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silvanils · 4 years

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Knight Plays: Pillars of Eternity

Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV

It’s time to have fun storming this castle!

Or not, these enemies are pretty strong and Bryn keeps getting knocked out. It would help if he was better at flanking, but NO, he’s got to keep drawing fire. (I’ll have to see if there’s a way to tweak this mechanic but if not, OH WELL, he’s becoming another disaster rogue.)

Ah, the statue talks. I feel like this isn’t actually “normal” even in this setting, but normal has been thrown out the window, hasn’t it?

OOF. Something Very Bad happened here. I’m getting major cursed vibes from this whole castle and I wonder if we’re going to have to find a way to lift that / purify this place.

It seems like this is a very “grey” situation where people kept making things worse with how they retaliated...

Ah, the Old Watcher... I don’t think he’s going to be much help to Bryn in his state. If anything, he’s making Bryn more worried about what HIS fate will be in the end. Yikes.

(Actually, his whole backstory is a BIG “yikes.” I feel bad for him, and hope that sort of thing isn’t what Bryn has to look forward to.)

After killing him, the game gave a choice about what to do with his soul and while the GAMER part of me wanted to absorb the knowledge, Bryn just wanted to cut the soul loose and let it go. It’s what he’d want if he was in that man’s place, so. That’s that.

Oddly enough, though, Bryn feels ok about “inheriting” the castle. I feel like he doesn’t have much in the way of roots anywhere and being told “this place wants you” is a mutual feeling - he wants to make this place his own, too.

But that’ll have to wait until I have more money, whoops. And everyone needs rest so I need to find an inn soon (I’m very low on camp supplies and want to save them...)

Aloth’s commentary during and after this quest has me thinking he might be a Watcher, too. Come to think of it, he had a rather interesting reaction to finding out Bryn was one. HM. The Old Watcher switched how he talked, too, so... I wonder.

I wouldn’t blame him for keeping it secret, though. People here don’t seem to like “abnormal” folks.

Heading south toward the Big City, the party meets another friend! Who has an EXTRA friend?! (I like this lady already, she seems cool.)

Poor lady got swindled by a fake Watcher? Bryn’s first response is “well, maybe I can help you! I’m a REAL one!” and she called him out on that being a bad thing to tell someone who just told that kind of story, haha.

Edér jumping in to say “you’d believe him if you saw how he stares at dead things” made me laugh. Thanks for having my back, buddy.

And the city is just a hop and a skip away now -

Wait, Act I is finished?! Uh... whoops? I meant to go clean up quests in Gilded Vale before moving ahead in the story too much, so if the Act change makes me miss stuff I’ll... just have to reload to my hard save before talking to Sagani.

And a quick rest and fast travel later, it seems like I can still do all the things in Gilded Vale. GOOD. Especially since I just figured out the hold-tab to see stuff you can interact with trick (I keep forgetting that exists in these sorts of games, OOPS.)

Wrapped up a bunch of the mini-quests here, got some neat equipment (omg Larder Door?! PLEASE) and noticed people with weird names can have their souls stared into. What.

(Also... STROM BRIGHTBLADE? That name gave me flashbacks to my Dragonlance reading days...)

With a full party, this temple is... really pretty easy, welp. Not that I mind. Their commentary is neat. Sagani finally believing Bryn is a Watcher is made more funny by every single other companion piping up with their two cents about how “you’ll get used to this eventually.” Really? Even Aloth has only known me for what, three or four days?

(In all seriousness, though, it’s sweet how quickly they have come to like and trust Bryn despite his... oddity. Or perhaps BECAUSE of it?)

Oh. Yikes. The descriptions of what happened in this back room are... mm. Surprisingly dark and graphic. And Bryn’s not too pleased that he was lied to, either. :T

I didn’t think I COULD like Edér more than I already did, but I DO. I’m actually tearing up a little, hearing his story about his rite. “It’s good to see the candles are still burning.” Yeah, it would be.

Bryn’s been hearing both sides to a lot of these conflicts and they’re all so messy. Ugh. He’s not pleased with this man, but he seems genuine in his desire to make amends so... Bryn told him to go do that.

He’s earning a good reputation and has some earned some disposition points in Benevolence, Honesty, Diplomacy, and... Passion. Ha, nice.

And now I have another castle to storm. I don’t like the sound of this Lord Raedric guy.

To be continued... later...

#;knight plays #pillars of eternity

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clericbyers · 5 years

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first time

here’s the second prompt anon since I could not resist

There’s this new fangled thing called a “flashbulb” memory that makes its way from high academia into the public school system. Mike has heard his sister blab about it over dinner for some odd reason he can’t remember. She said it was an extremely vivid and detailed snapshot of a moment when something consequential or emotional arousing occurs. Mike doesn’t quite understand it exactly—he’s smart but Nancy is using bigger words like she wants to give him difficulty with understanding her—but he thinks he gets the jist.

It’s kind of like what Will’s brother does with his photography but instead of physical photos being developed, it’s a memory you can always recall in deep detail.

Mike didn’t really think much of it after the fact. Nancy always tries to sound smarter than usual at the dinner table anyway. He asked Dustin and Lucas about it and they didn’t say much outside of thinking it was kind of a weird topic. Will though thought the idea that memories could be stored like photos was awesome.

“You know, sometimes I draw my memories, too,” he whispered to Mike late one night in the sleepy emptiness filling the basement. “If it’s really impactful, you know? I just have to draw it out even though I know I’ll always remember.”

Mike hummed sleepily and curled up closer to his friend. Will was warm and small and Mike enjoyed hearing his voice. “Mm, what memories have you drawn?”

“When we won our first campaign together.” Will played with a string unraveling from his sleeping bag. “The first sunset the four of us stayed outside to watch when we sat on the roof of your house.”

Mike laughed at that. “Wow, I barely remember that. You have an incredible memory, Will.” He closed his eyes and let loose a deep sigh. “You should show me those pictures.”

“Ah, I—yeah. Yeah, I can show you some.” Will sounded nervous and it made Mike’s eyes slither open to look over at his friend.

“Some? Are there others you don’t wanna share?”

“No! No, no, I want to show you everything. Just,” his green eyes looked down before turning back to Mike with a smile, “I’m nervous. I’ve never shown anyone else.”

It was a mostly subconscious action but Mike reached out to take the hand Will was using to pull at thread into his own. Mike squeezed twice and let his hand go limp in a loose grip. “You know I’ll love whatever you draw. That’s what friends are for. To love their friend’s art.”

Will laughed airly. “I’m pretty sure there’s more to it than that.”

“Yeah, well, I wanna love your art so lemme do that, alright?”

“Okay.”

And when Mike woke up still holding hands with Will, he didn’t think much of it even though his heart was a little fuzzy in his chest and he wondered why it didn’t feel so weird to hold his best friend’s hand while sleeping.

That night though wasn’t something Mike would have considered a flashbulb memory. It was a gentle memory that warmed his chest and drove him into the woods to search for WIll when he went missing. The idea of never being able to see Will again was too sickening to ignore. Mike could never accept that Will was dead even if a body was discovered. He would stop at nothing to insure Will was back home and safe, and tangible for Mike to hold and talk to and, well, love. But the latter wasn’t anything more than platonic in his mind. Will was his best friend as were Dustin and Lucas. If they had gone missing, Mike would have been just as ballistic about finding them.

In the year after Will’s return though, Mike found himself torn. He called for El, who helped him get back one of the most important people in his life, in hopes that he hadn’t sacrificed one person for another. He coddled Will, desperate for reassurance that Will was still here, that Will wasn’t dead or missing. The nightmares were terrible. He kept imagining jumping off the cliff and El not being there, dying only for Will to come back and discover Mike was no more. If it wasn’t the jump, then seeing El close the portal or hearing Will’s cries over the radio consumed his mind until he woke up gasping for air and reminding himself that all of that was over.

It was a rough year for everyone and it only grew worse once Dustin found Dart and the Mind Flayer began to take over Will. El returned, which was a joyous event for Mike, but it couldn’t overshadow the fact that Will was losing himself to a demon and the Party had to come up with a plan to destroy the tunnels and hopefully not kill Will in the process.

It turned out though that happy memories could help break Will out of the influence of the Mind Flayer. And it was one memory in particular that snapped Will and Mike out of a cloudy mist of denial that had been consuming their every interaction up until then. This moment here in the shed, standing face to face with an incapacitated Will and a single tear streaking down Mike’s cheek as he thought about what if Will dies tonight. Mike still isn’t sure if that first day in kindergarten is a flashbulb memory. It had emotional impact for him and sticks with him always but it was more so something he never wanted to forget so he remembered it vividly rather than something he couldn’t forget because his brain forced him to remember it vividly.

“Do you remember the first day we met?” he recalled with a wavering voice as the thought that this could be the last thing he ever says to Will. He tried not to think about how much this sounded like a confession. “It was...it was the first day of kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends and...I just felt so alone and so scared but,” Mike regathered his thoughts and powered through the emotions bubbling in his chest. He could visualize that day in his head so clearly like it was just earlier in the day instead of 8 years ago. “I saw you on the swings and you were alone, too. You were just swinging by yourself. And I walked up to you and...I asked.”

It was as if in slow motion, watching Will’s face struggle between the Mind Flayer’s influence and his true self trying to react to Mike’s memory. Mike hoped Will remembered, too; he wanted Will to always remember and if he couldn’t himself, then to remember Mike’s memory in its stead.

“I asked you if you wanted to be my friend. And you said yes.” Mike felt overwhelmed, throat tight as he still couldn’t believe that Will was willing to be his friend. Will willingly sided with the other loner kid on the playground when he could have found anyone else some other day. He stuck with Mike day-by-day as they blended together to become an inseparable duo. Inseparable until the Upside Down stole Will but Mike got him back and he wouldn’t let the Mind Flayer take Will away. No. It would not happen. Mike’s chest hurt just to think about how much his life changed by Will’s single word and how he could lose that change in a mere few seconds. “You said yes.”

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes; Will said yes and tied himself to Mike and Mike tied himself to Will and that tie could not be broken. Mike looked up into watery, green eyes and realized with a painful breath that Will was...Will was the best thing in his life. No, no. Not just Will, being Will’s best friend, taking that chance to befriend him, taking that chance to learn to love him. “It was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

And as the sobs wracked his body, Mike began to realize that maybe he wouldn’t have reacted as viscerally as he did with Will to Dustin and Lucas’ disappearances if they had been the ones to disappear. It wasn’t because he didn’t care or love them--he definitely would have still tried to find them and he did jump off a cliff to save Dustin--but Will was different. Will was always different.

This moment here with tears streaming down his face and the desperate mantra of don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t leave me racing through his addled mind brought Mike to the flashbulb memory inducing realization that maybe the difference with Will was found in Mike’s own feelings for him. And later, Will would reminded Mike that it’s simply not possible to love anyone as he loves Mike, much as Mike stated on this day that being with Will was the best thing he’d ever done. But that would take another year and another heartbreak.

For now, Mike had to focus on saving his friend in order to draw better memories together than the now memories he’d been battling against.

#mike wheeler #will byers #byler #byeler #yams answers #anon #yams writes #i stand by the fact that mike realized he loves will in the shed #and thus doubles down on his heterosexuality afterwards bc he cant quite accept it #he's totally down to go on movie dates with will #like he subconsciously wants to go on dates w him #but he cant bring himself to indulge without pretense #at this point i just want st4 to show us mike letting go of the barrier hes put up that blocks him from pursuing will #will basically said 'i'll wait for you to be ready'#and if st4 is really set in dec 86 then i think it'd be appropriate to show us ready!mike #anyway thank u anon!#otp: palaric

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ghostlyfacedream · 3 years

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um, good morning. or afternoon here, i guess. it's 1:25 pm. i'm going to start a diary. even if it's not official or fancy or well thought out. even if it's short blips here and there when i have a thought to share. i need somewhere to share, and my hands are too fucked up to write physically in a book, and that would just make it worse. i also know that i need to :post: or :upload: whatever i type because i feel the need to have an audience, to be seen and acknowledged. i know that there isn't anyone out there reading this, but typing it into a post that CAN be seen is different from typing into a doc where i am alone in a empty chamber.

ok, so... i'm hungry. i've been hungry since last night. i didn't eat though. tomorrow we are having pizza. i want to save up for that. maybe just two pieces with garlic dip. mm.

my tattoo is healing nicely. i'm 18. i walked into the shop off the street and asked for one a while back. it's still cloudy but it's been gradually clearing up. most people need 30 days to fully heal their tattoos; given my genetic disorders i wouldn't be suprised if it took double that time, or even triple. i like it, even though i keep getting caught off guard and thinking it's a bug on my arm. i guess that happens when you're so disconnected from your own body all of the time. i forget what i look like, i forget i have a tattoo now, etc etc.

i'm making a new friend at work, i think. their name is cecelia. they're very pretty, like their name - they remind me of a deer with their big brown eyes and gentle demure nature. i like joking around with them. i intrusively feel the need to let them know that i am not hitting on them - i'm incredibly aromantic. i'm socially inept though, and i'd like to have friends, but i don't know how to behave, so i sort of fumble over my lines and shuffle around in a costume that's three sizes too big for me. it's like i missed all of the dress rehersals and then boom, suddenly i'm in a play and everyone knows how to act but i'm flying in with my head in my back pocket.

anyways, cecelia invited me to hang out. and they talk to me about all kinds of personal stuff, like mental health issues. and like i said, we joke around. so i feel like we could be really close, if i don't make this weird somehow. i made them a pair of earrings - during our first week (we got hired on the same day) they complimented my green earrings. i make my own earrings out of little trinkets i find and collect, and one of the kitchsy little things i made was a pair of green clothespin earrings. they said they really liked them, asked me where i got them. so i made them a pair. yellow, which is their favourite color. i'll give it to them next time i see them. i plan on putting a little disinfectant wipe - the ones i use for my shots- in there for them to clean the earrings. covid times, and all that. i hope they like them. i hope it's not weird.

um, i tried to make this blog as ... bland as i could. i don't want to project an identity here. i was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder in 2016 and it makes life really hard. when i made this blog, it had yuri's art as the profile picture, and then that made it feel like HER blog instead of the collective MY blog. we are me. anyways. it's really hard. my identity is never the same. i mean, to some extent, it is; i have distingushed parts... but there's no solid me. i have many interests. i seem like someone who can't make up their mind on who they are. but the truth is, i just am... i'm just many people, and they all have their own interests and qualities and ways of thinking, and it makes interacting with me really really hard. it makes living as me really really hard.

i wish i was normal. i think about that a lot actually. maybe too much, lately. i promised when i started this blog that i wouldn't censor myself. my therapist - ex therapist, rather - said i spend too much time choosing what to omit when i speak to people. she used to say that she could see me picking through my thoughts, choosing which ones to share and how best to word them. i focus more on being presentable than what i have to present. so i needed a place to just spit out everything, uncensored, undevoured. the roast chicken, meat stripped off of it's bones and laid out for the guests - they are starving, there is nothing there.

so here's the first uncensored thought: i wish i was a woman. specifically, i wish i was an endosex cisgender woman. it's distasteful, but i find myself watching pornography and wishing for their soft and supple forms - silky skin, round, curvy bodies. beautiful lips, long hair, delicate hands. i've always been fascinated by drawing the naked form - i suppose there's just an alluring siren's call that i feel in my bones when i see the warmth of a lovely lady radiate from her very being. you see, i was born outside of the boxes. a messy smear. they made a choice when i popped out, raised me girl, gave me estrogen when my body wasn't doing what it was being asked to do. i grew girl, lived girl, tried girl. i tried so hard. you have no idea. i wanted it so badly. swirly skirts and long golden hair and painted lips. - now, i don't believe that these things are gendered. i believe that humans of any shape, size, form or spirit can do whatever they please in the means of self expression. but for me, there was always some underlying PRESSURE of NOT BEING GIRL ENOUGH. i was wanted girl. i had a broad chest, and large hands. i was hairy. i had a deep voice. my feet did not fit into girl's shoes. bits of me stuck out in women's clothing where women have no bits TO stick out. it hurt. it still does. i understand that i have some deeply rooted intersexism that leads me to apply the gender norms to myself, but i promise i don't think that way of other people. which leads me to... why them, but not me? why can other people be fat, hairy, wear makeup or no makeup, wear short skirts or cover every inch of their body - why do i praise and support gender nonconformity, women with beards and facial hair, men with long hair and makeup, shaving or no shaving, dyed pubic hair and jewelry - but when it comes to me, it's not okay? i rejoice in the trans community, femmes with voices as dark as tinted glass, or midnight, or the cat's rumbling purr. masculine entities with curves, and high voices, and typically "feminine" traits, because fuck that, traits are traits, and we can mix and match, and there is no restraint here because we are all living, breathing animals with vibrant souls and a taste for love and laughter. i accept everything. but i'm a hypocrite. my shoulders are too big for dresses. my skin is too hairy. my voice is too low for a woman, too high for a man. clothes do not fit me - men's pants cannot cling to my hips, women's tops cannot fit over my shoulders. i wear bags, or blankets, or nothing at all, hiding away in my room. i don't want to be seen. i don't want to know of the world and it's specifics around what shape my body isn't. my hands are big and clumsy. my chest didn't grow, and then when it did, it was incredibly lopsided. my bones don't even fit me, not sure what sex they belong to, pressing at the seams or curling grotesquely to fit inside my body. the only time i see others like me on tv... we are freaks. we are shemales, or wonders of nature, or abominations. we are hermaphodites, fucked up humans who grew the wrong parts or not enough of the right ones. we are misgendered, or prodded at on fictional doctor dramas and made spectacles, fucked up malformities to be gawked at. they want to guess what is in your pants, how you were raised - did they choose to mulitate you to make you more one way or the other? they want to know what's inside you, what is inside you, what's inside you? testes? ovaries? both? nothing? take it out, or put it in, fill you with hormones to make you normal, we joke about celebrities on the news - are they a hermaphodite? you have a girly face mr bieber, are you a hermaphodite? were you born with a penis, lady gaga? we are fetishized, but disgusting. horrific, and captivating, because people love the boygirl with their androgyny. i hate it. i want to rip my body to pieces. i want to sink my nails into flesh and bone and tear away. i want to throw my organs as far as i can, you failed me, you failed me, you failed me. i want to rip away until i am nothing but a floating concience. i hate it here. i always have.

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rottenappleheart · 6 years

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mm liveblog part 2

majora’s mask, unfiltered notes for the entire first 3-day cycle until you get the ocarina back and are no longer a slave to the passage of time

DAWN OF

THE FIRST DAY

72 HOURS REMAIN

tatl's thesis - that we should ask the great fairy for help, because the skull kid is no match for the great fairy - is deeply flawed. i have met great fairies. do you know what they don't do? help much.

that said i now like the idea of the skull kid being periodically taken to task by various great fairies

"sit down and tell me what you did this time"

"i made you a sandwich"

"are you sorry"

i know it's meant to be irritating but i love that the guards will stop both deku link and normal link (until they see he's armed, and also looks like he hasn't slept in seven years) from exiting. becasue they are doing their job and keeping the population safe. and that means not letting children wander around alone.

I LOVE CLOCK TOWN OKAY

I TALK TO EVERYONE ABOUT THEIR LIVES AND I READ ALL THE POSTERS FOR THE LOCAL BANDS AND THE GUARD RECRUITMENTS AND I WATCH THAT ODD MASKED PERSON PICK UP THEIR MAIL AND I TRY TO BEFRIEND THE LOCAL STRAY DOGS AND IT IS JUST SO GOOD

the grown deku scrub who promised his wife a moon's tear, i just have to ask: is that a thing that normally happens? does the moon always just... cry onto the surface of the planet? what???

i love their banners and streamers and their happy music and their busy bustling lives and it's so good

what the fuck kind of ink does the banker use that remains indelible even as time itself unwinds

yikes i want to stop and just look at everything but the first sunset is already closing in and i haven't done anything

I FORGOT HOW NERVE-WRACKING THIS GAME IS BEFORE YOU CAN SLOW TIME DOWN

i... just found a lottery shop in clock town. i literally never knew this was here. how have i missed it all these years.

NIGHT OF

THE FIRST DAY

60 HOURS REMAIN

how is time passing so fast aaaaaaa

clocktown is such a nice place, they have a whole section of town set aside for a public park with a playground and gardens and everything ;___;

okay so the great fairies though

remember what i was saying about how this game is actually very heavily voiced for being an ostensibly unvoiced game? everyone sighs, grunts, yells, hmms? and so on. and sometimes you'll catch almost a word.

except for the great fairy, it just sounds like she's squeaking "PLEASE ME" which is. an uncomfortable request. at the best of times.

but especially when i am in the form of a young potted plant.

idk what that was supposed to sound like but the midi-ified file is NOT GREAT, nintendo.

members-only late night milk bar... aw yeah please spike my milkshake, that is a great idea and i love it

(i'm not joking i love spiked milkshakes)

(also i love the milk bar and all the scenes that take place in there, especially on the last night, when you can just have very quiet calm conversations with people doing their best to be calm in the face of their unavoidable deaths)

DAWN OF

THE SECOND DAY

48 HOURS REMAIN

oh no oh no oh no WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE DOING IN THE FIRST GO-ROUND

oh right i have literally two tasks

phew

i forgot to go into the stock pot inn on the first day, and i missed seeing kafei at the mailbox, so i am THIRSTY for EVERYONE'S FAVORITE CANONICAL FIANCEES

seriously, another weird but lovely choice on the part of the developers when they were ganking oot character models for this game. "who's a potential spooky villain? how about that one merchant guy? sure! and for an attractive bride-type character, what are our options? hmmm... how about the cuccoo lady with all the allergies? it's perfect"

i love not just anju and kafei but everything involved in their storyline - how kafei's friendship with the curiosity shop manager saved him, how anju's best friend is cremia on the ranch and they talk about their lives and how cremia will save her life (if she can), how you can spend actual in-game hours just sitting with anju's ancient senile grandmother hearing her stories as she thinks she is telling them to her long-dead son, how anju's mom will quietly not like kafei and kafei's mom will love and worry about him on a serious level very unlike her public persona... it's all so very real and human and i love it so

also heck the whole cast of characters staying in the inn

AH THERE SHE IS

THE BRIDE

anju i'm going to fix this ;___;

hello guardsmen if you are concerned about the state of today's youth maybe you should talk to THE BOMBER GANG i'm just saying

people who have played the more recent loz games, is the trend of "horrible underaged gangs of roving thugs" still a thing? or are mm and ww the only two games where they inflicted that on the player?

NIGHT OF

THE SECOND DAY

36 HOURS REMAIN

i'm sweating, i am just trying to find the bomber gang so i can get into the observatory so i can get the moon's tear so i can get the flower launch pad so i can get to the top of the clock tower and not die in a fiery inferno as gravitational forces rip the world apart

is that so much to ask

THERE'S THE LITTLE RUGRAT

COME HERE SO I CAN PUMMEL YOU

i refuse to feel bad about spin-kicking this child in the face because 1) i am technically also a child, in any body they put me in and 2) they are super racist if you talk to them while you are still a deku scrub! VERY RUDE

heck they let fergus over there man the door and he is still in diapers

gonna fill their hideout with encouraging tracts and stuff helping them grow into better people

so, fun fact

i remember many things about this game

but not that there is a skulltula in the waterway leading to the observatory

that was an unpleasant surprise

you probably could have heard me yell from three states away

(also, nothing has attacked you yet in the game (that actually does damage, and is not part of the story) so it's a little wake-up call: hey, don't forget to use Tatl to scout ahead, don't forget that you have a shield

also just

don't

be a moron

anyway

i was about to ask who the dickens put balloons with majora's mask on them all over the place - it's a weird choice, since no one... knows... what's going on? but technically, so far, all of the balloons are being interacted with by the bombers, or in places where the bombers go, and skull kid was, however briefly, a member of the bombers' secret society for justice (AND ALSO RACISM) so actually it makes more sense than i expected

when you first walk into the basement of the observatory and... the music changes... and there's a chicken??? it is what i assume being high is like.

DAWN OF

THE FINAL DAY

24 HOURS REMAIN

plays just as i lunge for the moon's tear

okay i've got this, i can stop fretting, the while last day can just be me looking around at stuff and being sad because i can't help anybody

yet

DON'T WORRY PEOPLE I WILL SAVE YOU

EVENTUALLY

IN A DIFFERENT LIFE

YOU'RE DEFINITELY BONED IN THIS ONE

SORRY ABOUT THAT

BUT I'M A STUMP THAT CHEWS BUBBLE GUM RIGHT NOW AND I DON'T THINK YOU CAN ASK VERY MUCH OF ME

I CAN'T EVEN REACH THE DOORKNOBS OF THIS TOWN SO TBH I WASN'T GOING TO BE MUCH GOOD AGAINST AN INTERSTELLAR BODY CRASHING INTO THE PLANET

a more srs thought: it was an interesting choice of curse skull kid lays on link at the start, making him into a deku scrub, and i think we can unpack some stuff there: he's drawing on his woodland roots (which link shares), he's making link into something small and largely helpless (like skull kid is, without the mask), he's... actually giving link a very similar kind of body to his own?

i don't know what the exact taxonomical differentiation is between deku scrubs and skull kids, but they are both wooden-bodied, whether grown or carved, they both have radiantly glowing eyes unlike most other things in the world, they both clothe themselves in bright layers of leaves... i imagine that if you sandblasted all the drama off a skull kid, you'd find something pretty similar to the lankier deku scrubs.

in that case, what he did is... he really kinda turned link into himself. but his helpless, powerless, abandoned, friendless, pre-mask self. to taunt him with all those awful feelings that skull kid himself experienced.

(mythological distinction for skull kids: they are people who got lost in the woods, and became cursed. if i'm not mistaken.)

(link is literally becoming a skull kid.)

(good times y'all!)

oh gosh the music is so frantic on the third day, and it's such a good bit of development on the design team's side: every day, clock town's music gets a little faster, a little shriller, as their time runs out

if you talk to the guards who block you in on the third day, instead of their usual "hey kiddo it's dangerous outside" they'll start saying "hey, are you alone, where is your family, are you okay, someone is probably worrying about you, please find them and get out of town as soon as you can"

fun fact: one of the things that consistently Wrecks me about this game is how the guards stand at their posts, jaws clenched, holding their fists to their hearts, as they watch their world be destroyed... because they will not abandon their duty.

seriously, every time i die.

and the cow figurines all over town that, if you hadn't noticed before, have bobbleheads, because as the earth starts shaking they do too, and it's another tiny detail that makes it all The Worst.

awkward council meeting eavesdropped on

("nothing is wrong!" is a lot less believable when the ground is literally shaking from the gravitational stresses being exerted by the falling moon, but hey, 2018)

the carpenters shouting back and forth "hey dudes i'm sorry but i'm gonna jet" "are you kidding if i stay i get a promotion"

;_______;

SO MANY RACISTS IN CLOCK TOWN, the merchant's hipster assistant will literally refuse to talk to you if you're "just" a deku scrub

meanwhile the bomb shop guy's grandmother (the one who gets robbed, if you're not paying attention, like i wasn't) is just "oh goodness you are a very small customer, please be careful in our shop of very dangerous things"

NIGHT OF

THE FINAL DAY

12 HOURS REMAIN

eeeeeeeeeeep

finally got into the milk bar (everyone's a member when the world is ending!) and madame aroma, the scary and powerful socialite, starts with a very gentle "are you okay with not fleeing? it looks like we are all going to die here in town. is anyone looking for you?"

if i had all my masks and instruments i would love to invoke that scene right now and be the band on the titanic and give her and the other customers a few minutes of... life, if not joy, and beauty, if not quite comfort.

snuck into the now-abandoned stock pot inn, as well, and... okay, i'm going to say it, i don't know wtf is going on with anju's wedding dress. is her midriff made out of ivy? why is her romantic wedding-day mask (which is a neat concept btw!) a grinning rictus? what are we saying about love in this moment???)

(also, if you have ever made the mistake of helping kafei but forgetting to tell anju to wait for him, or telling anju to wait and then not helping kafei deal with sakon... it's a shitshow, it's bad for you, it darkens your heart forever)

during the last 12 hours the guards will say "i want to help you get out of her asap, run find your folks and i will let you out, please hurry"

nooooooo ;_______;

the postman sobbing because "flee for your life" is not written on the schedule

he wrote himself a letter saying that he is doing a good job and he requests that he himself flee ;__________________; but he can't do it ;__________________________;

oh no here we go

here it comes

the clocktower

the fireworks

the moon

the six hours remaining music

HEART CLUTCH

soft wailing

ngl that sad and weary music is the best part of the entire narrative experience to me

and then skull kid's impotent fury against all that immense power

tatl to skull kid: "what if we... didn't???"

also a good and valid point: friends don't hit friends

JUST LOOK ABOVE YOU

IF IT'S SOMETHING THAT CAN BE STOPPED

JUST TRY AND STOP IT

(his voice is still so horribly thin and shrill, like a child)

but one well-placed gum bubble to the face and we are BACK IN BUSINESS

the BUSINESS

of RUNNING FOR OUR LIVES

from THINGS WE CANNOT FIGHT

i like that the one time zelda appears in the game, it is such a gentle and tender scene, reminding you of the bond she MUST have had with Link, for him to have done so much, and how much trust he puts in her

(... ask me again about the Song of Endings)

("even though it was only a short time, i feel like i've known you forever")

("i believe in my heart that a day will come when i shall meet you again")

(--> all my worst most wretched tp emotions about the wolf and the shrouded lady in the tower)

the song that reminds her of herself and link is the song of time, not anything else... the song about cycles and memory and history and second chances and legends

;_________________;

WELL FUCK I GUESS I'M HAVING PRINCESS ZELDA FEELS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GAME IN WHICH SHE DOES NOT PLAY A ROLE

i have to play the songs in the right time, i can't just half-ass it by speeding through the buttons, idk why

("the goddess of time is watching over you" --> old old questions about who the goddess of time is, and which sage zelda was, etc)

the PLOT TWIST when you equip the ocarina and it turns into A GOSHDARN BRASS QUINTET STRAPPED TO YOUR BACK i love it

(each little snail yeah knows how to wail yeah)

tatl saying [as midna will, centuries later]: um dude i mean sir WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU, HAVE I MISJUDGED, SUDDENLY I AM WORRIED ABOUT MY MANNERS

and we are... not victorious, but reprieved!!!

i'll do better this time everyone i promise

DAWN OF

THE FIRST DAY

AGAIN...!!!

#yelling about mm #i am very glad i did this tonight #deeply misjudged how long it would take me and how stressful it would be #since you can't save at all during that first cycle #but now i can tool around to my heart's content wasting time and lives so that i can admire the architecture of termina

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setaripendragon · 7 years

Text

Eviscerated

This was a request from @furisca, for the first time Hidan and Itachi noticed each other, and the first time they kissed. This is... kind of a prequel to Burnt Sugar and Blood, you might notice how it fits with the first scene of that, if you’ve read it, but you don’t need to read that to understand this, or vice versa. I should probably warn for Hidan’s sadomasochism, and Itachi’s depression. And... canon-typical levels of violence? At least I think it’s pretty canon-typical. But yeah, if fairly vivid descriptions of sadomasochism or depression upset you, this is not the fic for you. Please take care of yourselves.

The Akatsuki were not a very tight-knit group. Hidan was self-aware enough to know that was probably a good thing, because if he was forced to interact with the bunch of stupid heathens more often, he’d kill the lot of them and be done with it. The only reason Kakuzu had survived as his partner for so long was not for lack of trying on Hidan’s part.

Still, it meant that Hidan could go more than a year without seeing anyone of the group besides Kakuzu, Pein and Konan. He knew Kakuzu kept up-to-date on the comings and goings of the top S-rank missing nin, but Hidan really couldn’t be bothered with that shit. He didn’t give a damn who he was working with, so long as he got to kill heathens and spread the word of god. Kakuzu could take his stupid fucking bounties and shove them up his ass.

Every now and then, though, Pein called them all back to Amegakure for update meetings, when big changes were happening or Pein wanted them to lie low for a while. The meeting room was large, but surprisingly comfortable, with ten chairs around an unnecessarily huge table. Hidan glanced around with disinterest. Pein and Konan were there, of course, and so was Akasuna and the Beast of Kiri. And the weird plant man was lurking in the corner, but that was it. Hidan had been sure they’d had more members than that… He squinted at the table and tried to remember.

“Who’s missing?” He asked, when his memory failed to give him more than a vague idea of dark hair and pale skin.

“Sorry I’m late.” A soft monotone announced from right behind him. Hidan turned, a little tempted to attack just on principle, and, yeah, dark hair and pale skin, and an expression so blank it was actually sickening.

“Right, the walking corpse.” Hidan remembered, his fingers twitching around the handle of his scythe. There was a muted screaming ringing in Hidan’s ears, and he wondered if he could put this heathen down before Pein or Konan stopped him.

The other man’s eyes focused on him, black bleeding into red, tomoe spinning to life lazily. “Excuse me?” He asked politely.

“Don’t threaten the other members, Hidan.” Pein interjected.

Hidan scoffed. “That wasn’t a fucking threat. You’d know if I was fucking threatening people because there’d be blood on your fancy fucking table. Just stating a fucking fact. There were two of the weird pale ones, and this one’s the heathen that’s dead inside. Where’s the other one?”

“He left. Two years ago.” The walking corpse informed him, still so soft-spoken and polite. It was making Hidan’s skin itch.

“Don’t you pay attention to anything? Useless idiot.” Kakuzu complained. “He tried to steal Uchiha’s body for his soul-transfer jutsu.” He reminded Hidan, jerking a thumb at the walking corpse. “When that didn’t work out, he left.”

“Knew he was a fucking heathen coward.” Hidan griped.

“You say he left, like he just wandered off in a disappointed huff.” The Beast of Kiri interjected, with the beginnings of an unkind grin on his face. “Like Itachi didn’t send him running with his tail between his legs and missing half an arm.”

“Didn’t stop him from going after the next best thing, did it?” Akasuna interjected grumpily.

The hair on the nape of Hidan’s neck stood on end. Every animal instinct in him was suddenly screaming that there was something very dangerous far too close. The adrenaline-fuelled lust tap-danced down his spine and settled low in his gut as he turned.

Outwardly, the Uchiha – Itachi, Hidan’s memory supplies dizzily – appeared no different. Perhaps a little more tense, but he’d barely even blinked. The only difference was in his eyes, and in the killing intent whipping around him like a storm. Just for a moment, he looked… furious, anguished, agonised, desperate, despairing, wrathful, broken.

And then it was gone. The walking corpse was back, and no one else seemed to have even noticed that moment of… breathtaking beauty. Blind heathen idiots. “Please do not speak of matters that don’t concern you.” The walking corpse requested.

“Fine.” Sasori grumbled. “Can we get on with this?”

“What next best thing?” Hidan asked, ignoring the bastard, and keeping his eyes fixed on the walking corpse, searching for some hint of life in those red red eyes. Red eyes… “Wait, didn’t that coward have a weird obsession with that one clan with the red eyes?” He wondered.

Oh, there it was. Hidan’s breath caught as the sheer agony was suddenly beating off the man in waves. His expression tightened, his eyes blazed, and Hidan… Hidan had never wanted someone so much in his life.

There was very little in the world that Itachi could genuinely say he cared about. He had principles, certainly, but it had been a long time since that had been anything more than a vague concept, and even longer since he’d been able to follow them. There were things he enjoyed, like fresh dango, and Kisame’s company, and clear nights, but it wasn’t as though his life would be significantly worse if they were gone, which made it hard to care about their being there in the first place.

He cared about Sasuke. He cared about his penance.

He had his mission, and whatever else he was, he was a shinobi, and a shinobi always completed their mission. Make Sasuke strong, and see Madara dead. There wasn’t any point to getting invested in anything else. His mission required him to work with Akatsuki until he could uncover more about their shadowy leader, so that was what he did, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter.

It had been so long since he’d felt strongly about anything other than Sasuke that he didn’t think he could anymore. It was almost a relief.

“Pein wants us to rendezvous with the Zombie Duo at the next village.” Kisame informed him, as he shook himself out of the meditative trance that enabled their projection-like communication. Itachi packed away his own maudlin musings, and rose to his feet. “Something about collecting some information to bring back to Ame so that those two freaks can get on with their next mission.”

“Mm.” Itachi replied to confirm he’d heard and understood.

“Reduced to glorified messenger boys…” Kisame grumbled.

Itachi had nothing to say to that, so he didn’t. They reached the next village in good time, and followed the sounds of a commotion to the centre of the small collection of houses. Itachi was not in the least bit surprised to see Hidan and Kakuzu there. Kakuzu was hanging back, but Hidan had one of the villages by the collar, holding him aloft, and shouting something about heathens.

“Typical.” Kisame muttered, sounding almost amused.

Itachi activated his sharingan to watch with detached interest – it was always good to have intel on your enemies, after all – as Hidan pressed the edge of his scythe to the terrified village’s throat. Blood beaded up around the blade, and Hidan laughed.

Itachi wandered closer, stepping up beside Kakuzu, who glanced over and grunted a greeting. Itachi replied politely, because his mother had always insisted on manners, but his attention had been caught by the colour spreading over Hidan’s skin as he licked the man’s blood off his scythe. He’d heard, of course, about Hidan’s ability, but it was always good to get first-hand information when possible.

The villager swore, and then muttered a prayer, and Hidan laughed.

“You think your false god gives a damn about a sinner like you?!” Hidan cackled, tossing the man away casually. He tumbled into the dirt, while Hidan drew something under his feet in his own blood. “Heathens! Jashin-sama gave us this life to suffer in gratitude, not to cower away from his glory like worms! You think I’m going to let you hide from him?” Hidan crooned. And promptly drove his scythe into his own leg. The man on the ground howled as blood bloomed and spilled from a matching wound on his own leg. The other villagers screamed and some fled. “Ah! Doesn’t that feel so pure? Jashin-sama is with us now. Can you feel him? The pain drives away the cold, and you can feel his blessing in your every nerve.”

Itachi tilted his head. He’d heard about Hidan’s habit of evangelising to all and sundry, particularly when he was riding a pain high, but he’d never before been present for it, and it was… almost intriguing. There was something about the happy contradiction that Itachi wanted to pick at, like a crow with a fresh corpse. Hidan drew his scythe out with a wet squelch and swung it into the meat of his shoulder, drawing fresh wails from the man bleeding on the dirt in front of him.

“Suffering is the greatest gift, Jashin-sama’s blessing on our pathetic mortal lives, waking us from the endless sleep to bask in his brilliance. It’s the only truth, the only reality, the way our bodies bleed and our souls burn. Have you ever felt more alive?” He asked gleefully, and drove his scythe right through his sternum and into his own heart with a scream that was, frankly, indecent. He then collapsed onto the ground, staying sort of upright only because the handle of his scythe got lodged in the dirt and propped him up. His victim convulsed once or twice, and then lay still.

Itachi stepped forwards, ignoring Kakuzu’s muttered warning. It was strangely hard to breathe in that moment, like there was an invisible hook under his ribs, embedded in his lungs, dragging him closer to the unmoving body in the centre of that strange sigil.

And then his sharingan eyes caught the jump-flutter of a pulse in the bared neck, and the impaled chest heaved, shuddering in the aftermath of death. Itachi watched Hidan’s eyes flutter open halfway, a lazy smile curling his lips. There was something crawling under Itachi’s skin, something that was desperate to get out, but he was frightened that if he let it, it would abandon him, leave him hollow and bereft.

Hidan’s eyes finally focused on Itachi, and he gasped, then groaned, letting his head loll back as his eyes were suddenly all Itachi could look at. “You want a turn, Uchiha?” He asked.

Something deep in Itachi’s core screamed yes.

“Get the fuck up, Hidan, we don’t have time for your histrionics.” Kakuzu interjected, marching over and aiming a kick at Hidan’s ribs. Hidan let the blow connected, and it jostled the scythe still buried in his ribcage. Fresh blood oozed from the wound. Itachi had long been inured to the sight of blood, but there was something about this that… shook him. He tried to pull himself together, unsettled by how… affected he had been by something so… inconsequential.

“Fuck you, Kakuzu.” Hidan drawled, too lazy to put much effort into it. He tugged his scythe loose, and rolled to his feet, stumbling only a little. “Fuck, I feel good.” Hidan said to himself.

“He wasn’t even worth anything.” Kakuzu complained, kicking the actually dead corpse in the road. “If you’re going to waste time with your stupid ritual, you could at least make it worth our while.” He spat on the corpse, then turned, ignoring Hidan’s growled threats, to hold a scroll out to Itachi. “Here’s the information, Uchiha. Sorry about the spectacle.”

Itachi took the scroll, and nodded. It was all he could manage at the moment. If he opened his mouth, he was afraid of what might come out. Kakuzu looked as though he was about to say something, but he was distracted by Hidan attacking him, demanding he pay attention when Hidan lectured him about the sanctity of pain and suffering. A large, cool hand landed on his shoulder, and he allowed it, because Kisame was inoffensive, as false allies went. “Hey, everything alright?” Kisame asked, more wary than concerned, like he thought Itachi might, oh, snap, and kill everybody.

“Fine.” Itachi murmured, unable to take his eyes off Hidan as the man screamed profanities at Kakuzu and attempted to take the man’s head off. “We have our mission. That’s all that matters.”

Apparently, the first phase of their mission was complete. Hidan didn’t really know or care what that meant, he only cared that until phase two started, most of the Akatsuki had been told to lie low. A couple of days of lying low was no problem. Hidan could pretend he was just waiting for the next sacrifice. He’d gone weeks between rituals before, after all, but as a week ticked by, and he was still seeing the same rooms and corridors of the same stupid hide out, he began to get… twitchy.

He baited Kakuzu into a fight, but after a while, the man stopped letting him taunt him. He tried to go out to find somebody to kill, but Konan was a damn psychic, and Hidan had too much respect for the quiet aura of pain that shadowed her to think he needed to teach her the meaning of suffering. So he let her force him back inside with only a lot of grumbling.

He retreated to the training rooms, because there, at least, no one would yell – too much – if he got blood everywhere while praying. Except… the training room was occupied. He stopped in the doorway, watching as Uchiha Itachi played with sharp pointy objects. Kunai and shuriken and senbon flew through the air in a deadly hail, and every single one hit the bullseye of one of the multitude of targets set up around the room.

Most ninja would probably be distracted by that display of skill, but Hidan wasn’t most ninja. He was a Jashinist, and he couldn’t help but stare at the open and bitter misery etched into the lines of Itachi’s face as he moved. It looked so at home there, in the set of his brows and lines on his face and the deep wells of his eyes that Hidan was completely captivated.

Itachi stopped moving, and the last handful of shuriken found their marks in the vitals of a training dummy, neatly embedded in eye, neck and groin. Hidan didn’t spare them a glance. Just watched the heavy rise and fall of Itachi’s chest with covetous desire. “See, you look like that, and I start thinking you’re less of a fucking corpse than you seem most days.” He remarked.

Itachi turned, sharp, eyes wild and vicious. Hidan grinned in the face of it, blood thrumming with the anticipation. “Excuse me?” Itachi asked, but it sounded less polite than he usually managed.

“Fixing for a fight, Uchiha?” Hidan asked, half taunting, half hopeful as he prowled closer. “Want to bleed, or make someone else bleed?” He wondered.

Itachi frowned, something almost alarmed flickering through his eyes, and no. No, Hidan wasn’t having that. Fear had no place in those eyes. Such a sin did not belong on a face that could show so such suffering. “What, not enough nerve to face me, Uchiha?” He snarled, vicious now. “Not enough nerve to face yourself?”

It had the desired effect, but in a way Hidan honestly hadn’t expected. He’d expected anger, violence, but what he got was a shattering. Something broke behind those blood-red eyes. Something dark and twisted spilled out to replace that repulsive fear, and Hidan trembled at the sight of it. He could see his god reflected in those eyes, and there was just no possible way for him to keep his hands to himself for even a moment longer.

He closed the distance in a heartbeat, and he was actually surprised when he managed to get a hand in that dark hair. Pain exploded through him, enough to make his hand spasm in Itachi’s hair and to stick his breath to the back of his throat, but not enough to make him stop. He closed the distance, teeth biting at pale, soft lips in time with the throbbing agony beating along with his heartbeat. Under his mouth, Itachi gasped a hitching, fragile breath, lips parting tantalisingly.

Dizziness swept over Hidan, and he lost his grip on Itachi’s hair. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees as he finally realised that there was a great gaping hole in his gut, and a bloody kunai in Itachi’s hand. Blood gushed over his lap and the floor, which explained the sudden light-headedness. He grinned up at the stunned expression on Itachi’s face. “Nng, should’ve known you’d want to get straight to the fun part.” Hidan groaned happily. “You gonna come down here and finish the job, or are you waiting for me to heal so I can fuck you up right back?” He snarled.

Itachi breathed in, slow and shaky. Carefully, he knelt, and ran light fingers over the edge of the wound he’d put in Hidan’s gut. White-hot agony trailed in his wake, and Hidan moaned, writhing under his touch. “Don’t be a pansy-ass. Use your fucking- nails or some shit.”

Molten heat spilled over Itachi’s face, and Hidan could only stare, enraptured. “I think…” Itachi began slowly, obeying Hidan’s suggestion to the letter. “I would like it very much if you could teach me to hurt the way you hurt, Hidan.” He decided.

Hidan grinned, bloody and breathless. “My fucking pleasure.”

#Naruto #Hidan #Uchiha Itachi #Hidachi #Hidan/Itachi #TW: depression #TW: sadism #TW: masochism #this came out a lot less dark than I was expecting #first kiss

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