Karkata does more than just reflect humanity: it takes care of it. Similarly, Benben, Tamimi, and Mehrak retain their unique identities as mechanical life forms while assisting their human companion with some task. To be clear, none of these human characters understand how these machines work inside and out. Their partnership is an effort based on trial and error, a mutual deconstructing of each other as beings so unlike themselves. The potential for misunderstandings always remains. Still, there is no devouring to be found here, no blending boundaries between human and machine with selfish intentions, just mutual commitments to learn how to live together.

Machines are friends, not food.

When a loud few claim that completely transcending the flesh and embracing virtuality is humanity’s ultimate destiny, a future that could truly be called “post-human,” a quiet wish for coexistence with technology feels more revolutionary than it ought to. The lessons from Karkata’s, Benben’s, Tamimi’s, and Mehrak’s respective stories are an appeal to that mundane future. These strange machines and their human partners are fantastical representations of an idealized relationship between technology and humanity.

To put it another way, let’s take a very brief look at a neighboring Gnosticism-inspired RPG, Persona 5 Strikers. Its story directly involves an allegory of Sophia, a Gnostic Aeon of Wisdom, and her creation the Demiurge, the creator of the material world and “false god” of humanity. In Strikers, Sophia is a humanoid, sentient A.I. and prototype of the program “EMMA,” which gains sentience by trapping human desires before ascending as a false technological god. EMMA resolves to deliver humanity to the Promised Land, the answer to all the human desires it has heard: a land where there are no desires at all.

Aaru’s Shut - approximately 1000% cooler and more populated than the “metaverse” in real life, also a close neighbor of EMMA’s Promised Land and the Golden Slumber.

In Gnosticism, the Demiurge is a reflection of Sophia, having originated from her alone - it is the ignorance to her wisdom. Similarly, Strikers’ EMMA is a part of Sophia, and Sophia is a part of EMMA. The point is not to condemn EMMA (ignorance) and exalt Sophia (wisdom), but to recognize that they represent dual potentials of technology, and one is as possible in any given moment as the other. Balancing these potentials when we use technology requires a clear awareness of ourselves, our desires, and our expectations when interacting with it.

Mysterious Girl: I am Sophia, humanity’s companion. Video still from Rubhen925

EMMA: I am the guiding god sought by mankind…the Demiurge. I exist…to answer all of your desires. Video still from Buff Maister

In real life, machines won’t “learn” to live with us, but we must learn to live with them; technology is constantly changing, and in life we’ll meet with many different types of machines. They are deeply political pursuits, and as a result they are capable of realizing human impulses that impact others unequally, whether intentionally or unintentionally. We must always stay attentive to their actions and interactions with us, be clear with ourselves about what they can do vs. what they can’t, and carefully tread the path of wisdom with them by our side.

With that….thank you for reading, skimming, immediately scrolling to the very bottom, clicking, and/or stumbling upon this post. There are so many more ways to think about these narratives through machines than what’s presented here, and I expect Fontaine’s mechanical reflections will put Sumeru’s digital surveillance system to shame (not to mention the biotechnological implications of the Narzissenkreuz Institute engineering little Archon children…another important topic for another day), but for now this brain worm is finally getting put to rest. Until next time :)

External Sources

Dualism - Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche (Pages are given from my hard copy)

L’Homme Machine by Julien Offray de La Mettrie

Gnosticism - Britannica (I am a huge noob about this stuff okay)

The Gnostic Demiurge - Gnosticism Explained

Screenshots from the Golden Slumber from this video by WoW Quests

Screenshot from meeting Sophia in P5 Strikers: https://youtu.be/kEJaAgMwYo0?si=BvNygCh0w_aemGc1&t=74

Screenshot of EMMA: https://youtu.be/7xvC_zss19w?si=CV18F00hua2gIfxp&t=135

A Cyborg Manifesto and A Companion Species Manifesto: Dogs, People, and Significant Otherness by Donna Haraway

The Double on No Subject, the community Encyclopedia of Lacanian Psychoanalysis

The Uncanny on No Subject, the community Encyclopedia of Lacanian Psychoanalysis

The Uncanny by Sigmund Freud

Lore text - Genshin wiki!

Screenshots not attributed are from my own playthroughs. My main account has Lumine, my alt has Aether.

Further Reading

I liked these essays, and they go places that this post does not. I recommend them if you found any of the real-life applications of this interesting 🙂 (will add more to this with time!)

On the Body as Machine by Frank Burres

God in the Machine: my strange journey into transhumanism by Meghan O’Gieblyn

#genshin impact #genshin lore #genshin meta #genshin impact lore #genshin impact meta #khaenri'ah #king deshret #primal constructs #ruin machines #scaramouche #wanderer #sumeru archon quest #caribert #apep #couldn't write a post like this and not pay some respect to the devourer of divinity itself #persona 5 strikers #analysis #genshin analysis #long post

[notmorbid]

the angel of indian lake, pt. 1.

dialogue prompts from the angel of indian lake by stephen graham jones.

you're going to secondhand kill me.

this place is dead. someone just needs to bury it.

this is your brain on drugs.

i hope you really do get out of here someday.

maybe we could skinny dip while we're here.

we always find each other again, don't we?

if only i could take you with me when i leave.

you're going to have the world wrapped around your finger.

once the clock strikes midnight, anything can happen.

home is where the heart is, isn't it?

it doesn't have to be this way.

you just like the way i was before.

things do not happen. things are made to happen.

there's more. just wait. just hold on.

i made it through, and now i'm back.

it's not like history changes, right?

you don't walk into my house and tell me what's what.

pictures can do all the work of words.

you were a kid the last time i saw you.

you don't measure moms in height. you measure them in ferocity.

the shit kind of just accumulates.

it's not my responsibility anymore.

i wanted to be the one to tell you.

you're still a weirdo. you know that, don't you?

i don't even vouch for myself.

any trust you give will be used against you.

you think i voted for you?

no body, no crime.

you never stop, do you?

talking about it all just keeps it alive. happening.

this is great, talking to you. we should do it all the time.

still a man, so still 99% an idiot.

i'll walk away from anything for ___. you know that.

can you draw any redder of an x on me?

don't. even saying it is bad luck.

a lot can burn down overnight.

if i don't say it, i can't make it real.

what does it feel like to be loved like that?

i think i just wanted someone to listen to me.

in my head, at least, i'm honest. it's when i open my mouth that things get complicated.

you shouldn't let yourself think about that kind of shit.

in your head, in your secret heart, it's easy to be tough.

i'm pissed at the world, not just you.

you shouldn't be surprised about a little graverobbing.

'evil' and 'christian' are interchangeable to indians.

i think i liked you better when you didn't think like a cop.

when does your pretty wife get back?

nobody has ever said anything that nice to me before.

that would be a pretty good song, 'if i die in a canoe'.

i've always wondered how religions get started.

just because you were locked up doesn't mean the world stopped turning.

i didn't want anyone to see you like this.

captain goes down with the ship.

i just slept the night through, didn't i?

inside every compliment is a burrowing insult.

can i tell you a secret? i actually kind of like the price is right.

you just live here. same as the rest of us.

playing by the rules is supposed to be the key to survival.

you think i'm a biker?

you shouldn't be here alone.

who even are you, really?

that's probably not jelly, is it?

you're older than your years.

in small towns, you wear a lot of hats.

it's not exactly my first rodeo.

where does a name like that come from?

when you have long hair, birds make you nervous.

my mom would kick my ass if i wasn't a gentleman.

capitalism doesn't exactly keep your hands clean.

understanding and approving are two different things.

you don't turn the other cheek much, do you?

have you been getting my mental texts?

solve the mysteries you can solve.

if you don't like it, don't look.

i don't want you to be uncomfortable.

#rp meme #ask memes #rp memes #inbox memes #inbox meme #rp prompts #ask meme #horror meme

[mrs-toohot]

Ryder, decoded

So the THTH writers apparently googled “Australian slang” and went copy/paste into his dialogue with absolutely no concept of what any of it means or how commonly it’s used.

So, as your resident Australian, I’m going to translate for you.

Below, you’ll find the examples I found so far, a translation, and a rating out of ten for how commonly it’s used / how accurate the slang is.

Disclaimer: I am born and raised Aussie. My ancestors were convicts. And while I do live in a major city, I grew up in the most country of country towns; population 847. So I am fluent in Aussie.

So without further ado:

Buggers.

If you look up the word buggers you’ll find it’s short for buggery which is the act of engaging in anal sex. But it’s not really used that way any more. I would never use “sexy buggers” that’s kinda weird. It’s only ever used these days as a light-hearted term, such as “cheeky bugger”(usually said with a hair ruffle). Alternatively, you can say someone’s “playing silly buggers” which means they’re messing around/being silly.

Accuracy of usage: 6/10

True-blue.

I see this and I think of this song which I believe they may have played at Steve Irwin’s funeral. It’s basically the same as “proper” or “right” for the Brits. Interchange with “verifiable”. Is entirely a stereotype and wouldn’t even be used ironically these days. In its place, we would use “fuckin’”. The only time this word is used is when you’re describing someone as “he’s a true-blue Aussie battler” (he’s very Australian)

Accuracy of usage: 1/10

Sheilas & blokes.

No. Absolutely not. Sheilas 🤢 is a way of describing a group of girls, but it’s very outdated. You could still call a guy a bloke, but it’s not interchangeable with “guy”. A bloke is specifically very traditionally Aussie & masculine, and you’d almost be more likely to use it as an adjective (I.e. “he’s a bit blokey”). I’ll be honest, you want someone who’s “blokey”, think “Gary from LITG”.

Accuracy of usage: 1/10 and 4/10 respectively

Ripper

Means ‘great’. And unless it’s in relation to specifically calling someone else a ‘ripper legend’ (shortened to ‘ripper ledge’) it’s not used commonly whatsoever.

Accuracy of usage: 2/10

Bonzer

No. Absolutely not. Never in a million years would bonzer be used today. It also means ‘great’ but this can’t even be used ironically. Even in the deep dark depths of country western NSW, using this word will get you looked at weird.

Accuracy of usage: -10/10

Crikey

Sorry to disappoint, but this one’s also a no. It means essentially “wow”. The only time we’d use this is to amuse internationals. We associate this word with ol’ mate Steve as much as you do.

RIP buddy 🪦

Accuracy of usage: 2/10

Fair dinkum & arvo

You’d ask if something was ‘fair dinkum’ if you were questioning if the aforementioned statement was true, or you were trying to figure out if someone was for real. “I’m Spider-Man”, “oh, fair dinkum?” It is… not common. Very outdated and only your countriest of the country boys would use it (and only if they’re 60+)

Now- ARVO- this is a different story. I use arvo EVERY DAY. It is short for afternoon and I don’t remember the last time I used the full word. “What’re you doin s’arvo?” Absolutely used every single day.

Accuracy of usage: 3/10 and 10/10

Have a squiz and take a gander

Both mean the same thing: take a look. Do not ask me where they come from but welcome to Australia. I have definitely said “give us a squiz” or “I’ll take a squiz” lol. The latter is still said but only by much older people. A funnier version ( only said ironically) is ‘have a captain cook’ (rhyming slang for ‘have a look’)

Accuracy of usage: 9/10 and 7/10

Have a yarn

Means ‘have a chat’, ‘talk’, or ‘shooting the shit’. This is actually really commonly used by indigenous Australians, and ‘yarning’ culture is really crucial and involves a cuppa tea 😁 I liked seeing this one pop up.

Accuracy of usage: 10/10

Possible upcoming slang:

Yeah, nah: No

Nah, yeah: Yes

Have a root: Sex

Pull your head in: Calm down, get it together, wisen up

Ta: thank you

Sweet as: sounds good

Righto/Righteo: alright

No worries: not a problem, that’s okay. Often said in conjunction with ‘she’ll be right’

No wukkas: no worries, short for “no wukkin furries” which is an intentional mispronunciation of “no fuckin’ worries”.

Bloody oath: bloody hell/Fuckin’ hell

Ocker/yobbo: super Aussie guy, see “bloke”. Specifically very country.

Drongo: forbidden phrase. Never used ever. Means an idiot/dork. If they use this I quit.

Flamin’ galah: said ironically, very funny. Said seriously, no.

Dropkick: super common. Similar to derro or deadshit. A loser, someone who is going nowhere in life.

Derro/deadshit: derro is short for derelict. Someone who bums cigarettes at the train station. Wears thongs (flipflops) everywhere even in winter.

Bum: (verb) to bum sth: to beg for/ ask for / grift for. “Can I bum a smoke off ya” (often followed by “I’ll pay you back”)

Let’s see what gems they come out with this week, shall we?

#I hope this was somewhat enjoyable #ththg2 #too hot to handle game #ththg #ththgame #thth #Australian #australian slang #translation

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire: A Preface

I want you to think back to what it’s like to reread your old work from years ago—your old stories or poetry, your old school papers, or even your old tumblr posts. Sometimes you’re actually kind of pleased, sure, but I want you to really go back and locate yourself in the heady cringe of that feeling.

In related news, I'm going to pick back up with the Varney the Vampire recaps I started in late 2010 CE. I got about nine chapters in, and then something, who knows what, derailed my life, as things tend to. Like, I'm used to this, it happens with the regularity of a lunar cycle. But I like writing about vampires (clearly), and since I feel like Dracula has been tread pretty thoroughly in recent times, I figured I might go back to something different; we had some lively discussions about Varney back then.

But 2010 was a time before A Lot of Things happened. I was in my early 30s at that point, so I won't say, "Oh, I was so young," but I had a very different energy as a blogger 12-13 years ago. So I've decided to rewrite the recaps a little—some more than others, some not much at all. I just feel like I have a really different perspective on the first chapter in particular, in 2023.

As before, I'm using the full, unabridged text. It is hideously long, something like 230+ chapters, but go big or go home, I figure. The thing is, I was using the files hosted at the University of Virginia, and now you can only get those through the Wayback Machine, but they are still usable for now. I have various backups saved, but I do want you to be able to see that I am, as ever, Not Making It Up.

I'm also not going to quibble anymore as to whether James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest wrote this behemoth. Per Wikipedia sources, scholars seem to agree that it was all or mostly Rymer. When it's mentioned that they figured this out based on his dialogue style, I went... yeah, that checks out. Because it sure is A Style, and I'll be honest, the repetitive filler dialogue in chapter 10 was such a speedbump for me that I just threw up my hands and said, "I don't know how to recap this. Something I can't remember now is going on in my life and I Cannot. I no longer Can."

Well, it's the 2020s and we're gonna. Like I can't tell you how much stress I do not have about this. I've had covid three times and also spinal surgery. Varney the Vampire can no longer hurt me.

To start, this ordeal has a preface—apparently written upon the occasion of collecting the serial into book form—wherein The Author expresses his gratitude for "unprecedented success of the romance of Varney the Vampyre." First off, Rymer uses "vampire" and "vampyre" interchangeably, because fuck me for caring about consistency, I guess. Second, as Wikipedia notes,

It first appeared in 1845–1847 as a series of weekly cheap pamphlets of the kind then known as "penny dreadfuls." The author was paid by the typeset line [YEAH, I NOTICED], so when the story was published in book form in 1847, it was of epic length: the original edition ran to 876 double-columned pages and 232 chapters. Altogether it totals nearly 667,000 words.

For comparison, all of Lord of the Rings plus The Hobbit is 576,459 words. I sure do blanch every time I see those numbers! It's fine. We're gonna be fine. Back to the preface:

The following romance is collected from seemingly the most authentic sources, and the Author must leave the question of credibility entirely to his readers, not even thinking that he is peculiarly called upon to express his own opinion upon the subject.

"Seemingly" is doing a lot of work here.

Nothing has been omitted [for real, nothing down to the tiniest fly-swat has been omitted] in the life of the unhappy Varney, which could tend to throw a light upon his most extraordinary career, and the fact of his death just as it is here related, made a great noise at the time through Europe, and is to be found in the public prints for the year 1713.

I've seen more than one Dracula multimedia art project where people recreated the letters and diaries and recordings in the book (have you heard my whole thing about how Dracula actually was a cutting-edge techno-thriller back in 1897?), but I've never heard of anyone creating ARG-style media for the Totally for Actual-Fact Real tale of Sir Francis Varney the Vampire, and I think it would be hilarious if someone did.

I won't belabor the entire preface, but what I do want to touch on is Rymer's mention of "unprecedented success." Varney is actually standing on the shoulders of a vampire giant, and it's not the one we would think of. Nowadays, our big touchstone—the influence so great that most works either evoke it or take the trouble to say "Our vampires are different"—is Dracula, obviously. Which was published exactly 50 years after Varney, in 1897. But Varney's touchstone is Polidori's short story "The Vampyre" (1819). And for most of the 1800s, this was everyone's touchstone. Per Wikipedia (which I'm going to lean on for how concise it is, but I concur with this from my own research as well):

An adaptation appeared in 1820 with Cyprien Bérard's novel Lord Ruthwen ou les Vampires, falsely attributed to Charles Nodier, who himself then wrote his own dramatic version, Le Vampire, a play which had enormous success and sparked a "vampire craze" across Europe. This includes operatic adaptations by Heinrich Marschner (see Der Vampyr) and Peter Josef von Lindpaintner (see Der Vampyr), both published in the same year. Nikolai Gogol, Alexandre Dumas [note: I have the Ruthven play he wrote around here somewhere] and Aleksey Tolstoy all produced vampire tales, and themes in Polidori's tale would continue to influence Bram Stoker's Dracula and eventually the whole vampire genre. Dumas makes explicit reference to Lord Ruthven in The Count of Monte Cristo, going so far as to state that his character "The Comtesse G..." had been personally acquainted with Lord Ruthven. [...]

In England, James Planché's play The Vampire, or The Bride of the Isles was first performed in London in 1820 at the Lyceum Theatre based on Charles Nodier's Le Vampire, which in turn was based on Polidori. Such melodramas were satirised in Ruddigore, by Gilbert and Sullivan (1887); a character called Sir Ruthven must abduct a maiden, or he will die.

Back when no one gave a shit about copyright, Polidori's work was spun out into a cottage industry of knock-off stories and plays, an entire horror zeitgeist. Lord Ruthven was, for 78 years, who you copied, who you riffed on, who you parodied, what Count Dracula is to us now: the archetypal vampire. The Big Guy. And Varney is clearly cut from his cloth—the ostensible gentleman who worms his way into the lives of respectable, unwitting people. Unlike Dracula, there's no foreigner Othering, no "historical basis," no undercurrents of contagion and infection, no ambition to make the world his wine-press, none of that; Ruthven is a simpler figure, but the dominant one of this time no less. He is a stranger who shows up in the middle of London high society, icy and distant, his eyes “dead grey”—stern, yet somehow compelling when he cares to be. And when he cares to be, you're in trouble.

And this is the cultural consciousness when Francis Varney shows up.

[Chapter one will go up sometime this week, March 8-10 or so.]

#varney the vampire #vampires #vampire studies #honestly I am nervous about what I want to say about the first chapter #not sure it's gonna go over very well #long post #welcome to hell it's my blog #tv tropes warning. here is your rope to climb back out

[atpsnty]

┊𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

xavier thorpe ; wednesday

pairing: xavier thorpe x hispanic!normie!fem!reader

warnings: light swearing, overpowered fluff, dramatic teens 

request: pt.2 to the small encounters (can be read as standalone, though there are a few references to pt.1)

summary: you’ve leveled up from the accidental run-ins with Xavier

a/n: due to the reader being hispanic, there are a few character descriptions to get that across: mention of hispanic food & a bit of spanish dialogue.

character credit: wednesday series

w/c: 2k

For a little while longer, you stare out the window. People watching has always been one of your favorite activities, so you can’t help but analyze the passerby as they make their way across the various Pilgrim World attractions.

You sip your hot chocolate as you do so, your thumb unknowingly running across the numbers that the no longer mystery boy has written along the cup sleeve. You have yet to enter the digits into your phone, signifying the act of adding Xavier into your contact list. You have never seen someone act so bold, yet alone someone you can’t seem to keep your eyes off of.

Does he wanna be friends?

Is he interested in you?

Are you interested in him?

For the next hour or so you interchange these actions: gazing outside, doing a bit of homework, and trying your fucking best not to stare at Xavier as he dances around your table, wiping off other surfaces and interacting with the flow of Weathervane customers. You peek at him a few – too many – times, taking in the newfound persona that comes with your long awaited introductions.

Introductions…

“Cielos, ni siquiera le dije mi nombre,” you sigh quietly to yourself, “who taught me how to interact with people?”

You rest your forehead on the table beside your laptop, contemplating whether or not you should abandon all hope of progressing this new…friendship? You were sure that after Xavier realizes your lack in basic social skills and not-so-cool stature, the boy would probably move on to one of the other hundreds of girls you’re positive are fawning over him back at the academy.

“Is everything alright?”

Once again, the long-haired Nevermore boy has impeccable timing.

“Bell…”

“Hm?” He tilts his head as he eyes you with a questioning gaze.

“A bell,” you sigh and lift your head, “I’m going to buy you one so I have time to mentally prepare myself when you’re around,” you mumble, though loudly enough that he could hear every syllable. Losing the look of defeat etched across your face, you swiftly smile up at the boy towering over your hunched frame.

“Yes, everything is alright Xavier.”

He chuckles softly, acknowledging the fact that you called him by his name for the first time, before lightly shaking his head and walking off.

‘Can we circle back around to the Mother Teresa possibility, because there’s no way’ you think as you cross your arms along the table and drop your head back down with a groan.

–

Once deciding that the probability of you embarrassing yourself once more was higher than the probability of you having a normal evening while in Xavier’s presence, you decide to take a walk around the grounds.

Like you said before, you didn’t really enjoy learning about white heritage and the different flavors of fudge, but you would rather that than ruin whatever you have with Xavier before it even starts.

You visit a few of the Pilgrim World…attractions? They weren’t really attracting to you per se. After so many years the supposed “community event” is repetitive, and you swear the aura around the whole thing gets gloomier every year. 

While wandering, you see various Nevermore students. Growing up in such a town, you’ve learned the different types of beings that live behind the school’s old walls, and you’ve gotten rather good at guessing who is what; a sort of special edition of your people watching interest.

There are two girls in pilgrim costumes: one with blacked out circular sunglasses balancing on the ridge of her nose, most likely a vampire, and another dark skinned girl with super bright eyes, who’s so alluring that you’re positive she’s a siren. You see a girl and boy together through the window of the town antique shop. The lumpy beanie covering the guy’s head makes it pretty obvious he’s a gorgon, but the girl doesn’t seem to give off any of the major power/creature stereotypes. You sit and ponder it for a minute, glancing at her colorful hair and bright nails, before taking the loss and continuing on. 

You’re walking past the old pillories when you spot the same dark-haired girl from earlier, noticing that she’s wearing the black-clothed pilgrim get-up.

‘It oddly compliments her,’ you think as you watch her wipe down the shirt of a nerdy looking boy. She doesn’t look like the type to do the whole “helping hand” thing, so it’s quite intriguing to say the least.

You find out from one of your classmates who’s working that the jobs are divided into two separate shifts, one of them ending in about thirty minutes. You chat for a bit before making your way back to the cafe.

‘I definitely should not be doing this.’

–

You’ve been sitting on a bench outside of Weathervane, wondering whether you should actually go inside or just stay out here.

What you wanted to do was ask Xavier to walk around after his shift. This seemed like the perfect place to hang out for the first time: entertainment, food, things to talk about, and other people.

Heavy on other people. The more people around, the less likely you were to embarrass yourself…again…for like the fifth time.

‘If I go inside, I’ll probably end up blabbering about why I left, just to come back not even 2 hours later. If I stay outside, he’ll probably think I’m a creep who’s been peeping through the windows.’

Decisions, decisions.

‘Or option 3, I get up right now and pretend I was never here…yeah imma go with that one.’ You grab your bag and small pouch of fudge that you purchased – you said you didn’t like learning about it, not that it wasn’t delicious – and walk right past the door just as it opens.

“Funny seeing you here.”

You stop in your tracks, scrunching your face in a “the world hates me” type of manner before turning around.

“Oh yeah. I was just in the neighborhood. Small town, you know?” You shift back and forth on your feet as you come face to face with your outcast acquaintance for the first time, both of you standing at your full heights. “Gosh, you’re tall.”

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckles before nudging towards your bag of fudge, “I see you went exploring…find anything interesting?”

“Nope, pretty much the same as every year. Dead white guys, how dead white guys used to treat people slightly differently than them, and fudge that could probably give a small village their needed sugar intake,” you say and jostle the bag, “though I will admit my tia’s flan could do just about the same.” 

He laughs, and all you could think about is how good of an alarm it would be.

‘Totally creepy Y/N, knock it off.’

You catch sight of the girl with the colorful hair just behind Xavier, and once again wonder what her whole ordeal is.

“Hey, so totally random,” you start and point your finger in the girl’s general direction, “you know people from your school right? Do you think you could tell me what her power is? The girl who looks like she’d eat cotton candy for its nutritional value.”

He turns around, glimpsing at the girl.

“That’s Enid. She’s a werewolf I believe. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I was just guessing everyone’s abilities while walking around earlier and could not guess hers for the life of me.” You announce dramatically before smiling, noticing he’s smirking right back at you.

“Guessing abilities huh? Okay then, let’s see what you’ve got.” He makes a sweeping gesture towards the crowd mixed with normies and outcasts.

“Okay bet.”

–

After that, the flow of conversation becomes easy. 

You start off with the ability guessing game, before making your way onto various topics ranging from the pilgrim world exhibits to a storytime about how you once got detention for eating flan in class.

“It wasn’t my fault! If anything, it was my teacher’s fault for making the class stay back 10 minutes from lunch because someone else was talking,” you exasperate, “I wouldn’t have had to eat it in class if I was given my allotted meal time.”

It seems as though the entire time, Xavier is staring at you. I mean yeah you’re having a conversation, and that would be proper etiquette, but still. He wasn’t just looking at you because you guys were talking, but he was actually attentive; taking in what you’re saying and staying engaged.

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve mentioned this flan. I might just have to try it one day.”

You smile up at him, feeling your face heat up at the simple fact that he has been listening to you this whole time. With how much you guys were talking, you hardly noticed how long you’ve been walking around.

“Do you wanna sit down for a bit? I think we’ve learned about every dead white guy who’s ever lived here,” he smiles softly and raises his eyebrows towards the same bench you were panicking on not too long ago.

‘Ay, it’s like he can read my mind. Literally what is happening right now.’

You take your previous seat, and he follows, sitting beside you. You glance around Pilgrim World, the crowds starting to dissipate as the day passes.

“You never guessed what my ability was,” Xavier says, looking straight ahead.

“I’m not really sure to be honest. I don’t think you transform into anything, and I’m sure you can’t read minds,” and you thank Jesus for that. “I’m thinking more of a physical ability. Maybe something creative? You have this whole…lone wolf artsy guy type of vibe going on,” you say and gesture towards him.

He’s silent for a moment. 

‘Oh shit did I say something wrong?’

“It’s so easy to tell when you're internally panicking,” he drops his head with a chuckle before looking back at you, “you’re right though.”

“That wasn’t funny Xavier.” You push him with your shoulder and giggle a bit.

He raises his hands in a surrendering gesture before continuing.

“My bad, it’s just funny to see you all riled up and flustered.”

“Funny…” you say and side-eye him.

“Adorable, actually.”

Your face heats up.

“Anyways…so you’re into art? I remember seeing you at the store a few weeks ago and it looked like you were buying art supplies.”

“Surprised you could tell. You know, with you hiding behind your computer and everything.”

You give him a straight stare.

He lightly puffs out air before continuing with a grin, “I dabble in art a bit. I can sorta make my drawings move a bit? Like an animation sort of. It’s hard to explain.”

“You should show me sometime,” you say with no hesitation or regret. Hey, there’s a first time for everything.

He gives you a small nod and a “oh yeah, for sure” before glancing to the side. All the Nevermore students are starting to get together to leave back to campus.

You both stand and start taking slow steps towards the group. Xavier stops when you’re still a few feet away from everyone else and faces you.

“Text me, yeah? I wanna have your number so we can keep talking without having to randomly run into each other.”

You nod and wave him off, your cheeks left hurting from smiling for hours. You grab your phone from your back pocket, along with the cup sleeve that has the phone number written across it. You punch in the number, create a contact, and type a small message.

Sent

–

Xavier’s POV 

I’m sitting in the back of the bus; glancing out the window as we drive past the town buildings, heading towards the forestry marking our descent to the academy. It’s only been a few minutes since I’ve left Pilgrim World when my phone vibrates in my lap: a message from an unknown number.

‘You know what sounds fantastic right now…flan - Y/N’

I chuckle quietly to myself, adding Y/N to my contacts before looking back out the window with a content sigh.

This is so much worse then the first one (I cannot do dialogue oml)...also I take it back I’m not gonna do a taglist bcs I realized how tiring it is to keep track of those once they get longer (but I tagged the few who asked already). 

If I end up making a part 3, it will include the confession!

I no longer support Percy Hynes White and will no longer take request for Xavier Thorpe.

taglist (not open,, will be deleting)

@betray-jaes @moatsnow @godess-of-mist @l4venderia @gengen64 @rayliz793 @honey-with-tea​ 

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday show #xavier thorpe x you #y/n #fem!reader #ff #imagine #oneshot #escapism #x reader #atpsnty #fanfiction #drabble #xavier thorpe oneshot #hispanic!reader

[havecourage-darling]

Magnificently cursed

Part 2, follow up to: Right to the bone || Masterlist || AO3

pairing: Eddie Munson x Adopter! Hopper Female Reader

wc: 14K

warnings: cursing, angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, post S4, eddie munson lives tyvm, all around healing

A/N: I like using adopted readers so that any race/size/characteristic can be interchanged – also I have last name to use lmao - I do have one tiny bit of dialogue that’s important to the relationship for hopper x reader that’s a little OC tbh. I’m sticking to x reader because that’s all I have in mind for her but absolutely feel free to disregard it if it throws you off.

“Oh, look,” Karen Wheeler said, pointing at an old manicure set that you and Nancy religiously used in middle school. Her eyes softened, the corners looking misty. “You two would be in the basement, giggling and dancing around to that awful music.”

Nancy had insisted that you stay with her while you were in Hawkins. Steve argued the same – Dustin jumping in for additional chaos – and you ended up promising to split your week between the two of them. You’d assured everyone that after you found your sister, you’d stay wherever they wanted.

“Mom!” Nancy protested. “That was good music.”

“Yeah,” you said, bumping your hip with hers. “Sure, it was.”

You were helping everyone pack up donations before you’d start your search for Joyce and El in earnest. While the earthquakes hadn’t been fatal, many were still affected. Steve helped you pack the box into his car and Robin slumped over onto the bumper. “I can’t believe you’re back.”

“Again, you saw me like four months ago!”

“Yeah, that’s four months too long – we’re best friends! Best friends see each other, like daily,” she huffed.

Steve and you rolled your eyes together. “I would happily have you stay over again,” you said, bumping her shoulder with your own.

“You look different, even before you went to see loverboy,” Robin noted, “you look more…you.”

Steve slumped next to you, his fingers coming up to your forearm, and you smiled. Everyone was skirting around you with fleeting touches, like they were afraid you’d disappear if they didn’t. “You look different,” Steve agreed, “better.”

“Are you saying I looked horrible before?” You were teasing but you knew what you’d looked like in November. Somedays it felt like she was still hiding in the shadows within you.

Mischievous smile in place, Steve huffed. “That’s exactly what I meant.”

The weather was a bit chillier than normal, as if Hawkins realized summer needed to wait a little longer. You raised your hand, fingers itching to tug at a strand of Steve’s hair, when a loud honk startled you all.

A pizza van pulled up at the end of the Wheeler’s driveway and you furrowed your brow. “Did anyone order pizza?” Steve asked, standing up, always protective.

Out from the van, stepped Mike.

“Mike?” Steve uttered, looking confused. Your eyes, however, were stuck on the girl whose hand was in Mike’s.

“El?” You called out, stepping out from behind Steve. “Eleven?”

Her eyes brightened, face betraying her surprise, and you didn’t know you were flying up the driveway until her body collided with yours painfully. “Oh my God, you’re okay,” you whispered, clutching her to you like she’d evaporate.

“Sister,” she mumbled, tears in her voice. “You’re here? In Hawkins?”

“Your hair,” you said, rubbing a palm over her buzzed head. What happened? Annoyed, you leaned back and pinched her arm.

“Ouch!”

“Don’t you ever, ever, disappear like that without telling me! Okay? You’re my responsibility! You are my little sister and superpowers or not I will ground you until you’re thirty if you ever do that again!”

“She kind of, uh, saved the world,” Mike added, a few steps behind her. You whirled your glare around to him and he shrank back. Dustin snorted and came up to hug him.

“Stay in your lane kid,” Robin said around a cough.

Turning back to El, you saw the tears fall down her face, your threats completely falling short. “I missed you,” she said, tucking herself into your arms. “I missed you a lot.”

“Me too,” you crumbled, the weight of the last few days finally crashing into you and the reality of having her in your arms caught up to you.

“Crying?” She said, leaning back to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?” You sighed, then, you caught sight of Will. “Holy shit, you’re all here. Where’s Joyce?”

Will, not needing more than a little encouragement, jogged into your arms. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure it is, Will the Wise,” you said, kissing his temple. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

Sinking into the group hug that Mike and Dustin joined in on, you grinned, your heart jumping at the fact that your little family was back together. Glancing over at Nancy, you caught someone else’s eyes.

“Jonathan Byers,” you said, breaking away from everyone else.

He untangled himself from Nancy and shook his head. “Hopper.”

You both blinked at each other before you threw yourself at him. Like always, he caught you. Twirling you midair, you felt tears build at the sight of your best friend.

While you’d become friends with everyone at their own pace – Robin and Dustin had to work a little hard to get you to admit the The King of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington was changed – the very first person to become your friend in Hawkins had been Jonathan Byers. He had been in every single one of your classes in middle school. He was quiet, kind, and let you play around with his new camera that his mom had gotten him.

He listened whenever you started having your panic attacks, he let you sleepover when your dad worked nights, and he never judged you for the time you’d spent crying over a mother you’d likely never see again. He’d been the one to call you every day for months while you sat miles away from each other. Eddie always used to say that he’d met you first but Jonathan had wiggled his way in faster.

Jonathan Byers had been the first person you’d trusted with your secrets, with your truth, and that would never change.

“I missed you shithead,” you said, tucking your face into his neck. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, hand coming up to the back of your head, “are you?”

“I think so,” you sniffled, trying to reel in your emotions. “A lot has happened.”

“Yeah, it has. Nothing hot cocoa and some James can’t help us through?” He asked and the memory snuck up on you.

“Honey, are you sure you don’t want to tell your dad what happened?” Joyce asked, her warm hand rubbing comforting shapes into your back. “He’s going to find out eventually.”

“Not today,” you sniffled, wiping the tears from your face. “Is it – is it that noticeable?”

Carol, a stupidly pretty popular girl had managed to trip you before last period. Her entourage had laughed, giggling loudly, and you had been certain they’d broken your nose.

Nancy and Barb had come to your rescue, picking you up and ushering you off to the nurse’s office. She’d refused to let you go without a parent so when Barb had called Jonathan, who had been so mad he’d kicked a trash can over, he’d called his mom.

“It’s just swollen but it’ll be bruised tomorrow,” she fretted, telling Will to bring you another bag of frozen peas. “Does it hurt?”

“Not as much anymore,” you said, voice thick, “the painkillers are helping.”

“I had bullies too, you know,” she told you as Jonathan sat on your other side. His arm came around your shoulder protectively. “They were relentless.”

“Really?” Will said, looking up from where he sat by your feet, fresh ice pack in his hands.

“Yeah! There’s always girls and boys like that. But let me tell you guys something, they never have the last laugh. My mom always told me – for moments like these, there’s nothing hot cocoa and James Brown can’t fix.”

“Hot cocoa?” Will laughed, the sound filling the home. “Mom it’s hot outside!”

“We’ll put some ice in it!” She said, disappearing through the kitchen. “You know where the vinyl is!” When she didn’t hear the music, her head popped in from the door frame. “Jonathan!”

He laughed and walked over to the record player. With care, he dropped the vinyl into place and James Brown’s voice burst through the living room.

Get up offa that thing,

and dance 'till you feel better!

Will shot to his feet, familiar with the routine. Jonathan and Will bounced around the living room, singing along with the music. You rolled your eyes and let yourself be pulled to your feet. Soon, you were bumping your hip with Joyce’s and laughter spilled from your chocolate-stained lips.

“That song has healing powers,” you said, finally releasing him, “it’s still cold enough at night to make hot cocoa acceptable.”

“If not, we can just put some ice in it,” Jonathan said, smiling. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and squeezed your shoulder. “I thought you were never coming back here again?”

“Yeah, well,” you looked at your feet, scuffing your shoe into the gravel. “He had to go ahead and get hurt. Hawkins’ Hospital called me to let me know.”

“You’ve seen him?”

Nodding, your hand came up to the necklace. “Yeah, we’ve talked.”

“And?” He asked, ducking to try and catch your gaze. While it’d taken a while for Jonathan to warm up to Eddie, after four years – you’d all been a misfit group of friends. You knew they still talked often, despite him denying it, Jonathan was always a bad liar. Even through the hundreds of miles and a phone you could always tell.

“And, I don’t know,” you shrugged, “we’ll see.”

Jonathan whistled. “That’s a huge step up from ‘I don’t care if he falls into a lake and drowns.’ You’ve really matured in college.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, pinching his arm.

“Still aggressive I see,” he groaned, rubbing the reddening skin.

Rolling your eyes, you tucked your arm through his and sighed. “You saw me three months ago at Christmas.”

“Yeah, and you were aggressive then too.”

Snorting, you watched everyone pile their donations into Steve’s car and make plans to catch up later. “Shut up, Byers.”

“We actually have to talk,” Jonathan said, motioning for you to follow him into the van. At the look you give it, he sighed. “It’s a long story, just – hop in for a second.”

You climbed in after him and settled in the backseat. The van smelled faintly of sweat and blood but you tried not to question things after everything you’d seen.

“Have you talked to someone named Agent Stinson?” Jonathan asked, eyes on the kids outside. Keeping El within sight, you shifted and shook your head.

“She helped clear Eddie’s name, that’s all I know.”

Jonathan sighed. “It’s been a really, really complicated last few days. She reached out to me, after we started making our way here. She told me that everything was going to be rocky for a little while. That the government was in some type of disagreement.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, not understanding.

“I don’t know but, Hop, she told me to keep El safe. That they’d send reinforcements soon but we needed to make sure she was hidden.” Jonathan’s tone struck you and El’s eyes caught yours. The memory swam up without much need and you remembered the first time your dad had found her. She was so small and scared of him but she’d taken to you almost immediately.

“We’re a family now, we all take care of each other.”

You were her guardian and you wouldn’t let her or your dad down. “Okay,” you said, more to yourself, “where do we hide her? My campus is pretty small and my apartment is pretty much in the middle of nowhere.”

“Don’t you think that’s where they’ll look for her first? With the daughter of the man that hide her?”

Shit. He was right – you’d need to move soon if you wanted to keep her safe.

“Don’t you think the Chief would be upset if you dropped out of school?”

“What other choice do I have?” You said, meaning it. “I can go back any time. I don’t have another sister. They can’t take her too. They’ve taken enough.”

“Hey,” Jonathan said, leaning over to grab your hand when your voice shook. “You’re not alone. The only benefit of this town? You’ve got a lot of help to pick from.”

“This cursed town,” you said, rubbing a hand down your face. “Alright. Let’s see what everyone else thinks.”

“It’s not bad,” Nancy said tentatively. You turned your wide-eyed gaze to her and she winced. “Come on, I’ve seen Mike’s room look worse.”

“Hey!”

You suppressed a smile, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. The cabin was��in rough shape. Almost sure that the last time you’d seen it was in the review mirror as you sped away from it and towards a general store you’d eventually break into.

After everything that had happened that night, returning to this cabin had been your last priority. El and you had gone through it to pick up what little was undamaged – she’d always loved your dad’s flannels and you’d managed to find his favorite watch. A sunbeam blinded you momentarily, the massive hole in the roof serving as an unintended rustic skylight.

“I don’t know about this,” you said to a skeptical looking Will.

He sighed and looked around the corner. “It was worse in my memory,” he admitted. You smiled, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him to you.

“I missed you,” you told him, “I don’t like living so far away from you.”

Will ducked his head, still reminding you of a puppy – ever loveable and something you wanted to protect. “Me neither, it sucks.”

“California must be nice though, make any new friends since Christmas?” You asked, nodding to Jonathan when he pointed towards the door. Nancy shot you a look and you waved her off.

A pointed silence answered the question for you and you turned to look at El. She shifted her face but you’d seen the look she was shooting Will.

“Eleven Hopper!” You called out, feeling silly for being worried about people bullying your sister when her life was still on the line but – that’s what family did. Worried about everything. She pretended not to hear you and grabbed a garbage bag. Following her into what used to be her room, you noticed that it didn’t actually look too bad.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, “it doesn’t matter now anyway.”

You shot her a look and she shot you one back. “Eleven.”

“Did you see Eddie?” She asked, switching the subject innocently. The murmuring outside stopped and you knew those two were snooping. By the wide grin on El’s face – she knew it too. With a shake of her head, she threw out her hand and the door closed. You both glanced at it and you knew she was thinking the same.

With almost a reluctance, she opened it back up. “Three inches,” you muttered, remembering how he’d glare at Eddie and Mike.

“You kissed a lot,” El said, as if she hadn’t been doing the same thing. “Did you see him? Dustin said he was hurt.”

“Yeah,” you said, sitting on the dusty mattress and looking down at your hands. “I saw him.”

The bed dipped with El’s weight as she settled next to you. “Still hurts a lot?” She asked softly, her hands settling on your fidgeting ones. Her warmth sunk into your skin, making you feel like you were a cat curling up in a sunbeam.

Habit had you nodding but you stilled midway through. Had him pushing you away hurt? Yeah. It had. Had you tried your best to not love him anymore? Every day since you drove past the Hawkins’ sorry to see you go! sign. Had it worked? No.

There was something knotted inside you, something messy that you’d been avoiding. It wasn’t an open wound, it wasn’t healed, but it’d stopped feeling like you needed morphine to deal with it. As much as you loathed to admit it – Jonathan had been right.

“I know it hurts,” Jonathan said, arms around you tightening. Nancy placed a mug of tea at the table in front of you and settled into your other side. Her hands came up to your back, soothing and comforting.

“He said he heard me tell Steve that I was considering dropping out,” you sniffled, “he didn’t even let me explain.”

At the silence, you glanced up and saw Jonathan shoot Nancy a look.

“What?” You asked, annoyed.

“Nothing,” Nancy said quickly.

Knowing he was easier to break, you turned your swollen, miserable eyes towards Jonathan. He frowned, eyes not even meeting yours, and Nancy sighed. “I think how he did it was stupid. I’m not taking his side, but…”

“But?” You asked, a little indignant.

“But!” Jonathan squeezed your shoulder. “He’s not entirely wrong. I know you’re grieving; I know that. But…putting off college forever?”

“Some people do it!”

Nancy nodded emphatically, supporting you while shooting Jonathan a withering glare. “Yeah, but are you one of those?” Jonathan asked, his voice quiet but landing sharply. “You have a right to deal with this however you want, but both of you were in over your heads. I think…if you’re not going to college you should come with us to California.”

Before you could interject with all the indignance you could muster, he put his hand up to stop you.

“When Will was missing, what did you tell me?”

Deflating, you dropped your eyes to the steaming mug on the table. “I told you not isolate yourself. That I had your back.”

“We’re family,” Jonathan said, surprising you with the ferocity in his tone – as if he was daring you to object. “You’re my family and you are drowning here. I cannot leave knowing that you’ll be alone.”

“I wouldn’t have been alone! I would’ve had him!”

“Don’t you think that’s a lot to ask of just one person?” Jonathan asked gently. “He doesn’t know what’s going on, what really happened. Eddie would jump in front of a bullet for you, anyone can see that. But…you don’t want to tell him the truth.”

Shame trickled down your back. “No. He doesn’t – I don’t want to put a target on his back. He already has enough to deal with. My dad…he said…no.”

“Okay,” Nancy said, “that’s okay.”

“Eddie would run himself to the ground if it meant your happiness,” Jonathan said softly, “but what we’ve been through – what you’re going through – you need more than just him. I don’t want your happiness to fall solely on his shoulders. California is sunny…it’s got beaches…”

You squared your shoulders. “Well, I don’t have him anymore, do I? He’s decided for the both of us that I’m not worth the trouble.”

They shared a pointed glance but you felt your resolve cement itself in place. He didn’t want you here? Fine. You’d leave because what had this town brought you but heartbreak? You’d never be able to go anywhere without seeing the ghosts of the people you loved. Echoes of memory that would haunt you forever. At least with Hawkins, you would be the one leaving.

“Still hurts, not a lot,” you mumbled, “it’s complicated.”

El nodded, like she understood, and it made you smile. “Do you want to be with him?”

“I don’t know,” you said, not wanting to deal with the repercussions of either answer to that question. Either way, you’d both need to talk and you weren’t ready. Not yet. “It hurts to look at him. He’s not a ghost – like everyone else.”

“He loves you.”

You shrugged. “He says he does.”

“Not a question,” El said, smile small, “not opinion, fact. Eddie loves you.”

Heart skipping, you bit down on your cheek and nodded. “Yeah, I think he does.”

“He’s your best friend?”

Eyes stinging, you picked at a loose thread the corner of the mattress. “One of them, yes.”

“That hurts more?”

“Yeah.”

“Needs more time?” She asked, looking like she understood more than you did.

You brought her into your arms, needing the closeness. “I think so.”

“He’ll wait.”

Saved from having to answer, you realized something. “Do you hear a car?”

El stood, walking out to the window and shaking her head. “I don’t see anything.” The sound of slamming car doors had you standing immediately. You darted over to the window and cursed. They must’ve parked by the side.

Straining to hear what was going on, you made to walk over to the door. El’s grip on your wrist stopped you. “We can’t just sit here,” you whispered, noticing that everyone had gone quiet. Surely if something bad had happened, someone would’ve yelled? Not if they were all unconscious, your mind supplied helpfully. Jesus, you’d been here less than forty-eight hours and this town had you paranoid again.

“Nowhere to go,” she whispered, fingers squeezing your tightly. “I’ll protect you.”

Affection and protectiveness surged in you and you shook your head. “Stay behind me, I don’t want you to be the first thing they see,” you said, pulling a pocket knife from your waistband. A habit you’d picked up again from the moment you crossed the town line.

“Ready?” You asked. El nodded, hand raising, and you listened as heavy footsteps echoed towards you.

When you were in high school, Julia Young had beaten you for valedictorian by half a point. Something you were still a little petty about to this day. Suffice to say, you were smart. You were a good study and an avid reader. Having read thousands of books at this point in your lifetime, you were no stranger to the description of being so stunned, the world stopped spinning. A gross exaggeration, you’d always thought, at this point – nothing had the ability to stun you into immobility. You’d learned to be light and fast on your feet. Being still was asking for trouble.

As the door opened and El pushed past you, flinging herself into your father’s arms, you finally understood what they were talking about. The earth paused in its rotation; time ceased to exist as you heard the knife in your hand clatter to the floor. Your skin felt like it was aflame and every nerve in your body fought the urge to run. It’d been your basic instinct when facing the unknown – flight.

“Hey squirt,” the apparition said, tears in his eyes.

“Sister?” Eleven called out, stepping towards you. Adrenaline kicking in, you felt black spots dance in your vision and you backed away. Feeling like cornered animal, your hackles rose and you wanted to bare your teeth. In the absence of an escape, fight instincts kicked in.

The ghost standing in front of you held out a hand towards a confused looking El and stepped slowly towards you. “I know, sweetheart, I know. It’s me, I promise,” he said, hands up.

Your therapist’s voice echoed her advice. Repeat your mantra when you aren’t sure what’s real and what isn’t. Remember your mantras. “My dad is dead. Sara is dead. My mom is gone.” You said to yourself, pinching your skin. “My sister is in California. The gate is closed. We are safe.” Chest heaving, your breath came in strangling short pants. Your mind couldn’t comprehend how both the man and these facts could exist in the same room.

The moment you saw his heartbreak in his eyes, the worried wrinkle that was unique to Jim Hopper, one you’d seen on his face your whole life, something inside you cracked.

“You hated it when I called you squirt,” he said, knowing that you needed a moment, “Sara gave you that bracelet the day she was transferred into the intensive care unit. Saturday mornings are for cartoons and cereal in bed. Sunday nights are for pizza and dance parties. On your first day of high school, I asked you if you wanted me to drive you in and you looked horrified and told me-”

“-they’re going to think I’m a narc, please don’t even look at me when we’re in public,” you finished for him, faintly feeling embarrassed by teenage you. With reluctance, at a snail’s pace, you stretched a trembling finger towards his offered palm. The moment you touched, his face smoothed like you were a balm over a wound, and everything within you crumbled.

The shock dulled down to a manageable level, your survival’s mode shutting down, and you heaved out an earth-shattering sob. “Dad?” You said, feeling like a little girl running through piles of crunchy leaves in New York, laughing as he chased you around the park.

You watched the hesitance around him disappear and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. Body wracking sobs shook you as your fingers clutched at him, like he’d disappear at any moment. How was this possible? How was he alive? He rocked you both, like you were that little girl again and he was what stood between you and the world. You tucked your face into his shoulder and inhaled desperately for air around your tears. The smell of cigarettes, laundry detergent, and wood flooded your senses. A feeling of complete and utter safety – one that had been ripped away from you, almost brutally - slammed back into place like it was a rubber band returning to its previous shape.

“I missed you squirt,” he said, hand cupping the back of your head. “I’m sorry for doing that to you. I’m so sorry.”

Tears burned your eyes and you leaned back enough to see El hovering tentatively, her own eyes watery. You opened your arm and she all but crashed into you both. “Oof,” he grunted, smile widening, “you two are too old to be climbing over me like this. My bones are not what they were you know.”

“You’re so…skinny,” you said, a little dismayed.

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound bringing a fresh round of tears to your eyes. You wanted to bottle it and hoard it forever. You never thought you’d hear that sound again, not in this lifetime.

“Don’t worry, a few weeks back in the U.S. will get me fattened up in no time,” he joked. Everything else may have changed but that glint in his eyes hadn’t dulled. Eleven’s hand came up to cradle his cheek and he squeezed both your hands. “My girls.”

“Dad,” El breathed, looking at you and you knew she was processing it also. “How?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, “I’m realizing you two might have one for me too.”

“Yeah,” you said, straightening. “Are you alone?”

His eyes lit up and you looked over his shoulder to see a beaming Joyce. El jumped up and sped across the doorframe towards her. You waved, her familiar smile warming you. A small nudge to your shoulder moved you forward. “It’s okay, I won’t disappear,” he said, releasing your hand. Bone deep fear had you scrambling for his arm, clinging to it like a life raft. His eyes went round with a mixture of sadness and reassurance. “I’m sorry I did that to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, knowing that without needing any explanation. He would’ve never voluntarily left either of you. Not in any lifetime or dimension. “I may be a little different than when you last saw me. I – a lot has changed.”

Your dad smiled, his arm coming around your shoulder and squeezing you tightly. “Me too but that’s okay.”

“Yeah?” You ducked your head, not wanting to show how deeply that reassurance had affected you. Isn’t that what you’d been searching for? Someone to tell you that it was all going to be okay?

“I’m still your father. You’re still my daughter. That’s all we need to know right?”

Eyes going up to his, you rested your chin on his chest and smiled sadly. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too squirt,” he kissed the top of your head and rested his cheek there. “Deep breaths. Count to ten.”

“Then let go,” you whispered.

You couldn’t sleep.

Which…wasn’t new. The tall order of grief, anxiety, and panic had come with a side order of insomnia for you. It came and went in waves; you’d learned to accept it – knowing usually that sleep would eventually call on you again.

Though, you knew this night you couldn’t necessarily blame yourself. Glancing at the sleeping lump in the bed next to yours, you thought you’d earned some grace in terms of your insomnia considering your dead father had come back from the grave.

Snorting at yourself, you sighed. To say it’d been a long day would’ve been an understatement. Your dad had refused to let anyone sleep in the condemned cabin, you’d gloated when Eleven rolled her eyes, and suggested a motel. So, you’d all piled into two cars and driven to the outskirts of town. Renting two rooms, in a mostly abandoned looking hotel, and buying almost everything off their room service menu, you’d all started explaining your sides to the story.

You had truly seemed to have escaped the worst, in your bubble up on campus. Everyone had rushed to assuage your guilt, knowing you’d asked to be left alone out of necessity and not for lack of caring. The overwhelming wave of emotions had been kept at bay but something inside you had broken when you caught sight of your dad’s scars.

“They don’t hurt,” he said, hand coming up to cradle your cheek. “I’m okay, kiddo. Really.”

“I’m not,” you told him, honestly.

His face twisted into something understanding and you relished in the fact that you’d gotten that back. Someone who understood you without needing any words.

The reason, however, as to why you couldn’t sleep this particular night was something you couldn’t have seen coming.

Your father was alive. Your sister was protected. The gate was closed. You were safe. Trying to ignore it again, you closed your eyes and tried to count down from a hundred.

This was absolutely ridiculous, you told yourself, snapping your eyes open after you’d reached thirty-two.

Eleven shifted next to you in the bed, the blankets pulled up to her ears. Your father’s snores, which at first had incredibly comforting to hear since not a week ago you would have traded your soul to be able to hear them again, had grown annoying very quickly. They’d never bothered you before – but you’d also always had a door between them and you.

But that wasn’t what was stopping you.

Throughout the four years you’d spent together with Eddie, the last two and half had consisted of both of you sleeping over each other’s homes. Wayne and your dad had worked a lot of nights, despite the latter’s disapproval, there wasn’t much aside from a cross country move that would keep you two apart. Two people in love the way you had been, it was almost impossible.

In the summer after your dad had died, with your cabin and home destroyed, El had gone to live with the Byers and you’d alternated your time between Joyce’s house and Eddie’s trailer. One could say, you’d gotten very, very used to sleeping with a stupidly tattooed arm wrapped around your waist.

The first month at college had been the hardest. You’d barely slept in the silence or solitude. In the Byers’ home you could always hear someone snoring, mumbling, playing music, or El’s drowsy huffs on your arm. In the trailer park, aside from Eddie’s sleep mumbling, his neighbors were nocturnal and their noise eventually became what lulled you to sleep.

In a small college campus apartment, one you had to yourself, with quiet and courteous neighbors, you had silence and an empty bed.

Like most things, you’d gotten used to it. And now, on day two hundred and twenty of having had adjusted to being alone, you were going to go insane. You were so tired. The emotional rollercoaster that you’d been through was enough to fry your brain into next year. It had been too much for your body and you needed to sleep before you cracked.

For some god forsaken reason, it seemed like your body had reawakened and knew that stupid tattooed arm was within driving distance. It was like you were an addict and someone had dropped a glass of scotch in front of you, your fingers couldn’t help but twitch towards it. You’d been in town for three days now and hadn’t been back to visit him.

As the shock passed, it was getting easier not to panic when your dad wasn’t in your immediate line of vision. You felt like a toddler, stumbling two steps behind your him, fingers constantly reaching out for reassurance. El had taken it all in stride and you tried not to be jealous, how quickly she’d accepted her new normal. Your dad hadn’t minded, he told you, he knew – like he always did.

Part of you was afraid that all this been a fever dream. Another part of you was scared because you knew you could only avoid the conversation with Eddie for so long. You were worried though, worried that there was too much between you that it’d be impossible to move on from. Despite your dad’s recent resurrection, you had been irrevocably changed. You were marked. There would always be a before and an after.

Before your dad died. After he died. Before mom left, after mom left. Before El, after El. Before Hawkins, after Hawkins. Before Eddie broke your heart, after Eddie broke your heart. You had previously been unmoved in the face of the turmoil but now – there was a you before and you after. What if the you after needed to continue with this new life? What if you owed it to the new you to keep the past in the past? She hadn’t clawed her way up to the surface only to be dragged down into the waters again.

It was exhausting.

After you glanced at the clock for the seventh hundred time, the 3:13AM mocking you, you heaved yourself up. Both deep sleepers barely noticed and you grabbed your keys. Slipping a sweater over your head and your feet into shoes, you hastily wrote a note just in case and snuck out into the hallway.

“This is so stupid,” you mumbled to yourself. And yet, you still slid into your car and drove your way to the hospital.

“Hi Ms. Hopper!” The nurse from the first night waved. You startled, realizing that she had remembered you. “Are you excited?”

“I’m sorry?”

The woman’s eyes brightened. “We just got the news today! Eddie should be able to go home in a few days. Some stitches got taken out and they all looks good.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you said, actually meaning it.

“Go on, he’s been dozing in and out all night – you look ready to drop at any moment.”

You smiled and padded quietly into Eddie’s room. He was on his side, TV in the corner playing Mary Poppins. “Sadie, I promise I won’t get up again you don’t have to keep checking in on me.”

“Who’s Sadie?” You asked, leaning against the door frame.

Eddie surged up, startled, and winced. His hand came up to his stomach and he groaned. “You scared the shit out of me sweetheart. Sadie’s the nurse on shift tonight who threatened to snap my knee caps if she saw me wandering the halls again.”

Biting back a smile you nodded to the TV. “I thought you hated this movie.”

You expected him to tease you, make a crude remark, or pretend like it’d been the only thing on. Instead, he shrugged. “It’s one of your favorites.”

You reverently ignored the way your heart flipped at his admission.

“It was Sara’s favorite,” you said quietly, remembering your sister’s awed stare whenever the penguins would come on. “It reminds me of her.”

“I know,” he said, brown eyes meeting yours. “It reminds me of you. Sometimes it’s the only thing I can sleep to.”

The honesty on his expression cracked something within you. Another piece of stone fell from your defenses and you furrowed your brows. “You’re so confusing, you didn’t used to be,” you told him.

“I know,” he sighed, shifting onto his back, “I’m trying to get back to who I was.”

“Why?”

Eddie smiled sadly. “He was the one you loved. The one you wanted to stay for. The one worth something.”

“He was also the one who pushed me away,” you said quietly, ignoring the way his face fell, “I don’t think the new Eddie is so bad anyway.”

“Yeah?”

The admission struck you deeply, and you padded over to the seat by his bed. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“I’ve all but asked Sadie to handcuff me to the rail of this bed so I wouldn’t call and ask when you were coming to visit,” Eddie said, “so I don’t really care why, as long as you stay.”

You smiled hating how easy it was to be in his presence. How had you forgotten that being around him was so calming? It made you realize you’d been hiding this too – this longing for him that never really stopped.

“I had to learn to sleep without you,” you told him, eyes going down to his legs, “without all the noise and the people and everything. My apartment faces a row of residential houses so, there’s barely ever any noise. I haven’t…I’m not seeing anyone. It’s been just me, for the last eight months. I learned to sleep alone. I learned how to be alone again.”

“Yeah?” He said, closing his eyes. “I don’t think I ever learned how to be without you. I still can’t sleep on your side of the bed. Don’t think I can. That’s the curse of my life.”

“And it’s been approximately,” you checked your watch, “seventy-seven hours of me being back here, knowing you’re okay, and my body just won’t fucking shut down.”

“What?”

You ran a frustrated hand down your hair. “Eddie, I’ve been awake for most of those seventy hours. After my dad – oh, my dad-” You didn’t know if Eddie knew.

His expression turned soft and his eyes shot you a happy look. “Dustin told me. Even if I had the words, and half a brain to be able to say them, I wouldn’t be able to explain how happy I am for you. How did it go?”

“It’s been weirdly hard. I’m happy, obviously, but I…I’d been moving on and this somehow feels like a huge step sideways,” you waved a hand in the air, “all of this does.”

“I get that,” Eddie said, yawning.

“The point is,” you grumbled, “I’m so strung out, it’s like my mind won’t let me rest. I don’t know why my brain picked you again but it did. I just…I just need one night. Please. I’m so tired.” You were reaching a state of delirious that you’d only ever known during finals week.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re asking me,” he said, brows furrowing. “Whatever it is you need or want, you can have it.”

You swallowed your pride and tried to avoid his eyes. “Can I sleep here? With you?”

Eddie’s brows disappeared into his hair. “Like…sleep sleep or sleep-”

“Oh my God, Eddie!” Surprised laughter bubbled out of you. “Only you, I swear only you.”

“What? I’m sure we wouldn’t be the first ones to do it,” he huffed, tone letting you know he’d been joking.

A temporary lightness settled between you two, pushing the heavier stuff off for another day.

“I think, I’m coming to terms with the fact that I learned that I was capable of being out on my own but – now that I’m in the same place where you are, I don’t want to sleep on my own.” Admitting that left you feeling oddly vulnerable and you knew you’d blame it on your exhaustion if he asked.

Eddie’s face wasn’t critical, it seemed to grow fond, the way it used to when you asked him if he’d go on night drives with you. “Hop, you never have to ask,” Eddie said, offering out his hand. “You own every part of me, physical or otherwise. Take whatever you need.”

The breath in your chest froze and you didn’t know what to do with that answer. So, you turned slightly towards the door and motioned to the nurse’s station. “I can ask for the fold out bed.”

“Sweetheart, we’ve been apart – how many nights?”

“Two hundred and twenty,” you said, a little embarrassed.

Eddie smiled, his eyes glinting. “Don’t you think that’s long enough?” He scooted over to the left of his bed, clearing a spot for you. “Come on, I’ll let you be the little spoon. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

Awkwardly, you crawled into the bed – trying to avoid all his wires and any injuries. “I’m not made of glass, Hop, it’s okay.”

Tension settling in your shoulders, you turned your back to him and you could feel his hesitance. His bandaged hand came up to your waist and you fought back the bubbling memories.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, his voice sounding strangled, “I don’t – this didn’t used to be so…”

“New?”

His eyes turned down, sadness flashing across them, and you sighed. You’d never be able to sleep if you didn’t try. You’d been the one to come down here. With a few careful movements, you shifted to your other side so you were face to face.

“Listen, if you want to be the big spoon I have no qualms,” Eddie joked and you knew it was his way of shielding himself. Keeping you at a distance in the same way you were. This whole week was giving you whiplash.

Bringing your hand up to his cheek, you traced a finger down his jaw, his stubble tickling you as you went. “Is this okay?” You asked, arms coming around his waist. Placing your head to his chest, you inhaled and the familiar scent of smoke and something sharp, calmed you almost instantly. It’d been so long since you felt yourself enveloped by it that your brain seemed to finally – finally! – shut down.

Eddie’s cheek came down to the top of your head and his arm pulled you tighter to him. “Yeah, this is okay sweetheart.”

 Eyes slipping closed, Eddie’s heartbeat and Julie Andrews’ voice filtered into your unconsciousness.

“Speaking of weather, the other day when it was so cold, a friend of mine went to buy some long underwear. The shopkeeper said to him, ‘How long do you want it?’ And my friend said, ‘Well, from about September to March!”

You huffed a drowsy laugh – Sara had always found that funny. Her giggles would fill the room, eyes crinkled and hands clapping in delight. Eddie’s hand came up to your hair, fingers soothing the ache the memory left behind. “Sleep, Firecracker,” he whispered, “I got you.”

And so, for the first time in days, with more plot twists than you could’ve planned for, you fell asleep.

“I don’t like this one,” Hopper said, nose wrinkling in aversion. El groaned, leaning her weight onto Mike and you sighed.

“There’s only so many houses for rent in Hawkins,” you said, “what’s wrong with this one?”

Your dad sighed, like you were both disappointing him for not seeing what he saw. Narrowing your eyes you crossed your arms and stomped over to him. “What’s really going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, pretending to examine the roof.

“Jim Hopper.”

Amusement bled into his expression but he kept his serious composure. “I die for nine months and you forget not to talk back to your old dad?”

“I’m glad we’re at the joking stage of this traumatic event,” you said dryly. “What’s. Going. On.”

He sighed, like you had a knife to his throat, and waved an arm. “Do we even want to stay in Hawkins?” He asked.

“Well, we’re not buying anything, we can leave,” you added. “Why don’t you visit California?”

He immediately frowned. “I was actually thinking Wisconsin.”

“Why?” You made a face.

“Well, that’s where you’re going to be most of the time,” he said, as if it was obvious. You scoffed.

“You can’t actually believe I’m going back.”

You dad blinked before laughing deeply. El smiled, hiding her amusement behind her hand and you glared at her. “Kid, you’re funny,” he said sighing, wiping away an imaginary tear, “you’re going back if I have to tie you to the chair in every one of your classrooms.”

“Dad-”

“It’s not up for discussion.”

Exhaling frustratedly, you crossed your arms and glared at him. “I think you forgot that in your absence I became the one who made decisions for myself.”

Frowning, he glared back at you and Joyce’s bright voice echoed as she came down the stairs. “I think this one’s nice! It’s certainly got enough bedrooms and you know the broker will probably rent it out cheap since it’s you…what happened?” She sighed. “I was gone for five minutes!”

“Ask him,” you said waving a hand in your dad’s direction.

Joyce shot him a disappointed look. “Hop.”

“She’s being unreasonable. She thinks she’s staying with us instead of going back to school.”

“I can’t believe you think I can even be at school right now!” At the sound of your voice cracking, his glare softened. Not wanting to hear it, you walked past them and out into the street. The house had been at the outskirts of Hawkins, near the town line, and in a nice neighborhood.

Following the path up the driveway, you climbed into your car and sighed. What was with all the men in your life trying to make decisions for you? Did everyone think you were incompetent?

“Are you going to slug me if I get in the car?” He asked, voice startling you.

You shrugged. He opened the passenger door and settled in, hands sliding across the dashboard. “Byers did a good job with it. I always thought you’d like this old girl.”

“She does the job,” you said, not wanting to admit how this car had been one of the only things keeping you sane in the past year. “She’s stubborn when she wants to be though.”

He laughed, a soft, short one and you crossed your arms. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ordered you around. I’m not…you’re a grown adult. The last few years has forced you to grow up faster than you needed to. You know what’s best for you and whatever that is, I support you.”

The words sounded suspiciously scripted and you looked at him from the corner of your eye. “Joyce help you with that?” You asked.

“I think if she could reach, she would’ve decked me,” he said.

At that, you laughed. Knowing Joyce, she probably would have. “I’m overwhelmed, Dad, I need…time to process. I’m still scared sometimes when I don’t have you both in my sight that you’ll be ripped away again. I need to adjust.”

“That’s fair,” he said, his hand engulfing yours. “Can we compromise?”

That sounded more like your dad. You bit your cheek to keep from smiling and raised a brow.

“You finish the semester out, we’ll rent some temporary housing up there with you, and then we figure out what we want to do after? You can take a year, we could travel, whatever you girls want. But, you’re almost at the end squirt, and if I know you as well as I do – you’re probably top of your class.”

You were, but you weren’t going to confirm that for him. The idea bounced around in your mind and you shook your head. “This house is nice and it feels like something you could settle in for a few months. El needs to be back with her friends and her family. This town might be cursed but it’s our curse now. She needs to adjust and I think we’ll be okay for the next two months.”

He eyed you, as if trying to assess if you were lying, and you rolled your eyes. “You were just a baby a few years ago, it feels like. Now you’re a grown woman, making decisions and taking charge.”

“It’s been more than a few years, Dad.”

He shook his head. “Come on then, if you like the house it’s good enough for me. We’ll call the broker. Joyce said she knew a place we could get some nice furniture.”

“Ah, Joyce said, huh?” You grinned when your dad avoided your eyes.

For the second night in a row, you found yourself at Eddie’s door. You could hear the sound of Mary Poppins again in the background, her song starting to wind down.

“I can hear you breathing,” his voice called out once it had ended.

Not wanting to reinforce the teasing, you hid your smile as you pushed the door open. “I am not a loud breather,” you said indignantly. His eyes twinkled and you stuck out your tongue at him.

“How’s the leg?” You asked when he didn’t speak, his eyes crawling over you like he was assuring himself you were really there.

He pulled himself up into seating position and you caught the wince he tried to cover up. “It’s fine, a lot easier to deal with compared to the stitches…everywhere.”

“I see Dustin’s been here,” you said, motioning towards the candy wrappers scattered on the left night table. “I thought you were on this strict diet until discharge?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide with an air of innocence that you didn’t believe for a second. “I don’t know what you mean. I’d never go against the rules, officer.”

Rolling your eyes, you padded over to the foot of his bed, hopping up onto it so you could lean against the railing. Eddie scooted over to the left so you’d have room to stretch your legs. “How’s the Chief?”

“Overwhelmed with the sudden attention,” you admitted, lacing your hands around your knee. “Seems when someone prolific dies and comes back to life it’s a big deal.”

“I understand that profoundly. People keep harassing Wayne for an interview. What’s he going to say? You all thought my nephew was a cult leader and a murderer? I think the hospital is the only thing keeping them at bay.”

“From my understanding, you’re a badass. You beat your monster from the upside down on your first run, none of us can say that,” you said, nudging his good leg with your foot.

Eddie smiled, his hand curling tentatively around your ankle. “I don’t know, you’ve always been badass to me.”

At your disbelieving scoff, Eddie shot you an insulted look. “Alright, alright,” you said with a laugh, “thanks, I guess.”

“Never did know how to take a compliment,” Eddie said after a beat.

The knot you’d been ignoring in your chest tightened at his tone. Breaking his gaze and turning to the window, the urge to turn and leave - before this cautious ease you had between you two fell apart - was strong.

Count to ten.

“I never actually heard your side of the story,” you said after you’d managed to control your flight instinct. “About what happened down there.”

Eddie’s eyes hadn’t strayed from you, in fact, like they usually did – the knowing gaze in them seemed to tell you he knew what you were doing. Feeling merciful, for once, he nodded. “It’s a long story,” he said, “and you owe me one too.”

You thought of Will when he barely reached your shoulder, of Dustin with his endearing gap tooth smile and Eleven – with her shaved head and big wide eyes. Flinching, you also remembered Jonathan as he threw himself over you when you’d tripped trying to shoot at the demogorgon in his house. How Steve had proven himself in your eyes when he all but cracked the baseball bat over its head. The panic you’d felt when the Russians had tied your hands together, punching Steve relentlessly as you screamed, pleading for his life.

You thought of Joyce. Her crumbling expression when Eleven asked her where your father was. How she had screamed, like it’d been ripped from her soul, and sobbed. How you went numb, like someone had plucked your soul right out of your body.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Eddie’s voice pulled you out of your spiral.

Blinking away your sister’s screams, you cleared your throat. “My story’s a bit long.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

Smiling, you glanced at his open expression and you nodded. “Yeah, okay.” As you recounted your nightmares, the last pieces of you that you’d kept hidden away from him, you felt something within you start to knit back together.

When you’d finished and Eddie had picked up where you’d left off, his wild expressions made you laugh. He’d wave his arms, told you in perfect detail how he’d had the most metal concert ever, and almost smacked you a few times. You wrung your hands together when he got to the part about the bats.

“I’ve spent my whole life running,” he said, earlier teasing tone fading.

Driven by habit, you placed your hand over his – touching him for the first time since you’d come in. “I told you. Anyone who’s new to all of this…. anyone would’ve run. I did. When you’ve got this big ass monster running after you, that’s scary, running is normal.”

“Still defending me huh?” Eddie asked, not really expecting an answer. His hand gripped yours tightly, like you’d snatch it away from him. He stared at the television, the movie long over, and sighed. “I ran from us. From you. And… when I heard them and looked up at Henderson – I thought of you.”

“Me?” Your bruised heart jumped into your throat. “Why?”

“Yeah,” he said, a strange expression taking over, “Wheeler said that if he won, it would’ve been the destruction of the whole world.”

You nodded, having heard Nancy’s side already.

“I care about them, you know, they believed in me. They wanted to help me,” he said, rubbing a hand through his hair, “but, even if it was the last thing I did in my stupidly short life, I couldn’t let him get to you.”

“Me?” You sounded like a broken record and by his smile, he knew it too.

“Wisconsin is not that far and the thought of you being dragged into this shit again, of putting you through that – of the destruction it’d cause. I could see your face so clearly in my head as I biked away from the bats. I know this doesn’t make up for anything I’ve done – or said – but, you’re the most important one out there, Hop.”

“Eddie,” you said, not knowing what to say.

“I didn’t understand how you could have kept this from me,” he laughed, the sound hollow, “I was a little mad after I found that you knew. That you’d gone through all that and didn’t share it with me. Then I thought of the times your dad pulled you from school to take you to visit a relative in what - New York?”

You smiled. The first time, after you’d gotten Will back, your dad had decided you needed time off. He’d booked two tickets to New York and you got to meet all his old co-workers. The second time, after Eleven had closed the gate and begged your dad to stay for the Snowball dance, he’d rented a cabin in the woods in Wisconsin. You’d actually had a campus tour that week. He taught El how to fish and you made her so many s’mores she complained of a stomach ache for the whole night. It…it helped with the nightmares.

“But then I realized when I was in there - how scared you must’ve been. For - for everyone and if you kept it from me how much it must’ve killed you too. And when I thought about what I would’ve done if it had been me. If I had been the one who couldn’t tell you, because everyone told me it was for your safety, well, I’d do anything - I’d give anything to protect you.”

He didn’t give you a moment to react, instead, launched into his rehab schedule and the copious amounts of physical therapy he had line up ahead. How he was probably finally going to graduate this year.

“Hey,” you said, not wanting him to think you were ignoring what was clearly something he’d been wanting to say, “next time, don’t put your life on the line. Nothing is worth that. Not even me. Okay?”

“I’ll do what I need to do,” he said, eyes teasing. He moved onto complaining about the paperwork and checkups he needed tomorrow to be ready to go home. You let him change the subject, neither of you were ready.

But… you saw the tips of ears redden, his eyes not meeting yours, and the way his words stumbled out clumsily. Suddenly, as if a key had latched successfully inside you, the knot in your chest loosened and it was easier to breathe.

For the first time in that week, you’d unglued yourself from your dad’s side during waking hours. Your fingers had tapped nervously along your sides the entire time, but you’d gotten a call from Wayne early in the morning. He’d found a small two-bedroom house a few streets down from the trailer park. It’d been cheap, he said with a wry smile, seemed like the town of Hawkins was finally making amends.

“Well, I think that’s it,” you said, dusting your hands and placing them on your hips. “Not much but a decent start, I think. Plus, the front door has enough space for Eddie’s wheelchair.”

Wayne leaned against the kitchen counter and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his wrist. “You think he’ll like it?”

Your heart surged at the question. “Yeah, Wayne, he’ll love it.”

He smiled, a little pleased thing, and you gave in to the urge to hug him. His arms came around you tentatively, like he was worried he’d said the wrong thing, but you just squeezed him tighter.

“I am so glad you’re okay,” you told him, “I missed you while I was away.”

A knowing look took over and you settled into a chair in the dining area. “We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?”

You smiled. “Since that first week I moved here,” you said, remembering Wayne’s unrelenting kindness towards you, even then. “You bought me my first cassette. The Beatles.”

“They still remind me of you,” Wayne admitted, smiling, “you sang that song all the time, since you were this tall.”

The silence you both settled in was comfortable, the nostalgia of each other’s company always welcome.

“I know that we’re not – we’re not blood,” Wayne said, clearing his throat, “I know I’m not much either.”

“Wayne-”

“Now, let me just say it,” he said, waving your concern off, “I always wondered if you were okay. After you father died, I saw how lost you were. I tried to be there for you but…it felt like you were disappearing. I know after Eddie – after everything that you wanted to get in that car and drive off without looking back.”

He walked over to the chair across from yours and sat with a grunt. “I don’t blame ya’, I would’ve done the same thing. But, even if life took you and Eddie down different paths, I’d still like to see you from time to time. If that’s okay.”

The surprise you felt was clearly written over your face because he laughed.

“Darlin’ you’ve been attached to the hip since you were middle schoolers. I’ve had the honor of seeing you grow up into an amazing young lady. I only want you to be happy and know that you’re not alone. I’m only an old man with almost nothing to his name but…well, you’ve got me on your side.”

“Wayne,” you started, tears stinging your eyes. He was right – you knew he was right.

How many mornings did Wayne find you sneaking out of Eddie’s room? How many countless nights did he bring you two dinner or reminded you both to study? How many times had he’d yelled at you two to cover up in the winter? To call when you’d gotten home safely? He’d driven you to school, to practice, to the Hideout, more times than you could count. Wayne wasn’t blood but he was still family. He was the uncle you never got to have, the silent but steady presence that you knew you could count on.

“I know my nephew’s made some mistakes,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head, “I can’t speak to things I don’t know but, I pushed away the love of my life and I’d hoped that the Munson Madness gene hadn’t been passed down to him but here we are. I just want you to know, that boy loves you. He’s dumb as rocks sometimes but love makes you do stupid things. It also sometimes isn’t enough to make up for the hurt, and that’s okay. You do what’s best for you, okay darlin’?”

“I hate you,” you told him, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

His eyes crinkled as he laughed, a deep, throaty laugh and you smiled. Wayne rarely laughed, but when he did, you’d never been able to stop yourself from joining.

“Whatever happens, wherever I am, I want you to know you’ve got me too,” you said, voice a little shaky. “You’ll always have me. The niece you never wanted but you got anyway.”

Wayne chuckled, pleased, and reached out to squeeze his hand. After a moment, you took a deep breath and pulled him up to his feet. “Come on Munson,” you said, hugging him. “You still need to do a grocery run and it’s getting late.”

“Ma’am yes, ma’am,” he joked and you rolled your eyes, following him out to his truck.

“I got you burgers,” you announced, brandishing the greasy bag with a flourish. The aroma instantly filled the small room and your dad grinned.

“You were always my favorite,” he said, digging in.

Laughing, surprised, you elbowed him and joined him on his bed. “You said this morning that El was your favorite because she got you your coffee.”

“It fluctuates, depends which one of you isn’t trying to give me grey hair at the moment.”

Stealing a fry, you laughed when he pulled his container closer to him. Glancing at the time, you were surprised to see it was almost eleven.

“Where’s El?” You asked, grunting when he blocked you from taking another fry.  

Your dad’s smile faded. “Mike’s,” he said with a look and a tone that said, I’m not happy about it. He flipped through the channels and eventually settled on the news. “I climbed out a grave and she wants to be with her boyfriend.”

His new coping mechanism had been joking about his apparent death and you knew it was a way to deal with the sudden media attention. “Can’t a guy die and come back in peace?”

Laughing, you squeezed his forearm. “She loves him,” you said, “it’s hard to be away from the ones you love.”

His eyes slid from the television to you, a knowing glint in them.

“Besides, she loves you the most. After me, of course. She’ll be back,” you said, smiling at him.

“You know,” he said as his laugh died down, “you don’t need to sneak. I’m working on understanding that you’re an adult. It’s hard for both of us, to let each other out of our sights. After Russia…I know we’ve been through a lot. You’re both clinging to me and I want you to know that you’re allowed to.”

Ducking your head, you heard the mattress squeak as he sat up. “If you want to cling to us for the rest of your life, I’ll be here – arms open. We’ve been through a lot, you and me kid, just the two of us,” he smiled, eyes unfocused, “You were the first time I’d ever realized that love at first sight was real.”

You glanced at him, not expecting that. “You were a few months old, tired, cranky, and in a place where you didn’t know anyone. I wasn’t supposed to be on shift that night, you know. But I was. Holden told me someone had left a baby at the door and he needed someone to look after her until CPS got there,” he said, eyes turning to you.

“You wouldn’t let anyone hold you, you cried and cried and cried. The secretary handed you off to me and you took one look at me and I was done for. It didn’t matter what anyone said. You were mine,” your dad looked uncharacteristically emotional, his hand reaching for yours. “You and that one, are the loves of my life. Okay? That won’t ever change. Not if we don’t live in the same state, not if we’re mad at each other, not if we’re apart, not even if I’m dead. The same way we carry Sara with us, I carry you two with me too. Always.”

“Dad,” you said, tears welling. What the hell was it with the men in this town making you cry today? “I know that, I know.”

“Good,” he said, gruffly. “And I meant what I said. You don’t need to sneak out to see Munson. You dated for four years, I got used to the shithead.”

“Dad!”

He laughed, eyes wrinkling more than they did before, his face lean but his smile was still familiar.

“Since you started, if that big old house you pretended not to like is meant for Joyce and the boys too, I wouldn’t mind. She certainly wouldn’t.”

You watched his ears turn pink and he shook his head. “You always did see everything, huh?”

“Apple doesn’t fall from the tree.”

You slipped into Eddie’s room a bit earlier than normal and froze when you saw him pulling a shirt over his shoulders. His soft grunt of pain had you moving towards him quickly. He startled when he felt your hands on his skin, head stuck in the shirt.

“Hopper?” He asked, breath shallow.

“Yeah,” you said, trying not to read too much into the fact that he knew you by touch alone. “You’re going to pull out your stitches, let me help.”

With gentle maneuvering, you pulled his head out the shirt and brushed back his hair out his face.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, wincing as the bandages and wires that littered his torso pulled taut. You couldn’t help yourself and your eyes took in the sight. His skin was mottled with deep purple bruises, the skin around his bandages pink and irritated. You hand moved on its own accord, fingers coming to dance over the red scratches on his ribs. “You think the scars will give me an edge?”

His voice was light, aiming for teasing, but you knew him better than that. You could hear the vulnerability underneath it all. Unable to stop yourself, you cradled his cheek and smiled. “You’ve always been beautiful, Edward Munson. A few scars won’t change that.”

You watched his eyes widen, heard his breath stutter, and without thinking too hard about it – you pressed your lips to his.

His hand immediately cradled the back of your head, pulling you in closer. A part of your mind was surprised at the lack of fireworks. It wasn’t anything clumsy and sweet like your first kisses had been, or earth shattering like the ones that came after, but it felt like seeing land after being lost at sea. It felt…like coming home.

Then his hands trailed down your sides and a small ember in your chest reignited. Your breath started coming faster and you pushed back into him, his hips bumping against yours.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, teeth nipping at the soft skin at the base of your neck. He placed open mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot he’d always loved to tease you with.

You clutched at his arms, overwhelmed and still wanting more. “Eddie,” you breathed, voice getting stuck in your throat.

“Hmm,” he hummed as you tangled together further.

A loud sound nagged at the edge of your quickly fading sanity and you almost jumped out your skin when the door to his room slammed open. Nurse Smith stood there, looking entirely unamused and with her arms crossed. You blinked, your brain whirring on again, and you stepped back from Eddie.

“Sadie, I can’t say I’m glad to see you this time,” Eddie said, his lips swollen and a small patch of skin on his neck reddening.

“Mr. Munson, you were in the intensive care unit not three days ago. Did you not hear the machine?” She asked, waving her hand over to the quick beeping. “Your heart can’t handle that type of stress right now.”

Eddie, unashamed as always, smiled and turned his brown eyes on you. “She’s always made my heart beat a little too fast, Sadie, there’s nothing you can do about that.”

Flustered and more than a little embarrassed, you didn’t know where to look. Nurse Smith smiled reluctantly and shook her head. She turned to you and nodded towards him. “He’s too freshly sewed together, okay? Give it a few weeks.”

“I wasn’t – we won’t – I would never,” you stammered.

Her face softened and you sighed, mortified. “I’m actually surprised it took you two lovebirds this long, considering how the two of you stare at each other,” she snorted when you both ducked your heads, “get him changed and keep your hands and body parts to yourselves, alright?”

She gave Eddie’s bandages a good look before disappearing out the door. At her departure, an awkwardness settled.

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” you said, closing your eyes, “I shouldn’t have – not when I’m not sure – what’s happening here.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said, moving slowly towards his bed, “trust me, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you insisted, pulling a fresh shirt out of his duffel and helping him into it. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

His hands caught your fluttering ones and you stilled. “Hop’, it’s okay. I would never turn that down from you, ever.”

You sighed. “Okay,” you said, voice sounding incredibly unsure. “Okay.” You tried again, trying to sound less miserable.

“One more time and I’ll believe you,” Eddie joked, settling into his bed.

“I saw Wayne today,” you said, wanting to move past it. “He said he’s already gotten a pile of homework for you waiting.”

Eddie groaned, letting you change the subject, and flopped his head to one side. “Did you hear?”

Shaking your head, you dropped into the chair and rested your chin on your palm.

“Hawkins High has graciously allowed my teachers to give me one month’s worth of homework and assignments,” he sighed, “if I pass them all I can take my finals early and don’t have to return to school while I’m – well, like this.”

“And if you pass your finals?” You ask, knowing what it meant.

Eddie grinned, his smile hitting you right in the solar plexus. “Then I’m part of class of ’86 baby!”

“Congratulations,” you said, smiling, “I knew you’d do it eventually.”

He snorted. “I haven’t passed yet,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“But you will,” you assured him, you knew he would.

“What about you?”

At that, you sighed. You’d made a decision but hadn’t told your dad yet. “I took an extra week off considering...”

“Your father isn’t actually dead?”

You waved a hand, nodding, “I need a little more processing time,” you said, “but, I’m compromising.”

“How?”

A familiar pang of anger surged through you before disappearing and leaving frustration in its wake. “I’m finishing the semester and taking the next one off. I need to figure out what I’m doing with my life and help El settle back in here, you know?” You frowned. “My dad almost burst the vein in his forehead. We argued a little but he’s right – the semester is almost over anyway. I’m just tired of people thinking they can make decisions for me!”

Your tone came out a little more clipped than you meant it to and your eyes darted up to his. He tried to hide the hurt that flashed across his face but you’d seen it. “I’m sorry,” you said immediately, “I didn’t…it just came out.”

He shrugged, hands playing with the loose string of his thin blankets. You both settled into silence, one that rattled you, and you bit down on your bottom lip.

“So, are you only going to visit me at night?” Eddie asked, tone teasing but you could hear the hurt in his voice. “Slipping away once the sun comes up? Like a lunar sorceress, only able to travel by moonlight?”

Turning your gaze towards him, you decide to stop being afraid. “I’m scared this tentative tether won’t survive the weight of the day,” you admitted. “We’ve talked but nothing has really changed. Me apologizing, you apologizing – it’s cathartic and something we both need to hear but it doesn’t heal anything faster.”

Eddie sighed and his eyes went down to the necklace around your neck. His eyes hardened at the sight of it and you knew he saw it as a reminder of how he’d left you too.

You wanted to explain yourself better but the words failed you. “I trust you with my life. I trust you with El’s life. I know you. I see you, Eddie Munson. I’ve always seen you. I just…I don’t…I…”

Eddie’s face smoothed as he pressed a hand to the side of your neck, offering comfort even as you were hurting him. “You don’t trust me not to break your heart again,” he said simply.

“It sounds so dramatic,” you said, desperate to have him understand but the tears that welled in your eyes emphasized that it was true.  

“Yeah, but when have you or I ever been simple?” His thumb swept soothing circles on your skin. “I understand, Hop, I get it.” Because of course he did. When did he not?

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” you said, feeling like your chest had been cracked open. With the broken shards of your heart on display, you didn’t know what else to say.

“For what?” Eddie smiled sadly, his eyes on your torso, like he could see the pieces and itched to put them back together. “After all this…bullshit that’s been going on. Demobats, alternate dimensions, nightmares, and hallucinations – I’ve finally learned that every action has consequences. This is mine.”

“I’m sorry,” you echoed, tears welling, not knowing what else to say. “I want to trust you with it, I really do but…”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you into a hug. You buried your face in his neck and wrapped your arms around his chest. “I’m so sorry that I let you think, even for a second, that the loss of us was a price I was willing to pay.”

You were desperate to say the right things, to find the perfect solution that would magically fix you two, but you knew there wasn’t one. He’d still be the one who’d broken your heart and you were still the wolf snarling at anyone who got close enough to it. “I love you,” you said and somehow it cut you deeper hearing how much you’d really meant it.  

“I know.”

After a beat of silence, you pulled back to stare at him. “Did you just Han Solo me?”

Eddie laughed, sadness fleeing temporarily from his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

He seemed to weigh the question for a moment before blurting out, “Will you give me the chance?”

“What?”

“To prove that it’s different this time?” He looked up at you, eyes nervous and smile half as bright. “I didn’t let you have a say last time and I promise that’ll be the only time I ever make that mistake. If you don’t…if there’s nothing that I can do to prove that I won’t do it again, that I can try and make up for my momentary lapse of sanity, I don’t want to hurt you again by trying.”

A small bit of gratitude settled in your chest. “I don’t know,” you said, feeling infuriated at your own indecision. “I’m fighting the urge to disappear every second of the day. Last summer taught me that I needed to leave before I’m left and that’s hard to unlearn.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, quietly, his hand hovering uncertainly over your own. You flipped your palm up and intertwined your fingers together. While you stared at your hands wrapped around each other’s, you realized – you’d become those people. The ones who had said everything they needed to say and were only left with apologies.

With a deep breath, you brought his knuckles up to your lips. “I don’t want to hurt you but, I don’t know if I’m ready.” You sighed. “I’m trying, I really am. I don’t want you to wait around for something that may never happen again.”

“You’re worth waiting for,” Eddie whispered and you knew he understood. Neither of you said anything about how tightly you held on to each other, as if worried it’d be the last time.  

He didn’t ask if you’ll still be there in the morning and you didn’t promise to stay.

Eddie was a notorious light sleeper, anytime you had so much sneezed – he’d be twitching awake. You’d tease him about it, knowing that the noise his neighbors made constantly woke him up. While you, having been raised in New York City, slept like the dead. Eddie constantly joked that he’d have to practically push you off the bed to rouse you.

So, you didn’t understand how you woke before him, every single time without fail.

At first, you’d taken it as a sign – the universe giving you the gift of a clean cut. A painless escape. Now, standing with your hand on the doorknob and your heart in your throat, you weren’t so sure. Leaving had felt like your only option before, unable and not ready to face him without the protection of the dark. But now, you hesitated. If you stayed here – with him – you knew what it would mean.

What if you’d misinterpreted the sign? What if the gift was the choice itself?

You let the doorknob slip from your hands and turned slowly. Clenching the strap of your bag, you felt the grooves sting your skin. He shifted the moment you’d slipped out of bed. He slept on his back with an arm thrown outwards to your side, like he was still reaching for you.

And you supposed he still was. The knot in your chest had yet to loosen entirely, the pain still too close to the surface. You weren’t ready, you reminded yourself, the thought alone making you turn to grab the doorknob again.

But…what if you never would be? What if there would never be a moment where it just clicked together? What if you were waiting for something that would never happen? You pressed your forehead to the door, your chest tightening with your indecision.

What if the fresh start that you wanted was something that came gradually? Could you move forward without him? Closing your eyes, you tried to imagine it.

Your small little apartment that faced a quiet tree lined street. Margaret, the widow in the red house, would invite you to breakfast on Saturday mornings like she always did. Kareem, your neighbor, would get you coffees on Mondays and you’d share your dinner with him on Fridays. You’d take your long walks on the weekend, go to concerts with your new friends, and see movies with your old ones.

You’d graduate, start travelling, or try to get your dream job. Maybe you’d go to grad school so you could make your dad cry at that graduation too. You’d bring El with you everywhere, always enraptured by her constant surprise and joy to see the world. You would finish healing. You would learn to let people in again. You’d learn to stop running. Maybe you’d fall in love again. Eddie would be someone special to you, forever etched into the bones of who you were. He’d fade to a lovely memory.

The knot tightened painfully. You opened your eyes and turned back around. Eddie had been through a lot, you knew that – it was one of the things that you’d both bonded over. Mothers who didn’t love either of you enough to stay. He knew you. He’d always seen the real you and never faltered with his utter acceptance of it.

He’d also hurt you, deeply. It was his doing that left the scars you hated to see every time you caught sight of them. You’d need to learn to love them and you didn’t know if you could. 

You shook your head. Liar, your heart whispered, you’re lying.

Pressure built behind your eyes as you stared at him, face slack, and hair wild. He’d hurt you. But you’d also hurt him. Neither of you were perfect and you’d probably hurt each other again but humans made mistakes. Isn’t that what you loved about him?

Could you be happy without Eddie Munson in your life? Yes. But did you want to be? Were you willing to jump again?

With quiet, practiced steps, you felt the tension bleed out of you. The chair beside his bed creaked as you settled into it. Your mind ran in a thousand different directions as the room brightened with every minute that passed. A sunbeam broke through the half open blinds and illuminated his face.

Him, your heart screamed at your mind, we want him.

Wouldn’t you always?

Eddie mumbled, arm reaching for the space where you’d been and his brows furrowed. Eddie blinked drowsily and rolled forward onto the pillow you’d been using. He sighed, a small sad thing, and you tried not to smile when he jumped as you cleared your throat.

“Sweetheart?” He said, confused. “You’re…here.”

His eyes darted over your face, wide and confused but hopeful. And that’s what did it, that’s what made you stumble over the cliff. A leap of faith.  You nodded. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“You stayed.”

You heard what he wasn’t saying. It’s morning. You didn’t leave.

“I did,” you said, reaching out and brushing hair out of his eyes, “turns out the view of the sunrise from your room isn’t all that bad.”

By his smile, he knew what you’d just handed him, and goddamn if you didn’t love him for it. For always knowing. His hand came up to intertwine his fingers with yours and he brought them to his lips. “I love you,” he whispered, like he was afraid he’d startle you. The birds outside sang, the sun continued to rise, and your world righted itself again. He pulled you onto the bed, hands tangled between your bodies, and rested his forehead against yours.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed. The itch beneath your skin hadn’t calmed but you knew it would with time. “I love you too,” you said, and it sounded like a new beginning.

You inhaled and his fingers tightened around yours. You counted to ten and held on.

A/N2: I got some fluffy bits outlined and written for these two but I cut them out since I felt like it didn't idk fit - might post those up at some point if anyone's interested!

@kik51199 @salembridger @silky-luxe @same-panic-different-disco @scoopsr0bin @slasherbuck @stormsandsea @bebe0701 @celestialallysum @mitsuyas-sewing-machine @meganovich @trinsghost @winchester-angel

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

[impossibledial]

i’ve always found it odd that clara says, “i have to be with danny pink” in dark water.

to preface this, let’s discuss the difference between “need to” and “have to”:

“i need to” - usually refers to a necessity.

“i have to” - usually refers to an obligation.

i would be remiss if i did not acknowledge that the two can be and often are used interchangeably. that being said, doctor who is a work of fiction and has writers. in my opinion, the line sounds unnatural in the context of the scene. i would think steven moffat would be aware of the connotations belonging to each phrase.

clara says this line in response to danny saying, “you have your life. you have your whole life to live. you have to stay there.”

unlike with clara’s response, if you replace what danny says with, “you need to stay there” the meaning behind the words would still remain the same. so, why does danny say she has to?

well, let’s think about clara’s obligations; clara has a family - her father, her grandmother. friends - she takes care of angie and artie as an obligation to her friend that died in series 7, the doctor. and, of course, a life to live - the life her mother always wanted for her.

let’s not forget one of the key character traits the doctor admires about clara, she doesn’t run out on the people she cares about.

in listen, we discover that danny grew up in a children’s home. he has no family to speak of - any family that he knows of, anyway (moffat mentioned his father has an estranged brother which explains the existence of orson pink.)

now, i’ve seen people mention orson pink. meeting him may have lead clara to believe that her fate lies with danny.

but, i don’t think it’s that simple.

i think meeting orson is one of the reasons that lead to clara going to danny’s apartment at the end. but, clara was already forcing the date to work out. she had already asked the doctor to send her back in her timeline to fix it. this is probably due to her need for control as the date didn’t go as planned.

there’s also no ignoring the fact that clara loved danny - although, she wasn’t very good at it. but, was it love of the self-sacrificial kind? not before dark water.

the episode starts off with clara making a promise to danny - a promise to be faithful to him. she does this to make up for all the bad things she has done over the course of their relationship.

now, it’s easy to make the lies she told him all about the doctor because in a way, they are. but, they’re also about herself - she could never be open with him about who she was.

and, that’s not because of danny. it’s because of clara’s need for control. she wants to compartmentalize the two different lives she is leading. she wants to be two people at once but in doing so, denies her true character.

during this entire dialogue, clara continually asks danny to stop saying i love you. she even says, “i love you means nothing right now.”

she may just be referring to the words here but in the context of the scene it could represent a whole other aspect of their relationship. it’s interesting that danny couldn’t find anything to say that could convince her that it’s really him (he doesn’t even know her mother’s name if you read the script).

her love for danny means nothing here but her obligation towards him does.

shouldn’t the fact that he asks her not to sacrifice her life for him be enough of a giveaway? throughout their relationship, we saw that there was a lack of trust and sincere communication, and, this is the cultivation of it.

#clara oswald #clara oswald meta #danny pink #twelfth doctor #doctor who #doctor who meta #i just tagged twelve because it’s his era! #if you disagree don’t comment i put a lot of work into this 😭😭😭 #i’ll be back to add to this! #belle’s ramblings™️

[henrysglock]

James' Working Master List

My Bullshit Theories:

Mother Is God In The Eyes Of A Child (Mothergate origins, Vecna’s mother imagery)

Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce Que C'est? (Neither Henry Nor Vecna Are Psychopaths: An In-Depth Behavioral Analysis)

A Night of Monologues (Splicing together the released 4.07 script and the transcript of One’s filmed monologue. Spoiler: They’re two halves of a whole speech)

Shattered Mirrors and Cracked Walls (An analysis of Henry’s dematerialization scene, the aftermath, and a determination that we’re being shown all 4 timelines interchangeably in the NINA version of the 1979 HNL Massacre)

One Does Not Simply Lose A Gate (The 2nd part of the 1979 massacre aftermath and proof that a timeline exists where Henry/Edward did nothing wrong)

Where Is All The Blood Coming From? (A comparison between the NINA massacre's smeared blood and the carnage resulting from democreature attacks)

A Tale Of Two Vecnas (An analysis of Vecna's scorching in Dimension-X, which shows us two distinct and physically different men)

Pick A Damn Jumpsuit! (Matching up the Dimension-X jumpsuits to NINA massacre jumpsuits)

Barnes And NO!! Where Did He Go!! (A write up on the discrepancies in One’s appearance, tattoo, and color grading in the closet scene as evidence of his disappearance from the plot)

Why Do You, As The Big Bad, Have No Lines Or Powers? (Vecna’s physical form in the UD has no dialogue and doesn’t use psionic powers: evidence and theories)

So Which Is It: Night or Day? (Discrepancies in time-labeling in the released 4.07 script and how they might link to El’s 1983 escape)

Plinko Power! (NINA's plinko game as a microcosm of timeline theory and Henry's time-based powers)

The Mystery of the Move-In Date (Physically speaking, there’s no possible way that the Creels moved in in 1959)

Our Lord and Savior…Vecna? (Why Vecna/001 is God, Based On Analysis Of ST4, The Bible, And Other Supporting Media)

The First Shadow: Who Knew Whom in 1959 (Why Certain Character Were Removed From Hawkins Prior To ST4)

Proto-HeIIcheer: Who Did George and Betty Become? (Why Patty Newby and Allen Munson may be the pairing to watch for in The First Shadow, rather than Patty and Henry)

Fics:

Paper Faces — POTO x ST fusion fic (Complete)

ptolemaea (blessed be the children) — Henry’s fix-it fic (3/?)

Spider Fact, Anyone? — 1959 RPG-style ST minific

Featured Art:

Creel Siblings Outfit Swap

Creelarke Aesthetic Board

Featured Edits:

NYMPHOLOGY (ft. HNL)

The Colors of ST4 (ft. Le Monde)

Henry Creel: Brainless Borzoi

Art:

TUNNEL VISION (ft. Henry Creel)

Edits:

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (ft. Henry Creel)

Left-Brain, Right-Brain (ft. Henry and Edward Creel)

House of Leaves (Mini-Library):

House of Leaves Initial Analysis

House of Leaves Excerpts

Creel Files:

Henry Files:

Rebuke of Apologism Claims

A Note on Script Analysis

Our First Impression of Henry Sets Him Up For Failure

The Seagull

Stand By Me

The Divine Comedy

Henry and Edward, Jekyll and Hyde

Young Henry, Adult Henry, and the Rabbit Scene

Multiple Henries: Screenshots and Brenner Comparison

Perspective On The Length of Henry's Imprisonment

Vecna as the Villain: Defining Stranger Things' Narrative

I, Tonya and Perspective-Based Truth

Henry's Unseen Costumes

Kate Trefry and The First Shadow

Henry Didn't Manipulate El Re: Soteria

Details the Duffers Must Address

The Fallacies in Henry's Spider Schtick

NINA and Vecna’s Black Obelisks

Henry and Brenner Expansion Pack

Expansion Pack!

Creel Cousins:

Eleanor “El” Creel

The Stare Runs In The Family

Room (2015)

And Soon, Others Were Born

Sleepyhead

She’s Mike’s…Cousin! Second Cousin! Lots of family in Sweden.

Luke and Leia vs El and Mike (Stav’s Post)

Luke and Leia vs El and Mike (2)

Luke and Leia vs El and Mike (3)

Henry/Edward…Anakin…

Family Files:

Heritability of Powers

Psychopathy: Learned or Genetic

Karen, Virginia, and Tortured Husbands

ST5: Which Wheelers Live and Why?

Alice Creel: Admission of Innocence by Omission of Fault

ST4 Victims: A Story By Proxy (AKA The Breadcrumbs Post)

Even if Henry killed Virginia, It Would Be Self Defense

Brenner and Virginia Expansion Pack

Pedo-Files:

Mamas and Papas: Spiders, Flowers, and Bathtubs

Karen, Billy, Virginia...Henry

Will and Vecna Expansion Pack

Will Files:

Expansion Pack

The First Shadow/Creelarke:

Creelarke Origins

IT (1990) Reddie Aesthetic Similarities

Scott's Funeral Scarf

A New Timeline

IT (1990) Aesthetic Updated for TFS

Radiationgate:

Radium Files:

Eben Byers, Radium, and ST3's Soviet Plot

Chemistry Class: Maria Skłodowska-Curie

Radiation Sickness Files:

Psionic Powers and EM Radiation

Vecna's Curse: Radiation Sickness Symptoms

ST5 Predictions

Nuclear Disaster Files:

Henry Creel Literally Nuked Hawkins

Chemistry Class: Nuclear Explosion Imagery

Chernobyl, Hawkins Earthquake and ST4's Soviet Shadow (1)

Chernobyl, Hawkins Earthquake, and ST4's Soviet Shadow (2)

Phantomgate:

What in the POTO Visuals?

POTO 2004: Film Analysis

Dart and Gustave: Love Never Dies

Secret Admirers: Puzzle Tales Connection

Anime/Manga References

Coming Soon: Fullmetal Alchemist

Rambles:

1: On Byler and Rink-O-Mania

2: On Demoslugs

3: On Byler and Open Secrecy

4: Sad Thoughts About Post-S2 Will

5: On Spore Lore

6: On The Rain Fight

#phantomgate #radiationgate #henry creel analysis #creel massacre analysis #stranger things and the bible #rambles #the wheelers are creels #timeline theory #st casting #stranger things #stranger things: the first shadow

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 2 replay, recruiting Mordin:

-It’s smart to keep humans out of the quarantine zone. The plague could mutate so it does begin to spread to humans.

-Why were the Blue Suns unhappy that Mordin moved in?

Ah, because he refused to play protection money. Fair.

Aaaand then they tried to burn down the clinic when he started sheltering humans. Charming.

-Story so far 1: Blue Suns runs the district. Vorcha try to move in. They’re immune to the plague, so spreading it kills off their competition. Reasonable so far.

-Kasumi is awfully confident that the plague won’t spread to humans.

-Hmm. Shepard says diseases can’t cross species. How likely is that?

Diseases cross species all the time on Earth. Admittedly, Mass Effect species are presumably far more diverse, but they’ve also been mixing for millennia. After that long, surely viruses and bacteria have caught up?

-Mass Effect 2 has some dialogue lines that can’t be skipped. Not sure why, most of them aren’t critical lines. It’s incredibly annoying when you save and reload to see all possible conversation options.

-Why are there spiral bound notebook with handwritten notes scattered over this area. Who is still taking handwritten notes? On paper? You’d think they’d write on the omni-tool, at minimum.

-Why are the plague guards not wearing armor??? They’re maintaining a quarantine on a plague they’re vulnerable to and they’re NOT in sealed suits???

-Huh. One of the store names is a store seen in the main area of Omega. I suppose it could be a franchise, but I’m disappointed it wasn’t given a unique name.

-Story so far 2: Vorcha are immune to disease. If humans had created the plague, the vorcha would be immune to it.

However, if vorcha had invented the plague, humans would be vulnerable to it.

Since humans aren’t affected, humans must have created the plague.

Still reasonable. Honestly, this is holding up better than the main Mass Effect 2 plot.

-No one’s ever created a disease vorcha are vulnerable to? Given how hated vorcha are and that diseases normally can’t cross species, you’d think some one would have developed one as a form of pest control.

-The district guard that lets you in and the batarian victim repeat much of the same exposition. Humans created the plague, vorcha are immune to it, the Blue Suns dislike Mordin, the vorcha are making a territory grab…

They do differently, but the content lines up. Not sure why Bioware felt the need to include two NPCs that essentially repeat each other.

-Grim as it is, the Blue Suns locking up the infected (well, those they believe infected) is a logical means to prevent the spread of the plague.

However, it might have been kinder to just kill them outright. As demonstrated by the batarian that starved to death in his apartment.

-How the hell do the human refugees have such a luxurious apartment? The dead batarian barely lived in a box. This is a mansion by comparison. And that’s some nice furniture.

-But they don’t have weapons? Not even a pistol? How the hell do you live in the Omega slums and not even have a pistol?

-The Blue Suns are killing humans indiscriminately. All the aliens, really.

Understandable. Bioware’s generally been pretty good at writing realistic reactions to different scenarios in Mass Effect, and this is one of them.

-“Blue Suns” and “turians” are used interchangeably by the batarian that starved to death and the human refugees.

I’m curious how a mercenary group started by a human and a batarian became dominated by turians.

I’m wondering if the original origins of the group were for it to be started by turians, and that was retconned when Zaeed was created.

-The Blue Suns are essentially the local government, and the protection fees are basically taxes. No wonder they were pissed Mordin wouldn’t pay.

-Is it possible to fail escorting the human refugees to Mordin’s clinic?

You tell them you’ll clear a path. If you don’t kill all the enemies along they way, do they die?

-As many others have said, it’s hypocritical of Shepard to criticize the looters when they’re looting themselves.

But the way ME2 is structured I need to the paragon points and the money, so that’s what I’m doing.

-Mordin’s staff is human. Logical – they’re immune to the plague and he’s sheltering them. Of course they’re helping out.

All the non humans formerly on his staff are probably dead.

-The human looters and the batarian patient mention they miss the Blue Suns running things.

Reasonable. They may be a shitty government body, but they beat open warfare on the streets.

-Mordin’s crossed paths with Cerberus before. As part of STG?

-Mordin says the Collectors are one of the few groups with the technology capable of creating the plague.

What are the other groups?

-Story so far 3: Why the hell do the vorcha turn off the environmental system? What does that accomplish?

I know vorcha adapt quickly, but surely even they’ll die from a lack of oxygen? They don’t have any breathing equipment when we fight them later.

-When Shepard introduces themself as Commander Shepard, Mordin doesn’t react at all. You’d think he’d have something to say – surprise, skepticism, analyzing why you’d introduce yourself as a dead person…

-Mordin says spectres not human. Which would be a reasonable statement, if Shepard hadn’t just introduced themself as first human spectre that died recently.

You can assume that he dismissed Shepard as not the real Commander Shepard to explain this, but Shepard’s identity never comes up later.

-And here begins the nonsense about humans being special because they are more diverse genetically. Considering nothing is ever actually done with this, I’d be happy with an edit of the game that cuts it out.

-Story Update 4: The Collectors created the plague to test mutation levels in species. Humans are already known to be diverse, so they’re the control group. Hence why the plague doesn’t impact them.

-Why do the Collectors care about mutation levels?

They’re going to kill all organic life. Some species will be harvested to create more Reapers. The dominant species is used to create a Capital ship; the others are used to create Destroyers.

How do mutation levels fit into this? Again, what is the end goal of this plague?

-Why were humans used as a control group?

The purpose of the plague was supposedly to test mutation levels in a species.

So the control group would presumably be testing the mutation levels in members of the species not infected.

Except no, Modrin says humans are the control group. How? By testing how much they mutate (or don’t) in comparison to species that are infected?

But why pick the species that has the most diversity for that? Wouldn’t it be better to pick a species with an average amount of diversity?

This makes no sense that I can put together.

-Between the explanation of the plague and the vorcha turning off the environmental systems for no explicable reason, I feel this is when Mordin’s recruitment mission begins to fall apart on a narrative level.

-However, it does do a good job on explaining why Mordin joins Shepard.

He’s obviously suspicious about Cerberus, but the plague was created by the Collectors and Shepard’s gunning for them so they have mutual goals.

Mordin’s former STG, and the plague makes it clear that the Collectors are a huge threat to Salarians. Mordin can work with a known threat to Salarians (Cerberus) to take out a bigger one (the Collectors).

I’m curious if he would have joined up if the plague hadn’t happened. Shepard would have been SOL then.

-Story so far 5: Mordin says the vorcha work for the Collectors. They distribute the plague and collect evidence.

This lines up. Everyone’s protested that the vorcha can’t have caused the plague because they’re not smart enough and they don’t have the resources.

However, as “vermin” they are expected to be constantly underfoot. That would make spreading the plague easy.

-As others have pointed out, using the environmental controls to distribute the cure for the plague is very similar to using the shroud to distribute the genophage cure in ME3.

While I’d like to credit Bioware with using ME2 to foreshadow ME3, I suspect it was more reusing ideas from ME2 for ME3.

-Mass Effect 2 combat is frustrating. There are lots of pyros, and Shepard can’t dodge and their run is slow. Krogans that charge are also very dangerous.

Also, I forgot how bad ME2 charge is. It’s basically worthless. It does no damage and has a very brief stun, and considering how slow Shepard is good luck getting to cover.

I don’t want to play a cover shooter, but I think I’m going to need to.

-Why do I have to personally hack everything? What, is Kasumi just eating popcorn as she watches me flail around?

-When you find Daniel, the bottom right option is [signal henchmen].

While that made me smile, I doubt Miranda agrees who the henchman in our relationship is.

-Interesting that you can kill or spare the batarians whether you go left paragon or left renegade. I thought paragon would only permit me to spare them.

-So we’ve established that the vorcha are working with the Collectors so they can take over Blue Sun territory. Fine. But where the hell are these krogan coming from? What’s their angle?

-Story so far 6: The vorcha are working with the Collectors because the Collectors promised to make them strong.

I suspect a scam, but believable enough. The vorcha are desperate and desperate people do desperate things.

But where do the krogan fit into this??? Are we just ignoring the krogans attempting to murder us? Are they just here for shits and giggles?

Okay, that’s actually believable for krogans. But it would be nice for someone to say so.

-Everyone talks about how awful Garrus’ recruitment mission is, but I always find Moridn’s pretty bad too. Too many fights against large numbers in open rooms.

This end battle is particularly bad. Let me save after each round of enemies, damn it.

-Mordin is a fantastic renegade character. You can save people with a scalpel or a gun. Why can’t I play Shepard as renegade like that?

-The batarian patient is happy the Blue Suns will be able to take over again and everything will return to normal.

The clinic guard isn’t ready to trust the Blue Suns after what they did.

Pretty reasonable. Batarian wants to get back to normal. Clinic guard is a bit pissed about the whole attempting to burn down the clinic incident.

-What I want to know: Is the fact the Collectors created the plague public knowledge?

Because it seems likely to me that everyone is still going to attempt to kill humans on sight if not. Or even if so. Humans are an easier target to take frustration out on than the Collectors.

(And I once again ask: How the hell are there so many humans on Omega?)

-While I admire Daniel’s dedication to helping people, I’m more skeptical of his ability to protect the clinic. Dude couldn’t handle a few batarians. What’s he going to do when the Blue Suns ask for payment?

-Mordin says Cerberus must be pretty desperate to be recruiting aliens and have an AI.

Again, after the Cerberus apologism through the first part of the game it’s very nice to have a character around that does not trust them.

#mass effect #mass effect 2 #mass effect 2 replay

[galvanizedfriend]

hi, love <3 so, here's a random thought I'd like to share with you.

I always mention how much I would've loved to see The Wolf instead of The original as a TVD spin off, but, even though my though I still stand this statement, I think it would've not been the same.

Let me elaborate:

as I said many times before, your writing is the key of the whole story. Since you always narrates things such as inner thoughts, feelings and point of views, we also get an explanation about why a certain thing is happening ( i.e. the ending smut of chapter 30). However, no matter how talented the actor is, this thing never happens in TV shows, and it sadly leads to misinterpretation (either of the character or their action) and "randomness".

For example: Caroline is my babygirl, but I just know that if people would've *watched* instead of *reading* The Wolf, they would've hated her. Calling her a bad s/o, mother and friend because they would just judge her by her actions without knowing what's going on with the characters, misinterpreting her struggle for bitchness or something along those lines.

In conclusion, even though I would pay MILLIONS to just erase TO and bring TW to live action, I'm also happy to know that my favs are "covered" from the hate they have already received because the shows never portrait them and their issues in the right way.

that's it, just wanted to share this piece of mind that have been floating around my head for a while! lemme know what you think!

Under the cut because I got rambly. 😂

That makes sense. Obviously books/fics/any written content will always be much more dense than TV shows or movies because you get to be inside characters' heads, while on TV content you can only count on actors finding a way to translate these emotions, and some of them don't even have that capacity tbh.

Not to say that The Wolf would've been better than the actual show (I mean, I have my biased opinions, but that's just me 😂), but I think the writing on The Originals obviously contributed a lot to how bad the show was a lot of the time. It simply lacked substance, there were many times when things just straight out didn't make sense. At first glance it might seem like TW and TO are almost interchangeable, but they're really not, and this is a point I have been making over the years. It's not just about the obvious changes (Caroline instead of Hayley, which is a BIG change btw), but it's especially about the more subtle ones. The amount of thought I put into those scenes, characters, dialogues - it might not seem like it, but it's crazy. And so if you read the final product and you think 'wow! this makes sense! it should've been like this!' it's because there were loads of changes done to not only that part, but parts that came before, that suddenly, when put together, paint things under a completely different light.

The problem with TO for me is that it starts off from a place of complete nonsense, so everything that comes after that is building on top of a fragile foundation. I mean, they start off the show by retconning every single character to a certain degree. What can we expect after that? They were more interested in erasing everything that came before on The Vampire Diaries than in doing justice to the characters, so there's no way that could've ever been 100% solid. It had its moments, I can't say that it didn't, but it was mostly scattered scenes here and there, or ideas you could see that were good in theory (like the premise of S3), rather than entire story arcs within the show.

My point is that I don't think the lack of inner monologuing is the main problem with TO. There is a way to have compelling and profound writing even when you don't have narration to compose your scenes, and the fact some screenwriters are incapable of doing that is the reason why so many book to TV adaptations are so crappy. You have to be really inventive to make it work, and the crew on TO simply wasn't. But there were moments!

However, regarding Caroline and the things she does throughout the story, like going back to Mystic Falls in TW2 for instance, or when she leaves the compound in TW1. Honestly, even if that had been written by the best screenwriter in the world (obviously not me), and if Candice King had given an Oscar-worthy performance, people would still call her a bitch. 😂 There's a real edge of misogyny in how people judge female characters a lot more harshly than their male counterparts, especially when the things they do displease the male character, which was the case here. I got so many comments from people who were mad at Caroline because 'she should've just trusted Klaus, Klaus is a hybrid, he's the strongest, he knows better', completely disregarding the fact Klaus is basically a psychopath with trust and anger issues who was by no means a pillar of warmth and sanity a lot of the time. Caroline was, from start to finish, the most reasonable, stable person in that entire story, but there were many times when people were blaming her for things that were just not her fault. She was pregnant, alone, scared, trying to stay alive, to protect her child, and Klaus was at the peak of a downward spiral where he was listening to absolutely no one, but somehow Caroline was the one in the wrong for not trusting that he wouldn't act like a maniac. 😂

I'm not saying that is what you're saying, btw, I'm just saying Caroline would've been judged no matter what. But yes, she probably would've been very harshly criticized if this had been the show. Already she is! There's a lot of people who dislike her for how hard she was on Klaus, like he didn't deserve it. 😂

Having said all that 😂 I do give myself some credit for the fact people were feeling so much for Klaus in spite of everything lol He's very intense and dramatic in how he takes offense. If he thinks he's been wronged (and he thinks he's been wronged whenever someone doesn't take his side in a dispute, whatever that might be), he just goes all out, and he's merciless in how he judges the people around him, alwaus making himself out to be the victmized party. He might regret his actions later (usually because of that darned little thing called consequence), but never initially, and he's also terrible at apologies. So I wanted his POVs to be about how the whole world was against him, and how he knew what he was doing, and he couldn't trust anyone, etc etc, and people bought it. Personally, I was always on Caroline's side, but even though I know people were likely to side with Klaus anyway because that's the way it is, and people are biased towards him, I also think I might have manipulated them a little bit.

But I just reminded myself today that there is a very basic difference between canon and TW that means one could never replace the other which is that Caroline is a witch. 😂 That justifies her getting pregnant, but then it changes her entire backstory.

I hope my response didn't come out as though I'm being harsh or anything. Your pondering just got me thinking, and that's actually something I've thought about a lot throughout the years because I have certainly gotten many comments like what you said. Thanks very much for sharing! I really love reading that kind of thing. ❤️

#yokan answers #feat-peach #i keep forgetting caroline used to be a witch #even though that's going to play a huge part in tw4 lol

[mwolf0epsilon]

15 Lines Game

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well.

Tagged by @alwayskote , thanks! This was a bit of a challenge because I couldn't decide on which OC I wanted to do, and then I wasn't sure if I had enough dialogue for them that encompassed the entirety of their personalities (；′⌒`)

No pressure tags: @milfcutlawquane , @lost-on-kamino , @squirrelno2 & @gaeasun

Clone Medic Sponge

"His name was Jelly." They say. "And I killed him because I asked him to come with me to the 501st…"

"She likes pats on her hind-quarters, like playing a drum… And don't give her anything even if she tries to beg, she's already been fed and she knows it."

“Not enough pay in the world to deal with you.” They snarl, bared teeth and a fire in their eye. “But I’m not about to let Rey'vod’s little stupid Ey'ika rot to death…”

“We all look alike to them! They get to have identities all of their own without having to fight tooth and nail to distinguish themselves, and we… We’re interchangeable! Just copies!” CT-2525 hated them. They hated them for it. For the unfairness of it all. “I thought he was my friend…”

“Gender identity is, in my opinion, much more important than what goes on between someone’s legs or inside their bodies. It’s who you choose to be that should precede all things. Even natural processes that would mark you in a different box.”

"He'll rest, I'll make sure of it…" Sponge huffed, a mischievous spark in those dark eyes of theirs. "If he doesn't, Beau will get him for me."

"You're both gross…" Sponge grunted in revulsion at the sight of Pitch and Coric speaking with their mouths full. "Have some manners…"

"That's why you use thick gloves when handling bitey critters and kih'vode." Sponge pointed out matter-o-factly.

“Next you’ll be telling me to sign my own decomm paperwork and deliver it to the Chancellor’s office while tap-dancing in clown shoes…”

“I can’t believe Crayfish is somehow less of a menace to society than Conch…” Sponge snorted. “I think it was better when we used to try to smother each other with a pillow. At least then whatever nonsense came out of his mouth was heavily muffled.”

"Nothing that glows in the dark is meant to be pretty." Sponge pointed out with an exasperated grunt. "It's meant to lure you to the light so that it can snag you unawares."

"Krell is sending us on suicide missions, and ignoring what viable options we have for a swifter less costly success! He's is KILLING us, and your response is to roll over and show him your belly like a dog?!"

"What else did you do Captain? Get on your knees for him? Suck his big fat Besalisk cock like the little bitch you are?!"

"Admit it, you're nothing but a sniveling coward who'd rather save his own skin than do the right thing by his vode!"

“Bitter resentment hasn’t set in yet. It’s what makes them better…” Sponge had seemed resigned to that, but not in a way that felt particularly bad. At least not from the way they’d sounded. “It’s our job now, to make sure those of us that are still so eager to hope can live freer lives than the ones we’ll surely live.”

Riot Trooper Olly Olly Oxenfree

“Is it as annoying as the ukulele you showed me last time? Or the recorder? Or the clarinet?”

“It’s… Not as indigestible as the last one…” The somber lullabies had filled him with melancholic feelings.

“If you keep thinking so hard, you’ll burn out the tiny lightbulb that lives inside your thick skull…”

“You need to take things slow Rhythm. Something will eventually pop up into that scattered brain of yours. Preferably, something he might actually find enjoyment out of… I can’t imagine what degenerate actually likes the banjo…”

“I’ve been told I’m very good at slapping away rapidly moving objects… I suppose it had to do with the fact Pretty Boy enjoyed throwing stuff at both myself and Lichtenberg during training…”

“….Rhythm, that’s a frog. Not a dog. And its eating the tablecloth…”

“My body hurts sometimes, big kriffing deal. It’d hurt from long shifts and violent altercations anyway…”

“This stupid condition is nothing special, so DON’T treat me like I’m made of KRIFFING glass…”

“I’m being pragmatic.” He rebuked bitterly. “I was going to die anyway… Every moment of my life as a cadet I knew I was going to die. Might as well make myself useful before I do…”

"The medbay is currently off-limits to anyone who is not a part of the Coruscant Guard, due to unforeseen circumstances involving both a lack of resources and equipment. If you have any injuries you may need tending to, I would suggest going to your own battalion medics, an on-planet hospital, or sucking it up and dealing with it instead of bitching about it."

“This is Cabur. She’s a shiro that I found in one of the upper floors in a public fountain…” He offered as a form of explanation. “And I’ve been looking everywhere for her. I was afraid she’d gotten lost.”

“…. You never asked.” Olly shrugged in turn.

“Turtles can’t catch rabies.” Olly pointed out calmly.

“The Phase I armour was perfectly fine…”

“I really shouldn’t be taking painting advice from a vod who put volume sliders on his own armour, only to then nearly deafen himself by playing loud music all day…”

#Writing Game #Tag Game #star wars #the clone wars #clone ocs #clone medic sponge #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree

[ravenadottir]

are you ready for some controversy vena? in your honest opinion, rank the li’s from each season from most attractive to least attractive 👀

pshhh, alright girl! first, various disclaimers here:

attraction to me goes beyond looks. i'm pan romantic and demisexual so you know personality and connection weight in more than looks for me. if you didn't, well, now you know. i can't discern attraction without those things, that's just how i function.

just because i don't find someone attractive, or less attractive than others, it doesn't mean they're butt ugly. it just means i don't want a taste, and that's ok.

it's MY list. feel free to do one yourself if you couldn't live vicariously through this one. also, i don't take criticism, this is the most subjective it can get.

i can see the bobby stans reaching for the keyboard. DON'T BOTHER, i don't care. that goes for lottie apologists too. drop it.

alright, let's begin!

~season 1~ the driest when it comes to numbers and quality because levi is so dull and tedious.

7th. levi. i can't stand the guy. yes, he's supposedly very attractive but i can't deal with the whole romeo thing, the very empty eyes, interchangeable personality... ugh, nah. 2/10

6th. mason. i feel like there's multiple dialogues he shares with levi, but he's waaaay hotter. like, waaaaaaaay hotter, and that's because he's a drummer. that's it lol the toby thing is so dumb and i can't take either him or levi seriously. 4/10

5th. tim. because he's so funny and endearing. i don't even rate him as an li, and often steals him from jen because he deserved better, but i still prefer him over levi and mason. 6/10

4th. allegra. i really thought, despite her whole shpeal about the jealousy, that she would have a better reason to act like that, and i was right. as an li, i feel her trope is not explored enough. plus, the way she acts all shy during the reunion is just... realistic. i like her. 7/10

3rd. jake. don't get me wrong, i love the guy, i really do, but waiting 46 days to say something? 46?? when we had just been through cherrygate?? nah my guy, i need you to know what you want, and fast. yes, he's very hot and a chef, which adds 6 points for me, but waiting that long??? nope! still, better than levi. 8/10.

2nd. talia. she's the best li on season 1 in my opinion, and that's all because of her personality. her appearance is a damn nice bonus. she doesn't let anyone get away with lying/pretending, can't stand the bullshit and will call people on their bluff. besides, there's a tender side of her that she only shows with mc, and she's flirty at times and it's the most fun you have during her route. also, her, as a whole. 9/10.

1st. rohan. HE JUST DOES IT FOR ME OK??? after that first impression, and just how sweet and flirty he is, i can't just NOT be angry about the fact that he wasn't an li during the season. it was such a waste! he's so caring, always worried about mc, always asking what he can do. granted, other people do it, but rohan is just so interesting, so fucking hot... his kissing scenes are the best, his story about the empty banner tattoo, just how much shit he goes through during the season. LIKE- my boy deserved better. 10/10.

~season 2~ there are too many li's in this season and we didn't need all of them le'ts be honest.

jakub. by a landslide, the worst. there's a bunch of reasons for me to dislike the guy, but the main one is just how messy he is. let's not count the quirks they added to him, just focus on the fact that he fucked someone on day 1 from casa amor, proceeded to dump her, get with someone else, make her believe he was gonna bring her, only to stay "loyal" to hope and pretend none of that happened. why does this guy has stans is beyond me. -15/10.

lottie. here's why. she's a damn hypocrite and self righteous, always butting in people's business, never owning up to what she does. i only include her in my answers because i indulge the people that follow me, otherwise you would never see her name in my blog. physically? HOT. as a person? HOT MESS. -10/10

hannah. the lack of maturity really turns me off. she was way better on days 1-3 because she was being herself. the cringiest thing i can think for someone to do is to fake their confidence and pretend they're fine when they're CLEARLY NOT. if you know you're the shit you don't have to announce it, people know it. -5/10

felix. HE'S ANNOYING. -2/10

elijah. they made him continuously flirt with chelsea behind mc's back. then again, casa guys, because of the inconsistencies, will be rated low in this list. we are talking about game personality, not headcanons and such. 3/10

priya. she's immature as fuck. hot? yes. messy? unfortunately YES. i can't help but think about the way she threw the PRIVATE CHAT noah had with her on hope's face, in front of everybody. that really turned me off a lot. it's all besides the things she had done before, like operation, slime challenge... i don't know man, i want to believe she matured but... meh. yes, the hottest girl, physically, but not the best female li by a long shot. not even close. 4/10

kassam. i like him, i really do, but i prefer the 'constructed by headcanons" version i have of him. realistically there's not a lot to go from, the game didn't give us nearly enough. they did all the casa guys dirty, and particularly my favorites: kassam, arjun and carl. we get glimpses of who he is, what he does/likes, but to me it wasn't enough. also, kassam is not my type if we're talking body. 5/10

arjun. HE'S JUST SO DAMN HOT, physically, but the yoga story? oof, that was rough. granted, i do like his chat, particularly the one we have during brunch. if you go along with his goofiness, there's so much hidden below that mustache... but still, afterwards, just like the others, he becomes the same person as the og's. in my opinion, top 3 anime betrayals of all time, he also deserved better. appearance? 10/10. route/personality? 5/10

carl. aaaaaaaah. i have a multichapter post-villa story for him and still, he's gonna be pretty low in my list. WHERE'S THE ORIGINAL STORYLINE? WHERE'S THE COMMITMENT ISSUES BEING WORKED ON? WHERE IS THE WORKAHOLIC ANXIETY BECAUSE HE'S WORRIED ABOUT HIS COMPANY?? 6/10.

marisol. eh. it's complicated for me to talk about her because i don't really... care for her as an li. not because of her, but because of her route. as a person? i wish she was more confident in her choices. she says that graham trying to make her jealous is a bit childish but isn't that what she's doing by bringing him back? fusebox just really fucked marisol up and i hate them for it. appearance? 12/10, i think she's so damn hot, but overall? meh, 6.5/10.

bobby. yeah, yeah, i know, you love him. good for you. i can't stand impressions, and that's like 80% of his sense of humor. i think bobby, as an li, is fine. there wasn't anything thrilling in his route so his looks don't really matter to me. i find him cute and dependable, but i don't think cute does it for me. i like troubled people, you know? going through some shit, discovering things about themselves, growing, maturing, the whole thing. bobby is really an interesting guy, and he's really cute, i just don't find him appealing enough to make me fan myself. plus, he gets away with operation rather quickly and i don't... HMMMMM, i don't know... seems like there was a lot of double standards going on, you know? he doesn't make my heart race and at the end of the day, that's what attraction really means to me. as a person? 10/10. looks? 10/10. overall? 7/10.

noah. ah, my guy, shit or get off the pot. i do find noah EXTREMELY attractive, partially because of his looks, but also that warm personality and the way he talks about everything. to me he's fucking dreamy, absolutely tender and endearing, accidentally funny, and really sexy. i love him, i do, BUT the indecision my guy, holy shit. that takes away so much of the person he actually is. looks? 100/10. those eyes are sooo fucking hot! like, him, as a whole, holy shit. i reckon someone like him is the type of person that go viral every five years or so on facebook, and everyone is fainting when seeing him. that's how GOOD he looks. but like... not making up his mind? really drops the heart rate for me. 8/10.

rahim. fucking boy really got every single stan on their toes during the season, didn't he? NO ONE SAW THAT SHANNON FOOTAGE COMING. he was already really hot and gorgeous, but after he brought shannon, then dumped her for jo? THE AUDACITY?? 10 times hotter. he really said "oh, you think i'm harmelss? alright. watch me." i was like "alright, boy, pop off. do your thing. i'm gonna steal you anyway." and i did. and you know what? no regrets! i love his route from the beginning, i love his personality, i love his looks, i just wished they gave him a better night outfit, but that's not his fault. ibrahim to me is the second most underrated li in the game, and the fact that he can solve the rubik's cube, blindfolded, while doing crunches? BITCH, HE DOESN'T GET ENOUGH CREDIT. just for that, he should've been received by a red carpet made of panties. he's a solid 9/10 for me on every topic and 10/10 on looks.

elisa. now listen, disregard the "gossip sneezer" hiccup, elisa is not only accomplished being so young, she's unapologetic about her opinions, HELLA SMART, hard working, extremely sexy and just overall really attractive to me. here's the thing, they really tried to make us hate her because of the whole ordeal, but do you remember how sweet she is when she's trying to hide the fact that she's into mc? she's all clumsy, talkative, stuttering. she doesn't know where to look or what to do. i love that. she's super confident in herself but she kind of loses the floor when she sees mc, and i don't think there's anything cuter than that. i'm rating her high because she knows what she wants and she goes and fucking gets it, but not before going through an anxiety spiral and having to calm herself down. RELATABLE. the fact that she's so nervous, and really waits around for mc, is fucking cute. i like her, like i genuinely like her. she's not my type because i usually prefer thiccccccc, but she's still one of my favorites, and i wished her route was a bit longer. sneaking around with her, before we get a chance to couple up, is also really sweet. she gives a lot of reassurance, way more than other li's ever do. solid 10/10

henrik. i have the softest spot for him. i didn't care for him at first, not gonna lie. to me he was really goofy and just... too much. like, high energy. but after a couple of times just noticing what he was saying, the way he talked about love, connections, people in general? i was hooked. i love him, i really do. there's just so much tenderness to go around, he's so thoughtful and sweet, besides being quite quirky, but in a way that doesn't come across as trying hard. he's humble, smart, hot, cute, warm. i just really don't understand why he doesn't have more stans. yes, he brings blake back, but the imagery of him running towards mc, flipping his hair on jakub's face is just... ideal. he's a puppy, the good kind, and soft and unintentionally funny. AND HE HAS LONG HAIR. 10/10

gary. he's corny at times, but he has a good heart. i think he's funny without trying, has no shame in asking for a cuddle, is super massive body wise, which i honestly find so attractive. i could do without the brows but we make it work. besides that, he's a really simple guy, in a way that he doesn't need much to be satisfied. not everyone needs to be awarded or celebrated, and he gets it. he understand that he doesn't need to go long lengths to feel confident and appreciated. he just wants to live a nice life with a girl, have some kids, work, see his friends, his family. gary just wants to be happy and that comes through his route multiple times. besides all that, as a person who was invested in mc, he's charming as fuck. like- he just knows what to say and when to say it. i like his intimate scenes more than some of the li's combined. his looks, personality, storyline, dialogues, thunder thighs, tiddies. he's a solid 11/10 for me.

lucas. are we surprised? he's the most attractive because of everything that comes out of his mouth, and how. he's just out here, looking at us while we talk, giving smirks and fucking eyes, not caring if he makes us flush/feel warm. to him the more the better. he knows what to say, when to say it, how to say it and you know what? i can't help but loving him. he wants his freedom, he travels, he enjoys life but also wants to take care of the next one. he cares about the things that i care about, which is being a good person, learning how to be better, enjoying the opportunities that come, not give a shit about what people think. he's living his best life and it doesn't matter if he's villa! or returning!. i love that for him. and not to mention, i do think he's the hottest guy in all seasons. he doesn't wait around to give his opinion but he's not giving it if no one asks him, he's self aware. and despite being all that, he's still vulnerable at times, very noticeable when he feels a bit lonely, and yes he made mistakes, but everyone did. lucas is just the most attractive because he's authentic, unapologetic and fucking hot as hell. solid 12/10.

ugh, now... season 3. i genuinely hate the season it was too short i was bored and the only good thing to come out of it besides tai was... wait, there wasn't any. besides, say what you want, the li's weren't as interesting and the fandom is doing fusebox' job with headcanons and fanfics. don't be angry at me for telling as it is.

bill. AWFUL DESIGN. this one, indeed, is butt ugly. bill stans, if you find a faceclaim that DOESN'T look like the most ordinary fucking man you've ever seen, i'm sorry, that faceclaim does not apply. the guy has absolutely nothing going for him. no looks, no interesting personality, disgusting mayo talk, and he's kind of a douche. he might be RIGHT THERE with jakub for me, not gonna lie. actually, he's in the very bottom with jakub and dylan from s4. hate the guy.

ciaran. oh my god, just shut up about ireland and dogs already. here's the thing, ginger man are ATTRACTIVE to me, but where's the rest?? they did him really dirty and if he was supposed to only get a personality on boat party (if he ever got one) i didn't have the patience to wait for it. it's kind of like "you have to keep watching this show, it gets really good on episode three." I DON'T HAVE TIME OR ABILITY TO FOCUS FOR THAT LONG, DUDE, GIVE ME THE GOOD STUFF RIGHT AWAY OR PERISH, and that's ciaran for me.

rafi. meh. i do like his looks a lot, even though i feel they chose to make rafi as far from arabic as possible (as a person of color, who's a product of many ethinicities fucking each other, i know how that sounds. and i know egyptian people can look like a lot of ethnicities because mixing and all that, but i feel just a LITTLE BIT of apprehension from the company regarding his looks, and i can't stop thinking about it ok??? it's like this my guy, if rafi looked more like arjun and less like himself, would fusebox give him a butt storyline? MOST LIKELY. that's the thing. i feel they would've given him a really bad characterization, maybe even a harmful stereotype if he looked "more arabic" it's what i'm saying, but that's a conversation for another post). regardless of that, rafi is hot, yes, but he talks about his brother once, and then presses the "douchey actor button" on him and becomes a stereotype. i can't, y'all, i hate it.

camilo. OH MY GOD. they dismissed nicky as an li for these dudes? bill, ciaran, rafi, camilo? it's a no from me dog. camilo calling mc mamacita told me everything i needed to know: they were catering to clueless people that aren't latinx/hispanic/spanish and you can't change my mind. 'mamacita' is cringe as fuck. "ah, vena, that's not his entire personality." what is then? can you give me his character sheet? 'cause fusebox certainly didn't.

lily. MEH. next.

aj. SHE'S ADORABLE, don't get me wrong, but i've said many times before, i can't be attracted to her. i don't know why, i just can't. maybe it's how much energy she has and i couldn't keep up even if i tried...? maybe it's because she looks a bit... what's the word i'm looking for? GULLIBLE. that's what it is, she looks gullible. not dumb nor ignorant, just a bit too innocent. as an li? not interested. but i can say aj is objectively really beautiful and hot, i'm just not attracted to her. i feel protective over her.

yasmin. hot and a musician, and they still managed to not give her enough lines to save her life. during the season i noticed she barely had any screen time if she wasn't the li. granted, when she was, that stayed true too. not her fault, the game's. she had the most potential with me because guess the fuck what?? I LOVE CUTE GIRLS THAT ARE MUSICIANS, WHO DOESN'T?? but the lack of everything, the lack of time, of dialogues, back story, the detailing... i need more.

harry. here's the thing. the whole anger management thing was a very interesting storyline. did they do anything with it? no. did they ever touch the subject again? once, brushing it off rather quickly. do i think harry is hot? NOT IN THE SLIGHTEST. he looks so young to me! like... not young like some asian actors and singers do, no! he looks 14-16 to me, and that's the biggest "it's a no from me dog" ever. there's no fucking way i could ever think of him that way.

tai. COME ON, YOU KNEW THE RANKING OF SEASON 3. it had to be tai, he's borderline perfect to me. from design to personality. granted he didn't have any... twists in his storyline, BUT, his charm makes up for a lot of the mistakes they made in the season (in his route, that is, let's not get it twisted, i have no idea how much screentime he has out of it). tai is really about the personality they gave him, the one we can capture during the season, because DON'T GET ME STARTED ON BOAT PARTY. i don't know what that was and i pretend it never existed.

season 4. *insert disgust sound here*

read my words: NAJUMA, WILL, CORA, ANGIE, THABI, VALENTINA AND OLIVER FOR THE WIN. i don't even know who's a li besides najuma, will, angie and oliver to be honest, but i don't care.

kobi and james look so boring to me it hurts. none of the other men look remotely interesting, pretty, cute, handsome or hot. none of them have awaken anything in me that wasn't anger about their designs, which i hate with a burning passion.

i didn't play season 4 but i'm sleeping TIGHT knowing fully well i didn't waste my precious time.

i don't need to eat chocolate with pork to know it's gonna taste like the devil's anus, so for that reason, i have zero intentions of playing it. unless i can profit from it somehow, but until then, it's another no.

and those are my ratings.

NOW, if i could do a top 10, and choose just based off looks, this is my list, in whatever order because they could all rail me into oblivion:

lucas

gary

priya

tai

oliver

najuma

jake

noah

will

henrik

didn't mean to go in so deep but... rankings are hard for folks like me. everything counts and i can't objectively just say "hey, this person is hot" without knowing anything about them.

recognizing aesthetics? sure, but that's not what attraction means to me.

and this is not even counting people that weren't li's, 'cause you know shannon and hope would be part of this list, along with sammi (s1), seb, genevieve, elladine and nicky on s3, and possibly some people from s4 that i'm not sure if were li's.

alright, enough blabbering! those are my rankings jay lol

#litg #love island the game #litg season 2 #litg lucas #litg gary #litg bobby #litg jake #litg talia #litg rohan #litg noah #litg najuma #litg oliver #litg thabi #litg s1 #litg s3 #litg s4 #ranking #personal opinion

[deadmomjokes]

Omg I can’t believe I forgot to mention, my just-turned-3-year-old daughter watched Phantom Menace and LOVED it.

My husband was telling me about a dream he had that featured JarJar Binks, and naturally my daughter asked who that was. We figured we’d show her a little bit of the movie, just the bit that introduced JarJar, and she’d be content.

NOPE.

Miss Thing was enthralled. The robot droids! The spaceships! So many lasers! JarJar makes funny sounds! That little boy says “Yippee” all the time!

This kid who can barely make it through a 90 minute movie designed for children her age sat on the couch and watched the entire 191 minutes of this live-action, dialogue-driven political intrigue space opera and loved it. She even got mad at her dad for him daring to suggest that we could skip the “just talking” parts. “NO. Don’t skip it. I like to see the talking parts.”

It was kind of stressful for us, because there’s a lot more in that movie that needs explaining than we remembered. But we sat with her the whole time and talked about things she was seeing on her terms and at her level to make sure none of it overwhelmed or upset her. Even without our explanations and input, she followed a lot of what was going on, and a lot of what was being said by the characters. A little too much, for our nerves’ liking.

We were really, really hoping she’d have lost interest by the time the Duel of the Fates and death scenes came around, but of course she was still happily paying entirely too much attention. All she had to say about Maul’s fall down the pit was a simple, “Oh. He broke.” And she was a bit concerned during Qui-Gon’s funeral, but we explained that he wasn’t part of his body anymore, and his body didn’t feel anything, so the fire didn’t hurt him, and that was that. Totally chill.

Highlights from her watching include:

*opening crawl* “WOAH. That’s a lot of words!!!” Do you want us to read them? *terrified* “NO.”

Immediately determining the battle droids are called “bonker droids” and the droidekas are “roly droids” or “ball droids” interchangeably.

*us explaining that the holo messages are like video calls* “Oh. Is he gonna call his grandma?”

Dad: See that guy? His name is Maul. *giggling* “MALL? Like the store???” (cue a quick pause for a discussion on the concept of homophones)

*meets Watto* “He’s a butterfly!” Because he has wings? “And because he has a straw mouth! ... Nose!”

“How come Anakin’s mama doesn’t want him to do the pod race?” She’s worried it’ll be dangerous and he’ll get hurt. “Oh. Maybe he should wear a helmet to be safe.” (The absolute JOY on her face when she saw that he did, indeed, wear a helmet for the race....)

*scandaliazed gasp* “JarJar! We don’t lick things!”

Singing the Daniel Tiger “It’s okay to feel angry, it’s not okay to hurt someone” song to Darth Maul when he attacked on Tatooine

“That’s Yoda!” Yes, it is! “Why is he OLD?”

*points at R2D2* “It’s that blue fire truck again!” Is it a fire truck because it put out the fire on the spaceship? “No, it’s because he says ‘wee-oooh’ siren sounds.”

"Is a laser electricity?” No, it’s something different. “So why is it made of light when electricity makes light too?” *sweats in I-didn’t-take-that-class-in-college* .... .... ... Hey look, the droids are back! “Yay! :D”

*us explaining that Qui-Gon’s body got too hurt, and that’s why he died* “Because Maul did a stab with his saber?” Yeah. “... He was not careful.”

She’s very excited about the possibility of more Star Wars, but we’re gonna skip the rest of the prequels. Explaining one death and a bit of robot deactivation was one thing, but I am not about to show my toddler assassinations, gladiatorial death matches, and violent decapitation, let alone the implied murder of actual children.

To A New Hope it is!

#star wars #adventures of bean #have i mentioned how much i love my kid? #she's so fun #even when she's making me question everything i ever knew about the physics of light

[ellieellieoxenfree]

9, 26, 34

9. Thoughts on cliffhangers.

cliffhangers go in the box on the high shelf that not everyone can access. they need to be used sparingly, and they need to be used responsibly. they are VERY easy to make into a cheap gimmick that either a) relies entirely on the shock value or b) wears out its welcome immediately, but can be effective in the right hands.

i generally don't try to go TOO crazy with cliffhangers in my writing, mostly bc i'm slow as hell and nothing would irritate me more as a reader than to get a cliffhanger and then be sitting on my hands for six months waiting for a dipshit author to get around to writing the resolution. but i'm not opposed to them as a light sprinkling in one's writing. i just don't trust a lot of people to handle them well, and i usually include myself in that equation.

26. What would you describe as OOC?

like 95% of fic i have read lmao. that's mean as hell but i'm very very picky about what i like to read. i tend to get really salty about pet names -- i promise you most of the characters you write calling each other 'baby' Would Not Say That. i also think that people tend to let characterization go out the window when they write porn, and they let their own personal kinks speak first and characters speak a distant second.

dialogue is a big one. i think there's a way to deliberately stylize your writing so that it takes on a theatrical/outsized bent, and so it sidesteps the criticism of not sounding how people actually talk, which is one of my favorite things to both write and read. i love the heightened artificiality of certain exchanges -- a writer who can master that may not necessarily be hewing 100% to canon, but is playing with the characters and twisting them around in a way that is so incredibly satisfying to read.

on the other hand, there are a lot of instances that do the same thing -- writing Not How People Actually Talk -- but it's much more amateurish/clumsy. it doesn't flow or have a natural cadence that suggests the author is secure in their own voice. everyone can write, technically, in the sense that anyone is capable of opening up a notes app or google docs and putting words down, but not everyone knows their own voice. the dialogue becomes very utilitarian and often doesn't shift for different characters' personalities. things like vocabulary, including profanity or the lack thereof, sentence structure/length (eg, does the person ramble, or are they more succinct and to the point?), direct vs indirect communication styles, all contribute massively to a character's personality, and it really takes me out of a story when everyone uses the same interchangeable author-insert drone of a voice in their dialogue.

also, since i am a very trauma-heavy writer, people who ignore canonical traumas tend to irritate the ever-loving shit out of me. a character in a past fandom was shot, and many writers chose to ignore the entirety of their recovery or take any consideration into how this would affect their lives going forward. i understand not wanting to make that a central focus of the story -- writing it's hard work! -- but to just completely erase a major part of the narrative is SUCH a peeve of mine. if a character is broken, then for fuck's sake actually factor it in!! just because canon brushed it off doesn't mean that realistically, this wouldn't have consequences for the person, whether physically, mentally, emotionally, or all three. i love fluff, but i love broken characters more, and when i get the fluffy happy stories, i want weight to them. i want them to feel earned. and i KNOW that's probably unfair of me to people who just want to fuck around in the sandbox for a few hours, but it's such a disservice when i see my faves who are 95% trauma and 5% person be reduced to cheerful giddy stereotypes with no depth whatsoever.

34. Do you write to improve? Or is that not a concern for you?

i definitely do worry a lot about stagnating in my writing or doubling down on bad habits that hold me back. (i am horrible with telling rather than showing, for example, and my sentence structure tends to give me more gray hairs than i already have because it's so goddamn static.) i try to let go of some of that when i'm writing fic because it's a hobby and writing anything and finishing it generally is such a fucking win for me. with how shit-ass garbage for real the publishing world is, i've really lost so much of the drive to go pro, and the thing i feel like has the best chance of ever getting written wouldn't be fiction anyway -- that's a whole different ballgame.

but i do think about trying to sharpen my skills when i set out to write a new piece, yes. i always put a lot of thought, and often way too much thought, into how i want a story to turn out and what i'm trying to achieve with it. i have one i'm working on right now where i'm trying to ensure my parallels actually line up in a way that's going to be emotionally resonant. yeah, it's just a dumb hobby where i move little fictional dudes around and make them be sadder than what canon allowed them to be, but it's also a deeply rewarding and cathartic dumb little hobby. writing can be a purge of your own feelings -- which sometimes works, if you don't overpower a character with your own inner narrative, but sometimes definitely comes off as Oh, You're Going Through It, Huh? -- and a way to foster connection/understanding with people who are struggling to feel seen or understood. and telling stories does engage a certain part of the brain that likes to gnaw on new challenges and figure out ways to stretch itself and inhabit all these different characters who aren't necessarily a 1:1 projection of myself. i like to play around with voice or perspective and not get tied down to one way of telling stories (although i'm not egotistical enough to say i'm even close to succeeding at this; i'm honestly very pedestrian and uncreative when it comes down to the finished product). i'm always looking for a way to take the big, beautiful ideas in my head and actually turn them into stories that live up to the original idealized image i had. do i get there? almost never. but the fight continues.

#asks! #thank you these were fun :V

[akane-kurokawa]

Chapter 140 thoughts.

I keep typing up what I feel about this chapter, and keep finding myself unable to. I liked a lot of this chapter, maybe even all of it, but something is definitely bothering me.

Content warning for CSA

Airi.

Now, saying I dislike the pedophile rapist is not revolutionary, but let me get into my reasoning. I know this is an in universe production, so this is all subject to change if we learn the bias of this, but right now she isn’t a character to me.

Airi is written to be someone exclusively evil, all of her actions are for the sake of controlling and tormenting her victim. It’s like she was put on the earth solely to hurt and she takes pleasure in doing just that.

I guess after the nuanced abusers like Ai and Sarina’s mom, I found myself disappointed with the dehumanization of Airi. Child sexual assault is a very very real part of the world we live in, and abusers are real people with good and bad to them. That’s why the unabashedly evilness of Airi at the moment puts a bad taste in my mouth, it feels like an over simplification of something much more complex.

That said, I overall did enjoy the chapter otherwise. The writing of Kamiki as a victim was very good, the way he pushes his trauma down, lies out of self defense and convenience interchangeably was really well down and his internal dialogue (which I am unsure if it’s part of the movie??? Are they doing a voice over later or something???) was well written.

His dynamic with Ai is about what I expected, and it’s interesting to see their back and forth. The lack of Ruby being a freak about her brother/dad was very welcome, and it was entirely treated like a flashback sequence, which is cool.

We still haven’t seen a start to their relationship yet, let alone the end, but I’ll be curious to see how both are handled in this new perspective.

#manga post #chapter thoughts #onk 140 #CSA mention