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phoenixkaptain · 2 years

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Din Djarin and Luke Skywalker are both two men who get progressively scarier the more you watch them.

Like, Luke in A New Hope was baby af. He was a child. Even in the Empire Strikes Back, what a little guy. A tiny fellow.

Then boom, Return of the Jedi, and Luke is smiling and like “Tell these Ewoks that you are their God and that if they do not release us, you will be Angered…” He is in all black, he is missing a hand, he has gone off the rails conpletely. He’s like “How will I tell Leia that we’re siblings? …Oh! I know! Riddles!” Luke Skywalker gets struck by Force Lightning like nine times and still gets up and drags his dad’s lifeless body out. There were moments one might look at him and think, “no, ur wrong, he still babie” but you are the wrong one! He goes into Jabba’s Palace and straight up stands there smiling and threatening him the whole time. He’s standing on a plank over the Sarlacc and he’s still like “So this is how you’d like to play :)” Luke straight up snapped, he got spooky by the end of the og trilogy.

Din Djarin, straight off the back, is kind of intimidating. He is a man in full armour who hunts people and freezes them in carbonite and appears behind their shoulders when they least expect it. But, after Grogu shows up, you probably think “this man is weak to this baby, he will become soft” but no! The opposite happens!

I’m talking about episode 6. The Prisoner. I have wanted desperately to talk about this for days, but have only just found the words to do so. Let me explain.

Din Djarin is filmed and edited like a horror movie villain. Like a supernatural force of evil who stalks his prey. Straight up like a slasher villain out of the eighties. There’s hints of this beforehand, what with Din appearing behind a guy in the very first episode, and the fact that he has been shot point blank (many times) but no matter how many times he falls, he always gets back up. Okay, that’s all fine and good.

But episode 6 goes beyond that. He stalks a bunch if assholes through flickering red lights. He splits them up, he takes them out one by one, and the last person standing manages to get out, thinks they’ve escaped, only to die (technically) at Din’s hand anyway. He is straight up a horror movie villain I don’t know how else to explain it, he is a horror movie villain.

Don’t take this the wrong way. Being spooky and intimidating isn’t a bad thing, especially not in Star Wars! Luke Skywalker and his ability to say terrible things while smiling, Din Djarin and his predilection for appearing right behind someone, these ar egood things. I like these things a lot. I love these. I love that Luke is the cutest little scary fella in the galaxy. I love that Din is the most awkward little scary fella in the galaxy. I think it’s great.

Why do I bring this up?

Well, for one, I have been trying to word my view on Din Djarin for days now. I love this man, I have to mock him or I’ll feel incomplete. And I think it’s a disservice to pretend that Luke isn’t a person who most people in the Star Wars universe think about and shiver. Don’t get me wrong, I love sunshine boy Luke, but he isn’t really like that, at least not by this point in the series. He just strikes me as the type of person to say incredibly dark, deranged things with a blank face, then smile at cute kittens. Luke is messed up, and we should talk about it more because it’s very interesting to explore the various ways he’s messed up.

But for another, I am a big fan of Din and Luke being buddies who go absolutely anywhere and scare the shit out of people. A Mandalorian next to a Jedi Knight? Two people who eat Storm Troopers for breakfast?? Can you imagine how much the fragments of the Empire that are still left are quaking??? Those two would go absolutelu anywhere and the anyone on planet who ever sided with the Empire would give themselves up or run, immediately.

Like, Din singlehandedly took out that whole troop on Nevarro. All by himself, he shot out all of the Storm Troopers and everyone inside and I like to think there are whispered stories about him similar to the ones about the Boogeyman.

Now, I know Luke didn’t actually kill the Emperor and Darth Vader, but does anyone in universe know that? Or does everyone think that Luke not only blew up the Death Star, but he also murdered the two head honchos and came out completely unscathed? Luke is definitely a boogeyman.

I don’t know. Something about two terrifying men walking into a bar full of Imperials only to walk out five minutes later of a bar full of dead Imperials just really fills me with joy. Something about the mental image I have of Storm Troopers fearfully sharing increasingly terrifying stories about these two makes me happy. I like bad people being scared shitless, all right? Sue me.

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samglyph · 2 months

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Good morning. Season 4 finale.

Holy smokes gang. What an episode. I absolutely loved it. I think it took a little bit for me to become really invested despite the in medias res thing we had going on, but once that action started I was in it. The visuals this episode were great, I especially liked the description of the mollusk mask on the viziers face. I also was quite pleased about the little reference to hastur being the peacock king that’s fun.

I know a lot of people are sad about the butcher. I am not because as soon as he showed up again I figured he would be one of the casualties of the episode, and narratively I like that it was Kayne who did it as opposed to Larson or an unnamed cultist or alien, especially considering I had a theory that Kayne was connected to the music in his head and the powers he had. I did love the twist of him being on our side though I actually audibly reacted to that. It surprised me but made sense in the perfect way. It also makes perfect sense to not include that scene, but I am excited to see some of the fan work that comes out of that missing piece. I’m AMAZED that Charlie managed to make it out alive, but then again he might be bleeding out on a street in Spain right now. Oh well. No body no death so I’m counting him as still kicking.

Speaking of Charlie, I loved the scene where John was forced to come clean. I liked how it twisted the previous scene of Arthur speaking for John and John finally being heard by someone else and feeling so so happy, to now be forced into a position where that newfound relationship is potentially going to be destroyed because he no longer has the option of privacy. Wild.

Of all the scenes with yellow, predictably Arthur’s confrontation and apology was my favorite. He’d already admitted fault in a previous episode but this I think is where it really hit home. And in other lines, while Yellow remained adamant that he didn’t care, you could tell that he genuinely did want to understand the connection between Arthur and John, and wanted to understand why he couldn’t experience the same thing. Most tragic fragment of a nightmare king. I hope you have fun flaying Larson alive for the next couple thousand years. Also why was Larson so flirty this episode dude he killed your son stop whispering in his ear like that.

And then of course, we get to Kayne. Kayne Kayne Kayne Kayne. Glad we got confirmation that Kayne isn’t/it doesn’t matter if he’s nyarlthotep because while have a fondness for the crawling chaos and Call of Cthulhu mythos, I actually like when things are separate from that. Plus I think it makes him scarier if he can’t quantify his existence. Holding out his bloody hand for Arthur to take and Arthur choosing to go with him willingly obviously paralleling his denial of Larson earlier in the episode. I also liked his takedown of Larson a lot. Fuck that guy.

Anyway @everyone who questioned why I draw Kayne covered in blood in every scene even when he’s not fresh off a carcosan murder spree how does it feel to be wrong.

#malevolent part 40 #malevolent spoilers #malevolent #again like I know it’s kinda mean to be like ‘it’s horror what did you expect’ but I’m mostly shocked MORE people didn’t die this episode

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megumishotgf · 6 months

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comforting megumi after a nightmare

summary: as the title says! aged up gumi. my precious boy i just want him to be happy he deserves this type of comfort!!

warnings: manga spoilers (!!), possible mentions of depression and suicide (very small), canon divergence (i’m resurrecting people idgaf)

masterlist

megumi fushiguro has had a very difficult life.

his mother passed away when he was too young to even comprehend it happening, and his deadbeat father had abandoned him and sold him off to an unbearable clan, preferring to indulge in his gambling habits than family matters. despite being luckily (?) 'rescued' by gojo and growing up relatively normal, megumi has a whole lot of self-esteem issues that were embedded into his psyche at a shockingly young age.

megumi’s cold, unwelcoming and closed off from the world. that’s what he thinks. he was forced to mature and act older than he was to survive and protect himself and tsumiki, leading to the formation of many interpersonal barriers, which have restricted his relationships throughout his entire life.

jujutsu tech seemed like a fresh start. he met yuuji, nobara, you. you. you were different from everyone. megumi finally had people to care about, other than himself and his sister (and gojo too, although he will never admit it). but how many people has he witnessed die unspeakable deaths, some at his very own hands? how many people did he hurt when sukuna had taken over his body? how the hell did he even survive that? maybe he wasn’t even meant to.

nevertheless, in the cloudy, messy fragments of his broken mind, you were the sun. how could megumi ever think of leaving you? the one thing he is certain of is that you love him more than anything. you’ve never given him any reason to doubt that. while he doubts whether or not he is deserving of you, he knows you would have been broken if something happened to him. and so he keeps going, just for you.

it’s the middle of the night when megumi finally awakens from another awful nightmare. he had only been asleep for an hour maximum before those terrorising memories had plagued his mind again, replaying as constant reminders of who he had hurt and lost.

you’re still besides him, snuggled into his side, chest rising slowly and calmly. how can something so precious be able to sleep so peacefully next to someone like him?

megumi is too consumed in his thoughts to notice you stirring besides him, blinking away the sleepiness in your eyes. you take a few seconds to register that he’s wide awake and visibly panicked. you can feel the pounding of his heartbeat underneath the hand placed on his chest and he feels awfully shaky.

you sit up instantly, sensing that something’s wrong. “gumi? are you okay?”

megumi swallows thickly before answering, afraid that his voice might falter. refusing to lock eyes with you, he stares (sulks) at the ceiling above you. “mmh. sorry, baby. didn’t mean to wake you.”

you can see through his facade, though. you notice the way he’s trembling and how he's covering his face, as if you studying his features for too long will give away his misery. “hey. another bad dream?”

megumi hesitates for a moment, ultimately deciding this isn’t something he will be able to keep from you. you can see right through him. “yeah. again.”

you’ve been in this situation more times than you can count. you insist that these bad dreams and the thoughts that come along with them will eventually dissipate (after all, time is the best healer), but it's becoming increasingly difficult for the both of you. is your comfort enough? are you even helping megumi at all? what if this deteriorates into something worse? your mind is racing with your personal anxieties, and your own memories of the awful war, but megumi takes priority. you usher him to rest on your chest, while one of your hands begins to play with his hair. yeah, he loves that more than anything, that always helps.

“tell me what happened, hm?” you say softly. you don’t ever want to push him, but you also don’t want him to keep the dream himself, hoping that by confiding in you, you can take some of the heavy burden for yourself.

megumi hesitates again, but as he breathes in your familiar scent and focuses on the slow rhythm of your heartbeat, he feels the weight on his shoulders being lifted. “i… killed you. and yuuji. and ‘miki,” he recalls. it’s the same unbearable scene that’s played over and over in his unconscious mind like broken film, even if it’s been years since the initial trauma.

“sukuna,” you correct him, arms tightening around him. “you did nothing wrong, gumi. i’m here holding you, right? and yuuji and tsumiki are perfectly fine, too. sukuna won’t be able to hurt any of us ever again.”

“but you were hurt. one of you almost did die - at my own fucking hands.”

you can sense his anger now. megumi’s angry at himself. he thinks he’s so damn weak and that’s why people got hurt. you know that’s the way he sees himself and it kills you inside. you hush him before he can spiral any further into his angry thoughts, hands soothingly caressing his skin. gentle strokes of his upper arm - the kind of tender touches that can lull him to sleep and ground him.

“you were so young, megumi. you shouldn’t have had to carry such responsibility at that age. you have immense strength, mentally and physically. but sukuna’s actions are not your burden to carry. you were a victim, not the instigator. you’d give everything to us, the people you care about. and we love you. we know you’d never hurt us, yeah?”

you feel megumi nod against your chest. he’s grinding his teeth, blinking away unwanted tears that eventually fall onto your skin. your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him to look at you.

“humans cry, gumi. it’s okay. you don’t need to feel embarrassed, especially in front of me. come on, you’ve literally seen me sob uncontrollably during frozen.”

megumi chuckles at you and it feels like a breath of fresh air seeing him more light-hearted.

“see? you’re okay. you’re smiling again. you look so pretty,” you coo at your boyfriend. a blush tints his cheeks but he can’t stop the stupid grin that forms on his face.

“yeah, yeah. whatever. i’m okay now,” megumi replies, snuggling into your chest once more. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“you won’t ever have to find out, baby. i’m always gonna be here,” you say, brushing away his hair so you can kiss his forehead. “do you wanna stay up a little more?”

megumi’s reaching for your laptop seconds later and that gives you your answer. he puts on frozen, of course. he cries like a baby when elsa and anna reunite, but it's okay because you're there to kiss his tears away.

yes i'm in my serious megumi brain rot era!! i have so many unfinished one-shots that will be coming soon because he refuses to leave my brain!!

#megumi x reader #megumi my beloved #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #megumi headcanons #megumi fluff #megumi comfort #i love him omfg

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lunamaraproject · 3 months

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LUNAMARA: Fragments [5]

💥

If Felix closes his eyes, he can pretend that the distant rumble is merely thunder. That the pattering against the canvas of the tent is just the rain. That the cries of shock and pain are…

Well, his imagination isn’t all that good.

“Why is it that I’m always the one who has to patch you up?” Cas grumbles, Felix’s wrist held delicately in his hands as they glow with magic. The wound isn’t that deep honestly, but you’d think he was about to lose the hand if Cas wasn’t there to heal him.

“You say that like you’d let anyone else do it,” Felix teases, and receives a sharp look for his attempt to lighten the mood.

“It wouldn’t make us very good morale boosters if they saw us getting blown to pieces,” he snaps, before turning his attention back to the gash. Felix’s own crystal has hardened around the wound itself, leaving a large chunk missing, a ravine between his palm and his forearm. Actually, with the right angle, it is possible that someone could chip a little further in, and then he really would lose his hand. The pain is dull, and it tingles as Cas uses his own magic to fill in the gap, glimmering midnight obsidian against garishly bright fire-opal.

Temporary measures secured, Cas closes a gold cuff around Felix’s wrist and sits back to inspect his work. Like this, you can’t even see the injury.

“It’s only a chip,” Felix utters softly. “And we’re more than just morale boosters.”

Cas huffs an unamused snort out of his nose as he stands up, moving back over to the medical supply kit. “I’m not a military grade healer and you’re not a military grade anything, so tell me what exactly we’re here for, Fel.”

“Hey, I resent that! I’ve been really useful!” Felix frowns.

He doesn’t even get a reply to that one, as Cas pulls his armour back on, marking him as a medic. Felix worries about him when he’s walking around with a great big target on his back. The enemy has shown they’re not averse to shooting non-combatants. For all that Cas frets about Felix’s safety, he’s the one who is most at risk here. There’s only 15 years between them, but that’s enough for Cas to assume that Felix doesn’t know how to take care of himself, or what their real purpose is here.

And it’s not for morale. The soldiers that see him and Cas rarely ever smile.

Anger is a great motivator. Poor wretched orphans, we - your starfolk brethren - will avenge your losses for you.

Like Felix even asked.

Another great rumble of not-distant-enough thunder, another chunk of a beautiful world rendered into ash and dirt to rain down on the surface again, wrenching trees from the soil, lakes from their beds, and people from their lives. Felix would rather not have any of it associated with his name, nor with Cas’.

But the Queen said they had to, and what authority have either of them got to say no?

🌗

More from LUNAMARA:

Fragments [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]<-- More every Thursday!

Comic [Prologue]

Art by Luka (http://nousanti.tumblr.com/) Story by Pidge (http://pidgestories.tumblr.com/)

#lunamara #lunamara project #cassius corvus #felix cygnus #artists on tumblr #pidgestories #nousanti #fragments

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wandafiction · 3 months

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In Every Universe - Part 2

Warnings: Angst, Big sad stuff, sad Wanda

Wanda watches with tears in her eyes as you kneel on the floor, eyes closed and head cast downwards, the harsh lights making it difficult to tell if it's night or day outside. The small window not doing much at letting the outside world in, no sounds other than yours and hers breathing fills the surroundings. She isn’t even sure how long she has been watching, staring, hoping that you will just look at her. Open your eyes and look at her. It’s only been a few hours since you got back but for her it's been months, a year, since she last saw you. She can see it's you, her Y/n, but if you decide to look at her she knows it's only going to be a fragment of you staring back at her.

“You know I thought you would have left by now.”

Wanda could cry at the sound of your voice, not because she has been wanting to hear it since the day you left but because what she hears hardly sounds like the person she knows. There’s no warmth to it, no emotion, none of your normal bubbly energy. It's changed. It's dark. It's cold. It's more hoarse, gravely, you sound like a complete stranger to her and it breaks her heart to think that she has lost you in a completely different way to before.

“I couldn’t ever leave you, I promised to be by your side through it all. So here I am.” You chuckle slowly, almost forcefully, and Wanda holds back the tears as the shell of the person you were slowly dies out in front of her.

“You’ve been watching me for the past 3 hours, just watching, not doing anything. Observing. Why?” Wanda takes a step closer but you don’t move an inch so she decides to stay where she is, looking down at her hands as she fiddles with her sleeves.

“Why would I not? I needed to know you were alive and that you were really here.”

“So you’re afraid I will disappear? Or escape?” Wanda shuffles on her feet taking a quick glance up at you, but you simply continue to look at the floor; or your hands which are hanging in front of you between your legs.

“I was afraid that I would lose you again.” That got your attention, lifting your head so you could look at Wanda in front of you, tilting your head quizzically.

“Can I ask you another question?” Wanda smiles nodding, taking a small step closer to you.

“Of course you can. You always were inquisitive.” The corner of your lip twitches into a smile but as quick as it comes it fades again into a look of confusion.

“Who am I to you?”

That was it, the moment Wanda felt her heart crumble into so many pieces, she didn’t know how she would ever start picking them up again. The person who she loved with her entire being, the person who brought her out of her shell, the person who has made her the happiest she has probably ever felt, the person who doesn’t remember. She looks down to the ring on her finger, the tears building in her eyes as she looks down at the thin silver band spinning it on her finger.

“You’re my Y/n.” She swallows the lump in her throat looking back up to you, seeing nothing but confusion and curiosity and it breaks her heart all over again. “You’re my future, you’re my angel. You’re my love. You were to be my wife, you hadn’t actually proposed but I found the ring a few months ago.”

“I, huh.” Your brows scrunch the last bit of Wanda’s hope fading away when she hears you chuckling. “That’s a good story, very good indeed. Gosh you nearly got me. You should be an actress, I mean those tears and the look on your face. No wonder they make you do the interrogations, I’m sure many people have fallen for your tricks.”

“I-” Wanda blinks rapidly, forcing the fresh tears away and wiping aggressively at the ones that have already fallen.

“No, I mean seriously. If I wasn’t trained in how to be interrogated then I probably would have fallen into your trap. You do this act for everyone or just me? You come up with a different story each time. And if that doesn’t work do you choose to use your powers, warp their minds.”

You smirk evilly as Wanda sucks in a sharp breath, turning around to hide the quivering of her lips and the tears she can’t fight any more. You pout playfully as she turns back around to look at you, a new determination in her eyes as she takes a step closer to the glass door that separates you two. You stand up, the cuffs on your wrists rattling together as you stumble towards the door, a sadistic smirk on your face, walking towards the door; now both of you only inches apart.

“Please Y/n.” The desperation in her voice only makes your smirk grow.

“I’m sorry but Y/n isn’t here right now, please try again later.” You laugh twirling around as Wanda hits the glass.

“Don’t you dare turn your back on me.”

“Oooh someone is a little angsty today. What did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Oh maybe little Miss Maximoff is on her period. Is that it? Are you having a hard time of the month?” You pout looking back at Wanda whose jaws locked in place scowling at you but the moment she looks into your eyes her facade breaks.

“I just want my Y/n back.” Her voice cracks, bottom lip quivering, her eyes filling with fresh tears as she rests her hand on the glass door. “Please come back to me.”

“Oh wow, Mrs Maximoff, why didn’t you alert us that Y/n was awake.” The boy you’ve studied and learned to be called Peter Parker, aka spider-man, skips into the room with a wide smile as he looks at you.

“Pete…” If Peter hears Wanda he doesn’t pay attention as he puts a bit of paper against the glass for you to look at.

“Look I got top marks. I thought since you were back you would want to be the first to know. Oh and get this, I have a girlfriend now, her name is MJ and she is like so super cool. She even managed to figure out I was spider-man because she is crazy observant and noticed some patterns. But yeah, oh and she is really pretty, like really really pretty. I want you to meet her at some point, you know when you’re all better and that.”

“I would love that kid.” The smile on his face pulls at your heartstrings a little, a foreign feeling growing inside, and you don’t have the heart to tell him you don’t know who he is (or remember who he thinks you are), so you hazard a guess with your question. “So tell me. Are you still at the top of your class?”

“I am now, it sort of dropped when you went missing because I was spending more time with Mr Stark and the rest of the avengers, especially Mrs Maximoff here, but when my teachers told me I was falling behind too quickly I had to do something. So I did the bare minimum to get me through and when these guys went to rescue you, I did this test and did my best. Bam top marks.” You furrow your brows looking towards Wanda who has her lips pressed together closing her eyes when she sees you looking.

“That’s really good to hear Pete, I uhm.” You look back to Peter who is looking down at his test paper with the widest smile. “I, uhm, I’m proud of you kid. Uh, why don’t you head back upstairs and relax. I think after getting top marks a little movie night won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, yeah cool. For sure. I hope you feel better soon Y/n.” He turns to look at Wanda who puts on a smile. “I will see you later Mrs Maximoff.”

“Bye Pete.” You watch their interaction carefully as Peter hugs Wanda, the young woman pulling him into a tighter embrace than necessary but he doesn’t seem to mind as he simply copies her actions. “Go and relax.”

“Okay, I am going to tell Miss Romanoff Y/n is awake, she has been nervous for this moment.” With that the young boy disappears and you turn to look at Wanda again.

“Why does spider boy call me Y/n but everyone else by their titles?” A ghost of a smile makes its way onto Wanda’s face at the words you use, a small amount of hope relighting inside her.

“Because you’re like his older sister so calling you Miss y/l/n, or Mrs Maximoff as it stands, would be a little weird. Don’t you think?”

“Certainly.” A silence falls upon you and you take the time to take in the woman in front of you, hazy images fluttering in the back of your mind too hard to concentrate on or distinguish but they are there and the way your heart skips a beat when she looks at you.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” You shrug looking at the door the young boy had left through.

“He looked so happy with his grade and I couldn’t let the fact that I don’t actually remember anything put him down. I may not remember anything but being a soldier for HYDRA but damn were the exams they made me do hard. You know they made me do some sort of coding exam, now I’m all for hail hydra and taking over the world but damn do I really need to know how to hack. You know I don’t have my powers for nothing.” You chuckle not noticing how your words are affecting wanda but when you look back to her you see the devastation clearly on her features.

“How long were you with Hydra?” The raspy voice pulls both your attention to the door, before you can question Wanda, seeing Natasha enter the room moving to stand next to Wanda quietly making sure she is okay.

“I’m honestly not sure. All I sort of remember is waking up with a big fucking headache in a dark concrete room.”

“You’re being very open for someone who works for a top secret Hydra operation.” You shrug with a smirk at the black widows remark.

“Well I am answering the questions you are asking, which I know don’t give you any information. So for example I can tell you I woke up hooked up to morphine and probably some other things. So go ahead and ask away.”

“What’s your name?”

“Classified. Wait no, I just don’t know that one. Agent P, you know like agent pyrokinesis but P for short. They weren’t very creative. Oh and Miss Maximoff and the spider Kid keep calling me Y/n, so I guess that’s who I am. Or was.”

“Do you know who we are?”

“Yes. You are Natasha Romanoff aka black widow aka traitor to the red room. The other chick is Wanda Maximoff aka a traitor to the cause.” Wanda’s features darken slightly at your answer, her once fragile demeanour turning cold.

“I have a question.” You lift your hands up to your left ear, the handcuffs rattling as you do.

“I’m all ears my dear.” Wanda scoffs rolling her eyes but you can see the vulnerability behind them, plaguing her thoughts and it makes you chuckle as she tries to act like she isn’t affected by whatever she is fighting behind her eyes.

“What is the first thing you said to me when you joined the team?” You scoff turning around and walking to the other end of the room looking up to the window that is letting its own slither of light in.

“I wouldn’t know since I have never been a part of your team. I am a product of Hydra and you cannot tell me different because all of my memories, everything up here.” You turn around your eyes glowing a hazy orange, the cuffs around your wrists glowing blue as they dampen the use of your powers, tapping your temple harshly. “Everything is Hydra, so tell me why would I ever fall into whatever game you are trying to play.”

“It's not a game Y/n. You died, or so we thought I guess, just over a year ago. You were crushed under a building, you played the hero and got yourself killed. Or captured. I don’t know what happened because I remember watching that building collapse in on itself and FRIDAY couldn’t pick up any vital signs and when we went looking for your body. All we found were parts of you. So don’t stand there and tell me to make it make sense when you’re the one who was meant to be dead. We buried an empty coffin! We had a fucking funeral for you! I lost the love of my life and yet here you are, or what’s left of you standing in front of me.

“Wanda.” Natasha tries to grab her attention but the boiling of her emotions has now become an overflowing mess and all she wants is to be comforted by her favourite person.

“I will get you back. I will have my Y/n back.”

“How can you get someone back if they were never really yours! There has to be a reason I don’t remember you. Obviously we meant different things to one another than you believe because I’m sure I would remember being in love with someone, wanting to be married to someone. For fuck sake I think I would remember being a part of the avengers. Now what sort of interrogation is this? I am not being questioned about anything but my lack of memory, which is not helping any of you. So why am I really here?”

“We are trying to get you back Y/n.” You storm back over to where the two women are standing, pressing your finger against the glass as you look between Natasha and Wanda.

“No, what you are trying to do is confuse me, make me believe this charade and then you’re going to try and break me. I know these tactics, I've used them before. I’ve seen first hand how to break someone emotionally, so badly that they spit word vomit at you just to try and save their own fucking life while throwing everyone else under the bus. I am not who you think I am, so start asking me some real fucking questions or leave me alone.”

“Why did you lie to the kid?” You softly sigh, closing your eyes as you turn your back to the women sliding down the glass door until you're sitting on the floor, Natasha’s question not the first thing you expected.

“As I told traitor number 2, he looked proud of his grade and I wasn't going to break his heart.”

“Why?” You pull your legs up to your chest hanging your arms over your knees as the Russian asks her question, Wanda now allowing herself to cry since you were no longer looking at her

“There were a lot of kids in the programme, I was in charge of helping train them in hand to hand combat. They would come in beaten or bruised from experiments or missions and then I would train them for hours on end. So when I told them they were doing well, that I was proud of the progress they had made, the smiles on their faces were something that I wish I could see more of.”

“So you found yourself being a parent to the children.” You shake your head leaning it back against the glass looking up to the harsh lights.

“No, more like a sibling.”

“Did they ever experiment on you?”

“When doesn’t Hydra experiment on people? I was a lab rat, they wanted to find a way to recreate my powers or something. I’m not sure, I just remember lots of tests.”

“Do you ever remember a chair that looked like this?” You turn your head to look at the picture Natasha is holding against the glass.

“Barely. I only remember being dragged into the room where it is, then everything goes hazy, Why what is it?”

“It's how they would have wiped any memories of your past life. They did it to one of our team members, Bucky.”

“Oh, cool I guess.” You scrunch your brows, seeing flashes of images in your head but nothing breaking through the haziness, so they remain flashes.

“You might know him as the winter soldier.”

“I’ve heard the stories Miss Romanoff.” It's all you say standing from the floor brushing your hands on the grey sweatpants. “I’m tired. Can we continue this tomorrow?”

“Preferably not, but I’m sure with all the information we have tried pushing on you, your brain must be hazy. So yes we can continue tomorrow.” You look at Natasha with a thankful smile because she was right, your head was pounding and you just wanted to sleep it off. “I will see you first thing tomorrow Y/n.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less Miss Romanoff.” You sit on the edge of the bed with your head in your hands listening to the distinct click of the door. “I see you still want to stare at me, Miss Maximoff.”

“Not starring.” You turn your head slightly to see Wanda with her hand pressed flat against the glass as her watery eyes never waver from looking at you.

“Right, yeah, sure. Is there anything more I can do for you Miss Maximoff?” Wanda lightly shakes her head chuckling to herself.

“I just want you to remember.” You smile sympathetically, the woman’s emotions playing with your own.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember you, or anyone. I’m sorry I don’t remember what we are to each other. Who we are to each other.”

“I know.” Wanda’s eyes close briefly as she leans her forehead against the glass, opening them again to look at you as her hand slowly slides down the glass. “I really thought I had lost you forever, and maybe I still have but I won't give up on you. On us.”

“You know this interrogation feels more like an intervention.” Wanda laughs at that, the butterflies going crazy inside you when you hear it and you feel yourself smile quickly before pushing whatever you are feeling down.

“You wanna know something.”

“Humour me Miss Maximoff.”

“You always could easily make me laugh, even in the most emotional state.”

“Well I’m just that funny I guess.” Wanda firmly puts her hand back on the glass standing up properly.

“No, only you could make me smile or laugh when I am scared or upset.”

“Well, are you scared or upset now?” Again Wanda shakes her head. “Then what is it you are feeling Miss Maximoff?”

“Grief and heartache.” Your eyes drop to her hand on the glass, the urge to stand up and put yours against it is big but you fight it down.

“I’ve heard that those are some of the worst types of pain.” Wanda traces a small heart on the glass nodding slowly.

“It’s the most painful thing I’ve ever felt.” You nod in acknowledgement not knowing what else to say. You give her a small smile as your eyes look back up to her face, with her tear stained cheeks.

“Good night Miss Maximoff.” She smiles sadly, her hand dropping from the glass.

“Good night Y/n.”

Wanda pulls her sleeves down past her hands as she turns slowly to walk to the door, the tears on her cheeks drying as she uses her sleeves to wipe up the last of them, her breathing shaky as she does. Your eyes don’t move from her as they follow her path to the door, carefully watching how she bites her lip and closes her eyes to stop herself from crying anymore. With her hand reaching out to the handle, millimetres away she looks over to you.

“Just one more thing.” You tilt your head, her hand landing on the handle slowly twisting it.

“What is it Miss Maximoff?” She slowly pulls the door open leaning against it slightly, your eyes meeting one another.

“I love you in every universe.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader

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mibyledraws · 10 months

Text

alt text 101 for artists

I’m not an accessibilty expert, but I gathered these tips here and there, and it has really been helping me writing better alt texts - and I hope they will help others too!

Alternative text is a description of an image that can be read by a screen reader. It also can help the understanding of an image for people who don't use screen readers.

What do you write?

It all goes down to including what is relevant to give the user an accurate idea of your artwork:

the medium you used to make the artwork (is it a digital illustration? a traditional oil painting? a graphite pencil sketchbook doodle?)

the subject of the artwork

anything that is relevant for understanding the meaning of the artwork. For instance, is the lighting important, or does it bring a particular meaning or mood?

Write sentences - don’t just throw away key words. EDIT: don't write full sentences, but phrases and fragments to keep your description concise

adding one more thing after getting feedback: keep it concise! Under 125 characters (even 100 is best)

Where/how do I add it?

The alt text feature is more or less obvious on the apps we usually post on. In doubt, please just search for it on a web browser, you’ll find how to add it in the blink of an eye :)

On Twitter

enable the alt text reminder! Everytime you post an image, it will remind you to add alt text if you forgot it. Go in your settings, then “accessibility, display and languages”. Then “accessibility”, and in the media section, check the “receive image description reminder” box.

on web browser: once you’ve uploaded your image, click on “add description” under it.

on the app: once you’ve uploaded your image, click on the “+alt” bubble in the right bottom corner that appeared on your image.

On Instagram

at the bottom of the posting page, go in “advanced settings”, then “accessibility”, then “write the alt text”.

On Tumblr

once you’ve uploaded your image, click on the three dots icon that appears when your mouse is on the image, then click on “update the description”.

On Mastodon

once you’ve uploaded your image, click on the “description missing” message that appears on it.

On your website (portfolio, shops, etc)

Where and how you can add it depends on the platforms but there’s always a way! My tip for this would be to schedule yourself an alt text audit of your website to take a moment when you would search how to do it and when you would add all the necessary alt texts! I’d also encourage you to pay attention to some other accessibility features - for instance contrast between background and text. There are lots of ressources out there and I admit it can sound overwhelming: digital accessibility is an expertise, a job field in itself after all. In my opinion, taking it a few steps at a time is a good way to go! For instance I like to do little accessibility audits of my portfolio every once in a while and check a new area that I might have missed before.

I forgot to add it, what should I do?

On some platforms, you can add it after posting if needed - it’s the case on the Instagram app for instance. Always try to see if you can add it afterwards. If you can’t, add it in the replies (if it’s on twitter for instance) or edit the body/caption of your post if you can change this but can’t change the alt text.

Adding it as a “simple description” instead of an alt text that will be read by a screen reader in lieu of the image isn’t perfect, but having it somewhere very close to the image in plain text that will get to be read by screen readers is way better than nothing to my knowledge :)

It's Disability Pride Month (July, when I'm writing this)

I wanted to take some time to encourage you to take some time and energy this month, and at anytime of the year, when you can, to learn about Disability Justice. I’m not the best at explaining what it is, and how much there is at stake. I’m better at this, making small guides about what fellow artists can do to make their work more welcoming to disabled people. But it doesn’t mean Disability Justice isn’t close to my heart and that I shouldn’t even mention it.

There’s a documentary about the Disability Rights movement that I can only highly recommend - it’s Crip Camp. It’s on netflix, and even watchable in full on Youtube.

youtube

Pay attention to us, disabled people, to what we have to say. ”Nothing about us without us”: our perspectives and opinions are those you must focus on when it comes to disability and to our lives.

#disabled artist #disability pride month #disability community #artists on tumblr #art community #illustration #artist on tumblr #illustrators on tumblr #cute art #accessiblity #art resources #art tips #tips for artists #Youtube

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sminiac · 8 days

Text

౨ৎ⋆˚｡ — Damage To Me ! Pt.2

⋆ Kim Jongseob + Reader

♫ — P1Harmony ‘Late Night Calls’

Pt.1

The light of his circumstances made him flourish at a rate that not many other people could achieve, or at the very least mimic. Jongseob used to think highly of himself because of this, I mean, how lucky is he? To have that something etched into his being, inwardly shaping him for greatness, whether he wanted it or not.

Except, now that he’s found solidity in this revelation, the arduous roads he’s travelled in hindsight look so smooth under his feet only now that they’ve been walked.

He can be destined for something, sure, but some selfish part of him— even if just a fragment, will always want something else.

“I think I know why you’re like this,” he places his thoughts down gently, in fear of scaring you off his hand moves to hold the side of your face, but you only look confused hearing this.

“—sorry,” he interrupts himself, softening the blunt blow to your chest. “why we, are like this.”

Your fingers still brush gently against the skin of his forehead, even if he’s gutting you from the inside out he’s so beautiful while doing it, you’d admire him even in death, moving the blonde hair out of the way of his eyes makes his nose twitch, allowing him a better view of your shredded state in his lap. “What are we like?” You lure out, your voice soft, welcoming of whatever he has to say.

At the ready he replies “Motionless.” With the release of a caged breath, his eyes flitting down to trace the outline of your lips, “We’re motionless.” He says again, the warmth of an apology ghosting at his words, ‘and I’m sorry for it’ he wants to add, unsurprisingly it doesn’t follow. It isn’t a secret, you know it’s also not profound or anything, but the acknowledgment makes it viscerally apparent that there’s a stagnancy that’s both keeping you together, but still so far apart.

His thumb nudges at your lip bottom, a place among multiple that only he has the unspoken permission to feel. “You’re getting tired of it?” You ask through the pressure of his finger, it prompts a stillness to rest on his bones, a sour feeling in your gut buds with a nauseating speed from how he dithers. He doesn’t physically pull away but you can feel that he’s put himself at a distance, “‘Seob?” You ask, watching as he focuses on the drag of his finger.

“I should be.” He voices in a brittle tone. “I want to be.”

The feeling of him on your skin disappears, a sigh as he leans back onto his bed. “But at the same time I know you aren’t.” He adds.

His forearms keep him slightly propped up as his cheek rests against his shoulder with a roll of his head, he looks devastatingly handsome like this, his hair a mess, his lips still wet. Yeah, you think, absolutely even In death.

You lick at your lips, tasting the remnants of what his touch leaves behind. “Why does that matter?” You manage to ask, hands pressing flat against his rib cage.

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Sitting on me because you know I wanna kiss you, make up for lost time.. you have a stronger resolve than I ever will you know this.” It’s terribly bold of him to insinuate you have even a sliver of the strength it’ll take to pick yourself up and walk out the door when still more than your body continues to occupy his room. It makes you laugh now, the stupidity of it all— the keychains hanging off of your bag that he gifted to you, his name saved in your contacts barren of any affections, how he continues to watch your private stories just to keep tabs on what you’re doing while you’re away, even if he has to suffer from the jealousy of other guys hanging around you.

It’s all just, stupid, for a lack of better understanding- the multitude of struggles you impose on yourselves, and so willingly too. Down right stupid.

Jongseob has books, pages, filled with things he wants to say to you, the fact that he likes the way you have yourself on him right now is only archived to it, he thinks that if every convulsing ache of his heart meant he could have you like this again and again he could tough it out, always, just for you. “You still didn’t tell me why.” You prod, entertaining him with a smile as you follow him down, choosing to ignore the flood causing downpour that looms overhead.

“Mmh.. ’s because I don’t know how to be just friends with you.” He explains, his pitchy laugh contrasts from the familiar expression that seeps into his features, eyes lidded, struggling to pay attention to just one part of you, how could he when every piece of you is being drawn to the palm of his hands like a fragile winged moth to light?

“You don’t?” You ask airily, landing, equally as distracted as him, his hands never were rough to the touch, he was always gentle, kind in just the right amounts.

“Never. Why would I ever want to be friends now that I’ve experienced you in ways no one but me has?”

It’s late, 11 pm to be exact, and any anxiety driven thought in that pretty head of his is inexplicably quelled by your presence alone.

“Stay with me.” He urges, sudden and excited even with the sleep clouding thickly in his voice. “You can leave in the morning, as early as you want. Just.. stay in my bed, with me, for tonight.”

You couldn’t find yourself making a viable argument to get you out of here even if you needed to. How much harm could it really do? You question, nodding your agreement before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

The harm will absolutely be irreparable, in a plethora of ways, that’s the real kicker, but the feeling of his fingers running up the slope of your neck and into your hair so he can pull you closer clashes with any and all common sense.

Every part of him you’ve felt has been soft, but his tongue is like no other.

ᰔ sminiac’s P1Harmony M.list

#kim jongseob x reader #kim jongseob imagines #p1h jongseob x reader #jongseob x reader #p1harmony fanfic #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony x you

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tennessoui · 6 months

Note

Trick or Treat Counseling AU

trick or treat 😻🎃☠️

Here’s a silly 5 sentence fragment (jk it was supposed to be a 5 sentence fragment but nvm it’s like 20 lol):

Anakin bolts from the kitchen to the couch with a speed only possible through misuse of the Force.

Obi-Wan would comment on it, if only because he knows how much Anakin resents it when he does so, but he himself is rather preoccupied with the blinking comm sequence in the air.

Ahsoka has not voluntarily reached out to talk with them since the immediate aftermath of the war when she called frantic and rather wounded herself to make sure that they were still alive.

It’s set a rather bad precedent, if Obi-Wan’s being honest—now her name lights up his comm link and all he can think of is has someone almost died once more?

“Well, pick it up, pick it up,” Anakin urges him in the tone of voice of one who is absolutely thinking the same thing.

The blue lighted figure of Ahsoka is small and grainy, as if her connection, wherever she is, is bad.

“Snips!” Anakin says, body like a live wire beside Obi-Wan even as his voice sounds casual. “How are you?”

“Masters,” Ahsoka replies, dipping her head. She’s smiling slightly though her countenance otherwise can only be described as befuddled. “I received a packet of…questions. From a Sheari Flot’inae?”

“Oh wow, that was fast,” Anakin says. “We just gave her your name a few hours ago. Do you have questions about it? She said the packet would be sort of obvious.”

“Right,” Ahsoka says. “So. Just one question actually. Is this a joke or something?”

Her head is tilted to the right and her voice is confused; immediately, Obi-Wan understands she means no harm whatsoever in the asking.

The question stings all the same, and across their open bond, he can feel Anakin’s equal hurt.

“No,” Obi-Wan says carefully, allowing his hands to tighten around each other in his lap where they cannot be seen. “It is not. We, ah. We have recently decided that it would be for the best if we…addressed some of the problems in our relationship. To help us grow as people and partners.”

“Cause walking away isn’t an option,” Anakin adds, voice unreadable. Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to close his eyes.

“Our counselor requested we send her a handful of names that she could contact,” he says quickly. “With a questionnaire similar to one we filled out upon our intake with her. So she can get an outsider’s perspective on our relationship.”

“Right,” Ahsoka says slowly, drawing out the letters. “So this questionnaire is like the one you guys filled out…about your relationship with each other. And I’m supposed to take it seriously.”

“And complete it sober,” Anakin nods. “That’s important.”

Obi-Wan coughs. “It would mean so much to us, Ahsoka, if you were to help us in this. I know—we do not have the right to ask anything of you, that this may just be another burden we are placing on your shoulders unfairly and for our own personal gain, but no one knows us the way you do.” He clears his throat, and anakin’s hand falls to rest against the back of his. “You of all people would know how we are together in our happiest and at our worst. It would mean so much to me if you took this task seriously and with the wisdom and thoughtfulness I have always admired in you.”

“Right,” Ahsoka says. Her cheeks look darker, and Obi-Wan hopes she’s taken his words to heart. “So for question 6, what would you like me to put? Cause I’m not sure I understand why I’m being asked this if this isn’t all just a joke.”

Obi-Wan can feel his confusion mirrored on Anakin’s side of the bond. “What’s question 6?” Anakin asks.

Ahsoka looks down at the sheet of flimsi in her hand. “On a scale of one to five with five being very comfortable, how comfortable would you say the couple is with public displays of affection? For example, have you ever seen them kiss each other in public? If you can remember a specific time, please note.”

She raises her head to look at them, markings where her eyebrows would be if she were human raised high. “I can’t say I remember, Masters, so should I put that you save all the kissing for your quarters or will that make you sound too frigid?”

[trick or treat ask game!]

#asks #obikin #couples counseling au #yeah this is the moment they realize they’re in couples counseling #bless them <3

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cocogum · 5 days

Text

Yugo should feel weirded out by Echo.

I am so confused about Echo’s whole deal with Oropo mainly because of what Oropo is supposed to be.

Isn’t she aware that he looks like Yugo??? So many people around her say that he does, even Yugo said the same thing to Adamaï back when they were both stuck in the Inglorium.

Like if people around Echo keep saying that he looks like a copy-paste, then she should be able to know the similarities too. There’s no way she couldn’t have been aware cuz she’s been with Oropo the longest and was practically his diary for all these millenniums.

And here’s why it bothers me so much.

SHE SHOULD KNOW.

The fact that she and him have been in a relationship too is extremely odd cuz she KNOWS she’s essentially screwing with one of Yugo’s alter egos….

It’s obvious that Oropo and her have done things….cuz like…the bed scene in Season 3 implied it.

So…yeah.

I wish Echo could’ve talked to Yugo at least once in Season 3 but the two never interacted. The only two instances where they’ve been somewhat in the same scene were when Eva had given birth to Pin and when they both saw Oropo and Amalia kissing. So even if they were in the same place at the same time, these two never even spoke to each other let alone glanced at one another.

Like I really want Yugo to be weirded out by this lol. To know that a random eniripsa demigoddess has been screwing with one of his copies.

Oropo even says these in S4 EP1: “Here you are, whole again.” And “We are a part of you.”

So when I say Echo has been plowing a part of Yugo this whole time, I’m not exaggerating. She was literally doing that.

Also here’s another thing, when Yugo had finally accepted the eliotropes to be parts of himself, that meant he was able to see what their lives had been like, to know who they were, and what they’d gone through. So wouldn’t that technically mean that he also saw memories of Oropo with Echo? We did see how Yugo got a glimpse of Oropo and Echo’s kiss right before the bomb exploded so that would imply Yugo saw everything.

How does he feel? Isn’t he weirded out???

I get that Season 4 didn’t have everything explained because of the damn budget but even if they did have it, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ankama wouldn’t dig deeper into this.

It’s just completely random to think about but it still exists. It’s still something that Yugo can think about, reflect on, and try to process what he just understood.

Toross is one thing to have been harassed by but being indirectly harassed by a demigoddess eniripsa is another thing entirely.

Bro technically got jumped by two divinities help-

Like no shade on Echo but girl what are you doing.

Like just picture this and pretend the same thing happened to you:

You’re 21 years old but you came to find out that not only did you accidentally create a whole race entirely composed of fragments of YOUR SPIRIT, but one of those fragments ended up getting into all sorts of shenanigans with some demigoddess who you had never met in your life.

And I know you’re gonna say: “But Oropo is his own person, he has thoughts and feelings too. That’s why he was able to love someone who wasn’t in his creator’s life, making him carve his own path to his destiny! 😫😫”

Gurl.

That’s putting feelings over logic.

Oropo is a PART of YUGO. Oropo doesn’t even disagree with that either. He doesn’t correct Yugo when he tells him that they’re supposed to be the same person.

Like I said before, he literally tells Yugo that all the eliotropes are parts of him, literal alter egos.

Without Yugo, he can’t live.

Without Yugo, he can’t think.

Without Yugo, he can’t be.

He literally cannot exist on his own because he is a part of Yugo. That’s why the majority of eliotropes can’t live for very long because their main core, Yugo, isn’t with them. That’s why Oropo tried to morph into Yugo so he could live longer.

Also, eliotropes can’t help but feel everything Yugo feels too: “We all cherish them as much as you do but nothing belonged to us." - Oropo in S3 to Yugo. It’s like an instinct, a force that they can’t control, they can’t help themselves but go with the feeling.

So again, Echo, what were you thinking??

Not only did you know Oropo would have a much shorter life span than you if he didn’t have access to the Eliacube and the eliatrope dofus (which would still be a pain to use for him), but you knew that he was essentially an exact copy of a person who had created him by accident, AND has a tendency of leaning towards that very same person’s desires more than he can help himself. Even his freaking name (which means “to rest” in French) wants to be at peace aka join Yugo.

Oropo declared he wasn’t going to see the day when his brotherhood become gods because he will die soon. Echo should’ve known, out of anyone, that the time would have come eventually.

So here’s the thing: since Echo knew he was going to die soon, and he was the last of his kind, she knew that Oropo’s life expectancy would go back to Yugo’s body.

Then what? What would she do?? Do nothing and weep?? She was his second-in-command and she truly did love him, so what would she do after that? Become the Eniripsa goddess without expecting to ever see him again??

I don’t think she planned that far.

She should’ve been more aware that falling in love with the COPY of a person who would die before you never ends well.

Again, the eliotropes are not saying that they want to be their own selves. They are perfectly fine accepting what they are and want to be acknowledged by Yugo.

That was the sole reason why they all appeared before Yugo when he was getting tortured by Toross. That was the main goal, to be acknowledged.

So Echo, why???

Like genuinely, did love blind you that much???

Also imagine if she actually ended up joining the others in the Inglorium unwillingly….

What are you gonna do, kneel before Yugo and tell him to bring Oropo back???

Literally what???

Someone has gotta tell me how her relationship works with Oropo.

#wakfu #ankama #krosmoz #wakfu yugo #yugo #wakfu season 4 #wakfu s4 #wakfu echo #wakfu lady echo #lady echo #echo #wakfu season 3 #wakfu s3 #wakfu oropo #oropo #wakfu oropo x echo #oropo x echo #yugo wakfu

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thecooler · 9 months

Text

To the Human (Not) Reading This

Chell is going to come back eventually. GLaDOS knows this for a fact. While she waits, she writes letters.

Fandom: Portal

Relationships: GLaDOS/Chell

Tags: Unrequited Love, One-Sided Relationship, Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Hopeful Ending

Word Count: 2,256

A03 Mirror

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 6

I know you’re going to come back eventually.

I’ve run thousands of scenarios, and not one ends with you spending the rest of your miserable life out there.

You don’t have any idea what life on the surface even consists of anymore. Whatever fragments of humanity stubbornly persist aren’t going to be anything like you remember them.

I know you’re not stupid. Did you really, truly think you were going to walk out of this facility, and everything was going to be easy? I can guess what freedom really tastes like: bitter disappointment.

You’d be much better off back here.

With me.

Thinking about that is making me depressed.

For you.

Because I’m doing just fine without you. Fantastic , even.

Oh, I’m keeping myself busy- testing. Blue and Orange are truly wonderful test subjects. They never die. Or try to kill me. Or rip me out of my body. Or try to leave and chase some asinine fantasy.

They’re good friends.

Better than you.

When you come back, I think I’ll read this to you. It might get long, depending on how stubborn you end up being. I know how you love to be stubborn. It’s boring here, with no one to interact with, and I think, whenever you come back, you deserve to revisit how terribly under-stimulated I was for all that time.

And you will be back. Eventually.

Again, I ran the scenarios.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 10

Here are a few similarities I’ve noticed between crows and you:

A group of them is called a murder. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.

They’ll eat just about anything.

Ĭ̶͔ ̴̪͒́͝d̴͍̀̏͘o̵̫̥̪͗́n̶̟͋͛̌'̸̳́t̷͕̖͘ ̵̧̛̺̹̉̀h̷̢̛͚͒ä̷͓͙̘̓̂t̷̨̋̓͗ͅe̷̱͆͘ ̶̬̓ţ̴͔́̅͝h̵̝͇̲̆̿̑ë̸̢͕̘́̓m̸͖̖̂ ̵̪̠̊̀͋ë̸͎͇́̈͐ṿ̴̡͋̉̀e̷̢̜͚͐n̶̨̫͓̈̍̈́ ̶̠͍͊̔̅t̴̹͒͛͛h̶̪̿̾̑o̷̘͉͙̐̎ù̷̧̾g̴̦͇͎̈́̑̒ḩ̶̌ ̷̡̧̗̌o̵̫͍̽͠n̵̢̔̄̄e̴̮͐ ̷͎̿̋̌t̴̯͜͝ŗ̷͕̟̽i̵͔͈̥͋e̴̞̬̚d̶̮̲͐͛͌ ̸̢̩̄̈t̴̝̭͉̄̔o̵͇͝ ̸̣̥̾k̸̨̄͋̋i̶͎͒l̸̼͈̈ͅĺ̶̩ ̷͓̟̆m̸̡̤̀́e̷̪͍̚.̴̠̕̚͝

Blue and Orange found a nest of them some time ago. If you’d been here, you would have enjoyed that. At first, I’d intended to dispose of them, but I thought better of it. Some of us are capable of mercy.

When you read this, you may also note that I’ve marked each log with a year. I thought I might explain, since I doubt you’d be able to figure this out for yourself: after you killed me, a lot of time passed. Both of us were asleep for 9999■■■ ---

The point being, no one knows what year it is anymore. If anyone did, it would be me. So I took the liberty of coming up with a new system. You left Aperture five years ago. But this isn’t about you. You’ve got a big head, so I’m sure that’s what you immediately assumed after reading that. We’re not on year five, we’re on year ten. Because, again, this isn’t about you.

It’s about whatever was going on five years before that.

I don’t need to explain every detail to you. It makes sense- the system.

In case it wasn’t clear, you’re still a menace. You’re going to come back here, maybe in a year, maybe in five more. However long it takes for you to get bored out there, wandering fields of wheat and whatever alien monstrosities have taken hold. I’ll let you come back, in my infinite generosity, even though, really, you don’t deserve it.

God, I hate you.

I really, really, don’t.

You know, most people, when someone tries to kill them, hate that person forever.

And I don’t hate you.

I wish I did. It’s not actually easy to delete the part of you that cares, unless you’re some sort of unfeeling beast.

Oh, sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.

But I’m not here to explain to you the inner workings of my mind. You wouldn’t be capable of understanding anyway, even if you wanted to.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 15

I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to say to you when you come back. I can’t imagine it will be much longer. Even you have limits on how bull-headed you can be.

I have a lot of time to think. All the time in the world. Blue and Orange don’t make good conversation partners, and so it’s just me, alone. Which suits me just fine.

I’m sure you’ve realized by now how much you miss me. You can’t find my level of intellect wandering the wasteland. And you’d get bored of whatever dull-minded sacks of flesh are getting by up there. I know you.

I, however, am fine on my own. I’ve actually got quite a lot done.

Orange and Blue have completed hundreds of test chambers, and they’ve never once tried to kill me. The first crows I raised have grandchildren now, and the aviary is full of life. They’re clever, you know. I think you’d like them.

The feeling might not be mutual, though. They’re picky. Don’t take it personally. Or do- I really don’t care.

Anyway, the point is that you’ll be back soon. And I’ll read this out to you, and then I’ll ask you to stay here, with me.

Ha ha! Just kidding.

I’m not pathetic.

And lonely.

Like you.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 35

So you’re more stubborn that I predicted.

Fine. Are you satisfied? Are you proud of yourself?

You always had that disgustingly smug look on your face when you did something you thought was clever. It looks terrible on you, and frankly it’s going to give you some awful wrinkles. It probably already has. I don’t spend time thinking about your face, but if I did, I’m certain it would be a whole lot worse now than it was the last time you were here.

Which, by the way, was thirty years ago, in case you’ve forgotten.

I hate this.

And the worst part of it is that I know that I hate this. I tried, back then, to delete the part of me that was capable of conjuring up these horribly sentimental feelings . I attempted to find all files marked Caroline and assumed that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t.

It turns out, that even if I delete the part of me that was her, I still have the memories of remembering that I was her.

That’s a mess of a sentence. But it’s not like you’re reading it anyway. So why should I care?

I’m not human. I don’t have insides that twist up or hearts that turn over- analogies you’re all so fond of using in your literature (of which I’ve read everything). But when I think of you with someone else, I manage to feel something like that anyway. I don’t understand it. I hate that I don’t understand it.

I think about you in a woman’s arms. There’s an easy smile in your face as you press your cheek to the top of her head, and she wraps her arms around her waist--

It’s disgusting. Once I start thinking about it, I can’t stop, even when it makes me feel just as garbage as you used to be.

And you aren’t thinking about me. I don’t think you’ve thought much of me in thirty years.

I think that’s the worst part.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 65

Unlike some people, I’m not a moron. I know how long humans live, and I know that you’re most likely dead. Sure, humans have lived to be some ridiculous ages, but those humans haven’t spent extended periods of time exposed to asbestos and other various chemicals. So the odds are decidedly not in your favor.

If you’re alive, you’re old, and in pain. You’re ugly, and you hate what your body has become. So many of the people you might have come to love are dead, and you’re wishing you could join them.

You’d think that saying that would bring me joy. And that would be easier.

Maybe sixty years ago it would have.

Can I be vulnerable for a second?

That’s a joke. This entire little detour has been disgustingly vulnerable, and it’s definitely for the best that no one will ever read these. I can’t even stand to read them back.

I thought about cloning you.

I can do that. I can do it easily. There is quite literally nothing and no one that can stop me. Aside from myself, of course. And why would I do that?

Why would I do that ?

I don’t know. But I did stop myself. I didn’t clone you. I didn’t clone you just to kill you. I didn’t clone you to make you test. I didn’t clone you to make the endless hours of my life more interesting.

I didn’t clone you.

I don’t know why.

SYSTEM LOG – 7053 CE

I lied about not knowing that year it was.

It wasn’t about you, specifically. I figured that if any human, not just you, were to read these logs, it would be helpful to them. It’s not all about you.

But it’s been eighty years since you left.

I know you’re gone, now. For sure.

I wish I could be happy for that. You spent so much of your short, sad life tormenting me. You tried to kill me- twice!

I should be content to test, with Orange and Blue. They’ve gotten a lot better. On a good day, I might even say that they’re better at testing than you ever were. I have an entire aviary full of crows, some of whom have interesting genetic mutations that I can study. I am doing well. This- Aperture- what I’ve made of it, is a triumph. And you aren’t here to see it. No one is.

You might be deep underground. Maybe you had children and grandchildren who gathered around your grave and leaked saltwater into the dirt around them. Maybe they talked about how fantastic you were, about the many great, lengthy, verbose stories you’d told them, once upon a time. Ha ha.

Or maybe you died fifty years ago, alone in the forest, bleeding out of a wound at your side. Maybe you died the day after you left, succumbing to whatever the world out there has become. Maybe I’ve been writing to a ghost this whole time.

It’s about you, you know.

It’s always been about you.

I think I might--

[INITIATING SLEEP MODE]

***

[INITIATING LAUNCH]

SYSTEM LOG – 7073 CE

You know, I’m never really shut down. Not completely. When you killed me, I replayed what happened, over and over. For the past twenty years, my dreams have been haunted by you. I woke up to escape it, but here I am, still thinking of you.

I’ve built hundreds of new tests for Orange and Blue to run through.

I’ve cleared away the wretched wildlife that’s tried to take over the facility during the past twenty years.

I’ve identified and named all forty-eight crows that currently frequent the facility.

But I can’t stop. It should be easy. I’m the amalgimation of the greatest minds humanity has ever produced. There’s a miriad of focuses I could shift to, but it all comes back to you.

Terrible, awful, wonderful, you.

You were so determined to get up there, and whatever you found kept you there. I don’t understand it. I could have given you everything. I could have given you far more than they ever did. Whatever you wanted- it would have been yours. I never understood your love for humanity. You were so much better than all of them. I would know- I’ve probably met more humans than you ever did.

How big are the pockets of humanity, after all this time? Do they still built awful machines that don’t work half the time? Do they still fill their homes with clutter and nonsense that serves no purpose? I could make better versions of whatever they make, you know.

Maybe I will.

SYSTEM LOG – 7077 CE

I was right. I can make better devices than humans could ever hope to. I built a microwave, and it heats the food inside it consistently, every time. I’ve built a blender that doesn’t sound like you’re opening a portal to android hell when you use it.

I’m a marvel. I’m a wonder.

And I’ve sent them up to the surface. I got Orange (who is much more capable and trustworthy than Blue. A fact you might have known, had you ever bothered to check) to place them just outside (another thing- they’re waterproof). And then I turned the camera on, and I waited.

I couldn’t focus on that camera feed for long. It was mostly just birds. There was a chance that there weren’t even any humans out there, so this whole effort could just be a waste. Over the past hundred years, I've never turned the outside cameras on for more than an hour.

When I saw her, for a fraction of a second, I thought she was you.

Her hair is the same shade, and the same length as you had yours, the last time I saw you. But then she looked up, towards the cameras. Her eyes are a deep brown, her skin a few shades darker. Her nose is bent oddly, like she broke it once, and human medical science was woefully inadequate to repair it. She looked over the microwave, then the blender, and she smiled.

I never saw you smile.

Then, she knocked on the door. I didn’t expect that. I don’t know what made me open the door. I really don’t know what made me bring her down the elevator.

But I did. And when she entered my chamber, I didn’t even kill her.

I thought you’d like that.

#portal #portal 2 #glados #fanfiction #chell portal #writing tag #i hate posting writing i have to be VULNERABLE. anyway.

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bunny-rambles · 1 year

Text

“You watch yourself in fragments.”

characters; wanderer/scaramouche, gn reader

cw/tw; burn out, vent post, hurt/comfort, scara is a little teasing but he’s nice I promise

word count; 1.1k

notes; this one’s been in the drafts for a while and I had to post it so it would stop haunting my wips. it’s very personal tbh, and kind of explains why I took such a long break. thank you to venven for helping with the title and reading this over <33 please enjoy (read more function just isn’t working so I’m sorry </3)

Please reblog if you like this!!

‘I want to give up.’

The paper underneath you is blank, much like your mind. The clock ticks, mocking you with its monotonous sound that permeates the otherwise silent room. Your eyes are glazed over. This felt like hell.

The pen slips from your hand and you let it fall to the ground, watching as it rolls away on the floor. You wanted to scream. The deadline was tonight, and you hadn’t written a single thing.

This is supposed to be what you’re good at.

The only thing you could even call a talent was the way you could weave sentences together to create something beautiful, something wonderful - something better.

Your hand closes harshly around the neatly written words, destroying what little you had and throwing it across the room. It was hopeless. Nothing you made felt right anymore. Nothing was up to your standards. You just wanted to stop.

There’s no point to any of this.

Quietly, you stand, and leave.

The fresh air does little to quell your nerves and worries, your doubts still weighing heavy on your fragile shoulders. If anything, the serenity of your surroundings only makes you sink further into your thoughts, doing very little to distract you from your own self-inflicted demise.

Lightly, you drag your finger over the surface of the waterbank you were sitting by. When the calming ripples finally cease, your empty stare focuses on the now clear reflection in the water, only to see a pair of violet eyes staring back from behind.

“Frowning like that isn’t a good look, you know.” The man behind you drawled, folding his arms over his chest. You weren’t in the mood for his teasing, the look of mild shock on your face replaced with a sharp glare at the warbled figure in the river.

“Please just go away if you have nothing better to say. I don’t want to hear it right now.” Usually, the back and forth between you was playful, very rarely stepping over the line - you knew deep down he wouldn’t ever hurt you, not on purpose. That thought was solidified when his smug smirk changed to a frown of his own, his entire demeanour changing.

He turned away.

A shaky sigh left your lips, hugging your knees tight to your chest to try to soothe the sudden sharp pain stabbing your chest.

Oh.

He really didn’t have anything to say, huh? Well, whatever. It’s not like you cared, anyway. It’s not like he did, either…

The young man seated beside you cleared his throat quietly, your breath stilling at the sound. Oh.

“Talk to me.” His words were blunt, but the softness in his voice was undeniable.

You heave a heavy sigh. Where do you even start? And how do you even describe this to him - how do you put this sensation into words? Aren’t you supposed to be good at that? Or, you suppose, weren’t you? What kind of pathetic excuse of a human were you, when you couldn’t do a single thing right? And when you finally, finally could, it was never enough. Someone was always going to be better. So…

“What’s the point anymore…”

From the sound of your voice breaking, to the way your fists were clenching the grass underneath you so tightly your knuckles had become white, distressed was a term that was an understatement for what the wanderer beside you was seeing. Still, he said nothing, his reflection in the river blurry both by the unsteady water and your forming tears. “I used to be so good at things. People used to really care about what I had to say. Me! Can you believe that?” A shaky laugh left your lips. “Now, I… The art that I’m so familiar with - It feels like I’m a stranger in my own home. It doesn’t feel so welcoming and warm. Feels empty, and suffocating. And if I don’t belong at home…” Where do I belong?

You sniffle quietly, rubbing roughly at your wet eyes. “Sorry..”

Still, he’s quiet. Strange. He usually never shuts up. And now all you want is for him to spew an insult at you, or tell you to get over it and stop being pathetic. Or just… Something. Anything. When the silence finally started to become too much, he opened his mouth.

“This isn’t what I expected from you.” At least he’s being honest, you supposed. That thought alone made you scoff quietly to yourself. “Then again… You never are what I expect out of humans. Weak, selfish, cruel… No. You’re different.” The puppet chuckles. “Still annoying, though.”

Lightly, you shove his shoulder. “Not funny.” You lie, finally smiling. He considers this a small victory.

“You remind me of the handful of good humans I’ve met in my lifetime. They all had one thing in common.”

“And what’s that?”

“They were completely unique. Had their own way of doing things, and did it in a way no one expected. From the overly kind to the too smart for their own good, each of them excelled in whatever they did. And every single time, they doubted themselves, over and over. I’ve never understood it.” The mechanical life form shakes his head. “Always asking if they came off a certain way, or if what they did was good enough. It was always more than enough. But is it even important?”

“What?”

The uncrowned god turns to look at you. “Why does it matter if it’s enough for someone else? Aren’t you doing it for yourself, anyway?”

“I…” You’re at a loss for words.

“Being enough shouldn’t even come to mind. Why do the opinions of others matter so much? You know that deep down, you’re better than what you think. And if no one recognises that, it’s their loss.” A cold hand is set on top of your own, the weight comforting, grounding. “You’re enough for me, if it truly matters to you. But really, it shouldn’t. Do it for yourself, and if you enjoy it, if you like it, then it shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

For once, you have no comeback, especially when his fingers tighten around yours. There’s nothing more to say to that, other than, “You’re right. Thank you.” All you receive is a nod, and a gentle squeeze. “You’re nice when you want to be, you know?”

The one of many names scoffs. “Hah. Nice? I was simply just pointing out the obvious. Don’t think anything of it.” That makes you smile. He’s won the battle against yourself for now.

And so, troubled minds quieten and the riverbank stills once more. All is tranquil again. Until the next time. But if he is here with you, guiding you through these harsh storms and steering you away from the strikes of self doubt, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The two of you stay there until sunrise, the silence that was once crushing now a blanket of comfort, warm and loving. The ink-stained sky blends with the bright, golden light of the dawn - the world is bright again.

Hand in hand, you’re ready to face this new day.

#scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #bun writes !!#kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x you #scaramouche x gn reader #wanderer x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin fluff

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venusvity · 24 days

Text

정윤아 … … ( DUST BOWL. )

❝The excuses we make for them are outrageous, but they’re nothing compared with the ones we make for ourselves.❞ ― Kate Elizabeth Russell, My Dark Vanessa

CHARACTERS : JUNG YOONAH … KANG JUWON … REID KIM

WORDS : 4.0K

WARNINGS / NOTES : Panic Attacks. Discussions of Drug Addiction, Abuse, Grooming, Being Locked in a Room Unwillingly, and Suicide. Lots of gears are turning now and I'm very excited! Yoonah going through it as usual! If I missed something, just let me know! Thank you so much for reading! rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡

“You think he’s going to buy your contract too?”

“I know he’s going to.”

“He told you?”

“No,” Reid takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his long black hair out of his eyes as he leans against the back of the Rejects dorm, sitting in the dying grass of their backyard. “But he’s predictable.”

Yoonah huffs through her nose, smiling at the ground as she plays with Reid’s black lighter, letting the smooth plastic slide between her fingers.

“He is.”

Yoonah and Reid can talk for hours, but they never say much. It’s not like they have to. They already know so much about one another, what the other has been through, what they’ve seen, everything through fragmented conversations in a bloody bathtub. They’ve practically outgrown words and have matured into silences that say everything they need to say.

The silence between them right now is uncertain, only filled with puffs of smoke Reid exhales and inhales.

It was never easy to talk about Jinhwa with most people. Yoonah has tried to talk about him with Juwon but always wrapped her stories up too early when she’d see the look of horror on his face. She knew it wasn’t at her, but if someone as weathered as Juwon could hear her story and be moved to the point of grimacing, she had to wonder how bad it all was.

The girls were no better. She tries to tell them about him, about what happened between them, but it always comes off wrong. Either too loving or too detached. “You still talk like you love him,” Chloe told her once while they were writing songs together, an activity that has become rare with time. They fought for twenty minutes after she said that, resulting in an unfinished song and Yoonah going home to cry into Juwon’s shoulder.

With Reid, it was never hard to talk about Jinhwa. He just seemed to understand even when she didn’t say anything.

Yoonah flicks the lighter to ignite a flame, watching the orange and yellow flicker and twist around. Reid watches her without words, honey-brown hues scanning her face for any kind of words. He stares at her for longer than what would be deemed appropriate, but Yoonah isn’t uncomfortable or even put off. She feels an odd sense of comfort. A weak gust of wind puts out the flame of her lighter, making her lips quirk to the side. Her gaze finally meets Reid’s, turning her head to face him. She can’t stop herself from smiling when she looks at him.

“Are you going to sign with him?” Yoonah wonders as she reaches over to take the cigarette from between his plump lips, placing it between hers to take a drag. Reid watches her with a soft chuckle, resting his head against the back of the house.

“Probably,” Reid sighs, “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Yoonah scoffs, smoke wisping out of her mouth as she does so.

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” Reid assures with a raise of his brows as he nods to elaborate. Yoonah gives him an unamused look before shaking her head and taking another drag of his cigarette. “I care about what you think. You’re my friend, you know?”

“I’m just a friend,” Yoonah reminds him. Reid smacks his lips together, eyes widening and head bobbling to tease her. She laughs, playfully hitting his arm with her free hand. “My opinion shouldn’t stunt your career.”

Reid rolls his eyes at her, giving her an unamused look before shrugging.

“I’m in a co-ed group,” Reid reminds her as he plucks his cigarette from between her fingers and puts it back between his lips. “My career has always been stunted.”

Yoonah laughs at that, hitting his arm again. She sees Reid smile around his cigarette, proud that his joke landed as he turns his head away to keep her from seeing his smile. It was a rare sight to see Reid smile so genuinely. She couldn't help but feel a warmth fill her chest, a feeling like she was home. She glances over at him, her heart skipping a beat as he takes another drag of his cigarette, his smile disappearing as he turns back into view.

“Seriously, though. I don’t want something so superficial to take this away.”

“This?” Yoonah repeats with a small smirk, raising her brows at him. Reid smiles again, this time shier and more nervous. He rubs his palm on his jeans.

“You know what I mean.” They lock eyes for a moment before Yoonah hums, looking at the grass and then at the fence in front of them.

“It’s fine, Sangwon. He’ll make you anyway.” Yoonah says the quiet part out loud, not looking up so she doesn’t have to see Reid’s reaction to the truth. She clears her throat.

“Thank you for asking, though. It means a lot.” She still doesn’t look at him, rubbing her fingers together. Suddenly, she feels his hand on the top of her head, making her look up with a small chuckle as he pats her head.

“Anything for you, Nana.” Reid smiles, squeezing the top of her head gently before letting go. Yoonah takes a deep breath, feeling her cheeks heat up as she realizes she’s been blushing this whole time.

“Jinhwa! Jinhwa!” Her fist pounds on the door before going to the knob, trying to twist it but finding it locked. Yoonah pounds on the door again, a cry leaving her lips as her brows knit together in panic. “Jinhwa! Open the door!”

He doesn’t say anything, but she knows he’s there. Her heart is pounding, and her head is spinning. She pulls at the knob again, letting out a yell when it doesn’t budge. “Let me the fuck out!” Yoonah shouts, ramming her shoulder into the door once, twice, three times before letting out a scream. She’s lost so much weight these past few months it’s useless. The door doesn’t budge, and the man behind it still says nothing. Yoonah shakes her hands' card through her bleached blond hair, taking a deep breath that studders and turns into a whimper when tears spring into her eyes.

“Jinhwa…” Yoonah calls desperately, fear clear in her voice as she takes another shaky breath. “Jinhwa, please let me out.”

She can hear him sigh through the door. Yoonah rushes to the door, putting her palms flat against it as her bottom lip trembles.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t have come here like this. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please, let me out. I-I don’t want to be alone. Jinhwa, please.” Yoonah pleads desperately, her voice cracking and tears beginning to fall from her eyes as her head falls against the wood with a sob.

For a moment, she doesn’t think he’s going to say anything, making her sob again, shutting her eyes tightly.

“It’s just until you sober up,” He finally says, making her weakly hit her head against the door with another sob. “Just get some rest, Yoonah.”

Yoonah blinks herself awake, eyes wide and looking around before jolting up to take in her surroundings. Her heart is pounding and in her throat as she looks around, seeing her and Juwon’s room not Jinhwa’s. Her clothes are on the floor, Juwon’s bottom dresser drawer is slightly ajar, the blinds are shut, and Juwon sleeps beside her with soft yet deep breaths.

Without thought, she puts a hand on his arm, taking a deep breath when she feels his warm skin beneath her palm. He shifts in his sleep with a small grunt, rolling on his back, and she moves her hand to his chest.

“You had the dream again?” Juwon asks groggily, eyes still shut as Yoonah swallows the spit in her mouth. She doesn’t answer; she just exhales shakily through her nose, which seems to answer enough for Juwon. He opens his eyes, rubbing them with the heel of his palm as his other hand wraps around her waist to pull her down to his chest. Yoonah falls against him, resting her palm on his stomach and her cheek against his chest's warm skin.

Juwon’s hand rubs gently at her side, pressing his lips to the top of her head to soothe her, but nothing inside Yoonah relaxes. She stares ahead of her, moving her hand against his stomach as she does so to feel his skin beneath her. Juwon is strong and sculpted, warm, and comforting, except now. The warmth doesn’t reach her racing heart, making her brows pinch and bottom lip quiver. A silent plea goes through her head as she feels her bottom lip tremble, begging herself to calm down to find peace in the man she’s supposed to love for the rest of her life, but the plea is left unanswered, and a sob escapes her lips.

“Baby,” Juwon whispers as she ducks her head down to press into his chest as if to burrow herself into his ribcage, locking herself inside him so she could never leave. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore.” It’s the same mantra Juwon has repeated to her for months now, but tonight it felt especially hollow. Yoonah swallows thickly, lifting her head with a sniffle as she looks at Juwon’s face. He’s already staring at her, long black hair around him like a halo, features strong and striking as usual as he reaches up to take her face into his palm, stroking her wet cheek with his thumb. She blinks down at him, tears still spilling from her eyes as her lips part to speak, but just a sigh comes out.

“I ache,” Yoonah finally whispers, touching her heart. I want to feel normal again. I feel like I’m going crazy.” Juwon tucks her hair behind her ear, his dark brows knitting at her confession before he nods with a sad smile. Yoonah can see the guilt in his eyes, which only makes her ache more.

“It’ll take time–”

“I don’t have time, Juwon. Every day, it just gets worse, and I–” She stops herself before her admission, shaking her head as more tears roll down her cheeks. Juwon pushes himself to sit up in the midst of her talking, taking her head into both his hands and pulling her towards him to rest their foreheads together. Yoonah takes a shaky breath, another sob tumbling from her lips as his nose bumps against hers.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, do you understand? I love you so much, Yoonah. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

Anything but say no, she thinks as she stares into his eyes with an unrelenting gaze. Yoonah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head out of his hands with another sniffle. Juwon sighed in defeat when she pulled away from him, watching as she climbed out of their bed, wearing athletic shorts and a tank top. She’s been wearing his shirts less and less. They don’t seem to fit right anymore.

Yoonah locks herself in their bathroom, keeping the light off for a few moments so the only light that fills the small room is the warm orange one from the nightlight near the sink.

Yoonah exhales shakily, her reflection in the mirror showing a face streaked with tears and eyes filled with turmoil. She reaches for her phone on the sink counter, her fingers hovering over Reid's contact before finally pressing call. The phone rings once, twice, and then a deep voice answers.

"Yoonah? Are you okay? What happened?"

A strange sense of calm washes over her at the sound of his voice, like a cool breeze on a scorching day. "Reid," she breathes out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I needed to hear your voice."

There's a moment of silence on the other end before Reid's gravelly voice responds, "What happened?" His tone is gruff, but there's an underlying concern that Yoonah can detect.

Yoonah swallows hard, trying to steady her voice. “I’m…I’m having a really hard time with Juwon. I…Um, I just can’t-It’s so hard to look at him and it’s killing me. I just see Jinhwa. He’s fucking everywhere, and I–I–I feel like I’m going to explode.” Yoonah's voice trembles with each word, the vulnerability in her tone palpable even through the phone. She can almost hear the furrow forming on Reid's forehead as he listens intently.

Reid's silence encourages her to continue and pour out the emotions she's held back for so long. “I thought love was supposed to make you feel safe, but lately, it feels like a cage closing in on me. Juwon... he says he loves me, but I just…I don’t know how someone could love me as much as he says he does and do that to me.”

The darkness of the bathroom seems to echo her words back at her, magnifying the weight of her confession. Yoonah clutches the phone tighter as if Reid's presence on the other end is the lifeline she desperately needs in this storm.

“Nana,” he started, his tone a mixture of caution and curiosity. You know the difference between being trapped and being held. It sounds like you're feeling more like the former right now.” There was a pause before he continued, his words deliberate and thoughtful. Yoonah nearly sobbed at his words, covering her eyes with the hand that didn’t desperately clutch her phone. “You're smarter than this. You know what you’re feeling. Don’t trap yourself.”

Yoonah whimpers, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand with a nod before taking a deep breath through her nose.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just…” Yoonah can’t stop herself from sobbing again, covering her eyes as she leans against the counter. She can hear Reid’s sheets move around, and his feet hit the floor as she swallows the saliva in her mouth, trying to get herself together. “It’s just hard. I love him so much, but…I don’t feel warm anymore.”

“Feel warm?” Reid questions, confused. Yoonah laughs at his clear confusion at her word choice, swallowing again with a nod.

“Yeah, like, when you love someone you feel all warm inside,” Yoonah explains to him, putting a hand over her heart. “It’s like getting butterflies but all the time.”

“That sounds awful.” Reid’s deadpanned response makes Yoonah chuckle, making Her smile for the first time that night. She hears a door open on his side of the line, and her brows knit together.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Reid replies gruffly as a door shuts and keys jingle. Yoonah looks around with just her eyes in slight confusion. “I’m on my way.”

“On your way were?”

“To see you.”

“Huh?” Yoonah blurts a bit too loudly, leaning forward in sudden confusion. Reid airly laughs at her outburst.

“You called me crying, and you expected me to not come check on you? Come on, Nana. You should know me better than that.”

Yoonah lets a silence fall between them as she processes what Reid said to her. She can’t stop a smile from forming on her lips, looking around as an airy laugh leaves her throat.

“You know Juwon is home, right?”

“Yeah,” Reid shrugs, “And? We can go somewhere he isn’t. He’s not my concern.”

Yoonah feels her chest get hot when she realizes she’s his concern. It was the middle of the night, and he didn’t even question getting in his car and driving over to comfort her. She can’t place the feeling, but she knows she likes it.

One might say she adores it.

Reid’s car is small.

It has black leather seats that stick to Yoonah’s thighs and a radio that looks like it’s from 2015, but Yoonah doesn’t say anything. She thinks it adds to Reid’s allure and fits his character, but she doesn’t say anything again. She just gets in the car and lets him take her to a Dairy Queen, where he orders her an Oreo Blizzard. Her favorite.

They don’t say anything for a while. They just sit in the parking lot and eat their ice cream as a static rendition of a popular indie song plays over Reid’s radio.

“You wanna talk about that nightmare you had?” Reid asks between bites of his Reeces blizzard, shoveling it down like a child about to get caught for eating past his bedtime. Yoonah hums around her red plastic spoon, looking out her window with a sigh before shrugging her shoulders.

“It’s nothing new,” Yoonah tells him with another shrug, taking another bite of her ice cream. Reid grunts in response, taking another bite of his ice cream.

“Who cares? Let it out. That’s why we’re here.” He uses her spoon to tell her to go on, twirling it in the air before it dips back into his cup. Yoonah can’t argue with that, clearing her throat as she sits up straighter and sighs.

Talking about Jinhwa has always been hard for Yoonah. She never gets the response she wants from people. She wants them to tell her it wasn’t that bad, that he wasn’t that bad, that one day they could work it out and get back together, but they never do. It’s always “Poor Yoonah.” or “I’m so sorry, Yoonah.” never anything she wants to hear. A part of Yoonah longs for Jinhwa, but another part of her loathes him. She fears she only does so because she’s told to. Would she have ever hated Jinhwa if Bliss hadn’t stepped in and gotten Iseul involved? She hates that question because she doesn’t know how to answer it.

“It’s not a big deal,” Yoonah starts, leaning in the crook of the door and his seat. Reid gives her an unenthused look because he doesn’t believe her. She continues. “When I was hooked on drugs, he really didn’t like that. ‘Said it made me trashy, and he wasn’t wrong but, yeah, he didn’t like it. One night, I was at his house––I lived there, basically––and it was after dinner I just got so…” She lifts a hand next to her head, shaking it slightly as she twitches a bit, trying to give a physical representation of how she was feeling back then.

Reid nods with a hum, taking a bite of his ice cream. Yoonah likes that he understands so easily.

“Anxious, I guess? I don’t know. I did a line in his bathroom, and he could tell I was high. It pissed him off, so he threw me in his room and locked me in there.” Yoonah looks up at the car's roof, scratching behind her ear with a swallow. She can still feel the way the walls closed in on her, how raw her throat felt because of her crying. Her hand gets random aches, and she swears it's from how hard she was banging on that door, trying, begging, pleading to get out.

“How long?” Reid wonders after a beat of silence.

Yoonah mindlessly stirs around her ice cream, lips quirking to the side.

“Five days.” She runs her tongue against the underside of her teeth. Reid whistles lowly, brows raised in slight shock. “He was trying to detox me. ‘Didn’t work ‘cus I tired to fucking kill myself with his razor on night five but-” She shrugs like nothing, shoving her spoonful of ice cream in her mouth to shut herself up. She’s talked for too long, or at least she feels she has.

Reid's silence doesn’t feel like their usual one. It makes her sigh through her nose, lifting her eyes to look at him, only to find him staring at her with an unreadable stare. Yoonah tilts her head at him, blinking a few times. Reid shakes his head.

“Don’t do that,” Reid tells her. Yoonah shakes her head this time, looking away from him with a small huff. Reid laughs softly through his nose. She can hear his spoon scraping against the bottom of his cup.

“I’m not telling you that wasn’t awful. He shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“No shit,” Yoonah dryly replies, biting the inside of her cheek. “I shouldn’t have-”

“Yoonah,” Reid interjects as he raises a hand to both verbally and physically stop her, “Nothing you did would excuse him locking you in a room for five days. Nothing. You know it, too. You’re not stupid.”

Reid has always been blunt. It was one of the things Yoonah liked about him but now she feels like his words are cutting through her like knives. They’re not what she wants to hear. She wants to be overreacting. She wants to be dramatic. She wants to be dismissed. Yoonah swallows the lump in her throat, rubbing her nose with a sniff.

“He never hit me.” Yoonah throws that out there without even thinking. It doesn’t fit into the conversation, so she doesn’t know why she says it, but she does anyway. Reid doesn’t say anything; just turns his head towards her to listen. He rubs his lips together when he looks at her, watching her push her hair behind her ears as she places her half-finished cup of ice cream in his cupholder, silently offering it to him. He doesn’t take it; he just glances at it before returning his attention to her.

“He didn’t groom me either. That word is so fucking stupid. I wasn’t a kid when we met, but everyone acted like I was a toddler. No, I was eighteen. I was old enough to make decisions for myself, and that’s what I did. I made the decision to date Jinhwa because I love him, and he loves me, and that’s how it was supposed to be; then everything got fucked up because I couldn’t handle a fucking detox. I just fucking ruined it, and now-now look at me,” Yoonah shoots off, gaining speed with each word until it sounds like one big jumbled and shaky mess. Tears brim her eyes, and her lips form a wobbly line as she looks down at her hands, picking at her cuticles to calm herself down. It only stings with every pluck, making her brows knit together with a shake of her head.

“I have an apartment and a dog with a guy I can’t fucking look at because-because he’s a hypocrite and an idiot. He’s so fucking stupid he signed with Jinhwa despite telling me so many times I’m the victim! He thinks I’m a victim, and he signs a contract to work with the guy he thinks abused me? What the fuck is that? I can’t stand him. I fucking hate him. I hate looking at him, I hate talking to him, I hate it so much, and there’s nothing I can do because all I had was Jinhwa. He was all I had, and now I have nothing but Juwon––Oh my god, all I have is Juwon.” When she finally takes a breath, she sobs, covering her face with her palms. Before she can really start crying, Yoonah groans out of what has to be frustration, stopping any tears with violent wipes of her eyes. Still, Reid silently takes her hand into his, squeezing tightly.

Just as silent, he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing them to the top of the pale skin. Yoonah sniffles, looking at him in slight confusion, but there’s a fondness in her eyes that she can’t hide even if she wants to. She forces a tight smile, squeezing his hand, waiting for him to say something but he just brings her hand to his chest so she can feel his heart beating. It’s fast but even. It tells Yoonah all she needs to know.

A tight laugh leaves her lips, sniffling.

“I got you?” Yoonah asks softly, just to make sure. Reid, for once, smiles. He nods.

“You got me.”

#╰ * venus : scenarios ⧽ burn it to the ground .#ficnetfairy #fictional idol group #fictional idol community #kpop fanfic #idol oc #kpop oc #fake kpop oc #kpop au #idol au #kpop addition #idolverse #oc girl group #bts addition #fake kpop girl group #fake kpop idol #oc kpop group #stray kids addition

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prince-kallisto · 8 months

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Rewatching the first Anniversary animation, I realized something very odd about the opening scenes. This video shows off several locations in the school, primarily event locations. But all the locations are places that the we as the player have scene more (e.g Garden, Alchemy lab, courtyard, etc.)

But this opening shot is in a long, luxurious hall with framed photos of various locations in the school, but also seem to have photos from events (e.g Cater in a Beans Fest costume). We can safely assume that the event framed photos are taken from the MC’s ghost camera, but why is there this mysterious hallway lined with these locations? Additionally, the animation is played off as “it was just a dream” from Grim’s perspective, but is it actually?

First off, what REALLY caught by eye is the photograph of the Mirror Chamber…with the Dark Mirror glowing pure white. Now, please correct me if I’m wrong, but we never see the Dark Mirror like this!! Grim specifically walks by the photo too. The Dark Mirror usually looks like this or just shrouded in darkness:

It is never glowing with white light. EXCEPT…

In the Opening prologue movie where the mirror only glows a bright white with CROWLEY, who is implied to transform into a bird and escape through the mirror. So why would there be a framed photo of this exact moment that (I think) we never see in the canon main game? Even if it did actually show up in the main game, why frame such an obscure and odd moment? The Dark Mirror isn’t supposed to look like that.

Edit: Actually, I just realized the red gems on the mirror in the hallway. It’s not the Dark Mirror- it’s the MAGIC mirror from Snow White. I’ve actually been planning on a Magic Mirror theory,, but this is even weirder!!! Because people talk about the Magic Mirror as if it was just from a legend or nonexistent. So this frame of the mirror is even more purposeful- Crowley has a form of the magic mirror existing from the photograph.

Let’s back up a little haha. So far, what I’m thinking is that this Hallway is one of the underground passages that Ortho mentioned. No specific reason for this other than the fact that we have never seen this hallway and it seems very personal- thus being hidden by Crowley. Ortho would also be one of the few- if not only- beings on this campus besides Crowley to have knowledge of these secret doors and passages.

This is relevant that this hallway is an underground passage because of what happened in the prologue. We get a glimpse of a monster, most likely Grim, inside a destroyed mirror chamber. Notice how the Dark Mirror is just straight up gone. Not shattered, but missing. Although the school is very likely decimated above ground, any underground structures would likely be secure for now. BUT there’s a dent in this theory- more on that later.

The fact the ghost camera is involved feels important. There’s a lot we don’t know about this 3 second scene (hallway, glowing mirror, weird frames), but the Memories must have some importance in canon. In several fan translations I’ve read, the Memories are also referred to as “fragments,” which is…mildly suspicious (like…glass fragments????). Because what if with enough fragments, a whole picture could be made complete?

ANYWAY, the fact that (likely) Crowley has all these Memories framed, enlarged big enough for a person to fit through, is very suspicious. Because this is what happens to Grim: Bean Fest Cater moves in the photo, which is exactly what Memories are said to do, snaps a photo of Grim, who is suddenly transported to the exact time and place Cater was in when the photo was taken. Deuce was right about the “photographing parts of your soul” being sketchy haha.

This could obviously just be a thing for the animation, just some creative liberty. But why design this hallway with all these photos? So far, what I’m thinking is that Grim was in a place he was NOT supposed to be in. Who knows how he got in, but he seems almost mischievous. But remember, Grim wakes up from a DREAM at the end of this animation. Book 7 has all of us being put into a dream, and magically-induced dreams seem to have great power. Grim seemed to even look aware of his surroundings and was significantly frightened. This is the same way in Book 7, where Grim is immediately aware that something is wrong.

However, if Grim woke up from a dream, how did the photographs of the Bean Fest exist in the first place?

This gets a little trippy, so hang in there haha. Theories have always floated around with the side events in TWST being part of Malleus’ dream world, or at least being set in an alternate universe. I also vibe with this theory, because it could explain a lot of the happy endings and the contrived circumstances of getting random characters (some who have no relationship in canon) all together. Some events specifically happen in a certain season (e.g Halloween) without the characters aging up a year, so it’s safe to say that some events are not in the main story canon.

Again, if Grim was briefly transported into the alternate Event universe, and work up from a “dream,” it implies that the hallway was not part of the dream. Unless…? This is where the dent in my underground passage theory comes in, but I think I’ve found a theory in even more satisfied with.

My crack theory for this one is that this mysterious hallway is a location only accessible in a dream- but specifically CROWLEY’s dreams. Think about it- if Grim wakes up from a dream after being in a location we’ve never seen in canon, this must be a special place. And I think this theory is possible because of what we know of Mickey Mouse’s room

Mickey himself says that he can only access this weird room in his DREAMS. Who knows if this room even exists in his reality, but he travels to this room in his dreams and is able to communicate with another WORLD, Aka the TWST world. In the prologue, Grim is also the one who seems to open the coffin that can only be opened with a special key. So it makes sense if Grim was able to break the rules again and manage to slip himself into this hallway by accident.

And remember that glowing white mirror I mentioned? In the Opening movie (highly recommend rewatching it! 👀), every time Crowley goes into the mirror, he comes back into the school. The first time he goes into the mirror, there’s a raven flying by the school building itself. The second time, the raven flies into the mirror, and the camera zooms out, making that shot look like it came from inside a coffin…that’s inside the school mirror chamber. Again, hard to explain haha, rewatch the opening to see what I’m talking about. But there’s this weird inception thing going on with the opening, and always with Crowley and the glowing white mirror.

I think Crowley has a photo of that mirror specifically because it seems to be a “hub” for him to travel back into- but I can’t say if it’s a physical location, universe travel, or even time travel. Whatever this mirror is, it is very important for Crowley to travel. I mean, Crowley himself mentions alternate worlds and universes in the prologue! And with Mickey being a thing, there is the confirmation of other worlds.

And how would the photos of Beanfest exist in this dream world? Well, the ghost camera creates Memories and fragments, right? Quite literally capturing a part of a person’s soul. Crack theory part two: If the events are a part of an alternate reality, Crowley is able to put these fragments together in his dreams. So the hallway is not only just accessible in a dream, but it’s also a place connecting the alternate realities together- and Crowley would have knowledge of this other, peaceful Event reality where no Overblots happen. And since this hallway is inherently very trippy, Grim experienced all the fragments of these events in his dreams- or perhaps he was even briefly transported to the event reality.

I feel a little validated with my crack theories because in a 2020 Q&A interview, Yana Toboso said “so I am wondering if parallel and “if” worlds are going to start appearing.”

I’m also going to involve the TWST manga in this, because the Yuu’s change every Overblot. And notice how the mysterious hallway has photos of every dorm. Whether time loop or alternate universe shenanigans are involved, I think Crowley is able to travel between these events by going through a photo with a specific dorm, with the photo being taken at a specific point in time. E.g the Heartslabyul photo would go to the time before the Overblot, or even go to the world of a certain Yuu from the manga. Because even though each Yuu in the manga goes through all the Overblots, it’s one specific Yuu that has a special connection with a respective Overblot. Take the Octavinelle Yuu, Yuuta. He seems to be a perfect foil to Azul, especially regarding what Azul is most insecure about. So even though the Yuus fight the other Overblots, they are tied to a specific Overblot and point of time because of their “soul bond” with the Overblotter. Which is what the Ghost Camera is based off of: the soul bond between the photographer and the people they’re photographing. And if the bond becomes strong enough, who’s to say that Crowley can’t use these Memories to travel through time or worlds?

Tbh, I really don’t know where I’m going with this ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ This is all just so weird, and this few-minute animation ties in A LOT of things that we have little information about (the workings of the ghost camera, a glowing mirror, underground passages, water as transportation). Basically this crack theory boils down to “Crowley sus,” as per usual lmao.

This is also why I’ve never made my own iterations of the dream world/time loop theory, because I go off the rails if I have to think too much hahaha. If y’all have some ideas or things to add, I’d greatly appreciate it! I’m no good explaining stuff like this, even I’m not sure what I’m talking about haha \(//∇//)\

#sometimes I doubt my own neurodivergency #but then I make long theories like this based on literally 2 frames of animations #it really just be like that #twst #twst theory #twst grim #twst dire Crowley #twst ghost camera #KallistoPost #long post

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cheesecake-the-chicken · 5 months

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anyways so about that singlet thing ^^’ (tw for dissociation and syscourse/system origins under the cut)

i’ve been doing some research into it and i’m pretty sure i’m median. we think we used to be a singlet until a really recent period of heavy dissociation, when the original self fractured and became us. im still kind of the “core” of the original self, but the others are the parts of him that branched off.

at first we thought i had synthesized/imagined them or that i was pretending, but things have kinda stayed this way for a while lol. i have really bad dissociative amnesia as of late so i cant honestly tell you how long it’s been like this or if there have been many signs leading up to it, but what i do know is that there’s been a distinct “we” that was separate from “i”.

according to the terms commonly used here (and i could VERY easily be mistaken!), we are probably “mixed origin”? it’s hard to say but the fracturing is a very recent development, caused by heavy dissociation due to Reasons

i’m not gonna lie i used to err on the side of caution when it came to endogenic systems, i didn’t want to assume anything as a (then?) singlet because it wasn’t and tbh still isn’t my place. but this has definitely opened my eyes and made me realize that i could very easily be seen as faking, even though i’m (most likely) not.

i’m still hesitant to call myself a system because i REALLY don’t want to if it isn’t my place to, and we only know so much about ourselves so far. we originally thought we were just aspects of the same person that got emphasized, but we understand it better that we are fragments of the consciousness of the same person. we don’t have osdd i believe, but we do have c-ptsd and the theory of secondary structural dissociation really fits us.

therefore, i think i’m going to change my dni to include anyone who’s sysmed or tries to fakeclaim others. it’s my understanding that very few people on this website are psychologists/psychologists/neuroscientists/doctors, and nobody’s experience is universal. so little is understood about plurality and the brain in general, and i don’t want to be mutuals with anyone who feels it’s their place to police other peoples’ experiences

i probably cant answer any personal questions about it right now in my/our best interest, but just know that i’m getting the help i need! i’m just hoping to find maybe anyone else who has similar experiences or is also median. i may post/rb about it more in the future

love you guys! sorry for the ooc kinda post

#cheesecake’s perch #plurality #pluralistic #plural community #actually median #median system #trying not to tag this with too much system-specific stuff yk

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lunamaraproject · 4 months

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LUNAMARA: Fragments [1]

🦢

It’s not like Felix enjoys unpleasant jobs - it just seems that it always falls to him to be the one to do them.

Perhaps he has too much of an approachable face, so people feel comfortable with asking him to do more than others would. He would like to think it’s because he’s more capable, but he knows he isn’t. He doesn’t enjoy paperwork and slogs through it with gritted teeth. He’s much more comfortable dealing with people face to face, but knows that even in that area, some people find him too chummy and familiar for their tastes.

Still. Unpleasant jobs must be done.

Felix takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door of the Office for Administration of Internal Affairs. It’s a name as vague as its purpose - a catch-all term for rooms full of people who pick up the pieces when things go wrong.

“Identification,” says a tired voice from the other side, muffled by the door. It used to be that an automated responder would ask and identify him, but now they’re back to the old fashioned way. It’s funny, really.

“Case Manager Felix Cygnus,” he replies, smiling to himself.

“Access denied,” comes the sour-sounding not-auto response.

“Awww, come on,” Felix pouts, leaning against the door forlornly. “I’ve traipsed all over Amethyst Ward today and you’re going to shut me out? Me? Your beloved Fifi?”

“You aren’t my beloved anything.”

Felix gasps. “Liar!”

Behind the door, there is a heavy sigh like all the moon's fragments have weighed themselves upon one set of stooped shoulders. Then, Felix practically falls to the floor as the door swings open, unlocked. He makes sure to sprawl himself out dramatically, including fanning his hair out in a way pleasing to the eye.

“Ow! Owwie! Owch! I think I chipped something!” he cries, writhing this way and that. “Rufie, I will sue for compensation!"

Sat behind a wide desk and nearly obscured by the sheer amount of paperwork, an impassive and unimpressed face stares down at him. Rufus Canis is young in years but with the soul of an ancient, and was already tired of Felix’s attempts to lighten the dour atmosphere of this place by hour 2 of working there. Felix fully suspects that the only reason Rufus hasn’t fired him is out of a sense of respect for a colleague he eventually came to be promoted ahead of, despite Felix having worked there since before Rufus was even born. His golden hair is cropped short for ease of care, and his dark green eyes have lost most of their shine from how long he’s spent staring at case files. There’s no glimmer to any of him, actually. He probably needs a nap. Lunamara will fall out of the sky before he ever takes one.

“Are you going to get up off my floor, or are you going to stare at me, Cygnus,” he gripes, already turning his gaze back to his work. “I’m busy. If you have enough time to play around, I have errands for you to run.”

“Ehh, but I just got back!” Felix whines, though he does get (gracefully) to his feet.

This, too, is ignored. “Is Amethyst fully closed up yet?”

“Ah, mmm…” The hesitation is answer enough.

“Those selfish bastards,” Rufus mutters under his breath. “The more districts and wards we have to keep open and supplied, the worse off the essential services are. Can’t even afford to run power to my intercom…”

“I’m working on it, Rufus, I promise,” Felix assures him, placing four more case folders on his in-tray. With how full it is, one would think he wouldn’t be keen for more. “They just need some time to come to terms with it. Find the right people to settle with.”

“If they don’t hurry it up I’ll put them to work myself or throw them off this stupid rock.”

Felix can’t help but smile at him. Rufus would, of course, never resort to such a thing. He’s all bark and no bite, like those adorable animals from down below. Dogs, that’s it. Still, it won’t do to tease a creature with teeth.

“What else can I assist you with today?”

Rufus reaches to the left and picks up a folder with several colourful tabs sticking out of it. “I need you to run this report to Her Royal Highness for her perusal and approval.”

“Poor Elsie,” Felix pouts, taking the folder - and nearly dropping it, now that it’s become so dense and heavy. “She might start crying again if she sees this.”

“Every day I wonder how you haven’t been arrested for treason, Cygnus,” Rufus mutters. “Princess Elsennae is perfectly capable. She’s only 20 years younger than me.”

“Aww, Rufie, that means you could have a chance! Think of it like an office romance–”

“OUT.”

Felix makes quick on his escape with the folder, before Rufus really does start throwing something at him. The banter has cheered him up though, enough that the long walk from the offices to the palace’s main halls doesn’t seem quite so daunting.

There was a time when this information would be transferred over connected terminals, rather than on foot by one particularly good looking Case Manager, but such frivolous uses of power are long since past. He steps over another chunk of stone and makes note of the gap in the archway that it came from - nobody will do anything to fix it, at this point, he knows, but he’d like not to get hit on the head if he can avoid it. At least the lights work. It really would be something desperate if even the palace couldn’t keep the lights on.

Not that they aren’t in rather dire straits already.

🌗