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delta-piscium · 11 months

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@steddie-week day 1: Hunger | 1.1k words cw: light angst in that Steve is a little sad/dealing with some mental stuff but like hurt/comfort (not EDs which mental stuff combined with the prompt word might make it seem like, hunger is used as a metaphor)

Sometimes Steve doesn’t talk to anyone for days. He just shuts himself in his room and hides, barely leaves his bed. Pretends he doesn’t exist, or that time has stopped and he’s the only thing that exists.

Sometimes, he’ll go back too soon, feel bad for the ignored calls and drag himself out of bed to see the people who matter most to him. But it won’t feel warm and soft those times. He’ll be too raw and It’ll feel like they’re grabbing his insides and eating them. Pulling his heart and brain out of his body and devouring them without letting him eat theirs in return.

Usually, he’s okay with that. He knows his place, he knows that’s what he’s for. For other people to get fed. And he’s happy to feed, to do that for them.

He loves them, of course he’s gonna give himself over. It’s just that sometimes they take too much. They don’t know they do he thinks, they don’t know they’re eating him alive. That he’s presenting himself on a silver platter and letting them take take take, and that sometimes they take too much.

That’s why he disappears, so he can grow back. So he can give more. Because if he stops giving he's afraid they’ll get tired. He won’t be useful, he can’t give when he’s like that. He starts craving, he starts wanting. He feels starved and wants to take and feed too, and that’s not part of the deal. He’s not supposed to eat, he’s supposed to be eaten. So when he turns hungry and ravenous he hides, he isolates.

Robin is the only one who truly gets this about him, who doesn’t take and demand. She gently accepts the things he gives and never without giving too, forcing him to stay whole. It’s overwhelming and sometimes he has to hide from that too, he doesn’t know how to deal with the force of it. He’s so used to the constant hunger it’s a shock when it’s gone but he’s gotten better. And anyway, he and Robin are part of one whole so whatever is given or taken between them is never really gone. It stays with both of them.

Robin is the only one, or she was the only one he should say. Because now there’s Eddie. Eddie who gives and gives and gives, almost as much as he does. But who doesn’t seem to dwindle and dim like Steve does. Who doesn’t seem to starve or hunger. Eddie who notices when Steve does, when he stumbles and gets greedy. Who holds him up and makes him whole with a look, a touch, a word.

Eddie who breaks in through his window when he shuts himself in his big empty house and lays with him in his bed, softly telling Steve stories and running his fingers through his hair.

It’s wonderful.

It's the worst.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna end up as empty as me,” Steve tells him, whispers it into the dark. “That you’re here now and you’re giving and I’m taking and you’re gonna be the one left with nothing.”

Eddie doesn’t respond immediately but hums in acknowledgment, lets him know he heard and is thinking.

“This is good for me too,” he says eventually, “being with you and resting. Getting to be here for you when you never used to let anyone but Robin be. It’s good for me too.”

“It can be good and still drain you.” Says Steve, knows it to be true. He doesn’t resent giving the way he does, he loves it, it’s good. It drains him.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “this doesn’t drain me, you’re comforting me too. It’s balanced.”

Balanced. That’s what Robin tells him too. That’s what Nancy sometimes asked him for when they dated and he couldn’t let her see the cracks. That’s what he wonders about with his other friends.

He doesn’t usually know how to do that. He doesn’t know where the lines are. He doesn’t understand how Eddie knows.

“You let me give, and I let you give, so it’s balanced. We don’t take from each other, we gift and we receive. It’s balanced. You have to let other people give sometimes too, Steve.”

It hits something deep in him, the last words. He knows this, he doesn’t want to know it.

“I’m afraid they won’t. if I open myself up to it. If I ask, I’m afraid they won’t.” He says it so quietly it’s almost inaudible but Eddie hears.

His hands still in Steve’s hair for a moment before moving again, gently scratching his scalp.

“I know baby. But that’s not fair, they want to give too. If they knew how much they took without giving back they’d be heartbroken. It’s not fair to you or them.”

Steve lets Eddies words wash over him, he knows he’s right. They’d be nauseous with it. His sweet wonderful friends and family would be crushed.

“Sometimes it will happen, maybe,” Eddie continues when Steve doesn’t respond beyond a sharp breath in. “Sometimes people won’t know how to give after only getting but you gotta let them try. Sometimes they’ll learn and adjust, sometimes they won’t and you’ll have to deal with that. But you can’t starve yourself like this because you won’t let them try.”

"What if I take too much?"

"Then they talk to you, like you should talk to them."

“When did you get so wise,” Steve snorts, his voice is tight but he makes the effort, tries to lighten the mood. Deflects, like he always does.

Eddie lets him, a little, knows Steve has to. But he’s still serious when he answers.

“Wayne is like a never-ending well of insight and digging around in everything, never lets me get away with shit.”

The opposite of Steve’s parents who were the first to take from him and never give, never look into his eyes and tell him to eat.

“He’s a good guy,” Steve tells Eddie instead of weighing him down more than he already has. Instead of acknowledging and relieving the hunger pang that strikes him at the thought. Even now, here, he doesn’t know how.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “I’m here to relay his wisdom, like playing telephone with whatever stuff he teaches me. The things your parents took away from you.”

Eddie still knows, of course, he does. He always knows.

“And what do you get?” Steve has to ask.

“I get you. I get everything.”

Steve smiles, turns around to kiss Eddie. He doesn’t feel empty when Eddie kisses him back, hungry. When he takes and devours.

#i didn't think i was gonna be able to do steddie week becuase it crept up on me and i haven't kept up #and i wasn't gonna post this but like i wrote this in like 40 minutes in a haze and then went on tumblr and saw one of the #prompts for day 1 was hunger and i had literally just written this thing where i used hunger as a metaphor so i went back and reread it #and did some edits and now im posting it #which well i usually stick to humor in my writing so this is always scary but here we are #this is so different from what i usually post but this is also representative of like 70% of my notes app i just dont share #this kind of writing but fuck it i guess #my writing #dels steddie thoughts #steddieweek2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie week

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sygneth · 2 months

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Echoes lore time! (And also my random DE thoughts about Harry's place!)

Reading the last page, you might have had a feeling we're going to see the inside of Harry's place soon, and you were right!

So to make everything clear (and because, in the first place, I had a place with a very specific plan in my head when I've been writing scenes at HDB's) i drew a lil cheat sheet.

(Yes. I like to make building plans. A lot.)

I believe Harry inherited this place, and thus he owes it. And also, this is why it's in a not-the-worst of tenement houses and in not-the worst standard. It was a place where they used to live with Dora, and I think he made it a sanctuary of a kind after she left. He never moved anything from its original place deliberately, and so the place slowly started to become a decaying memorial of a nonexistent relationship.

Harry's place is a whole big meta topic to explore and I feel like there is a lot to it in terms of the psychology of a place.

Assuming that he is still living in the same place as he used to when with Dora, oh boy. The bad days, when every single thing reminded him of her. The remorse, the memories, the past. A scratch over the floor, where she tripped while dancing. Her favourite mug, or rather the few pieces of it, after he broke it in a fit of rage. An empty space after a painting that she loved so much. The scratched wall over the bedhead. The bed itself.

Then, the better days, when he tried to take care of his apartment, but some things were already damaged beyond repair. The plants died, he could buy new ones, but he knew that, sooner or later, they'd share the previous one's fate. The ripped carpet, stained furniture, cracked tiles. Could be replaced, but sooner or later they'd share the previous one's fate. A scratched floor. The scratched floor.

And then, rather sooner than later, the days become bad again.

I don't think Harry liked to spend time at his place. Especially in the bedroom. Especially when he wanted to quit. There was too much past in there, staring at him from every corner, every crack of the floor. I think a good deal of his past relapses might have been caused by this place. Sometimes a forgotten something he found while cleaning it up, sometimes just the space itself, soaked with memories.

(And to all my faithful readers of Echoes, I just want to let you know I read every single one of your tags and comments and it always makes my day <3 Thank you for that everybody, and if I don't always reply to the comments, I want you to know I do read them and I do appreciate them a whole whole lot, life is just very overwhelming sometimes)

#echoes of elysium #echoes talking #lore #disco elysium #my art #harry du bois #or his apartment rather #and kind of #disco elysium meta #? i guess #very late night thoughts #it's 2;27 omg i should be asleep #i hope this makes sense what i wrote here i am actually very tired #again thanks for being here and reading this you're da best #(also drawing flats from this perspective is as rewarding as fucked up ya know)

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skyloftian-nutcase · 5 months

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Gerudo Town (Dad Squad)

All leads had indicated that the Yiga hideout was in the desert, as it had been in the past. Abel shouldn't have been surprised, honestly.

The issue was that he didn't know exactly where the base was. But a group of warriors did.

Trust was nonexistent these days, in the years after the Calamity. Gerudo Town had managed to escape much of the damage, but it also was cut off from the rest of Hyrule as a result. The oasis was abandoned, only utilized by weary and lost travelers, but no Gerudo roamed the sands around it.

"So let's visit this town, then," Rusl commented after taking another swig out of his newly refilled water flask.

"We can't," Abel sighed, leaning against a rock and basking in the coolness of the shade. "The Gerudo is a matriarchal society. They don't let men inside their walls."

Rusl blinked. Blinked again. Bemused, he remarked, "Matriarchal doesn't mean sexist. Surely they'll let us in."

Abel bit the inside of his cheek. He'd made this explanation plenty of times to his men in the years past. "I don't think the Gerudo are necessarily sexist. They don't distrust or hate men. It's just their tradition - whatever the reason, only girls are born to Gerudo mothers. So they just... don't interact with men in their hometown. It's tradition at this point."

"Strange," Rusl muttered. "The Gerudo are... rare where I'm from, but their distrust was shared equally to all, no matter their sex. They just didn't like anyone who wasn't Gerudo."

Rusl's words reminded Abel that they had yet to address a rather glaring matter. Ever since they had raided the abandoned Yiga camp, Abel had been pondering the fact that the Hero of Hyrule who the Fierce Deity had been protecting was a different Hero from his son. The Hero of Time was a children's story, a tale of folklore so old that barely anything was known of it except that the Soul of the Hero had traveled across time to save multiple lands.

So little was known of the goddess' destined Hero that Abel had often questioned the validity of any of the stories. He'd had no reason to disbelieve them, but... there was little reason to believe them either.

At least until his boy had come to him holding that sword.

So if the Hero of Time was one of Links being pursued by the Yiga... that just led to so many questions. Firstly, how the hell had they managed to do this??

Secondly... what was Rusl's boy? A potential Hero who could turn into a wolf? Abel had never heard of Ordon, so perhaps this Link was different - not of the Soul of the Hero but a savior to his own land nonetheless?

And now, this talk of different Gerudo cultures. Not only were these Heroes real, they and their guardians were plucked from Hyrule's history and thrown here.

I wonder their opinions on the state of things, Abel thought bitterly. How utterly we failed to maintain what they'd fought for.

It was a good thing his son was in a coma. He knew Link wouldn't be able to stand the judgment from the other heroes, whether it was good or bad.

"Either way," Rusl said, rising and interrupting Abel's musings. "I'll scout ahead to see if we can figure anything out without talking to them."

"The desert is treacherous," Abel warned. "It's foolish to go alone."

"I've gone to plenty a dangerous place alone," Rusl reassured him with a smile. "I won't engage in anything foolish, don't worry. I'll be back before sunset. This is just reconnaissance."

Abel supposed another issue to ponder was how little Rusl spoke of his past when he was clearly more than a blacksmith who knew some sword skills, but now didn't seem the time to argue it. He'd seen the man hold his own in battle well enough. Sighing, he waved a dismissive hand, watching the Ordonian walk away.

Glancing back at the oasis, he saw Rusl converse with the Fierce Deity briefly before continuing. The deity stared at the water curiously.

Abel wandered over to him. "Is something wrong?"

"This heat is mildly draining," Fierce remarked, dipping a finger into the water.

"You're more than welcome to swim in it if that's what you're wondering," Abel said. "But people do use it as a water source as well, so I advise cleaning yourself first."

"It does seem ill advised to drink from water that people can swim in," Fierce noted, raising an eyebrow. "My greater concern is hydration."

Abel blinked. If he was worried about hydrating, then why didn't he just drink?

"How much water does one need?" Fierce asked. "I have noticed you're both drinking much more since our arrival. Is it a matter of body heat regulation?"

"Have you never been to the desert...?" Abel questioned in disbelief.

"I don't recall," Fierce answered mildly, voice growing quiet. "I believe once, in battle, I was utilized, but not long enough for it to be a great concern."

Ah. Right. The things this deity did and didn't seem to know... it made Abel have so many questions. First and foremost, how the hell he was still alive.

But secondly... utilized?

"Drink more," Abel advised. "The body loses more water through sweating, and we all sweat more in the heat. Even you are."

"I noticed that much," Fierce replied with a chuckle, as if he were entertained at being taught something so simple. He dipped the flask given to him by Rusl into the oasis and began to drink.

Abel sighed, squinting against the sunlight. Link would certainly need more water if he was being held here. Or, well, had been held here. It seemed silly to go to the desert when their lead had been near Akkala, but... all Abel knew was that the Yiga stronghold was here, and they had all woken at the other side of Hyrule. They'd not had any luck finding any hints of their boys the entire journey here, so they had nothing else to go off.

After several hours of silence (Abel wasn't a particularly talkative man, and despite the deity's curiosity, he usually wouldn't speak unless prompted), Abel recognized Rusl's wavy silhouette in the distance.

The brightly colored handkerchief he was using to wipe his face was new.

"Did you have any success?" Fierce asked.

"Not really," Rusl answered. "However, I did figure out a way that we could get in to learn more."

"Is there a secret passage into the town?" Abel asked, curious. He had always wondered. He had always respected things that were forbidden, but that hadn't meant he wouldn't imagine ways of getting around it.

"Not from what I can tell," Rusl said. "But, with my plan, you could walk through the front door."

Abel found himself both curious and skeptical. He crossed his arms. "Really?"

Rusl held out the colorful handkerchief to him. Slowly taking it, Abel recognized that it was not, in fact, a handkerchief.

"The way the Gerudo dress lends itself to disguise," Rusl explained with a mischievous smile.

Abel held the veil at arm's length as if it would attack him. "You want. To do. What."

"Well if they only let women in, we have to obtain information somehow." Rusl shrugged. "You're smaller in build than me, and your hair's all grown out."

If looks could kill, Abel would have cut Rusl into pieces. "Absolutely not."

"What is it?" Fierce asked.

"He's suggesting I dress like a Gerudo woman to get into the town," Abel hissed. "The answer is no."

Rusl furrowed his brow, clearly frustrated. "Put your pride aside, Abel. This is important."

"Do you really think something like that would actually work?!" Abel motioned angrily towards the deity. "We might as well let him stroll into town in such attire for all the good it would do us!"

The Fierce Deity plucked the veil out of Abel's grip. "Will this allow one to look like a Gerudo woman?"

"Not necessarily," Rusl answered. "The point is that it will hide that he's a man."

"The veil will, but the rest is fairly apparent," Abel snapped. "I'm missing a few key components, Rusl."

"Nothing we can't tweak a little," Rusl replied easily.

This was insane.

"What other attire did you bring?"

Abel turned to argue with the deity about the stupidity of this entire half-witted plan when he saw the mythical man trying to figure out how to put the veil on.

He can't be serious.

"Well," Rusl said slowly as he pulled out more clothes. "I did grab varying sizes. The Gerudo are far taller and broader than I expected, so their clothes might actually fit you better."

"Very well," Fierce said casually, finally settling the veil in the right place. He started stripping his armor without a care, and Abel thought he was going insane. Was this actually happening right now?! A war god was going to cross dress in whatever insane attire the Gerudo chose to wear and--

And--

You know what, to hell with it. Better him than me.

When the Fierce Deity had finished switching clothes, the other two stared at him. Rusl crossed his arms, examining the disguise carefully while Abel just felt his sanity continue to slip away. He wasn't sure he cared at this point. Perhaps he could at least find some entertainment from this?

No, no he couldn't. It was too stupid.

Count your blessings, he reminded himself. At least they actually believe you about the threat the Yiga present now. They believe you enough to even try this fool's errand.

The Fierce Deity, usually a foreboding sight in his pale blue tunic and silver armor, striking attention with the royal blue scarf tied around his waist, was instead adorned in fiery red, which emphasized the paleness of his exposed, muscular abdomen and shoulders. He wore loose, baggy pants and flat footed shoes, silver hair and eyes glittering against a red and gold veil.

"This is not going to work," Abel immediately commented. "He's too big."

Too big, too broad, too muscular. The women of Gerudo were strong enough to probably lift an entire guardian off its feet, but their muscles were still distinctly patterned differently. Women's shoulders were not so broad, nor chest and waist so box-like. Whether the Gerudo assumed he was one of theirs or Hylian, he would still look too masculine to play this part.

"They'll find out immediately," he continued, feeling his stomach churn at the thought that came next. Maybe I should do it... it would be more reasonable, but... no. This entire thing is idiotic. It'll never work.

Rusl, who had been foraging for something else in his bag, suddenly pulled out two hydromelons. "Here, put these in your top."

Fierce took the fruit without argument, and Abel stared, eyes widening. Well, Rusl was certainly committed.

"Giving him breasts isn't going to fix the obvious issue that he is a man," he argued.

"Of course it'll help," Rusl replied. "He just has to... well..."

Rusl paused, staring at the deity as he fumbled to stuff the fruit in his top without them falling out and splattering on the ground.

"Play the part," Abel finished for him flatly.

XXX

Well... it wasn't an immediate disaster.

Abel and Rusl hid behind a dune as they watched Fierce approach the guards, who exchanged... baffled looks from what Abel could tell.

"Hello, fellow women," the deity greeted.

Rusl choked back a cough.

"This is not going to work," Abel hissed, his own voice strained in a competition between secondhand embarrassment, horror, and losing it.

"Hey, it would've been better if you did it!" Rusl whisper back.

Over my dead body.

Surprisingly, the guards shuffled aside to allow him passage after a few confused glances.

Abel stared.

"Ha!" Rusl huffed in triumph. "I told you it would work."

"You didn't know it was going to work!" Abel accused, turning to glare at him.

Rusl ignored him. "Let's see if we can get closer. We can peek over the far wall a little bit."

Abel sighed heavily, dragging his feet through the sand as the pair practically crawled around the edge of the town before climbing the wall opposite of the entrance. Abel half wondered why they couldn't just enter that way, but he supposed in such a small area they were bound to be noticed.

The pair peered over.

It was immediately apparent which one was Fierce. He was simultaneously blending in and sticking out like a sore thumb. His silver hair caught the sunlight, and his towering, imposing figure managed to outshine the Gerudo. Every woman who passed paused and gave him a strange side eye, but no one outright said anything. For his part, Fierce was standing still, surveying the area.

Abel groaned, pounding his forehead against the wall. "He doesn't even know what to do."

Rusl bit his lip, slowly climbing the wall and kneeling in the water that bordered the edge of the town. Abel hesitantly followed. Fierce immediately noticed of them with his superior eyesight. Rusl made little gestures, wiggling his fingers and mouthing words even Abel couldn't understand.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "He'll never know what you're trying to tell him!"

Fierce nodded, walking slowly around the town.

"He's doing quite well for his first espionage mission," Rusl commented with a chuckle.

Abel groaned. "You're insane."

"Oh, Abel, you should lighten up. There are many ways to achieve a goal, it's not all about the sword."

"I'm aware of that."

The deity finally started to talk to women, disappearing in and out of the men's sight. Abel sighed, rubbing his face as he felt it steadily burning. Between the bright rays and the reflection from the water, he'd rival a Hylian tomato by the end of the day.

"Hopefully he can get some legitimate leads," Rusl muttered. "The sooner we can find the boys, the better."

Abel wanted to face plant into the water with the heat as bad as it was. Instead, he splashed a little on his face. "Yes, well, you're forgetting something very important."

"What?"

"Our esteemed deity is a war god with no idea how mortals function. He's probably going to ask them how they braid their hair."

"Come now, don't disrespect him like that. He's not an idiot."

"I didn't say he was an idiot. On the contrary, he's very curious. That's the problem."

"He'll focus."

Abel hummed, immediately thinking of his wife, Tilieth. Rusl clearly wasn't used to the mischief an inquisitive mind could stir up. Not to mention the deity wasn't exactly subtle. He was certain the deity's concern for his own Link would drive him forward, but he was likely to get distracted as well.

Assuming he could even keep the act up.

"A voe has been spotted! Up there!!"

Abel and Rusl both jolted, eyes wide as they looked down to see guards running their way with spears in hand.

"Time to go!" Rusl said quickly as the pair leapt over the wall back into the sand and scurried away.

Hours later as the sun cast long shadows and brought a chill to the air around the oasis, Abel paced anxiously until he and Rusl both caught sight of their companion's return.

"What did you learn?" Rusl immediately asked.

Fierce pulled the veil and shirt off, clearly having grown uncomfortable in it, and headed for his armor. "Mating customs are strange."

Abel immediately burst into laughter, vindicated. He honestly hadn't expected anything else. The day was wasted, but he supposed he could get what entertainment was available from it. Even he hadn't expected that to be the first thing out of the deity's mouth.

Rusl frowned. "What...?"

"Did Uli, your wife, assert her dominance to you, or is that a Gerudo custom?"

Abel's amusement multiplied tenfold, and he wheezed as he doubled over. Rusl stared at the deity in horror.

"I seem to recall you both spoke of varying mating customs in that village, after all."

Rusl immediately face palmed. "This... those are not the details you were supposed to be investigating."

"Fear not," Fierce continued, slipping on his trousers and under tunic. "I also learned the location of the Yiga hideout. One of the women reported having seen two boys and a wolf as well."

Abel and Rusl snapped to attention, earlier amusement forgotten.

"The Gerudo claim that the hideout was set on fire," Fierce explained. "They investigated it and discovered our heroes. My little hero apparently did not let them near him or his companions, but they were all alive as of one week ago."

One week. A million things could happen in that span of time. Link could have died in that time.

"Does anyone know where they went?" he asked breathlessly.

"The guards tracked them for a few days until they left the desert."

"They left the desert a week ago?" Rusl repeated. "That... so we must have--"

The Ordonian let out a strangled, frustrated groan, turning away as he shook his head. Abel felt similarly. They'd just missed them.

He wondered if the encampment near Akkala had been a more recent lead, after all. Then again, it had taken them a week to get here.

"We need to leave," he said. "The coolness of the night will be good to travel through in the desert."

The other two didn't argue. Rusl was growing frustrated and concerned at how long it had been. Abel was panicking at his son's condition. The three set out within minutes, determination set on stony faces.

Hylia... I... haven't prayed lately, I know, but... please...

Protect him. Protect... protect them all.

#the gerudo 100% figured out Fierce was a dude but they also 100% recognized he was NOT a normal being and did not want to pick fights #the chief thought it was funny and wondered if he was some kind of magical creature so she let him wander the town #the guards kept a close eye on him #he asked about food and proper nutrition for mortals #I will share silly dialogue on the matter later probably #he also got a massage and asked to learn the technique for his friends <3 #he'll probably break Rusl and Abel in half but it's the thought that counts #the links escaped the fortress once #got recaptured in the desert #escaped again and went out into hyrule #got recaptured once there #got pissed at being recapured and went back to gerudo desert for the sole purpose of blowing up the base #and that's the point they're at before the yiga start to bring out the big guns #writing #Dad Squad #abel #rusl #fierce deity #phew I finally wrote it!#probably not as silly as everyone was expecting but I definitely would've gotten bogged down if I got too detailed #now I wanna write the boys #fairy boy deserves to kick some yiga butt as a treat #brother wolf definitely wants to

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milkbreadtoast · 2 months

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(random) ngl before i started learning korean i felt like the worst failure of a korean but now i feel like the best failure of a korean (/j) HAHA

like im struggling to speak but least im speaking..!! I feel like I've restored an essential piece of myself that was missing...

#i tweeted this but im prob gonna delete it soon so #puts it here too in case ppl can relate...? lol #since i know its a common immigrant kid experience...#being disconnected from your heritage language i mean #for various reasons...#i thought i was ok w it but its rly a horrible feeling #like i said it felt like smth was missing #and i kinda jokingly self deprecatingly worded it as the best failure of a korean #but thats kind of... accurate fmfbnf like i feel embarrassed that im not fluent and feel like im a baby flailing my arms #but i still feel like even if im imperfect im more... complete #that isnt to say i was incomplete before... or anyone in the same situation is. but its still an exuberant feeling #and helps me get over feeling embarrassed that i suck at kr so bad. like AT LEAST I CAN COMMUNICATE NOW!!!#talk tag #laughing to myself rmbring that me and prob 1000s of other asian americans prob wrote an essay abt being detached from our culture for #our college/scholarship/etc essays #well i didnt know i was lgbt then i had to write abt smth!! and it was eating me up all the time...#i rly hope i can improve my kr more in the coming yrs

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popsicle-stick · 1 year

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I don't know anything about England but I'm interested in how the characters' locations inform their characters like Seward's. I'd like to know more about the implications of being from Purfleet/Essex for example (Though iirc Stoker immigrated from Dublin well into adulthood so I don't know how well he knew all the cities.)

there's so much to be said! i really don't think that stoker meant much intentionally, but the placement of the asylum in purfleet specifically is interesting.

long post so i'm cutting this!

the asylum at purfleet, essex, is an example of the common 19th-early 20th century phenomenon of establishing psychiactric hospitals in the rural counties surrounding london - simultaneously serving as a 'tranquil' location away from the city, while also serving the dubious, cruel purpose of squirelling away would-be patients into residences away from the city - out of society, out of sight, out of mind.

in terms of jack seward himself, purfleet is a kind of an in-between, nothing place - things and people pass through, not much stays. (there's a reason why whitby is remembered as 'the dracula place', and not purfleet.) it's quite literally on the edge of london - of society - and in that scene where jack's looking despondently towards the sun setting west over london, his own isolation becomes palpable - from society and from the world as a whole. the endless, transient, liminal feel of the essex saltmarshes just....gives the vibe. this was a scene that felt particularly gothic to me - jack is the custodian of his very own haunted house, here, in all its bleak, isolated glory.

It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realise all the grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all.

this is an fascinating parallel with the count's situation in transylvania, which is NOT the topic du jour here so i'll stop before i ramble but compelling nonetheless! like the count, though, he's a liminal figure - in london, but not quite in london. in the group, but not in the group. alive, but not really living. wide awake in the witching hour, unsure how to re-integrate with society.

it's also worth noting that the opening of dickens' great expectations has pip in his childhood home on the kent marshes - which would pretty much be the opposite bank of the thames from purfleet. in great expectations, pip's village serves a similar role - the quiet, bleak, nowhere-place directly placed against the bustling cosmopolis of london.

in terms of other characters and locations, i've written a bit before about jonathan (and mina possibly) hailing from exeter, devon, in the south west of england - which is much further from london.

jonathan and mina, in terms of the group dynamics, are outsiders: they're very much lower middle class, hyper-aware of the importance of money and societal etiquette as a means for survival and social betterment. this is a personal hc of mine, but i like to think of jonathan as having the long supressed remnants of a devon accent. south west accents are often the subject of a lot of ridicule and mockery in the UK (akin to a southern US accent) and hiding that regionalism, in both the 1890s and today's britain, would be a means of survival and progress for him - i think the fact that he's always given a standard home counties RP accent in adaptations cuts out a major aspect of his character. he's a devon boy!

in contrast to all this, lucy's hampstead residence shows her affluence. it, too, at risk of breaking my social isolation metaphor, was on the edge of london at the time - but was known more as a wealthy suburb with huge areas of greenery at hampstead heath and highgate. there's something to be said, though, about a place like highgate cemetery - a liminal place between the dead and the living, between city and country, haunted at night by a vampire - and the same could be said for purfleet.

arthur is hard to pin down - for the life of me i CANNOT work out where 'ring' is supposed to be - at first i thought it might be a shortening for ringwood, hampshire, which could work! but i just don't know. his character does scream privileged southern/home counties though, and if anyone has any followups on 'ring' and its wherabouts i would LOVE to know because this has been bugging me for ages. lmao

tl;dr, psychology and sociology as informed by place is SO fucking fascinating to me like it just. it affects so much. from the liminality of certain places lending themselves to the supernatural, to characters being mirrored by their surroundings and vice versa, to the social implications of where you call home. it's just!!! interesting!!

#cw ableism #dracula #dracula daily #this is my disorganised magnum opus i wrote so much and deleted half bc it goes off-topic but there's so much.....#i grew up near the fringes of london myself and there's a certain transience to that kind of hinterland which i think you get w/ any city #my own personal hc for jack seward is that he was brought up in an isolated seaside town (harwich‚ maybe?) and went to university in london #before continuing his education in amsterdam #also i like that harwich has a DIRECT ship route to the netherlands....thinking.....thoughts..#while writing this i was doing some research and now i have many seward hometown thoughts god.#[points to a puddle in a saltmarsh] this is jack seward. to me

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wundrousarts · 7 months

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Hi folks! It seems like people are discovering that there are people online who write some WEIRD! 👎 stuff for Nevermoor. Some tips and tricks for dealing with that:

Don't engage. Don't read the fics. Don't even comment to say how much you hate it.

Don't spread it around. It's gross as hell, I know! But being like "ew, guys, I found this gross fic" just means you're causing more people to seek out said gross fic, and that's just not great. If you don't want to see it, no one else wants to either.

If you can: block, mute, or filter. I don't really use any fanfic sites to know if these functionalities exist, but I'm sure people online have found ways. Edit: here's a way to do it on Ao3.

TL;DR: Ignore, Ignore, Ignore. 👍

(PS: Same thing goes for when people send weird inappropriate anon messages. Just delete them from your inbox and don't subject others to them.)

This is unfortunately something that's been present for years in the fandom, on both Ao3 and Wattpad. This is also why I essentially don't read Nevermoor fics unless they're for Mogtober, and even then I'm cautious. I have seen some weird stuff written about my favorite characters that I wish I could pluck from my brain and set on fire, or worse! But when I stumble across that stuff, I just quickly close the tab and pivot to something else to get my mind off of it.

We should not entertain these types of people in a fandom full of minors about a middle grade series, so: just don't engage with them, ignore them, filter them out, and maybe even drown them out with some fics of your own.

#good talk 👍#nevermoor #nevermoor fandom #nevermoor fanfic #why oh why does this fandom attract the occasional weirdo.#I'd be using stronger language when talking abt these types of folks but i'd prob get banned.#as an adult in this fandom I feel I have a responsibility to keep folks safe from weirdos 👍 i've banned folks on discord + i'd do it again #years ago there was a weird af fic on ao3 that I noticed folks were kudos'ing and I had to be like. hey guys pls don't do that 😭#unfortunately ao3 moderation and rules are NONEXISTENT!!! so there's nothing ppl can do except the stuff above :/#and I wouldn't know abt wattpad bc I went on there once to see what mogtober stuff ppl wrote and was horrified and noped out of there 😬#anyways. all the more reason to participate in mogtober. so everyone's writing stuff in order to bury the gross stuff. creation for a cause #(and bc mogtober is fun and everyone should participate. lol)#soz for the psa folks but I deemed it necessary 🤷 feel free to enjoy the art I just posted as well #just been on the internet toooo long and don't like the thought or reality of young folks being exposed in any way to this kind of stuff. 😕#couldn't figure out where to fit this emoji in so here: 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢. thats me and my constant feeling whenever this stuff pops up again. 😑

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oatbugs · 4 months

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Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

#saw carnation lily lily rose by john singer seargent irl today. it was basically at my doorstep all along idk why i never went to see it #it was placed at a corner in the gallery. me and my friend sat down and sketched the paintings of beautiful naked people quite badly. paper #provided by tate britain. she told me about how she couldnt look her boyfriend in the face after a harrowing film about war. when i say the #interview was informal i mean the person who was supposed to be my boss told me let me get you a cider and then he said after #50 years of life he knows people are inherently good and it only takes a little bit of kindness to save this world. he said he tricked #his wife into keeping the baby and then he said he quit his job at a US bank to help people find meaning and in it #he would have liked to find meaning. instead he started climbing with his friends. he said he chews his cigarettes because its a habit from #when he had to hide things from people. the entire time i felt uncomfortable and incredibly enlightened. this is my friends mentor. she has #his pattern of pauses and expletive and penchant for ends-justify-means attitude. i do think im not very clever #but maybe one day i will love you enough to make up for it. i wrote code i dont understand staring at the final error i thought about how #we both thought of how when we're too old to remember the voices of our friends we would like to stand in the pathway of the LHC beam pipe #cut it open and eat light in the freezing cold vacuum (kills you long before radiation will) the invisible puncture wound unfolding dna #back to the start larger than you ever were. you go to heaven once youve been to hell. my friend is in my bed #practicing calculations of eigenvectors by hand and she is uninterested in a visual proof you are uninterested in incompetence #we catch a train this is your kind of burden you tragic hero wincing at that word you only do this because you have to. im the only one #who can. i am a coward in this for the fucking poetry. the visual proofs. the pretty numbers. an architect who was horrible at maths wanted #to be a philosopher and accidentally ended up neck in deep in 70th Error On Visual Studio Code i want to kiss your eyes before we say #goodbye we both know there is no love in the way there should be. I still have your dress in my wardrobe. i hope you make art.#you think im alright head-wise i think you fucking hate me i think ill never be so clever you want me to tell you my idea?#if you wanted more of this world i would have liked to kiss you harder. we cant both be like this. im sorry i cant be with you the whole wa #the love is gone if you have to ask it. his breath catches his eyes feel stiff it is -1.9 kelvin he is near the beam pipe i miss holding #his hand i miss her singing voice i miss his hair and i found the antonym of pain thank you for carrying me home.

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 7 months

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Day 6: Show/Fear

Prompt List

Pt. 5 of The Empire of Samadhi AU

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 (you are here) | Pt. 6

(This is day 6 of the Monkie Destiny Challenge Prompt Month October 2023)

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Red Son is the son of an old empire, Mei is the daughter of a new one. Red Son, consumed by fire, was put into an induced stasis sleep to stop the world from burning until his family can find a way to safely remove the fire. They find a way but he never wakes up. Hundreds of years later he awakes to discover his power resides within another as she stares at him with wide eyes on fire.

Welcome to the Show.

(This one’s a bit of a spookier one in light of this festive All Hallows’ Eve month. So warning for some mild body horror and creepy description. Please check the tags if you want more detail)

Their landing was awkward.

Red Son ended up at the bottom of the pile with his face pressed into the floor with the other two on top of him. He knew immediately the destination was wrong when he felt wooden floorboards rather than dusty ash against his cheek.

They had landed somewhere they weren’t supposed to.

“Get off.” Red Son attempted to throw the two mortals off him and was kicked in the face twice by Mk before he managed to shove them both off onto the floor. “Idiots.”

He lifted his head to look around and found they’d landed in a theatre of some kind. It was empty but the lights were on, bringing a warm sort of atmosphere.

“Uh,” said Mei, with Mk draped over her lap like a limp rag-doll. “Hey, Samadhi Sifu… I think you took a wrong turn.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Red Son spat. “Some idiot hijacked my portal.” He pushed himself to his feet, cursing under his breath. “They never would have been able to do so if I was at my full strength.” He straightened up after brushing small bits of gold dust from that shattered plate off his hanfu. It didn’t matter much due to the fact it was already covered in soot, but that couldn’t be helped. Merciful Buddha, he wanted a bath.

“Ow,” said Mk, like he was the one who had gotten kicked in the face. Mei patted his back.

Red Son glanced around the theatre. It was mostly built from wood. At first glance it appeared to be new, but the closer he looked the more blemishes and broken things there were. It was an old theatre. The curtains were threadbare. There were chips in the wood. The lanterns only lit the space dimly, just bright enough to create shadows without really lighting all that much. All the seats faced a massive white screen at the head of the room. It reminded Red Son of a shadow puppet screen, only much, much bigger.

“We’ve got another thirty minutes here until my spell kicks back in,” Red Son said, glancing around for the doors or at least some sort of exit. He heard shuffling behind him and turned to see Mk falling off of Mei’s lap and face down onto the floor before popping back up, sitting cross-legged next to her.

“Well, at least there’s no spooky monkey here,” Mei said.

Upon being reminded of what exactly they’d been, not running, but retreating from, Red Son’s ire at whoever had portal-jacked him was washed over and drowned out by a very different sort of feeling.

Mk and Mei seemed content to stay on the ground as Red Son started to pace in front of them. He muttered under his breath.

Mk looked pale. Red Son had no doubt he’d be looking even paler if he’d known just who had been reaching for him.

Red Son feared nothing. Not death, not life, and no living being.

But his hands were shaking.

From the cold, he hissed to himself through gritted teeth. He would never have been shaking if he had his fire. He wouldn’t be so vulnerable if he had it. The white lady hadn’t seemed like a threat at first. She seemed a mild annoyance at best. He couldn’t sense any massive power coming from her, so how did she manage to get to him? He needed to rethink. Reevaluate. He needed to think. He needed to get his fire back or they were going to die.

“Well, well! That was quite a show!”

Red Son’s head snapped back to look where the voice was coming from. It seemed to bounce and echo over the walls, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. Shadows seemed to tilt, getting darker, stretching further.

Mei was on her feet in an instance, Mk scrambling up close behind her, staggering a lot more.

The shadows seemed to converge on the stage, onto the screen rising up like ink until a shape was painted across it and then received form.

It was a shadow puppet.

A monkey. Merciful Buddha, Red Son had seen enough monkeys already today. Its mouth had been cut into a wide, unnerving smile, stretching over nearly half its face.

"I see you all met the Lady Bone Demon's puppet.” The puppet slumped sideways, limp, head tilting to almost upside down. It was strange. It moved in a way shadow puppets normally didn’t, to Red Son’s knowledge.

Red Son scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “You look more like the puppet here.”

“Oho!” said the shadow puppet. “Good-” it flipped, revealing its other side, where the only difference was there was an slashed X in the place its eyes should have been, “--eye.” The puppet laughed. It doubled over with shrieking laughter at an awkward angle that didn’t look right.

Red Son found himself recoiling a bit. The thing sounded insane. Granted not as insane as him when he laughed, his cackle was much more impressive.

Out of the corner of his eye Red Son saw Mk grab Mei’s arm.

“Mei,” Mk said, his voice slightly shaky, urgent, “that sounds like-”

“I know,” Mei said, her voice grave, on edge.

“What are you two talking about?” Red Son snapped.

“Is that the Dragon Heir I see?” The puppet twisted itself as though it were hanging upside down from a branch. Sure enough the shadow of a tree rose up to assist the illusion. “And another puppet!” Its smile looked almost thrilled looking at Mk. “Isn't this all just so interesting? But who’s the third? I’ve never seen you before.” It dropped back down, into more of an animalistic, unnatural crawl. The shadow seemed to grow bigger as it crawled towards them, but it never moved off the screen.

“Who I am is none of the business of the likes of you,” Red Son said. “You know very well who you brought here. So cut the theatrics and state your business or we will burn your little theatre to the ground and you along with it.”

The puppet seemed to find that very funny, laughing and twisting. Red Son could feel something in the wood of this place. Something in the shadows growing thicker and moving.

“Oh, but the show is the best part!”

Mk cried out.

Red Son spun around to see shadows wrapping around his ankles and wrists. They lashed out around his arms binding him tightly and then pulled before any of them could react.

“Mk!” Mei yelled, reaching for him. She grabbed his wrist just before he was pulled into the shadows.

The rings lit. Mei practically spat out fire. “Let go of him.”

“There’s the famous fire!” The puppet seemed to smile wider, bigger, it sounded like it was a twisted form of excitement. “What a performance you gave that day!”

The strands of shadow snapped when Mei’s fire neared it and she caught Mk before pulling him to his feet.

“Mei,” said Mk, clinging to her.

“I know,” said Mei. “It's him.”

“What are you two peasants talking about-”

“You know,” said the puppet, drawing their attention, “really, it was rather impressive how you played right into her hands, bud.” It walked across the screen, but this time it continued off it, onto the wall. The laughter echoed.

For a moment Red Son thought the shadow was talking to Mei, but then Mei was stepping in front of Mk and shielding him with her arm, flames flickering dangerously above her.

“Mk had nothing to do with it,” Mei snapped.

The puppet laughed again, tumbling through shadows and bouncing from one place to the other around the room. It bent in unnatural directions. “Nothing? Nothing? He caused this.”

Red Son had to admit, he was curious. Curious as to how the man half-cowering behind Mei was responsible for… well, it was rather hard to understand what the puppet was referring to.

“I didn’t,” said Mk, but he didn't sound very confident about it.

“Do you think she would have gotten your precious friends if it weren’t for you? You think she would have gotten to your pathetic Sifu without your help?”

“He’s not pathetic!” Mk shouted at it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“All your second chances, all your do-good kindness lead to this. If it weren’t for you the Lady Bone Demon would have never gotten her hands on the rings.”

“But,” said Mk, his voice small, “I didn’t do anything…”

“And you think that’s a good thing?” The puppet laughed far too much in Red Son’s opinion. It lost its effectiveness after a while. At least on him. Mei and Mk just looked more and more unsettled and anxious. “You and your Master, so alike. Neither of you said anything to each other, did you?”

“What is he talking about?” Red Son asked, looking at Mk curiously.

Mk shrunk back from his gaze.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mei said. “Whatever happened doesn’t matter. So you better shut your mouth, Liú.”

The puppet stood for a moment, frozen still. Then it’s head snapped off the wall to look at Mei.

It became less of a shadow and more of a tangible thing. Its eyes were lifeless, its skin was more alive looking than a puppets should be. It had lace designs stretching across its skin in dark cracks across its skin. Its mouth stretched just as wide, but despite its upward tilting motion it didn’t look like it was smiling. It didn’t look completely like an object nor completely alive, some mix of both. Red Son could see both its eyes at once now, the slashed X over one of them looking like a gaping black hole. Its one eye was a pinprick amongst a pool, just as black, its pupil surrounded by a ring of purple.

“You’re cursed,” Red Son realized.

Its head snapped to look at him and Red Son felt frozen in place by it. The weight was nowhere near that of his fire contained in the rings above Mei’s head. But it was uncomfortable all the same. This thing in front of him was twisted and wrong and there was a lack of sanity in its one working eye that made it feel as though something would snap at any second. It looked as though it should be twitching but all it did was stay deathly still, not breathing but very clearly alive.

“Not our problem,” Red Son forced out, despite the way the words tried to lodge in his throat with the things one eye on him. “Dragon Girl, we’re leaving.”

“There’s no doors,” Mei muttered.

Red Son whipped his head around to check. And she was right. He hadn’t realized it at first, but there were no doors, no windows, no holes or cracks in the wall to slip through.

There was no way out.

It was a claustrophobic feeling. But Red Son wasn’t about to let a sealed room intimidate him.

“Very well then. Let us make one.”

“I can’t let you leave,” said the puppet that Mei called Liú. “They’ll come soon.”

“Elder Liú,” said Mk, “we can help you.”

“I can’t let you leave,” it said again, its mouth moving with the words unlike its shadow had when it spoke before. It was a horrifying sight. Shadows moved behind them, creeping closer. “I can’t let you leave. I can’t let you leave. I can’t let you leave-”

Red Son snorted. “You can’t stop us.”

It just kept repeating it over and over again, ignoring him. The shadows stretched higher. They curled over top of them. Red Son watched them creep out of the wall, wrapping around the puppet, over its mouth and face and dragging it back into the wall.

“Guys,” Mei said, glancing at her feet. “I think we’re in trouble here.”

“Then use my fire,” Red Son said through gritted teeth.

“Oh yeah,” Mei said, “right.” She shook off the shadows that had started to cling to her foot and the rings blazed brighter above her.

“Wait! Stop!” said Mk.

“What?” Mei said. Then yelped, because a shadow lashed out and wrapped around her arm.

One latched around Red Son’s leg and the shadows suddenly seemed a lot thicker and stronger than before.

“They’re shadows,” Mk said. “The more light you give them the stronger they’ll be.”

“How does that make sense?”

“Just look, the more light there is, the more shadow can be seen. Unless we could get enough light to get rid of every shadow, more light would just be making it worse.”

“Then what’s your suggestion,” Red Son snapped, clawing at the shadow that had attached itself to his wrist.

“Less light,” Mk said. “They can’t touch us if there’s no shadows to shape in the dark. We need to break the lanterns.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Red Son said.

“Do you think I have enough control over these rings to light up a whole room?” Mei asked.

Red Son did not think that.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Fine,” Red Son snapped. He snatched some fire away from Mei. The shadows had crept up to his hips now, wrapping and slowly sludging further up. He burnt some off his wrist so his hand was free. “Aim for the lanterns.”

Mei missed twice. Red Son’s feeble second-hand fire couldn’t reach very far but the sparks landed and managed to light the lantern.

“No,” the voice echoed, “what are you doing? Stop- stop I can’t exist without them-”

“It's okay, Elder Liú,” Mk said, “we’ll get you out of here.”

“Stop!”

“Ugh,” said Red Son, straining against the shadows that were now up to his shoulders. “You’re disgustingly reassuring, aren’t you.”

“I try,” Mk said. He was trying to hide it but Red Son could hear the panic in his voice.

The last lamp went out, burned to nothing, but light still remained.

“Dragon Girl, the rings.”

Mei cursed.

“Mei-” Mk’s voice was cut off as the shadows wrapped around his mouth and started dragging him down.

“Mk!”

“THE RINGS!” Red Son yelled at her.

“I GOT IT,” Mei roared back.

The shadows wrapped around Red Son’s mouth and started pulling.

The rings flickered.

“NO!” the puppet appeared in front of Mei’s face, reaching.

All at once the light went out.

Red Son fell flat on the floor, followed by two thumps.

“HA!” said Mk. “I told you! How can you get grabbed by something when you’re already in it! It's like swimming!”

“Water has currents that can grab you,” Red Son snapped at him.

“Shadows aren’t tangible like water.”

“You make less sense the more you talk.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Mk huffed.

“Woo! Mk!” Mei cheered. “I’m gonna see that last bit in my nightmares! Haha! Where’d Old Liú go anyway?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” Mk said. “Let me check.”

There was a moment of shuffling and silence in the pitch black. Then Mk’s bright voice came.

“Found him! He’s small now. Looks like a real shadow puppet.”

“What? How can you see?”

“Huh, I wonder if we could un-curse him like how we unpossessed Mk,” Mei said, ignoring Red Son’s question.

“He feels like he’s made out of dry stuff,” Mk said. “I don’t know if it's safe to try.”

“Just give him to me,” Red Son scoffed, blinding feeling around for Mk. “I’ll seal him in so he won’t jump back out the moment there’s shadows to jump from if you’re both so worried about it. You can figure out what to do with this thing later. We’re going to be pulled back any minute now.”

Red Son heard a sound that took him a moment to place as Mk’s muffled laughter.

“What? What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing,” Mk said. “Here, hold still, I'll hand him to you.”

Red Son sighed and held out his hand impatiently.

He could feel Mk standing in front of him, hesitating.

“What now?” he groaned.

“Just… be careful with him. Don’t hurt him okay?” Mk finally handed him over.

“Whatever,” said Red Son, casting the spell to seal the puppet in its current form. “He’s none of my concern, living or dead.”

Mk didn’t reply to that, but he could practically feel his worry.

“There,” Red Son said, shoving him back at him. “He won’t be any trouble for now.”

“Great,” said Mei. “So do we need to talk about why Liú looks like a monkey? Or…?”

The ground lit up underneath them.

Mk yelped, his face illuminated and rushed to stuff the small shadow-puppet into his hanfu.

The room lit up in flames.

| beginning | next |

#ngl i thought this one was longer #it probably would be if i went back and edited it but i wrote this in one sitting and i aint' going back so here you go #no pov switches this time huh! wild!#i guess its cause its so sort #Monkie Destiny Challenge (2023)#KNOX WRITES (me)#Monkie Kid the Empire of Samadhi AU #Monkie Kid Mei #Monkie Kid Red Son #Spoilery for the fic here's the description read the fic first if you'd like it to be a surprise:#basically Macaque is a puppet. kind of a mix between living and not and there's some description around that jerky movements and the like #its not too bad but still figured i'd slap a heads up in here #i probably forgot to do something but EH ITS FINE I'VE FOCUSED ON THIS TOO LONG ALREADY PEACE OUT REMEMBER TO HYDRATE

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moongothic · 5 months

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Crocodile having such an explosive debut in his early 20s and such deep trust issues could also point to him having an even EARLIER start a la Shanks as an apprentice or something to an older pirate and their crew as a child/teenager — doubling down on the humiliation factor from facing off whitebeard as also a failure to “come of age” and broader sense of betrayal in watching eager encouragement fickly turn to “what did you THINK would happen”s like the kid who gets egged on by their peers into doing something dangerous and then immediately abandoned when they hurt themselves

Can't say if he did have like an early start for sure, since we really don't know anything about Crocodile's early childhood

But simply considdering how Oda typically layers backstories, I absolutely agree, I do think it's more than likely he has somekind of pre-Whitebeard trauma, be it either unrelated childhood trauma or early-pirating-life trauma (or something else)

Like the way Oda structures backstories, although we always remember like The Big Life-Changing Tragedy that happens at the end of the flashback, more often than not the flashback already begins with something horrible to indicate the character's already had a rough life

Robin was already alone, abused and rejected by most of Ohara even before the Buster Call Incident (followed by a life of running in fear for decades)

Franky had already been abandoned by his family before he lost Tom and got ran over by a train

Law had already lost his entire family before Doffy killed Rosi

Etc etc. Like not all the flashbacks are entirely like this, especially the East Blue-saga ones, but the backstories have been growing in complexity and structure, adding layers to the tragedies (like 🧅 onions 🧅) as the story has gone on

And with Kuma, his backstory doesn't end at two layers of tragedy. Like there's the early childhood tragedy of slavery, then there's the tragedy of losing his loved one in the most cruel, inhumane way possible, and we know there's at least one more gut-punch of a tragedy coming in the next two chapters to finish it all off

So with Crocodile especially I feel like... Like yes, possibly getting betrayed once in his life and having his dreams crushed by Whitebeard could break the man's psyche. But considdering just how seemingly broken his psyche might be, I do absolutely believe there's more layers here. Like his trust must've been broken more than once for him to end up the way he has.

Which alone gives Crocodad a bit more plausibility in my mind, because being rejected by the person you loved and trusted the most would most certainly break your heart (even if it was understandable why). And that really would make for a fine Final Nail on the Coffin for Crocodile's ability to have faith in others

But to really get that broken trust to be an on-going theme in his life that just happens again and again.... yeah it needs to start earlier

Personally, I think some kind of early childhood trauma would make the most sense, at least to me, not just because it could help Crocodile get started "on the wrong foot", but also because Rough Childhoods is just. A General Theme in One Piece lmao. Of course, it wouldn't be The Key Life-Changing Tragedy (I think Dragon would be that), just a "bad start"

#Moon posting #OP Meta #OP Spoilers #Sir Crocodile #Crocodad #Honestly this is kind of why I ended up becoming fond of the ''Croc is 1/4th merman'' idea #'Cause it really would like. Lay the basic groundwork for what's to come without it being like. IDK too much?#IDK I wrote a whole separate post about that not gonna go over the whole thing again #Other and one more plausible option was that he was just a really queer kid from the start and was bullied to hell and back for it #Dude just wanted to play pirates with the boys and kiss girls and everyone thought he was weird for it because he was a ''girl''#And somehow being called that stung but for reasons he couldn't understand (if Crocodad Real then he didn't Figure It Out until 27)#((Crocodile just seems bisexual as hell to me leave me be))#((I'm entitled to my unfounded bullshit headcanons until Oda gives us canon))#Alternatively if Crocodile WAS Xebec's kid then knowing his dad got ditched by Whitebeard and co would definitely leave An Impression #Especially if he ended up stranded and alone after God Valley #(...Unless... Whitebeard adopted him??? Which would be a very Whitebeard-y thing to do???????????)#((IDK I'm not into the Xebec theory)) ((It's plausible but it just doesn't spark joy for me))#((IDK I would prefer if he just kind of had a ''chill'' childhood kind of like the ASL bros had)) ((Just far lonelier))#((Especially since loneliness is such a key factor in so many characters and why they are the way they are))#((It's just that everyone else was able to find companionship somewhere eventually (be it thru Luffy or otherwise) but Croc didn't))#There's so many options and ideas on what could've happened we could stay here all day #Regardless of what it is- I'm sure Something Happened. Just gotta wait for Oda to tell us what #Asks

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skitskatdacat63 · 7 months

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Boy King Seb :D

#thank you to Grace for the idea of making his chivarly collar red bull instead <33333 #he was gonna have both collars but then making that one made me suffer so no not today #this was a lot of fun but also made me suffer. but i keep looking at it and being like AAAHHHHH BABY!!! BABY BOY!!!!!!!#can you believe i tried to do this in one night? i cant #i stopped and came back to it and was like 'no way you could do this in one sitting at 1 am'#this is kinda the ascended form of that very first sketch i made for this au! concentrated boy king sebby!!!#i say to myself i need to take a break from drawing complicated things but youll prob see a nando version of this in less than a week ;;;#okay about the drawing(i wrote good tags and then tumblr deleted them so these are a bit inferior AGH):#this is typical pouty seb but is also referenced off a specific pic from AD 2009(beloved)#its very important to me how emotionally open Seb is. im not sure the specific context of this. maybe after a triumph?#but instead of being that typical stoic serious detached kind of ruler; i like him being openly emotional(think AD 2010)#its important as well for his dichotomy with nando and how they choose to portray themselves #seb is very assured in himself and his rule vs. nando who is more insecure and bitter about his #so nando takes strides to portray himself in that more stoic calculating way bcs he feels like it helps him legitimize himself better #whereas seb has absolutely no care for outward public image and shows how he feels and is loved for it(nando hates it but loves it)#not that nando cant be fun and whimsical!! but to me he always seems a bit more mysterious; like i can never tell his true thoughts tbh #anyways i feel like ill finish 10 more drawings before i end up posting the lore pt 2 LMAO #its just a lot harder to organize and layout compared to part 1 which was just an explanation #pt2 would be a mix of more world building/characterization/anecdotes ive talked about with mutuals(LOVE YOU GUYS!!!)#i have a *lot* of ideas (gotta whip out my notes app every once in a while to write down stuff abt it) just hard to put into a coherent pos #sebastian vettel #f1 #formula 1 #f1 art #formula 1 art #f1 fanart #formula 1 fanart #catie.art.#*ill prob make a process post later if anyone is curious!! its fun to write abt my process and influences and such #boy king au

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novelconcepts · 6 months

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more and more it's feeling like we just...don't have room for people trying anymore. it's all or nothing; get it right the first time, or be crucified by a jury you can never fully see or convince. and this isn't new, isn't born of current events. it's become more and more prevalent over the last ten years thanks to social media putting every little thought on blast, but i'd put money on the idea that it's actually been brewing much longer than that. and, for me, it goes beyond being tiring or upsetting. it feels bleak. it feels downright fucking broken that we're all so busy trying not to condone anything remotely problematic that we don't leave room for good faith learning. watching people trying to suss out their own identity--something literally ONLY they can fully understand or explain--be vilified for trying to fit words around their own experience sucks. watching people misunderstand something and try to apologize for it later, only to be told they should have known all along, sucks. seeing people who once held truly toxic beliefs actually grow and learn and apologize and still be told to fuck themselves as if they're a lost cause--it sucks. just. does that not fill you with despair for the state of things? does that not break something in you, to think that if you one day don't understand something, or misuse a word, or grapple with complicated feelings, it will forever stain you in the eyes of perfect strangers?

dude the world is fucked, and we all see it, but like. it doesn't feel like it helps to be so goddamn reactive. it doesn't feel like it helps anyone to demand perfection out the gate. it's exhausting. there are enough people out there who don't want to learn, who aren't trying, who actively revel in cruelty. looking for malice in every little fuck-up from people who seem to be genuinely striving to live their lives with kindness strikes me as lending strength to an army that already glories in suffering. and makes the world look more fucked than ever. and i really don't know that that energy is what we need when there's already so much to set right.

maybe it's just me. maybe this last decade just shattered something in me. but i really, really hate the idea--reject the idea, frankly--that people can't learn and change and grow. that people can't be better than a bad day or a failure of understanding. i reject the idea that people are something to be thrown out because they fucked up. it just seems...yeah. bleak. really fuckin' bleak.

#personal #i dunno dude #this is that fighting energy from earlier. found some actual words for it i guess #but i'm just so tired #shit's fucked. some shit's complicated. and some isn't--some feels incredibly straightforward to me.#and to the next person maybe there's more nuance. it's all so fucking...there's so much to process all the time #and i catch myself in knee-jerk mode #i catch myself writing people off. making lists in my head. sometimes it's just purely a matter of safety #but god the things i'd give for some of those people to come back into my world #to learn. to grow. to apologize. to decide they value kindness and life over brainwashed beliefs #i would give so much for those friends back. those family members. those people i knee-jerk wrote off back in 2015 #i shrunk my world down when i cut them out. i shrunk it down when i told them to fuck off instead of having a conversation #i actively made my safety net smaller in the effort to keep myself protected #and i just keep watching other people do similar things #and thinking like. if i could go back. if i wasn't so hot-headed and Certain that evil thoughts make a person evil #or that miseducation or ignorance or straight-up brainwashing broke a person for good #maybe it would all be different now than it was for my 25-year-old self #i just. i don't fucking know.#people are trying. people need to KEEP trying.#and telling them they're shit for NEEDING to try is only ever going to carve out the part of them that wants to be better #the world is fucked. why help fuck it even more. what is the point of that.#and i'm not saying don't call people on their shit. but maybe calling them shouldn't look like telling them to kill themselves #maybe it should involve a little grace #slamming doors just feels like it makes the house smaller. and shuts off exit routes you might need later #and i kinda wish i'd known that in my 20s

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